《March of Tin Soldiers》 Chapter 1 - Awakening Mans failure isnt to give up But to never overcome the fear nestling inside To let the wound fester Until every victory tastes like defeat The hour was late and the air thick with the stench of alcohol. The yellow light of streetlamps washed over a mans grizzly face through the dirty window as he sipped a glass of whisky on the rocks. His third this evening. A music box crackled in the corner of the bar, playing the same tune it always did this time of day for the past 20 years. The one constant that the old broken thing adhered to. The old rock tune was distorted beyond measure, but somehow soothing. Not to the ear, but to the soul. The man had a vacant look on his face. Indifferent and cold, he drummed his fingers rhythmically on the beat-up table. His messy mane of graying, black hair blended into the poorly lit interior, while a sprawling beard soaked any liquor that might have escaped his gob. Another sip. It was time to go. It really was. Most people had gone home already, getting ready for the struggles of the day to come after just a few shots to calm the nerves, but the man had no reason to go anywhere, but neither did he have any reason to stay. No reason to be anywhere, for that matter. He just drank, pushing any and all thoughts to the back of his head. Even the thought that he was being watched. Two men on the opposite side of the room were eyeing him for the past hour or so with this unnerving look in their eyes. They were measuring him in their drunken fever, assessing and plotting. A phone rang in the mans pocket. Once. Twice. He finally realized by the third time and picked it up. - What is it? - he asked in a deep, a bit raspy voice, befitting that of a decade-long smoker. - Where are you? - the voice on the other side answered with a question. It was a mans voice. A young adult, but with the confidence of a full-fledged man, and equal annoyance. - Whats it to you, Jason? - he grunted in return, putting the empty glass on the table with a thunk. - Are you getting shitfaced again?- he sighed. - And what if I am? Would that surprise you? - No. No, it would not. And thats why Im so fucking disappointed right now. - he shot back with a low growl. - Where are you? - Piss off. - The bar by the Fifth, right? Cool. Im picking you up in 20 minutes. - How about you pick up the hint and. Piss. Off. What do you even want from me? - Your brothers been calling you for the past 3 hours. Had to call me to get through to you. - And what made him think Id even answer you? - Did you not? There was silence, followed by a question. - What do you lot even want from me? Just leave me alone. - And let you drink yourself to death? Fat chance, old man. Pay the tab and get the fuck out. - Yeah, Im getting the fuck out of dodge. Good luck finding me, bloodhound. - he slurred angrily. - Dirk! The man froze for a second at the sound of his own name. - What? - he asked, his tone a bit milder. - What are you doing with your life? - What is life doing with me? Tell me. What the fuck did it do to me. - Right now it is giving you a chance, and you are sticking your fingers in your ears like a child throwing a tantrum. Wake up, you daft old fuck! - Goodbye - he exhaled the world and slammed his phone on the table. It really was time to go. He took a few banknotes out of his wallet and left them on the counter, his hazel eyes stuck on the exit like glue, his mind hazy, but his focus undisturbed. A delicate balance. Then, as he neared the leather-bound door, he felt something on his shoulder. A hand of one of the men who gawked at him earlier. - Im leaving. - he slapped the hand away and growled with an added bit of spite. Their eyes met, and though both were quite buzzed, there was a glint of something in the other mans eye. A sudden realization, mixed with anger. - I know you! Oh, I fucking know you! - the man, half a head shorter than Dirk with a stocky build and a bushy beard caught him by the collar and pierced him with scornful eyes. His breath reeked of cheap vodka, his thick Russian accent only further distorting his speech. - Well I dont know you, so fuck off! - he was ready to throw hands, but was caught from behind by the second man, a bear-like Goliath whose smooth, stone face betrayed only a ray of hatred. - You killed my brother! - the bearded ones voice got shaky, as did his hands when he shoved him back, further into the steel embrace of the giant behind him. Tears formed in his eyes, but he quickly rubbed them off with a sleeve. - You killed my FUCKING brother! - his voice tittered on the brink of rage and despair. - I dont know what the fuckC Dirk wanted to object, but got the wind knocked out of him as a powerful blow connected with his liver. - Take him outside, Yuri! - he commanded, slamming his due on the counter as well, as tears streamed down his face freely now. The door swung open with a bang and the cold winter air hit Dirk in the face like a cold shower. Fresh snow cracked underfoot as the behemoth pulled him into the street with ease. - I dont fucking know you! Fuck off! - Dirk protested, thrashing like a captured animal, but with each move the giants grip tightened. - But I fucking know you. - the bearded one repeated, hissing through gritted teeth. - I saw your ugly fucking mug on TV some years ago. Some hero they called you. Murderer. Murderer! He raved on in an alcohol-fueled delirium. His hand shot for his pocket and pulled out a knife, its steel blade glittering like pure gold in the yellow light of a streetlamp. Something peeked out from just under his fingers, right on the handle. Military markings. No mistake. - Im going to gut you. Cut you to pieces, like you did to my brother. My sweet Boris. My little brother! - he steeled his resolve as their eyes met once more. His hand steady now, he was ready to execute justice. The knifes point darted towards Dirks abdomen. - I told you, I dont FUCKING KNOW YOU! - he let out a feral scream and yanked his head backwards, right into his captors jaw. His grasp loosened, giving Dirk the chance to escape. He side-stepped the knife thrust and caught the bearded mans outstretched arm by the wrist. His grip on the blade was firm. Resolved, even. But it was no match for brute force applied at just the right nerve. Dirk slammed his other hand in the mans elbow, and with a snap it bent like a plastic straw. The knife fell to the ground and Dirk kicked it away on instinct, a split second before he had to dodge another grapple from the giant. The big guy had blood dripping from his lower lip, but otherwise was no worse for wear from Dirks last blow. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Now that Dirk got a better look at him, the man was truly intimidating. Gone was the mask of calmness, replaced by steaming rage. His teeth glittered as he bared them like a mad dog. The outline of his muscles were visible through his all-too-thin checkered shirt. If he managed to pin Dirk to the ground, it would all be over. The titan gave Dirk no chance to think and attempted another charge, this time lower, aiming for his midsection, but he jumped to the side at just the right moment to strike back at the mans leg. One good stomp to the Achilles tendon would be enough to incapacitate him, at least for a moment. But if it would only be so easy. Between the whisky relaxing Dirks muscles and the thick winter boots the giant wore, the blow glanced off, leaving him exposed for a moment too long. A sucker punch came from behind and easily connected with the side of Dirks jaw. He came tumbling down like a felled tree, just barely managing to break the fall with his hands. The men were upon him once more and in a moment of quick thinking, Dirk threw the powdery snow in their faces, blinding them briefly. Then in a desperate attempt to level the scales, threw himself on the shorter one, headbutting him in the stomach and knocking him back. Then came a flurry of blows to the opponents kidneys, most of which missed, but the connecting ones squeezed a pained scream out of the man. But that was simply not enough, and soon enough Dirk got shoved off by the larger man, losing all balance and sense of direction in the mound of freezing snow. Then came the pain. The sharp and radiating pain of being kicked in the stomach. Then again and again, until Dirk stopped feeling anything at all, by which point his vision turned black. He heard yelling. He heard cursing and the cracking of his own ribs, but felt nothing. He heard the roar of the engine and more yelling. Screaming. And then nothing. When he came to, Dirk found himself sitting in the back of a car, covered in a blanket and with a bucket firmly shoved between his thighs. His head bobbed up and down with each bump on the road as his consciousness was slowly catching up to his waking body. In a daze, he looked around the car, his eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness that reigned inside the vehicle, disrupted only briefly by rhythmic flashes of light from the outside. Light-brown leather seats greeted him from all around. Clean and evidently cared for, though their age was starting to show in the cracks at the edges here and there. The outside was dark, save for the occasional pillar of light that descended down from the streetlamps. He recognized this car he used to drive it once upon a time, after all. Dirk realized that the radio was playing quietly in the front of the car. Symphonic metal, as far as Dirk could tell, and that alone in his mind was a dead giveaway of whom the driver was. - Jason - he groaned, but was instantly interrupted. - Dont speak. Just focus on not throwing up. - Jason sighed heavily. - And if you do, aim for the bucket. - What happened to those bastards? - It doesnt matter. - he shook his head, showing just a bit of his chiseled features to Dirk across the car, then asked. - Why were they beating you up? Dirk took a moment to think. - It doesnt matter. - he answered with cold indifference. - I see - he nodded with understanding, drumming his fingers on the wheel, his knuckles visibly red. There was a brief pause. Engine noise, the spin of the wheels, the crackle of snow, the tapping on the window It had started snowing again. - Where are you taking me? - Dirk mustered up the strength to ask, though he already knew the answer. - To your brothers house. Dirk took an unsteady breath. - Why are you doing this to me? - his voice was shaky. - I dont want him to see me. Not now. Not like this - Then when? - Jason barked, slamming his hand on the wheel, making the car swerve just the tiniest bit. The little shock woke Dirk up from his stupor and he dove through the seats in a panic, ready to steady the steering wheel, but there was no need. The drivers platinum-blond pompadour didnt even waver in this short bout of chaos. - When will you wake up and live your life like a normal person? - Jason yelled a question dripping with anger and frustration. - Its not that easy, Jason. I justC - Just what? Its been five years, get over yourself! You are drinking your life away, and I just cant keep looking at that. Live! - You know what happened the last time I lived! - One failure does not define you. - It defined the end of so many lives. So many people who I couldnt afford to let down, but I did - Dirk fell heavily back to his seat, defeated. - So much went wrong that day Jason took a deep breath and ran a finger through the small hair-patch on his chin to steady his nerves. - Youve done more than anyone thought possible. You were perfect in everything you did. - And it wasnt enough. The rest doesnt matter. - Doesnt matter? - Jason looked back at Dirk. His golden eyes were full of a strange kind of pain hed seldom shown others. Not just sympathy mixed with disappointment that Dirks grown used to. No. This time, his eyes showed that he was hurt on a personal level. - So my life doesnt matter? - he scratched the outside of his hand nervously. - WhaC - You saved me that day, Dirk. Dont you remember? As the tower was being consumed by flames, you alone stayed to save some experiment nobody else cared about from my fathers lab. Does that not amount to anything? - his scratching got more intense, drawing drops of blood from his skin. - Jason, IC - Enough. - he said in a strangely calm tone as he realized what he was doing. He wiped the red from his hand as his veins glowed a faint golden hue, and the next very moment the shallow wounds were gone, as if nothing ever happened. - Fleece has been getting restless these past few days, and your nonsense is not helping. You are going to talk to your brother and thats that. Dirk sighed, but wasnt quite ready to admit defeat. - What am I even supposed to talk about? Its been years since Id last seen him. - I dunno. You can brag about how you got your ass whooped by some drunkards. Thats a nice conversation starter, if Ive ever heard one. - he snickered with a faint smile, having gotten his emotions in check. - So you''re gonna tell me what the hell that was about, or what? - The usual. - Dirk sniffled, his eyes drifting to the window on his side. - Disgruntled relatives of a dead soldier. The guy thought I killed his brother or something. - Did you? - Dunno. Maybe, maybe not. You tend to forget after a while. - So what, you let them beat your ass as some kind of misguided atonement? - What? - Dirk couldnt hold in a laugh. - No! No I just had one glass too many. Thats how the cookie crumbles, I suppose. - he shook his head in a quaint kind of amusement. - Dirk, they really were going to fucking murder you. - there was a hint of worry in Jasons voice, but he focused on the road. - But they didnt, did they? - he looked at Jasons face, seemingly looking for something which he didnt find, as the man looked forwards, unperturbed. - I guess. - he shrugged. - But enough about this old drunk piece of shit. What have you been up to? Its been ages since Id last asked. - Youve been too busy running away from the whole world, huh? - he jabbed in a playful tone, his mood lifting a bit. - Same old, same old the work at the warehouses boring as ever. I took up running in the mornings. Mostly to take my mind off things since, you know, it wont really do anything for me physically He took a deep breath, the corners of his mouth dropping a bit. - Datings been kinda shit. Every girl I meet just wants to hook up, and its grown old really quickly. Anything long-ish-term goes up in flames the moment I cant take them out for expensive dates every other day. Its like I get it. Im not exactly rich. I work at a warehouse, god dammit, but Im not struggling either! Cant we just chill together? Does every day in a relationship need to be this struggle to one-up the day before? It all feels so forced, so He started working himself up, but stopped the moment he heard Dirk chuckle. - To be young Just keep looking and youll find the one eventually. In a week. In a month. Maybe even longer than that, but you will, trust me. Youre a good man. - Dirk reached out and patted Jason on the shoulder. - What you should focus on now is being happy on your own Are you happy? The question stirred something in Jasons heart. He slowed down the car a bit, glancing at the man in the back seat with an unreadable expression. He opened his mouth, ready to speak, but quickly closed it shut. He shook his head and focused on the empty road once again. - I imagined the life outside a little differently, but its alright. Anything beats experiments day in, day out. - he gave Dirk a wry smile and reached for the glove box, pulling out a pack of gums. He offered one to the man. - Im good. - Im not. Your breath reeks. - Touch - he chuckled and quickly took him up on the offer. Chapter 2 - Homecoming - Were here. - Jason announced with a clap as he shut the engine down, letting the uneasy calmness take over the car. - That we are. - Dirk bit his lower lip, poorly trying to mask his anxiety. Jason got out first and waddled through the snow-covered sidewalk to the front steps of the old tenement that was their goal. Dirk followed soon after, having stripped himself of the blanket and leaving the empty bucket on the seat. The cozy warmth of the car quickly turned to a wicked winter bite as the cold night air hit the mans face - Shit - he let out with a big white plume of breath leaving his mouth. - Thats bound to sober you up some! - Jason let out a hearty chuckle along with a cloud of nicotine smoke, offering a cigarette to Dirk. - You smoke? - Dirk couldnt hide his surprise, his hand stuck halfway towards the offering, his mind deep in thought. - Spose I do. - he answered with a shrug, holding his ciggy in the corner of his mouth.- Gives Fleece something to do. - he snorted, amused with his own words, then shook the packet to catch Dirks attention again The grizzled man took him up on the offer and let his friend carefully light up the cigarette despite the howling wind. A stinging warmth filled Dirks lungs, and a wave of calmness washed over him like a mothers embrace. How long has it been since he last smoked? Minutes passed in a flash. The snowstorm was really starting to pick up, and it was getting unbearably cold. Dirk didnt even realize when he started tapping his foot between puffs. Was it to warm up, or was it plain stress? - If you are still worried, Im going too. He also wanted something from me, dunno what though. - That doesnt really make me feel any better. - He shook his head as he flicked his cig into the snow. - Youll have to suck it up then. - feeling it was high-time to move, Jason stamped out what was left of his own smoke with his fool and with equal parts concern and amusement tapped Dirk on the shoulder, ushering him in. The inside was little more than an old granite staircase with plain beige walls, immediately betraying the old communist-era roots of the building. Old lightbulbs, somehow unchanged for decades, cast a comforting orange light on each turn, easing Dirk into the inevitable encounter up ahead. Steps scrolled past, though, cold and uncaring for the mans plights and soon enough, the two men found themselves standing before a burgundy leather-bound door. A popular choice in these parts. - Wait Dirk squeezed his one final doubt through his throat that he suddenly found dry as dirt, just as Jason pressed the doorbell. It was too late, and he, a grown man, was forced to stand there in silence with his head hung low like a scolded child, straining his ears for the sounds of a small commotion on the other side of the door, bracing himself for impact. Something clicked, then shifted, followed by the sounds of turning mechanisms. The door swung open with an audible swish of the leather grinding against the gray floor covering inside. And on it, a pair of feet in black socks. - Well, well, well now, if it isnt my brother dearest! - a young man with short, dirty blonde hair said in mock surprise, a sparkle of joy flashing in his grayish-blue eyes. - Spare me. - Dirk exhaled, suddenly feeling as all his anxiety turned to ungodly exhaustion. His brother was always too eager to play. Too happy-go-lucky. Too Just too much for him to handle, and now that they stood face to face, Dirk had no choice but to face his annoying past that he so yearned to relive for years, and his shameful present. - No can do, bro. Cmere, gimme a hug! - he spread his arms wide and before Dirk could vehemently refuse, he wrapped him in a crushing hug. Dirk felt a pang in his heart that told him to return it, but he just couldnt bring himself to, instead settling for an awkward pat on the back that quickly soured when Dirk heard his brother, a whole head shorter, take a big whiff at his chest. - Hey, its not all bad! Aside from the stench of cheap booze, you dont smell like a complete bum! - he announced with glee as he jumped back into his apartment before Dirk could smack him on the head for his insolence. Over thirty, yet he still acts like a kid - Dirks mind hummed to him as he fought to stave off a smirk. - I still shower, alright? - Dirk retorted with annoyance, candidly smelling under his shirt. - Alright, where do you want the cargo, Samson? - Jason yelled from behind Dirk, picking him up under his arms like a house cat with little issue, leaving him no room to dawdle. He was no small man by any means, but Jason made it look trivial - Hey! - the man protested, but his cry fell on deaf ears as he was being carried in. - Throw him on the couch in the salon. The guest room is taken. - Taken? - if Dirks ears could perk up, they certainly would. - By whom? - Well, my dear broski, I dont blame you for not knowing with the whole radio silence you had going on and all, but Im currently engaged. My fianc has work early tomorrow morning, so try to keep it down. - But why is she in the guest room? - Dirk could not resist the question. - Were saving ourselves for marriage. - Samson snorted from the kitchen corner that shared the same room with the salon as he set the kettle and dropped a few bags of tea into three cups. His back showed as he worked, a thin ponytail swaying from side to side. A quaint contrast to his otherwise short hair. - Were just traditional like that, dont mind it. Traditional. - any other word would fit Sam better in Dirks mind, but then again What did he know anymore? - So? Why am I here? - Dirk finally managed to cough out as he was sat down on the comfy little couch, squeezed just between two cushions, one baby blue, the other sea green. The house certainly had a womans touch, alright. - Getting philosophical, are we? - Sam chuckled, tapping the top of the kitchen counter twice in amusement. - Sorry, I work in cybersecurity. Ask something more practical. - he joked. Jason sat opposite to Dirk in a little armchair that made his already towering frame seem even bigger, adding to the comedic effect. - So what is it? An intervention? - Dirk reiterated, wiping the moisture of the melted snow off his forehead. - Would you be mad if I said it was? - Sam didnt waste time, putting two cups of tea on the glass table in the middle of the room. - Yes. - Dirk answered with something between a bark, a growl and a low grumble. - Then it is an intervention! - Samson burst out into laughter as he scooted back to the kitchen for his own cup, then quickly returned with a stool, which he placed in such a way by the table that hed be able to get a good look at both of his guests as he spoke. - Alright alright, I see Dirk nodded his head with eyes closed, to all appearances lost deep in thought, then suddenly shot up from his seat in one swift motion. - Ill be going then. - Hold up, cowboy! - Samson grabbed him by the shoulder and sat him back down with a little force. - The least you can do is listen and drink that damn tea, it was expensive. - A tea from a bag expensive. - Dirk sighed, giving Sam an indiscreet look of confusion. - We live in an era of convenience, brother. Everythings bagged. And yes, it was expensive. Its Himalayan. - I assume that means its good? - he shot him an indulgent side eye, then took in a lungful of the teas nice aroma. - Youd assume right. - Jason interjected between sips. - Fine. Ill stay until I finish the drink, so say your piece quickly. - Dirk shook his head with a sour expression, then looked deep into the dark abyss of his cup. It really did smell nice, but there was no way hed admit it. - Just like that? No kicking and screaming? - Sam mocked with joy plastered on his face. - Dont make me burn my tongue by drinking faster. - Dirk grumbled under breath. - Righty-O! Onto the matter at hand. - he cleared his throat theatrically. - I found you a job. That line quickly got him a raised eyebrow from his brother. - Who said I needed a job? How do you know I dont have a job already? - I know you dont but Ill ask out of courtesy. Do you have a job? - Well I dont know, maybe you should tell me, since you know so much? Do I have a job? Bah! How would you even know? - Dirk shot his hands up in frustration, almost spilling his tea. - Being computer savvy pays off, dear brother, and Ive watched you go on with your hobo routine for far too long. - Were you spying on me? - Just checking the CCTV from time to time, is all. If it makes you feel any better, if you ever lost your wallet, I could probably find it just from the footage. - Fuck off - I will soon enough. Alright, enough digressing. Youre a jobless bum with no formal education and a whole suitcase worth of trauma. Your self-esteem is in the dirt and your will to do anything does not exceed the basic human functions of eating, shitting, drinking and sleeping. - Flatter me more. - Dirk scoffed, but his brothers words really stung. - And thats why Im getting you back in the saddle! - What saddle, you snot-nosed bastard? I am retired. RE. TI. RED. I dont even need a job to sustain myself. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.- You dont need the money, I can agree on that. But dont you feel like something is missing in your life? Of course you do. Look at yourself in the mirror, you sad sack of shit. Sams tone suddenly got heated - I dont even need to tell you that you are still hung up on that last fuckup of yours, or whatever you insist on calling it, but you have to get over it. Get over yourself. - Who are yC - I didnt finish! I used to look up to you, you fuck. You were like a superstar. Ares they called you. The god of war. Now, how fucking sad is it that the god of war drinks himself half to death daily because his fragile ego got hurt once. But you were something even greater than some god. You were my brother! My hero! And I cant fucking bear to see my hero self-destruct. I thought you were made of steel was I wrong? Was it just glass painted gray? He took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes that looked like they were on the verge of spilling tears, yet somehow remained dry. - I dont know why you took me in. One orphan taking care of another, as if your life wasnt hard enough at the time but we are brothers, sworn now and forever, and Id sooner die than sit and see you hurting. You got me everything I have now, and now its high time I paid you back. - Sam downed his tea in one gulp, and that seemed to calm his nerves. Dirk could not cough out a single word, his mind stuck between bewilderment, sympathy and nostalgia, that all tugged at him at once, threatening to tear him apart. - Do you know why I chose to bring you here today? - I dont. - there was a note of shame in Dirks voice. - Todays the fifth anniversary of your retirement. That means you are no longer barred by contract from any kind of military service. Well, not officially at least, but well get to that. - Is that really today? - Dirk stared dumbfounded at the bottom of his empty cup. He hadnt even realized. He lifted his gaze and looked his brother in the eyes. Sam smirked. - So I finally got your attention, huh? - gone was the torrent of emotions on Sams face, now replaced with a coy expression. Dirk didnt answer, his mouth slightly agape, but if anyone could ever read his expressions, it was Samson. And now the cheeky little bastard had all the attention he would even want. - I think Ill bask in this moment for a second. - Sam closed his eyes, a self-satisfied grin growing on his face. - Spill it. - Dirk urged him on, dropping all pretense that he wasnt interested. - Have you heard about Ouroboros? - Well, yes. Obviously. They were one of the leading chemistry cells of the Empires research and development program, though officially they were registered as a pharmaceutical company. I worked with them a few times in the past, for better or worse. They mostly created battle stimulants, but thats not what really got their name out there. They had a hand in making all those fucking monsters that now litter the entirety of wastelands from here to Old Moscow, like old traC He said matter-of-factly, but cut himself off, realizing a gaffe. - Sorry. - he looked towards Jason with an apologetic look. - None taken. - he leaned back in his tiny chair, arms crossed on his chest, but otherwise completely at ease. - But my father would probably like to argue with you. He made those monsters practically by himself. Any contribution Ouroboros made was either negligible or outright bothersome. - Right they were making drugs for the empire except not anymore. - Sam corrected. - It was in the newspapers some time ago. Apparently Judas Abalos, the de-facto founder and CEO of Ouroboros, had a little falling out with our dear old Emps and is moving all his assets overseas. A total exodus, you could say. - And hes just allowing that? - there was clear bewilderment in Dirks voice. That didnt seem right. - Theres a few decades worth of military secrets in that mans head. No sane ruler would let a man of his caliber just go. There was a knowing look in Sams eyes, but whatever was on his mind, he didnt let it slip quite yet. - The split was apparently amicable. - he shrugged. - Or at least thats what the media reported. But thats not important. What is important is the sensitive cargo making its way from our humble little City-24 through the Atlantic all the way to Ecuador in South America. The very cargo youll be guarding as a mercenary in two weeks time. Dirks eyes went wide, and if not for the fact that he finished his tea a long time ago, he would be choking on it at that very moment. - Me? A mercenary? - Well, why not? Theres nothing holding you back anymore. Or do you still have lingering attachments to old Emps? Sam looked expectantly at his brother, but heard nothing in return. He continued with a sigh, in a bit of a hushed voice. - You dont owe anything to anybody here. You were good at what you did, sure, but the Empire exploited you for its own benefit, just like it does to anybody. - Sam took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. - Look, Ill be honest with you. You said it yourself, theres a certain caliber of men that the Empire wont just let go, and you are one of them. They gave you a few years of vacation, how nice of them, but now theyll either want you back in the fold, or out of the picture. - he made a cutting motion on his throat. - Either way, I need you out of the country, and this gig is the perfect chance for you not only to disappear, but to start anew somewhere else. - What about you? - Dirk shot his brother a concerned look, still unsure about all this. - Im moving to Australia in two months. I already have everything figured out. Plans within plans, contingencies and backups. Ive spent the past few years on this, so the border-crossing will be nothing but a formality. But you you need to have something bigger behind your back. A deterrent. A patron in an ivory throne to rival the Emperor, and joining Mr. Abalos convoy is the perfect occasion for you to get one. - Can you even be talking about it openly like that? Somebodys surely listening. - Im feeding fake data to all the bugs in this apartment. Remember what I said, brother. Being tech-savvy pays off. - he tapped his nose with a grin. - That, and theres nobody here that I dont trust. Were all family. - he gave both the men a resolved look. Dirk nodded, accepting his brothers words as fact, while Jason froze for just a split second, apparently surprised, but seemed to warm up to the idea the very next moment with an absent look and a barely registrable smile. Dirk just nodded to himself for a bit, digesting what he heard at his own pace, but not betraying either his intentions, or emotions. Then he put down his cup that he was clutching so mindlessly for a while now. - You said through the Atlantic. Isnt that a little counterproductive? Why not go east? The Pacific seems more logical. Sam shook his head knowingly. - The convoy will be going on land. Whatever the cargo is, Abalos cant risk it getting lost at sea. And unfortunately for him, Kintsugi Union controls the Bering Strait, and they explicitly dont want him on their turf. - So the long way round - Yup. Through the Russian wastelands and Europe, then into the under-ocean highway Omega, and youll pop out in Brazil. From there itll be smooth sailing, if you dont mind the civil war. - Im used to those. - he shot back, rather unbothered. But two weeks of prep might not beC Doubt crept onto Dirks face, but momentarily turned to surprise as Sam reached towards him and tapped him on the belly. - Hard as rock. - Sam snorted. - A bit of flab, but you didnt skimp on training, did you? You can take a man out of the military, but cant take the military out of a man. - Did your cameras tell you that too? - I just had a bit of a feeling, a brotherly hunch you can call it. - Fine. Fine but whos to say theyll want me? - They are desperate spread all too thin in the chaos of a sudden move. They need people. Lots of them. They need fodder and are all too eager to pay mercs of all sorts to join their cause. - Whats the pay? - Oh, dont you worry about that. Enough to get a fresh start in most of the world. - he looked at Dirk meaningfully, delaying a bit to bask in his brothers anticipation. - Two and a half million. - What?! That much for a merc job? - Admittedly, they are probably expecting 75% of you to die in the wastelands. I cant blame them. Its pretty realistic. The sum is just a carrot on a stick. A golden fucking carrot with a diamond up top. - Doesnt sound very appetizing if you ask me. - Jason joked, getting a chuckle from the other men. - But just in case they are not impressed with your middle-aged Greek god abs, Ill be going along. As your weapon.