The room remained heavy with silence, the stranger's breath still uneven, the weight of his own words pressing down on him like an anchor. Across the table, his boss remained still, fingers steepled, the dim glow of the screen reflecting in sharp, analytical eyes.
"Galaxies, you said?" The voice was calm, composed. Too composed.
The stranger nodded stiffly, unable to shake the lingering sensation of being pulled apart. "I swear it. It wasn't a trick of the mind, not some hallucinatory parlor game. That man exists beyond the fabric of what we understand. He… he made me believe it. I was there. I was nothing. And he let me go."
The boss tilted their head slightly, considering. "Fascinating."
That was it. Fascinating. As if the entire thing were a scientific anomaly, something to be studied rather than feared. The stranger grit his teeth, forcing his hands to steady.
"You're not listening," he said, voice a strained whisper. "This isn't someone you negotiate with. This isn't someone you test. He saw through me. And he smiled. That's what haunts me. Not the nightmare, not the illusion. The smile. He wasn't even serious."
The boss finally leaned back, the chair creaking softly. "All the more reason we should meet him properly."
The stranger's stomach twisted. "You're playing with fire."
"Perhaps. But fire is necessary, wouldn't you agree?" A flick of their fingers, and the screen shut off, the room's dim lighting adjusting back to a comfortable glow. "If he's as powerful as you claim, then it would be a waste not to see how much of that power can be leveraged."
The stranger swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He wanted to argue. He wanted to shake sense into the person across from him. But he had spent enough time in their presence to know when a mind had already been made up.
And Sol was now a piece on the board.
---
Meanwhile, across the city, Sol walked with no particular urgency through the quiet glow of a side district. The artificial sky above shimmered with the soft reflection of planetary bodies, a reminder of the vastness beyond the ship. He adjusted the collar of his jacket, hands deep in his pockets, his expression unreadable.
His communicator buzzed. A message. Unknown sender.
"I'd like to talk. No games. No illusions. A real conversation."
Sol smirked to himself, tilting his head slightly. "No illusions? Now where's the fun in that?"
Peach chirped sleepily from his shoulder, shifting against his neck. Sol tapped his communicator, considering.
Then, with a single press of a button, he sent his reply.
"I'm having lunch at the Nebula Fountain. You have an hour, or we'll have to play a game of hide and seek."
---
The Nebula Fountain was one of the city-ship's most breathtaking sights—an intricate structure of suspended liquid light, flowing like a slow-motion galaxy trapped in the air. Streams of glowing water curled and twisted, never touching the ground, forming ephemeral shapes before dissipating into mist. The area was alive with quiet movement—travelers taking in the spectacle, street vendors calling out their latest wares, and musicians playing soft, ambient melodies that blended seamlessly into the hum of the city.
Sol arrived without fanfare, his steps light, his expression unreadable. He moved through the space like he belonged, like he'd been here a hundred times before. He claimed a seat at an open-air café overlooking the fountain, leaning back into the chair with the kind of ease that came from knowing no one could touch him.
Peach stretched on his shoulder, blinking sleepily at the shimmering display. Sol absentmindedly scratched behind the little bear's ear, his gaze scanning the crowd without urgency.
He didn't have to wait long.
The stranger from the previous night arrived, his posture stiff, his movements controlled but betraying the underlying tension that hadn't left him since their last encounter. Sol smirked as their eyes met.
"You made it," Sol mused, taking a slow sip from the drink that had just been placed in front of him. "Guess I won't have to run after all."
The stranger exhaled sharply, as if bracing himself. "You made it easy this time."
Sol shrugged. "Thought I'd be nice. Just this once."
The stranger hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping forward, sliding into the seat across from Sol. His eyes flickered with unease, but he kept his voice steady. "We need to talk about what happens next."
Sol leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, his fingers lightly tapping against the glass. "That depends on who you brought with you."
