Hollow goodbye[edited]

Sera's legs feel like lead as she walks out of the office. The doors slide shut behind her with a soft hiss, but the sound feels like a finality—a judgment passed on her life. Each step she takes feels heavy, as if the very weight of her existence was dragging her down, each echo of her footfalls reverberating back like a reminder of what she's lost. The sterile halls of the company, once a place where she had moved with purpose, now feel suffocating. The fluorescent lights buzz harshly overhead, casting an unforgiving glare over the pale walls and gray floors.

Co-workers pass her by, some turning their heads, others stealing quick glances, but no one speaks. The faces that had once been familiar, even friendly, are now masks of pity—or worse, relief. Relief that it wasn't them sitting across from the boss in that cold office. The cold weight of reality settles in: loyalty doesn't exist in Terra II. Not when survival comes at such a high cost. This planet, built on unending wars, greed, and the constant churn of winners and losers, has no room for loyalty. Not unless you're brutal enough to command it, or lucky enough to find someone who'll stand by your side.

But she has neither. The only loyalty she's ever known has been to herself. She's had to, after what happened all those years ago. It's ironic, though—how quickly people forget that.

Her fingers tremble slightly as she clenches her fists, trying to block out the whispers. But the voices grow louder, becoming a chorus of condemnation.

"She was always a problem," someone mutters.

"Her Oripathy? It was only a matter of time before they got rid of her," another voice adds, sharper, colder.

Their words hit like daggers, each one piercing deeper than the last, making her feel more isolated with every passing second. She tries to shake it off, but the sting remains.

[Notice: Sanity compromised]

It feels like a joke, really. After everything she's fought through, after surviving battlefields that most of them could never imagine, this is the breaking point? A few whispered insults, a severance package, and a cold dismissal? No. There's more to it than that. Something deeper, more personal.

She exhales slowly, trying to keep her anger in check, but her heightened senses are betraying her. She can hear their heartbeats—rapid, erratic, some filled with fear, others with relief. They're all nervous, even the ones who smirk at her misfortune. Deep down, they know that it could've been them. They know they're not safe, not really. No one is.

Sera's fingers brush the scar running over her right eye. It's faint, barely noticeable unless you look closely, but the memory of how she got it is seared into her mind. That battle had nearly taken her life, and for what? A company that cast her aside like trash when she became inconvenient.

She turns a corner and enters the nearby lounge, the quiet hum of the city below filtering in through the massive glass windows. From here, high above the streets, the people below look like ants, each of them caught in their own little worlds, their own struggles. It's strange to feel so disconnected from it all.

She walks over to the bar, dropping heavily into one of the chairs. The bartender glances up, his face breaking into a small, sympathetic smile when he recognizes her.

"It's been a while, Sera. I see you've been let go," he says, setting down the glass he's polishing.

Sera glances at him, her lips curling into a bitter smile. "Yeah, Rio. I guess you could say that."

Rio slides a drink over to her without asking, a familiar dark amber liquid swirling in the glass. "On the house."

She stares at it for a moment before taking it, bringing it to her lips. The burn of the alcohol is sharp, but comforting in its own way. "Still burns like hell," she mutters, setting the glass back down.

"Some things never change," Rio replies, leaning against the bar. He watches her for a moment before speaking again, his voice quieter. "You okay, Sera?"

She lets out a short, humorless laugh. "Do I look okay?"

He doesn't respond, but the look in his eyes says enough. Pity. The same look she's been getting all day.

She finishes the drink quickly, tossing a few LMC credits his way before standing. "Here. Bye, Rio."

"Take care of yourself," Rio calls after her, but she's already halfway across the lounge, her mind elsewhere.

As she approaches the elevators, a voice calls out from behind her. "Sera!"

She stops but doesn't turn immediately, her heart sinking as she recognizes the voice. When she finally turns around, she sees a familiar figure striding toward her with a mix of amusement and scorn on their face.

"Wow—they really did a number on you, didn't they?"