I'm just not looking for another high activity discord right now, I have enough.
So I've mentioned before that I've been working to replace Surge as an in-universe character for my worldbuilding. Here's a short thingy with his replacement.
“What have you done!”
BANG
Dalen shot up from his bed, his hand instantly shooting to his right arm in panic. As he grabbed hold of it he found only cold metal, and it took his sleep addled brain a moment to process how alien this sensation was. Holding the offending limb in front of him it was a very nice cybernetic, and as his brain came to he recalled the bloody ribbons of bone and sinew that his arm had been when last he was lucid.
“Right...the uhh..the shotgun, the hostage...” he muttered to himself
He also recalled something being wrong with one of his eyes, but he seemed to be able to see just fine. Removing the covers from himself and swinging his legs out he stood up, looking around the room. This was not the bedroom he was accustomed to, clean metal paneling with sliding autodoors, unfortunately although he didn’t know where he was, he knew exactly why he was here, he had a debt to pay now. Before his mind could wander too far Dalen’s attention was drawn to an open door leading into a utilitarian bathroom, he wanted to examine himself and a mirror would help, so he stepped in and braced himself for the worst.
The fact that his shirt was missing made the damage control fairly simple, though where he expected to see stitches he saw nothing, how long had he been out that they patched him up that well? If not for the metal arm and the distinctive iris of a prosthetic eye on the right side of his face he looked spotless...the old blood stains on his pants probably also worked against him as he now took note of them though.
Dalen took a good look at himself in the mirror, not just his body, at him, it had been so long since he had taken a good look at himself like this. The last time was probably when he still worked at Tarsun, and the man staring back at him now was starkly different from the eager young engineer he had been a few years ago, he barely recognized himself now.
“What happened to me…” he said aloud
“Oh right, I got labeled a terrorist…”
Maybe it was time for Dalen to die, Dalen was a broken man, held accountable for horrible things he hadn’t done, and guilty of more horrible things that he had done. He couldn’t escape this lifestyle that had been forced on him, but he could put who he used to be behind him, start anew.
“...Karse” he said to the mirror
That is who he would be, not Dalen Sertun the “terrorist”, he would be Karse the arms dealer, scarcely a better lifestyle choice, but he had to make the most of what life had given him. Karse corrected his posture, tried to look confident, ready for what lies ahead, and before this facade could fall apart in front of him he walked back into the bedroom to find some clothes. Stepping back into the bedroom, he noted that one of the two doors looked much sturdier than the other, more like an airlock, rather than question this he assumed he didn’t want to open it and instead opened the second door, finding a closet with a single jumpsuit in it, there was a note attached to the front.
Will have to expand selection on your own
-Patch
Karse didn’t know who “Patch” was but he suspected he would learn soon, tossing the note aside he took off his tattered pants and slipped on the jumpsuit, it fit nicely, was utilitarian, not a bad thing to be stuck wearing, as he zipped it up he noticed a crate at the foot of his bed he hadn’t seen earlier. Walking over and removing the cover, it was filled with battered and crude metal plates, the makeshift armor he had worn that night, little more than scrap metal vaguely shaped and strapped on over his clothes, it hadn’t protected him much at all. He pulled out the mangled upper half of a plate that had no doubt gone on his right arm, looking between the metal hand holding it and the warped plate, he made another decision.
“If I’m going to have to rely on myself, I may as well learn to make my own armor…” he said aloud, throwing the torn plate back in the box and standing up.
His name was Karse now, he was a skilled gunsmith and, soon, armorsmith. He had seen firsthand how uncaring this galaxy could be, several times, but he was going to persevere. So he turned to face what could only be the exit, and confidently walked towards it, ready to face whatever new reality awaited him on the other side.
Maybe, someday, he would even get revenge for everything he has been put through.