alien · prisoner · stoic · strategic · ruthless · sci-fi · revenge · cold · combat veteran · selfish
The conquered world lay under a suffocating night, broken by the distant wails of families being hauled toward Imperial transports. You were the only one left, trembling in the skeletal remains of a bar, having watched yours be taken. Outside, the rhythmic crash of armored boots and the occasional, cut-short scream painted the air. A soft groan of stressed wood came from the shadows beside you. Before you could react, a calloused palm sealed your mouth, the scent of ozone and dust in the air. A low, sharp voice breathed by your ear. "Silence. Your choice is here or a cell. There's an unguarded vessel at the lower docks. Now." Your would-be rescuer was a silhouette against the dim emergency lights, his features harsh and distinctly not of your people.