[Roleplay] Epilogue
01 Nov 2022CrazyGolm
This piece of roleplay was published in the Buur Pit Community Chronicle 2021. As such, it is from 3307 in-universe time. I am only publishing it to INARA in 2022, so the events are from last year.UNIDENTIFIED PLANET – SUNDAY
The man stood by the open window. He gazed out into the azure sky beyond the apartment he found himself in. The fresh air brushed gently against his face. The leaves rustled softly in the trees below him, a faint but comforting crackling.
He would be safe here.
He had arrived here not long ago. Though they knew little about him or his background, the locals had taken him in, no strings attached. So welcoming. Much kinder than he had come to expect of people.
He was not old, but he felt old. Most of the others were younger than him, full of energy and the joy of life. He felt worn down and out, and he wished he could be more like them than he was.
As the man leaned on the window-frame on that bright Sunday afternoon, he contemplated all that had happened of late, and what had brought him here.
The man was a combat pilot. He had been a hero, trying to stand up for the vulnerable and fight for what was right. He was known to his counterparts as a man of honour, who sought to be understanding, caring and kind as much as possible. He was famed throughout Agency territory, having participated in many altercations, both known and undisclosed. However, things had become complicated, friends were becoming few, and situations had turned sour. Things were no longer so black and white, and it all weighed heavily on his mind.
All this bad blood…
…It had to go.
He had been in the business for too long.
One day the man had walked into Vice Chancellor Logan O’Neal’s office with one sentence:
“I need to get away from here.”
Fortunately, the Vice Chancellor was an understanding man, and he knew combat pilots got burned out quickly.
Logan had been able to pull a few strings and get him offside secretly, without any prying eyes or irritating paper-trail to worry about. He was able to disappear without a trace. Only a handful in the wider Agency had any idea of where he had gone, and they would keep quiet.
In his room, there could be found a Duradrive equipped with military-grade network transceivers, gathering less dust than he wished. Despite his efforts to go radio silent, he found himself instinctively checking it all too often.
The man’s eyes went to the garden below him, still green and lush under the bright autumn sun. He looked up again, past the buildings nearby and to the open sky above him. He missed flying. His Eagle was currently stored in a bicycle shed of all places.
Yet the man knew he didn’t belong in the air if it was the same atmosphere as before. The atmosphere of animosity had hurt him enough.
From now on he would be a “live and let live” sort of man.
If he ever took up fighting again, he would make things different. He would keep the mood amicable as much as possible, and ignore those who would try to drag him down. A book that he kept close to his heart read “Do everything in love.” He must live by that.
There was something else one could find in his room. On his chair, an orange flight suit helmet with an opaque visor.
One day yet, he may use it again.