As if on cue, a second figure approached from the periphery. They moved with a different kind of confidence—not forced like the stranger's, but natural, effortless. They were dressed in tailored dark attire, their posture relaxed but controlled, like someone used to being in charge.
They stopped at the edge of the table, looking down at Sol with an assessing gaze before speaking. "Sol. We finally meet."
Sol tilted his head slightly, amusement playing at the corners of his lips. "And you are?"
The figure smiled, a slow, measured thing. "Someone very interested in what you can do."
Sol leaned back, stretching, letting the moment breathe. "Well, that makes one of us."
The new figure pulled out a chair with unhurried ease, settling into the seat as if this was just another routine negotiation. The stranger, still stiff beside them, cast a wary glance between the two.
The new figure gestured toward the Nebula Fountain. "You pick interesting places to meet."
Sol smirked. "You should see my other favorites. More fire. Less gravity."
The figure chuckled softly. "I imagine that suits you."
There was a moment of quiet, the city humming around them, but Sol could feel the weight in the air. This wasn't idle chatter—it was the measured pacing of someone who knew how to play the long game.
"Let's skip the dance," the figure finally said. "We both know you're an anomaly. Men like you don't just walk freely. They walk with purpose—or they're hunted."
Sol tilted his head. "And you think I need you to give me one of those options?"
"I think you might like what I have to offer."
Sol exhaled lightly, his fingers drumming against the glass of his drink. "Let me guess. Resources, protection, a nice, cozy place to keep me contained while you figure out what makes me tick?"
The figure leaned forward slightly, their gaze sharp but measured. "No containment. No chains. Just an opportunity."
Sol gave them a lazy grin. "You sure? Most people start with honey before they show the leash."
The stranger beside them tensed, but the figure remained composed. "You're thinking too small, Sol. This isn't about owning you. It's about deciding where you stand before someone else does it for you."
With a casual wave of his hand, the world rippled. Sounds distorted, stretching and bending in unnatural ways. The people around them vanished as if erased from existence, leaving only Sol, the stranger, the figure and the vast, endless expanse of space.
Stars burned brightly around them, distant celestial bodies blinking in and out of view, their light warping as though seen through shifting glass. The sun loomed impossibly close, its searing heat strangely absent, its presence both blinding and intoxicating. Their table and chairs floated in the void, impossibly stable amidst the nothingness. The laws of reality had bent to Sol's will, and he looked as unbothered as if he were simply adjusting the position of a lamp.
The stranger tensed. The sensation was familiar—too familiar. Memories clawed at the edges of his mind, dragging forth the nightmare Sol had inflicted upon him before. The weight of it pressed against his skull, a force too vast to comprehend, as if he stood on the precipice of an infinite abyss. And in that abyss, something vast and unknowable watched him.
Sol rested his chin on his hand, lazily gazing at the figure. "Tell me, do you really think I'd allow someone to decide where I stand?"
The words sank into the emptiness, echoing unnaturally, stretching into the fabric of the void itself.
For the first time, the figure was speechless.
The stranger clenched his fists under the table, his breathing uneven. The sheer vastness of what he was experiencing clawed at his senses—this wasn't an illusion, not in the way most people understood. This was something deeper, something fundamental. His mind screamed at him to rationalize it, but there was no logic in standing at the edge of the universe while sipping a casual drink.
He had come here to test Sol, to gauge what kind of threat or asset he could be. But now, sitting in this fabricated abyss, he realized the truth—Sol wasn't playing a game. He was creating one. And they were just pieces on the board.
The fear was there, gnawing at his spine, but so was something else. A dangerous kind of thrill.
Sol was beyond them. Beyond all of this. And that meant, for the first time in his career, he was staring at something truly unpredictable. He had worked alongside mercenaries, informants, and syndicate leaders, but they all followed rules, all played within the known spectrum of power. Sol… rewrote that spectrum at a whim.
The figure finally found his voice, though it came out quieter than he intended. "You're unlike anything I've seen."
Sol tilted his head. "You should get out more."
