[img]https://i.imgur.com/HLkrHo4.png[/img] [hr] [color=cyan][i]oh god[/i][/color] Luna bolted upright, eyes wide, a wave of unease washing over her. It was nearly time to- A metallic [i]ping[/i] echoed by her leg, she felt her face flush. The sound left her ear ringing for minutes...? No, not right, too long. It was nearly time to... her head was fuzzy, too loud to think, thoughts were hard to hold onto. "[color=cyan]Ow...[/color]" Mechanical precision asserted itself over her erratic heartbeat, sending a sharp jab of pain through her chest. The electronic pacemaker kicked her out of her reverie, and elicited a much more emphatic, "[color=cyan][i]Ow[/i]![/color]" Luna blinked, frowning as the last bits of her confusion were whisked away and her head cleared. She glanced around, slowly piecing things back together. [color=cyan][i]Room, rented. Right, Uranus, mining city. Had to find a place to stay.[/i][/color] Her eyes were drawn downward, a discarded pair of pliers were lying on the floor by her feet, a piece of jagged metal the size of her palm in their grasp. A tangled mess of wires hung from her thigh, a sight which was no less disconcerting than it sounded, that limb numb even from the artificial facsimile of sensations it offered because of the disconnected wiring. That, or as a result from the-now empty-syringe she realized she had been holding. [i]Numbness[/i] was not something she'd been expecting from using it, but it wasn't entirely impossible. Luna looked back down to her partially disassembled leg and events started to link together in sequence. She'd be shot in the leg, by what it was hard to say, she never did find the shell. Not on purpose, they were aiming for... someone else. A grenade had gone off, a piece of shrapnel lodged itself in her other leg and her arm. The [i]real[/i] part of her arm; Luna felt the cold squeeze of a synthetic medwrap around it. She had been escorting supplies to an engineer, Hawthorn, the gunmen were after her; Luna had been caught in-between. Words quickly devolved into a firefight, she distinctly remembered Hawthorn [i]not making through[/i] that in uh, one piece. Funny how certain detail stick. How she ended up on some nearly backwater industrial platform was beginning to make sense. She'd stuck around Hawthorn's place after everyone else had cleared out, and the engineer had gotten a call from someone who wanted to make use of her talents. Given that the person in question wasn't going to be in any state to answer in this life, Luna had taken the liberty of covering for the permanently indisposed. A trader had gotten her to Uranus, where the contact had stated she'd meet someone to bring her up to speed on the finer details of the job. That was... a few days ago, maybe? Time was still strongly disregarding her attempts to pin it down. Either way, consulting the worn holopad thrown on the bed next to her confirmed the whole [i]finer details[/i] thing was going to happen in a few hours. It only took a few minutes for her to pull herself back together, quite literally as her foot spasmed as she reconnected wires and sealed the prosthetic, and haphazardly shoving her tools back into her back. Her pistols holstered at her hips and rifle slung across her back accounting for the rest of things in this universe she could call her own, Luna exited the less-than-civilized housing complex and made for the nearby spaceport, absently thumbing her communicator. She opted to walk rather than take transportation, using the time to try and get it into her head that these people hired a one [i]Felicity Hawthorn[/i], and she didn't want to disappoint them in that regard. [hr]