Dear Helen,

I'm not sure if you still remember me, but I think about you, mom, and dad everyd-

Dear Helen,

I'm not sure if you still remember me, but I really have to talk to somebody I can trust. This is your brother. I know I have a lot to explain, and I don't even know if you want to talk to me. How are mom and dad? And how are you? I hope everyone is okay.

I know it's been about twenty years since I have last seen you. I miss you Helen, I miss mom and dad too. I'm writing to you from a distant system, far away from Dublin. This might come as a shock to you, but as soon as I left, I started hanging around the wrong people. I worked as a contract killer, Helen. That's right. I'm not proud of it either. A lot of things happened and I ended up befriending an Outcast. You know Corsairs, well, Outcasts are pretty much the same kind of people as far as I understand. He took me to his home. A planet called Malta, far away from here. I worked there, for the Outcasts, for about ten years. I'd rather not go into it. All I'll say is that it was honest work and I was respected for what I did. I had a structured life, surrounded by friends and good people. After ten years, I left them on friendly terms to seek adventure. At least, that's what I told them. They were sad, but respected my decision and I was personally escorted out of their systems by a squadron of their most legendary aces, many of whom were already retired at the time. All this happened about three years ago.

Since then, things have been going downhill for me. I felt back into my old ways, except worse this time. I started killing for fun, Helen. I don't know why I did it. I started fights with traders, policemen, and pirates alike, just to have an excuse to end their lives. It was a rush. Fighting for your life, and hearing innocent people make their final sounds over private comms. I met an alien species too. Called the Slomon K'Hara. You wouldn't know what they are, and it's too troublesome to explain. I tried to be with them, as a means to forget my past and feel good about myself. They were friendly and told me to go some place called the Shrine. I tried searching for it, but never found it. I became depressed, Helen.

I came across some ships of my old friends, the Outcasts, and I killed them. That was the first time, since leaving Hood, that I cried. I cried like a child, and I was on the verge to end it all. All this happened two days ago, Helen.

I landed on Canterbury Station today, and upon entering the bar, I saw I was a wanted man. An anonymous person put 800.000 credits out for someone to kill me. I'm not scared, Helen. I don't care about my life anymore. I get increasingly frustrated with normal people, who are seemingly happy. Fools. I wish I could kill them. They don't deserve to be happy. Helen, let me ask you a question, why do some people choose to be good? I never understood this. I want to be free, fight for something meaningful, learn about myself and be enlightened. I haven't learned anything in twenty years. Twenty years of meaningless work and killing.

The only thing I have left is my ship, my hands, and my wit. I am the best pilot I have ever seen. How come nobody has ever managed to kill me? I'm starting to think some sort of demonic power is driving me. But that would be crazy. I am angry, Helen. Where do I go? Nobody accepts me for what I am. Even pirate groups think I'm a psychopath. I kill them too, Helen, they are just as bad as the corporations. Pirates and corporations all want to be rich. The irony. Greed drives everyone. If only they just died.

I hope I don't scare you Helen, I would never hurt you, or mom, or dad. I think I love you, but I haven't seen you for so long, I don't remember what love feels like.

My sweet Helen, I don't know what to do. I've come to you for advice. I feel lost.

Your little brother,

Alex

"Freelancer 011 requesting permission to dock with Freeport 1"

"This is Freeport 1 flight control, Freelancer 011, you are cleared to land."

"So hey, do you guys get access to all the storaged parts and weapons?" Alex asked. "Well yeah, why?" The Zoner mumbled.

"Look at all that ammo..." Alex mumbled quietly as he walked into the storage room.

"Oh, I'm new here, I flew over from Freeport 10. My name's..."

"...Noolan Murphy."

"So how come your name tag says Logan Murphy eh?" The Zoner commented.

"Aha, so they found the body in the bathroom. This is going to get interesting. If only you could see me now Helen." Alex thought, while trying to look for gaps in the Zoner presence so he could make a run for it.

"Stun him! Quick!" One of the men shouted.

"Only two left." Alex mumbled while hiding behind some crates.

"Y-you! Aren't you the son of Miles Callaghan?! A-alex! Alex isn't it?!" One of the men shouted as he saw Alex' face.

"What the hell do you know about my family?" Alex asked him, while kneeling next to the man and holding his gun to his temple.

"They're dead idiot! They hung themselves after you left the Hood!" The man exclaimed.

"Who are you?" Alex calmly asked.

"I was the last person you talked to when you left. You asked me for permission to undock."

"So tell me, what about my sister? Was she ever found?" Alex asked.

"N-no." The man muttered as he began losing blood. The man started sighing and his eyes went blank.

"Set coordinates to New London." Alex spoke to his console.