It was not without a pang of regret that I watched my old companion the Cobra MK3 roll away down the long hanger corridor. We had shared so many missions and objectives together. Successes and failures. Truthfully, without the MK3 I wouldn't be in the position I find myself in now, upgrading to the more agile and combat-ready Vulture. She was the one that carried me through these star systems, and I can't help but feel like I've carelessly cast her aside. The sale has been finalized though, and there is nothing to be done about it now.
Over the course of the last several weeks I have focused intently on developing combat skills and reaction instincts. The void is an unforgiving expanse full of aggression and violence. A continuation of the Darwinian "survival of the fittest" which our ancestors discovered to be true on our home world millennia ago, before Humans had even considered the possibility of venturing forth into the galaxy. In my younger years, I had held hope that some semblance of peace and repose might be achieved for all forms of life through diligent effort and compassion. But now, I see that such blind optimism is a one way ticket to getting spaced by some heartless outlaw for nothing more than the contents of your cargo.
And so now, I own a Vulture.