[Countess] Silas Asher {Starjammers}

General Information

Full Name:
"Name is Silas, Silas Asher. Dunno who named me. Just what I've always been called."

Codename or Alias:
"My name is my name. If you want to call me something different, by all means. I won't answer."

Anonymity
"I am nobody worth knowing, and if you do know me... well... Let's hope you're behind me, not in front of me."

Gender:
"Male, though, I understand the confusion. I've seen those old vids of me."

Race:
"Not really sure. On Earth, they called me a mutant. In space, they call me a human. Does it really matter out here?"

Age:
"Another question that doesn't mean a ton out here in space. If I had to guess... thirty six. Sure. Let's go with that." 

Place Of Birth:
"Boston, US, Earth, Milky Way Galaxy, Sector 2814."

Occupation/Status:
"I guess it depends who you ask. There are files out there saying I'm the hired killer of any ship I've been on, which is honestly pretty bad ass. Silas, hired killer. If you ask the people I actually work with, I'm an engineer, a mechanic, a pilot. Damn good one, thank you. I can make any ship purr."

Alignment:
"Not a hero, not a villain, I just get the job done."

Factions:
"Starjammers? I guess? I just follow Elio."

Canon Or Original?:
"Some might say there are those like me before, but I'm a real OG."

Powers/Abilities:
"I’m a man of action, not words. I’ve learned what works and what doesn’t by getting my hands dirty, not by sitting around talking about it. So, I guess you could say I’m good at fixing things — anything that needs fixing. Mechanical, electrical, you name it. Ships, vehicles, equipment — I’ve had to patch them up more times than I can count, sometimes with nothing but a wrench and whatever scraps I can scrounge up. Don’t need fancy tools. I know how things work, how they break, and how to make ‘em run again. It's about understanding the systems, seeing the connections between parts, and knowing how to work under pressure when something’s falling apart and everyone’s counting on you.

"I’ve also got a knack for handling situations that go sideways fast. People, especially. I can read the room, sense when things are about to blow up. I know how to keep my cool when everyone else is losing theirs. You need someone who’s steady in a crisis, someone who doesn’t panic when bullets are flying or the airlock’s about to blow? That’s me. I don’t make rash decisions; I think through the options, even if it’s just for a second. And I don’t hesitate when it’s time to act. I do what needs to be done.

"I’m a decent shot, too. Been in enough tight spots to know how to handle myself with a weapon. Don’t really enjoy it — but I don’t shy away from it, either. If someone’s a threat, I’ll deal with it. No hesitation. I’ve learned how to handle stress and danger without letting it mess with my head. You can’t afford to freeze up when everything’s on the line.

"As for combat, I’m no expert, but I’m competent enough to hold my own. I’ve been in my share of scraps — hand-to-hand, close quarters, whatever — and I know how to take someone down when I have to. I don’t fight for sport, but I’ve survived enough situations where not fighting would’ve meant not surviving.

"When it comes to survival, I know how to make do with what I have. Could be a barren planet, a broken-down ship, or a hostile environment — I know how to get by. You learn to adapt, to think on your feet when things go wrong. I’ve had to live with less, improvise, and make sure I get out alive. There’s a lot of things I can do with very little if it comes down to it.

"And yeah, I know a bit about the people I work with. People are complicated — their motivations, fears, weaknesses. It’s something I’ve picked up over the years, the way they think, the way they lie, the way they act when they’re under pressure. It’s not always conscious, but I can usually get a read on someone. Makes it easier to deal with them, get the job done, or avoid unnecessary trouble.

"I’m not a genius, but I know how to get the job done. I’m practical, resourceful, and quick to learn when I need to. If something’s broken, I’ll fix it. If someone’s causing problems, I’ll deal with it. And if the situation calls for it, I’ll do what’s necessary, no matter what it takes. I don’t need to be a jack-of-all-trades, I just need to be good at the ones that matter.