- he added flatly. - Fleece wants me to see some action - Cant you just join as a merc? - I dont think it would go over very well with Ouroboros people if they saw the things I can shrug off. A mindless bioweapon, though? As you mentioned, theres plenty of those left over in the wastelands. Whos to say that you didnt nab one for yourself? - Jason shrugged his arms. - I still have my collar and the mask my father made for me. - Are you okay with this? - Dirks expression was unreadable as he spoke to Jason. - Okay? - the giant chuckled. - I need this, Dirk. I am going crazy. Theres only so much cancer I can put into my lungs before Fleece gets bored with that, and then Ill have a real problem. Bullets, flames and explosions Im not afraid of those, but once the genie''s out of the bottle, you cant put it back in. - his veins flashed a faint hue of gold, like a confirmation from Fleece itself that it was all true. - Fine. - Dirk nodded in contemplation. - Im in. - Im glad you came around to the idea. - Samson beamed at him with a radiant smile. - Well, whats done is done. I just wish I dunno. I wish I didnt get abducted, for one. - I never said I was creative. I just get things done. But hey, this job will be right up your alley. A relatively small team, lots of liberty in the field and working close to nature. - Understaffed, shitty chain of command and trudging knees deep in snow. I get it. What are the other catches? - Mostly annoying appearances. In bigger settlements, youll have to wear their uniforms and lug around weapons issued by them. - Worthless junk, probably. No matter, even trash can be lethal sometimes. Ill manage one way or the other. - As you always do. - Jason affirmed, picking himself up from the armchair. - Whelp. Since theres no more need for persuasion, Ill be going on ahead. Id feel a little bad if I didnt show up at the warehouse in the morning. I still need to hand in my resignation. - Persuasion? - Dirk mused. - I was going to kick your old ass if you were too stubborn. - the giant joked. Or did he? - Remember, two weeks. 1800 on Friday by the spire. - the younger brother reminded him, and Jason answered with a silent wave of the hand, then saw himself out. Now it was just the brothers. - So marriage, huh congratulations. - said Dirk with a single drop of guilt in his voice. - Its no big deal. We live together, eat together, pay the bills have been for a long while now. Its just to make it official. - Is she okay with the move? To Australia, I mean. - Im doing this for her sake, mostly. I had it planned for a long time, and now we can go through with it. - Now that you dont have to worry about me Dirk sighed out something between a statement and a question. - Thank you for not giving up on me. - Dont mention it. - Sam nodded. - If you feel like catching up on my life, Ive left a few dozen voicemails for you. - he got up and patted Dirk on the shoulder. - Now scram. Ive stayed way past my bedtime for you, you old fuck. - he added with a snicker. - Ever the sleepy little baby. It was time to go. To get ready. - Find me sometime after youre done. Im thinking Melbourne. - Sam spoke with a dreamy voice. - Well see if the Anglos let in old Empire veterans. - whimsy or not, Dirk would find him for sure. Chapter 3 - The Good Ones Though two weeks may seem to some like a long time, to Dirk hours of restless anticipation quickly turned to days busy with self reflection, reminiscence and preparations. The time had passed in a blink since his meeting with his brother, and it was now an early Friday morning, just at the break of dawn. Dirk found himself sitting in the middle of his apartment in an old, drab chair by an equally unflattering wooden table. A stale, irritating smell of mold lingered in the air, just barely noticeable by a human nose. Not a week ago this place was flooded with trash, but now it stood almost completely empty, ready to let its owner depart in peace. Dirk cleaned it on impulse, in a desperate attempt to find an out to all the energy that now welled up inside him. Some would say that it was a natural reaction to anxiety, but that was the thing. He wasnt anxious, but excited. Against that impulsive reaction, one thing stood steady where he left it months ago, sticking out, like a sore thumb - a bottle of wine. Made out of opaque glass, it had no label, but small bumps at its midsection. Those blemishes were interconnected, forming into a glass seal. No letters around it, only the shape of a butterfly wing. Eccentric to say the least, it carried a message unspoken and a promise unsaid. Dirk would rather not think about it. In the dim glow of the wintry sun that slipped in through the windows, something glimmered in the mans hand as he played with it with one hand, taking sips from his last glass of whisky with the other. The object was a medal of honor given to him at the very end of his service, on the day of his greatest failure. The piece of metal held no value, but it was a reminder. A memento of lives lost. Oh, how it weighed in his hand, this mockery of a decoration, bestowed upon him by bureaucrats of this country that cheered on as he bled for their cause, safe in their ivory towers. A cause he didnt choose, but rather meandered into. What was an orphan with no education, no passions or talents, to do? He joined the military, tempted by a steady trickle of money, and through some uncanny twist of fate, through war and suffering, found out what he was good at in life. He was a survivor. A warrior, whose strength was coveted even more than gold. Ares they called him at some point. A god of war. Perhaps a little too grand a name, considering that he only led a group of special forces. Of friends and family. But hed be lying if he said it didnt appeal to him on some level. To his ego. That it didnt get to his head at some point. Those few trusted people could face off against an army and come out victorious, he knew they could. And yet, one slip up led to their end. His own mistake. His hubris He stuffed the medal in his pocket and finished his drink, letting the last sip sit on his tongue for a moment. He promised himself that it would be his last. As he did the previous day, and the one before He sighed at his own weakness, then squeezed the medal in his hand. He needed to go for a walk. Just before leaving, he took one last glance at the wine bottle, his mouth went a bit dry from just looking at it. - Sorry, old friend, but thats not for me. - he muttered to the container, while sweeping it off the table straight into a plastic bin near it. It fell inside with a thud, too sturdy to break. Dirk didnt intend for it to shatter, he just followed an age-old maxim - out of sight, out of mind. He left the apartment block, wearing only a military jacket. The very same hed worn in his days in the special forces. He spared a glance at the patch on his shoulder as he was putting it on. It depicted a skeleton with a halo embracing a sword, surrounded by white wings forming a cocoon around it. Below was a small and worn inscription in Latin: "Quem di diligunt, adolescens moritur". It was a quote from one of the oldest Roman playwrights, Plautus. It meant "those whom the gods love die young". The chosen ones of the gods, or avatars, that''s what his unit was called. "The Tactical Response and External Threat Elimination Avatar Unit." The best of the best. But that was in the past now. A mere blip in the Empires history. He walked, not knowing where his legs would take him. He led countless successful missions, each with minimal casualties. Even those that seemed suicidal ended in success under his command. He was a kind of legend in covert military circles. Some called him the second Alexander the Great, Napoleon, or Julius Caesar. He dismissed all those titles with a slight smile, but he couldnt deny that he felt satisfaction then whenever people praised him like that. But it all ended on one faithful day. He and his unit were back, fresh from another successful mission. Their target was a prolific terrorist cell codenamed SLEEP, stationed deep within the old Russian territories. Insurrection fighters with a taste for explosives and targeting civilians. Theyd wiped them out to the last man Or so Dirk thought at the time. Hed let his guard down, blinded by his boundless pride and the rock-steady certainty that his unit simply could not fail. Hed grown complacent and allowed the enemy hed somehow overlooked to launch a counter-attack in the very heart of the Empire. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. They struck at the imperial Palace, and their attack was swift and unexpected, like a knee to the face. It left the Empire dazed and his unit dead. He lived through sheer coincidence, because he just happened to be on a different level of the mighty fortress when the first explosions happened. After that, he just couldnt keep going. With no unit, no purpose and no will to live, hed become but a burden, so the Empire let him go with an honorable discharge, probably hoping hed quietly fade away into oblivion like a discarded tool. And he almost did. He didnt blame them. Such were the Empires ways. But now he had a goal again. Something to look forward to. Something to put his mind and body into, and it filled him with excitement unlike any hed ever felt. Did he still have it in him? What was the cargo? How was life outside the Empires borders? The questions just kept popping up, a stark difference to the usual deaf void of his mind hed been experiencing for the past few years. He walked and walked, lost deep in thought, and hed soon found himself standing on top of a hill where a single little cypress tree was growing. A single grave lantern by its foot, casting a warm glow on the snowed-over ground. - Hello Dirk. He heard a female voice call out to him from a nearby bench. Hed instantly known who it was. - Hello Maggie. - he answered with a bitter smile. The woman before him was the only other survivor of his unit. Their comms-master and his ex-girlfriend. Almost a wife, but Too much happened way too quickly and they fell apart some years ago. - Came by to talk with the ghosts of the past? - she asked, stroking a bouquet of flowers in her hands. - Dunno, are you up for a conversation? - he sat next to her, his eyes on the little flame of the lantern. She chuckled, but there was no joy in her voice. He knew that she came by this place sometimes. It was a small symbolic spot in memory of the Avatar unit. When they first assembled, theyd planted the tree together, but now it was but a memento. A site of mourning and contemplation, where hed often find the same lanterns and flowers whenever he came by. - Im leaving soon. - he opened up with the first thing that came to mind. - I guessed as much. - she nodded rather indifferently. - Oh? - The talk of an old wolf mustering his strength made its rounds quickly. - she clarified, her gaze distant and lost, full of what ifs, a sentiment Dirk could share in some regard. So the word is out - he thought to himself, not all that much surprised. His brother had warned him after all that the Empire would not remain idle. - Ill miss this place. Ill miss Daubeny, Jess, Travis everyone. - he said, his tone full of longing. He propped his head up with his hand and stared off into the sky. The snow had subsided, leaving the skies wide open. Stars twinkled up above, distorted by the dome that protected the city from the elements. Pulses of energy made the night lights dance as they traveled from the spire down to the edges of the city. It was beautiful to Dirk, but also sad. Horrifying in a way, too. A reminder of the terrible power of the Empire. A fond memory, where his friends were still with him. Something he would not see ever again after he left for his mission. - They wont be missing you. - Maggie answered, ending a prolonged pause between the two. Her words bore no malice, as cold as they sounded. - Theyd be happy that you are finally getting out. They really would. - she nodded to herself. - Ill keep them company, dont worry. Right Maggie would be staying behind. Of course she would. She built herself a family with another man. A good man, Dirk knew for sure. Shed told him some years ago on the phone She had a job. A whole life here. And he wasnt a part of it anymore. She extended a hand towards Dirk, seeing in his eyes that she was losing him again, and in it, she held a cigarette. He reached for it, but stopped himself halfway. - No, thank you. - he shook his head. He wasnt about to make smoking a habit whenever he got a little uneasy during conversation. - Suit yourself. - she lit it up and took a puff. - Ouroboros, hmm? - Nothing escapes you, huh? - I am a former imperial comms-master. There are plenty of rumors that trickle my way. - To me, it seems like its free-flowing. - he chuckled. - Does everyone in the Empire know what groceries I buy, too? - I doubt that, but its not out of the question either, mister washed up celebrity. - she mocked, but it was in good spirit. - Ouch! - he scrunched his face in fake pain. - Out of all the obvious things, at least you didnt call me an alcoholic. - Speaking of rumors, I heard that the job youre on is especially touchy. Something about a combat super drug. Everyone on both sides is keeping up the appearances of peace and whatnot, but if what my sourcesC - Enough. Youll get in trouble if you keep going, and for what? - Dirk silenced her with a raised hand, then rose from his seat with a mix of urgency and frustration. - Im worried, Dirk. - she confessed, her facade of indifference breaking in an instant. - You should worry about yourself first and foremost. You have a family to worry about, too, so why risk it for a weathered memory - he crouched by the tree and laid a hand on its bark. - Ill be fine. He steeled his resolve. - Its a job like any other. I may be known for my failure, but success is my norm. - he rose to his feet and flashed Maggie a bright smile, which she couldnt help but reciprocate, if a little more discreetly. - Fine then. Ive got your word for it. Ill hold you by it, Fallen God. She walked up and placed the bouquet at the base of the tree. There was still much to say between them. Years of it, but they both kept quiet, giving one last silent prayer together for the fallen. When it was over, she took her leave, and not long after so did he, leaving behind friends and memories. Their small monument now adorned by a lantern, a bouquet and an old worthless medal. Chapter 4 - Ties That Bind The early morning hours quickly went by and made way for the busy noon. Well, as busy as it got in City 24. The weather wasnt exactly fit for an outside stroll with all the snow laying about, but the few stray people still wandered the white streets, some seeking a place to spend their lunch break, others simply killing time with nothing better to do. Dirk found himself somewhere in between those two groups, with nothing of importance to do and hungry for something to eat. The conversation he had with his ex this morning really put his body in a weird state of giddy excitement and melancholic brooding, which dampened his appetite. Until now, that is, as he found himself wandering the streets with a rumbling stomach. Thankfully, he knew just the place. He knew most good spots in this city, actually. He grew up here, after all. Him, the most Imperial looking man growing up in the middle of the so-called Russian Nowhere. He chuckled to himself. It was true. His parents moved here when he was little as a part of some Imperial relocation program and died soon after, leaving him to fend for himself. It was hard, but it also meant that he did in fact know the place like the back of his hand. The best and the worst of it. He moved on autopilot, thinking back on his childhood, how he met Sam and about his early days in the military. Its kind of ironic how now he could see, looking back, just how shit life in the Empire was. Especially in what was effectively occupied Russian land. Soon he arrived at his destination, almost surprising himself with just how quickly he found himself stepping into Burger Emperor. The name put a smile on his face. The whole restaurant did. It was so stupid and obviously part of the Imperial propaganda, but the burger mascot looked so much like a fat caricature of the Emperor Maxim Cornelius III that he just couldnt bring himself to hate the place. On the contrary, he loved it. The food was hot and greasy, just like he liked it. He shook his head with a faint smile on his face. If you want to control the masses, control their cuisine. - he mused under his nose and approached the counter, eyeing the displays above with the newest flavor of the month offers. There were burgers, obviously, but since he last came here theyd also branched out into pizzas and chicken drumsticks and even burritos. The whole deal. He didnt care much for the new stuff, but he knew the old menu by heart. Mind you, he didnt come here very often, and whenever he did, it was more like a small celebration of some accomplishment or a milestone. And thus he also had his favorite. The moment hed stepped into the restaurant, Dirk knew exactly what he was going to order. - Secret menu Olympus 776, number 3 and a large soda, please. - he ordered with all due respect people working in customer service deserve, but in return got a look of utter confusion from the young blonde lady behind the register. Dirk could swear he saw the exact moment she questioned his sanity, but after a quick Excuse me and a short chat with the manager, she took the order and gave Dirk his order number, which coincidentally was also a 3. He thanked her and gave her a knowing nod. It wasnt every day that anybody even mentioned that ancient menu, let alone ordered from it, but it was thankfully still in use. The man took his place in the corner by the window and waited, taking in the simple, peaceful atmosphere of a burger joint. The aroma of the fried meat, the corny note of the bun and the sound of his patty sizzling on the grill. It was soothing, like not much else could ever be. Hed taken his squad here a few times in the past. Damien especially liked the food. He was small, but damn if he could eat. His food arrived after about 20 minutes, and it was so beautiful that he almost felt bad taking the first bite. The four beef patties intertwined with an absurd number of crunchy bacon strips and an unhealthy dose of honey-mustard and BBQ sauce, topped off with a hearty dose of pickled onion and fresh lettuce drowned in cheese, barely fit in his mouth. The childlike glee with which he munched on the burger was almost mesmerizing to the few people who took notice of the uncanny burger and its owner, but soon enough all curious eyes drifted off somewhere else as a giant hooded figure sat across from Dirk, propping themselves up heavily on the table, throwing down a gray gym bag right beside themselves. Dirk raised his gaze from the meaty bounty, at first angry that somebody would interrupt his feast, but his expression quickly mellowed out as he realized just who the interloper was. - Hello Jason. - he said with his mouth full, but not letting even a drop of the fast food goodness leave his mouth. He swallowed and took a deep breath, the kind you take after a greedy bite a little too big. - You want a bite? - No. - he answered shortly. He seemed a little fidgety, but the shadow that his hoodie cast on his face made it for the most part indiscernible. He looked around, obviously tense. - No, thank you. - he corrected himself, his posture easing up a bit when he looked back at Dirk and his enormous burger. - Its good to see you in a good mood. - Nervous? Yeah, I am too, a little. - Dirk laughed, thinking about their coming excursion. He wasnt actually nervous per se. Just excited, but if he could make Jason relax - No, not really. - he answered back with a quick shake of his head. Almost too quick. Very unlike himself. - Ah, fuck it. Yeah, I am, but for an entirely different reason. He raised his hood just a tiny bit with a shaky hand, revealing a face like that of a leper, completely ravaged and practically falling apart. Slabs of skin hung loosely under his chin, revealing fibers of his pink muscles. He had no nose and his eyes seemed to have ruptured from the inside, being almost completely red, save for the thick pulsating golden strands that marked his whole face. - Oh, ouch! - Dirk said reflexively, furrowing his brows a little, then taking another bite, his expression stuck somewhere between morbid curiosity and genuine concern. - Yeah. Fleece is getting damn impatient and is currently giving me a fucking makeover of a lifetime. - he huffed with frustration, catching a piece of flesh that just fell off his cheek in his hand, which also seemed to be in a very advanced state of decay. - Its trying to jumpstart my regeneration. Put it straight on 100% after years of dormancy. How much time is there left? - he asked with urgency in his voice. - A little under 6 hours. Will you be okay till then? - I dont know. - he answered in a meek tone. - I can feel it rearranging my guts as we speak. Dirk gave him a prolonged look, as if pondering something, then took a massive messy bite out of his burger. His attention drifted to the outside and his eyes narrowed, his expression souring. He saw something which he didnt want to see. - Whats in the bag? - he asked, turning back to Jason, mouth still full. - My leash, muzzle and some fake documentation classifying me as a service-viable B-type BAHR unit. Well be needing the last one especially, since Im coming as your personal weapon. - he explained in a hushed voice. Dirk simply nodded, digesting the bit about classification in his mind. He vaguely remembered the Imperial designations for the regenerators and by those metrics the contents of the documentation were obviously false, since Jasons capabilities fell well outside the traditional designations The B-types were the newest batch with reduced capabilities, but easily mass-produced. Basically glorified canon fodder for the infantry, not even close to the dreaded A-types lost after the Red Rebellion but that was good. They would attract at most a few curious gazes, and notoriety was the last thing Dirk wanted on this little expedition. He glanced outside again, something stirring in his mind. There was subtle movement in the alleys. - Tell you what. - Dirk perked up, meeting Jasons gaze again. - Meet me by my favorite bar in the southern district in like an hour. Well do something about that Fleece problem. - Southern His face scrunched up a bit as he focused. - No you cant seriouslyC - I am. Now scoot and let me finish my food in peace, wont you? - I hate that Russian. - But thankfully he doesnt mind you, and he may just have what it takes to fix your little problem for you. I was going to go meet him anyway, might as well ask him for a favor. Now out with you! - he commanded, pointing to the door with his head. - Ugh. Fine! - he grumbled and stormed out of the joint with his bag in one hand, the other one firmly placed on his ripping face. A state-of-the-art bioweapon and a grown ass man, but he still acts all fussy like a little kid - Dirk thought to himself with more than a bit of amusement and a faint note of sadness. He pitied Jason. The guy wasnt even treated like a human being, let alone a growing kid, for most of his childhood. He had to figure out most of this being a human stuff on his own When he was well out of sight, Dirk finished his meal in a couple of big bites, downed his soda in record time and took a deep breath. Now it was time to deal with the other matter. He exited the premises with hands in his pockets and gaze low to the ground. An unassuming posture, hunched and gray, fit for blending into the crowd. Despite that, as he made his way through the sidewalk, leisurely strolling through twists and turns, something kept a keen eye on him. No matter what destitute alleyway Dirk shimmied across, the feeling persisted. The men in black, as Dirk vaguely identified them, were right on his tail, only occasionally appearing in the corner of his eye, just to instantly hide again the moment they got spotted. "Imperial servicemen... a dozen or so." - the retiree concluded, based upon the few glimpses he caught of them, and the simple fact that no Peacekeepers tried to intercept the suspicious bunch skulking about in broad daylight. Amateurs, the both of them, but neither group could afford to disturb the public order. Not in broad daylight, at least. "Poorly trained at espionage. Definitely not Marcus''s men." - the thought came to him as naturally as breathing. "Magnus, on the other hand, couldnt possibly be bothered to send his crew away from his ship Besides, those nutjobs couldn''t abandon the ship even if they wanted." - as his hands instinctively searched his pockets for anything useful, Dirk continued mulling the situation over. - "That only leaves one candidate... he''s always such a pain in my ass..." He kept walking, largely unbothered, but still alert. He walked through the city, now with a destination in mind, and as the small crowds of pedestrians that walked the streets with him thinned out around Dirk, the men in pursuit got closer as their confidence grew. But that was fine with him. Eventually he reached a small cobblestone bridge covered in decades old dead bushes, arced over a river long dried and gone. An isolated place far away from the main hubs of the citys activities, not too far away from the slums. He stepped on and without an inkling of urgency propped himself on the dilapidated railing. It was an invitation. Looking at the dry riverbed, it reminded him of the days water used to flow there. It wasn''t even that long ago, a decade or so. He used to fish here with his squad mates sometimes, dreaming of more peaceful days. Here they were now, paid for with their blood, sweat and tears. He didnt need to wait long before the men converged on his position from both sides of the bridge, effectively blocking his escape. It was obvious that they weren''t there to merely ask him questions. They wore thick black overcoats and dark-tinted glasses. A telltale sign of suspicious governmental activities. It was almost comical. Dirk rolled his eyes at just how conspicuous they all looked as they approached. Their walk and demeanor, on the other hand, at least showed some promise. Each one of them had their imminent striking range free of any obstructions, ending exactly where another began. They weren''t amateurs, as Dirk had previously thought. Their training was simply painfully hyper focused in one department - that of combat. It showed that they had nothing but the most shallow understanding of the finer military arts, but their sheer discipline put them just a cut above the wanton Peacekeeper grunts. - Since Ive already done you the favor of getting us somewhere private, pray tell, to what do I owe the pleasure of being stalked in the middle of the day? Some of them looked flustered for a moment, while others just barely kept their cool, but one of the servicemen stepped to the front and spoke with a practiced, professional diction, like a policeman dictating ones rights during an arrest. - Weve noticed a significant change in your daily behavioral patterns, Ares, sir. This is a simple welfare check. - Alright, enough. Cut the bull and tell me what Hyena wants Oh, excuse me. Heavenly General Hyena. - said Dirk, not omitting the air quotes as he spoke of his ex-colleague in a less than favorable tone. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.