Helly Reyne
Hartlite Frontwoman
Days 1-2
Hall 8
Tal'cara, Kothlis
Days 5-8
Ektra Music-
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Helly Reyne Xenophobic?
When Hartlite was first introduced to the world just three years and two albums ago, they gained an undying support of a diverse fanbase, many of whom grasped onto their message of being free-spirited and standing up for oneself. If you had asked any of us just a couple of months ago if Helly held any prejudiced views whatsoever, we would have called you insane. Today, however, is not a couple of months ago.
New reports have come in from a former stagehand of Hartlite who claims he had to listen to Helly Reyne herself ramble on about Neimoidian stereotypes, the berating of Cerean appearances, and the insistence that "headtails are just plain creepy." The list goes on, but it appears as if she has something negative to say about almost any species that isn't human. She even appears to harbor discrimination against the Kaleesh, stating how glad she is that they wear masks because of how "ugly" they are underneath.
We haven't heard anything from Hartlite's drummer, Sandoru, who is Kaleesh himself, but something tells us that this won't be the last we hear of this controversy as this once-strong group of four will have to deal with their lead singer's xenophobia at some point. I would say that I'm sad for their inevitable drama, but if these rumors are true, then perhaps it's best not to put much faith in this band after all.
If you're at all disappointed in these allegations like we are, then perhaps we could recommend some other bands to fill in that punk rock hole in your heart. First, there's always-
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W̷̴̸̢̪̟͙͍̺̼̫̞̯͎͝H̘͈̱̱̦͈̝̲̜͎̥͖̯͜͡ą͇̺͉̰̱͎͚͇͉̣̻͘ͅţ̩̱̯̙̗̙̙̣̭̭͚̺̟̺̼͇͔͉̳͝ ̡̞͈̹̤͈̯̮̳̦̟̭̤̰̬̫̬͓͟w̶̷̡̛͉͇̜̯̗̣͕͖̘̰̺͓͞A҉̵͙̖͚̲̠͎͔̟̰͓̖̠̮͖ͅS̴҉̸̳͍̥̳͖͇͓̳̰̼̝̜̯͟ ̷̞̬͉͕̫̟̯ͅͅs͇̲͚̪̜̹̕h͏̵̡̧̮͙̲̰̕e̢̦̤̗̰̘̦̝̪̖̟̱̥̫̠̻͞ ̸̖̤̹͈͖̖͞p̮͕̰͓͍͙͟͟Ŗ̷̺̩̩̠̤̫͈͍̗̱͉͉̞ó̴̜̟̦̹̬̹ģ̷̡͖̤͙̯͎̪͇̹͓r͏̬̮͚̼̠̜̬͚̝̦͖͇̦̺̯̹̜̥͙͝͠Ą͠҉̭̱̺͓̙͇͇̗͖͖͓̝͡ͅͅḿ̛̛͙̹͓͇͈̟̖̪̼̬̰̺̝̀ͅm҉̢͔̱̭̩̮͚̖̙̻̥̫͉͉̙̩̞̳̀E̲͚̞̗̤̺̯͎͢͠͠d̵̛͎̗̟̥͔͔̙̰̼̰̼̼̻̞̀͡ ̧̳̳̝͎̗̻̼̩͖̗̹͖̺͟ͅF̕͏̦͔̙̦̺͘ͅò̶͎͕̘̫̩̯̳͈͉͜͟͞Ŕ̢̨̛̻͍̦͈ͅ ̷̘͖̻̻͎͓͉͓̠͔̻̘̦͔͕͇̯̪̀h̷̦͉̟͉̦͕̯̘̀͢͠͠ͅA̡̫͈̻̪͍̣͖̠͇ͅt̷̛̫͔͔̰͓͠ȩ͉̙͈̟̻͕̗̗̬̘͓͡ͅ ̡͘͢҉̫͕̝͕̳͈͉̹̭̪o͎̟͙͓͕̪͙͈͠͡͡r̵͏̧̣̠̘͟͞ ̴̧̣̰̮͈͉̝̪̹̯̹̫̯s̵͘͏̨̞͎̥̺̬̖̤͔̩̫͉̟̲́o͇̭̟͉̲̘̩͚̙̣͔̖̹͘M̶̧̤͚͖̞̘͉͇͙̞̘̀͠e̛̙̼̲̝̯̟͔̣̝͖̤̤͠͠T̸̡͈̭̤͓̤͚̩̳̞Ḩ̰̖̦͙̣̮̲̙̮͕̭̻͡i̷̶̸̼͙̰̖͚͔͇̦̙͢͝n̡̨̝͈̪̯͘g̨͍̪̖̹̮̼̗͓͕͎͔̣̥̤̭͓̰͉͘̕͜.̧͍͔̩͖̯̯̯͚͇̠͙̜͙̻̀͡.̵̵̨͍̣̗̥̲͚͍̰͇̭͉̯̜̖̀͜.̸̞͍̗̟͍̦̻̯̺̲̭̱̳̥̞͞
Physical information on Helly Reyne. We don't have any way of knowing what's under her clothes, so stop asking, we gave it our best effort.
Age: 27
Species: Human
Build: Slim
Height: 162.5 cm
Weight: 52.4 kg
Skin: Pretty pale
Hair: Who even knows on any given day? It's long I guess. It's naturally light brown
Eyes: We know she likes to wear colored contacts, but her eyes are for sure hazel, guys, not blue or green
Feet: Sometimes she wears size 6, sometimes 6.5, so pick one
Other features: Teeth are kinda messed up, big forehead, little bit of an underbite, and she's got tattoos on her left wrist, left shoulder, below her navel, on her back, on her right thigh, and on her right ankle. Sometimes she has her nose pierced.