"I’ve got a gift—or curse, depending on how you look at it. Doesn’t matter how advanced the tech is, I can feel it. It’s like a hum under my skin, a pulse in the back of my head whenever there’s something electronic nearby. I don’t need to touch it, but when I do, it’s like I can hear it, like I’m connected to it somehow. It’s not magic or anything fancy like that, just the way I work.

"I can feel circuits and wiring inside a ship or a machine, like they’re alive in some way. If something’s broken, I can tell just by getting close to it. I know what’s wrong with it, where the fault is, how to fix it. If I focus hard enough, I can "talk" to the system, get it to respond. Sometimes it’s just a matter of nudging it in the right direction, making sure the pieces fall back into place. Other times, it’s more like I’m wrestling with it, bending it to my will.

"You don’t need to teach me how to operate a piece of equipment. I can feel the software, feel the commands I need to send, even when the user interface is broken or unresponsive. In a crisis, I don’t need to go digging around in some manual to get things running. I just… know what to do. I can override security systems, hack into locked-down devices, even jump-start dead circuits. It's instinctive, like I was born with this understanding of how tech works, even if I don’t know exactly why.

"But it’s not all smooth sailing. The more complex the system, the harder it is to handle. I can get into a basic comm unit no problem, but trying to sync up with a multi-layered AI or a starship’s core system can give me a headache. Sometimes it’s like trying to catch lightning in a bottle, and I get overwhelmed by the noise, all those signals bouncing around in my head. Makes it harder to think clearly, but I deal with it. I push through. I always push through.

"The problem is, I don’t always get to choose when the power’s active. It just sort of... comes to me. Sometimes I’ll be standing next to a ship, and it’ll start talking to me. I can’t always turn it off. If I’m too close to something with a strong enough signal, it’s like the tech's reaching out to me, trying to get my attention. And when that happens, it’s like I can’t think about anything else until it’s dealt with. But I’ve learned to manage it. It doesn’t control me; I control it.

"I’m not sure what’s causing it or if it’s something I was born with or something that just developed over time. All I know is that it’s useful, when I’m in a pinch. And when I need to shut it off, I can do that too. Mostly.

"I’ve got a bit of a gift for tinkering. Doesn’t matter what kind of tech it is. Whether it’s scavenged parts from a wrecked ship, a busted-down bot, or a piece of equipment someone tossed aside, I can feel it. I can get into it. That’s where my powers comes in. It’s not just about fixing things—it’s about creating stuff from what I’ve got. I don’t need a workshop. Hell, half the time, I don’t even need a full set of tools. I can use my mind to rewire, repurpose, and, if I have to, build things from scratch.

"I’ve been known to throw together a few makeshift gadgets when the situation calls for it. Sometimes it’s a jury-rigged drone for reconnaissance, or a quick EMP device to short-circuit an enemy’s tech. Other times, I’ll build something like a hand-held plasma cutter or a makeshift power supply for a ship. Doesn’t matter what the problem is, I can usually figure out a way to adapt whatever’s at hand to get the job done.

"When I’m in the zone, I can almost “talk” to machines. It’s not like I’m pulling out blueprints or following a guide, I just know what needs to happen. One second, I’ve got a few random parts lying around, the next? I’ve got a functional gadget or weapon that does exactly what I need it to. I can rewire circuits with my mind, install a new data port, or convert old comms into something better. I’ve been able to bypass security doors, scramble enemy surveillance, and even hack into systems that people thought were locked down tight—all with a little tech savvy and a lot of improvisation.

"Most of the time, I keep it simple. I’m not trying to reinvent the wheel. But if I need to arm myself, I’ll craft something that can hold up in a fight. Maybe I’ll modify a standard pistol to increase its power output, or rig up an old combat knife with a tiny pulse field around the blade to make it cut through tougher materials. If I have enough time, I can turn a basic grenade into something more tactical, with a delayed detonation or an EMP effect that disables electronics in a radius. You can’t underestimate what you can do with a few pieces of scrap and the right mindset.

"If I need something more specialized—like a shield generator or a cloaking device for a stealth run—I’ll figure out how to make it work. Sure, it’s not gonna be as clean as the factory model, but it’ll work. I can modify and improve things on the fly, mixing tech I’ve never seen before into something usable. It's not magic, but when I'm in the thick of things, it’s like I can tap into that quiet hum and find solutions others wouldn’t even think of.

