Suitable only for a mature audience for strong but rare occurrences of foul language and sexual references.

"Okay Vee." I laughed against his lips, they were strong, guided, experienced even. The pilot was the first to locate and recognise me and my, uh services. "Whatever you say." The last night I'd spent with him had been blissful, but I'd stopped where he'd insisted, against the rumours, I was not a whore or a harlot, I was just a rather good shooter and they were jealous. That was it. Jealous. Whatever, sucks to be them.

Resistance fighters are exactly like the First Order minus the taxpayer budget. They hold the same pompous arrogance in their own way, they claim a worthy and peaceful goal yet individually hold their own secret desires in their heart. All men are dark and all women do their best to try and keep their hold on the universe, it's the same in every Galaxy.

Evil vs good. Everytime. The means justify the reasons. Something like that. It'd been drilled into my head since my mother had offered her saviour me as a toy. Thank-you mother, for trading your daughter in gratitude. Nothing like the motherly affection to get the love flowing.

"You know Neo," he pushes his fingers through my hair, his teeth nipping at my lip. "We should forget this whole resistance fight thing and run off into the sunset with only us."

I roll over onto him and sit up so that I'm straddling his pelvis. I lean down, dragging my finger around his chest seductively, it travels through the heavy ridges of muscle and then around and up to his lips. I gripped his blonde curls and leaned close so that my bare breast were pressing against his chest. I lean in close and whisper. "You wouldn't be the first one to offer me that deal,"

Elegantly, with the poise of a Desert Serpent, I slide off of his body, dress in my casual clothing and leave before he's arisen out of his stupor. Maybe his lost state of mind is attributed to the dissolvable pills I slipped into his drink earlier last night.

I chuckle to myself and flip through the coins in his man purse before throwing away the worthless leather. Nice quality but a thief can afford better.

That was another nickname I'd received, thief.

Harlot, whore, slut, bitch, slave and thief.

But names could be forgotten, replaced, so I didn't care.

I didn't care for a lot of things.

Except him.