"Why won't you two stop fighting!?"

"I hate you!"

"Leo."

"I just wanted a family!"

"It's all your fault!"

"Leooo."

"I can't take it anymore!"

"You're not my brother!"

.

.

.

"It's time to wake up, Leo."

Earth, The Past

The rising sun cast a rosy hue across the forest, rays of light beaming past the trees, along with blinding our eyes. Two silhouette figures trekked through the forest, soil parting away beneath their boots, while holding hunting rifles in their hands. A gentle breeze flew by, chilling the air and caressing their faces. Occasionally a bird sang out above with the leaves shaking along the wind.

It was peaceful out here, like the whole world didn't exist except this. After a bit of hiking they come across a clearing of a grass field. Inching their way down onto the ground, letting their body's sink within the grass and holding their rifles out in front. Next they wait... leaving the silence to occupy the forest.

Nearly half an hour goes by, until the sound of leaves crumbling announce itself. Appearing from the forest proudly stood a lone deer, large antlers decorating its head as it edged forward to the clearing. Chilled air escapes from its nose, eyes scanning the field, before settling its head down to munch on the grass below.

*BANG*

The deer collapse onto the ground with a cry, the echoes of the shot ringing throughout the blue sky. One of the figures pat the other on the back, rubbing their shoulders. Pushing themselves off the grassy field to their full heights, they walk over towards the dying deer. Once they're close enough, their forms light up from the sun's glow, giving a clear view of them.

The older man had a tan skin and grey beard matching his black short cut hair, wrinkles dressing the man's face with emotionless hazel eyes peering at the deer. He wore a dark brown coat with a green fuzzy shirt, brown pants leading down to a pair of tough walnut boots. He kneels down onto the ground, slinging his rifle on his back and sinking his boots into the dirt as he examines the deer.

Next to him stood a younger man with paler skin, clean shave and dark messy brown hair tucked behind his ears. He watched with similar eyes to the older man, wearing nothing more than a buttoned up pale green jacket, white shirt beneath and dark blue jeans with dark brown boots of his own. His eyes glanced at the bullet wound on the deer, averting his gaze uncomfortably.

"Clean shot." The older man informs, nodding his head. "Nice work, son."

The young man reloads his rifle. "Can we go now?" He questions tiredly.

The older man stares at the sunrise, watching it slowly rise over the tree line. "Yeah... Yeah we can go now. Help me with this." He asks, grabbing one of the deer's antlers.

The young man straps his rifle onto his back, before grabbing the other antler. Both of them drag the deer in silence, the gentle breeze caressing their skin. Trails of cold air blow from their mouths as they continue to drag the deer through the forest. After a few minutes they eventually reach the end of the forest where a grey pickup truck waits.

Taking the deer around the rear end of the truck and lifting over onto the back, the older man straps the deer on. The younger man wipes his hands over his jeans and starts heading to the passenger side, opening the door and closing himself in. The older man pauses his actions, watching his son intently.

As he finishes strapping the deer securely in the back, he heads over to the driver seat and opens the door. The younger man stares out the opposite window, barely registering his dad's presence. The older man hops in, tucking his rifle in the back seat, along with his sons. He goes to turn the truck on, but hesitates for a moment.

His eyes trail over to his son, unsure whether he's truly paying attention to the other side of the window. "You've been awfully quiet." He notes, scratching at his chin.

"Is it illegal to be quiet now?" The young man replies blandly.

His father shrugs. "Just unlike you."

"Well..." The young man peels away from the window, melting into the seat and staring up at the ceiling. "A lot of things have been unlike me."

"Including being suspended from school?" His Dad inquired.

His son's face twisted into a frown. "The dude was asking for it." He mumbles out.

"I don't doubt that…" His father agrees, knowingly. "But you're close to graduation now. Don't ruin that by making stupid mistakes."

He glances over at his Dad, eyes knitting together. "Isn't that what I do." He states.

His father lets out a tired sigh. "Leo... we've been over this. It wasn't your fault."

Leo folds his arms, not believing it for a second. "Certainly feels like it."

His Dad rests his hand on Leo's shoulder. "Your mother wouldn't want-" Immediately his hand gets slapped away.

"Don't fucking bring her into this." Leo snapped, hands clenched tightly as a fire lit within his eyes.