- Sir Ares, this isC - Just Dirk. Im retired. - he cut him off, not showing a shred of care. That was when someone new emerged from the crowd, their appearance raising the former soldiers eyebrow. Not only due to the way they presented themselves, but how despite it, he didnt notice the man sooner. The person who suddenly emerged from the monochrome crowd stuck out like a sore thumb, wearing a giant, golden helmet covering his whole face, with a blue forward-facing plume at the top. The simplest comparison within Dirks mind would be a Corinthian helmet from Ancient Greece. Yet there were details that didnt fit, instead of a visor there was a pitch-black screen, covering the whole facial area, with small tusks protruding from below the cheek-plates. Moreover, his outfit didn''t fit any standard military uniform Dirk knew of, seeming more fit for a cosplay event at best. His bare, chiseled chest showing through an opened Hawaiian shirt and a tactical harness tightly hugging a pair of military pants were a combination that forced Dirk to chuckle. Putting aside the avant-garde look, the unknown person walked up to him without a shred of hesitation. Their stance was lax, and looked unprofessional, but he was the first one out of the entire procession of conspicuous individuals who made Dirks expression turn serious. Is he a professional bodybuilder or something? - he thought, as the stranger''s arm moved slovenly towards the ornate helmet. - Havent seen a guy built like this in active service back in my day. - As the Empires high ranking veteran, your mental wellbeing is a stately matter. - a synthesized voice came from the man in front of him. - We will be taking you into imperial custody to evaluate your mental state and provide aid if necessary. A stately matter - the veteran scoffed internally. - Where were you when I was drinking myself into a stupor, then? The giant easily dwarfed Dirk when it came purely to muscle mass, and while his body language didnt seem outright hostile, he moved with the clear purpose backed by an order given to him straight from the top. A good man molded into an obedient puppet, almost unfit for someone serving the Hyena. Dirk clicked his tongue. The General would break him soon enough, though, as he did with most people under his command. - Please do not resist. - the man said firmly, more as an order than a request, and reached for Dirks arm, but that proved to be a huge mistake. The retired veteran caught the mans arm and with a simple, yet magnificently executed over-the-shoulder throw put him on the ground. Or so he planned. Unfortunately, years of nothing but drunken tussles with equally drunk losers made him soft. The moment Dirk grabbed the brute, the muscles in his arms bulged, veins showing through the thick skin. The former leader of the Avatar unit couldnt even budge the colossus before him. That was when his opponents other arm blinked in the soldier''s peripheral vision. Fast! - Dirk thought, swaying back away from the grab. But his foe didnt let up, stepping in and moving closer. He was a god-damn in-fighter, just like the veteran himself, so there werent many tricks he could pull to suddenly overwhelm the guy. It would all boil down to a slug-fest. Normally, that was. Under the pretense of a fair and peaceful detainment and the resulting military kayfabe, neither of them could resort to lethal measures. That limitation would impact both of them in equal measure, and with their options limited, the outcome of this bout in this neutered environment would likely come down to reflexes and training. With their hands open, their exchange of sways and deflects almost seemed like a childish slap-fight. To Dirk though, every attack he redirected felt so heavy that even with a strike of an open palm his foe could easily dislocate his jaw. Worse yet, his opponent wasnt even trying to attack him, merely grab him. All the other men in black felt the incentive to help their fellow agent, but they just couldnt find the right moment to step in. This battle didnt leave any place for third wheelers. So they watched, some whispering, others fiddling by their collars, likely speaking to hidden microphones. Dirk couldnt see that, though, nor could he listen in on their conversations, as the ball was in his court now. He was slowly getting pushed back. It was unbelievable. To think that someone like Hyena managed to train even a single person to match the training the Avatar unit was subjected to all those years ago. Or maybe Im just out of practice - the mere thought brought the sneering face of his younger brother to mind, slightly pissing him off. But he regained his composure as quickly as it wavered. He couldn''t afford to get distracted now, seeing that not only his opponent remained perfectly calm, but was more than an even match for Dirk in close quarters. Not a single overreaching movement, no wild haymakers. Nothing. Just precise, calculated grabs. The only thing showing that a person of flesh and blood hid behind the black screen, as opposed to a calculating machine, was the skin on his hands, which since the start of the battle turned bright red from exertion and numerous impacts. Despite that, not a single ragged breath from the giants side reached the veteran''s ears. The age gap was quite a bitch. But it was nothing that a good warm up couldnt overcome. Even if their little squabble lasted no longer than half a minute, the former god could clearly tell that his opponent''s movements were becoming slower. Or rather, he himself was becoming faster and more accustomed to them. He started sweating - something that would never happen to him back in the days of yore, yet with it a smile creeped onto Dirks lip. - You dickheads were right. I missed this. The barely audible sentence transformed into nigh untraceable movement as the mans old heart finally started beating with the vigor of youth. Dirk stepped to the side, grabbing the assailant by the wrist, and before he could even react, led him to the railing. It almost appeared as if the other guy walked up to it by himself, but martial arts always seemed incomprehensible like that to the untrained eye. As the bare-chested soldier slammed against the rusted railing, causing it to wobble dangerously, Dirk didnt let up, simply planting his hand at the center of his ornate helmet. All it took was a little push. With that, the tower of well toned muscles flipped over and fell down into the dry riverbed. Dirk didnt even have enough time to bask in the glory of the first genuine victory he had in many years, as metallic clicks resounded all around him. Now, without fear of interrupting, all the men in black reached for their side-arms and switched the safeties off in unison. Their payload probably wasnt lethal, but being shot up with this many rubber bullets could still kill him. Not much I can do about that - Dirk smirked, outnumbered and outgunned. - Maybe if one of them was a step closer But just as they took aim, a synthesized voice roared out, bearing down on them like a ton of bricks. Its tone being so very familiar to the old man. - Do not shoot him! - Dirk heard from behind, and as he looked, the man he threw off was already climbing back up the railing How the hell did he come up so fast? Did he grab onto something? - questions filled Dirks mind, and answers were nowhere to be seen. But more importantly, that voice - Speak to me directly if you really must ruin such a nice afternoon. - Dirk commanded, looking directly at the man who returned onto the bridge. - Do not send your pawns to satisfy your childish agendas. At first there was no response as the tension in the air grew exponentially with each passing second, but after a moment which seemed to last an eternity, something started to form on the pitch-black screen of the soldier''s helmet. With the sound of a long, chilling chuckle, a well known emblem took shape in full color in the middle of the black screen. It was the emblem of the Heavenly General Hyena. - Insolent. How insolent you are to go against the Emperors will, Heavenly General Ares! - there was a brief pause as the man on the other side caught his breath. Dirk could imagine the mans face twisting into a twisted smirk. - I meant to say would-be Heavenly General. - voice mocked him with audible satisfaction. - What do you want, Ajax? Dont you have some matters of state to attend to? Maybe a dinner with some upper classC - Silence, wretch! Your superior is talking to you! - Im a civilian, Daunt. Youre no boss of mine. Never were and never will be. - Oh, how naive! Our duty to the Empire does not end, even with our lives, so why would something like a simple retirement free you from your inborn obligation? - he growled through the gilded helmets inbuilt speaker. Those grandiose words fell flat when juxtaposed with the helmet wearers lack of any articulation. He stood still like a statue, only the rising and falling of his chest showing that someone was still sitting at the wheel. In the meantime, all the other servicemen holstered their weapons, but remained in their combat-ready stance, no doubt impressed and terrified by how easily a retired, down-and-under has-been kicked the giant''s ass. Easily of course being an operative word, but they didnt have to know. - Now, be a good old man and go with the agents present. You may be old and useless, but it doesnt mean I can just ignore your blatant disregard for the countrys safety. You know too much. - the last sentence carried age-old vitriol with each letter. - What safety? I am a free man, Heavenly General. - Dirk snapped back, fixing his jacket. - The Emperor himself let me go when he deemed me unfit for duty, and I have his decree in writing. Now, you wouldnt want a scandal on your hands, would you? About how the Empire treats their veterans? For better or worse, people know who Ares is, and they wouldnt take kindly to you harassing me in broad daylight. Public opinion has not been very kind to the State as of late, so please, Daunt, save yourself the public humiliation and me the nerves. - What if I ordered my men to shoot you instead, after all? - the nonchalance with which Ajax said these words even made his men flinch, with the exception of the transceiver guy. - Dead men tell no tales, and youve been out of the publics eye for quite a few years. There wouldnt even be any traces to hide, aside from that old, rickety body of yours. But thats a simple matter. The grid has been watching your movements, and they do not align with the path the Empire currently treads. - You could do that, sure. But that would only trigger my dead mans switch, and then the real uphill battle would begin for you. Dirk wasnt one for subterfuge and bluffs, but the moment Ajax Daunt mentioned the future of the Empire, the old soldier knew that things got serious. One cannot reason with an overzealous patriot, especially on the matters of their country - he frowned slightly, plucked from a battle of martial arts and flung right into a battle of wits. This day was anything but boring. - Stop bluffing, old man. There is no switch. - Daunt declared with utmost confidence, audibly losing patience. - We have your patterns down to a science, you senile drunk. We know more about your day, your life, than you do yourself, so why spew such obvious lies? - And whos to say I only set the switch up after my discharge? I have years over you, boy. Ive been neck deep in this countrys shit way before it even crossed your mind to join the military. So make it quick and decide whether you have the balls to take this gamble, because I have places to be and people to meet who are not a complete pain in the ass, unlike you. The Heavenly General Hyena, real name Ajax Daunt, was a very confident man. He was the one who picked up the mess left after the Red Rebellion and Punished Pride Incident and managed to put it back together in a way that allowed the Empire to resume its normal functions as the world''s supreme super-power. Which meant that his immense pride went hand in hand with fear. Overwhelming fear of the potential fall. Thats why Dirk knew he had to push, even if what he was saying amounted to absolute hogwash. Hyenas self-doubt and second guessing would take care of everything else. They all stood silently. Dirk, the nameless display-head, the dozens of soldiers and Ajax, somewhere far away in front of his cushy desk. The world around them continued as normal, birds flew about, raindrops fell, but the men all remained unmoving. - To hell with you. - Heavenly General broke the silence at last. - All units, retreat. For a split second the people in monochrome seemed bewildered, but none of them were brave enough to voice their own opinions. So instead they scattered, as suddenly as they converged. The only ones remaining on the bridge were Dirk and the stand-in for his long-time enemy. - There wont be another time, old man. - said the synthesized voice. - By the end of the day, Ill know all that I need about that killswitch of yours. So if you liedC - Dont pop a vein. - Dirk cut him off and turned around. - Since you said that Im on the grid, that threat of yours wont add much substance to your pathetic threats. - Ill make you swallow those words soon enough, Dirk. - with that foreboding promise, the icon disappeared from the helmet-screen. Leaving the lone soldier standing in front of his recent opponent without orders to follow. - Youre pretty good, kid. - the old dog spoke truthfully for the first time in a few minutes. - Pretty good. - the synthesized voice repeated after him. There was nothing more left to be said. Dirk wanted to act a bit coy and thank his opponent for shaking some dust off of his joints, but there was some inkling of respect he felt towards the faceless stranger. Towards the skill he displayed, it made him almost ignore the garish outfit he wore. As the helmeted soldier turned around and started walking away, Dirk called out one last time, with a simple question. - Whats your name, kid? - Designation Diesel, Sergeant Second Class, Fenrir espionage and quick response unit. Then he disappeared into the thicket, like the rest of Ajaxs men before him. Chapter 5 - Vices Dirk pulled back his sleeve and glanced upon his watch. Hed wasted more time dealing with Hyenas grunts than he wanted, but he still had some time to double back and head for the southern district. Hed led their group on a bit of a sightseeing tour when he brought them to the bridge, partly because it was one of the spots he wanted to visit one last time before he had to part with it forever. But now, with that being done and over, he headed for the bar with spring in his step, adrenaline still tickling his body from the inside. It felt good to move again. To let his body act. To think. To face adversity and overcome it. It was unlike anything hed felt for the past few years, and to have this feeling back now felt almost euphoric. He slapped his face, bringing his mind back to the ground. There was no use getting all giddy over such a small scuffle. If circumstances were a little different, he may have lost and been taken into custody. He made mistakes. He was the first one ready to admit it. He was too cocky and unused to his own body. Sure, hed been training over the years. Light exercise to keep his mind from spiraling, but in the fight with Diesel he felt a massive difference from when he was in his prime. His limbs simply couldnt keep up with his head. He stretched his arms and neck, feeling the pull of their muscles. Hed have to work on that, but in due time. He hoped it wouldnt affect the mission too much, naively believing the age-old saying that the body remembers the way it wants to be. Getting back into proper shape should take him far less time than building his base from the ground up. Again. In due time. Now he stood in front of a small bar and diner neatly tucked into the ground floor of an old tenement. The sign up-top read in bold, if a little plain letters: Byrons Brews&Breakfast. It made Dirk smile. Though he mostly came here for the alcohol like most other people, as the owner mixed in a few of his own special brews among the regular, commercially available stuff, there was more to this place than met the eye. Byron also fried some mean fried eggs with bratwurst and tomato for the breakfast menu, and a very nice goulash once a week on Saturdays. A shame that so few people knew about the food part of his business, despite the big, obvious sign. He rubbed his frost-nibbled face and entered the building, immediately being hit by a wall of warm air filled with an enticing chestnut aroma. He shook his head, determined to stick by his word not to drink, this time for real. There werent many people around, but it wasnt all that strange, considering it was the middle of the day. He hung his coat on the rack by the door and scooted over to the bar where Byron seemed busy pretending to be busy, wiping a glass mug with a small cloth, his thick, black arms seemingly threatening to shatter it with every move. - Well, well, well. - Byron lifted his gaze from the crystal clear mug, placing it on the counter with a coy smile on his face. - I was hoping Id never see your ugly face here again. - Was I that overdue on my last tab? - Dirk asked with a chuckle. - Who cares about that. I almost convinced myself youd given up on drinking. - Youd go out of business without me, and you know it. - Bah! Ive got plenty of depressed old fools willing to throw money at me. - he scoffed with a sideways smirk. - Now, dont go thinking that Ill serve you more than your usual dose just because you had a little break, yhear me? So what do you want? The usual? - Some water. - he answered, deadpan. At those words, Byron scrunched up his big, bushy brows and rubbed his eyes with one hand, making sure that his eyes did not deceive him. - You are Dirk, right? Not some weird imperial doppelg?nger clone thing, right? - Oh, come on. Is it that weird? - For you? Very weird. - he crossed his arms on his wide chest. - Youre pulling my leg. - he pierced him with a gaze full of scrutiny. - Im dead serious. - Dirk lifted both his hands in front of him, placatively. This time when the owner of the bar felt that his words rang true, he instantly reached over the counter and pulled Dirks head into a one-arm lock, almost pulling him over to his side, and Dirk let that happen in good spirit. - Atta boy! - Byron exclaimed with genuine joy, leaning in to speak with the retired veteran stuck under his arm. - So give me the details. The hottest gossip. What broke the camels back? Did you finally find yourself a missus? - No, Baron, no - he slipped out of the lock with a chuckle, referring to the man by his nickname. - Its a, uh its about a job. Dirk could swear he saw Byrons eyes light up as he heard those words, but his act did not match that perceived excitement. He loosened his grip and leaned on the counter, standing face-to-face with Dirk. - Nothing dangerous, I hope. - he asked, knowingly. Byron was one of the very few people in the know about most of the City-24 peoples business, and his place was a bit of a hotspot for its outcasts. He even knew who Dirk was in the past, but didnt treat him differently from his usual clientele. Dirk appreciated that. - Well, the risks always there, but - Alright, I get it. - the barman interrupted by raising his hand. - Now, I wouldnt want you to compromise anything important. Just dont get killed, aye? - Im not planning on that. - Dirk grinned back and Byron reciprocated. - But it wont do! It wont do at all to just let you go with a dry mouth like that! - the man threw up his arms in frustration, then ducked behind the counter. - But I have just the thing. In one swift motion, he pulled out two small glasses and an unmarked bottle of some kind of opaque orange liquid, making Dirk raise an eyebrow. - I know what you are thinking, but its non-alcoholic. One of my newest experiments, and let me tell you, it has a kick. No The kick of all kicks, Lord be my witness. - he pulled out a small golden cross from behind his collar, gave it a kiss, and immediately gave both of the glasses a pour from the bottle. - My treat. Dirk took one of them and gave it a sniff, immediately recoiling in surprise with his eyes wide open as the strong aroma tickled the inside of his skull through his nose. - Wow. - was all Dirk could say - Told you. - said Baron with a shit-eating grin before extending his glass towards the veteran, thus giving him a proposal he couldnt refuse. It wasnt proper conduct to reject hospitality from an aristocrat, after all. They clinked their glasses and downed the contents in an instant, letting it burn their throats all the way down. Through the scorching sensation, Dirk could tell that the drink had a really nice peachy flavor. - How did you make it? - Dirk couldnt help but ask, voice hoarse and hushed. - Thats my little secret. - Byron tapped his temple with a smirk and poured Dirk a cup of tap water. - Your order, sir. - he mocked, but Dirk didnt care and gulped it down with a sigh of relief. - You never fail to impress. - I do my best. - he basked in the small triumph for a second before speaking again. - But since youre not here to really drink, I assume theres some other business youre here for? - Aye. Aside from getting one last good look at your mug, I need to speak with Morozov. Is he in? - At the back. - he gave a curt nod and pointed towards a door in one of the far corners of the room. - Alright. - he stood up from his stool and cracked his fingers. - Lets see if Lady Lucks on my side today. - he turned around but stopped for a second. - And Byron? - Hm? - he looked at Dirk, half-turned himself. - Thanks for keeping me in check all those years. - Gah, get outta here, all sappy. - he waved him away, grabbing the cloth again along with some other mug and immediately getting to work to mask the tiny smile forming on his face. With that, Dirk headed for the door leading down to the basement. Compared to the bar itself, the staircase leading down seemed more at home in some seedy club. Unprotected wiring hung from the ceiling, neon tubes lined the walls and way too much graffiti sprawled across it all like fungus. The visual stimulus mixed with the smell of tobacco and cheap booze evoked in Dirks mind just one word. A club. This one didnt smell of piss, though. Not too much, anyway. - Reap em and weep em cunts! Screams of discontent erupted from behind the doors which were still a few steps away from his reach. Then came the sound of shattering glass and loud thuds. The unmistakable symphony of The Basement. Surprisingly, no shots were mixed in with all this hollering, reassuring the former soldier that the man he was looking for was keeping all the rabble-rousers in check behind the reinforced metal doors. As his descent came to a close, Dirk pulled his arm back and slammed the aforementioned door, which from this close looked more akin to a prison gate than anything else. It was almost a full head and a half taller than him, with a closed off vision panel and a more intricate closing mechanism than one would normally expect from a place like this. In the middle of the door was a giant valve, or at least there used to be one on the outside, now replaced with but a sawn off nub. Despite that, eight large metallic rods converged from the steel frame right on top of it. Each of the rods was stabbing through the frame, straight into the surrounding concrete of the building itself. Each time Dirk looked at this insane contraption, he could swear that if the entire City were to ever be glassed, this blast door would be the only thing left standing. A metallic creak awoke him from those thoughts as the vision panel slid open, revealing a fine metal mesh alongside a pair of peepers. Dirk didnt even get to say anything as the panel slammed shut as abruptly as it opened. Then, with a laborious metallic groan, sounding like a whole bridge falling apart under its own weight, the intricate mechanism started moving. The soldier took a step back and checked if his big custom trench knife was still in its holster. Ares was never one for having a complicated and specific loadout, even in his days of active duty. He could make do with anything at hand, which, now that he thought about it, might have earned him that memorable nickname, among other things. A soldier who kills people with advanced weaponry on the battlefield is nothing more than a rank-and-file trooper doing his job. But a soldier who plows through with anything that falls into his hands when ammo runs dry, sticks to stones and the enemies own weapons - thats how you leave an impression. His old self would have thought of the oversized knife as redundant at best, or dead weight at worst, but nowadays, Dirk tried to mostly ignore that prideful voice in his head. Tried being a key word. Impressive looking weapons had their uses too, even if their practical applications were at times limited. They certainly made negotiations easier, for one, and scared off any feisty rabble whenever words failed. After all, having a big shank carried with it a certain amount of status among the bottom-of-the-barrel scum that Dirk had the pleasure of surrounding himself with for the past few years. And this one was special. Dirk shook his head, returning to reality. The door before him, thicker than Dirks chest, started swinging open, letting out a wave of stale air that reeked of blood, piss and cigarettes. The classic mix. Once the gate fully opened, a tough looking man clad in a faded suit walked out, inspecting Dirk from head to toe. Each of his fingers was covered by stitches, just like his face. He glared at Dirk with the same cold eyes that peeked at him through the vision panel. Despite that, Dirk smiled slightly. - Good to see you, Anton. - said Dirk with a nod - Likewise. - the man answered before extending a hand towards him. Even if Dirk wasnt a fan of notoriety, he couldnt help but enjoy those little interactions with the people who knew him. After a shake and a half, the former soldier stepped through the door frame, no longer paying attention to its closing ritual, equally tedious as the opening one, instead focusing on finding the one man he was looking for. Not like it was particularly difficult. - Crazy Ruskie. - Dirk mused as a burly man suddenly rose from the poker table a few tables down, his laughter blasting through the room like a rolling thunder. The words he spoke seemed almost unintelligible, blurted out much too quickly and wildly. A haphazard mishmash of both Russian and Imperial words. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.Not wanting to lag behind schedule even more, Dirk power walked towards the jovial man, only exchanging courteous nods with everyone who recognized him as he passed. - You must have cheated Morozov, you fuck! - one of the patrons at the table voiced his upset with the Russian clad in a gray jersey. - Forget it. Thats what you get for trying to gamble with him. - another one spoke out, cradling his weary face in both hands. A third guy simply walked away, toppling his chair to the ground like a toddler throwing a tantrum. The swelling rage, however, did not stop him from giving Dirk a small nod as he passed him. - If all the Empire''s people were as much a suckers as you guys, we would have had that Rebellion in the bag! - Morozov grabbed a half-full glass from the table and downed its content in a single gulp. - Dont you dare fucking start with that soapy moaning of yours, or Ill gut you like a pig. - someone yelled across the room, scoring a lot of laughs from other patrons. - Id like to see you try! - the Russian responded quickly before making a surprised expression. - Oh wait! You did! Tell us, how does it feel to chew with fewer teeth than a toddler? The jovial atmosphere kept on going, with many glasses being raised to honor a good verbal squabble. As the big winner waved away the losers from the table, Dirk met his gaze. An enormous grin appeared on the Russians face. - Is it a trick of the light? Do my eyes deceive me from all those flashing neons burning out my retinas? - his loud voice brought everyone''s attention to the new arrival. - The prodigal son returns! Came to lose some of that spare change you got in your pantaloons? - I think Id have better luck storming the spire with a spoon than winning against your cheating ass. - Dirk spoke out loud, trying to match his volume. - Maybe. Maybe. But it would be one hell of a spectacle either way. With a third and final wave of laughter, followed by those sitting a bit further away throwing their greetings towards Dirk, the burly man stepped away from the table, walking straight towards the veteran. - Dirk, you sonofabitch. - the gambler spoke in Russian in a much softer tone, while preparing a wide right-hand swing. - Good to see ya, Misha. - the sonofabitch in question responded accordingly, both in language and action. Their arms moved at breakneck speed, so that once their hands collided a slap louder than a gunshot erupted, resulting in a proper manly handshake. - What brings you to this shithole? - Misha began, not letting go just yet, instead flexing his muscles and tightening his grip with a bit of a mischievous smirk. - Especially at this hour? - he added, glancing at his old watch affixed to his wrist with weathered leather straps. - In due time, friend. All in due time. - he grinned, answering with his own steel handshake. - I do need you for something, though. Morozov pulled him into a quick side hug, and with his arm firmly around Dirks back, sneakily tried to usher him into one of the seats by the poker table. - Nah! - Dirk protested, already half-sitting as he caught on to his games, but was suddenly pushed all the way down by the Russian. - Im on a schedule today. I cant play. - Oh, dont be like that, malchik. - he shot back, taking his place across the table. - Talkings so much easier over a nice game, right, everybody? - he provoked the surrounding crowd, immediately dodging a plastic cup thrown his way. - They agree. Cmon! Fast rounds, small sums. Dont leave me hanging. Dirk pierced him with a suspicious glare. - No tricks. - he sighed, resigning to his fate. He wanted to play anyway, but giving in too easily would rile the Russian up too much, and one of them would no doubt leave the place with nothing but their pants on. - I dont do tricks, Dirk. You know me. - he gave his friend the most innocent smile he could muster. - Lying right off the bat, huh? A couple other people naively joined the table, seeing as Dirk was in. Normally hed be an easy mark and a quick boost of cash to them, but today Today, Dirk was feeling lucky. The cards slid across the table in a rhythmic fashion as the dealer gave each player their hand. It was time for some friendly Texas hold em. True to his word, Misha kept the game casual at first, bidding pocket change in a swift back and forth with the other three players, evidently playing with them on more than one level, throwing in an obvious bluff every few rounds, only to effortlessly win back his share over the next two. - So. - the Russian turned to Dirk, laying his cards face down on the green felt of the table. - What do you need me for? Some kind of favor? - Something like that, but I think youll enjoy it too. - Oh, now thats interesting. Did you finally come around to the idea of overthrowing this fake country? - he snorted with stifled laughter. - Even if I did, who would be doing whom a favor in that case? - We, tovarish, would be doing a favor to the whole world. - he said in a tone of complete seriousness, only betrayed by the slight smirk on his face. - Maybe