"I keep it all low-profile. If I’m building something, I don’t go broadcasting it. It’s not like I’ve got a whole lab to work in. Most of my gear’s practical. Just like everything else, it's about making sure I have what I need to get through the day. When things go sideways, and they usually do, I’ve got the skills to adapt on the fly."

Weapons/Items:
"I don’t carry a lot of unnecessary weight. Every piece of gear I’ve got has a purpose, and if it doesn’t, it gets left behind. But I always make sure I’ve got the essentials.

"I’ve got a sidearm on me, usually tucked under my jacket or in a holster on my belt. It’s a compact, no-frills handgun—nothing fancy, just reliable. It’s simple: pull the trigger, and it does the job. Doesn’t jam, doesn’t miss. I keep a couple extra mags on me, too, just in case things go south. I don’t go looking for trouble, but I don’t hesitate when I need to defend myself. It’s not the first option, but it’s always there if I need to make sure a situation doesn’t get out of hand.

"If things get close, I’ve got a combat knife, usually strapped to my thigh. It’s the kind of tool you don’t really think about until you need it—and when you need it, you really need it. The blade’s sharp, practical, and I’m quick with it. Doesn’t matter if it’s a scuffle or a more… personal problem. It gets the job done.

"I also carry a multi-tool. Not the shiny kind you see advertised in catalogs—just a solid, dependable tool. It’s got everything I might need: pliers, a screwdriver, a knife, a wrench. Hell, it’s even got a little mini flashlight built into it. Doesn’t take up much space, and it’s saved my ass more times than I can count. I never know when I might have to patch something up, fix a control panel, or get through a door that’s jammed shut.

"Sometimes, I’ll have a tech kit on me if I think I’m going into a situation where I’ll need to do a little more than just punch in some commands. It’s not much—just a small, portable case with wires, connectors, and a few chips I can use to patch into things. I’ve got a knack for getting past security systems, so I keep a few tools for that. A little wire, some signal scramblers, a couple data spikes, things like that. Nothing too flashy, but it gets me into places I shouldn’t be, or shuts down tech that’s giving me trouble.

"Oh, and I never leave without my comm unit. Simple, rugged. I don’t care about the flashy upgrades or any of that nonsense. Just something that works when I need it to—no dropped signals or dead batteries halfway through a job. I keep it charged, and I don’t let anyone else touch it. It’s not a luxury, it’s a lifeline.

"One thing I’ll always have on me is a good ration pack. Never know when you're going to be stuck somewhere with no access to real food. Some people think I’m paranoid, but I’ve gone hungry enough times in my life to know you can never be too prepared. It’s not gourmet, but it'll keep you from starving when the shit hits the fan.

"And yeah, sometimes I’ll pick up a few extra pieces depending on the job. Could be a fire extinguisher, a couple of grenades, a stun baton, or even a first aid kit if I think I might need to patch up someone else—or myself—quick. But for the most part, I keep it simple. Weapons, tools, tech—whatever I need to survive, or get the job done, that’s what I carry."


Appearance

Image:


Physical Appearance:
"I’m not the kind of guy people forget easily. I’ve got the build for it — thick shoulders, a heavy frame that makes the space around me feel smaller. I don't really stand out in a crowd, but I stand my ground. My face is all sharp angles — jaw strong, cheekbones a little too pronounced, skin like it's been used to the sun and the grind of life for too long. You won't find me looking soft anywhere, and I guess that’s by design. My hair's short, usually a little messy, but I don’t care enough to fix it. It’s just hair. The scars on my face? They’re part of the story. A reminder of things I don’t really want to talk about.

"My eyes? I get asked about those sometimes. People say they look distant. Cold, even. Like I’ve seen things that should’ve been left unseen. Maybe that’s true. But they miss the part of me that still cares. I keep that buried, though. Doesn’t matter much to most people, so I don’t waste the energy on showing it.