His father froze under the intense glare flooding his son's eyes.

"We all knew what she wanted…" Leo whispers, words threatening to break. "And I couldn't even give her that. Maybe, if I actually listened everything wouldn't have gone to shit ever since that day. Don't even fucking say it wasn't because of me… Jack knew it."

He turns away from his father, tears tease the edges of Leo's eyes. His father stiffened at the mention of Jack and struggled to think of something, anything he could say. But nothing else is spoken between the two, both sitting in complete silence. A silence that's broken by the faint sniffles that struggle to be held back as shuddering breath escapes the depths of his lungs.

"I don't know how to fix any of this… all I do is drive people away." Leo's body slumped against the truck door, no longer having the energy. "Can we just go home now." He begged tiredly.

Leo's eyes seal themselves tight, shutting himself away from the world. His Dad goes to reach for him one last time, but hesitates. He's unsure what to do… never been the best person when it comes to comforting. Instead he switches the truck on, the engine rumbling with life as he grabs the gear stick and puts it into first. He drives off down the dirt path, away from the forest, silence occupying the whole ride.

By the time they arrived home the sun shone brightly within the clear sky. The truck followed along a dirt path, driving up towards a woodsy house sitting by the woods. The house shared similarities to that of a Cabin with a garage shack beside it and no neighbours in sight. But they weren't too far from civilization, having the main street merely about two hundred feet out front.

The truck pulled to a stop by the front porch of the house, switching off the engine, prompting Leo to make his exit. Slamming the truck door shut behind him, walked up to the front door and unlocked it with a key, opening it wide and disappearing into the house. His father watches all of this from the driver seat with concern itching itself in his eyes. He rests his forehead against the steering wheel.

"I don't know what to do, Smilie." He whispered.

The man felt pathetic. His son was clearly hurting and he couldn't do anything about it. No… He didn't know what to do about it. His family's broken, his son needs someone and… all he's doing is pulling out optimistic views out of his ass.

Rubbing the tiredness out from his eyes, exits the driver seat. Glancing at the back of the truck, he'll have to leave soon to take that deer into town soon. But not yet. He heads up the front porch and through the front entrance, letting a familiar warmth wash over him.

The inside wasn't even too fancy with a living room taking a majority of the space and the kitchen beside it. On the other end of the room was a hallway that led to the bedrooms, including the toilet. Everything shared the same colour as the house, due to his wife being a bit of a perfectionist. How much he's missed those days.

His eyes subconsciously drift at an old framed photo peacefully resting on the wall. The photo was taken when we all first moved here ten years ago. It's him and his wife kneeling in front of the house he currently stood in with two young boys sitting on their legs. His wife was a brunette with chocolate eyes with Leo sitting on her leg, next to him was his older brother Jack… a boy with black hair and eyes like his mother.

His hands caress the photo, memories of the good times flowing. It's times like these he lets himself sink into the past, forgetting that a tomorrow even existed. But he still had a duty as a father to be there for his son's tomorrow. He heads over to the kitchen, grabbing a pen and a piece of paper off the fridge. The tip of his pen freezes… his mind unsure of what to write.

So he lets his heart write instead. Each word filled with purpose, filled with hope and filled with… love. He's never been the best at comforting that much is clear, but that doesn't mean he can't try. It doesn't take long to finish writing, double checking his words and carefully grasping the paper.

Leo shouldn't be awake for a few hours, probably walked straight into his room and crashed onto his bed. Unfortunately he won't be here when he wakes up, having to work overtime tonight. So he hopes for this piece of paper… to speak on his behalf. He treads down the hallway and halts by a door, kneeling down to the floor he slides the paper underneath. He's not sure what'll happen… but hopefully Leo will understand.

He's like his mother after all.

Leo breathed softly against his bed sheet. He wanted nothing more than to simply avoid the whole world beyond his room. But the weights pining his eyes were beginning to lift, revealing his room bathed in thin rays of the sun, peeking from his blinds. It didn't take long for his entire body to groan in protest, one of the downsides from sleeping in an uncomfortable position.

Guess that serves him for sleeping with his gear still on. He rolls over, so he's facing the ceiling and exhales from the depths of his lungs. Already it felt like the weight of the world was pushing down against him. Sometimes he wishes he could just stay in bed all day… he's sure Mum would just call him lazy.