when the snow thaws, aye? - Dirk said sarcastically and rolled his eyes with a good-natured smile. - So spill the beans. What can the lowly me do for you? - Ive got a guy whod like to meet you in the ring. Misha nodded, his expression remaining unreadable as turns went by. - That boy of yours, eh? - Oh, please. Hes no boy, and certainly not mine. - Dirk checked his own cards, barely stopping himself from squinting. - But yes. Him. - A big fella, but I guess I could throw him around the ring a couple of times. Show him a few grabs. - Nah. He wants the real deal, if you know what I mean. A mere spar wont cut it. - Oh. So its about the thing? - he cocked an eyebrow, revealing his hand. The pot was his for the taking and a new round began. - Cant you just like - he raised his hand and did a little finger gun. - If only it was that simple - Dirk sighed, catching the next hand. - You have to get him stressin. I could throw him off the cliff and it wouldnt do a thing. - Well, sure, I could do that, but - he threw in a few big chips from his previous winnings. - There has to be something in it for me. How about you get me stressin first, eh? - Finally, things are getting interesting. - one of the other players leaned in with a nervous smirk, half-hidden by a scarf on his neck. - Heh - Dirk couldnt help but scoff as he threw in a few crumpled bills to match the Russians bid. - Check. The game snowballed from thereon, each round expanding the pot exponentially. The warm-up was over and so was the relaxed atmosphere of a friendly game. Everyone held on for dear life to their funds as Morozov dictated the pace of the game with ease, pulling impossible hands at the most unexpected of times. At one point, someone even made him roll up his sleeves right up to his armpits to make sure that he wasnt cheating, but nothing seemed to be able to stop the devastation that Morozov unleashed upon the table. The hoard of chips and bills quickly started accepting other things as viable currency, such as rings, watches, pocket knives and much more. Morozov even threw in a few candies as a freebie to mock the others, making the spectating crowd hoot and holler with equal parts schadenfreude and spiteful resentment for past games. Some even started betting on the outcome of the game, adding to the distractions, but it was a small bit of arrogance Misha could very much afford. It was only after the other players left the table, having nothing left to gamble away, that Dirk started to push Misha back with a few well executed bluffs and one lucky hand that put them in a tie. - Well, well, well. That was a big risk you just took. - Misha cackled, not at all bothered by the giant loss he just took, walking into the next hand in strides. - Lifes risky, Red. Sometimes you just gotta take the plunge. - Dirk kept his poker face on as he spoke those words, but the truth was that he simply won a coin flip. - I like that about you, Fallen God. When push comes to shove, you dont pussyfoot around. - they riled each other up, closed in their own little world, deaf to the hollers of pure enthusiasm all around them. - But did you hear that? - he looked around in mock bewilderment, and the crowd fell silent in anticipation. Morozov clicked his fingers and a gun, model Makarov, appeared in his hand out of thin air. - That was the sound of your luck running out. - he held the weapon in the air for a second to the astonishment of the crowd, then threw it into his pile of cash and baubles and slid it all into the pot. - Last hand. All in. Dirk couldnt help but chuckle a bit, seeing that relic of a bygone era on the table. The audience was filled with bewilderment and laughter all at the same time. - Morozov, where the fuck did you get that shit from? The antique store? - But how the hell did it appear in his hand like that? - Is it loaded? The jeers and cheers didnt distract the other player enough to fumble the bag, not one move before showdown. The former imperial spec-op put a hand into his jacket and pulled out the trench knife in pristine condition. There was a flash in the Russians eye. - So youre ready to give me my shank back, eh? - the Russian almost stood up from pure excitement. This was the symbol of Dirks one great victory over Morozov in the past. It was fitting to bet it away now. All the former players now regretted losing too soon to get a chance at the beautiful piece. It wasnt the most expensive item, but it was the most coveted solely because it signified the rivalry between the two men. A pile of faded chips, crumpled bills and other knick-knacks stood between them, now complete with a firearm and an impressive looking knife, like a cherry on top. Despite only two players remaining for the showdown, the sheer value of the reward easily outstripped all the previous rounds. So there was no need to delay it anymore, a river had formed, and it was overflowing, the waters of fate ripping its banks. Dirk looked at the combination of five cards for the last time. King of hearts, ten of spades, jack of clubs, jack of hearts and queen of hearts. Not a bad combination, not bad at all. - he thought to himself without showing any emotions. With a loud slam, Misha threw his hand onto the table. - Just like this hell pit with all your stinking mugs, full house! - he declared, throwing both legs on the table and leaning back in his chair. Jack of spades and ten of clubs glared back at Dirk, seemingly able to take on a brunt of whatever he could throw at it and best it. Ares didnt even want to know how much luck or cheating had to go into this outcome, but either way he was impressed by the Ruskie - Somebody is getting fucked! One of the observers yelled out into the ether, as Dirks long stare into the cards didnt inspire much confidence. - Get shit on! - Someone else yelled out. The crowd was growing impatient, about ready to burst with excitement. As one, they started stomping their feet on the ground in a rhythmic fashion, urging Dirk to reveal his hand, throwing obscenities his way. As the house kept getting rowdier and rowdier, Dirk just kept biding his time. - I hope youll be able to keep your part of the deal, Morozov. - Stop stalling and pay the piper, Dirkie-boy! - the Russians face was no longer excited, simply coy and certain of victory at hand. - Pride comes before the fall. The soldier stated. It was something he certainly knew more about than most. As his two cards landed on the table, the entire room went silent. Ace of hearts and ten of the same suit. Dirk couldnt help but smile. Before cranking it up into a shit-eating-grin. He leaned in towards Morozov and enunciated: - R-O-Y-A-L F-L-U-S-H. The crowd went wild. Bar stools started flying, men yelled, roared and jumped, almost scratching the ceiling. All the pent-up masculinity was unleashed simultaneously in a single second. Random people kept on shaking both Morozov and Dirk, providing tangible proof that this was no dream. Even if his voice was barely audible from all the screams and jeers and sounds of celebratory squabbles erupting from falling furniture, the loser had a few important words to share with the victor. - Go fuck yourself. - And here I thought you said you liked me. Where did that go? - Dirk responded with a face painted with fake concern. - Down the shitter, along with my favorite gun. - Ill take good care of it, dont you worry. With that, Dirk partook in the spoils, holstering the knife and the outdated pistol as well. If there was one thing he was thankful towards his younger self for at that moment, it was the habit of keeping one empty holster for occasions such as this one. The former soldier stood up among the squabbling rabble and yelled out. - Drinks are on me! He didnt particularly need the money, and doing this felt appropriate for the day of his departure. With the two things that he actually cared about in his pockets, Dirk moved to a place where his arrangement with Misha would take place. Through the crowd he spotted the Russian, already well on his way there, but before they could regroup somebody grabbed the soldier by the shoulder. His muscles contracted, ready for a pointless squabble with some disgruntled drunk who didnt like the outcome of their game, but instead saw the gatekeeper of The Basement. - Anton? Yes, those drinks also include you. - Thank you, but there is someone outside the door. A big lad. Says hes with you. - Oh. - Dirk didnt need any further descriptions. He merely took a glance at his wristwatch. - Just point him to the Sandbox once hes in, alright? A silent nod was the only response he got, as the stitched-up bouncer turned and disappeared within the crowd as suddenly as he appeared. Time sure flies when youre a betting man. - the veteran thought, resuming on his merry way. Chapter 6 - “Red Mill” With each step Dirk took deeper into the bowels of the place, the jovial laughs behind him became more and more distant, dampened by the thick concrete walls. The Basement wasnt especially large, though, as one could assume. It took merely a few turns and a bit of walking for the noise to die out almost completely and be replaced by grave, eerie silence. Being built inside an old nuclear fallout shelter, the Basements walls had very specific sound propagation and dampening qualities, fit for more unsavory practices than mere gambling. Ones which demanded at least a little bit of secrecy. Byron, as the sole owner of the place, got it as a part of a package deal when the previous owner bestowed the bar above to him in his final will. The word was that the man built the bunker himself in secret, having lived in the era of nuclear warfare, but Byron neither confirmed nor denied such gossip. After a bit of walking across dirty, unfurnished corridors that reeked of blood and vomit, Dirk reached a large chamber. One reserved for very specific kinds of competitions. - Jason is gonna join us shortly. - he spoke to the shirtless man standing in the middle. - Good, I need to let out some steam. - Morozov huffed, wrapping bandages on his hands. The whole room was supported by four large, reinforced pillars, among which resided a central square area of around 12 by 12 meters. It was fenced off with crudely welded rebar and corrugated steel. It was a fighting arena filled with sand tinted red with old blood. This was the true gambling table in which Misha Red Mill Morozov reigned supreme. The rest of the room was occupied by old dilapidated couches, sturdy boxes and foldable chairs acting as makeshift spectator stands. The only other thing of real note was a large stainless steel wardrobe in the back, closed shut with a padlock. One would normally ponder what was inside, if not for the giant red cross on the front. It was a medical cabinet, complete with an old and worn looking folded stretcher by its side, atop which hung a cracked standard issue Peacekeeper helmet. A giant LOSER spray-painted onto its forehead in vibrant red. A tasteless joke truly befitting the king of this ring. Dirk jumped inside the ring, managing to catch a few glimpses of broken teeth and human nails within the bloodied sand. - Whoa, you also want to tussle? - the Ruskie smiled, tying the last knot on his bandaged hands. - Sure, going to my job interview with a broken nose and missing teeth would surely increase my appeal. - the veteran said jokingly, walking up to the other man. - A job interview? For what? - Oh right, I didnt really get to tell you. I got signed up for a mercenary gig. Escorting a convoy belonging to Ouroboros. - Dirk nonchalantly spilled the beans. - Suka blyat. - the gamblers eyes lit up. - How much are they forking? While waiting for Jason to get to the arena, the god of war decided to explain the whole situation to his good drinking buddy. The conversation went eerily similar to the way his younger brother laid it before him days ago. Once they finished, the Russian leaned against the corrugated steel and started thinking. - Thats a payout of a lifetime. - he mused, chin caught between his thumb and index finger. - Right? Way to potentially turn more than a single life around. - Dirk wanted to say something more, but his eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. - You made it! Didnt even take you that long for your first time. - Bite me, what kind of maze is this place? - Jason exclaimed, not as much tired as exasperated. He stopped mid-step, meeting eyes with Misha. A grave silence befell the room until the Russian broke it with a smile. - Are you getting ready or do you need your papa to hold your hand? - The Ruskie whispered it, just to increase the snide. Jasons irises shrunk to the size of pinheads. He ostentatiously threw his overcoat into the air, before getting into the ring in strides. Barely perceptible veins of gold shone through his skin, but he didnt care at the moment. From up close he easily dwarfed Misha, yet even looking up to meet Jasons gaze, Red Mill couldnt stop smiling. - Gonna keep theC Before he even finished his remark, Jason flexed every single muscle on his body that he could and with a loud tear, the black shirt the young adult was wearing exploded into shreds. Dirk left the arena, getting away from the splash zone as the shreds of cloth rained across the sandpit. - For the record. - Jason finally spoke, his unnaturally large musculature shaking ever so slightly. - I dislike you, but what I am about to do to you isnt personal. The golden irises of his eyes, now shining with disdain, gave weight to those words, yet the Russian only yawned. - Are you here to fight, boy? Or are you trying to woo me? - with that, he took a deep breath. Before Jason arrived, Dirk politely asked Misha to rile the boy up and set him straight. So with that in mind, Morozov decided to be methodical about the whole process. Step one - the Russian counted in his head. Then spat in Jasons face. A wild swing cut through the air, sending waves across the room, tearing through space in a fraction of a second. The abruptness and force within made it seem as if Jason just performed a quick draw like cowboys of old did with their revolvers, but much, much faster. Despite that, waves of pressure at the tips of his knuckles indicated that it was a miss. The Ruskie already moved. Then something hit Jason, toppling him down to the ground. An unseen force struck the giant behind the knee, bending his leg against his will. Startled, he quickly turned around to see where Morozov was, but instead saw nothing. - Thats what swinging blindly gets ya. - his opponent said from behind. The quickness with which Jason rose with arms swinging towards the source of the sound could only be called super-human, yet despite that he only managed to catch a glimpse of Misha just in time for the latter to throw a fistful of sand into his face. As the younger of them coiled back, coughing up the sand that got into his airways, Dirk could only sigh from the sidelines. I know I asked for it, but holy shit is it painful to watch someone having to fight Morozov - the veteran thought, following the Russian with his gaze as he casually strolled around the arena. He circled around the young Chrysos, mocking him with how much time he was giving him to recover. When comparing their physiques, one could easily spot how Misha Morozov was several weight classes below Jason, with his body looking drier than the sand in which he stepped. He was shorter, smaller, thinner. In every possible category the Russian was inferior to the giant, but to put it mildly, he was the one bullying the giant. In spite of that - Got ya. - Jason uttered, throwing out a sweeping kick in an attempt to ground his opponent. A giant cloud of dust got kicked up by this maneuver. Compared to the last wild attack, this one was calm and calculated, thrown out quickly and without needless flair. And yet it still didnt hit. The Russian, as if seeing the future, simply jumped over the incoming sweep and rocked the opponent''s world with a spinning kick to the head. With his noggin swinging backwards, propelled by the enormous force, the rest of Jasons body followed, welcoming dozens of calcium dregs into his bare back. - Malchik, Im falling asleep here. Do I have to ask your pa to stand in for you? Misha kept pressing all the right buttons to piss the young man off, to Dirks visible chagrin. Still, Jason needed that, or rather Fleece did. As if being summoned, Fleece went into overdrive. The entirety of Jasons body suddenly lit up, every muscle group becoming highlighted with golden strands. The heels of his boots dug into the ground with overwhelming force and by defying every law of physics known to man, allowed him to lift his entire body off the floor, back into an upright stance in one swift motion. He somehow got taller and larger, glowing like a Christmas tree. Without any witty quips or taunts, Jason leaped forwards, now seeming more like a wild beast than a man. Despite that, Morozov didnt even flinch. He only waited a spell before grabbing the incoming mountain of flesh and throwing him over the shoulder to the hard ground once more. - Thats bringing back memories, you know? - he whispered with deep melancholy in his words. - I dont have a boatload of guns on me this time around, though. - S-sorry. - Jason uttered through gritted teeth, ashamed of his bestial outburst. Jason swiped again from the ground with a clear disadvantage, but as expected it did very little. His opponent didnt even have to try dodging that one, simply stepping back out of range, but Jason recovered in a blink and kept pressing the assault. That should suffice for the first step - the king of the ring thought, while effortlessly walking backwards and weaving just at the tip of his opponents range. - Now unto the second. The Russian disappeared in a blur, appearing directly in front of his opponent''s face. He swung his head back and slammed it into the young Chrysos nose, spaying blood everywhere. Knocking him down a peg - the melancholy was gone from his face, as if it was all a summer dream. Instead, Morozov smiled from ear to ear. He hunched down with his guard up and rushed in, ready to remind the single witness to this one-sided wallop where his moniker stemmed from. - There he goes. - Dirk muttered, opting to look anywhere else but at what was about to take place. Slaughter, to put it lightly. Hit after hit, Morozov smashed Jasons roided-up body like an oversized punching bag. First came the left swing, then a right and a straight. Not a single action that a human fist could perform during a fight was off the table. The opponent started blocking low? Misha poked his eyes with his fingers. He brought his hands up to the face? The Russian answered with a quick one-two to the liver and the solar plexus. Tried countering with a hook? Duck low and spring back up, using momentum to nail him in the chin with a compact uppercut. That was exactly why Red Mill had to bandage his fists before every fight. Because the speed at which he was tearing the skin off his knuckles and fingers was insane. He tore his hands to shreds almost as quickly as he did his opponents, as if pain itself did not exist. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.Once Jasons head jumped up from the upper, the Russian grabbed his nose with the other hand and pulled him straight down into a flying knee. A burst of laughter suddenly erupted, filling the room. It wasnt Dirk, and it couldnt have been Jason, who was having his shit pushed in at an insane pace. It was Red Mill himself, milling through another unfortunate opponent, leaving behind only red-golden stains. But Misha wasnt laughing at Jason. There was no malice in his voice. He simply enjoyed himself like a child each time a good tussle knocked on the metaphorical door of his schedule. - And one, and two, and- whoops, wrong side! - Morozov started talking in his native tongue between bouts of laughter. Completely getting lost in the sauce. - You gotta be quicker than that! Wherere you even looking dumbass? That was why his body seemed so gaunt. It was the Russians'' conscious choice to mold his body into a lithe and nimble machine capable of supporting the fighting style that gave him so much joy. As little fat as possible, all muscles and no water weight. Of course, this type of physique had its drawbacks too. He was more susceptible to cuts and couldnt handle the cold that well, which ran against the image of a stereotypical Russian most people had in their minds. But he couldnt care less. It was his body, his rules. Jason, or Fleece, depending on how one approached the topic, finally got fed up with how one-sided the fight was and ran forward, forsaking all defense in a mad attempt to push the opponent away. - Too slow. Misha spun around and hit the giant in the side of his head with a Brazilian kick. Jasons world slid to the side, and he fell into the sand again. In the meantime, Morozov, red from exertion and fuming like a coal-engine, just jumped around like an athlete loosening his muscles before competition. - Want me to keep going? I can do this all day. - he spoke out into the ether, looking at the ceiling. - Until Fleece is satisfied. - Dirk responded, knowing that the question was aimed at him. He only just returned after rummaging through Jason''s gym bag, left at the entrance to the pit-hall. This blatant breach of privacy was committed so that Dirk could light a cigarette. The veteran felt that he would need that to make it through this mess. So much for not returning to bad habits. From up close it might not have looked so rough to the Russian who was high on adrenaline, but his hands were soaked in blood, with it dripping down into the sand. Even if Jason could take it, and anything a thousand times worse, looking at something like this being done to someone you cared for so one-sidedly, Dirk wasnt having the easiest time coping with it, but it was necessary. - Oh, come on. - Misha hollered with mock disappointment, stopping his little hops for a second and leaning forwards, hands on his knees. - This cant be all you have, right? - he asked, looking as Jason fumbled on the ground, unable to pick himself up, his sense of balance thrown completely out of whack. - I know you have more. Ive seen it. - There was a glint of madness as he half-whispered that last part. Something dark stirred inside the Russians mind, only barely drowned out by the rush he got from the fight. - Give him a breather. - Dirk commanded, letting his concern bleed through his tough act, and took a big puff from the ciggie. - A breather? - Morozov repeated after him, his tone eerily unreadable. - There are no breathers in life. It always kicks you while youre down. - he booted Jason in the ribs, as if to exemplify his point. There was something personal in that kick, but was it really aimed at Jason? Dirk kept his mouth shut. Misha was right. All three of them knew it to be true somewhere deep inside, each in their own way. Ares took another lungful to finish the smoke and threw the butt into the sands of the arena. He grabbed onto the rebar fence, almost shoving his face in between the rods. His expression was solid as a rock. - Pick yourself up, you pussy. - he yelled towards Jason who spat out some blood, the veins in his body bulging with a clear golden hue. - Ive known some fine women with more grit than you. - Shut up, you old drunk. - the youngster growled back with his head still down, but some renewed vigor finally reared its head. Unbeknownst to Jason, this forced the two men to crack a brief smile each. - Oh, getting a little snappy, eh? - Dirk banged at the metal sheet with his foot, sending booming waves through the pit, each sound making Jason flinch a little. - I can kick your ass later, too, but first finish what you started, you pansy! How do you expect to tank bullets if you cant take a hit? - I told you to shut up! - He snapped back, fistfuls of sand crackling in his hands as he raged in frustration at his own incompetence. He talked big, but fell short. It was pathetic, but he just couldnt shake this daze. The fucking Ruskie got him good. - Did the cushy human life make you soft? Want me to come over and wipe that sorry looking mug of yours with a napkin? - Dirk kept pressuring, talking as much to the youngster as to himself. Jason couldnt swim, but Fleece wouldnt let him sink. That seemed to have pushed Jason over the edge. With explosive force he pushed himself backwards in sheer frustration, shifting to a sitting position, and with a maddened roar slammed his thumbs deep into both his ears with all his might, spraying red and gold all around in an eruption of his own blood. - Finally, some fucking peace and quiet! - He screamed at the top of his lungs, giving his thumbs a good twist. - Thats more like it. - Morozov said under breath, flashing a crazy smile at the sight of this spectacle, unfazed by its grotesque nature, impressed by the lack of hesitation. As soon as the grievous wounds appeared, however, they mended in a flash of gold, leaving behind not a single scratch, aside from the streaks of blood that now ran down the regenerators neck. With his balance center forcefully reset, Jason at last picked himself off the ground with a feral kind of look. This time, however, there was something else beside the bloodthirsty beast in those eyes. A kindling resolve and a sense of calmness. - Good! - Dirk cheered, slamming his fist on the rebar so hard he shook off some rust. - Now kick his ass! Make it a 2-0 for us! - he exclaimed, the taste of victory still fresh in his mouth. With Jason back in the fight, both contestants started circling around slowly, like wolves circling their prey. Being quite aware that he can no longer bum-rush the young lad with his composure returned, Misha proceeded to stabilize his breathing, looking for a good enough opening to present itself. - Not gonna run in now? - Jason goaded. - No Russian obscenities to throw at me? What are you scared of? - Dont worry, malchik. - Morozov held back a click of the tongue as he felt a pang of frustration unlike anything hed felt thus far during their fight. - Im just building suspense before your inevitable date with the floor. - You- With the moment finally ripe, the king of the ring dashed in without hesitation. No holds barred, both in love and war, and he loved war very much. In one fell swoop, he transgressed through the outer strike range of his opponent and got ready to start the assault from up close, but before the first strike could even connect, Dirk yelled out. - Backsway! As if acting on instinct not of his own, Jason swung backwards, being barely grazed by the Russians knuckles. - Go! Then he pounced forward, deciding to repay Morozov for their last exchange with interest. Straight, hook, straight, hook - simple, compact strikes flew through the air, allowing Jason to recover before Misha could strike back. At the very last, the giant pressed the offense of his own. During this one-sided exchange, the focused face of the Ruskie spoke volumes of the oncoming onslaught. He didnt feel pressed in any manner, but he was quite annoyed. Not with Jason, but with Dirks backseating. While Misha was bobbing and weaving away from Jasons barrage, something he didnt account for happened. His back touched the cold steel fence. He wasnt paying enough attention to the bout. A rookie mistake. Morozov should have focused more on the scrap instead of Dirks meddling, but there were no second takes in war, no redos, or take-backs. The fault was entirely his. So he simply needed to turn it around. With his mind made up, the Russian simply looked towards the next strike coming from the Goliath and instead of dodging it, slammed his head into it. Jason didnt expect it in the slightest and neither did Dirk, it seemed, as both paused for a split second too long. As the big lad''s arm recoiled from the impact with Mishas forehead, the latter grabbed the man by the wrist and pulled him in. The sudden tug made the challenger stumble straight into an elbow. Using his elbow bone as a blade, he cut Jason''s brow ridge, causing blood to cover the giants eyes for a few seconds. Blinded and immobilized, there was no technique Jason could use against the upcoming barrage. Strike after strike, fists connected with his face. Nose, jaw, chin, they were like ticks on a list. Once all those points suffered a solid strike, the Ruskie proceeded to simply hammer his opponents face repeatedly, as if through the monotony of repetition, trying to speed up his response. - Tackle him! Incapable of really seeing anything himself, Jason listened to Dirk and rammed the area from which the repetitive strikes were raining down upon him, hunkering down and spreading out his arms in an attempt to sweep the opponent off his feet and slam him into the hard, cold sand. But something that neither Dirk nor Jason could expect happened. Jason grasped at air, as a sudden force suddenly planted his face into the ground. Dirk could only grasp the top of his head, seeing how that order backfired spectacularly. Morozov, with nowhere to dodge as the giants arms cut off every escape route, took his charge head on, jumping over the charging bull and letting him slam face-first into the rebar behind his back. As the dazed beast fell into the sand, the Russian pacified him with a knee to the neck, pressing down on it with all his weight. Young Chrysos couldnt die from lack of oxygen, but he could certainly pass out, giving another round and the whole match away to the Russian and ruining Dirks streak. - I guess I could go for a side-hustle as a matador, dont you think? - Misha cackled, enjoying himself yet again. Morozov lifted Jasons head by the hair, and before he could react, slammed it back into the sand. Sweat dripping from his own face, he started stomping on the regenerators head, half buried in the sand, with no remorse or hesitation. This was a losing position for the giant, no matter how one looked at it. He was under constant attack, face-down on the ground. Getting back up would be extremely difficult, fighting back, impossible. But even in this hopeless situation, Dirk still racked his brain, going through any possible move from any school that he knew or practiced, but how could one recover from being pummeled into the ground? We arentC A spark of inspiration appeared in Dirks head, but before he could even say anything, a miracle occurred. Jason must have reached a similar conclusion, as his body mass suddenly shifted, tearing out a loud swear from the current champions throat. While lying on the ground, Jason dug both his feet and hands into the sand, using it as a springboard, and launched himself forward, straight towards the Russian''s supporting leg, grabbing it with his teeth. This was a dirty fighting ring, inhuman by nature, but Jasons very essence went beyond what Morozov got used to after years of curb-stomping pretenders to his crown. Caught up in approaching this fight from