[color=#6b71db]"Woah, oh gosh... is it really time to talk about our life stories already?"
"...Looks that way."
Kris would clasp his hands together - a boney human hand and a skeletal prosthetic intertwining fingers in ponderment. Amsel would stare down at the congregation with her lifeless eyes, with a faint pale glow behind her irises, remaining in a silent stance as the conversation proceeded.
"Well... what's there to say. Former Technocrat, getting-in-trouble extraordinaire, dumb as a bag of bricks and... Sunbucks enthusiast. What's there not to like?" Kris smiled with lips stiffened into a smile.
"There's not much about me either, I'm afraid. My line of models uses a synthetic facsimile of the primary cerebral focal points from a volunteer in Kishiro's R&D - don't ask me who, or what she is. I know this purely from hearsay."
She would tap her head - as artificial as she was, parts of her weren't.
"Shortly after I was manufactured and the Nomad Wars fizzled out, there were no more investors in our project, but due to a legal oversight, I avoided the termination protocols beyond the end-of-life updates and supports Kishiro imposed in my programming. But... I pulled through nonetheless. I learned more about Kusari as I tried to live among the common folk, trying to... eke out a living as a tailor, then as a bricklayer, I remember tending to a bar as a waitress for a time, too, all whilst concealing my identity."
Kris would keep quiet, nodding as she would explain her past in detail, as if he had heard the same story a hundred times before.
"It wasn't easy by any means. When it rains too often and I'm in a nasty and humid environment for months, rust will eventually start to grow on my frame like a goddamned rot. I learned fairly quickly that I had to put my innate talents to use before I would rust away in my own bedroom, unable to move and trapped in my own body."
"I ended up joined Samura, of all things. Hired bodyguard duty. They assumed I was some disposable Kusarian ex-military woman to use as a meatshield from a stray bullet or laser bolt. Unfortunately, I'm not made of meat."
"I was with one of their executives for a month or two. Covering him at every turn, walking alongside him, and mindlessly agreeing with all of his remarks. I didn't care, I was just in it for the coin. Until that day. A young man waded his way through the crowd to land a shot on Kaji-san. I stood before him, and absorbed the hit and quickly retaliated. Straight in his eye..."
Her stance mirrored that of Kris. But her hands began to tremble. Her lips stiffened.
"What I had done to that boy was nothing short of barbaric. But that was what I had been built for. I had to stay stalwart in the face of such... feelings. But doing something like that to a child? A street urchin with a pistol? I began to truly doubt myself."
"I continued to take more jobs, making sure I could deliver a swift end to nasty individuals - rabble raisers, anarchists, riff-raff that would only cause trouble. My way here has been paved with blood and coin, all for the sakes of resisting the passage of time by hiring techniciants to repair bits and pieces of myself. But... to what end, I wondered?"
The white glow in her eyes dissipated.
"It went on for what felt like forever. Like an endlessly repeating equation. Like a periodic number. I began to ponder if my entire purpose to exist and be sentient was to destroy lives. I started to lose touch with reality, and I even lost one of my legs behind, rendering me incapable of any kind of toil... until this boy found me, battered and broken. By tripping over me, of all things."
Tia had been listening intently, absorbed in the stories being told around the table. For a rare moment, she had let herself slip into the rhythm of the conversation, the back-and-forth of shared experiences. It wasn’t often she found herself in such company, and for a brief stretch of time, she had almost forgotten about the ghosts of her past.
Then reality hit her like a sudden decompression warning, her eyes widening slightly as she realized it was her turn.
“Oh, it’s my turn?” She blinked before exhaling, leaning back into her chair, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her glass. "Well..."
She took a measured sip of her drink, letting the burn settle before she began.
“I was born on Freeport 7, about ten years before it was destroyed.” Her voice was steady, but there was something distant in the way she said it, like recalling the memory from a data drive rather than from her own life. “Back then, life was simple. My parents were traders, moving cargo from one side of Sirius to the other. One of those routine journeys to Kusari ended in disaster. We were en route when our ship was intercepted by independent pirates. They weren’t even affiliated with the big-name groups—just desperate scum looking for an easy target."
Her hand curled into a loose fist against the table, the only outward sign of the weight those words carried.
