Hunted and the Haunted, Part I

"One man can make a difference", they say, but at what cost, I ask. Never thought it to be easy, never expected it to happen over night, but the sheer amount of idiocy and hypocrisy is repulsive. Everyone looked at it as a one-man war against the whole world, everyone laughed and said it was a good joke, and it did start to feel that way after a while, but not anymore. Now it is nothing other than a one-man war against humanity itself and its very nature; A war I never asked to be a part of, and a war one man cannot possibly win on his own, or even fight on his own. The lies we try to fight, are the same lies they've spoonfed us as a child, and when the fight is lost, nothing but dignity is sacrificed.

The world is in no shape or form perfect. Never thought it to be, never expected it to be. It's far from it, and becoming worse by the second, so it was nothing but naivety that made me believe one man may survive such a fight, even if he just wanted the world around himself to be a better place, without giving a damn about the world anyone else lives in, wants to live in, or fights not to live in. Perfection's thought to be an absolute term, but only on paper. Out there, it's as relative as a term can get, so compromise is the one lacking element in the fight I've found myself involuntarily fighting, and an effective compromise is the only thing needed to win.

What makes compromises in each situation unique, is the opportunities providing them which are often mere coincidences and rarely part of the plan, and that's why only those ready to take risks are the ones able to use those opportunities properly and end with compromises in their favor, rather than in favor of the elements providing the compromise, and that's the key in getting out of any major mess without having to end in an even bigger mess right afterwards.

It was easier the old days; Working for the Dragons, having access to their resources, facilities, pilots. I could have eyes and ears everywhere, tracking wasn't a challenge. But now they're gone and so am I, no longer in known territory, out in unfamiliar sectors and prone to prying eyes. I've never let my guard down, because I never should, and that's exactly what's exhausting me the most. They used to give me a name, or a face, and I used to track it and put it down, man's yet another animal after all. But nothing's the same anymore, no one's calling the shots, and I'm on my own out in the open. Constantly exposed, vulnerable.

Outcasts have never been a threat. They like to believe they are, but they're no better than the Corsairs they so adamantly despise. They like to tell themselves they're better, but then again... Doesn't everyone?

"I have no business with you or your superiors. I don't care if you want to waste your own time, but stop wasting mine." It was time to cruise off. Yet another chatty mouth around was the last thing I needed right now.

Another self-righteous bastard promising heaven, while stuck in hell himself. "What makes you think you have anything at all to offer that would interest me? Now bugger off." The gut feeling never lies, and my gut's telling me this one's nothing but trouble, but I try not to shoot Outcasts. If this one has even half as much times to their 'superiors' as he claims to have, shooting him and of course as a result killing him would make flying in damn too many places too big of a pain for a while until they forget, which they will, but only with time.

Been here before, once, a long time ago. Nothing's changed. Still the same dump it was back then, and still filled with a hoard of Outcasts being overprotective over nothing, or even worse - over a dump. They wanted me to come here, but gave me no name to ask for, but then again, if they had enough influence to actually manage to track me down, they have enough influence to know the moment I landed on the base, so better not leave the docks. Sooner they find me, sooner we can get this over with.