a human perspective and losing himself in the high of a battle, Morozov forgot himself completely and made a terrible miscalculation. Astonished, he fell to the ground, only to be suddenly hoisted upwards by the leg still clenched in Jasons teeth. - Yeah! Fucking get him! - Dirk yelled, letting his excitement slip out. - Now swing him around into a right hook! Knock his lights out! Following orders, Jason did just that, but before push came to shove, he suddenly let the Russian go with a jerk, sending him flying across the Sandbox. Misha flew, then fell, crashed and tumbled, barely managing to lose all the momentum before his bald head slammed against the corrugated steel. Gasping for air, he got on all fours, coughing and wheezing. - Jason? What the fuck happened? - the backseat gamer of this fight tried to get an answer to the incomprehensible turn of events. But then he looked at the young giant more attentively. He grasped the gist of it. Jason was curled up on the ground with both hands clutched between his legs. Misha sprung back to his feet, and only smiled when Dirk gazed at him with confusion, which slowly turned to annoyance. - Did you really have to punch him in the nuts? - Yep. Its a dirty fighting ring, what did you expect? - Morozov grinned, showing off his pearly whites. Chapter 7 - East Wind Time went by as the scraps continued in full force. Soon Jason got into the flow of things, and despite almost always being on his back foot, he managed to land a few good hits on Morozov, who lashed out to his hearts content. Dirk kept giving pointers to the young Chrysos, but as rounds came and went, he did so less and less. Unfortunately for Misha, in a battle of pure attrition, Jason was bound to win eventually, and as the Russians movements slowed an hour or so into his never-ending onslaught, the giant started powering down, partly because he wanted to fight him on roughly equal footing, and partly because Fleece seemed to have been satisfied. As Jason was now, with his regeneration factor restarted and recalibrated, he could easily shrug off peak-performing Morozov from the start of their battle like he was nothing. There was no probably. It was a cold certainty. With Morozov tuckered out and Jason deflated into his original, above average human form, their bloody duel soon transformed into a slower-paced boxing match. Morozov seemed happy with this outcome, though, in spite of his previous rampage, as its been ages since anybody kept up with him in the ring for that long. Perhaps it was Dirk who last gave him this kind of fun, even though the veteran was a little better at fighting back than the youngster. Still, Chrysos definitely had some potential. Maybe in 20 years or so, when Morozov succumbed to old age, Jason would have a chance with him. For now, though, Misha was happy to give pointers to the lad between their, now more gentlemanly, bouts. While on the surface Jason didnt take too kindly to those unwarranted tips, scoffing and rolling his eyes at the insane Ruskie, whom he still didnt like, even after their manly heart-to-fist, he did make mental notes as they fought on, making slight adjustments and visibly improving in the span of mere hours. - Watch my range. - Morozov said, shooting a straight to Jasons face, which he promptly dodged. - You are larger, and your arms are longer. You have a huge advantage, as long as you dont let me enter close range. - Yeah, Ive heard you the last five times. - the young giant grumbled. - So apply it, blyat. - he grunted as he flowed into a roundhouse kick, blocked by a thick arm - Hes right, yknow. - Dirk threw in his two cents, his body sucked deep into one of the old sofas. He watched the fight like some sort of TV show. - Shut it. Im getting the hang of it already. - Jason rolled his eyes, which proved his undoing as Morozov knocked him off his feet with a low swipe. - Nice one. - Dirk snorted, amused at the swiftness with which Karma acted. - Eyes on the enemy. - the Russian huffed, sweat dripping off his nose like water from a leaky tap. - You cant justC He couldnt even finish his sentence when Jason brought him to his level, grabbing at his leg while the Ruskie tried to wipe his brow with one hand. - Oof! - Eyes on the enemy. - the giant hissed with a smirk, sand still clinging to his face from the fall. - Alright, I think thats enough horsing arC As if in response to Ares words yet unspoken, between a duet of low chuckles, the sound of boots tapping against the ground filled the concrete room, instantly catching the mens attention. - I see youre still playing in the sand like a little child, Morozov. - an alien voice echoed through the room as a tall, lanky man in a burgundy suit came from the tunnel with one hand clutching a heavy-looking suitcase, some sort of sword hanging by his hip on the same side. - When will you finally grow up and join the rest of us in the real world? - he wore a pair of round, dark-tinted glasses and wore his long hair in a ponytail. Right after him, three other men entered Dirks field of vision, wearing much the same outfits, but carrying handguns instead of suitcases. Their pace was leisurely, but they walked with clear purpose with their heads held high and backs straight. - Ah, idi na hui, suka. - Morozov cursed under breath, picking himself off the sand, only now realizing just how worn out the bandages on his hands got. He looked at the Asian and put on the fakest smile Dirk has ever seen. - Tetsuo! What can I do for you? - He called out in full voice, a little hoarse from exertion. He exited the arena feeling a bit sore, but not showing any weakness. - You know exactly why were here. While you are gambling your life away, we are building a reputable business in this snow-covered hellscape. - he swiped the shoulder of his suit as if clearing it of something, despite it being in immaculate state. Not a speck of dust seemed to be able to cling to his suit. - And while we humored your silly requests for so long because you managed to pay our kindness back, your performance as of late has been less than satisfactory. - Your point? - Morozov asked bluntly, wiping himself with a dirty towel - Didnt the last beatdown teach you anything? Give us what you owe, Russian scum. This is your last chance. - his hand hovered dangerously close to the hilt of his blade as he walked towards the Ruskie, his killing intent seeping through like blood through a bandage. - Who the fuck areC Dirk couldnt even finish as he was getting up from the couch, when Tetsuo swung his briefcase like a mace, aimed at the veterans face. The makeshift weapon, however, stopped short, even if Dirk was about to dodge it, stopped by the Russian. - Hey! This is between you and me! - Misha hissed through grit teeth, tightening his grip on the intruders hand, only to shove him away a second later. In the same moment, his lackeys raised their guns, pointing them straight at the unruly Ruskies head. - You just dont know when to back down, do you? - the Asian growled, stretching his wrist and adjusting his tie. - Whats this bum to you anyway? - he measured Dirk up, venom dripping from his every word. - Doesnt matter. We cant have any witnesses to a murder. - he sent his men a gesture that only they knew, and cracked a smug smile at Misha. Dirk only took another quick glance around, ensuring that the positioning of the other men aligned, and asked a simple question in a language that only one more person in the room understood. - Rules of engagement? - None. - the Russian responded. Within the next few seconds, many things simultaneously occurred. The surrounding mobsters got ready to shoot, their leader unsheathed his sword with a wicked grin, and Jason vaulted the corrugated steel fence. But all of it seemed to play out in slow motion. Compared to what Dirk had to deal with before coming here, the current situation seemed trivial. When compared to his scuffle with Diesel earlier that day, everyone moved sluggishly and way too predictably. The only exception being Morozov, who seemed to be looking at the old Empire veteran with great expectations. I guess he hasnt seen me in action in a while. - the disheveled man moved on autopilot. - So be it. Four targets. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.Four directions. Four seconds. First was the man who snuck up behind him. After everything that happened today, Dirk was feeling light both in body and spirit, moving with steps that almost defied logic. No wonder the goons were so slow to react. Even an animal can be caught off guard if it senses no malice from another predator. The professional killer turned around and with two quick movements first broke the gangsters trigger finger, following up with a devastating strike to the windpipe. As his gun began to fall, knocked loose from the goons hand, Dirk simply grabbed it midair and shot his two remaining friends in their wrists and knees, four shots in total. Seeing as that slowed him slightly, Tetsuo didnt waste even a second and was already unleashing a helm-splitting strike in Dirks direction. Jason did not stay idle in the face of this transgression and shot forwards with all his might, traversing the distance between them in milliseconds, ready to tackle the assailant. The God of War smiled. It was heartwarming to see Jason grow, from a terrified orphan that rejected the world around him, into someone the old dog could entrust his life to. Still, he wasnt that senile as to need a nanny. As the blade glistened in the light, with the wannabe samurai screaming on the top of his lungs, Dirk let go of the gun, opting to throw both hands towards the incoming sword. With a loud clap, the katana stopped midair, being grasped between the veteran''s two hands. How in theC Tetsuo could only think those few words in reaction to the sheer improbability of that maneuver working, right before a human freight-train tackled him to the ground, breaking a few bones on mere impact. Once on the floor, the regenerator turned the Japanese man around. - Pulling a gun on my friends? Bad idea. - just moments ago Jason was startled, even confused, but now he was simply angry. With that exclamation off his chest, Jason started rearranging the gangsters face. Once the immediate threat disappeared, so did Dirk''s combat focus. He exhaled loudly, letting his strained body relax, and cracked a smile at Misha. - Enough of a spectacle for you? - he asked as he stretched lightly. He would definitely need to get back into proper shape. - Watching you work is almost as stimulating as gambling, tovarish. - the Ruskie cackled. - As if your skill never deteriorated, unlike your liver. - Yeah, I had a little warm up earlier today. - the veteran sauntered over to the first man he disarmed and kicked his teeth in. - But thats a story for another day. - If you say so. - Morozov did the same to another wounded opponent, knocking him out cold. - I guess an explanation is in order? - You think? - Jason joined in, loosening up his wrists. Both of the giants fists were caked in blood. Tetsuo behind him no longer moved. Misha walked over to the nearest folding chair and set it up among the carnage with the backrest facing the two men, so that he could rest his arms. - Those wimps came here to collect a certain debt that I apparently have with them. - he shrugged with a frown. - Some fucking debt it is. I paid you back fivefold ages ago. - he grumbled in a low voice, glancing at one of the intruders. - The king of the ring has debts, huh? I thought you raked in a pretty penny with all this going on. - Dirk motioned in a wide arc, sweeping the arena with his eyes, then fell back onto the couch. - You can probably guess how it is with those types. I borrowed money when I was in a tight spot, sure, but Im not such a piece of shit as to not pay it back. What they did to me, though? Extortion. Daytime fucking robbery. - he started drumming his fingers on the backrest, anger bubbling just beneath his skin. - They always managed to find some fine print, some little discrepancy, some fucking excuse to fuck me over - he shot up from his chair in frustration, knocking it over. - And just kept stacking interest on my head. I was stupid to humor them as long as I did. - he went over to Tetsuo and turned his mangled face with his foot, really rubbing the sole of his boot into the mans bloodied cheek, getting a weak groan out of him, miraculously still alive. - I have my own problems to deal with, you twat. - But why Yakuza? - Jason chimed in, confused about the whole ordeal, still wiping his hands clean of blood. - How did they even get into de-facto Empire land? - I helped them hop the border years ago in exchange for the loan. See how that fucking turned out. - he spat at Tetsuo with much anger. - They were supposed to establish some sort of foothold here, lay groundwork for something bigger while raking in the money for their parent cell I guess they got lazy with just how easy it was to get it from me. - But still, why Yakuza of all people? - Jason pressed the issue, getting an annoyed look from Morozov. - Oh, my bad, malchik! I completely forgot about all those Imperial banks so eager to throw fat stacks of money at a Russian ex-rebel. Cant see how that would end badly, blyat. - he huffed, massaging his forehead with one hand. - Im still baffled that they didnt hunt me like a fucking deer in the woods after that whole fiasco. - he added, now sounding more tired than anything else. - You should have moved. - Dirk commented dryly. - I was already established here when they started fucking me in the ass. I couldnt afford to move, but I also couldnt afford to stay - he sighed, looking absentmindedly into the ceiling, away from Dirk and Jason. - YC...Y-youll pay for this. - Tetsuo said in barely even a whisper, coughing up blood and his own teeth, only to receive swift retribution in the form of a rage-fueled kick. - That too. Theyre not as kind as to forget about me. - he let those words hang in the air for a few moments before clapping his hands together, and it was as if a switch flipped in his head and he returned to his jovial self, a wide grin plastered on his face. - But its not the first time you fall from heaven right in front of me, Dirkie-boy. That jig of yours? That little job that promises a mountain of cash? I want in. - No! - the young Chrysos immediately barked back, but flinched as Dirk put his hand up to silence him. - Are you sure about that? Its bound to bring the attention of the Empire back to you. - Oh, Im already on one hit-list after our little performance here. - he pointed at the mangled gangster with his thumb. - Whats one more? - he giggled like a child who just did something naughty. - Well I cant stop you, but youll have to get through Ouroboros last-minute recruitment on your own. - Easy-peasy. The big-wigs always want more canon fodder, and us Russians have centuries of experience in that department. Now imagine fodder who can actually fight back when shit hits the fan. That''s some bang for their buck! I bet my ass thats gonna impress them. - Wait, wait, wait! Hold on! - Jason cut in, grabbing Dirk by the shoulder and dragging him off to the side. - You cant be serious. - he spoke in frantic whispers. - Hes insane! He can fight, Ill admit that much, but hes unpredictable! Dangerous, both to himself and those around him! - Hes a friend. - Dirk answered resolutely, the look in his eyes somehow distant and absent. - I dont understand. - he blurted out without much thought. - Im not asking you to understand. - he locked eyes with Jason for a brief moment, his gaze completely peaceful. - Just trust me, okay? - he laid his hand on the giants shoulder and walked past him, not leaving any space for discussion. - Fuck - Jason bit his lip as he cursed. - So what do we do about them? - Dirk nodded his head to one of the gangsters. - It would leave a bad taste in my mouth to leave behind unfinished business, yknow? - Misha cracked a telling smirk Dirk only exhaled, patting Jason on the shoulder. - Well be waiting outside then. Avoid making a mess, Ouroboros could find an issue with recruiting a guy who comes for a job interview reeking of blood. - I know, I know. - Morozov dismissively waved Dirk off. - Polite and presentable, how every gun for hire gotta be these days, blyat. Chapter 8 - In Motion Far away from where Dirk made his first steps towards grasping the new life ahead, inside the walls of concrete and titanium, a man sat in an ivory tower. He pondered the current events looking through an enormous stained-glass window. - How long will it take him to get back? - his demeanor appeared calm, but his voice gave away the underlying irritation. - Around two hours, sir. Within the dark confines of the office, illuminated only by the red light shed through the stained glass, were giant cabinets filled with files. Display cases with various medals and parade sabers, long banners stretching from the ceiling almost all the way down to the floor, covered by a golden-red carpet. Yet the one thing that stood out the most, was the person besides the thinking man, who sat on a leather couch. It was a woman of an average build, dressed in a standard-issue female MP uniform, she held a PDA in which she was meticulously scribbling something. None of that was out of the ordinary. What stuck out was her face. Pale as a sheath, partially covered by a dark-blue fringe and aviator sunglasses combo. That whole outfit made her look quite laughable, as it wasnt something that would fly in an ordinary military unit. Not even if she were to be part of the civilian personnel. - Is the helmet camera recording prepared? - the man continued the inquiry. - Most certainly, sir. - the woman responded nonchalantly. - Has it been sent out to all members of the Fenrir unit in the Secret class dossier? - But of course, sir. - Are squads 1 through 4 ready for deployment? - Nyope, sir. A deafening silence befell the room, only interrupted by the barely audible scratching of the digital stylus on the PDAs surface. The man finally faced away from the window, letting the red light illuminate his features. He looked like a dog. His face was clean, but gauntish in its features. Once upon a time it must have been quite conventionally attractive, but wrinkles now ruined that smooth visage, making the man seem much older and wretched than he actually was. His long, straight black hair, slicked back, slowly began to unravel, with a few strands here and there going their separate ways. That face, alongside his furrowed brow and pristine, white teeth accentuating his snarling scowl, only made the animalistic comparison more astute. - Then what are they doing? - he walked up to a minimalistic steel desk that contrasted heavily with its surroundings. - I issued that order forty-five minutes ago! - Maybe youre overselling their capabilities? With those words, the woman smiled. As if consciously goading the speaker, who remained indifferent to the face she was making. - What did you just say, Head Secretary Blaz? - the man leaned on the desk. - Lightning doesnt strike twice, sir. - secretary responded nonchalantly. - It almost sounds like youre insinuating that Heavenly General Ajax Daunt wasted his time and resources on the Fenrir Initiative. - he made sure to accentuate every bit of the full name and title. - I do not insinuate, I state. - the man behind the desk jerked slightly in response to her words. - What I stated is that he is measuring others with- Before she could finish the sentence, the General in question slammed the table with both fists. - Know your place. - he snarled. - Dont presume to understand the weight of my burdens. A dog will never comprehend the thoughts of its owner, so just keep fetching when I throw and wag that tail. - Woof. - Veronica responded with an onomatopoeia before returning to her PDA, unbothered by the analogy. After staring daggers at her for a while, Ajax Daunt sat down in the spinning armchair before his desk. He closed both eyes and leaned back, taking a breath to cool down. Nothing was out of his control yet. The traitors of the country still had not started moving. They were still on the Grid. Sending out Diesel was a simple warning meant to sow the seeds of hesitation within Ares. After all, his misplaced status as the greatest hero the Empire ever had made the matters regarding his disposal quite complicated. Pinning him down with doubt was the least Ajax could do to limit the old bag of bones'' interference, especially in those troubled times. Thankfully, just as Ajax had hoped for, dear old Dirk was behind the times. Both in the information and the strategic department. That gave the Fenrir unit an edge. An edge that the Heavenly General intended to cut his throat with. Still, that came in the far off future. Each plan requires a stable foundation, just like the Fatherland itself. With the blood of heroes we have raised this altar, as we shed our blood its foundation shall never falter. - Ajax recited a line from the Empires anthem, one he knew by heart. To ensure that his ploys were equally secured, he had to play the long game. Fortunately, being a Heavenly General gave him a lot of experience in that field. May the foes of our ways up to heaven stack, in the paradise our fathers built we shall remain, wither the attack. - Hyena smiled. - Oh how right you are, my muse. - Veronica? - Ajax spoke out, regaining the calmer demeanor from before. - What is it, sir? - the smile has gone from her face, just as the mans mood stabilized. - What is the progress of their assembly? - Around 89% according to the status report from a few minutes ago, sir. - Keep me posted. - Aye, aye. With that, she uncrossed her legs and laid down sideways on the couch, yawning, her unprofessional and aloof behavior causing Ajaxs brow to flinch. Should have left you to die in that ditch. - his thoughts spilled forth. - If I did, Cicada and Morena wouldnt have forced me to take you in. The Heavenly General hated everything about Veronica Blaz, down to the last minute detail. The hair color, the behavior, the way she spoke. Her very being. Every single time she spoke, she riled him up and watched with glee, waiting for his reaction. She was a cancer upon his existence. But alas, her ''unusual nature'' had its benefits. So he kept amusing his peers by keeping her around as a flawed but useful tool. - You want something, sir? - she sent him a coy smile, as he was staring way too long. - Head Secretary Blaz, couldnt you at least take off your shoes? People sit on that couch. - he made up a reason, simultaneously shifting his attention towards a monitor that just lit up. - Nah, sir. As the Heavenly General began to type in the password to unlock the retina scanner, so that he might check the statuses of every shift within the building, someone knocked at the door. - Open. - the woman beat the General to the answer before he could even take a breath. - Squad 2 Commander of the Fenrir espionage and quick response unit, Corporal Verve entering! - a voice from behind the door said aloud. The large, ivory colored door opened without a creek as a fully geared soldier entered the premises. The only distinguishing feature on his person was a weird contraption replacing his right arm, making his limb look like a stump. He slammed the heels of both his boots together, puffing up his chest, and offered a proper salute. A welcome sight for Ajaxs sore eyes. - Speak. - the Heavenly General ordered. - All squads are assembled and accounted for, Heavenly General, Sir! - Verve yelled, very much following the proper conduct protocol. - Thank you for the timely response, Corporal. - the way in which the General officially conducted himself stood in stark contrast to what happened behind closed doors. - The Empire thanks you for your service. I assume you already read the dossier? - Sir, yes, sir! - Good. Any requisition forms are to be filed by your teams by 2400. Dismissed. With that, the faceless Fenrir trooper repeated the formalities and left the room in haste. The Heavenly General placed his face to the desk where the retina scanner hid and finally gained access to the personal computer before him. - It is quite improbable that four Fenrir teams would be able to assemble the last 11% of their gear within a few minutes. - Ajax spoke aloud. - Oh, really, sir? - Yes. Really. - he felt the bile rise up into his throat. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.- I must have misread something, sir. Oops. He decided to no longer entertain this conversation and instead opened the encrypted file on the desktop. Titled: Initiative 2422350. Or as he liked to call it: Operation God-Slayer. At the same time, many kilometers away. As the men walked towards the Spire, the streets of City-24 slowly but surely started filling with crowds seldom ever seen there in such numbers, save for a few holidays and local election days. Armored transports and other vehicles, bearing both Ouroboros and Empire markings, drove up and down the main alleys and people from all around the city converged on the giant central landmark. Peacekeeping units walked among the crowds, running regular ID checks under the pretense of keeping the public order. The truth, however, was much different. The true reason for their overbearing presence hung in the air like a scent of a fresh kill, but nobody dared to question the imperial intentions. It was an open secret that since the Red Rebellion the Empire had gotten extremely wary of any and all revolutionary ideas, cracking down on even the smallest unauthorized gatherings. Though never officially codified, any gathering of over a hundred people was to be monitored by the Empires forces and swiftly terminated if the need arose, with lethal force if necessary. But the question remained - what prompted this humongous rally? What event brought all those overworked people into the cold-bitten streets right after the working hours? Today marked the last service the Ouroboros pharmaceutical company would give to the citizens of City-24 in the form of a free vaccination effort to fight the latest strain of bird flu which had supposedly been spreading throughout the neighboring Kintsugi Union. People came in droves to inoculate themselves against the pesky virus, taking advantage of the companys final kind gesture before their inevitable departure from the Empire. Long queues stretched far from the central plateau, where Ouroboros had set up tens of vaccination points, clogging up the streets like giant blood clots inside enormous veins. But the three men moved through the sea of bodies unbothered, with their objectives still echoing in their minds after a brief talk they had on the way. First was to reach the vaccination point #17, #35 or #39 somewhere in the outer ring of tents that surrounded the Spire. Easy enough, at least in theory. Reality, however, was often disappointing, and had a wicked sense of humor. Among the ocean of people, Jason stuck out like a sore thumb, being the prime target for any Peacekeeper checks. Luckily, with the two men acting as support, Morozov being the rowdy distraction and Dirk the annoying roadblock, even this mountain of muscles could disappear for a few precious seconds each time the militia got a lock on him. With smart planning and just a few detours, the trio reached the plateau. Surprisingly, the crowds here thinned out as people were being let in and out of the perimeter in an orderly fashion by Ouroboros employees, not too dissimilar to the Empires goons. The added space was convenient, however, as it made the search for the right tents that much quicker. Dirk and Morozov queued up into separate lines, Jason waiting in the sidelines just out of sight with eyes wide open and the gear in his gym bag handy. When the time came for Dirk to enter the tent, he was greeted by the sight of medical equipment, military transport crates and medical personnel working in overdrive, applying jab after jab at an expert pace. To all appearances, it was a normal emergency facility. It was here, though, that the next step of the plan would take place. Dirk was sat down by one of the nurses on a folding chair by a sterile metal table, surrounded from all sides by algae-green hospital curtains, and made to answer a few simple questions. - Any allergies? - a pretty female nurse with a small, straight scar in the corner of her mouth asked, ready to write things down on a small blue clipboard. - Pumpkins and crows. - he answered matter-of-factly. - Any long term conditions? - Migraines and insomnia. - Occurring in any family members? - No. Can we get this over with quickly, please? My dog is waiting for me. - Of course. With that, she poked him with a needle and looked at her watch. - Please stay in the vicinity for the next 10 minutes and look out for any adverse effects. If anything happens, call for our personnel. - she advised as she stuck a blue band-aid on the jab and showed him out. - Cheers. With that, phase 2 was complete. Their whole conversation was, of course, just a giant string of codewords. Pumpkins and crows was their hook. Migraines and insomnia were Dirks general military and spec-ops experience. No family meant he came solo. The dog signified the usage of an organic weapon. He exited the tent and walked towards the inner ring of tents, where he was intercepted by two faceless Ouroboros enforcers. - Sir, there is some paperwork you need to fill. Please, follow us. - one of them said, tugging at the small submachine gun, slung over his shoulder. Dirk simply nodded and gave a loud whistle, as if impressed by the simple weapon. That was when Jason emerged from the crowd with a cloth thrown over his head like a hood to hide his face, holding the gym bag under one arm. The grunts didnt ask questions, simply leading the duo off to the side, where a transport freshly unburdened of medical crates waited for them. Dirk wanted to start a conversation, but thankfully remembered that there were people watching them now. The conversations between them would have to be limited for the time being. After all, Jason was just a simple human weapon and Ares, his owner. Once the grunts went off to lead more mercenaries to their screening destinations, the large man tugged at Dirks shirt. - Ill put on the collar now and explain to you how the thing works. - he whispered under breath. - Why the hood? - the soldier, despite the circumstances, couldnt hold back his curiosity. - Peacekeepers are still mucking about, cant be too careful. Fair point. If one of them, even by the slightest serendipity, was showing off their patrol feed to someone higher up, they could spot Jason. Throughout the years the Empire''s Intelligence Department somehow never knocked on his door despite his connections with the previous Heavenly Witchdoctor. The regenerator intended to keep it that way and avoid goading fate. - This button here. - the large