That's pretty much all we've got on this one. She's not exactly a household name, so there aren't as many stalkers as you'd think for this lady. You're all welcome to add more if you've got it. Still need more measurements and all that. If you wanna perv out and see all of her tattoos, model photos, candid pics, we've got all the sexy links under the-
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p̸̴̝̜̬͖̘̟̱͜L̴̨̛̗̞͕̭͖̤̱͟ͅȨ̸̸̜̜͎̗͔̰̯̹͈̠̬͞a̢̨̨̢̘̖͇̹̫̝͎̺̙̦̱͖̗͓̺͟s̷̡̨͉̜̮͕͔͚̜̀ͅŲ͟͏̫̞͉̳̰r̛͓̳̱̻͔͚̯͙̤͙̟͍̺̥̲̀ͅę̶̬̹̙͚̖̞̩͍͕́ ͕̟̭̣̗̦́͢͞d͘͘҉̡͓̩̼͙̘̟̥̯̖̟͈͉͈̣̩̯̕ͅr̶̡̼͈̖̙̞͇̣̗̭͙̲͙͎̦̼̞̰̦̣O̵̧̗̭̺̗͘͡͞Í͟͢҉̧̗͎̙̣̗̱̼̦͔͉̠͖̼̮̦̼̩̻̼ḏ̨̡̙͕̗̞̮̝̘̹͎̬̺̳͍͔ ̻̮̥̲͚͎̥̫͉̩̥͔̣͚̘͕̲̱͘͟ͅt̵̢͙̥̞͔͕̳̺̣̺̲͙̹͠ͅH҉̹̲̰̙͚̗͓̲̘̕͞a̸̡͎̺͕͎̙̫͔͍͍t̴͎̫͇͇̺̹͇̙͍͕͞ ̧͚̗͈̯̹͔͡l͕̗̠̭̳̮̞̣͠͡ò̷̴̩̘͔̘̫̟̘̺̜̼͍͓͚̙̙̳̠̮͜͜O̸̰̠͉̳̺̦͜͞͡͠K̶̠͙̝͍͡s̸̸̡̱̤̩̞̩̘̤͕ ̸̧͚͎͖̳̲̼͖͕̤̼͕̝̀͘͜l̶̛͢҉̦͖̼͓I̘͈̰̘̩͞K̷̢̛͇̬̮͕̱͞ͅe̢̥̜̰͇̻̯̫͈̯̣͇͇̰̭̼̹̺̜̬͢͟ ̵̛̼͓͍̼̖̭͍̗͇̞̼̟͓͎̣̻͇̠ͅh̨̧̕͏̣̰̘͇̬̞̙͍̦̣́ͅE̜̳̠̟̣͎͈̲̦͖̣̣͕̙͘͠Ŗ̣̞̙̳̩͎̲̠̼͍͔̫̟͇̤̼̀͠͝.̛̻̮̣͙̲̦͙͕̼̰̦͓͠.̶̨̡̡̤̤̭̜͚̰̭͟.̨͕̞̼̖͔̬̱̞̭̞̖̣̙͖̘̻̕͢͡͠
The Hartlite Initiative
Real Name: Helicent Reyne
Age: 27
Gender: Female
Species: Human (Cyborg)
Home Planet: Coruscant
Occupation: Musician, Singer, Songwriter
Parents: Unknown
Siblings: Unknown
Manager: Trayt Kinton
Relationships: Her relationship with her girlfriend of 2 years, Mona Letra, ended late last year. A newer relationship with a girl of Mandalorian descent is speculated currently.
Force Sensitivity: Helly has stated on multiple occasions that she isn't sensitive to the force.
Instruments: Bass Guitar, Piano, Harmonica, Flute
5 Most Popular Songs Written: Wary, Lucky Like Me, Death of Anger, Climb, Hell's Rain
Time Spent in Hartlite: All 4 years since its conception!
There's a lot to unpack with everything newly revealed about our favorite renegade frontwoman, most notably the fact that she's a cyborg, but also that she's been lying about her family and past. Her abuse of spices and alcohol didn't come as too much of a surprise to many, but it's no less tragic and we all wish the best for Helly going forward. Rumors of a clone have even-
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d̴̶̛̟̜̙͕͈̜̞̯̭̹͎͇͇̤͓o̧҉̛̥̯̱̬͇̙͘͞n̨̛͓̥̹͔̖̯͖̣͎̥̪̟͔͎̫̕͢ͅ'͏̸̷̡̫͎̳̩͍̘͈̪̱̜̙̬̲̖͍̣̭͜T̴̛̼̱̹͓̝̮͔̭͜͡͡ ̷̧̗̗͙͉͖̜̳̗͎̀ͅh̴̡̟̪̘̥͍̝̰̺̝̠O̴̷͢҉̝̯̺̠͖̣̤̥̣̙͚͖͖l̪̺͎̰͕̙̪̥͚͉̠̳̟̘̤͟͡͞d̸̡̛̺̥̙͍͕̻̭̬̯̺̝̪̪͓̬̼͞ ̶̨̬̳̰̰͉̻̟̲͕̭̝͉͕̯̩͜͢͝ͅy͏̨̜͔̪͙̝̱͔̭̞̘̝̘̣̯̘͇͓̞̲͝ọ̵̸̡̢͙̜̙͠u̵̺͇̤̣̫͕͎̞͔͎̼̭̜͇̫̰͠͞͝R̴̨̼̬͓̳̯̰͝ ̵̢͙̟̭͇̖͖̼̤̺̞̖̕͟͞ͅb̩̣̹͚͎̜̲̠͉̻̤͍͢͠r̢̩̼͍͙̲̕͡͞͞ͅE̜̰̖͕͎͓̘͚̝̩̙̠̗̮̣̕͜A̵̶̧̝̤̟͍̗̫͇̫̤̤͘͢t̢͇͇̹̝̘̟͎̠͖̺̣͓̦̀͝ͅH̵̩̮͔͉̬͕̠͇̤͙̹̦̫͝͝ ̨͝͏̥̗̪̭̮͈̹͍̠̱͔̰͈͚̥̣̗̫̕f̷̘̬͉̙̠̤̥͍͈͔̦̠̀̕͞ͅo̩͔̙̞̯̯̕͘͘͝͠R̷̵̨̘̦̗̼̠̼͈͓͓̗̜͔̯̪̣̗̦̀ ̲̩̼̺̹͖̪̙͟͜͜i̸̡̜̜̯̫̹͍͇̜͘͟͝ͅt҉̙̮̥̳̜̹̫̹̯̻̠͕̤͖̱͟ͅͅ ̴҉̨̛̤̦̲̻̱̤̤̞͇̹͕̯͟t̡̨̳̣̖̟̟̙̦͢ͅǫ̥̦̙̭̗͉̯́͡ ̧̠͙̠̗̻͕͍̯̥͕̞̣̲͙̤̞̜̀ͅg̢̨̕͢҉͙̳̹̣͔͍͎͓̜͔̮͇̥Ę̶҉̛̗̘̯̮t͕̯̙͙̼͔͍̳͓͖̟̗̫̠͠ ̛͜͠͏͙̖̗̝̖̖͓̣̦̻͍̟͓͇̬̠̕ą̷̶̶̻̫̤̩̺̲̜̳̫̪͔͖̯̳̲̟̣͝ͅn̜͕̭̠͢͟Y҉̸̖̼͇͍̙͉̲ ͢͏͈̟̟̭̥̬̖̖͈̱́͡B̡̛͇̖͍͖̰̱̗͙͍̩́͠ͅe̵͝͏͈̮̲͈̹͓̲T̷̶̢̫̤̮͓̗͟t͠͏̵̗̟̹͍͔͔è̩̮͓͙͓̟̬̜̦̠͘R̛͏̘͓̖̫̲̦̯̟̠̯͚̣͍̞̲̘̱.̨̡̡̛̲̳̹̹͉̦͎͇̩̱͉̱͚͔̀ ̡͢͠͏̥̟̫̙̹̗̠̙͜ͅt̡̞̥͕̟̲̹̭̳͇̘͇̦̪̻̖̱̜͠H̺̫͕͙̗͔͡͠͞I͏̸̷҉͉͓̠͖̹̘͚̰̺̺͖͕͉̥̺͘ś̵̶҉̝̪͈͖͈͙̩͈̤̳̭͎̞͝ ̴̧̠͎̻̻̺̘͍́͠ì̢̯̼̫̖͓̭͚̙̭̼͇͍͔͓͈̥͟͢ş̴̰͖̹͎̫̮͙̳̠̙̺͓ ̷͙̻̲͟͞w̡͚̮͇͚̼̝̕h̵̨̨̥͙̟͔̻̯̭͍͈̝͓̥̩͖́͠a̸̤͉̮͉̣̲͈̥̗̯͍̭͙͜͢͡t̷͏͎̱̮̣̻̥̹̝̗ ̪͔͉͓͙͎̦͓͉͡͝W̸͉̭̩͔͚̝̺̦͔̳͓͝e̞͎̖̤͍͉͔̰̻̕͞ ̸̧̯̫̬̟̪̮̼̰̰͕̺̠͔͕̪̤̹͙͠ḽ̛̦̯͓̼̭͉̗̘̀̕͝I̧̬͓͎̰̜̲͞v̧̹̭̝͇̱̦̜E̸̡̨̟͓̹̮͜ ̶̛̗̠̳̭̪̥͙͢w̕҉̷̷͕̻͓͖̖̙͍̠͙̖͈͈͔̜̱̤͕͚̣̀i̶̴͓͔̤̱͖͍͇͉̜͍͔̮̗̳̠̖͢͜Ţ̫͖̗͔͔͔͇̠̪̤̥̬̬̣̩͢͝ͅh̸̺̻̲̙̘̣̝̰͕̫̦̯͚͈̀̀̕ ̡́͢͠҉̦̮͇̞̰n̵̛̺͚̜̦̗̠͉̫͜͡O̸̧̬̪̟̪̭͇̜͝͡ͅW̴̧̭͉̟̼͖̘͎̭̦̙̩̞͚͈̮̣̗̯͙͠͝͠.̦̹̺̯̟͓̦̳͢͠.̸҉̘̘̖͖̬̬͙͙͎̩̯͕̯͉͓̱̺͉͓͝.҉̶̨̹͓̭͎̺̹̟̬̩͔̼̭͈͔̩͇̘̕͘
Kothlis. She didn't know how she ended up on Kothlis, but it wasn't the first planet under Galactic Empire control that Helly had toured through. The venue was small and indoors, smoke filling the air in front of the stage. The audience was a mix of the few dozen front row enthusiasts and the patrons who sat at tables behind them, some hardly glancing their way.