“My parents stuffed me into an escape pod before the ship was torn apart.” She let that statement hang in the air for a second before continuing. “I don’t remember much of the explosion, just the sudden force and the way my body felt weightless in all the wrong ways. I drifted in space for days. Time doesn’t make sense when you’re just a kid alone in a metal coffin, staring at the void, waiting for something—anything—to happen.”
Tia leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table as her tone shifted.
“A group of Golden Chrysanthemums found me and took me in. A child they could raise as one of their own. They made me into a weapon under Kusari tradition—trained me in ways that most would consider extreme, but to them, it was just their way of life.” Her fingers tapped against the wood of the table absently. “But I never truly felt like I belonged. No matter how much I learned, no matter how well I fought, something always felt... off. So I left. I set out to travel, searching for something I couldn’t quite put into words.”
Her eyes darkened slightly, the glass in front of her becoming the center of her focus as she continued.
“I ended up in the Omicrons again, only to be attacked by Nomads. It should’ve been the end of my story right there.” A pause. A slight smirk. “But fate had other plans. A certain captain saved me. At the time, he recognized my potential, saw something in me that even I didn’t fully understand. He took me under his wing, trained me, made me into something more than just another rogue drifting through space.”
The smirk faded as quickly as it had come.
“For years, I worked for him. I fought, I bled, I survived. Until one day, disaster struck. A catastrophe—caused by him—destroyed the ship we called home and killed most of the people I knew on it. I barely escaped. And that was when I knew... everything he had built was a lie.”
Tia leaned back again, crossing her arms, her expression unreadable.
“I returned to Kusari, started plotting my revenge. He was gone—for a while, at least. Then I heard whispers. He was trying to bring the group back together. I started digging, looking into his past, his betrayal, his plans. But before I could find the answers I needed, he disappeared again.”
Her fingers flexed, just for a moment.
“And then... his people came for me. Not just his, but mercenaries, bounty hunters, assassins. They hounded me across Sirius for two years. It was exhausting. Eventually, I took to Gallia, let the heat die down while I came up with a real plan—one that would make sure I eliminated everyone who had ever shaken hands with him. I started with the smaller targets first, taking my time, dismantling his connections piece by piece.”
Tia let out a slow breath, then continued, her voice steady.
“Liberty, Bretonia, Kusari, Rheinland, the Border Worlds, Coalition space, the Taus... and finally, the Omicrons. Over the past nine years, I’ve dedicated myself to destroying everything he built. I tore it all down, piece by piece, until now—now, I’m closer than I’ve ever been to killing the bastard myself.”
She lifted her gaze, meeting the eyes of the trio around her, gauging their reactions. She had long stopped expecting sympathy. Usually, when she told this story, people either saw her as a ruthless killer or a tragic fool chasing a ghost. But she didn’t care about their judgments. She was alive, and that meant there was still unfinished business.
“I just have to find him.”
The silence that followed was thick, like the heavy air of a ship just before a battle. Tia didn’t look away, waiting to see what they would say. Would they question her? Would they try to rationalize it? It didn’t matter. The past was written in blood, and she had no intention of stopping now.
Diana swayed her drink around for the entire duration of the trio's stories, only putting on an ever so slight smirk as Kris ended his tale right after he started it, much like her, but even shorter. Amsel's past was both intriguing to her, as much as it was difficult to understand, given how nobody had to ever teach her that taking a life of any kind was going to change ones self as a person. She was able to feel empathy for the feeling of abandonment, the need for something to change before reality catches up with you and ends you for good. "It seems good that Kris found you and gave you another constant in your ... life? Aside of rust and the inevitable realization that human emotions aren't always something to strife for. There's a lot of good ones that I genuinely wish I could share with you, but there's ... oh so much that nobody should ever be forced to feel."
Tia's story however reminded her of the duality of mankind, the billions of individuals that are merely one bad decision away from betraying those that they once held dear. In her mind there was fine line that Tia was currently wandering on, with either side representing the understandable thirst for revenge and the chance of being consumed by the nearly endless hunt for justice, only to be left with little meaning to her own life once this mission is accomplished.
She had to fight with the task to give Tia a proper response as this itch in her mind grew stronger, giving her ever more trouble to contain it. This however wasn't the only reason Diana took a fair bit to raise her voice again, as she remembered the insuppressable need for revenge when the Oracles' elders abandoned their kind and left them to fight for their life in a world that formed ever growing hatred towards the Nomads and those who weren't destined to fight them.