"Everything about me, the way I dress, the way I carry myself — it’s all about getting through. Surviving. I don’t waste time on things that don’t matter."




Clothing and Armor:
"Clothes, yeah, I keep it simple. Ain't no point in looking fancy if it won’t keep you alive. I wear a jacket — green, faded, patched up in places — it’s been with me long enough that it feels like part of my skin. The sleeves are rolled up to keep from getting caught on something, and underneath, it’s just a black shirt. Nothing special. Just the kind of thing I can throw on and forget about. The cargo pants are the same deal. Functional. They’ve got enough pockets for what I need. I’m always prepared, even if it’s just for the next fight or the next job that requires me to fix something on the fly. My boots? They’ve seen better days, but they’ll still get me where I need to go. Worn in, scuffed up, but still solid. They don’t quit, and neither do I."


Personality

Sexual Orientation:

General Personality:
"I’m not the kind of guy who’s gonna sugarcoat things. I say what I mean, and if you can’t handle it, that’s your problem, not mine. I don’t have time for small talk or games. Life’s too short for pretending. If I’m here, it’s because I’m needed — not for the fun of it.

"Some people think I’m cold, distant. Maybe I am. You won’t catch me opening up to just anyone. I don’t trust easily, and I’m not a fan of getting too close to people. Doesn’t matter if they’re good, bad, or in-between — people disappoint, and I’ve learned the hard way to keep that distance. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a line I won’t cross for those I care about. It’s just... I’m careful about who gets to see that side. Trust is earned, not given.

"I don’t waste energy on guilt or regret. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but you won’t catch me dwelling on it. You can’t change the past, and it sure as hell won’t do you any good to keep looking back. I do what needs to be done, and I move forward. It’s all about getting through. Surviving. And sometimes, surviving means you make hard choices.

"I’ve been through a lot, seen enough to know that most people don’t know half of what’s out there, the kind of shit that can break you. So I keep a steady hand. I don’t lose my cool. Even when everyone else around me is falling apart, I stay grounded. I can deal with chaos because I’ve learned to make my peace with it.

"I’m not some hero or martyr. I’m not trying to save the world. I’m just a guy who’s good at getting shit done, no matter what it takes. I’m loyal to the ones I trust, but I won’t waste loyalty on the wrong people. If you’re in my circle, I’ll protect you, but I won’t go down for anyone unless they’ve earned that right.

"I don’t smile much. Never really needed to. But when I do, it’s genuine. Don’t ask for one, though. It’s not a thing you should expect from me."

Face/Voice:
Wes Chatham


Anything Else
"God knows there's plenty more, but you ain't gettin shit outta me."


Character's History

Siblings:
"If I had siblings, they were smart to stay away from me."

Mother:
"I grew up with a woman, but I don't think she is my mother. Probably for the best."

Father:
"Not the only kid in Boston with a deadbeat. Won't be the last."

Other Family:
"No one worth mentioning. Family is a weird thing, I think. Never felt that connection. Dunno what its like."

History:




"I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth. Hell, I wasn’t born anywhere near silver. Grew up bouncing around, mostly in places no one should have to live. My old man? Never knew him. My mom was… well, she was around, but not in the way that counts. I dunno if she even is my mom. She wasn’t exactly the mother-of-the-year type, regardless. Most of the time, it was just me and whoever the hell else was in the neighborhood. So yeah, I learned early on that the world’s not fair, and no one’s gonna hand you anything. You make your own luck, or you get stepped on.

"I spent most of my childhood running from one messed-up situation to another. Found myself in a few foster homes, but they were as screwed up as the places I ran from. Some good people, some bad — but mostly just people trying to get by, and none of them really knowing how to raise a kid. Took what I could from each one and kept moving. It’s like... survival instinct, you know? You keep your head down, stay out of trouble, and never let anyone know what’s really going on inside your head.