Behind her was the rest of her band, still testing their equipment before she gave the go ahead. There was Fraylen, not the same wide-eyed boy filled with wonder she grew up with on Coruscant, but he had stuck with her despite their frequent disagreements. Then there was Raska, a Codru-Ji who had never once voiced a complaint for as long as Helly had known her. And finally, in the back on the drums was a Kaleesh by the name Sandoru. Helly had her gripes with him, mostly that he couldn't care less about the passion and cared far too much about the money. He was good, but she wouldn't cry over losing him.
She spotted a young human boy seated close to the stage as he immediately froze up, his slack-jawed expression giving her at least some kind of entertainment there. The Galactic Empire had never been great to her band, Hartlite, and yet there was still a standout group of fans that insisted on them touring there. Seeing that boy look at her with such intense admiration at least reminded her of that as she winked at him and smiled.
Taking her violet-and-pink-swirled mic off of its stand, she began pacing the stage with it. "How's everybody doing tonight?" she asked, getting some cheers from the audience up front as more from the back began to turn their way. "Last time we played, it was at this packed stadium on Coruscant, right? It was like this big finale of a concert, fans from all over the galaxy came there to see us in this one final showing of the season. And lemme tell you, we rocked that stadium that night. Of course, that was when I still had my red hair." She gestured to her head of golden blonde as she got some laughs from the crowd. "I had a high like I'd never felt before, like this rush of adrenaline and I swear I must have cried on stage at some point, but I couldn't tell you when because it was all so incredible."
She scratched her head and then made a sweeping motion with her hand. "And now I'm wherever this is!"
The front row burst into laughter while some of the patrons in the back instead gave her a glare, including some rather official-looking men in their imperial uniforms. She didn't know why there were imperial officers at a punk rock concert, but maybe it was their only night to get drunk. Either way, they had to know that their city was no Empress Teta.
"I like it, though, I like it," she lied. "It's... close. Intimate. Minimalist. And any other flattering words I can use for small and cramped." At the sight of the increasingly disruntled patrons, she quickly moved on. "So tonight, we've only got time for six songs before they kick us out, but one of them's probably your favorite, so get excited!"
Helly looked around at the rest of her band, Fraylen and Raska on either side of her and further back so she could stand out as the frontwoman. After that all gave her a nod, she spoke into the mic, "This first song we've got for you, you might have heard of... It's called Wary."
The fans in the front all cheered and shouted, reminding her of a real concert if only briefly.
"Yeah? Ya like that one?" Helly said with a wide grin as she stuck her mic back on the stand. She raised one hand above her head and snapped as loudly as she could, getting Sandoru to tap his drumsticks three times before she heard the instruments blaring from the speakers behind her.
"You ruined mine, so I ruined yours, but let's not forget them's just- the- breaks!" As she sang, she couldn't help but notice the watching eyes of a scrutinizing officer. It threw her off for a moment, but she decided to go with it, pointing directly to him as she continued. "You needed me, but I wouldn't have it- And now you're back and you feel- so- fake!"
The glare turned into a snarl, one of his fists clenched into a ball.
"I could've told you- that you'd end up broken and distressed. But you couldn't hear me- 'cause your voice drowns out all of the rest. So tell me how to live, tell me how to speak, tell me all the ways you couldn't be! And I know it's a little scary, but you've got me fee-ling so wary!"
"Are you speaking to me!?" the officer shouted over the music, clearly having had a bit too much to drink. "Is my presence UNWELCOME!?"
As the rest of the band kept playing, Helly addressed the man as all the attention had been drawn to him. "Whoa, chill, I'm just having some fun."
"And I'm just trying to RELAX! I don't need to be INSULTED by the ENTERTAINMENT! Do you even realize who it is you're speaking to!?"
"No," Helly replied. "I'll be honest, you all look pretty boring and samey."
The officer reached for the holster of the blaster at his side as the music ended abruptly, the crowd suddenly scrambling about in a panic.
"What, are you gonna shoot Hartlite or something?" Helly asked. "I'm sure that'd go down great for your reputation!"
"Helly," Freylen hissed at her. "Stop provoking him!"
Helly wasn't having it, turning to him in anger. "He's just trying to control us like they do with everyone here! What kind of image do we want where we just bend over for the Galactic Empire!?"
They both turned back to the audience at the same time as the officer yelled out in distress, the same boy she had winked at earlier jumping on him. In just a moment, it was over as a blaster bolt shot into the boy's chest from a stormtrooper standing guard by the entrance.
Helly's eyes widened in horror as more of the crowd was fired upon, feeling Freylen's hand pulling on her own.
"Let's go!" he said, pulling harder until she complied, practically being dragged along with the rest of the band that was already ahead of them in exiting the stage. Back behind it all where they were safe from stray shots, Freylen pushed his hands through his curly head of brown hair, shaking it from side to side.
"You can't do that here, Helly," he told her. "You know that!"
"Get me out of here," she said, still barely able to hear her bassist behind the curtain of shock that blocked her out from the rest of the world. "Tell Trayt we're never coming back here again."
"Of course we're never coming back here again," Sandoru exclaimed as Helly merely shook her head.
"No, we're never doing another show for the empire. Ever."
"Rest up on the ship and we can talk later," Freylen said, placing a hand on her shoulder that she backed away from immediately. Instead, she made her way away from the rest of them, stumbling momentarily while putting her hand on one wall for stability.
The Hartlite cruiser was always a work of art, a flying mural painted by Helly herself. Back when her band was just starting to get off its feet, she wanted everything she had to feel like she did. She wanted everyone to know what Hartlite meant to her. It wasn't especially large or intimidating, but the bright colors made it stand out anywhere they went. She was especially proud of the skeleton holding a single orange flower on the very front of it. It was perpetually winking, forever flirting with the prospect of love.
