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Tristan Bellum

"Cavalry's here.....*Exhales Smoke*."

0 · 692 views · located in Rune

a character in “Variant”, as played by PersonaU

Description

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Tristan means "The clashing of swords"/Bellum means "War God"
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Image[ Name ]
Tristan Bellum

[ Nicknames/Aliases ]
Third
War God
The Cavalry

[ Age ]
25

[ Gender ]
Male

[ ID Number ]
#00003

[ Occupation ]
Owns a popular Nightclub named "3rds' Street". Though mostly rich kids from the Upper Ring attend, its located in the Lower Ring.

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Reflected Image
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Image[ Hair Color ]
Original hair color was brown, but dyed it blonde after the war

[ Eye Color ]
Gold

[ Skin Tone ]
Light Peach

[ Height ]
6'6"

[ Weight ]
220lbs.

[ General Description ]
Tristan is a man of large stature. Standing at an imposing 6'6" and weighing in at 220lbs., he is not a man most want to tangle with upon first seeing him. Tristan is never without his styled sunglasses. Throughout the entire war, Tristan had to keep switching between shitty pairs of sunglasses. He swore if this never ended, he would get a good pair that was expensive and that he could wear all the time. He got his wish. Tristan always dresses very formally, usually in the attire o a bartender. He always wears the same outfit. He wishes to be buried in this outfit. He always wanted to wear stuff like that, and he is going to stick by it. Now matter how many outfits he destroys, he'll just keep fixing them. His blonde hair is never really styled in any sort of way, he doesn't really pay much attention to it.

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Inner Soul
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Image[ Likes ]
Cigarettes || they calm him down
White Noise || be it music, cars or just people talking, Tristan can't stand the quiet
Fighting || as much as he hates to admit it, Tristan misses the War

[ Dislikes ]
xQuiet || When its quiet, bad things are bound to happen.
xBullies || He can't tolerate them for even a quarter of a second
xBraggarts || people who brag about anything whatsoever, it just pisses him off for some reason.

[ Weaknesses ]
Light Sensitivity || for some reason, Tristans eyes are really sensitive in light, without his sunglasses, hes practically blind.
Friends || He ain't got many of them, but he'd destroy the city for them.
Collateral Damage || Tristan has this tendency to get carried away in a fight and a lot of property ends up destroyed

[ Abilities/Skills ]
War God's Veil || Tristan has one single ability, though it is all he needs. Aura is an energy that exists in all living beings. It escapes from our bodies unknown to us. Tristan's ability is that he coats himself in a visible veil of white energy, that traps his aura inside him. This grants him superhuman strength and speed, the veil itself acts like a shield, protecting him from bullets and most direct hits. He has several techniques with this ability. He can focus all of his aura into his left fist, the damage it does is catastrophic. He calls it his "War God's Fist". He can even project his Aura, though once it leaves his body, he has to gather it back up. He can even speed up his bodily processes and can increase his healing, not wolverine status but much faster than a normal person. Like a broken arm that should take 5 months to heal would heal in one.
Hand to Hand Combat || As his ability makes him incredibly durable and strong, he is only hand to whatever it is his enemy is using.
No Fear || I almost put this in weaknesses, but it is a huge part of his character. He doesn't believe in the no win scenario and will head into any situation if the reason is right, without hesitation.

[ Personality ]
To those that know Tristan well,he can be at the same time, one of the most wise and one of the most dumb people around. He seems rather wise beyond his years and seems to have found what makes him happy and encourages people to do what makes them happy. He can have sage advice and can be one of your strongest pillars of support.....in more ways than one. At the same time, he's honestly terrible with dealing with people. He gets annoyed by petty problems way too often and sometimes reacts violently when he shouldn't.

Being bread as the perfect war machine, he is rather violent. He can be irritated by the smallest things, such as a guy not apologizing for being late with one of his shipments and it can often lead to violence. Yet on the same day, he can say the perfect thing you needed to hear that day when you were dealing with something you thought you wouldn't get over. It's almost like, to a certain degree, he cant take his own advice. It seems he can be happy easy enough, but he can fluctuate to pissed pretty quick. Though, the true reason Tristan gets so flustered with people is that he's pissed that he has to deal with this petty bullshit when his entire life was about war and protecting the freedom of billions of people. Its not the actual acts that annoy him, its the fact that he as to deal with them after everything he's been through.