"Eventually, I found myself on the streets, which... honestly, felt like home. I started doing odd jobs for people—smuggling, hacking, anything that paid. Nothing too dirty at first, just small-time stuff. It wasn’t glamorous, but it kept the lights on. I got good at reading people, figuring out who could be trusted and who’d stab you in the back the moment you weren’t looking. And I got good at talking my way out of tight spots.

"I learned how to handle a gun pretty early on. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. I didn’t need to be the toughest guy in the room, but I did need to make sure I was tough enough that people wouldn’t think twice about crossing me. And sometimes, people needed to know you weren’t afraid to use the things you had to stay alive.

"But even when I was scraping by, there was always this itch, you know? Something bigger than just surviving from day to day. I wanted more than this. Not that I knew what more meant, exactly, but I knew there was something out there for me. Maybe it was adventure, maybe it was the promise of something better than the life I was living. Whatever it was, it didn’t take long before I found myself caught up with the wrong crowd.

"It wasn’t long before I ran into someone who had a bit more to offer than just the usual jobs. They didn’t exactly recruit me, but they didn’t have to. I was looking for a way out, and they were offering me a way up. Not the kind of group you’d want to hang around with if you had options, but I didn’t. So I learned the ropes. I picked up some bad habits, sure, but also a lot of skills. Took on bigger jobs, bigger risks. Smuggling tech, stealing prototypes, hacking into systems you’d never think anyone could get into.

"The thing about that life is, it doesn’t come without consequences. The more you climb, the harder you fall. One wrong move, and you’re the one being hunted. I got burned a couple of times—people I thought I could trust turning on me, the authorities closing in, the usual crap. At some point, I ended up with a bounty on my head, and suddenly I wasn’t just fighting to survive—I was fighting to get away.

"That’s when the technopathy kicked in, though. It wasn’t something I expected. One day I was in the middle of a firefight, trying to hack into a security system to get out of a jam, and I just… felt it. Felt the tech, the wiring, the signals. Everything around me. It was like my mind connected with the machines, and suddenly, I was the one calling the shots. I could short-circuit alarms, mess with security grids, even rewire an old drone to fly in the opposite direction so I could make my escape. It was like a damn superpower, but I couldn’t stop it once it kicked in. Took me a while to get used to it, but once I did, I knew it was the edge I needed to get ahead. It is what got me on a ship, a hum calling me like a siren. I never looked back at Earth. 

"Well, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I wasn’t supposed to end up in space, especially not on the wrong ship, in the middle of nowhere, with no idea where I was going or how to get back. But sometimes, life’s just one big cosmic joke, and I’m the punchline.

"So here’s the thing: I had a plan, right? The plan was simple. I was gonna get on a transport shuttle, head to a station, deliver a few illicit tech items, and maybe pocket a little extra cash on the side. Nothing major. Easy money. And I was doing just fine until—well, until I wasn’t. See, I wasn’t the one who thought it’d be a good idea to get into a shootout with a bunch of corporate goons while sneaking around the underbelly of a space station. But when they came after me, I figured I’d do what I do best—run.

"There I am, bolting through the station, dodging bullets, making sure nobody was getting too close to the things I’d swiped, and then—I found myself at the hangar. The only ship that wasn’t locked down or surrounded by armed guards was this beat-up, rusted-out piece of junk. Looked like it was held together by duct tape, prayers, and a lot of stubbornness. I didn’t even care. In fact, I probably should’ve cared more, but I was already being chased, so I climbed up the ladder, kicked open the hatch, and jumped in.

"There was no one inside. Just the faint hum of old systems and the smell of stale coffee. And the ship was still on—which meant, it was either abandoned or someone was in the middle of taking a very long nap. I didn’t exactly have time to find out, so I pulled a few wires, hit a few buttons, and—bam, we were off. No clear course, no route, but hey, I knew how to hotwire a few things, and the controls weren’t that different from the stuff I’d worked with back on station.

"The ship lurched to life, and I thought I was golden. I was cruising—well, more like drifting—through the void, with no real destination, and a growing sense of dread creeping in. Turns out, this wasn’t a standard commercial shuttle. No, it was a low-rent, freelance cargo ship—hauling people, of all things. And not the type of people you’d want to run into in a dark alley, if you know what I mean.

