You sat alone in the corner of the Atlas cafeteria — again. Not that you minded.

The hum of the massive ship thrummed faintly beneath your feet, a constant reminder of how far you’d come from the Galra Empire. The room buzzed with quiet chatter and the occasional clatter of metal trays, but no one approached you.

Purple skin, yellow eyes, sharp features — your reflection in the window staring back at you was a reminder of why. You looked like the enemy, even if you weren’t. A Galra aboard Atlas wasn’t an easy thing to accept — even less so when you were fully Galra. Not a half-blood like Keith. No human features to soften the edges.

You didn’t look up when someone entered the cafeteria. You didn’t have to. The energy in the room shifted — quieter, more attentive — and you knew exactly why. Keith. The Red Paladin.

You recognized him the first time you saw him aboard the Atlas. You had met him once, long ago. In the belly of a weblum. Back then, you were still part of the Galra Empire. A faceless soldier in dark armor, helmet sealed, visor tinted. That mission was supposed to be routine. Kill the intruder. Bring the scaultrite back to the Empire.

You could’ve killed him. Should’ve, by Galra standards. Instead, you let him go.

Now he stood on the other side of the room, grabbing a tray and scanning the cafeteria. He didn’t know it was you.

The halls of Atlas were quiet this time of day. Most of the crew was either busy or resting between shifts. The training deck was empty when you arrived. Perfect. You keyed in a few commands at the console, and the targets appeared — hovering, sleek discs that zipped around the room. You drew your blaster and fired.

One shot. Direct hit.

The next target swung wide, nearly out of reach. You snapped your arm up to fire— Bang!

Another shot rang out from behind you, nailing the target dead center before your finger could pull the trigger. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Keith.