"Especially after our conversation, Tia, I'm not going to suggest to you what I would do, but please listen to me anyways. Nobody asks you to forgive them for what happened, but be careful about how much of your life you let them taint with their influence. They've ruined countless lives from what you've told us, and yours could be the next victim if you make your whole existance revolve about them. Perhaps you've heard this already, perhaps I'm treading the same ground others have abandoned long ago. Just let it be told to you by someone who can put herself in your shoes a good bit better than a lot of others." Diana finished her short monologue with a saddened tone to her voice, taking her eyes off the swaying liquid in her cup only when every word had been said. She looked at Tia, then back at the duo sitting on the opposite sight of the table. "Listen, it's been ... a decent ending to an absolutely shitfaced evening, but I'll go back to my ship. I know when I've got too much in my system to be good company." With a metallic clink she put down her glass on the table after downing what was left in it in one extended sip. She didn't seem to be in a good condition, even considering the way they barely made it to Livadia with their lives.
Diana stood up and turned to the side, before stepping up onto the metallic bench that she was just sitting on, aiming to slip behind Tia's back to leave the scene without making her stand up. She placed her left hand on the pouch before jumping down from the bench again, making sure that the pouch stayed attached, even if it was already tightly secured to her belt. One last time she would turn around to slightly wave her right hand in the trio's direction, finding it hard to just leave without a sign of goodwill. Just as fast as she had found herself in the bar barely an hour ago, she disappeared in a crowd of mechanics, crewmen and pilots, with her ginger hair being the last thing to fade out of view.
Tia barely had a chance to respond before the girl was gone, vanishing into the bustle of the Livadia Shipyard bar. Her frown deepened as she stared at the empty space the girl had occupied just moments before. The conversation had stirred something inside her—an unease she didn't care to name. She thought about her own path, the endless pursuit of vengeance that had come to define her existence. Would it ever bring her peace? Or would it simply drive her into the grave, leaving nothing behind but another forgotten name on some bounty hunter’s list?
A bitter smirk ghosted across her lips. It didn’t matter. She had to do it. Even if it killed her in the end.
Shaking off the creeping thoughts, she turned her attention back to the duo seated across from her. The boy, Kris, and his android companion, Amsel. They were an unusual pair, but Tia had seen enough of the universe to know that "unusual" was just another word for "interesting."
"You know," she said, her voice steady but laced with something just shy of exhaustion, "if you ever need any updates on your augmentations or upgrades, I have a friend who might be able to help you out." She leaned forward slightly, her fingers tapping against the rim of her empty glass. "His name is John Derius Guerra. He’s been roaming around Sirius for a while now, working on cybernetics and medical augmentations. He knows his stuff. If anyone can help improve or fine-tune what you’ve got, it’s him."
She paused for a second, studying their faces before adding, “I’ll give him a heads-up that you might reach out. No pressure, but if you need anything, it’s good to have options.”
Satisfied with that, Tia leaned back and signaled for the bartender again. This time, the man actually noticed her and made his way over, though he didn't look thrilled about it. Whether that was because of the general chaos of the bar or just her presence, she couldn’t say, and frankly, she didn’t care.
"Another round for me," she said, her tone firm but not unkind. She gestured toward Kris and Amsel with a tilt of her head. "And whatever these two are drinking."
As the bartender scribbled down the order, Tia reached across the table, gathering the cluster of empty glasses and pushing them toward him.
"Oh, and bring the check," she added, her voice carrying the weight of someone who was used to settling her own debts, no matter how large or small.
The bartender grunted in acknowledgment, scooping up the glasses before heading back toward the bar.
Tia exhaled and stretched slightly, rolling her shoulders before settling back into her chair. Her gaze flickered between the two across from her.
"So," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Since we're all still here, might as well make the most of it. Tell me—what’s your next move?"
She wasn't just making conversation. She was genuinely curious. If there was one thing she had learned from her years of wandering, it was that everyone had their own battles to fight, their own reasons for pushing forward. And in a galaxy like this, it was always worth knowing who else was walking the same road—even if their destination was different.
