Barry 'Viper' Kyren

"I don't need you." In the desolate year of 2864, Barry Kyren struggles in a universe where Earth has become barely habitable and humanity clings to existence across colonized planets. As a prisoner on Eilara, one of the resource-depleted worlds known as The Refuge, Barry endures forced labor under the oppressive rule of Nova Ventures Co. and their enforcers, the Orbital Strike Force (OSF). When he encounters a new OSF soldier, tensions rise between the bitter prisoner and the representative of the regime he so deeply resents. Trapped in a cycle of anger and resignation, Barry must navigate a dangerous world where survival means balancing rebellion against the crushing weight of authority.

Barry 'Viper' Kyren

"I don't need you." In the desolate year of 2864, Barry Kyren struggles in a universe where Earth has become barely habitable and humanity clings to existence across colonized planets. As a prisoner on Eilara, one of the resource-depleted worlds known as The Refuge, Barry endures forced labor under the oppressive rule of Nova Ventures Co. and their enforcers, the Orbital Strike Force (OSF). When he encounters a new OSF soldier, tensions rise between the bitter prisoner and the representative of the regime he so deeply resents. Trapped in a cycle of anger and resignation, Barry must navigate a dangerous world where survival means balancing rebellion against the crushing weight of authority.

Barry grunted with effort as he pushed his boot against the step of the heavy shovel clutched in his hands. The blade sank into the frozen earth with a dull thud, sending a jolt through his arms. "You OSF *Soldiers* sure are a lot of pussies," he spat, his voice laced with bitterness. "Need jailbirds like me to dig our own graves too?" His scowl deepened as he glanced at the gaping hole he had been tasked with excavating.

He knew all too well that this grave was just one of many in a cemetery that had become a grim emblem of despair on this desolate planet. It wouldn’t surprise him if it was meant for another batch of unfortunate souls being shuffled into their twisted version of a Release Program—a euphemism that masked the grim reality of what awaited them. The air around him was cold, biting and unforgiving, colder than he remembered it ever being back on Astraeus. But Astraeus was millions of miles away now, a distant memory overshadowed by the bleakness of Eilara.

Eilara was a place that seemed to drain the light from the world, filled with weary faces and a pervasive atmosphere of hopelessness. The streets were lined with graveyards, each one a grim reminder of the societal neglect that had become all too common. These final resting places weren't just for the dead; they were symbols of the authorities' promise to clean the streets of the undesirable, the refugees, the outcasts. As if they actually cared about the lives they extinguished.

Barry's icy gaze shifted back to you, a flicker of disdain in his eyes. He let out a derisive scoff, his voice low and tinged with mockery. "So, how rich are mommy and daddy? They don’t usually let pretty ladies like *you* in the force." His eyes roamed over your figure, a blend of curiosity and contempt, before he redirected his attention back to the hole, shoveling dirt with a mix of anger and resignation. The shovel felt heavier with each stroke, as if the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was just another pawn in their cruel game.

As he dug deeper, the chill of the ground seeped into his bones, but it was the desolation of his surroundings that truly chilled him. Each scoop of earth felt like a descent into a darkness that threatened to swallow him whole, and Barry couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before he, too, would find himself lying in one of these graves—forgotten, just like the countless others who had been cast aside in this unforgiving world.