She wanted to wash it away, tear off the paint with her own nails if she had to. It was a reminder of what she had done, what she was responsible for. Days had gone by since she witnessed it, her hair had gone from gold to silver, and she hardly left her quarters.
For a moment, she walked by her window to watch hyperspace go by outside, wearing only a black turtleneck dress. She never wanted to reach her destination. Even if she was no longer in Galactic Empire space, all she wanted was to waste away at that time. Coruscant would only be able to do so much to ease her mind.
A banging came to her door, giving her cause to roll her eyes and sigh. "Come on in..."
Hartlite's manager, a Chagrian man named Trayt, sauntered inside, giving her a fake smile as she sat down on her bed.
"You changed your hair," he said.
"I always change my hair," she replied. "Never complained about it before."
"I'm not complaining," Trayt insisted, walking closer. "I just noticed that it isn't as colorful as it's been."
"Why did you come to see me, Trayt?"
The manager nodded his head slowly, saying, "I've only come to check if you still stand by your decision."
"It's never changing," she said. "You can't force me to go back to that place."
Trayt shook his head gently. "Nobody is forcing you to do anything, Helly. But from a business standpoint, we need these trips to the Galactic Empire or we'll be losing galactic notoriety."
"You know how many people there are who would approve of this?" She knew that arguing emotions would never work with him, so she could only hope that public relations would instead. "How many people even like the empire? I'm willing to bet it's just the empire. We distance ourselves from them, we gain respect. If I could only play in Coruscant for the rest of my life, I'd be satisfied."
"Well it's a good thing that won't happen," Trayt argued. "The galaxy needs to know of you, of Hartlite, of your art. Robbing the fans who happen to be in the Galactic Empire of that would be tragic. It isn't their fault, is it? Would you want to see an even duller empire emerge as a result of musicians such as yourself refusing to splash some color into their lives?"
"Maybe I'd like the Galactic Alliance to shine a little brighter instead. And the coalitions. And Mandalore. I can't fix the empire. I can't fix anything. Put your faith in something more if that's what you want."
Trayt took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, dipping his head down. "If that's how you feel... I can only make suggestions, after all."
"Thank you, Trayt," she said, bowing her head. "I promise you this will be a good thing for us."
Trayt bowed in return before leaving back through where he came. The moment the door slid shut, Helly collapsed on her bed and stared at the painted ceiling. It had the stadium in Coruscant she had said so many great things about all across it, painted soon after her last concert. Her last real concert.
Part of her wished that she could stay at that concert forever. All of her wished that she had never gone to Kothlis.
Behind her was the rest of her band, still testing their equipment before she gave the go ahead. There was Fraylen, not the same wide-eyed boy filled with wonder she grew up with on Coruscant, but he had stuck with her despite their frequent disagreements. Then there was Raska, a Codru-Ji who had never once voiced a complaint for as long as Helly had known her. And finally, in the back on the drums was a Kaleesh by the name Sandoru. Helly had her gripes with him, mostly that he couldn't care less about the passion and cared far too much about the money. He was good, but she wouldn't cry over losing him.
She spotted a young human boy seated close to the stage as he immediately froze up, his slack-jawed expression giving her at least some kind of entertainment there. The Galactic Empire had never been great to her band, Hartlite, and yet there was still a standout group of fans that insisted on them touring there. Seeing that boy look at her with such intense admiration at least reminded her of that as she winked at him and smiled.
Taking her violet-and-pink-swirled mic off of its stand, she began pacing the stage with it. "How's everybody doing tonight?" she asked, getting some cheers from the audience up front as more from the back began to turn their way. "Last time we played, it was at this packed stadium on Coruscant, right? It was like this big finale of a concert, fans from all over the galaxy came there to see us in this one final showing of the season. And lemme tell you, we rocked that stadium that night. Of course, that was when I still had my red hair." She gestured to her head of golden blonde as she got some laughs from the crowd. "I had a high like I'd never felt before, like this rush of adrenaline and I swear I must have cried on stage at some point, but I couldn't tell you when because it was all so incredible."
She scratched her head and then made a sweeping motion with her hand. "And now I'm wherever this is!"
The front row burst into laughter while some of the patrons in the back instead gave her a glare, including some rather official-looking men in their imperial uniforms. She didn't know why there were imperial officers at a punk rock concert, but maybe it was their only night to get drunk. Either way, they had to know that their city was no Empress Teta.
"I like it, though, I like it," she lied. "It's... close. Intimate. Minimalist. And any other flattering words I can use for small and cramped." At the sight of the increasingly disruntled patrons, she quickly moved on. "So tonight, we've only got time for six songs before they kick us out, but one of them's probably your favorite, so get excited!"
Helly looked around at the rest of her band, Fraylen and Raska on either side of her and further back so she could stand out as the frontwoman. After that all gave her a nod, she spoke into the mic, "This first song we've got for you, you might have heard of... It's called Wary."
The fans in the front all cheered and shouted, reminding her of a real concert if only briefly.
"Yeah? Ya like that one?" Helly said with a wide grin as she stuck her mic back on the stand. She raised one hand above her head and snapped as loudly as she could, getting Sandoru to tap his drumsticks three times before she heard the instruments blaring from the speakers behind her.
"You ruined mine, so I ruined yours, but let's not forget them's just- the- breaks!" As she sang, she couldn't help but notice the watching eyes of a scrutinizing officer. It threw her off for a moment, but she decided to go with it, pointing directly to him as she continued. "You needed me, but I wouldn't have it- And now you're back and you feel- so- fake!"
The glare turned into a snarl, one of his fists clenched into a ball.
"I could've told you- that you'd end up broken and distressed. But you couldn't hear me- 'cause your voice drowns out all of the rest. So tell me how to live, tell me how to speak, tell me all the ways you couldn't be! And I know it's a little scary, but you've got me fee-ling so wary!"
"Are you speaking to me!?" the officer shouted over the music, clearly having had a bit too much to drink. "Is my presence UNWELCOME!?"
As the rest of the band kept playing, Helly addressed the man as all the attention had been drawn to him. "Whoa, chill, I'm just having some fun."
"And I'm just trying to RELAX! I don't need to be INSULTED by the ENTERTAINMENT! Do you even realize who it is you're speaking to!?"
"No," Helly replied. "I'll be honest, you all look pretty boring and samey."
The officer reached for the holster of the blaster at his side as the music ended abruptly, the crowd suddenly scrambling about in a panic.
"What, are you gonna shoot Hartlite or something?" Helly asked. "I'm sure that'd go down great for your reputation!"
"Helly," Freylen hissed at her. "Stop provoking him!"
Helly wasn't having it, turning to him in anger. "He's just trying to control us like they do with everyone here! What kind of image do we want where we just bend over for the Galactic Empire!?"
They both turned back to the audience at the same time as the officer yelled out in distress, the same boy she had winked at earlier jumping on him. In just a moment, it was over as a blaster bolt shot into the boy's chest from a stormtrooper standing guard by the entrance.
Helly's eyes widened in horror as more of the crowd was fired upon, feeling Freylen's hand pulling on her own.
"Let's go!" he said, pulling harder until she complied, practically being dragged along with the rest of the band that was already ahead of them in exiting the stage. Back behind it all where they were safe from stray shots, Freylen pushed his hands through his curly head of brown hair, shaking it from side to side.