youngster brought the apparatus very closely resembling a TV remote to Dirks attention. - It locks the magnetic bond between the leash and the collar, keeping my movement restricted to wherever youre standing. No need to hold it tightly or exert your muscles, the link itself is dampening any force before it reaches you, so you can hold it with two fingers if you feel like it and I wont be able to move outside the range. As young Chrysos proceeded to enumerate all the specific functions to the older man, more grunts began to approach. Thankfully, during the showcase, Jason managed to get the collar on, so nothing was out of the ordinary. Despite that, once Ouroboros'' soldiers got closer, the giant fell silent, only slightly rocking his head up and down. He got into character real quick - the veteran applauded his acting skills. - Maybe thats his future path in life, instead of blue collar work. - You two. - one of the armed men spoke. - Youre a duo, right? - Thats right, me and my ''dog''. - Dirk turned around and patted Jason on the shoulder. - Were going in? - Follow us. With that simple command, both of them were led towards a large, double-decked, Ouroboros branded bus. Banners on the side were spreading information about the free vaccination for the non-existent virus strand, but the soldier knew better what really awaited inside. Their little procession stopped at the closed door on the rear end of the vehicle, where a pad-lock was sealing a heavy-duty door. One soldier stepped up to it, while the second obscured him by standing in front of two soon-to-be mercenaries. Dirk smiled at the armed guard before him and, surprisingly, the guy smiled back, pulling out something from his breast pocket. - You smoke? - he inquired, a crumpled pack of cigarettes in hand. - Will it take that long to get the passcode in? - Dirk replied, pulling out a zippo lighter from his back pocket. He swindled it from Jasons bag back at the bar. Not like he would need it while playing the role of an addled brute. - Procedures and such. - the Ouroboros enforcer rolled up his balaclava to put the cigarette in his mouth before handing the pack to Dirk. - Say no more. Ex-military. - the veteran extended his hands and lit up the other guys cigarette before doing the same for himself. - Spec-ops? - Yep. Howd you know? - Dirk furrowed his brows a bit. - The way you conduct yourself. Most jarheads that get into this line of work behave like theyre King Shit. - Heh, guess Im pretty bad at blending in, then. - Takes one, to know one. - the soldier responded, letting the smoke escape through his nostrils. - Dont worry, I know better than to ask for specifics. - Thanks. Dirks appreciation was genuine, as he didnt feel like making up a unit name and a whole backstory on the fly. They stood silently for a spell, just enjoying the smoke and breeze. A few minutes later, the time of parting arrived, as the other soldier stepped away from the opening doors. Both smokers threw their cigarette buds to the side and shook each other''s hands. - Thanks for the smoke. - Dirk spoke first. - Sure. If we end up in the same team within the convoy, well go through some introductions. - the grunt pulled his rolled up balaclava down and let go first. - Fine by me. With the little break for both parties reaching its conclusion, each side went their own separate way - Dirk and Jason entered the staircase inside the bus, while Ouroboros employees returned to menial escort tasks they were paid for. Chapter 9 - Machines and Machines The inside of the bus was exactly as one would imagine it. Two rows of seats and a path to walk between them, the only exception being that somewhere in the middle of its length the regular seats were replaced by their specialized counterparts. They were small, foldable and put in sideways, next to small tables. Perfect for blood donations. This time, however, they served a different purpose. - Please, take your seat. - a modulated voice sounded from the speakers. - Your weapon can do the same. Dirk followed the instructions, attentively searching for the speakers. His search proved fruitless, as the ever present darkness wrought about by the tinted windows limited his visibility. As he sat in the special seat with Jason right next to him, a peculiar machine descended from the ceiling. Looking like a humanoid torso, it ended at the solar plexus, being supported in the air by thick cords and tubes. Its singular, oval eye in the middle of its skull-shaped head lit up with a blinding white light. - Good afternoon. - it spoke in an unfittingly chirpy male voice. - For the sake of this interview my name will be John, I shall interview you, potential hire, about your work experience and any special skills you might possess. Be aware that this conversation will be monitored and recorded for the sake of brevity and security of Ouroboros medical company. Is there anything youd like to say before we start? - Will my weapon also be questioned, in its limited capacity? - Dirk didnt seem to be phased at all by the machine playing the role of his recruiter. - Negative. - it responded, not even glancing at Jason while talking about him. - Its capabilities shall be ascertained in a different manner before departure due to time constraints and the desire of Ouroboros company to keep a low profile. Is that all? - Yes. - Then let me begin the interrogation. - after those words, the machine suddenly shut down. The veteran couldnt help but raise an eyebrow at this sudden turn of events. But before he even opened his mouth, Johns eye lit up again, this time shedding green light. - Name, slash, callsign? - John''s voice now sounded much more monotonous. - ''Chernobog''. Using a name could prove a bit disastrous if he were to ever mix it up, call signs were much safer. But why choose some obscure Slavic god as his moniker? Ego, perhaps. It felt right to be called a gods name. - Years of combat experience? - without waiting or any confirmation, the machine continued. - Tw- twelve. - Dirk almost made a blunder, losing himself in reminiscence for a second. If he said the actual number of years he wore the military boots, it would probably raise unnecessary questions concerning his origins and inspire too many folks to start snooping where they shouldnt. Renown and notoriety are two sides of the same coin - he reminded himself as a warning. - Personal baggage? There it was, the part he revised with Jason on their way over. - Class B regenerator unit, broken and pacified, magnetic proximity leash, Gaol Helmet, a combat knife and a Makarov pistol with four spare magazines. - Dirk calmly enumerated, praying that he didnt forget anything. - How much are you able to sacrifice? The veteran suddenly looked up at the machine. He got so lost in recounting all the tools Jason showed him that he didnt notice when Johns eye color shifted again, this time to magenta. Add to that the voice which now sounded like a childs, throwing Dirk completely off. - How much are you able to sacrifice to ensure your survival, Chernobog? - the machine repeated itself. Something was different about the way it spoke and the light it shed. Its sentences sounded much more human, and Dirk felt an alien gaze peering into him. The question laid before him was nothing new. He asked himself the same thing many times over the years. But despite that, only recently did the old dog come up with the answer to it that he could get behind wholeheartedly. - Nothing. Because sacrificing anything implies failure, and success is my norm. - Well said. - the thing responded. The machines eye went dead for a split second, then returned to its green tint. - Special qualifications, slash, additional skills? - Recon, priority target elimination, strategic coordination. Expert level marksmanship with designated marksman rifles and small sidearms, sharpshooter with most others. CQC expertise, including Krav Maga and Mixed Martial Arts. Ability to operate most ground vehicles. - Specific achievements in the line of duty? - Classified. With a barely audible creak, John switched his persona again, back to magenta. - What is your opinion on the current situation within the Empire? - No comment. - Hmpf. - the puppet gave the most human response thus far, then switched to blue. - The preliminary interview has now concluded. Your applicant number is 38. You may proceed to the upper floor and await our decision. Be warned that violence within the confines of this transport is strictly forbidden. We at Ouroboros medical company value your time and appreciate your patience. A door at the front of the room opened with a crack and a hiss, presenting Dirk with a narrow staircase, just barely lit with a blue glow of a fluorescent lamp that stretched along its whole height leading up. Ares, or Chernobog now, made a show of tugging at Jasons leash, barely containing his surprise at the ease with which it exerted force on the regenerator, just as Jason had warned. They climbed the stairs and were greeted by a similar layout to the floor below, with two rows of old, shoddy looking seats. This time, however, they had company. Around four other people resided within this space, seated far apart from each other, minding their own business, fiddling with coins, necklaces, dog tags and other memorabilia, or whatever they had on hand to kill time. Other mercs. - Dirk surmised in his head, giving each a passing glance as he and Jason made their way to the back. It was a strategic choice. The back was the best, because it would allow the veteran to keep an eye on his potential colleagues with his own blind spots secured. There was also simple comfort in the back seat of a bus, but that was secondary. As he walked with Jason in tow, he passed a grizzled, but fit looking guy with a tribal tattoo around his right eye, a young lad somewhere around 25-30 with a red bandana on his neck and a cowboy hat hanged on his back, a woman who looked like she could break anyone in the room in half, and a jittery guy with this insane spark in his eye that Dirk could swear hed seen somewhere before. The mercs returned his curious gaze with ones of their own, some for longer than others, but mostly kept to themselves, even if Dirk could see flashes of disdain and disgust as they realized what Jason really was. It was to be expected, really. A reaction so predictable, that it was almost reassuring. The horror the first ever deployment of regenerators wrought was still fresh in the memory of people around the world, even if they werent directly affected, and even though the B type, which Jason was acting as, was a far cry from the sheer destructive power of those A type monstrosities, some still viewed the next generation with equal parts fear, reverence and hatred. Others, on the other hand, postulated that the usage of regenerators as a whole was a travesty. An affront to the very notions of human rights and dignity, for they saw those creatures as equally human and demanded them to be treated fairly. It was true that they possessed higher cognitive functions and looked more like regular people, but at the same time their resemblance was only skin deep. Dirk, however he took the pragmatic approach. He didnt know enough about this new batch to judge one way or another. The soldier simply didnt care enough to learn about them after his downfall, preferring to stay inside his own isolated little bubble, looking for happiness at the bottom of an empty bottle. A deep sigh escaped his mouth as he took his seat. The ones from way back when were truly abominable, attacking anything and everything on sight like rabid animals, seeking flesh to consume with single-minded determination. They were like locusts. Deadly pests to be exterminated, which he did but then there was Jason. No matter how Dirk looked at him, all he saw was just a naive boy looking for his place in the world. Dirk couldnt hate the regenerators, but he also couldnt blindly love them the way some people did, which only made this whole charade of him using Jason as his weapon seem all that harder to maintain. A necessary evil. - Dirk dubbed it. Perhaps calling it that would ease his mind. Time passed slowly, and despite some noise coming from both outside and inside the bus, no more people arrived at the upper floor of the vehicle. Instead, about an hour after Dirks interview, the hidden speakers came to life. - We at Ouroboros medical company thank all the applicants for their patience. The results shall now be announced. The passing individuals will be transported for practical evaluation. Applicants whose numbers are not announced are asked to leave the premises immediately. - the voice of John resounded through the room, his body nowhere to be seen. - Applicant number 7, applicant number 19, applicant number 21 and applicant number 38 have been selected for further evaluation. Once again, we at OuroboC Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.- Bullshit! - a voice rang out in the front. It was the jittery guy. - You cant do this to me, ya hear? - He shot up from his seat, screaming at the top of his lungs. - Applicant number 29, we respectfully ask you to vacate the premises. - I need this job! Ive got too many ungrateful fucking mouths to feed to go back empty-handed! - Applicant number 29, your review process has concluded. In spite of your impressive resume, you have been deemed unfit for the position. Immediately head for the nearest exit. - Oh, no, no, no. This wont end like this! - he mumbled with a deranged chuckle, turning around to face the other mercs, but his eyes seemed weirdly fixated on Dirk. - Its about the money, yeah? You just cant hire that many of us, yeah? - Applicant number 29, this is your final warning. Leave immediately. But the man was too far gone to listen. In a fraction of a second, he reached for the gun he kept in his back pocket, spurring the rest to do the same just milliseconds apart. Jason moved in front of Dirk, serving as cover and ready to pounce at the madman, muscles already bulging. But before the second even concluded and the man even had the chance to take aim, he fell to the floor, dead. His head twisted all the way around like a bottle cap. Behind him, none other than John hung from the ceiling, his cyclopean eye red as the blood that gushed from his victims mouth and nose. - Let me remind you that any and all violence is strictly forbidden within this transport. Ouroboros medical company does not take responsibility for any injuries or death resulting from breaking the company rules or any other unfortunate accidents. - he looked upon the fresh kill. - Cleaning services will be dispatched to your location in 9 9 9 9C The machine suddenly cut off, leaving the mercs to stare at it, not necessarily with shock, but at least a healthy dose of surprise. After a few seconds, it rebooted. - All the accepted applicants are now asked to move to another Ouroboros transport vehicle. Designated personnel will escort you there. We at Ouroboros medical company thank you for your cooperation. That spectacle sure left an impression on Dirk and other mercs, but death was part of their job description, so they simply left the bus as instructed, with the veteran leading the charge. Then came the surprising part, once outside he noticed a discrepancy. This place wasnt their original location. How didnt we feel even the smallest turbulence? - his face remained a featureless mask, but underneath he was quite disturbed. - Are we in some kind of hangar? After him, all the other mercs spilled out, equally confused. Some voiced their concerns, while others simply waited in calculating silence. Around them were nothing but colorless concrete pillars and other buses like theirs. - Do not be alarmed. - Johns voice reached their ears from all around, despite them being outside the bus. - Ouroboros company has displaced you into one of our testing facilities where you shall undergo a practical evaluation. Do not worry. We are proceeding with the next part of your evaluation. During the practical examination, your declared skill sets will be tested to ensure the quality of your services and your own safety. At the same time as John finished the explanation, one of the walls beside them lit up. A door-sized chunk slid open, revealing the elevator inside. From within, five soldiers emerged, dressed exactly the same as those at the vaccination point. Two stayed on both sides of the door, while the other three passed the band of mercs without saying a word and entered the bus. Balaclavas, goggles, harnesses and flak jackets, those troopers made Ouroboros look like a professional military circuit. - All temporary employees, please enter the elevator. - one of them asked in a commandeering tone. Since all the people left had more brain matter in their heads than participant 29, they did as requested, sparing only a few glanced back at the bus, curious as to what was happening inside. As Dirk got into the metal box, it turned out to be much more spacious than it seemed from the outside, as all seven of them managed to get inside and stand quite far away from each other, with personal space to spare. Leaning against the wall opposite to the exit, Dirk saw Jason kneeling in front of the gym bag. From his point of view, he could see that his fellow passengers all put their hands on their weapons the exact moment Jason suddenly took a knee. - Dont worry. Hes just putting on the mask. - Dirk explained with a stiff smile. - I need him primed and ready for the practicals, after all. It took a second, but a few passengers relaxed after those words. On the other hand, the hardy looking woman frowned instead. Chernobog couldnt tell why, but her expression seemed conflicted, stuck somewhere between doubt and curiosity. - Where did you get him? - she asked, just as the elevator closed and started moving. Her voice was surprisingly deep, but despite her hardy expression, Dirk felt no malice in her words. Hearing this question, the other mercenaries perked up, curious to know the answer since the moment he and Jason entered the bus. Dirk was thankfully prepared, having managed to read the script made by his regenerator pal at least twice. - The wastelands around City-18. Found him under some half-melted Empire transport - the veteran tried to keep it concise, so as not to oversell it. - He was practically fused to the rusting heap of scrap. - He didnt attack you? - one of the other mercs felt more confident asking questions after someone else started. - He tried, even though his neural center was completely wrecked. His arm swiped at me on instinct as I passed. The only reason I noticed him, really. Now even the Ouroboros grunts started listening to the story. Dirk was almost disappointed with how easily he got everyones attention with his lies. - And then what? - another one pressed him, obviously invested in the story. - I cut him off with some power tools, careful not to disturb the piece of metal that kept him dormant, and threw him onto my truck. I was hoping to make a nice buck by selling him to well, never mind those bastards. - Dirk sighed, shaking his head sideways, catching himself getting immersed in his own drivel. - But nobody wanted him. Too hard to control, and too expensive to maintain. So, here he is, trying to earn his stay. - But how did you get him working? - Ive got my contacts. It wasnt cheap, can tell you that much. Just as Dirk reached the closing act of this embarrassing charade, Jason got up again, wearing a large gilded helmet, shaped like a bovine skull with the horns of a ram. The image was quite bizarre, and it took the other people in the elevator a bit to compose themselves. Once they did, Dirk nudged Jasons shoulder with the leash controller and continued prattling on. - It cost me a pretty penny, but I got some more goodies thrown in with the servicing deal too, allowing me to manage the big guy easily. Hes pretty tame now, but still, I wouldnt try my luck with moving too suddenly or trying to aim in my general direction with him around. With the last line, Dirk chuckled, with a few others joining him. With this foolish stunt, he seemed to have garnered at least some shallow level of respect from the few mercs present. The story was bound to spread, like most gossip. Dirk just hoped that he wouldnt be the hottest topic out there. He wanted just enough respect to have a peace of mind. The last thing he wanted was for everyone to track his every move. The woman visibly relaxed, turning towards Dirk with an extended hand. - Guess it''s as good of a story as any. - she approached him, but kept looking at Jason, who remained docile. - Names Prusk. An introduction is the least I can do for this sudden interrogation, old man. Old man? - the veteran felt somewhat offended, but at the same time it gave him a rough estimate of her age. - Chernobog. - he reciprocated the gesture, immediately noticing the strength of her grip. - Its fine. They are not exactly a common sight. - Yeah. - she responded shortly, which Dirk felt was a little underwhelming. She wasnt even looking at Dirk. She kept on staring at the giant beside him. But that was fine, too. Her act simply painted a more vivid mental profile of her in Dirks head. Thus far, he could say one thing for certain. She is way too honest - he wanted to laugh so badly. - She looks pretty young, though, so that naivety is not all that surprising. But the extent of her innocence, as weird as that word sounded used in a room full of killers for hire, became apparent with her next action. Prusk turned to the side and extended the same hand to Jason, throwing everyone around for a loop, even though they all fought not to show anything on their faces. - Whats his? - she asked nonchalantly, not really grasping the weight of her actions. - H-his? You mean the regenerators name? - playing out this sentence made Chernobog cringe. - I called him Argonaut. Im not very creative with names, now that I think about it. - Yeah, no shit. - despite her gesture garnering no reaction from Jason, she kept it up. - Do you have to, like, allow him to shake my hand? - Pretty much. HC Those things are not very smart. They are obedient, though Unlike those A-class beasts. - a mere mention of those super-weapons of old caused the air in the elevator to become heavy. Not a single man of any nation liked discussing what happened during the Red Rebellion, not even its victors. Those few months when they roamed the Earth were a black stain on the history of mankind, one that nothing would ever wash away, so the next best thing was to act like it never occurred. Seeing as Prusk was only turning the whole elevator ride more and more awkward by the minute, Dirk turned towards Jason and pointed the leash toward him. - Argonaut, shake! - he ordered, and the weapon complied. The giant wall of muscles turned towards the woman standing beside it. The regenerator raised his hand, a simple gesture that on its own raised the temperature in the elevator by a couple of degrees. Prusk, either oblivious or irrationally brave, smiled slightly. The beast slowly and mechanically moved the hand towards her and grasped it. His grasp was very weak, almost pathetic to the outside eye. Masterfully played. - Dirk applauded Jasons choice of action internally. - Im Prusk, looking forward to working with ya Argonaut. - her words were met with silence. Prusk shook the regenerator''s limp arm up and down a few times before letting go. The other mercenaries smiled slightly or even chuckled, seeing the arm attached to this palace of muscles that was Argonaut simply flailing about with no strength behind it. It was as if she was playing with a harmless marionette. Then the elevator let out a shrill ping, marking the end of its descent. Chapter 10 - Starting Blocks What waited for them outside was a stark contrast to what Dirk expected and judging by the looks of the other mercs, they were equally dumbfounded. The elevator doors led them not into some high-tech facility or a paramilitary installation, but what looked like a foyer of a hospital. It looked ordinary enough, but there was not a single living soul in sight. An oddity which immediately rang some alarm bells. The reception desk stood empty, and so did the rows of plastic seats lining the walls by the doctors'' offices. It was just the mercs, the guards and the deafening silence bearing down on them. - Everyone, follow me. - one of the Ouroboros soldiers moved ahead. - Do keep up, straying will be considered a violation of corporate rules of conduct. With a simple, quick and comprehensible explanation, the group started to cross the empty corridors in strides. Despite the warning, there really was no way in which any of them could stray from the pack. The first of Ouroboros'' lackeys led the charge, while his colleague kept the tail-end secured, keeping them grouped up. Passing room after room, corridor after corridor, nothing caught Dirks attention. The place was deserted, but kept eerily clean. Despite all that, he remained completely at ease. In the old days, Dirk came to similar places very often. It was the charm and the curse of the Imperial Palace. It was enormous. A monolith. But its size made all the vast spaces and long corridors inside feel empty and devoid of life. While the current setting visibly upset a few of the other mercs, Dirk couldnt help but feel a little nostalgic. He remembered all those long walks between debriefings and missions. It was like he was finally coming back to where he belonged after a long time abroad. A smile must have creeped onto his face, because he felt Jason gave him a side-eye through the golden helmet. - Shush you. - Dirk whispered. - Let a man enjoy the little things. Even if Chernobog couldnt see it, under the high-tech apparatus concealing his whole head, Jason smiled, finally seeing his childhood hero happy again. After a while, their procession came to a halt in front of a double wing door. There was nothing special about it. Just a large, pristine portal with shaded glass and an automated opening system. That last detail was a guess on Dirks part, as there was no door handle, no key card reader or even a keypad in sight. His theory proved to be correct, as the leading soldier gestured to the other mercs to step back. Once alone, the smooth wall above the door cracked open, revealing a camera on a thin mechanical arm. It lowered itself towards the Ouroboros employee and stopped in front of his face. Some lights turned on, illuminating the mans face, but Dirk couldnt exactly make out what was happening due to other mercs obscuring his vision. - Access granted. Welcome, security unit member Epsilon - 245. - a female voice mused from around them. - Have a pleasant and productive day. - Epsilon - 245? Damn, thats one way to make a cog out of a man! - the merc with the tattoo on his eye scoffed, garnering no reaction from the man he referred to. - Do you get collars too? When the gate fully opened, the two guards assumed their positions on each of its sides, ushering the mercs in. Inside was a long corridor that smelled of detergents. - Proceed to the end of the corridor and enter the test chamber. The Ouroboros company thanks you for your cooperation. - the Epsilon grunt said, his tone robotic, as if he was reading from a script. No longer led by the hand and with the objective clearly in sight, the mercenaries passed the threshold and proceeded through the corridor, their two escorts standing guard. Dirk glanced back at them, but the door closed as soon as he stepped through, obscuring them from his sight. They were on their own, but the feeling of being observed was now stronger than ever. - Well, that was boring. - Prusk approached with a yawn. - I wouldnt be surprised if most of our time with the convoy looked similar. - he responded as he walked. - Driving through the wasteland and all. Jason walked a step behind on his left, and the woman matched his pace on his right. It surprised Dirk a little how chummy she was getting right out of the gate. - If thats the case, then the radio will at least fill the dead air in the cockpit. - she interlocked her fingers behind her head. - Youre applying as a convoy driver? - Dirk raised an eyebrow. - Judging by your build, I expected you to be more of a frontline type of gal. Despite being the same height as the old veteran, at a glance, the woman beside him had twice the muscle mass he did. Even with the whole body covered by one-piece overalls and a jacket on top, it only took one little glimpse at her exposed forearms for Dirk to realize that unlike Misha, she got the strength and the mass. It must have taken a lot of time and effort to achieve those results, doubly so for a woman In response to his comment, Prusk started laughing. - Did I say something funny? - Chernobog didnt hide his confusion. - No, no, its just that I never thought an old-timer like you would ever be so direct about my looks. - she wiped a small tear forming in the corner of her eye. - I always thought most old people liked their women in the kitchen, not on the battlefield. - Im not that old. - Dirk protested, rolling his eyes. - Dying in the safety of a nursing home after a life of housework or within a ditch in the middle of nowhere is a personal choice in these times. The battlefield doesnt care about your race or gender, and neither do good soldiers. Its kill or be killed. We are all just numbers to historians, after all. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.