At the end of the day though, there isn't anyone you would rather have at your back in any situation, than Tristan. And....there is no place he would rather be.

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Memoirs
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Image[ History ]
Tristan was the first "Perfect" Variant in a long line of them. They simply wanted him to be the human definition of an atom bomb. They wanted to see the looks on the Korean pilots faces when a lone man was ripping apart their Mechs. Tristan didn't care much about that. When he was fully conscious of his sentience, he fully complied with them. He always seemed sort of sleepy and just did what he was told. He trained hard and took each test they gave him with a good attitude and never spoke up or complained about anything. He progresses through their time table perfectly. They couldn't ask for a better soldier.

12 years old, shipped out to full on combat deep in Nova. He remembered the dry desert heat. The long flat land with nothing but horizon to see. Pure open skies. He felt like he was coming home. Everyone of his men talked about how horrible it was, but he had no idea what they were talking about. He loved it. Due to his ability, he was highly adaptable so he was never really uncomfortable. At first, it was all about the mission. Make the scientists proud. Don't let their efforts be in vain. A lot of his men were hesitant about following orders from a super kid. After all, he was one of the first ones out. He was a bit draconian back then and would physically punish his men. His mission success rate for 2 years straight was 100% all across the board.

In that third year, however, something Tristan changed. He matured and started to see the soldiers for what they were, people. He started delaying missions for injuries. He started ignoring time codes to help his men along. He stopped physically disciplining them and started actually disciplining them. He started to talk to them more and take on some of their personality traits. He would joke with them and eat with them and play card games with them. He stopped accepting casualties in his squad. He started to treat his men like family. Everyone called him "War God", because watching him take on huge amounts of enemies head on with nothing but a grin on was like watching Ares himself take the field. The casualties in his squad almost disappeared....but the mission success rate dropped. Many of his observers understood this as enemy casualties went up, and called it a net zero.

Others however said he needed a readjustment. Territory was starting to become more important than ever and they wanted him back on track. They gave him a year to make up the lost 32%. When he received the orders, he almost just beat the messenger down right there, but he managed to stop himself. He essentially flipped command the bird, and kept on doing what he did. The year passed, and he only went up 4%. As he was sort of one of their poster boys for the war and his cooperation was key to the continuance of the Variant project, they reassigned him.

In his 4th year of war, a new division was made with him in command. They told him it was a promotion, but he knew what it was. Something to keep him from fucking everything up. However, the division only had to do with getting soldiers out of danger zones alive. So...he got to keep doing what he loved to do, keep soldiers alive, and command got no complaints. Tristan was OK with the arrangement, though a little resentful at the fact that they had bullied him into the position. It was here where he go the nickname "The Cavalry". Because, when everything was looking bleak and it looked like all was lost, a carrier jet would fly over the battlefield and a small dot would drop from it, crash landing into the middle of the enemy forces. With a loud explosion signaling the call, Tristan would be there amidst the smoke, creating a distraction so everyone could get out OK. The craziest thing of all....he would be smiling.

When the War finally ended, he had been to every single war zone and met hundreds of Variants just like him. He was given the OK and was put back into society. He worked in private security for at time....but ended up beating up one client too many. He decided that he would do what one of his friends in Nova always talked about. Running a Nightclub. The idea was to have a ritzy Nightclub that all the 1% would attend, but have it located in the Lower Ring, to raise money for public works in the city. His name was Teddy Prokop. Tristan found him in Rune and they started up their business. Since all the money was Tristan, he is the official owner. Though Teddy is the manager of the Club. They called it "3rds Street" As thats what all the men in Tristan's unit called their barracks. It is incredibly successful and one of the hottest Nightclubs in all of Rune. Even though he has everything he could ever want.....Tristan still is missing something. The War.