"You can't do that here, Helly," he told her. "You know that!"
"Get me out of here," she said, still barely able to hear her bassist behind the curtain of shock that blocked her out from the rest of the world. "Tell Trayt we're never coming back here again."
"Of course we're never coming back here again," Sandoru exclaimed as Helly merely shook her head.
"No, we're never doing another show for the empire. Ever."
"Rest up on the ship and we can talk later," Freylen said, placing a hand on her shoulder that she backed away from immediately. Instead, she made her way away from the rest of them, stumbling momentarily while putting her hand on one wall for stability.
The Hartlite cruiser was always a work of art, a flying mural painted by Helly herself. Back when her band was just starting to get off its feet, she wanted everything she had to feel like she did. She wanted everyone to know what Hartlite meant to her. It wasn't especially large or intimidating, but the bright colors made it stand out anywhere they went. She was especially proud of the skeleton holding a single orange flower on the very front of it. It was perpetually winking, forever flirting with the prospect of love.
She wanted to wash it away, tear off the paint with her own nails if she had to. It was a reminder of what she had done, what she was responsible for. Days had gone by since she witnessed it, her hair had gone from gold to silver, and she hardly left her quarters.
For a moment, she walked by her window to watch hyperspace go by outside, wearing only a black turtleneck dress. She never wanted to reach her destination. Even if she was no longer in Galactic Empire space, all she wanted was to waste away at that time. Coruscant would only be able to do so much to ease her mind.
A banging came to her door, giving her cause to roll her eyes and sigh. "Come on in..."
Hartlite's manager, a Chagrian man named Trayt, sauntered inside, giving her a fake smile as she sat down on her bed.
"You changed your hair," he said.
"I always change my hair," she replied. "Never complained about it before."
"I'm not complaining," Trayt insisted, walking closer. "I just noticed that it isn't as colorful as it's been."
"Why did you come to see me, Trayt?"
The manager nodded his head slowly, saying, "I've only come to check if you still stand by your decision."
"It's never changing," she said. "You can't force me to go back to that place."
Trayt shook his head gently. "Nobody is forcing you to do anything, Helly. But from a business standpoint, we need these trips to the Galactic Empire or we'll be losing galactic notoriety."
"You know how many people there are who would approve of this?" She knew that arguing emotions would never work with him, so she could only hope that public relations would instead. "How many people even like the empire? I'm willing to bet it's just the empire. We distance ourselves from them, we gain respect. If I could only play in Coruscant for the rest of my life, I'd be satisfied."
"Well it's a good thing that won't happen," Trayt argued. "The galaxy needs to know of you, of Hartlite, of your art. Robbing the fans who happen to be in the Galactic Empire of that would be tragic. It isn't their fault, is it? Would you want to see an even duller empire emerge as a result of musicians such as yourself refusing to splash some color into their lives?"
"Maybe I'd like the Galactic Alliance to shine a little brighter instead. And the coalitions. And Mandalore. I can't fix the empire. I can't fix anything. Put your faith in something more if that's what you want."
Trayt took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, dipping his head down. "If that's how you feel... I can only make suggestions, after all."
"Thank you, Trayt," she said, bowing her head. "I promise you this will be a good thing for us."
Trayt bowed in return before leaving back through where he came. The moment the door slid shut, Helly collapsed on her bed and stared at the painted ceiling. It had the stadium in Coruscant she had said so many great things about all across it, painted soon after her last concert. Her last real concert.
Part of her wished that she could stay at that concert forever. All of her wished that she had never gone to Kothlis.
Saw you at Kothlis! Love what you did with the place!
Hey Helly, what's up? Heard about your little incident. Sure was a bloodbath, huh? I keep reading about it and... I wonder what the parents of those children thought? Can you imagine the grief? And what they must think of Hartlite now? Must be rough having that weighing down on your conscience all day and night. Bet you can't sleep. Bet you've been crying all the time, trying to get your mind off that blaster you've had sitting in your drawer.
I can relate.
I know what it's like.
You wanna know why?
Because that's what you turned me into. Now you know. You know everything, all the heartache, all the trauma, feeling like you'd never get over it.
You murdered me, Helly. Just like you murdered those innocent fans. That was your fault.
You know what I have left? Nothing. They took everything. You had a song written like this, right? I think it went...
You ruined mine, so I ruined yours.
Maybe I gave a heads up to some officers. I was only trying to save those poor fans from your manipulation. Maybe you'd take one backstage, maybe you'd tell her you loved her, maybe you'd tell everyone else that she was crazy. Have her taken away. Tear her heart out and eat it for everyone to see and mock and laugh at.
Your audience won't ever forget about me, Helly. And now they'll never forget about this.
I'm impressed, all things considered. It didn't even take you one whole song before you went and screwed everything up.
You're worthless. I hope you know that.
-Mona
UPDATE
Helly Reyne Going Purple?
We've mercifully been spared any news of the Hartline frontwoman for some time now, but that streak of good luck seems to be coming to an end as we report that Helly Reyne is set on backing the Confederacy of Independent Systems. The decision seems to go against some of her previously held beliefs, most of which were anti-war in nature. Could it be that the outspoken singer is finally showing her true colors?
When asked about the controversial decision, Helly had this to say: "A lot of people still buy into the anti-Confederacy propaganda, but when we really face the facts, the empires that stand today won't be held back by the most peaceful factions we have to offer. It's just not realistic."
Critics of Helly have a different approach to this situation, however, calling her out for resorting to what many of her fans would consider degeneracy.
"What we're seeing is a collective of some of the younger, less experienced celebrities and role models promoting these deteriorating morals and values," says Marnal Jesteff, a former Coruscanti representative. "It isn't surprising that people like Helly Reyne are turning to such desperation. It shows a lack of faith in the powers that be, and only serves to divide the resistance against these empires even further."
Helly Reyne has been a controversial figure ever since her rise in fame just a few years ago, from her alleged xenophobic tendencies to the reveal of her cybernetic interior. Is this just another notch on her belt of controversy, or is she in the right?