He lets out a sullen chuckle at the thought. He lifts his hand up and brushes the blinds aside, noticing it's probably about late afternoon. He's always had an issue with getting enough rest, should probably fix that at some point. Starting with a new mattress.

The aching within his bones pressed harder as he forced himself up from the bed and sat on the edge of it. He noticed how hush the house was, completely silent. He hated it. It only served as another reminder for him. He rubs his face, massaging the skin across his temple

"What I'm I supposed to do…" He helplessly asks.

He stays like this for nearly a minute, until he catches a glimpse of something white by the foot of his door. The bed creaks from the weight lifting off it as Leo walks over to the door. Kneeling down and grabbing it, he realises it's a letter… a letter from his Dad.

He can't help but be confused. Can't his Dad just tell him himself? What's so important that he had to write it down. While he could ponder over this, he decides to uncurl the letter and read it.

Leo,

I'm not the best when it comes to saying something emotional. So… I thought I'd write down what I want you to hear.

I know you feel lost right now. Unsure of where your future will be heading in a world without... them.

Your mother loved you so so much and always admired that you never quit things halfway through.

That's why I know you'll find yourself soon again. It may not be easy, but we have to believe that things can and will get better.

Even when it starts to get tough... and you'll feel like giving up. Just remember I'll always be here for you at the end of the day.

Love always,

Your Father

Leo's eyes widen as he takes in every word. "Dad." He whispers.

He wants to believe things will get better… he really does. But how can they? How can they when things are the way they are because of him!? A part of him deep within wants to be angry. He wants to tear the letter apart and toss it away.

Yet he holds the paper tightly, fingers delicately tracing the inked words from one end to the other. It's true he's lost… so lost that not even a map would set him back on track. He knows he hasn't been the same for awhile, but how's he supposed to when the people that made him him aren't here anymore!? If he's going to find himself again, it's not here.

An idea strikes Leo. "Not here…" He ponders.

Maybe that's what he needs. Time alone, time away to just… find himself. Folding the paper in half and carefully tucking it away in his pocket, he twists the doors handle open and exits his room. He's greeted by the sight of an empty house, but he pushes through it. He heads into the kitchen and starts piling some supplies on the unit. Water, food, wallet, tools, a bag and extra set of clothes, anything he'd need.

Realising what he's about to do, hesitates for a moment. His eyes catch the sight of a pen on the kitchen counter. He mulls about his next actions… before picking up the pen and a sticky note from one the drawers. Scribbling a quick note, he sticks it on his bedroom door and heads to the front door, yanking his bag off the counter and snatching some car keys hanging by the front door.

He reunites with the cold breeze blowing against his face, goose bumps flowing beneath the worn-out thick fuzzy clothing bound against his skin. Chilled air escapes from his nostrils, carried away by the faint wind and fading away from the world. He can't help but take notice how the world always remains the same, even when his feels like it's crumbling.

Walking down the porch to the side of the house where he's met by the garage door. Curling his fingers under the bottom and with a heavy heft, lifts it open. There greeting him before his eyes was the family car, an old station wagon. To others it may have looked like nothing, but to Leo… the memories driven with this car made it valuable.

Opening the boot and piling it up, Leo can't help regret taking these supplies without asking his permission. But if he told his Dad what he was doing, he doesn't think he would've made it past the front door. With everything in place, he hops in the driver seat and turns the engine on. He let's the car roll out the garage, before coming to a stop.

He gazes at his home beyond the window, hands clutching the steering wheel tightly. "I'll be back… I'll be back soon." He assured himself, before continuing to drive away onto the main road, not once looking back.

Space, The Present

Crimson couldn't help but watch the stars zoom past the window of the hatch. Some would focus on the beautiful sight of it, but Crimson… he couldn't help look deeper into it all. A small beep goes off, drawing his attention towards the ship's controls, rays of different coloured lights decorated the console. In the centre of it all was an orange star map, displaying the galactic map, a helpful guide for those traveling across space.

Crimson taps the star map, bringing up a detailed view of the galaxy and highlighting the area he's heading towards. By the look of things, it shouldn't be long until he arrives at his destination now. After handling that reptilian gang or goons as some would call them on Torren IV, he's been meaning to make a pit stop at another bar. One he doesn't plan to cause too much trouble in, not like the owner would allow him too anyway.