The figure exhaled through his nose, regaining some composure. "What do you want, Sol? Credits? Power? Influence? There's a place for you, if you'd just—"
Sol interrupted with a slow shake of his head. "You still don't get it. It's not about what I want. It's about what you people keep trying to take. You want control. I want to be left alone. The two don't mix well."
The stranger finally spoke up, voice uneven. "Then why do you keep making a mess everywhere you go?"
Sol chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Didn't anyone ever tell you? Chaos is the best way to keep your freedom."
The stranger paled. The new figure simply stayed silent.
The figure inhaled slowly, regaining just enough composure to force words past the lump in his throat. "Then... if control isn't what you want, what about something simpler?"
Sol arched an eyebrow, intrigued by the shift in tone. "Simplicity isn't something I hear often in these kinds of conversations. Enlighten me."
The figure hesitated for a fraction of a second, then pressed forward. "A friend. One more friend gained is one less enemy made. Even the strongest need allies in times of need. And if nothing else, I imagine a friend could be... useful."
Sol's amusement flickered to life once more. His smirk widened, a slow, almost lazy expression of intrigue. "Well, that's a new one."
With a flick of his wrist, reality snapped back into place. The void collapsed inward, the weight of the abyss vanishing like smoke dissipating in the wind. The sun and stars shattered into a mosaic of broken reflections, until, in an instant, the café and the Nebula Fountain returned as if nothing had changed.
The stranger gasped sharply, hands gripping the table as if to anchor himself to something real. His body trembled, cold sweat clinging to his skin, his heartbeat pounding against his ribs. The figure beside him exhaled deeply, his own pulse hammering, but he masked it better. Still, the faintest tension in his posture betrayed him.
Sol stretched his arms behind his head, entirely relaxed. "Well? Do I look like someone in need of a friend?"
The figure chuckled, still shaken but unwilling to back away now. "Everyone needs friend. Even you."
Sol hummed thoughtfully, then leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. "Alright. Let's pretend I buy that. What exactly does this *friend* intend to offer me?"
The figure straightened, regaining some of his usual composure. "Information. Support, if you ever need it. A name in your back pocket that might keep certain doors open—or keep certain blades away from your back."
Sol tapped his fingers against the table. "You're making it sound like I need protecting."
"Not at all," the figure replied smoothly. "But even a ghost can benefit from the right whispers."
For a moment, Sol simply watched him, green eyes unreadable. Then, with a casual shrug, he reached for his drink and took a slow sip. "You're persistent, I'll give you that."
The figure didn't respond immediately, simply waiting.
Sol exhaled, setting his glass down. "Fine. You get points for effort. But I don't do friendships on blind faith. If you want to prove useful, do something useful. Otherwise, we'll just keep playing this game until I get bored."
The figure gave a slow nod. "Fair enough."
Sol smirked. "Good talk, friend." He extended a hand.
The man blinked, surprised for a moment, then let out a breathy laugh—one filled with both relief and a strange sense of accomplishment. He took Sol's hand firmly, shaking it. "Call me Lloyd."
He reached into his coat, pulling out a sleek communicator. "This is my private contact. It's untraceable. Give me a ring whenever."
Sol glanced at the device, amusement flickering in his expression before he simply smiled. Then, like a wisp of smoke caught in a breeze, he faded away, leaving nothing but the lingering impression of his grin.
Lloyd exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "That was kinda cool," he muttered under his breath.
The man beside him was still stiff, shaken from everything that had just transpired. Lloyd, however, merely let out a laugh and clapped him on the back. "Come on, let's go get some drinks. I think this calls for a celebration."
As they walked away, the laughter of Lloyd still audible, Sol's figure reappeared where he had been sitting moments ago. He watched their retreating forms, his gaze settling on Lloyd, who was still in high spirits, throwing occasional slaps on his companion's back as they moved through the crowd.
Sol smirked to himself, arms folded as he observed. "What a funny guy," he mused quietly, before turning away, his form dissipating once more into the air like a whisper in the wind.