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She never knew just how long she has gone on for. Just how long she's been lying there, looking through the scope of her rifle and waiting for her target to come by.

Not that she's going to actually make it due to the wound on her side.

She can feel her eyelid getting heavier with each passing second and as more blood flows from her wound. She removed her eye from the scope and looked at the wound.

The plasma shot she took tore right through her armour, even taking a few of her cybernetics with it. The manufacturers of the armour were adamant that it would protect against such things.

She knew they were lying through their teeth and beaks, especially with such low quality and mass produced gear. But she bought it anyway, against her better judgment and past actions.

After the life she's lived, she just wants it to end.

She placed her eye back to the scope, finally seeing her chance. Her target, oblivious to his impending doom, stood facing outwards and no one else was around.

One final kill to complete, complete the ten year "contract" and to send the funds to her account and hoping her contractor won't skimp out of the deal.

She pulled the trigger, the plasma shot hurtling across the open air. It hit the target, leaving his face near unrecognisable.

After the target fell down, the pain from her wound went up twenty-fold. She grunted, her one eyebrow squinting at the pain. She reached a feathery appendage over to her prosthetic wing, touching a few buttons and brought up an interface to look at the one she needed to see.

"Target's dead. Send the money through now." She demanded, still fighting to keep her eyelid from closing.

"Diamond Ace, the money will be sent through. Will there be any more business?" The contractor responded.

She grinned, a hint of superiority in her eye. "No. I know you have specifically sent me on the worst missions for the ten years of the contract. There'll be no more interactions between us ever again." She bit back and closed the interface. "Go to Hell."

Her eyelid was getting heavier. She slumped against the rifle, sending it onto its side. Crimson blood pooled around her, coating her leg armour red. As she struggled to keep her eye open, she saw him again.

A falcon, in an armour reminiscent of an angel. But she knew that it held a secret. He was smiling and was still beside her even after all these years. She finally smiled again after all those years of not being with him.

"Orion." She whispered, before finally succumbing to her wound, the smile still etched upon her beak.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

On another planet:

A 21 year old falcon walked the streets of the megacity he lived in. He carried an antique bag, the worn leather strap over one shoulder and rested on his other hip. In it was all the technology pieces he needed to make his way up in Thonov and, furthermore, the universe. Thinking of nothing else but opportunities to show his mechanical skills, he never noticed the second presence in his apartment.

He placed the bag onto the table and sat down in one of the two chairs there, resting his head onto his crossed wings, his eyes slowly closing. Right now, he needs coffee, and lots of it, but he can't be stuffed to get it.

"Are you tired, young falcon?" A voice said.

The falcon jumped, the adrenaline waking him up immediately. He got up from his seat and looked around the apartment, but couldn't tell where the voice came from. Suddenly, his dominant wing was jerked behind his back and his face was slammed against the table's metallic surface.

"Because, if not, there's stories to tell."

The young falcon struggled, trying to push against the table with his remaining wing, but couldn't get a grip on the smooth surface. "What do you want?!" he yelled, breathing heavily.

"To tell you stories," was the answer he got, all calm and calculating, as if them holding him down was of no stress.

"I stopped wanting to hear them since I was twelve. What could you prattle on about?"

"The story of your true parents, Herne."

At that subject, the falcon stopped struggling. The orphanage, why the other kids treated him badly, and him only getting adopted at the last second.

His assailant released his wing and sat down at the other chair, the light finally revealing them. A male hawk, some feathers weren't regrown from heavy scars, and a HUDV, a Heads Up Display Visor, was powered up around the eyes, hiding them from view. A wing was raised and tapped a function on the side, the HUD powering down, and revealing the dark red.

"Now, are you chill enough?" he asked, placing his feet, the boots styled to his avian feet, onto the table's metal surface.

Herne sighed, his beak clacking when the two parts hit each other again, "Yeah, yeah, sure. Go ahead," he said, running a wing through his head feathers.