"Arriving in three… two… one." The ship's automated voice chimed in.

It didn't take long to spot the familiar space station surrounded by a field of asteroids. Plus there's a massive green neon arrow pointing straight at it from atop a drifting asteroid. Zurkies, better known as Zurkies Gastropub and Battleplex, a common hotspot for those searching for parts, weapons or information. But today Crimson wanted one person in particular.

Spotting a free landing pad on the station below, Crimson pulled the throttle back, slowing down enough on approach and manoeuvring the ship towards the platform. But he double checked that the area was clear, avoiding any unfortunate accidents… again. Crimson eased the ship down as the landing gears softly pressed against the steel floor. The hatch popped open with a hiss, allowing him to climb out.

Crimson started walking to the main building on the station, passing by a few aliens who occasionally glanced at him. Something he's gotten quite used to over the years alone in this strange galaxy. Then again he's gotten used to a lot of things because of this galaxy, some bad, some good. A never ending coin flip.

"How's my second favourite customer!" A cheery feminine southern accent calls out.

Reeled out from his thoughts, Crimson gazes up ahead to spot a familiar hovering robot with a holographic sign above them reading 'Mrs Zurkon'. Her body was an oval shape doused in a mix of light and dark green, gold plates styled into a necklace and eyes similar to some old glasses. Behind her proudly stood her store filled with various weapon arsenals for sale. He always thought of her as the granny robot of the galaxy, especially with the way she spoke.

Crimson stops and greets her with a nod. "Mrs Zurkon."

"Haven't seen you around these parts for quite some time darlin'." She notes, eyeing Crimson playfully.

"Been busy." Crimson shrugs. "Business going alright?"

"Business is always good sugar!" She replies, happily spinning around.

Other than Mrs Zurkons charming personality, she's one of the most reliable arms dealers you'd find throughout the galaxy. With shops distributed to various planets in the galaxy, it's nearly impossible not to run into her. But Crimson always had a suspicion that there's more than one Mrs Zurkon, unfortunately for him the old bot never gave a straight answer to his theory. Another mystery he'd have to add to the list.

"And how's Zurkon Jr. university savings coming along?" He asks.

"Oh that boy is gonna make my gears rust, I tell you. First he wants to study audio engineering', now he's suddenly interested in existential economics!" Mrs Zurkon helplessly rants, waving her arms.

"That's kids for you. Hardly know what they want nowadays." Crimson chuckles half-heartedly.

She chuckles along with him. "Ain't that true. But that won't stop Mrs Zurkon from giving him my full support!" She declared proudly.

Crimson admired this part about Mrs Zurkon, always wanting to help her son. She's a good mother, along with her husband who's a pretty good dad. Sometimes we often forget parents are people too. He just hopes Zurkon Jr. realises what he has… and hopefully gives Mrs Zurkon artificial heart a rest.

"Enough about me, how've you been?" Mrs Zurkon keenly asks.

Crimson briefly thinks for a moment. "...I've been fine. Avoiding getting shot here and there. Could use a new gun though." He mentions, subconsciously twitching his hand.

She instantly perks up. "Oooooh interested in stocking up?"

Crimson looks over at the weapons she has on display. "Got anything special today?"

"Well sugar!" Mrs Zurkon wraps an arm around Crimson, leading him over to her store. "I'll have you know, I've recently received a shipment of Enforcers. If that catches your attention!" She says, while pulling out a large sci-fi double-barrel shotgun.

She lifts the gun up with both hands. "Why this beauty is packed with pure power and delivers some sweet destruction! You can pull the fire trigger halfway to shoot one barrel and if you're feeling confident, pull it all the way to shoot both barrels!" She excitedly explains.

She hands it over to Crimson, who starts giving it a good look over. Everything looks to be in excellent condition and it definitely feels light to carry. Preferably he'd rather carry something smaller, but he certainly could go for a gun that packs a punch. And besides it comes in red… well orange-ish red.

"How much for it?" Crimson questions.

Mrs Zurkons eyes light up. "1,250 bolts for that sugar!" She exclaims.