[ Others ]
-3rds Street is a 3 tier Nightclub. With the main dance floor on the 1st floor with rotating holographic and mirrored glass reflecting filtered light al throughout. A large bar is set up with a large pillar inside it that links a circular staircase to every level of the club. This si the employee stairway. Main stairways for customers are located in normal places. Their is also a stage where live bands perform on certain nights.
-The 2nd floor consists of a slight calmer atmosphere with lost of wood and red colors with a more classic bar and lots of private booths with tinted glass for true privacy.
-The 3rd floor is the VIP are with a glass pyramid in the center that has full view of the first floor dance floor and stage with several booths and personal waiters to attend the clientele.
-Tristan is known by local gangs because he keeps refusing to pay them protection. They've tried a lot of stuff, but none have ever succeeded on harming Tristan's club. Though, he hasn't killed any of them......yet.
-Tristan is currently in a romantic relationship with his old war buddy and fellow Variant, Neptune Taylor.
-Tristans Bartender outfit and sunglasses were gifts from Neptune and he treats them like Holy artifacts of a church.

So begins...

Tristan Bellum's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Neptune Taylor Character Portrait: Christopher King Character Portrait: Tristan Bellum
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The world is a cruel place, but it is also very beautiful.

As Neptune watched the sunset on her last patrol of the day she made a wish; that soon she would be able to get out of this awful job and work with her friends in the Lower Ring. Was it selfish to complain about having to work in the Upper Ring while other Variants were homeless or being put down? Most likely, however, the woman she worked for owned her and it wasn't exactly an easy thing to simply quit her position; especially because she worked for her creator. A woman that went by the name of Inori Trask; she not only had a bottle of the euthanasia serum labeled with Neptune's ID number, but she promised that as long as Neptune continued working for her, no harm would come to her sister; Athena.

The only way out of this unwilling labor was if Trask died, but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon as the young scientist was as spirited as ever. Neptune sighed as her watch beeped, signaling the end of the days shift and began heading towards her room on the eighth floor. After she showered and changed the female would go visit her boyfriend in the Lower Ring, Tristan Bellum. Neptune stripped herself of her tight jumpsuit, leaving her gear on the dresser and turning the water on full blast. She washed away the day's dirt and grime quickly, scrubbing herself down in an effort to look clean.

No makeup, Neptune never wore makeup as she believed that it was something only a whore needed. The female rifled through her drawers, picking through her belongings in an attempt to find clothes that weren't wrinkled or needed to be washed; she really should consider buying a laundry basket. Neptune finally decided on a silk purple button down and a black skater cut skirt that she tucked the shirt into. She danced around the room trying to squeeze her long legs into her only pair of black tights and for finishing touches grabbed her heels, peep toes with with little black bows.

It was funny how she hated boys and didn't mind Tristan, in fact, Neptune rather liked dressing up for him. The thought of how she could wear revealing clothing and he would not only make eye contact, but never cared about what she looked like excited her. Was it stupid? Probably, but to each his own.

It was seven o'clock when Neptune opened her window and climbed onto the edge, activating her Variation. Her wings spiraled out of her back and turned into what looked like crystal butterfly pinions. She pushed off the ledge and headed towards the Skybridge, watching as the rich pedestrians below went about their ugly lives. Within fifteen minutes Neptune was in the Lower Ring and on her way to Third Tier. It wasn't a far walk from the Bridge to the club, the problem was that the route was through one of the worst sectors; thankfully, however Neptune gave off a vibe that kept the bums at bay; other Variant weren't always so lucky though. She had heard of females being kidnapped and violated, males taken and exploited for their bodies.

"Almost there," she mumbled, turning the corner when a hand suddenly grabbed her shoulder and snapped her around. Instantly Neptune was in fight mode, but it was just a bum panning for money. Neptune shrugged and reached into her purse, but as she did so he attempted to snatch it from her. Instantly her fist went up and smashed the guy right in the face, two yellow and brown teeth flying from his disgusting mouth and landing on the ground. Before the bum could react Neptune kicked him in the side; she would have done much worse but someone grabbed her from behind to stop her.

"I'll take it from here," it was a gentle voice, a calming presence. Slowly she came off of the high that came with fighting and straightened herself. Neptune picked up the small wrapped box that had fallen from her bag when the bum had grabbed it and stuffed it back inside. She turned to see Chris, one of the police officers that had taken a government provided job. He was handcuffing the hobo, calling for a car to take the guy in. "Thanks," Neptune mumbled awkwardly and continued on her way.

