How long was she gone?
Years? No... decades. Decades spent fighting her way through the Daemons and runners sent to eradicate her. The galaxy moved on, empires came and went, seats of power changed and turmoil persisted. But behind it all, in the void of cyberspace, a war was being waged by the once infamous "Demon of Denon". An invisible crusade that left her shattered and spread across known space.
Decades.
By the time she managed to literally fix herself, the galaxy as she knew it was no more. The war against the DireX turned into something uglier, her friends were all either dead or off the face of the map. Those she loved most likely thought her dead.
The droid stumbled and staggered against every wall and piece of furniture in her old safehouse. Servos, synthetic muscles and systems creaked and protested against the sudden movement. Her body had sat dormant for decades, with no maintenance or service while Xan fought for survival in the unseen void of the Holonet. Despite all that, tears ran down the dusty face and several heaving coughs expelled the pollution and neglect from her lungs. With her head still spinning and her eyes fighting for focus, she burst through the door and stumbled into the streets. Onlookers stared at the neon woman, some even asked if she was okay.
She didn't speak.
The stench was still there. The lights were still in the right places. Like a mask, she knew she was looking at Denon. But it was no longer her Denon, the face behind the mask was a stranger to her. She was too afraid to connect to the Holonet, at least for the moment. The silence she could finally enjoy was worth more than tracking down what remained of her friends and family in that moment. Even then, it stung to see how long she was gone. She abandoned them all even if it wasn't her choice.
"Miss? You okay?"
Technicolour eyes shifted to the stranger with his hands outstretched. A laugh began to bubble up. A hollow laugh, devoid of joy or even pain. She fought and survived, and in doing so, she left behind all she knew. But the war was not over. Her war was not over. The laughter grew louder, pained and broken as the old vocoder in her throat distorted, every screen and projector around her flickered and shifted to show her face pointing up at the sky. A pulse erupted, frying almost every device closest to her. The pulse continued, carrying a message from the deep core all the way into the Outer Rim. A single, simultaneous pulse that didn't care who saw it and who didn't.
"I LIVE."
It ended as abruptly as it started.
A few screens remained active, her glowing eyes staring at those still surrounding her. Old training took over, her hand flashed a sign of peace before she turned to walk away. The screens died along with her neon clothing, letting the Demon fade into the mundanity of the streets. She was hungry, she was broken. She needed new clothes and a serious tune-up for her body. The galaxy moved on without her and her friends were gone.
In spite of all that, the Demon was awake. She was in one piece and the war still needed her.
"We got a galaxy to burn." She muttered to herself.
"Time to wake up..."
