Sam Aston was a young engineer. He worked in a privately owned maintenance company, separate from the Alliance owned resources on his L2- V08744 colony. He made pretty good pay for his job, and he was satisfied with himself and his accomplishments. The way he saw it, he was supporting his colony and his people every day, and he was happy and proud mostly due to the message of Heero Yuy and King Peacecraft, who were both killed three years before.
To Sam, Heero Yuy represented a relatable everyman of peace, like Martin Luthor King Jr from the history books. He was simply that big here in the colonies, spreading hope and a message of compassion throughout the colonies. He remembered the day he heard about the deaths, working on a new water filtration system for the colony in his internship. He remembered how soul crushing it felt to know that such a great man had been lost to history. So he lived his life. It had its own share of stress and woe as any colonist had, but he at least tried to have some fun, share a laugh with a good friend over a pint or two.
That was tonight. Tonight was an annual bar crawl event that he’d been doing since his college days and it never stopped being fun. Even some of the Alliance boys tried to get on in the fun, allowing a certain amount of discrepancy among their ranks, and lowering their strict adherence to the rules for the night. Sure, they got dirty looks and many didn’t think they had the right to be here, but they were there, and most simply ignored them, Sam included. He and Mark took to Red Raven Pub and took seats at the bar, almost instantly, Sam turned his head to the stage off to the side where a portly older man sang poorly to an Elvis Presley song.
“They’re doing Karaoke tonight?” Sam scoffed a laugh, watching the old man go on about hound dogs. “That’s amazing.”
“You would say that.” Mark rolled his eyes. “You’re the only one at the plant with a bearable singing voice.”
“I believe we have a flatterer in our midst.” Sam said in that gravely tenor of his. He could have easily been the lead singer in a college band, if he weren’t so caught up in the practical applications of his crafts, thanks in due part to being in the choir as a child. He was a tinkerer, not an artist. “You want me to liven this place up, just let me know.”
“Spare me. If you want to impress me, go try your luck with a chick for once.” He laughs mirthlessly. “You’re a hopeless romance, but the girls around here don’t really go for that bullshit anymore.”
“Sure about that? I’ll make you eat those words. But consider the gauntlet thrown.” He raised a hand to his chin, scratching his scruffy beard and cast his eyes around the room. Picking someone at random? Zero tact, no possibility of a lasting relationship so what’s the point? He socialized to make friends, not love em’ and leave em’. The regular music came back on until another contender took to the mic, so Sam moved off towards the other side of the bar, shoving his hands into the pockets of his worksuit. He looked like a dime a dozen in this place, with nearly everyone from his quarter coming down off from work tonight. There were some alliance flakes in the corner on their lonesome, and for that matter, mostly men. He caught the eyes of a cluster of tables filled with women. Target acquired.
Sam had played wingman for Mark plenty of times before, helping him score a little action in his otherwise loathsome existence-