She entered the bar/club and looked around for Tristan who was behind the bar. It wasn't so busy now, but Neptune knew that later this place would be packed. "I got you something," she said, sitting on one of the bar stools and pulling out the little wrapped package. It was a new bow tie since his was a bit worn at the edges and threads were beginning to come loose.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Neptune Taylor Character Portrait: Tristan Bellum
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”What is it, Ted? Im busy.”

The War God, Tristan Bellum, was sitting reclined in his black leather office chair. He had just gotten off the phone with Sterling Industries, a glassware producer. He had called them to know why his shipment of Se Quois Shooters was replaced with boxes of Champagne Flutes. The woman on the phone had been insisting that it was most likely a shipping error, even though not 2 minutes prior, shipping had claimed the exact reverse. They had been jumping him around their offices like a game of take no blame hot potato. They had been giving him the run around and Tristan was just done with it. He would have addressed his oldest friend more politely, but common courtesy was not at the top of his mind.

”Sorry to bug you, Tristan, but....we sort have a problem.”

Teddy Prokop entered the unlit room, a lit cigarette hung from his left hand. His brown eyes shone unsteady from behind his glasses. His brown hair was styled in dreadlocks, which rather clashed with his trendy silver suit.

”Whaddya mean sort of? Do we have a problem or don’t we, Ted?” Tristan said, his eyes focusing on Teddy behind his designer shades.

Teddy took a drag on his cigarette after he reached the desk. Tristan merely raised an eyebrow in anticipation. Teddy released the smoke and spoke.

”It’s about Sector Seven.....they’ve canceled.”

”WHAT!?” Tristan kipped up from his reclined position, his office chair went flying straight back into the wall, shattering. What do you mean, CANCELED!!?? I booked them MONTHS in advanced!!! How do they have the BALLS to cancel on ME!!??

Teddy hardly flinched as Tristan’s hands slammed into the prometheum steel desk, denting it in several inches. ”Apparently their bassist injured his hand at some party earlier this evening and they want him to rest it before they go on tour. But, it’s okay, nobody knew they were coming tonight. It’s Mystery Guest night. It’s not like we’re letting anybody down.” Teddy said, trying to calm down his friend and colleague.

”I KNOW, TED! People are still expecting SOMEONE!! And I can’t think of ANY performer in town who would come down to the Lower Ring with no warning, in THREE HOURS!!!!!!!” Tristan yelled, pushing past Teddy out of his office.

Tristan threw open the door to his office so hard, the door knob became embedded into the wall. Trstan began to descend the circular stairs to the first floor. Teddy was jsut behind him. It sounded like he was trying to reassure him or something, but Tristan wasn’t paying attention.

First some lazy pricks at a terminal put a zero in a wrong place, making him play phone tag for an hour with the least responsible people in the city. Then, some prick musician sprains his hand spanking groupie asses, and his whole Club’s reputation is on the line. What made him angrier than any of these things was.......that this is what he had to get angry at.

There was once a time that the source of his anger was the sight of the mangled corpses of his comrades. He used to get pissed at the thought of not getting to drop point in time to get his soldiers out. The only people that earned his rage were those that regretted killing an enemy soldier, because that meant that that man died for nothing. Everyone’s death has a meaning, and he would wish a meaningless death on no one, even a Korean Mech Pilot. Once, his biggest problems was, Will I get to see her one last time? Now only this stupid bullshit was there for his ire.

People tell him that he should feel blessed that those are his biggest problems, but then Tristan gets angry and hits those people.

Tristan eventually made it down to the first floor bar and began to mix himself a drink.

”I got you something.”

Tristan’s head slowly raised from behind the bar. He saw a small wrapped package in front of him. It was in a beautiful hand, connected to a pale slender arm, which belonged to...”Neppy...”. His gold eyes stared at her from behind his tinted glasses. Those eyes. Those absolutely breathtaking eyes. It was the first thing he noticed about her. It was not the color that he found beautiful. Nor their shine. But it’s whats behind the eyes. The person that shone through those immaculate portals.

