[center] [img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/180328/ae29775eac2cd2c115fbb81f4dbbfd1e.png[/img][/center] [right][hr][color=gray][b]Smith's Rest, New Anchorage | Convention Center[/b] March 26th, 2677[/color][hr][/right] [indent]Harrison Kane wasn’t particularly well-versed in press conferences but he knew that this smelled rotten from the start, he didn’t need Commander Graham’s warning. After working the independent circuit and being a corporate pawn Kane had acquired a certain level of wisdom regarding the politics of being a neural combatant. He had seen it before in settlement leaders, corporate executives, raider retinues, and independent ministers—every single one of them were posturing and planning. But what was the plan here? To give the public an honest look at the people who were defending them after a brutal attack? It might’ve been cynical to distrust a person he had never met before but for Kane it was his [i]instinct[/i]. An instinct that strengthened as the crowd went silent after Kathryn Dradht told the truth, Percy Moore fled from the stage, and Madison Cole broke down in front of him. It was a vicious spectacle in his eyes and it made his stomach turn in apprehension. In silent contemplation he took a drink of the liquid from his flask, the golden brown liquid running down his throat as he didn’t even shoot a glance towards the podium. He didn’t need to see the expressions on anyone’s face — he knew enough from the uttered gasps and murmurs. The newly elected minister’s voice appeared sympathetic as Madison began to stammer and doubt herself in front of an entire audience; a reaction that made him ball his left hand into a fist underneath the table. [i][color=954f4f]Typical. Don’t act like you care, you damned fink.[/color][/i] The thought aside, he knew very well it was his time to be “interviewed” despite thinking it was a categorically [i]terrible[/i] idea. He took a light sigh as he placed his flask in its slot on his utility belt before he straightened the collar of his jacket before moving forward to the podium as Madison returned to her seat. In his mind, the sooner he dealt with this the quicker it was done. [color=954f4f]“Harrison Kane. I fly the Liberator.”[/color] Kane stood at the podium, calm yet equally aloof — he wasn’t about to pretend to be a soldier in front of the people of New Anchorage. They deserved the truth and as a person there was little that he even wanted to withhold at this point in his career. He had done enough lying in the last few years of his life and on top of that he had made a promise to someone that he would never lie to save face again. If people asked him a question, he was going to tell them the truth even if the consequences didn’t suit him. That said, Kane knew this public interview was going to throw many questions his way and the public at large weren’t going to like the truth. He had Ryn’s back-and-forth a few minutes ago to prove that much. His eyes moved to a woman who perched her hand—the first of his interrogators. “Who did you fly for before you came to New Anchorage?” His brows narrowed — he was expecting a question like where he was from or something equally as simple but it seemed they wanted to jump right to the larger questions. He had no intention to hide things from his new employers but the person in charge had already read his dossier and put him through a physical and psychological exam. But this wasn’t his employer; these were people who might’ve not even known how to read and just wanted assurance. Every instinct told him to be vague rather than spell everything out. [color=954f4f]“I worked independently for most of my life — it wasn’t until a few years ago that I was forced into the employment of the Fairbanks Corporation.”[/color] The red-haired man could feel a chill climb up his spine as he mentioned his time with Fairbanks, a chill that was accompanied by a terrible anger in his stomach and memories he was trying to run away from. He could hear the echoes from his past as a reminder of what the consequences for trusting people in power were. His hand moved into his longcoat for the pack of pre-war cigarettes he kept for moments of anxiety and dread. “Forced?” He moved a single cigarette to his lips followed by a lighter—it wasn’t worth asking if it was okay for him to do so. As he exhaled a small amount of smoke, he nodded. [color=954f4f]“That’s right. You might not know this out here in the tundra, but the corporations operate in many different ways and one of those ways is finding a way for you to work for them. For me, I had a family—a wife, a daughter. To the corporations they were [i]incentive[/i] and once they had them they had me. That’s when I started to do missions for them, off the record.”[/color] He took another hit from the piece of lit tobacco—he could still hear his daughter’s screams when they slit his wife’s throat in front of both of them. Another hand rose from the audience, this time from a man in the crowd who appeared a little younger than him. “How long did you work for Fairbanks? What kind of work did you do off the record?” [i][color=954f4f]I killed innocent people.[/color][/i] It didn’t take a genius to follow the trail to where it ended, but Kane didn’t think less of any of the people for asking for elaboration. They were curious and concerned — albeit naively so. He had promised to never forget about what happened and why it happened, even if doing so caused him to suffer through vivid nightmares. But was this man’s curiosity good enough reason to share the brutality of what he had lived through? The brutality of what his family [i]didn’t?[/i] [color=954f4f]“Do you really want to know? I ask because it’s not a pretty picture. They killed my wife because I refused an order, broke my daughter’s fingers because I was working “under performance”, and beat me until I was compliant. I’ve killed people who didn’t deserve it, all because they had me on a leash. The atrocities I was forced to do are not ones I will do ever again; I’d sooner refuse a command and face consequence then have that on my conscience.”[/color] There were gasps and murmurs after he replied as he did—he expected it. They needed assurance. [color=954f4f]“As far as I know, I’m still here. Fighting for the liberty of everyone who deserves it. There are enough ghosts that follow me. My time at Fairbanks was not my choice, but I refuse to lie to any of you on what I did. I tell you this because you need to understand who you hired in full transparency.”[/color] [color=crimson]“New Anchorage appreciates your honesty, Mister Kane. Next?”[/color] [/indent]