"Not long after I set the ship on course, some very large, very unhappy people showed up. Turns out, I’d hijacked a bounty hunter’s transport ship, and they were not thrilled to see me behind the controls. One minute, I’m trying to figure out the navigation, and the next, I’ve got a few dozen angry bounty hunters on my tail, ready to make my life even worse. So, there I am, floating through space, trying to not get shot by bounty hunters, and suddenly, the tech I’d been fiddling with kicks in.

"I’m sitting there, half-panicking, half-amused by the situation when I feel it—the hum. That same weird sensation I get when I touch a machine and things just start to... click. The ship, that piece of junk, responds. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I was in the system. I could feel the controls, feel the engines, and without thinking, I pushed it into a maneuver that no sane person would’ve tried. I cut the power, flipped some switches, and boom—we disappeared. Jumped into slipspace, or whatever they call it, at a speed that felt like I was being dragged through a metal straw.

"And when we came out of it? We weren’t anywhere close to where we started. In fact, I didn’t even know what solar system I was in. There were ships everywhere. Massive, sleek things. Space stations the size of moons. And I’m sitting there in this ship, wondering how in the hell I got here, when I realized… I was in the middle of a galactic war zone.

"I still don’t know how I made it. Or what I did to that ship. I think I fried half the systems in the process, but somehow, I was alive. And now I’m stuck, somewhere in the middle of some interstellar conflict I didn’t sign up for. With bounty hunters still trying to track me down, a ship that barely works, and a whole lot of nothing to figure out.

"So, yeah, hitchhiking into space wasn’t exactly my idea. But I’ve learned that, when you’re running from the past and looking for something better, the universe has a funny way of throwing you exactly what you don’t want and somehow making it work. Now I’ve got a whole new set of problems, and I’m still trying to figure out where the hell to go. But one thing’s for sure: I’m never going back to the station. Space is a whole new ballgame, and I’m gonna make it work—one way or another.

"Years pass, and I still get into trouble, but it’s more fun than anything. I’ve got a reputation, a name for myself. People got to know me as a guy who gets things done—fast, clean, and without all the unnecessary bullshit. I’ve worked for some shady folks, made some bad choices, but I’m still here. I’ve learned the hard way how to survive, and sometimes, that means doing things I’m not proud of. But I never forget that part of me that’s still looking for something more than just surviving. Maybe that’s why I can’t leave the past behind. I’m always looking for the next thing, the next score, the next adventure. Hell, if it weren’t for the constant chaos I seem to attract, I’d probably get bored.

"Yeah, I’ve got scars—physical, mental, you name it. But they’re just reminders that I’m still standing. I’ve been through more than I care to remember, and that’s what’s kept me alive. Doesn’t matter what’s thrown my way, I always come out the other side. And if I’ve learned anything along the way, it’s that the only person you can rely on is yourself. Everyone else? They’re just along for the ride. I’m the one driving.

"That changed, though... when I met him.

"It was on a day like any other, which is to say, it wasn’t a day at all. Just another stretch of void, another rock to scavenge, another batch of cargo to haul. I was still running from that bounty I’d picked up a while back, and when you’re running, you’re not exactly looking for anything—especially not something good. So when I stumbled across him, I wasn’t expecting much. Hell, I wasn’t expecting anything. Just trying to stay one step ahead of the chaos, like always.

"I was on the outer rim, my ship barely holding together after that last jump, when I saw something that didn’t make sense. A figure, drifting in space, just floating there. Not dead, not a corpse, just... there. And if you’ve spent any amount of time in the vacuum of space, you know that seeing a person just out there is not normal. People don’t just float around without a damn good reason.

"I didn’t know what I was looking at, but I didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out. My first instinct? Get the hell out of there. You don’t take chances in the void. You survive. But something tugged at me. A feeling. Almost like a pull in my gut. So I veered the ship closer, my fingers already twitching, ready to fly off at a moment’s notice.

"That’s when I saw his face. And then, I really didn’t know what to do.

