A Dusty Old Rock

[Nick Stenn]

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Stenn's footsteps ring throughout the station, the once busy halls now heavy with the silence of the forgotten. Once home to a bustling crew, squadrons of pilots and the ever present robot guards, Hope's Watch was a far cry from its heyday. Glancing at one of the few remaining droids that they hadn't managed to sell off to keep the station liquid, Stenn barely noticed Sanada's tantrum as he stalks towards the meeting room, new member in tow. Aside from Reyna's Sabre, Regina's Falchion and Junko's Nyx, his is the only ship present, meaning that the rest of the Knights had either died or decided against answering the call. Well, most of them. He knew that Derek is still alive, and would hopefully arrive shortly, but so many others were missing.

Scowling at a layer of dust on the control panel to the assembly room, he was reminded yet again that the state of the Forlorn Hope was no ones fault but his own. The Knights had done an excellent job trying to fill the gap he had left before his unexpected absence, but in the end, there was only so much you could do with a bunch of mercenaries that relied on the personal ties of one man. Even less when that man went missing and all you had left was now empty promises he had made. He couldn't blame Sarah for retiring when she did, and he could only wonder if he would ever see Elena and Troy again.

The door stuck for a moment, a year of unuse freezing its motors as he keyed in an ancient password, before it reluctantly gave way to the group. Lights dimly flickered on, revealing what had once been the briefing room of all Forlorn operations, before they had disbanded. He smiled briefly at the sight of the case of XC-15's against the wall, the personal weapons of choice of all Forlorn pilots due to their mod-ability and resultant versatility.

"So many are missing." His words are heavy in the air, as he takes his seat at the head of the room, gesturing Reyna to one of the closer Knight chairs, and waving Sanada and Regina back towards their own seats. Both of the Captains chairs remain empty, and he can't help but feel old at the sight. The Forlorn had started in a similar manner to this once long ago. Three independent mercenaries who decided that it was always better to have someone watching your back. All the members had been equals then.

He hid a grimace at the thought. No one could point out the exact moment he had claimed sole command of the Forlorn, but back then, no one had realized the effect it would have. But that was in the past, and the Forlorn were gone. But maybe not for much longer. "I've heard about you Miss Hunt. I wonder if you would have liked us more back when red was our main color instead of blue. He gazes up at the ceiling, his mind beginning to wonder. "Sanada, should we wait to see if any of the others join us, or should we continue?"

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