Console Cowgirl
Her plastic eyes fell on Yula Perl and Hacks' heart beat quicker. The last time she had seen her Hacks' had been an entirely different woman, yet much the same. Her foul attitude remained, but her body forever changed. Once a Denon mod-junkie with a penchant for abnormal enhancements. Now she strode on long metal legs, towering over even the tallest in the room, her body all plates and wires and tubes, a grotesque caricature of cybernetics gone too far. All that looked natural was her face, but upon closer inspection one could see the distinct indents of synthskin that ran in geometric shapes along her bone structure, and plastic eyes that never blinked.
Hacks had been furious with Yula in what felt like another life, believing the woman to have conspired with the Jedi to infiltrate Darkwire. Daiya had disregarded her as delusional. Hacks could taste the bitter irony, the Jedi now controlled her as a puppet, the yoke of SIA weighed heavy. Although she had lost her freedom and the last vestiges of her humanity, the shadow of her handlers gave her some leniency to wander the planet-city on occasion. Now she stood staring at Yula, an unwilling lapdog of the Alliance and the Jedi, hatred seethed.
A deep grunt left her clenched jaw and as she moved to find another bartender, only to see Yula retreat from the bar herself in a huff. Hacks shoved her way through patrons, then spying a girl who brought back a sense of familiarity, someone she had seen once before but forgot. She looked down at the blue haired teen and frowned, she tried to grasp where and when but gave it no more than a second thought, brushing past the girl and deeper into the club.