Vesper

[Leo]

Vesper
The Backstory for Zylar Vespertine

"What did I tell you about going off half-cocked?" a voice echoed distantly. "You're always balancing precariously on the edge. One bad situation to the next. One of these days, you're not gonna come out on the other side unscathed."

---

Screaming, he awoke with a start. The sound of rain against his apartment window jolting him awake for the umpteen-millionth time. For a moment, he was back in the Military. The distant sound of decompression alarms still echoing in his mind. He could still see the Gallic ship ahead of him, his weapons straining in a vain attempt to disable the vessel.

Zylar shook his head, trying to clear the memories that refused to fade into obscurity. They were too deeply engrained in his psyche; in his soul. Those days were gone, however...and she'd still died screaming. Tears welled up in his vision as those damned memories came back again and again. For years they persisted, like a record stuck skipping over and over again. The psychologists insisted that it would pass in time, that he'd once again be a functioning member of society again.

"Quacks." he said aloud to no one in particular. After all, he was alone in his small studio apartment. The only sound echoing off it's walls was the pitter-patter of rain drops. "Best thing I did was leave that life behind. Them and the Military both."

He'd chanced upon the apartment by sheer luck. After going AWOL from the Bretonian Special Forces, he'd needed a place to lay low and found the small studio after landing on Stuttgart. It was his oasis; an isle of calm in the turmoil of his damaged mind and cursed memories.

"Ugh." he said rubbing his eyes. "Coffee."

Zylar wasn't a small man by any means. He stood just under 2 meters tall and weighed around 120 kilos with most of that being muscle. He went to the gym everyday after his gig working at the local bar. It was the only other place he felt he could work out his problems without breaking the nearest annoyance...if they be an object or person.

He swung his legs down over the edge of his bed and stood, the bed groaning in gratitude for the weight being lifted off it's frame. He shuffled slowly over to the kitchen and rummaged around looking for coffee.

"Damn. Out of Coffee again. Hope the bar has some in stock I can buy off Reggie."

Reggie was the bar's owner. A gangly old man who at some point had worked for the less than..."reputable" factions on Stuttgart. Reggie never offered any information and Zylar never pried, but you could tell by some of the patrons who passed through the bar that he was at the very least a very reputable smuggler back in his younger years. Hell, sometimes the bar got liquor that even bars on Manhattan couldn't get in stock easily leading Zylar to believe that it was smuggled in at one of the ports.

He took a shower and got dressed, leaving his apartment and headed towards the bar. It was his day off, but he figured Reggie wouldn't mind selling him a box of Coffee for his apartment if he asked nicely enough. Zylar had applied for the bouncers position at the bar initially but Reggie needed a bartender and that's the position he'd got. Not that he complained. After all, he still functioned as an imposing force to those drunkards that wanted to start any s*** in the bar. Many times he'd thrown out would be tough guys face first out the front door.

Zylar shuffled through the rain, keeping his head down to avoid getting the rain in his eyes. Within a few moments, he'd arrived at the bar and opened the door.

"What'd I tell you, old man?" a voice said, gruff and disdainful. "You don't get to dictate our contract. You agreed to pay us for our haul and you're gonna do just that."

"Screw you, Milo." Reggie replied. "I've been through this whole dog and pony show before ya know. I was in your place--"

"Yeah yeah, I've heard the 'stories' of your valiant escapades when you were younger but you're just an old feeble man now." he said shoving Reggie to the floor. "...and I can take what we're owed if need be."

At this, Zylar cleared his throat. Milo looked to the door and grinned. The three men around him turned to face Zylar, sizing him up.

"Well, if it ain't the giant. Come to protect your grandad?"

"Naw." Zylar said cracking his neck once and narrowing his eyes. "Just here to take out the trash."

---

You fear oblivion. Yet you forget. The universe remembers every atom of your being. Even dust hums your name in the dark.

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Starlight Research Consortium | The Banished Legion | Astral
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