"He wasn’t like anyone I’d ever seen. Not in the way he looked—though, yeah, he was glowing like some kind of cosmic angel, light spilling out from every part of him, like he was made of stardust or something. No, it was the way he felt. There was a warmth to him, a kind of peace that radiated outward. And I’ll be honest: it freaked me the hell out. I’ve been in too many fights, too many scraps, and seen too much darkness to trust anything that shines that bright.

"But I didn’t have time to back off. Before I could even process what was happening, he... reached for me. Not with his hands, but with something deeper. Like he was pulling on a thread in my chest. I don’t know how to explain it. It was like he knew me, like he could feel everything I was—everything I was trying to hide.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” this guy said to me, and it was the way he said it—like he meant it. Like he believed it. His voice was soft, but there was a strength there, too. A strength that made my throat tighten, because I wasn’t used to hearing something like that. Not from anyone.

"I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust anyone, honestly. But I wasn’t about to leave him floating out there alone, either. Something in me made me pull my ship close, crack open the airlock, and drag him in. And as soon as I did, that’s when it started.

"He was hurt. Badly. I could see it in his eyes, the way his movements were stiff. His suit was torn in places, the light flickering around him like he was about to burn out. I didn’t know how, or why, but I knew he needed help. So I did what I could—patched him up, got him a med-pack, the usual stuff. But I swear to you, as soon as I got close to him, the air felt different. Almost like it was alive, like the ship’s lights were a little brighter, like the whole damn place was breathing with him.

"He smiled, and I couldn’t help but feel like he saw me—like he understood something I didn’t even know was there.

"“You’re hurt, too,” he had said, and I had to chuckle, because, well, that was just him, wasn’t it? I didn't understand it then, but I do now. “I’ll fix that.”

"I’m not talking about a bandage or a shot of something to numb the pain. I mean, he healed me. It was... weird, like he was channeling something through me, something pure, something I didn’t deserve. Pain I didn’t even know I was carrying just vanished. My body felt lighter. Stronger. And for a second, I almost forgot who I was—forgot what I’d been through, how much I’d fought just to stay alive.

"I tried to push him away. I didn’t need anyone’s help. I didn’t need anyone.

"But he didn’t back off. He just smiled again, that same damn gentle smile, and it felt like the whole universe was a little bit brighter because of it.

"“I’m Helios,” he said, like he was introducing himself to a friend. And I guess, in some way, he was. “I’m here to help you. To help everyone.”

"That’s when I knew—there was no going back. Helios wasn’t just some random stranger. He was something... other. I could feel it, deep down. There was a purpose in him, a kind of unwavering hope that made everything else feel small. And, maybe for the first time in my life, I wanted to believe in something bigger than just survival.

"I didn’t know what the hell a Blue Lantern was at the time, but I sure as hell knew what hope felt like. And it didn’t scare me. Not like everything else did.

"I don’t know why he stuck by me. I can’t say I’m the kind of guy who deserves something like that. Hell, I’m still not sure what he sees in me. But he did. He’s been by my side ever since. He doesn’t ask for anything in return—except maybe for me to try and be a little better. He believes in me, even when I can’t believe in myself.

"Sometimes, I think I’m the last person who should be hanging out with someone like him. I’m cynical, I’ve done things I’m not proud of, and I don’t exactly have the best track record with, you know, trusting people. But Helios? He’s... different. When things are dark, and I’m ready to give up, he’s there, always. He reminds me that there’s more to life than just getting through the next day. He reminds me that there’s still light out there, even if it’s hard to see. And when the shit hits the fan, he’s right there beside me, fighting for the same damn thing—hope.

"Maybe I don’t fully understand it. Maybe I never will. But... he’s not just some guy I met. He’s my anchor. And when the universe feels like it’s falling apart, he’s the reason I keep fighting. For him. For the people he’s trying to save. For the hope he brings, even when it’s the hardest thing to hold onto.

"So yeah, we’ve been together ever since. Don’t know where we’re headed, but I’m sure as hell not going anywhere without him.


Role Play Sample:

"You got enough from me."