A blue holoscreen pulls up with Crimson's account details, along with the model of The Enforcer waiting to be purchased. Luckily he had plenty of Bolts to spare, sitting at a balance of around 240,000 bolts. He… spends a lot of time taking one too many jobs. Anyway, he transfers the bolts over to Mrs Zurkon and confirms the purchase. The Enforcer in Crimsons hands digitalises out of existence, slotting itself into his arsenal.

Satisfied, Crimson starts walking away and waves Mrs Zurkon goodbye. "See you later, Mrs Zurkon."

"Don't take too long to visit again, Crimson!" She shouts, waving.

A ding echoes as an elevator opens wide, revealing Crimson. He steps out and heads down the hallway, music and laughter booming from the other end. He's rarely visited places as packed as this, remembering the first time he came here. A nervous wreck he was. Now he simply shows up for work or other stuff that'll make his work easier.

Crimson occasionally glanced out the viewing window from the side, passing by a cleaner bot or other people exiting. It didn't take long to reach the security entrance of the club. Crimson passed through a security gate, disabling his access to his weapons. The one rule about this bar was no weapons allowed, a violence free-zone, unless you're signing up for the battle arena.

"Welcome to Zurkies, your local galaxies Gastropub and Battleplex!" Announced a citizen bot from behind the counter.

Crimson simply walked past him and straight into the club as the door slid open. The room was dimly lit with music vibrating the place. And it seemed a variety of people were packed throughout the bar as well. Pirates, bots, aliens and other types of creatures we're busy chatting to one another, dancing, drinking or riding the mechanical bull ride in the middle. But Crimson wasn't interested in them at the moment.

Shooting a quick glance across the whole room, it didn't take long to spot one person in particular. Over by one of the booth areas filled with drinks, sat one of those alien citizens with purple skin and a single large green eye. On either side of him were two women wrapped around his arms, giggling at whatever the man was saying. It didn't take long for the alien citizen to spot Crimson approaching him.

"Ah here he is!" He waves a hand in Crimsons direction. "Crimson buddy! We were just talking about you! Please take a seat!" He eagerly asks, gesturing towards an empty seat at the booth.

Crimson doesn't move.

"Or stand. That's fine too. So what brings you here?" He questions.

Crimson doesn't say anything, except reaching into his brown pouch resting on the left side of his hip and tosses the remains of his Combuster gun on the booth table. An awkward silence goes around the table.

"...Oh."

Crimson crosses his arms. "Want to explain why my gun exploded?"

Sweat pours down the alien's forehead. "Ladies you might want to leave."

Both women, noticing the shift in atmosphere, quickly gather their belongings and hurriedly walk away. The alien citizen shifted uncomfortably in his seat under Crimsons intense stare. He tugs at his collar. "Exploded you say? That's uh… weird."

"Don't act like you don't know, Lux." Crimson leans down to eye level with him. "Who sold you the gun modification?"

Lux shrinks into his seat. "Uh Crimson pal, you're a reasonable bot right? I'm sure we could work out another deal!" He attempts to reason.

It's always the same thing with Lux. You catch him red-handed and he'll try to weasel his way out. Crimson usually bought parts from this guy occasionally, but one day he apparently had a special product. A gun module to be exact, that'd increase the damage output. While the gun module itself looked decent, after today though, apparently not decent enough.

"Don't make this difficult, Lux."

Lux expression cringes. "I-I can't and besides you know violence isn't allowed in here!" He reminds Crimson as a last resort.

"You can either tell me here… or out there." Crimson threatens coldly, while gesturing his thumb at the battle arena outside.

If you listen closely enough the faint sounds of guns going off and metal getting bashed can be heard. Something Lux could definitely hear from where he's sitting. "I- uh fine! Fine! It was someone from Nefarious City!" He finally answered.

Nefarious City or as Crimson prefers to call it, Neon hell. Nothing good ever did come from there. The whole planet was mainly occupied by bots with strict regulations all around the globe. You step out of line and… well better hope you didn't take a big step. But Crimson's more worried about another detail.

"Someone?" He repeats with an edge in his tone.

"They didn't tell me who they were, alright!? They offered me the module and I took it!" Lux frantically explains.

"Why'd they offer you it?" Crimson questions further.

"I don't know!" Lux widely waves around his hands. "I saw it, the price was good, so I bought it! Simple as that!"