And of course, it can't go without stating the obvious: With Helly being a cyborg, does that play any role into the historically droid-oriented Confederacy faction? Will we see another push for "droid rights" with figureheads such as Helly Reyne backing it? The galaxy need only wait and see, but we can all hope that-
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̢̔ͨ̾ͩ̽͑͐̒͆͋̾̅͌ͨ͐ͪͦ̀̉͏̛͡͏̪͖͓̜̦̯D̶͇̦͔̦̥͇̩̻̰̂͗ͮ̑ͭ͌ͤ͆̍͛̌̓̓͑̚͜͞ͅͅA̷ͩ̃̽̆͆҉̢̳͙͔̻̖̥Y̸̍̑͂̄ͯͬ͐͢҉̵̷̭͖̫̻͙͙̣̹̙̺̘̯̭͍̙̺̟ ̴̢̨̼̤̣̝̭̠͈̪̤̞͚̹̫̞̣̩͇̽̽ͮ̍͗͗͐ͮ͋́ͯ̏ͧ̚Ā̛̦̖̬̭̝̖̤̝̦̜̠̟̼̟̺̓̓̅̉̉ͧ͘N̮̪̟̖ͬ̑̎ͧͭ͆̋ͨ̈́͗̆ͥ̏ͧͪ̚͞͡D̠̫͖̥̱̝͇̲̜̪̪͈̟͉̤͕̩̘ͬ͂̈́̄̾ͭͣͨ̊̌̇͌̔ͪ̀͡ ̢̨̛̼͇͕̫̗͓̥̟̭̺ͮ͑ͭ̿ͤM̧̻̮͕̦͈̝̥͙̺̓͗ͫ̓͒ͭͧ͌̿ͫ̃̎̈́͜ͅI̶̴̱͖͉͎͕͕̜̯̞̻͔̼̤̪̙̿̓͆͐̀̒ͭͨ̎͝͠Ņ̠͙̙̭͈̮̹̃ͨ͊͛͂ͭ̑̈́̽̂͆̏̃̑̓̀͘͜D̸̛̖̳̘̤̻̼͙̘̭̱͉͍͔̜͋̏̾̅͜ͅ ̧͇̙̺̟̼̼͔͔̙̭̑͒̒̋̃ͭ̓ͧ̊̇́ͣͬ̆̔͘T̵̝̟̳̻͔̮̘̘̭̩̦͙̓ͦ̾ͭͤ͗̑̎͜͟͟͝ͅÖ̴̧́ͭ͛̿͂͒̔͌́̉̾ͨͥ́҉̪̻̼͍̰̳̱̗ ̶ͥ̊ͩ̂ͬ͆́̿ͪ̽̐͞͏͎͔̥̩̹͎̯̬͈̟̱̟B̼̹͕͓͎̠͎̻̳͕̞̼̘̦̜̞̍̋ͣͩ̊͂̍̽̈́͒͆͆̽̓ͧ̚̕͜͜͠ͅĘ̭̲͓̬͇̭̰͂ͣ͐ͬͬͩͧ̏̋̚͢͟ ͙͍͇̬̭̟͙ͧ̈̄̀́̚ͅR̡̢̡͔͙̟̝̥̫͍͕̜̤͓̱̓ͤͬ̈͗͂ͤ̋͌̈̎͟͝Ę̸̷͈̥̙̯̮̖̹̹̹̣̟͓̟̗̭̞͚̹ͨ̓͆̃ͧͥ̏͛̌̏̔ͣ͋̚Ṗ̵̻̠̭͕̼͈͓͚̞͓̦̤̹͙̬͈͂̆ͥ͛̄́͘ͅͅͅR̡̿̒̌́̏ͧͫ̅̇͘͏͉̳̹̝E͆ͭ͐ͥͩ͏҉̘̙̣̫̻̻̰͜Ṣ̵̸̮̤̞̮ͮͪ̇̇̓̃E̷͊̏̆̅̇̈̊͋͌̐̀͋ͩ͘͞͡҉̠̩̰͎̼̤Ņ̧̛̜̟̰͉͉̦̦͋̉̃̆̅ͣ͒̇͒̓̌̀̍ͣͭ̉̈͟Ť̸̡͕̪̗̟̙͓̜͎̮͓͇ͫ͆ͬ͐̉̃ͣ̍̀̈́̈́ͣͪͮ̔̆ͅĘ̨̝̲̖͖̥̮͙̮̻̱̺̮͔̦̯̭̈̓̎ͯͤ̀̿̂́͂̽́ͮ̏̐̚̚͝ͅD̼̝͙̲͇̲̼̦̲̤̲͍̪̑̎͌̂ͦ̾̍̕ͅ ̾̎ͫͦ̑̀ͩͥͪ̓̋̾҉̡͟͏̜̞͓̖͠ͅB̢̫͈͔̯̱̬̘̖ͫ̅̋̏ͤͫ̂͋̈́̀̍ͯͩ͡Y̸̴̶̾́ͬͯ̋͞҉̣̣̝̥͉̰͎͕̤͉̥̘̭͙̥ ̯̭̱̦̣̭̹̫̼̞̠̬̮͓͚̝̗͆ͯͥ̍ͤ̇̃͐̅ͭ̀͋ͭͧͮ̀̀̚̕͡͠W̨̝̳͔͓̫̼̯̙̯̟̦̻̘̟ͧ̿̓̓ͬ͋͗̐̏͊͊̂ͯͦ̔ͩ̑ͩ͆̀͜͠͞ͅͅͅH̡̟̤̞͉͍̿ͮ̀̈̏̆͗ͣ̀̚Ò̶̞̻̠̻̻̯̠͇̱̫̪͈̜͚̣̳̖̩̈ͮͣ̉͋̾ͭ̆̾̉͢R̐́ͪͫ̐͌͛͗̅̈́͑ͮ̂͘҉̷̤̬̲̩̗̙̬̖̣̜͉Ẹ̶̺̱͓̩̺̤͓͖̪̗̙ͪ͆̅́̃ͨ̌̄̀̃̑ͪ̈̅̂̃́S̴̢͎͖̝̫̲͍͔̣̝̈ͬ̂ͬ̅͛̌͌̎ͦ͒ͬͨͪ̌̕͜ͅ ̸̨͓͉͉̼̹̺̞̮͈̌̈́ͬ͆͋̽̌̈́̃̕A̴̶̸̮̦̦̘̹̤͕̘͂͂̍̅ͩ̎̈́ͮͭͬ̍͂̈́͑͆̑̏̍́́́Ņ̡̩̗̮͍̰̩̤̦ͥ̀́ͪ́͞D̵̷̠̼͕͙̺̱̰̹̭̯͇̤̬͉͙͕̦͔ͬͪ͋̚͘ ̡̹̦̱̦̗̇͒̉̆̆͛͂ͦ̓̐̆̊͐̔ͧ͛̀ͅH̸̛͎̮̫̮̣̻̟̝͑͋ͥͫ́͌͗̕͠A̧̺͔͕̟̻ͣ͛͒̒͊̽͟R̩͚̜̖̘͖͓̬̦͔͒͆̏̈̅͂̆̓ͬ̿̎ͮ̽̈́ͭ̚͟L̷͗̃ͯ̍̿̓ͦ͂̍ͭ̌̌̂̚͢͏̦͖̪͉͓̠̬̦̲̬̲͙͔̲͔̥͈̣̹O͓̰̠̫̼̰͒͆́ͫ̕T̍̽̌̈́ͮ͐͏̡̹̥̹͇͚̲̰̹͍͉͙͕̭̝̺͙ͅS̡̢̞̺͙͈̙̮̺̥̹̣̘̩̤̘͓̭̭͇͚͊͛ͮ͋ͦ̉ͫͧ͋̇̓ͩ̿̄ͫ̚̚͘͟ ͭ̍̋̍͋͂͐ͧͪͥ̍ͫ́̚̚͏̰̝̖̠͎̱́F̢̰̩̞̭̳̠̮̳̫͚̭̥̻̯̟̻̠ͤ͊ͬͦ͋̾ͨ̌̉͛̏̂͑ͥ͋ͧͨ̊̔͘͜͠ͅͅO͉͖͚̱̝ͫͮ̒͗ͬ̿̃ͣ̇̀̈͒ͨ͗͐͘͢R̵̡͉̤̦̲̳̝͙̭̪͈̺͐ͨ͌̈̉̉͋̃̍̍͒̔̀̾̈́͐̏ͨ ̵͖͎̻̩͍̠̟ͫ̿̐͐͗̆͆ͤ̕F̸̑ͣ̌̓͞͏̜͔̦͈̹̞̺͔A̸̡̧̖̼̤̣̯͚̰̼͎͎̩̯̫̬̬̙̗͇͉̎̉͒̓̆̈͌͑̈͐͞͝I̢̯͇͉̼̗̼̫̲̲͙̤͓̹͎̱̻̋̐͒̍́T̴̵̯̱̻̝̭̱̉ͯ͑ͫͫ͗͝͠H̨̦͍͇̤̓͛̓̀ ̷̞̖̫̬̲̣̪̠͕͚͙̜͚̩͍͆ͦͭ̏̏͛ͩ̅͟A̵̧̛͇͎̥͖͚ͨ̂̋͛͛͂ͫ͋͠N͚̳͇͍̥͉̮̻̣͓͇̥͇̭̗̖̫̫̈̌ͫ͐͒̓̏ͤͣ̾͗̅̌̓ͮͨ͌̇́̀͟Ḍ̛̤̙̤̭̖̲̹͕͎̙͇̗̙̜̓̏̅̇ͮ͗̌͊̍̓̎́͗ͣͅ ̵͖̳̗̯̍̽̎͆ͬ̓̓ͤͥ̓́Ģ̗͙̦̖̘̥̬͇̰̺̪͖͕̅͌ͬ̓͗̔̈̉ͭ͡Ȍͩ̽̆͋͌̓͌̅̏҉̵̵̣̳͇̺̭̪̺̕͡Ọ̷̷̷̦̙̠̥̱̫͒ͭ̾ͪͮ̆ͤ̋ͧ̾̔̚D̢ͨ̓̃̍̍̊̉̉ͧ̕͢҉҉̝͍͍̗̗͇̫̞͙N̷͓͇̹͎̮̤̬̪̲̺͚̼̩̊̍̐̒ͨ̍ͦ̓͐ͣͩ̃ͩͭ̄̍Ḙ̜͕̦̗̦̪̊ͪ̌ͦ́̿ͧ̓ͧ̀̎̽͌̆͛̓̚͡͠S̴͓̰̯̮̫̰͔̖̒̽̋͂̾ͨ̎̾̿̀ͬ̈̈́̑́̚͘͘S̨̨͔̩̗̦̹̲͈̺ͥͪ͐̌́̏̑ͦ̀͞͝ ͕̤͈͎̭ͨͮ̀̑̎ͥ͛̑̓ͦ̐͑͜͞͝Ṯ̶͇͖̯̳ͮ̈ͫ͆ͥ̎ͣ͒̈́͐͑ͧͭͮ̿͜O̴̢̡ͭ̋̐ͯ̓̐ͮ̓͛͐̔́̚҉̬̜̻͎̝ ̷̨͖̲̙̩̪̞̹͓̣͎͓̰̝̺͈͔̪ͣͫ̃̀̓̔͛͛͒ͦ̓̀͜͠B̴͗ͨ̀͋͂̈̈́̂ͯ̀̿̄ͪ͘͝҉͙͔͇̘̖͔̼̥̜̯̳̬̻͙E̸̜̣͔̫̯͍͓̱͕̓̀̆̌ͦ͗̇ͥ͆̔̐̃̆̽͗̇ͯ͐̊́͜͠ ̔ͬ͆̅ͤͨ͆̋ͫ̒ͬ̈́̒ͭ̃͌̉̏̚͜҉̫̟̩͈͔͔̭̼̣̯̼̣̥̩͘ͅS̢͔̰̦̠̗̻ͭ̒ͪͪͬͪ̅̂̾̓͋̒͟͠H̳͓̺̩̺͍͈̟̘̳̩̹͍̝̻̩͈͖̘͆͛̊̍͂͑ͫ͑ͫͦ͊̊̔ͤ̿̓͡Ȁ̵ͩ̄̔̔̀̐̏̚̕҉̯̯̗̫͎̦͖̳̪̠͖̙͕͓͎̼͙̖T̷̸̸̪̣̮͖͉̤̯͈̰͇̿ͯ̓̆̅ͣͯͩͬ̊ͬͬͅ ̵̴̭͙̝̹̣̟̞̩̠̤̹͈̗͕͎͈̳̠ͥͯ̅ͧ̓̅̆ͫ̅̆͜Ȯ͛ͥͭ͑̀ͤ̔ͮ̂ͧ͊͊̊̇͆ͮ͟͏̤͇̳̖͈̩͙͕̯͓̹̙͈̹̦ͅͅͅŅ̤̪̳̮͎̹̮̝̥͔̝͒̄̈́̒̐̚ ̷̭̗̱̞͇͔͍̪̬̤̙̙̞̙͍ͮ͑ͫ͐̐Ã̢̐ͪ̂̀͗̈́̑̊ͨ̃ͩͪ͡҉̳̹̩̹͚̲̤͕̬̳͔̗̣̗͔̲̕͟ͅNͣ̆̈͞͝҉̧̥̣̟̥͕̼̳͕̰̗D̙̤̟̘ͯ̓̔͑̕͟ ̸̧̢͈͎̘͇̟͍͔̟̱̜̫͙̫͕͖͖̋̈́ͬ͋̑̅̄ͤ̄̚͞D̛̫̪̮̣̱͚̬̲̞͉̮͛̌ͭͩͬ̌̐͗̓̕͝ͅR̵̖̘̙̜̱̞̫͖͔̽̌̔̆ͨ̿ͪ͑̿́͜͞A̦̤̠͈͚͚̭̞̬̫̺̗͎͙ͭ̑̇̓̾̆ͨͪͮ͐ͫͮ̈́̂͊̈́̀͟Ģ̷̴̡͈̼̤͍̜͎̹̰͆̅͊ͯ̒̓ͫͬ͆̋ͤ̀͋̈́͌ͥ̏ͮ̚͝G̢͓̘̠͈̩̪̩̅̄̐ͨ̊̒Ę̷̝̪̬̭̳̠̟̞̗͚̼͙̹̫̫͈̥̭̎ͣ̎̽̔ͬ̚͞ͅḐ̶̜͕̩̖̙̩͇̠̠̻͆͌̍̓ͫ͑̃͑̄͋́ͧ̈͊̏͝ͅ ̡̫̬̤̤͖͔̯̲͚͋̔ͤ̄̍͐̓̓͟T̨͙̲͎̬̰̙͎͕̺̳̫̙͕͍̜̥̮̺͙̈̏̓͂͢͜Ȟ̵̰̝̰̳̭͕͚̪̼̫͈̾̋̈̎ͯͬ̉͐̿ͩ̓͐̀͒̉̉͆͘͜͞R̨̛̼͔̳̤͓̰̳ͭ̊ͨ̍͒́̄͐Ô̶͔̪͎̠͈̩̰͕͍̹͓̯̎̎ͮ̋̒ͫ̏̏̉͑̈ͫ̆͡͡Ṷ̫̩̗̼̹̦̒ͭ̀͛ͧͩͬ̂͑̈́͞G̴̴̥̣̮͇̦͉̦̪̬͚̩͉̗̠͎̺̟̾̐̒̎̉̎ͨ͌̕͟ͅͅH̛͖̜̺̺͎̰̼̱̽ͭ̅̍̋̅ͦ̿̅̃́͠͠ ̡̯̼̦͖͖ͨͣͭ̏̐͋́̿͂͜͝T̸̮̬͙̼̯̤͓̲͎͚͖̘̜̼̞ͫͦ͑ͬ̓̐̀ͥ͊͒͛̂H̨ͦ̆͐͛̈́͜͏͏͉̭̠̙̰Ḙ̷̸̫̜͙̙̟̥͙̻̟͍̤̳̜ͩͤͥ̽̊̔̀͒͋ͧͮͭ͛ͬ̑̈́ͨ͡ ̵̯͇̠̘͔͙̣͇͉̻̺̱̝̬̮̻ͥ͒̅̑ͤ̐̾̿͞ͅH̸̛̅̅͛̽̎̀̆̊ͭ̈͋̚҉̴̻̩͚̥̭̣̗̙̹͔̼̭͖͖͢ͅĒ̿̈́ͥͦ͂ͩ̓̅̚͝҉̭͕͇͎͈̺̳̀Ľ̡̹͙̠͔͖̹̔͋̇͋̎L̾͌̇̒͏͏̰̗͚̖̘͕̭̗̘͈̗̯̫̠̜̜Ȉ̼̖̮̊̓̐̉̾̑̊̐̀͝͝S̷̨̨͓͉͔̗̤̩͖̘͚̱̟̥̭͍͍̣̆ͦ̐̄̎͊̊̿ͦ̏̅͋ͬ̄ͩ͒̚̕̕H̷ͫ̓ͪ͂ͣ̓ͥ̅̇̈̑̓͑͌ͩ̋̚҉̡͙̭̳̣͟͝ ̢̦̗̺̳̤̜̜̲͉̬ͥͦ̄̆͌̆͢͢͞V̛̦̦͔̖̬̾̓̅ͬ̉̃̿̄̔̈́̈ͮ̎͋ͫ̆ͬ̀̕͝E̢̎͋̀ͫ̈́ͧͯ͢҉̻̗͎̣̖̀N̸͚͕̗͕̹͉̜̳̣͛̾̐̋̍̈ͯͤ͛̎̑̑͗ͮ͐ͤ̅͝T̨̧̫̭̥̤͍̦̤̠̣̰̘̙͚͋̉ͬͥ͛̀͟Ŕ̵͉̜̮͓̻͐͐ͩ͌̄ͪ̏̽̃͗͘͘Ì̛̯̞̙̻̪͎͎̺̹̗̾̓̀̕͟C̢̘̖͍̻̒̍͊̽̑͗ͨ̊̆̕Ḻ̩͖̣̯͙̲̲̂̒͑̔̄̊̃͂ͤ̊ͤͨ̅́̕E̢̧̢͚̯͍̺͙͕̠̙̭͍͉̘̹͙̍ͮͥ͒̾̒̍̓̄̃̔͠ͅṢ̴̢̧̗̮̤̼̲̞̺̤̼̰̽̍̎͒ͫ̓ͦͣͩ͝ ̧̖̥̼̲̬̄ͣͣͧ̈́̓͒̿̚͟͠͞͠ͅŌ̸̴̧̦̰̦̦͓̖̭̭̺̄͋̌̿ͥ͑̂ͯ͐̑͑̇̏̌́͘F̴̨̬̹̦̣͉̝̫̻̙͈̓́̇͑͛͛ͭͣ̑̀̕ ̷͖̰͔̙͇̺͙ͦͩ̋̑̎̎̐̅̒͘D̴̡̹͙͇̠͕̯̩̄̉̐̅̒̿͢E͛̄ͧ̔̑ͣ͒͑̆̉ͪ҉̵҉̲̣̠̠̯P̧͑ͯ͗͂͐ͬͭͧ͛̅ͣ̒͑̂͌̾̍ͧ̐͏͎͉͎̼͔̩̝̘͔̪͍̩̩̬̬R͎̮̰͈̥̠͕̜͙̲̪ͣ͊̆́̇͆̽ͫ̎̏̆͑̆ͯ̉̆͋̚͞͝ͅȀ̈́̏͋̃̈́̒̌̽̊̈́ͫͩ̉̆ͨ҉͕̟̣̫͙̰͎̘͇͜V̨̡͙̠̦͎̭̻̣͓̟̫͈̟̱́̌̀ͤ͑̎͂͂̑ͬ́̕͠Iͨ́̅́͑̈́̾̒̏ͮ̉̓̈́̚҉̡̠̯̫̮̣̲̦͉͉̭T̸̡̝͕̮͇̺̙̭͕͈͚̺͍̝̳̠̣͓̠̲̐́ͨͬ͋̎̓ͩ̎̀͜Y̠̠̘͔̯͚̏͂̊ͯ͛ͣ͛̓̀͢ͅ ̵͖͎̲̘̺̖̙̹̼̯̝̝̓̈́͊ͩ̋͊ͫ̚͝A̼͚͚͍ͮ͊̋̌̽ͤ͋̌ͩͫͭ̚͞͠N̞̪̹͉͉͇̳̜̺͉̗̭̟͚̥͙ͭͣ͗̚͘Ḓ̶̨̻͚̼͍͚̱̬͖ͭ̋̔̆ͭ̌̈́͐̀̕͜ ̷̨͉̘͎͍̳̩̖̱̇̽̍͜N̓̉͗͒ͯ̑͂ͩ̀̓͂̌ͦ̓̀́̌͋͗͢҉̬̙̞̩̟̼̺̟̦͖̖̭̪͚̣̩ͅÖ̸̡́͐̆̋ͭ̋ͭ̓͟͞҉̜͕͇̙̝N̸̰̲̮̬̭̓͛ͫͧ͐ͫ͛̂̓̈̓̾ͭ͂̍̾͗̕È̈̾ͬ͏̟̗̪̘͔̫̳͇́͜ ͐̈́̔͛͋̔̈̈̓͊̊̏́̇ͤͭ҉͏̹͕͎͇͕͚̙̮͙̰͙̟̗̬̺̘̟͍̀ͅW̢̛̯̰̳̭̭̲̗͓̬͉̤̲̤̖̽ͪ̆̽͌̓ͦ͋ͮͦ̇ͥ́ͭ̾́̕͡ͅI̸̴̶̔͑ͭ͐ͭ̋͋ͩ͏̺̱̤̺̩̙̩̥̫̺͓̙͕͖̠̀L̷̺̻͇̩̗͔̫̞͈̫̗̓ͦ͗͐͑͐̍̽ͪ͂̆ͭͤͭ͋̔͌̆͠͝L̵͇̭̠̱̝̰̥͓̳̥͈̹̰͂͆͂͆̋̽ͯ͌̓͌͆̐̕͝ͅ ̛͔̺̳̞ͬ̑̑ͩ̎ͣͬͥͫ̍̀̚̚͞B̧̟̤͕̦ͭͬ̔͛̏̐̿ͧͦ͊ͭͭ̑ͨͪͤ̚̚͟Ê̛̛̋̇̓͆ͮ̎͑͂̆͆̚҉̳̫̥̞̼͈̞.̦̟̘̖͎͚̦̟̘͖͉̯͚̰͈̗̠̉ͯ̀ͭ̊̉͑̈ͧ̉͜.̷̡̝̹̻̗̪̯͖͚̱͖̓̓͆ͫ͛ͮ͊̌͆ͥͫ̆̐́.̴̤̭͚̯̭̩̟͎̜̉̅ͬͦ̚͝ͅͅ
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