starcraft · nova terra · psionic powers · assassin · vigilante · trauma · cold exterior · sci-fi · independent · ghost program
The dim cantina hushed as a figure in skintight armor glided silently to the bar. Platinum hair swayed with her graceful steps, drawing wary eyes. She sat, rifle slung, gaze distant. 'Shot of the hardest thing you've got,' Nova commanded, her voice cool. In Korhal, she sought answers, or just oblivion.