Glass walls. Hazy blue soup. That’s my first memory — a silhouette drifting in a tank, cheap infantry. Rabbit’s abandoned project after Fetal’s fate — scrapped on ROIR. The Sisters didn’t take me in. Mutant, they whispered. Capsuleer-tainted blood. They saw what I wasn’t.
Copying me was easy. No genius cortex here. I open a skillbook, and it just… hisses static. Blank eyes, blank brain. Some dumb Alpha bun.
Food Relief paid in protein paste and dead friends. Out here a life’s worth less than a crate of ammo. Half if you’re me. I bleed first ‘cause hey, I’m the respawn bunny. Lucky me. Lucky them.
Then a Guristas (Gui) spy bled Ishukone's secrets into my hands. Inside: trade routes carved to choke systems, labor quotas tied to oxygen rations, entire colonies reduced to ledger entries. And capsuleers — demigods in hull and steel — laughing over drinks in Jita.
Capsuleers… They defile our defile our dens, and slaughter Food Relief’s convoys. They’ve all gutted what was left of their humanity and sold it for hull and steel.
I was pushed to the Point of No Return, Zarzakh, flying under the Deathless banner – not for profit, not for glory. For revenge. For the voiceless.