Silver

The city buzzed with the hum of neon lights and the endless chatter of the night crowd. Sol walked unnoticed through the streets, his new disguise keeping him safe from any immediate repercussions. The air was thick with the scent of fried street food, a blend of sizzling oils and spices that wafted through the alleys. He took in the familiar yet distant atmosphere, the lights reflecting off the rain-slick pavement, the occasional hover car zipping by above him.

He pulled the collar of his coat higher, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The disguise was perfect—short silver hair, a slightly aged face, and a more neutral stance that would make him blend in with the thousands of drifters and traders who frequented the city's lower sectors. To anyone watching, he was just another nobody passing through.

"Alright, Peach," he muttered to himself, the habit of talking to an old, absent companion never quite dying out. "Time to find some work before I end up completely broke."

His credits were still in decent supply, but they wouldn't last forever. Without the bar job, he needed to secure another source of income quickly. Fortunately, places like these always had work for someone with his skill set, whether it be information gathering, smuggling, or… more unsavory tasks. He just had to be careful about who he took jobs from.

He wandered into a marketplace that was still lively despite the late hour. Stalls were lined with all sorts of wares—exotic alien spices, black-market cybernetics, scrap tech from derelict ships, and handmade weapons. The vendors called out to passing potential customers, their voices overlapping into a cacophony of deals and promises.

Sol's sharp eyes flicked over the crowd, scanning for anything out of the ordinary. It wasn't long before he spotted a group of men in sleek, high-end coats standing near a weapons stall. Their posture was too rigid, their presence too conspicuous for them to be simple buyers. Corporate security? Syndicate operatives? Whoever they were, they were looking for someone.

"Not my problem," Sol muttered, shifting his direction and slipping through the crowd. He'd had enough trouble for one day.

Just as he turned a corner into a less crowded alleyway, a voice called out from behind him.

"Oi, Silver! You in a rush or something?"

Sol barely stopped himself from reacting. He didn't recognize the voice, but someone had spotted him, and that was already bad news. He turned slowly, his face set in an expression of mild curiosity rather than concern.

A woman leaned against the wall, arms crossed. She was dressed in a fitted jacket with reinforced plating—combat-ready but not military issue. Her short, messy blue hair and the scar running across her eyebrow told him she wasn't just some random street rat. Her stance was too confident, her smirk too knowing.

"I don't think we've met," Sol said casually, tilting his head.

"No, but I make it a habit of keeping track of interesting people." She pushed off the wall, her eyes scanning him up and down. "And you? You're pretty famous these days. Also changing your look so soon after leaving a bar fight? Suspicious, don't you think?"

Sol's mind worked quickly, calculating his best approach. Play dumb? Act offended? Or lean into it? He decided on the latter.

"Well, I try to keep things exciting," he said with a lazy grin. "You wouldn't happen to be interested in hiring, would you?"

The woman chuckled, shaking her head. "Depends. What's your skill set?"

Sol pretended to think for a moment. "Oh, you know. Making problems disappear."

She raised an eyebrow. "Subtle or loud?"

"Both," he said simply.

That seemed to amuse her. She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "I might have a job for someone like you. And don't worry, it pays well."

Sol crossed his arms. "I'm listening."

She nodded toward a small café at the edge of the market. "Let's talk somewhere quieter."

Sol hesitated for a second, then nodded. He followed her into the café, the door chiming softly as they entered. The place was nearly empty, save for a bartender polishing glasses behind the counter. The woman led him to a booth in the back, where she sat down and leaned forward on the table.

"The name's Lira," she said. "And I work for a group that's looking for someone with… your kind of talents."

As they settled in, Sol casually asked, "So, how'd you know I changed my looks?"

Lira gave him an incredulous look before pointing at the small plush bear perched on his shoulder. "If you don't want to be noticed, maybe ditch the bear. The rumors about you always include some weird stuffed animal."

Sol froze, realization dawning on him like a brick to the face. He groaned and slapped his forehead. "Seriously? That's what gave me away?"

Lira burst out laughing at his reaction, shaking her head. "You might be good at changing your appearance, but you've got no self-awareness, do you?"

Sol leaned back, expression neutral but secretly embarrassed inside. "And what exactly do you think my talents are?"

She smirked. "Illusions. Trickery. And probably some other fun surprises."

His fingers twitched slightly under the table. "That so? And here I thought I was just a drifter looking for work."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that." Lira pulled out a small data pad, flicking it on. A holographic image of a high-security building projected above it. "We need something from here. The pay's good, and if you pull it off, there might be more work down the line."

Sol eyed the projection. "That's corporate-grade security. What exactly am I supposed to steal?"

Lira slid a chip across the table. "The details are in here. You in?"

Sol picked up the chip, turning it between his fingers. He was out of a job, needed money, and frankly, he was curious. Whatever this was, it wasn't just some petty theft.

But then he sighed, slumping slightly in his seat. "Why does everyone want me to steal something? Can't anyone have a normal job? What a shitty universe."

Lira chuckled at his reaction, clearly amused. "I'm guessing I'm not the first person who's asked something similar of you?"

Sol, completely aggrieved, started spilling everything, much to Lira's bafflement. The rumors about him painted a very different picture compared to the man in front of her. But Sol didn't care. He kept venting, frustration evident in his voice.

"Can you believe the nerve of these people? They come to kidnap me with some third-rate thugs just for a stupid conversation, and when I kindly go over to their boss to talk, she has the gall to threaten me with the same third-rate thugs. Then they ask me what I want as soon as the tables turn, like they aren't the ones bothering me!"

Lira blinked, unsure whether to laugh or be concerned. Sol only grew more animated as he continued.

"And get this, after being hired as a delivery boy for one single day, they now think I'm their little thief or something! That shitty manager from the gamblers' den even attacked me for not wanting to steal! What kind of fucked-up world is this? Tsk, Lovers' Bar? More like Shit Bar."

Lira listened, both bewildered and slightly afraid. On one hand, she felt bad for the guy—getting dragged into nonsense over a simple delivery job—but on the other, there was definitely something… off about him.

Still, she couldn't help but laugh. "Well, Silver, sounds like you've had one hell of a week. But hey, maybe this job will actually be worth your time."

His cold eyes looked straight into her before coldly saying, "No. And tell the person you're working for to kindly fuck off." Then he walked off, once again changing his appearance and turning Peach invisible.

Lira sighed before making a report, the charming voice behind the communicator sighing in disappointment. However, she perked up once again after hearing Lira recount their conversation. She was surprised to hear that he quit Lovers' Bar, especially after making a mess. No one leaves the Sparkling Den if they cause trouble there—especially Lovers' Bar. That's why everyone was so interested in it and also cautious about it. She was growing more and more interested in the kid.