[b]Helios Station[/b]

From the dingy hotel room complete with a slightly dark stain in the carpet that he was fairly sure was someone's blood to the row of sketchy-looking bars on the outer wing of the station, Saedet felt a sort of humor about the station. He wandered through the dimly-lit passageways with a courier bag slung over his shoulder, until a hologram from his wristwatch alerted him to the reason why he had come. Someone had wanted to meet with him on this station: news of a job had drawn him here, where he had been waiting for a week trying to get a handle of the situation. For him, however, things had proven difficult. The guy had no aliases in civilian or military records, no social media presence, no tax records... It was like he was a ghost. Sadaet appreciated as much. It also made him feel better: his potential employer was careful and professional, and those people usually didn't scam and murder their hires.

A pathway in vibrant blue traced through the halls on his eyelens display, towards a seedy red sign that read "The Wasted Wormhole." Some brands of beer in neon were advertised on the window, along with a quaint "OPEN" sign. The soft beat of a chillwave vibe pounded gently to the hallway. Sadaet checked his corners and ran his hand across the grip of his revolver before pushing in. His eyes scanned the sparse crowd, his eyelens bringing up whatever information on them it found. Two by the corner, a dark-skinned woman with white hair and some other woman that Sadaet couldn't quite place, caught his attention. His eyelens drew up more data on them: certain things appeared fishy to the trained eye. Most people their age had things like pictures on social media, publically available apartment rental contracts, or other minute facets of daily life. To Sadaet, theirs looked... Fabricated. He put some tabs on them and ordered a house lager at the bar.

He pulled out his phone, scrolling through an AI-generated feed. He knew none of the people that showed up on his media accounts, but he did it to generate network traffic that his him amongst the general population. He tapped past pictures of couples he's never seen having babies he never would meet, simultaneously knowing everything about them but not anything at all. He liked a few, thanking the bartender as a glass of beer was placed on a dingy coaster by his hand. More news stories popped up from around the system. A break-in on Helios Station. A mining accident on a moon. Solar panel malfunctions causing brownouts for certain sections. All equally meaningless to him. He sat in the upholstered seat and checked his watch: if this guy was as professional as he seemed, hopefully he'd be on time for the meeting.