Bio
I wasn’t raised on clean stations. I grew up around hull plating, half-working systems, and people who made credits without leaving a trail. Opportunity didn’t come knocking—I chased it through ports where manifests were optional and mistakes were expensive.
My first jobs were simple: move cargo fast, keep quiet, don’t ask questions. One run went hot, security locked the port down, and I learned the lesson that keeps me alive—speed gets you out, discretion keeps you free. I disappeared, changed my name, and took the callsign Slipstream.
Since then, I go where the margins are best. I pirate when the numbers line up, smuggle when they don’t, and salvage when the shooting stops. Wrecked ships don’t argue. Dead metal is patient, and it pays if you know what to cut first.
Profit comes first. If I take a job, it gets done. Cargo moves. Targets vanish. Wrecks get stripped and sold. Bounties chase me, deals go bad, and the lanes try to kill me. I’m flying.
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