"If I find out you're lying…" Crimson warns.

"I get it! Fully understand!" Lux says with a strained smile, scooting out of his seat and speed walking away.

Crimson watches Lux fade into the crowd, before letting out a tired sigh. What a day. He was hoping for more information then 'someone,' but it sounds like the seller wanted to be all mysterious. That's the last time he's buying anything that even looks remotely interesting off the streets. At least things can't get any worse, now he just needs to find-

Suddenly an arm wraps around Crimsons shoulders. "Crimson dude! What're the chances of seeing you here!" An annoyingly hipster and chill voice happily said.

Never mind, things can get worse.

Crimson reluctantly stared at the owner of the arm holding him hostage. There in all of his glory, the one person who seemed hell-bent on invading Crimsons personal life, Phantom. Otherwise known as one of the resistance members, a proud one at that. Despite his best efforts, Crimson always seems to run into this guy.

The man wore a black and orange jumpsuit with a blue glowing chest piece. For accessories he wore black three-fingered gloves, steel boots and pouches decorating his waist. On top of his head was a black steel helmet with fins on each side and a bright red visor, covering his eyes. Kind of reminds him of this one x-men guy, only if they had green skin and a tail similar to an alligator.

"Phan-"

"Let's grab a drink!" Phantom eagerly announces.

Crimson is utterly helpless as he's dragged over by the bar counter. Phantom sits Crimson down by one of the bar stools, taking the other seat on his right. Crimson looks to his left, seeing a sheep casually sitting on the stool next to him. The sheep nods to him, Crimson nods back.

"Yo Zurkies!" Phantom calls out.

A synthoid robot called Zurkies, hovers over to Phantom and Crimson. First thing you notice about Zurkie is that he has a black chassis with gold like material hands, similar to his bottom jaw. On his back was a small jet pack that could be mistaken for a backpack that pretty much helps him hover. His eyes looked like a pair of goggles that glowed blue, spikes trailing his head and an antenna with a red ball on top.

Zurkie bows to Phantom. "Namaste and peace be with you, Phantom." He then bows to Crimson. "And to you as well, Crimson." He peacefully greets.

"Mind getting me a Green Blast and my friend here the same." Phantom asks.

Zurkies gives a nod and hovers to the back shelf's, mixing up the drinks. Crimsons doesn't say anything, already knowing where this conversation is heading. Phantom spins around in his seat and faces Crimson, wearing an innocent smile.

"I have got to say it's great to see you again, Crimson!" Phantom says happily.

"You saw me last week."

"But with our bond it feels like forever." He sincerely states.

Crimson can't help but be scared to ask. "What bond exactly?"

He grabs Crimsons arm and waves his other hand along the room. "The bond of justice! Two dudes seeking to make the galaxy a better place." He explains, clenching his fist for dramatic effect.

Crimson decides to ignore that and shrugs Phantom's hand off. "Shouldn't you be on any missions?" He questions, hoping to change the conversation.

"Ah I would, but my buddy's decided I should lay low from my last one." Phantom shared. "Guess the Emperor didn't take too kindly to my stunt a few weeks ago!"

Crimson does recall that a certain resistance member broadcasted a rebel message on Emperor Nefarious' own personal tower. Not only that, but the message ran for six hours straight mainly because Nefarious forces were conflicted whether to stop the message or avoid damaging the tower. It was quite a display that seemed to infuriate the Emperor himself.

"But I'll be back out there soon!" Phantom continues. "Just you wait!"

Zurkie arrives back with two drinks filled with green fluid. He places each down in front of Phantom and Crimson, before zooming off to another customer. Phantom grabs his drink and takes a large swig from it, while Crimson leaves his alone on the counter. Phantom places his drink back down, expressing an "Aaah!" with delight.

Crimson decides to cut to the chase. "I know why you're here, Phantom."

A smirk slides it's way on Phantom, until it's replaced by a serious expression. "Listen Crimson, the resistance could use someone like you!"

"Pass." Crimson replies without hesitation.

"The resistance isn't something that's passed aside, it beckons you. It's a calling for those that are sick and tired of the way our galaxy, our homes are treated." Phantom states passionately, holding a hand out to Crimson. "And it's time to answer your calling, Crimson."