Tristan eventually took full notice of her package and he took it from her. He slowly opened the package and stared at it’s contents. It was a pristine bow tie. He gently took it out and began undo his own bow tie, only now noticing how frayed it was. The War God then slowly and diligently put on his brand new bow tie. He turned and stared at himself in the mirror. A small smile began to slowly creep up his face.

Tristan turned around and looked at Neptune. He then slowly lowered himself down to her height and planted a kis on her lips. It wasn’t fervent or sexual. But it was deep and it was real. When he finished, he rested his forehead against hers, keeping his eyes closed

”Thank you.”

It was then that Teddy came arrived from the stairs. ”Tristan, you can’t just storm off from this problem. Getting angry about it won’t help. We need a musical act and we need it soon. What are you....oh...hi, uh, Neptune.” Teddy finished awkwardly, just realizing he was interrupting a private moment.

Tristan sighed heavily and pulled himself away from Neptune. ”Thanks a lot, Ted. I know. I’ll think of something.” He turned back to Neptune, giving her a genuine smile of apology.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Neptune Taylor Character Portrait: Christopher King Character Portrait: Tristan Bellum Character Portrait: Enid Tsianina
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A bad dream, that's what it felt like. Except.... It wasn't. Every night Christopher relived the same horrors, the blood on his hands, his dead comrades; he could hardly put the gun in his belt without a flashback of a face that no longer walked the earth. The cooling period is what his creator, Jim Parsons, had called it. The worst was over, but now he had to endure what was leftover in his brain.

There was a tear in his government issued police uniform. He frowned, examining the hole that had been caused by the graze of a bullet. The wound had already healed, one of the advantages of being a Variant, but the capabilities of his body could not fix thread and there was only one person Christopher knew that could use a thread and needle. Up to the Middle Ring he would have to go, it seemed.

He stopped by his house first in order to grab some money and an instant soup to compensate for the lunch he had missed. After putting in the hot water and pocketing the cash, Chris left and locked the door; heading towards the Middle Ring skybridge. Chris had been to all three of the rings, but out of them all he enjoyed the Middle one the most. It was where all of the farming was done and the trains took you past beautiful pastures and picturesque crystal lakes before you reached the inner city.

Chris stepped off of the platform, breathing in the fresh air; it wasn't anything like the freshly pumped oxygen in the Upper Ring, but it was better then the smell of sewage and piss that lingered around every corner in the bottom. A sigh escaped the male's lips as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his red leather jacket, he had changed out of the police uniform and was carrying it in a small sports sack that was slung over his shoulder. Christopher was halfway to his destination when his phone went off, tiny vibrations running up and down his arm. In annoyance the boy whirled around to find a piece of glass. He pressed his palm against a shop window and waited for the image to transfer. "What do you want?" The officer asked while running a hand through his hair, it was one of his seniors, a cop that claimed he had seen everything and yet did nothing. "A is off tonight, I need you to fill in."

"Can't, I'm busy." The old man gave him a glare that could wither the toughest of gangsters. Chris's expression remained placid, bored even. "Come on King, it's not like you've got anything else going on." He shrugged and pulled at his shoulder, the one that was not connected to the shop front. "I told you, I've got stuff to take care of. See if Sin or Wilson are up to it." With that Chris ended the call and continued on his way to Enid's home/shop. He knocked on the door twice before seeing the closed sign and wondered if she had run out. Chris could wait here for her to get back if she was in fact gone, but he didn't want to seem like some sort of stalker.

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"Neppy,"

Neptune's smile grew when he said her name. She loved the way his mouth quirked up in a dance at the edges then slowly spread to the middle; she was also glad he liked the new bow tie and reciprocated the kiss with just as much passion. There was never lust or need in Tristan's kisses, just an intense fiery feeling that Neptune couldn't quite capture with words. She remembered when there was a time every morning Neptune would wake up unknowing as to whether their lips would brush again and all that cheesy romantic stuff people thought of when they were in a relationship in the middle of a war.

"Thank you," his words were like little fireworks in her ears, dazzling and powerful.

"Don't thank me, that's what couples do. Right?" She wasn't really sure if that was true or not, but one of her comrades had always received little presents from his girlfriend when they were in Polaris. "Tristan, you can’t just storm off from this problem; getting angry about it won’t help. We need a musical act and we need it soon. What are you....oh...hi, uh, Neptune."

Neptune gave Ted a short wave, her curiosity besting her, she swiveled around on the bar stool to face the golden eyed man. Tristan was always getting angry, but if Ted was running around like a chicken without his head off then it meant that they believed their reputation was at stake. "Thanks a lot Ted. I know. I’ll think of something." The female spun around in her chair again, thinking. If Tristan would let her onto his computer (she would never invade another Variant's technology without their permission) then Neptune could most likely find someone for him. Let's see there was a dancer, a gardener, tailor, a handful of combat specialists.... A certain blonde crossed her mind, one whom Neptune had only met once and she was drawing a blank on the name.

"What about that girl that served on Nova? The blonde? I think she works at a strip club now..." Neptune trailed off, lost in thought for a few seconds. "I can find her if you'd like?" She asked Tristan, figuring that someone was better than no one.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Neptune Taylor Character Portrait: Anya Tavora Character Portrait: Christopher King Character Portrait: Tristan Bellum Character Portrait: Pandora Inese Character Portrait: Darren
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By order of the Prime Minister and Chief Master Sargent of Rune, you are hereby required to report to Research Building A113A, located in the Medical District of the Upper Ring of Rune by the time of 1:00 PM on the day of 12/06/4897. This is mandatory and any Variant that fails to comply will receive capitol punishment.

Thank you,


Prime Minister Wesley

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Neptune Taylor Character Portrait: Anya Tavora Character Portrait: Christopher King Character Portrait: Tristan Bellum Character Portrait: Pandora Inese Character Portrait: Summanus A.
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Night had fallen, the soft tickles of pink and sneezes of orange in the sky had long since faded to the navy of twilight and silence had begun to wrap itself around the Lower Ring. There was a false sense of security in the air as gangs retreated back to their homes for the day, done collecting their payments and raiding other gang bases. Blood was being blasted off of the streets by sidewalk washers and mothers were calling their children in from minuscule front yards, telling them that it was time to come inside for the evening.

At the police station, Sin was angrily buttoning up her shirt. She had been given the duty of rounding up all Variants tonight and begin to send them to the Upper Ring for whatever it was the government needed them for. Suspicion was high, there were whispers flitting across the halls as she made her way downstairs with the two other Variants that would be assisting her. In Sin's hand was a small device, a reader that could find the bar code of a Variant within three hundred feet. They were not going to take anyone in by force, no their job was to simply inform and point them in the right direction; should there be resistance however, they were allowed to subdue, but nothing more.





It was a long night, Sin had gone into bars, knocked on apartment doors, and had crept through alleyways in order to inform Variants of the mandatory report. Only one had resisted, but Sin had stopped him before he could do any damage and brought him in to the police station so they could perform the transfer.

Currently Sin stood in front of Medical Research building A113A, her hands shaking a bit as she wiped them on the pant leg of her uniform. She strode into the lobby, the last one to arrive and the doors locking behind her. The deadline had passed and Variants were standing in the entrance of the building. A few Sin recognized, a blond that owned a bar she had frequented and his purple haired girlfriend who could often be found there, a stripper Sin had given a ride home to once on a cold winter night. There were others, the gardener she had seen beat up humans who stomped on his plants, Wilson and Christopher from the police department, the private detective Pandora she had helped solve a case with once, as well as the talented mute seamstress, and... Wait, was that a human? The person was handcuffed and two armed guards stood on either side.

Confusion rode her expression for a moment, but it wasn't any of Sin's business if the government wanted a human here. Unless they were actually a reporter that had gotten into the building for a quick scoop? She shook her head and turned to face the man standing on a mini stage at the front of the lobby. He cleared his throat, the sound coming over the loudspeaker. "I'm sorry to have to gather you all on such short notice, but-" he paused, hesitating. "War has broken out once more between the Americans and Koreans. I'm afraid you've all been recommissioned for a new assignment in Hoshii. You're all going back to the battle front."

Sin's heart sank, her knees began to shake and she felt weak. Someone in the room threw up, another few burst into tears. The Variant leaned against the wall, her head spinning as she digested this news.

They were going back to the war.