Crimson shakes his head at the idea. "My calling? I'm just someone trying to make their way in the galaxy."

Phantom leans back casually on his stool. "True. But you also help others make their way too." He points out.

"Because I'm being paid too." Crimson reminds him firmly.

Phantom stands up and places a tab down on the counter, covering for both of their drinks. "Trust me Crimson, there's a resistance in you. You'll realise soon enough." He flashes a smile.

He starts walking off, patting Crimson on the shoulder and giving him a thumbs up. Crimson watches him leave the club, before turning back to the bar. Him? A resistance member? Phantom needs to double check who he picks for recruitment. And besides he's got other agendas that he's busy with, so he's got no time to play star wars.

Noticing his untouched drink, he slides it over to the sheep who gladly takes it.

"Baaaah."

Crimson waves over Zurkies attention to his end of the bar. "Hey Zurkies, has she arrived yet?" He asks, emphasising someone specific.

"She's at the usual booth, Crimson." Zurkies informs.

Crimson gives Zurkies a thankful nod, before getting up and leaving. He can't help but notice today feels like a meet-and-greet. Let's just hope he doesn't run into everyone now. He's never been the best at socialising nowadays, especially with other alien species.

It didn't take long to reach one of the booths by the entrance. Sitting comfortably in the booth was a woman dressed in all black clothing. The most unique part about her outfit was the hood she had over a mask that seemed to be a mix between a purple visor and an underwater breather. Whether she was organic or not was another mystery.

Her three handed fingers danced across the edge of the table, sitting with a stiff posture that seemed to go at ease when she noticed Crimson. He took a seat on the opposite side of her.

"How was Torren IV?" She asks

"The village shouldn't have any problems from now on." Crimson reported.

She nods in acknowledgment. "That's good to hear. I've also received information that you refused payment… again." She stated exhaustedly.

He ignores her tone. "The village needed the bolts." Crimson explains himself.

Without a word she slides a few bolts over to Crimson. "Consider it a thank you."

He hesitates, but reluctantly takes the bolts. "Got anything else for me?" Crimson asks.

She chuckles amusingly. "Always moving onto the next job… huh Leo?"

Crimson tenses under his armour. "What have I told you about calling me that in public." He quietly hisses, glancing around for anyone potentially listening.

"Believe me, I wouldn't be here if someone was listening." She waves off his worries. "The galaxy may see you as Crimson , but you'll always be that quirky kid I met years ago." She playfully reminds him.

Crimson looks away uncomfortable. "Like you said, that was years ago… it's just Crimson now."

"Hmmm." She rests her elbows on the table and leans forward. "You know what you need, Crimson?"

"...What?" He asks hesitantly.

"You need someone that can tie you down." She bluntly says with a teasing tone bleeding behind her words.

Crimson, not liking the sudden direction of the conversation, shifts awkwardly in his seat.

Whether she noticed his discomfort or not, continues talking. "You need someone that can set that head of yours straight and it certainly isn't me. Have you ever thought about meeting someone?" She questions.

"I… don't think that would work out for me." He says honestly.

Back in the olds days, he thought about how his life would be with that certain someone. Maybe if he was still the same back then, it could've worked out. Back when he was more... him. But now, he doesn't really believe he'd make a good partner with anyone.

"Sure? Not even-"

"Do you have another job or not?" Crimson cuts her off hastily.

She reluctantly backs off… for now. "Yes. But one you won't be taking today." She answers him.

Crimson tilts his head at her confusingly. "Why?" He questions.

"How long have you been working?" She asks him.

Caught off by the question, thinks it over for a second. "About two weeks." He replies.

"And how many times did you rest?" She continues.

"..."

She gives a tired sigh. "This is exactly what I meant. You remind me of another stubborn acquaintance… only more quieter." She muses to herself, before staring off to the side. "One day you're going to get yourself killed with this behaviour." She warns him.

Crimson remains quiet in his seat, unsure of what to say in this situation. The two listen to the sounds of the club, music clawing for attention as crowds start to thin out. She gets up from the booth, trailing her hand on the edge of the table, which eventually leads to Crimson's arm.

"I care about everyone I work with, including you. Get some rest, Leo." She tells him sincerely, before leaving him alone at the booth.

Crimson stays seated, left alone with his thoughts.