- Thats pretty fucking grim, old man. Which one are you? - Pardon? - A soldier. Are you a good one then, or a bad one? - a spark of curiosity lit up in her eyes. - Used to be a good soldier, a committed one. - Dirk looked at the ceiling, where luminescent lights stretched on and on. - Now Im simply a has-been. In response to those words, an enormous force hit his back, knocking the air out of him. He stumbled a bit, surprised by the sudden strike. Didnt take him long to figure out who did it. - I guess even if some aspects of you arent old, your head can go into that retro mode. - Prusk chuckled. - Most of you old folk like to mope about what once was, thats why you need us young ones around. So you dont get lost in the sauce. Dirk regained his footing and snorted. - We just met each other. Dont get ahead of yourself. - the veteran played tough, to regain some dignity. Usually he wasnt much for following proper conduct. - Next time you pull a stunt like this, Ill kick your ass, kid. - Ill be looking forward to that. - she smiled coyly. - Dont pop a gasket until then, though. But going back to your question before you went all mopey. I aint no convoy driver, Im a mech pilot. - A mech pilot? - Dirk was quite surprised by that revelation. - You know, a mechanized armored suit? A big robot? - I know what that means, I just never expected to have one of those as a part of our convoy. That was quite a stratagem. Just as mechanized infantry took over the battlefield years ago, only to be replaced by planes and later helicopters, mechs were the next technological step when it came to infantry support. As durable as a tank and with comparable firepower, while also sporting the ability to cover all types of terrain and redeploy at a moment''s notice, they were currently at the pinnacle of the ground-based combat. Unfortunately, despite being one of the most technically advanced nations in the world, even the Empire couldnt mass produce those things. The costs of maintenance, components and training of potential pilots made mechs the most expensive branch of the military. It ensured that infantry backed by air or heavy vehicle support would still remain as the de-facto way of waging warfare at a large scale. The young woman planted both hands on her hips and puffed up her chest, proudly. - My sister and I are quite amazing like that. You are welcome to praise our technological prowess and ingenuity. - That will have to wait. Were here. The other two mercenaries beside them were already waiting at the door. - You sure took your sweet-ass time, love birds. - the tattoo guy spoke. - Hey! Some of us have standards. - Prusk snapped back. - Why didnt you guys go through? - All participants accounted for. - the synthesized voice from before answered her question. - Welcome to the test chamber number 5. The examiner inside will guide you through the practical tests that await you. Ouroboros medical company thanks you all for your compliance, have a productive and pleasant day. As the doors automatically opened, all the mercenaries stumbled through. Inside, they were met with something straight out of a movie. An enormous yellow and white 1:1 diorama of a city. Streets, streetlights, buildings big and small spread before them as far as the eye could see. Even cars lined the streets, accompanied by mannequins filling in the roles of pedestrians on the sidewalks. - What the fuck. - for the first time, the hired gun with a cowboy hat spoke. - Welcome. Suddenly, a new voice made all of them, except Jason, jitter and turn around. From within one of the cars emerged a man in a pristine, white suit. He didnt appear to be armed, but Dirk learned that it didnt mean much on Ouroboros turf. At any time, something could snap your neck before you realized. - My name is Tom Holder. I am a Junior Human Resources Acquisition manager within the east branch of Ouroboros company. You can simply call me Tom. There was nothing that particularly stood out about him. He had an all white business tux, a black tie, slick back hair and fair skin. He was as average as they came, but juxtaposed against the city mock-up, he looked fairly out of place. - Today, Ill be leading you all through personalized test chambers, meant to check the validity of the resumes you provided us, and to assign you to proper teams within Convoy 4. - Convoy 4? - the tattooed guy said aloud what they all thought. - There are more than one? - I cannot answer that question at the moment, it is currently classified. - Toms face looked as if he was genuinely distraught by the red tape. - Once the tests conclude and your places are assigned, all temporary employees shall be gathered for further briefing. To that explanation, the tattooed guy said something under breath and pressed no further. Tom looked over the faces of all the other mercenaries, just to ensure that there were no more last-minute inquiries. - Good. Then moving along. - the junior manager snapped his fingers and a table sprung up from the ground before him. - Before you lay four long range communicators, they are already paired, just take one and put it in your ear of choice. All mercs did as instructed, sensing that the action was finally coming. Dirk was a little disappointed that there wasnt one for Jason, but alas, he was a weapon for the purpose of this job. - Now. Follow the lit path, thats where each of you shall find the personalized test areas. - as he said it, neon paths appeared under each of the mercenaries, leading off into the city. - Ill be watching and good luck. With the explanation concluded, Tom Holder turned around and went back to the car from which he emerged. - See ya on the flip-side, old man! - Prusk was first to act. She bolted with a small hand wave as soon as Tom shut his mouth, disappearing within one of the buildings. The two other mercenaries somehow interpreted her words as a challenge. They followed suit and started running along their own neon paths. Why did they think it was a race anyway? How childish. Or maybe its me whos gotten old. - with a sigh, Dirk began his stroll, led by a bright, white path of his own. Chapter 11 - “The Race” Dirks neon path led him off to the side and down a narrow side alley between the mock buildings. He couldnt help but look up towards the dark ceiling above and wonder just what kind of money Ouroboros had to pump into this place. The chamber housing the fake city was massive, perhaps equalling even the underground hangars below the Imperial Palace. Well, at least one of them. Still, it was an amazing sight to behold, but one just had to wonder. How? How did Ouroboros manage to excavate all this space? And how come Dirk never even heard of this place during his active service for the Empire in the first place? Gigatons of dirt and rock had to be moved to achieve those results, and that in itself would take years, if not decades, to complete. Money was, of course, of no concern to the medical company, but logistically something didnt add up. Was Ouroboros that good at concealing their activities from Imperial spies scattered throughout the Russian lands, or was something else afoot here? Because when thinking of any high-caliber excavations in the past two decades or so, Dirk drew a complete blank. This place either had to be way older than that, or new and constructed in complete secrecy. Dirk leaned towards the second option, which in all honesty unnerved him a little. Ouroboros has always been its own entity separate from the Empire, merely serving under it, but this level of unsanctioned activity would require an ungodly amount of money, influence and workforce. But either way, it was impressive that Ouroboros had training grounds this massive at their disposal. It wouldnt be weird if they trained their own special forces here in urban warfare and the like. If they could somehow get a tank down here, a few armored transports and a bunch of mortars, all filled with blank ammunition, it would be a perfect playground to really get some war games going. Dirk smiled. When he was starting out, he didnt get to enjoy such simulations. Hed gotten his experience out in the field out of necessity. The Empire of old never bothered with mock scenarios. It had too many enemies at all times to afford it. But this? This certainly tickled the God of War the right way. He''d seen too many young lads die a pointless death in his early days. Deaths that could have been prevented with some practice in a controlled environment. Well maybe. Maybe not. Nothing beats first-hand experience, and even the best cadets from prestigious military academies could crumble when faced with the harsh reality of the battlefield. Dirk shook his head to clear his mind. He now stood in front of a gate leading into a courtyard of what looked like a high school, complete with mannequins wearing backpacks and carrying books in their hands, all wearing stereotypical teen clothes. As much as a complete mishmash of colors and styles can be classified as stereotypical, at the very least. He stepped through the gate as the arrow instructed him, and his earpiece crackled to life. - Welcome, Chernobog, to your first trial. Here, your ability with weapons will be tested. - the voice of Tom Holder explained with a fittingly official tone. As he spoke, something groaned and hissed on Dirks right and the floor opened, revealing a table full of weapons, ranging from small pistols through AR''s to DMRs, complete with a small selection of grenades of differing levels of lethality. Right after the small arsenal, a few targets emerged throughout the courtyard, creating a not half bad shooting range. - During your interview, youve declared high levels of proficiency with most weapons. As such, we present you with a selection of armaments most used by conventional military organizations around the world, and ask that you select the ones most appropriate for the mission. - And the mission is? - he asked dryly, putting a finger on the earpiece, already analyzing the arsenal before him. - I cannot disclose that at the current moment. - there was a note of barely hidden mockery in his voice, as if he was having fun. - You may, however, use them at the provided targets to get a feel for them. We also ask that for the purposes of this test you do not use your personal weapons. - Roger. - he answered, shooting a glance towards Jason, who without a word simply took a spot by the gate. Chernobog tugged at his hard-fought Makarov to make sure it was secured and approached the table, scrutinizing each option with utmost care. They must have brought me here specifically for a reason. - he thought, thinking of the school building. - Cramped, populated spaces and long corridors. Many doors and windows. - his eyes glided over the surrounding buildings. - Good sight lines. He reached for a pistol first. In this place it would be his lifeline. He took a firing stance and sent three shots at three different targets at 5, 25 and 50 meters respectively in quick succession. The first two hit bullseye, but the last veered off to the side. Ill have to work on that. - he thought, stretching his fingers and equipping the gun. Thankfully, it came with its own holster. He passed over the ARs and the sniper rifles. Their strengths didnt justify their applications here. The DMR was a sweet middle ground, though. He took one in his hands and again fired the three test shots, landing them without any issue. The scope made a huge difference. The rifles kick also felt good in his hands, making him hope that the company-provided weapons wouldnt be as bad as he expected. A shotgun seemed tempting to breach and clear, but he reminded himself that school-quality doors were probably made of cardboard anyway. Nothing a shot or two at the hinges couldnt best. With the DMR slung over his shoulder he inspected the grenades. There were three, each one unique. The fragmentation one was out of the question. The smoke he could probably use, but it carried a risk of obstructing surprise enemies from his sight. But it could prove indispensable in a scramble, so he grabbed it alongside the flash-grenade. - Im ready. Awaiting instructions. - Dirk spoke into the microphone. - You make my job too easy. - Tom said with a neutral tone, but it was easy to imagine him with a smirk. - Well then With a snap the mannequins suddenly came alive with eerie realism in a whirlwind of chaotic activity, as if before time was stopped, and it just started back again. They walked around, formed groups with matching outfits and even played pre-recorded conversations, adding to the uncanny effect that their smooth, blank faces gave off. - The scenario is as follows: a rival group has stolen precious cargo and is currently hiding in this facility. Locate them and retrieve the package. - Toms uninterested voice reflected the mundane nature of the mission. - You will be judged on your time, decision-making ability and general weapon proficiency. While the objective is your top priority, excessive property damage and civilian casualties will be penalized. - May I ask about the cargos description and properties? - he asked, scooping up his messy mane and rolling it up into a bun. - You may not, classified information. - the latent mockery in his voice returned. He definitely was having fun. - Alright, lets start. There was nothing more he could squeeze out of the Ouroboros executive, so instead Dirk reloaded the mag inside his pistol before switching to the DMR. None of those weapons were in any way, shape or form reminiscent of things he used to see on the battlefield, which made describing them based solely on gun type preferable. No manufacturer number on these - the veteran thought, running up towards one of the fake trees in the courtyard, snaking through the teenage crowd. - which means they were 3D printed. They are untraceable and easy to produce en-masse." - the concept wasn''t alien to Dirk. The Empire had printed its own fair share of guns over the years, with the caveat that they were all clearly marked as ''passable copies'' of the Heavenly Witchdoctor''s designs. In that department, Ouroboros seemed at least that much more professional. Practically jumping up the tree, Dirk was thankful for its sturdy, artificial nature. It was made of some polyester-like material, painted over and covered with some rough outer shell, to ensure texture similar to bark. If it was a real plant, there was always a chance its branches could break under his weight, but with that one he could prioritize speed over safety. - Impressive moves. - mused Tom, unveiling that everything was under his direct, watchful gaze. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Chernobog was already in the zone, not even catching the throw-away comment. He simply checked every window viewable from the courtyard, ensuring that no enemies were stupid enough to expose themselves to fire from outside. They werent that dumb. But dumb enough. The windows around the 3rd floor had their shutters meticulously pulled down, while none others did. Something had to be behind them. Something the enemy wanted to stay out of sight. - ROE? - Dirk asked the final question. - Remember to have fun. - Tom responded with an audible smile. - Argonaut, to me. - he didnt have to yell the order out, Jason''s hearing was superhuman after all. - Remove the first limiter. As part of their theatrical act, Jason threw the coat off himself, leaving only a tight black t-shirt covering his musculature. It was identical to the one which underwent spontaneous detonation in Mishas underground ring. Jason closed the distance in a flash, stopping just as his owner jumped down the tree and gave two simple orders - Toss me and then remain in front of the building. Let no one leave the premises. Jason froze. - I said toss me. Towards the rooftop, 65-degree angle. Dont put full strength into it. - what he was describing sounded like complete rambling to the confused boy. But Jason knew better than to question a man whose reason for living was war about the rationality of his actions. Hes not that crazy Russian, he wouldnt take unnecessary risks. - the regenerator reassured himself and simply grabbed Dirk by the waist. It must have looked quite surreal to the outside observer, a tall man turning another person in their hands as if they were nothing but a long, thick stick. The soldier kept his hands close to his chest, with legs outstretched and stiff, all the while looking attentively towards the building. Jason, with a head of a golden bovine, held him like the warriors of old did their javelins, preparing for the throw. - May I know what youre doing? - Tom spoke again, this time a bit confused. - I think I explicitly stated this trial is meant for you, not your human weapon. - The objective starts within the facility as I was told. The Rules of Engagement did not forbid the change of the infiltration point. - Dirks'' tone was flat, but his listener wasnt stupid. - Oh, so youre a smartass, huh? - Resourceful is the proper word. Argonaut, now! With that command, Jason hummed loudly and took a hard stomp forward. With his form steady as a rock, he pulled the Chernobog-javelin backwards, twisting his own body at the hip. Every possible point which could add to the force and speed of the movement went into motion - shoulder capsule, wrist, hips, every joint and muscle group. Then came a short and abrupt roar. To its sound, the god of war took flight. Air hit his face as he barreled upwards at a breakneck speed, his thick, messy beard fluttering in the wind, being his only insulation against the wind pressing down on his face. His flight took but a moment, but left him drenched in cold sweat, even more so than after his fight with Ajax''s lackey. There was no room for error. If he fucked up, he would die. Dirk extended his arms forward. Flying belly-down with all the equipment dangling off there was only one way to go about it while minimizing danger - tiger dive as people versed in parkour call it. Now he had to ensure that the point of contact with the roof would be the area around his shoulder blades. With his legs outstretched and arms angled slightly downwards he dove towards the concrete area stretching below. In a form not so different from those utilized by professional swimmers to start a 100 meter race Chernobog made contact, or he would have if he didnt curl up towards the center of mass at the last possible moment, smoothly shifting into a front roll starting from the area of his nape. To lose as much speed as possible he made two more before springing up. In mid air he made two quick spins to lose even more momentum before landing securely in a cloud of dust. He finally came to a stop, not much worse for wear, except a slightly sore neck. God damn, that shaved years off my life - the soldier thought, trying to calm down, the sound of rushing blood loud in his ears. - Thankfully, my ass and thighs cushioned the fall a little. Extra flab has its uses too, from time to time. - That was the dumbest, most insane maneuver I have ever seen anyone pull, not only inside these walls, but in the whole wide world. - Tom sounded genuinely awe-struck. - Youre not very well in the head, old man, are you? - Why dont you stick around and find out? - with this foreboding statement, the soldier got up and immediately turned off the safety on both his guns. The roof was clear and the door to the stairway leading down was within sight, so Dirk took a low stance with the handgun in both hands and proceeded onward. His plan was coming together nicely. Maybe it wasnt as extravagant as he used to make them in his days of leading a whole unit, but it would have to do. He wasnt exactly being showered with options here. His stunt might have been brave. Crazy even, but it was still meticulously calculated. Based on uniforms worn by the mannequins and their pre-recorded messages, Dirk concluded that the facility in this trial was a high-school. From what he gleamed, listening to the fake kids, he had roughly a five-minute window to infiltrate the whole building from the ground floor, because no class began later than 8:00, and the enormous clock at the front of the school pointed to 7:55. Such a scenario was simply too unfavorable. There were too many unknown targets, and obstructions, too much noise and possible collateral if any of the assailants were to open fire on-sight. The only logical option was changing the infiltration point closer to the target and away from bystanders. The possible targets were on the 3rd floor. - he recounted, opening the roof-access door and checking the stairway. - If I approach from the top, I can limit the chance of children getting caught in the cross-fire. Going down from the rooftop to the third floor, Dirk stuck to the wall and peeked into the corridor ahead. His suspicions rang true as three mannequins armed with ARs patrolled around. He took a knee and started listening. Three pairs of footsteps up ahead, and rumbled from below. There were no cries for help or sounds of shuffling nearby, which meant the assailants likely had no hostages. Hopefully. Once the patrolling mannequins turned around, he ran in a hunched position towards the next corner, leading directly into the corridor where his objective likely was. No tangos seemed to notice him as he infiltrated their lines, probably ascribing his footsteps to the children below. They were either intentionally programmed as amateurs, or their programming was simply lacking, but either way Dirk felt his immersion wavering a bit. Still, this was just a manufactured scenario, so getting immersed was secondary to testing his skills. As one of the mannequins drew close, its patrol path turned the corner, behind which the veteran hid. In response, Dirk temporarily holstered his gun. Once the hostiles featureless face appeared in his sight, Dirk sprung to action. With one hand he switched the safety on the enemys gun, hitting its windpipe with the other. Before the machine''s body could even react, the soldier grabbed it and pulled it behind the corner along with its rifle. He then broke its neck and gently laid it on the floor. For a moment everything went still. Everything except Dirk. There was no time for a pause. Momentum was key, speed was war. Dirk removed the magazine from the poached AR and jolted from the corner, crouched-running towards two more targets. Once relatively close, he threw the mag ahead of them, drawing their attention. - What the? - a compressed audio clip played in response. Dirk snapped the neck of the first target closer to him in one smooth motion, this time, however, letting the body fall to the floor with a loud thud. - Hey, whats wro- Before the audio stinger could even finish, Chernobog swept the second opponent off its legs, making it fall to the ground with even more noise. Thankfully, Dirk caught the AR midair to ensure no accidental discharges. Not a second later, he rammed the intercepted weapons stock into its original wielders throat, crushing it. The machine started spasming, emulating a human gasping for air. If those machines werent as good at mimicking humans as they were, all flaws included, this whole thing would have turned much, much uglier. But fortunately, Dirk made the right assumption about the amount of budget Ouroboros sank into this training facility. - Whats the ruckus? - Whats the ruckus? - Whats the- Three more voices resounded from all the rooms with obstructed windows. Just as planned. Once the synchronized sounds of door knobs turning reached his ears, he reached under the coat and grabbed both grenades. Dirk threw them at the two targets furthest away, hitting their noses and disorientating them for a single moment. One he didnt waste. - Whats going on- Cutting off the voice clip for the third time, he ran up and repeating the maneuver from before, turning the safety on and snapping the neck. Before the other two could come to, the veteran grabbed the DMR by the barrel and hit one of the automatons in the temple with the stock, knocking him out instantly. The third one he simply slid into, letting gravity do the rest of the work. As the machine fell, with its feet abruptly kicked into the air, Dirk placed the stock of the DMR underneath it, while being pushed forward by the momentum. Once the opponent fell, its neck perfectly landed at the butt of the gun. A loud crunch marking the veterans victory. As Dirk got up, a curtain of hair fell on his face. The bun came undone, and his wild mane of hair suddenly blocked his vision. Had it done that moments earlier, the outcome of the fight could have been drastically different. - Shit. - he cussed under breath, redoing the hairdo. - All targets neutralized. Proceeding to secure the package. As he spoke those words, the last of his enemies drew his final fake breath. Chapter 12 - The Instinct Back down on the ground, Jason was keeping watch on the school, straining his hearing to pick up even a scrap of information about what was happening on the inside. A foolish endeavor, as the all-present chatter of the mannequins made it almost impossible to pick up the finer audio details, even with his enhanced sense of hearing. That, and Dirk seemed to be working extra quietly. The giant had no doubt that the old man stuck the landing without much issue, but that didnt prevent his mind from running wild with all the worst possible scenarios. What if he got knocked out? Or worse yet, cut, or broke a bone. - he wanted to scratch his skin as a stress reaction, something he often did unconsciously, but stopped himself, being extra careful to stay in the role. There were probably cameras around. But aside from the doomsaying voice of worry, there was also one of restlessness. That one, however, was not his own. Get in there and crack some skulls. - the voice egged him on, its sound raspy and whisper-like one moment, and deep and bubbling the next. An ever-changing cacophony of sounds bumping around in Jasons head. We didnt come here to spectate. We came to get a taste of our true purpose, and youre denying us that. - with those words, the artery on Jasons neck flashed a faint hue of gold for a split second. We are on standby. Learn some discipline, because well be needing a lot of it if we even make it into the convoy. - Jason answered in his head, keeping up his show of robotic bobbing and slight twitching to the outside eye. Discipline? - the voice boomed, almost making Jason flinch. - You dare lecture me about discipline? For years Ive kept in the shadows, letting you live out your foolish fantasy, subsisting on pathetic scraps of my purpose you threw my way. For years Ive been denied the feast that is total carnage, our true calling. No more, Chrysos. The pot is starting to boil over. - with each word glazed equally in simmering rage and sweet temptation, parts of Jasons body lit up underneath his clothes, as if taunting him, threatening to expose him on tape, however never truly giving away the secret. Behave yourself, you demon. - Jason seethed on the inside, keeping his cool on the outside. Oh? A demon? Is that what you naively think of me? - the voice cackled. - What do you think that makes you? A little angel to oppose me? Fool. We are two sides of the same coin. One double-edged sword. The Alpha and the Omega. - bile surged within the voice, making Jason shiver. - Things may start with you, but theyll always end with me. As those words rang out in his head, Jason felt weak in the legs as pain spread from his feet all the way up to his torso, a disgusting wet feeling encompassing his feet. Behave yourself! If we fuck things up now, there will be no convoy. No mission! No conflict! There will always be conflict. This is how humans operate. Killing each other for their own gains, trampling on the lives of others to feast on their rotting corpses. We just have to insert ourselves right in the midst of battle. Which one? It couldnt matter less. Just let loose andC Before the voice finished, something tapped Jason on the shoulder, instantly pulling him out of his little mind palace. - What are you? - one of the mannequins played a line to him, curiously poking at him with a segmented finger. The regenerator merely turned towards it slowly, making sure to play his part of an obedient, but self-sufficient weapon. - A sheep? A goat? Kinda weird. Did you pick the helmet yourself? - the automaton kept pestering him, poking and poking, but not getting a reaction. Was this a part of the scenario? Was this meant to test his composure when not under direct and strict supervision from Dirk? Perhaps. But there was something very odd about the little robot. It wore a plain white t-shirt and loose black pants. It seemed like the definition of the word default. - Can you talk? - another pointless question was thrown his way. Of course he could. And obviously he wouldnt. - Oh! - the thing perked up a bit, but in voice only. - Sorry, you are probably confused. Its me, Prusk! Im done with my first trial, so I hijacked one of the robots to talk to you! The woman from before? That threw Jason in for a loop. Why would she even want to talk to him? He made it very apparent that he was mindless. Naive. How very naive But it also made Jason crack a smile on the inside. The honesty with which she approached him then and now was fresh, for the lack of a better word. He couldnt parse his feelings any further, though, not now, so he stopped this train of thought, instead focusing on the cold reality. How did she even hijack the thing? The mannequins were all white noise, disposable and numerous, Jason guessed, but they were still Ouroboros'' property in a secret military compound. It couldnt have been easy. Worse yet, it probably didnt go unnoticed by Tom Holder, or whoever else was in charge of operating this busy throng of fake people. It was bound to bring even more attention to him, and the idea annoyed Jason slightly. It was already pretty hard to keep all his emotions and reactions in check, and now he felt the gaze of prying eyes pierce him from every direction. Or perhaps he just got conscious and paranoid. Let loose. I bet that if you go out of control, theyll send some dangerous people to subjugate you. Good luck with that, but its bound to be stimulating. - throughout the whole interaction, Fleece kept bothering him on the mental front, threatening to completely overload Jasons mind. Shut up. - Jason answered in his mind, feeling his pressure rise as the double assault of words continued. - Does your master... treat you well? - Prusk asked through the stolen surrogate, blissfully unaware of something that caught Jasons eye on the rooftops. He saw movement in the corner of his eye, but opted not to turn without direct outside interaction to really sell his act, but from what he could understand, there were dozens of things moving there, busily taking positions at the edges of the surrounding buildings. Were they..? Oh shit! - he cut off Fleeces rambling as his head filled with alarm sirens. - Snipers. Despite the sudden turn of events and the incessant distractions and goading coming from the most unwelcome co-host of his body, Jason knew better than to slip up and break the kayfabe. His whole body shook, and muscles defied the laws of nature, ballooning out to unimaginable proportions as a net of gold spread underneath his skin. The Mannequin inhabited by Prusk shuddered, despite being just a stand-in for the real person. Or perhaps it was the ground underneath its feet that sent tremors through the metal body, unsettled by Jasons activation. - Whats wrong? - she asked in a worried tone. Argonaut roared on the top of his lungs in response, looking towards the rooftops. Prusks avatar looked on in apparent horror at the grotesque display of primal fury, but the puppeteer inside remained vigilant even in spite of it. Just as quickly as Jasons sudden rage shifted fully to the rooftops, so did the mannequins attention. The woman caught on pretty quickly, dashing to the side, out of the giants way. He was a predator, and up there was his prey. Fighting against the reckless urge, he froze in place, flexing every muscle in his body erratically, struggling to disperse the latent energies inside him. His hands were tied, and by none other than his master. Dirk gave the boy an order to wait, and so he would, probably much to the amusement of one peeping Tom overseeing this evaluation. Like a ping in the dead silence of the night, his collar emitted a sound only he could hear. So hes fine. - Jason expelled a long held breath. - And even noticed my roar. The signal left no room for doubt. It was foolproof, after all, courtesy of Witchdoctor Chrysos. It came straight from Dirks leash. The collar Jason wore was the real deal and retained all the functions necessary to make the regenerators dance to their masters tunes. He received an order to his neural system directly as the B-class regenerator he was playing would, but unlike his lobotomized counterparts, the disposable, biological war-machines, his mental faculties were fully intact. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. He felt the shivering signal traveling up his spine. It filled him with relief that he could finally help. The order was loud and clear: Neutralize with extreme prejudice, limit collateral. Argonauts t-shirt got suddenly torn asunder, as the almost three-meter tall behemoth launched itself towards the roof. In a blink of an eye, one of the edges of the school gymnasium exploded in a cloud of dust and debris. To ensure that none of them would harm the few students who were still loitering outside, young Chrysos curled up into a ball mid-flight, to limit the impact area. His idea proved successful as none were harmed by the few falling chunks of concrete. The same couldnt have been said about the two mannequins with guns who took cover near the impact zone. Their bodies laid strewn about the roof. Yes! Thats what Im talking about! - Fleece applauded, filling his head with noise. - Tear them apart! Let the slaughter begin! It didnt happen often, but in this instance, Jason had to agree with it. He roared once again, his voice escaping his gut, no longer sounding human in the slightest, replaced by an incoherent amalgam of wild animals, trying to terrify their prey. The mannequins surrounding him started playing loud voice clips, but Argonaut couldnt hear them, not with Fleece as aroused as it was. First shots rang, hitting many different spots in his body. Wounds formed, bullets ripped through skin and sinew alike. He felt it everywhere, the radiating pulses of pain. Oh yeah baby! Its that good shit! - Fleece said, or maybe it was him? Jason could not tell anymore, everything inside his skull was a mess. - Not like those bitch-ass slaps of that Russian cunt! This is what we live for! This is the supreme authority of- On instinct, the man-shaped behemoth pounced and, with its weight alone propelled with unimaginable force, turned another two machines into oily paste. -OF VIOLENCE! He lost it. It was way too long since he experienced this. Even if it was nothing but a simple simulation, to him, it felt all too real. It was the proof of Ouroboros craftsmanship and ingenuity. To create such lifelike prey. All the high caliber bullets hitting him felt like playful nudges, begging him for more. The beast grabbed the torn body parts of the automatons and turned around 180 degrees, snapping his own spine in the process. But it was no matter. As he let the improvised projectiles go his spinal cord already fixed itself. Without stopping this murderous momentum, his head clad in the golden helmet snapped around in search of new targets, There was no need to check if his previous victims were dead, the deafening crash of mangled metal was enough of a proof. More mannequins appeared in his hazy line of sight. Keep em coming, keep em dying! - the inner voice roared with ecstasy as the regenerator''s body moved on autopilot. Breaking into a mad sprint, he simply ran into the next group, which desperately shot at him. One died on the spot, being trampled underfoot. Another one flew backwards, torn to pieces by a simple swat of Argonauts hand. The next two stabbed something into him, probably bayonets. Blades? Ill show you real blades! - in response, the beast outstretched its fingers on both hands, keeping them together, as if ready to slap someone over the head. But a mere slap wouldnt do this carnival of carnage justice. His straight, open hands cut through metal carapaces like butter, bisecting two mannequins like they were nothing. But it wasnt enough, there had to be more. Fleece knew there had to be. It had soaked every last bit of information Jason allowed it to, and then some more on top. About their whereabouts, and about their opponents. It knew very well that the piece of meat known as Tom Holder was smart. It wouldnt underestimate a regenerator such as them. As if summoned by that reflection, more bullets hit Argonauts back. Like an owl, he snapped his head around, towards the direction from which shots were fired. There they were. More mannequins. More slaughter. How delightful. Fleece felt quite unfulfilled by the lack of blood and flesh to tear into, but it wasnt boorish enough to not appreciate a little rehearsal before the carnage that shall come in the foreseeable future. Hyping itself up even more, the regenerator leaned back and roared towards the sky. Was it Fleece? Or Jason? Even they didnt know for sure where the one ended and the other began. Not during combat. Not with so many stimuli. The monster bulged its thigh-muscles and unleashed all the pent-up strength by sending itself like a rock from a trebuchet towards another batch of opponents. They never stood a chance. See-through conductive fluid rained down upon Prusk that stood in the empty plaza below. With it came torn and bent pieces of steel, alongside many different weapon parts. What she saw was scientific genius beyond human understanding made manifest. She should have felt honored, being the first homo-sapiens in over a decade to see a regenerator in action. The pinnacle of its species. The masterwork of a mad genius and yet all she felt was Excitement. - Holy fucking shit. - the mechanical receptacle sent her voice over. - You sure know how to pop-off, Argonaut. How she wished to spar with that beast while piloting Pollux, her combat mech. Just a vague estimate of destruction they could both unleash sent a tingle down her spine. Now her mind was dead-set on befriending that bioweapon. There could be no better sparring partner to hone her pilot skills than him. - I just need to convince that old man to allow Argonaut some R&R with me. Hope he wont be too obtuse. - Prusk frowned. - He does sound like a dick when talking about the big guy. - Im not deaf, you know? The mannequin twitched slightly in response to the familiar voice. It was Dirk, in the flesh, walking out of the school with a large suitcase. - I wont even ask how you can speak through that mannequin. - despite talking to her, the old dog kept looking towards the rooftop, from which mechanical blood and artificial body-parts fell in abundance. - Admiring Argonauts work? - Yeah, he sure is something. You trained him? - Nope. Its all natural instinct. Well, as natural as they made it. - Hot damn. - You can say that again. - Chernobog chuckled. - But it would still be an understatement. - Why does mercenary recruitment always turn into a contest of how many regulations you guys can break in the least amount of time? - the voice of Tom Holder broke up their conversation, this time surprising both Dirk and Prusk, as it came from the hijacked mannequin. - Im talking about you too, Miss Prusk. - Mission accomplished. - Dirk stared into the ether, raising the suitcase into the air. He didnt bother turning towards the source of the voice, opting to simply stand beside it. Tom had his eyes everywhere anyway. - Congratulations. Too bad you didnt fire a single shot during a firearms evaluation. Cant you people follow simple instructions? Arent you a soldier? - Toms voice sounded exhausted and muffled, as if he was talking through his hands. - The greatest skill with a weapon is knowing when to use it and when to hold back. - Chernobog explained. - Philosophy wont win you any points with the management. - I hope the results will. Whats my detection status with the civilians? - It was zero - Tom sighed. - but its going up. - Huh? - Look behind you. Dirk turned around only to see a medium-sized crowd forming a safe distance away from him, holding mock-phones in their hands and presumably recording something. - Your weapon is making quite a spectacle. Not only did it break the rule of not interfering with your test twice, but now hes ruining the companys PR with that rain of gore. Those snipers were meant for you. Shit. - Dirk couldnt help but think as he raised the leash up to his mouth. - Argonaut, return! - he commanded, but to little avail. The carnage continued up top. - Your penalties are mounting, Chernobog, and the clock is ticking. Theres only so much company time I can spare for you. Dirk bit his lip and after a brief moment of deliberation, almost imperceptible to the onlookers, pulled on the leash pretty hard, instantly cutting the sounds of the massacre off. Jason roared once, then again, this time quieter, and went silent. It only took him a second from there to return, landing in front of Dirk with the great force of his bloated body hitting the ground with a thud, kicking up clouds of dust. He stuck the landing with his feet, not bothering to dampen the impact with any rolls or slides. Any damage would regenerate instantly anyway, as Fleece was obviously engaged and agitated. His body was in pristine condition, not even having a single mark on it, but the same couldnt be said about his clothes, now riddled with holes. - I had great hopes for you, Chernobog, but things are not looking up for you at the moment. Lets hope you turn it around in the next trial. - he announced solemnly. - Penalties will be applied to you too, Miss Prusk. The company does not appreciate outsiders fiddling with its equipment. - Crap. - she cussed back, and the mannequin went limp. Dirk grit his teeth, but kept his poker face on. Tom was right. Gone were the days of Ares, the god of war, when he could do the things the way he saw fit, improvising every other second, changing plans on the run to suit the situation, even if it meant angering the people above him. He got too used to his status back then, to being above reprimand because of his accomplishments. He was now nothing more than a rank-and-file, and he had to start acting this way if he wanted this job. At this rate, his hubris was once again going to be his undoing. Chapter 13 - Punitive Lap - Well, perhaps theres a silver lining to your showing off. - Toms voice once again sounded out in Dirks earpiece. - The extra ammo will come in handy in the next part. - Awaiting further directions. - Make sure to stick to them this time, yeah? - Tom quipped back sarcastically. - Yes, sir. - Dirk answered in a proper soldierly fashion, not letting any emotion slip through. - Firstly, look up. What do you see? He did as he was told and saw a plume of red smoke rise over the city skyline somewhere off in the distance. - This is your rendezvous point. Your next objective is to reach it with the retrieved cargo intact, while either avoiding or neutralizing enemy partisan cells on your way there. Youll have half an hour. Going beyond this limit will count as automatic failure and grounds for immediate dismissal of your application. Thirty minutes - Dirk thought deeply about that number. Its hard to tell from this angle, but itll probably be a crunch to get there on foot within that limit. - For the purposes of this trial the AO is considered an active warzone, so civilian casualties and damage to the infrastructure are considered acceptable, within reason of course. - Tom explained carefully in a professional tone, but spoke in a hushed voice next, his communicator crackling a bit as if struck by interference. - There are hidden objectives spread along the way. Look out for them. - his voice then returned to normal as if nothing happened. - The enemy will have the numbers on you, so use your ammo sparingly. Not that I suspect you will have a problem with that. Oh, and you can use whatever weapon you have on hand. - he mocked in a rather friendly manner. Dirk looked towards Jason, now still as a rock. He was probably embarrassed about his outburst, but didnt show it one way or the other. He seemed ready, though, already warmed up for the next part by the little scuffle on the rooftop, his muscles brimming with latent energy. - Just so were clear, the trial starts here and now. No cheating. - Roger that, Chernobog on the move. - Dirk confirmed and with a nod to Jason equipped his Ouroboros pistol, getting a firm grip on the suitcase in his other hand. - So I guess thats where we split. - the mannequin whispered, Prusk apparently still listening in to the conversation. - Good luck old man, keeping my fingers crossed. Old-dog smiled, but every little muscle in his face screamed how fake the notion was. She wouldnt be able to see it, thankfully, but he was indeed hurting deep inside. He felt a pang in his Ego - The one organ in his body that only grew stronger with age. He really thought of himself as different, as someone who not so long ago gave up all hope, self-esteem and desire for change. Then those close to him pulled him back up from beneath the muck. Might have pulled him a bit too high up, elevating the old Ares more than he deserved. So even if it hurt like a motherfucker, what Tom did was earned. Or at least thats what people in his situation should think, alongside reflecting on their actions. Dirk frowned, Ego swelling. He wasnt a nobody schmuck that should follow orders like a blind calf. He led this countrys best swords once upon a time for crying out loud! You may be a nice fellow, Tom, helping me on the side. - Dirk thought, leaving the premises of the high school in a hurried sprint. - Still, Have fun, my ass. Quite corporate of you to have your own bingo card under the table, grading how I use my freedom of choice. Ill play your game regardless. Unknowingly to himself and Junior Executive alike, limitations awoke something that lay dormant within the retired war god. Ill ace it to boot. - a competitive streak pulled at his heart, one that he hadnt felt since boot camp, which made him smile. - Hope your feed leads back to your superiors. Jason was the only one who saw that and that image, once more, made his morale skyrocket beyond the artificial dome under which Ouroboros facility resided. Ever since their exodus started, the man that saved him all those years ago was slowly emerging from a damp cocoon. His self-confidence, the vigor in each step, the dexterity with which weapons performed in the old soldiers hand. All of it made Jason the happiest he had ever been. More than any relationship, apartment or stable employment This! All this was the missing piece! Like a childish fantasy coming true. Him and his hero, fighting together. As the reinvigorated duo ran across the streets, with spark and purpose carrying them along, mannequins rummaging through the streets suddenly froze. Few of them resumed their march as before, but those that didnt - Tom, you crafty bastard. - veteran responded appropriately, seeing at least a dozen automatons bee-lining towards them in a mad dash. Argonaut growled, ready to scrap, but this many enemies wouldnt pose much of a threat to the old man. Dirk simply grabbed the handgun with both hands, taking point, moved it close to his face and started firing. Two shots per every mannequin, a double tap as they called it in movies. He first hit the lower joints to incapacitate the targets, then finished them off with an easy headshot. Before the magazine emptied, all the machines-turned-bloodthirsty already littered the pavement, reduced to scrap. The fight ended before it even began, and with their momentum conserved, the duo took a hard right into a nearby overpass. It was crowded with mannequins who despite the commotion continued carrying out their pre-programmed civilian mimicry routines. Probably Toms desire to see how well Chernobog would fare in places without freedom of movement, unlike the third floor of high school. - Argonaut, ice-breaker! - Dirk announced while pressing a button on the magnetic leash. Responding to the enigmatic request, the regenerator growled, taking charge. Now with their positions swapped, the hulking man in front curled his arms close, leaned forward, and proceeded to ram all the mannequins in his way. Like bowling pins, they fell to the sides, some over the railing and down into the busy road below. Cars zooming by would take care of those. Most, however, were trampled by Argonaut, who cut through their ranks like a knife through butter. Thanks to Jasons unstoppable charge, they were out and on their way in less than two minutes, but their record tempo afforded them a mere glance at their new surroundings before another onslaught began. It seemed like their examiner didnt have any problems with matching the pair''s reckless tempo. Something flashed in the distance. In one explosive motion, Argonaut stomped his foot into the ground, stopping himself in place, then immediately dashed back to Dirk, covering his silhouette with his own body, intercepting a hail of bullets right into his own back Four shooters, three oclock. - Chernobog ensured himself of what he managed to absorb in the split-second before the barrage. - Automatic weaponry, subpar accuracy and penetration at this range. The identified quartet occupied a nearby rooftop, spraying and praying in Dirks general direction. By sound alone, the old veteran quickly realized, however, that this group differed from all the others thus far. While his previous opponents acted rather unorganized, merely trying to overwhelm him with firepower, those four displayed an unexpected amount of coordination. They fired interchangeably and never all at once, turning what could have been just a simple suppressive fire into a gapless, endless stream of lead by covering each other''s reloads. Either their directives got updated, or somebody was meticulously pulling their strings now. Most other candidates would have probably fallen victim to this ambush, with no good cover in sight, but for Chernobog and Argonaut as his bulwark, it was almost hand-crafted to be passed. Throwing another freebie my way? Tom, youre way too nice for your line of work. - the soldier sneered, grabbing the DMR and planting it under Jason''s armpit. Using the regenerator''s forearm as a bipod and the reft of the limb as an impregnable meat-shield, he peered over his bulging shoulder. Bullets whizzed by, but Jason proved an impregnable wall. Without him, Dirk couldnt have aimed as long as he did. If one could even call it aiming. Due to his rifle being much lower than usual, he had to almost fire a weapon built for precision from the hip, with the only aiming apparatus to aid him being his trained eyes. Moments like those made him feel a bit old, missing how much better his vision used to be just a couple of years ago. Nevertheless, the retiree emptied his lungs, stabilized the rifle and pulled the trigger. Not once. But six times in quick succession, as if firing an old-timey revolver. The first two, one after another, missed, but landed close enough for Dirk to adjust his aim little by little. Once he really got a feel for the trajectory of the bullets, calibrating it was pretty easy. The shootout at high noon was over, and Dirk was the victor.. - A few years ago four shots would have been enough. - Dirk grouched a bit. - Aging sure isC Complaining earned him a kick to the ankle from Jason. As his muscles spasmed involuntarily from the impact, he sucked some air through his teeth, barely stopping himself from snapping at Jason as he usually did, but bit his tongue. There were too many eyes watching them, he could feel. Hed give the boy an earful later, but for now hed have to stick to the script . Ill get back on ya for this, just you wait. - He promised in his mind, while regaining their previous tempo. - Good pace, weapons and gentlemen. - the long-time-not-heard voice of the one behind the trial reached Chernobogs earpiece. - Magnificent job on noticing and taking care of a single side-objective. Your wit allowed you to obtain bonus points during the final evaluation. - he announced with all too much flair. Dirk let the mockery slide, remembering what is exactly expected of him. - Roger that. - the soldier said, as the soldier should. - I am here to inform you that you are making very good progress, 31% of the path towards the objective has been left in the dust. Think you can keep it up? - Sir, yes, sir. - the veteran responded, downing another automaton with a quick handgun flick. - Splendid. The board of directors is watching your progress quite attentively, as you are the only one currently left in the city. That offhand comment made Dirks blood run cold. There is no one else left in this house of cards? Not a single soul taking tests? Nobody to keep the robots occupied? - his mind went into overdrive. - Looking at your heart rate monitor, you caught on quickly. - Toms grin was audible. But Chernobog kept on running with Argonaut in tow, not sparing a single glance behind him. After all, there was no need to. Dirks worries born of the Junior Executives words made themselves manifest right in front of him. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.The sea of mannequins, previously benign, now stood frozen in time, their bodies stiff as stone. The only moving heads were their heads, as they followed the two men with their cold gazes.Every single move, they watched. - The previous mishandling of your test has been rectified. - the white-collar worker continued. - You are indeed an excellent shot when you put your mind to it. Ouroboros medical company applauds your impeccable skills All the mannequins assumed default poses and turned towards the pair. - Now show us their full extent. The last thing Dirk could hear, before all hell broke loose, was the blip of his connection to Tom cutting off. - Argonaut, paragon! That command carried little substance, but it gave Jason an excuse to act in a more complex way than a simple, mindless bodyguard. With the reins released, Dirk acted first. He spun around quickly, but with great precision, hitting the nearest mannequin with the edge of the case, its universally most durable part, to cause the most damage. As he ended in a full crouch, this seemingly pointless flourish was accompanied by four shots, each downing a single target. What was once a battle of wits and positioning had now devolved into a full-blown close-quarter brawl. But this scenario hardly intimidated the duo. Dirks precision and his weapons penetrating power grew exponentially with each step the mannequins took his way, and any enemy that entered Jasons immediate striking range would soon feel the destructive power of his strikes. A deafening roar filled the fake city streets as the giant slaughtered everything in a large radius around him, unafraid of striking his master, who ducked below the cyclone of doom that were now his arms. Every single spot across the regenerators bulked-up arms wrought destruction upon the endless tide of machines - his claws tore gashes in their metal chassis, his open palms mauled like mallets, his fore-arms batted them across the street like simple baseballs. With pure force and momentum, the two men cleared their clinching range, giving themselves a few seconds to move up a priceless meter or two. But the thoughtless machines kept pouring out like water from a faucet. As Argonaut swung with wild abandon, Chernobog flexed his leg muscles and kept following him, crouched low, yet somehow keeping up. Whenever a stray robot snuck through the big fellows defenses, it was Dirk who was his lifeline, dispatching hostiles with precise shooting. Soon they managed to grasp a good rhythm. Swing after swing, shot after shot, they started to pick up the tempo. Mannequins crashed into nearby buildings and empty mags clacked on the pavement, like instruments of war playing a symphony of carnage. If Dirk wasnt as focused as he was, maybe he would have caught the few moments when his earpiece crackled to life, Tom Holder on the line, present, but silent, struggling to find the right words to describe the absolute devastation he saw through the cameras. The only sound he could make was his barely stifled laughter of disbelief. He didnt feel that excited over anything in years. Tom would never admit it, but if any of his superiors were to start a betting pool over this hecatomb taking place in their facility, Tom would go all-in on Chernobog and his human weapon right then and there. But with soaring highs came crushing lows, the junior executive realized as he gazed over to another monitor. In one of the back alleys, a side objective just popped up. It shouldnt have been surprising, as the man set them up himself, and yet it crept up on him like the evening sky after hours of playing. A group of slightly larger mannequins with a faint, pale glow waited off in the distance, just barely differing from the crowd, busy with acting out their roles as high-value targets. They stood out, but just barely, and thats what worried Tom as he bit his lip. He had to be just subtle enough when setting them up to not tip off his superiors, and that subtlety was just about to bite Chernobog in the ass. After all, there was no way that the soldier would be able to see the objective in his zen-like state of death-dealing fury. Tom crammed in as many bonus points as he could into the trial, but they just barely made up for Chernobogs penalties from the previous trial. Missing just one would mean failure for the mercenary And a missed recruitment quota for Holder. Shit, I am sorry, guys. - the Junior Human Resources Acquisition manager thought with disappointment. So much potential was about to be wasted, not to mention the pay cut that was about to hit him. But just as the Ouroboros employee had fallen into the pit of despair, he was yanked right out of it by the sight of the target losing half of its body in a flash. - W-what? - he couldnt believe his eyes. With incredible urgency, Tom zoomed in back to the duo, and saw the giant human weapon, whose body was glowing gold like a Christmas tree, holding a large stop sign by its very end, its head bent and covered in mechanical lubricant from his latest high-value victims. But Argonauts supposed to be a dumb weapon! How did it- The realization came to him suddenly, like a flick to the nose. Instinct. Pure combat instinct. It was the same thing that turned Chernobog into a spinning whirlwind of bullets. As the giant swung its improvised battleaxe, automatons fell in droves, making the Ouroboros repair bill skyrocket to new heights. Still, at this point it didnt even matter. The display of sheer battle prowess before Holder was something priceless. Truly unbelievable. It was yet another golden egg that City-24 had laid for Ouroboros during this turn of recruitment. A walking proof that the campaign was well worth the money, even if Ouroboros had to spin lies upon lies about the virus and their fake vaccines to get the ball rolling in the Imperial lands. Every other side objective that appeared was quickly obliterated by Cheronobogs impeccable sniping skills and Argonauts unmatched strength. Finding refuge under the umbrella of his bioweapons ax swings, the old soldier could aim in peace and fire at every odd-looking automaton that appeared tens, even hundreds of steps away. Or at least he did, until something finally stuttered in their well-oiled war machine. The weakest link broke at last. The stop sign. Swung around with so much force, crashing and cleaving targets much tougher than it should be able to, it snapped, sending its mangled head into the air. In that brief moment when Argonauts range got cut in half, the automatons flooded in, trying to repay the trespassers upon their manufactured kingdom for their cruelty. A tide of metal crashed into them, reaching out for the crouched Chernobog with cold, uncaring hands. Things were looking grim. A myriad of claws descended upon him like the talons of a hunting hawk, but he did not remain idle, dodging away by going even lower. In the nick of time, he did a split in the middle of the street, throwing his DMR to the floor with one hand, and tossing something else from within his coat into the air with the other. It was a pistol. An old looking handgun. With blinding speed, the soldier-for-hire caught it midair, spun it and mag-dumped the small crowd that formed around them. Before their scrapped chassis could even fall to the floor, Argonaut adjusted. Now instead of an ax, the metal pole left over from the sign served the mountain of muscles as a wicked bat. Where hed lost in range, he compensated in the speed of his swings, each strike a blurry mess of scrap and oil. That crazy gun-work I think Ive seen it before - Tom contemplated the aerie similarities. - I think it was that Russian. As the parade of destruction continued, the Junior manager noticed that it was almost coming to its end. Their way of marching forth was so surreal that time passed for him faster than when watching any other applicant. The man and his bioweapon were perfectly in sync, covering each others weaknesses as if theyd been born to do it. Chernobog wouldnt be able to break through without Argonauts strength, while Argonaut would be bogged down without Chernobogs support. A perfect symbiosis to fight against the ticking clock. An army of two. It has been so many minutes since Dirk started this whole wordless combat of theirs. They had to focus, both of them, if they wanted to make it in time with all the possible odds stacked against them. The Ouroboros-issued handgun ran out of ammo long ago and with Jasons impromptu weapon being broken, Dirk no longer had the cover necessary to use the DMR in close quarters. All that was left was the Makarov he won off Misha. But that little fella also had just a mag to spare. It wasnt looking pretty. Not to mention the worst part. Dirks ragged breath. The exercise provided by Diesel and the solo-operation in the school were comparable to a walk in the park, when juxtaposed against this marathon of slaughter. Im gonna be so fucking sore after this. - the old dog thought, while intercepting another swing from the automaton and breaking its neck with centrifugal force. - Not to mention the cramps. He might have complained deep inside, but he didnt even try to hide the wide smile on his face. Since it was just Holder watching, Dirk could let his feelings show a bit. No one would judge him for such childish behavior. Even as sweat almost fell into his eyes and dampened his clothing, they were making progress in the most dire of circumstances, and that reminded him of the days of old. But this march down the memory lane was just about to reach its crescendo as their objective appeared in sight. The duo rounded a corner, and at last bore witness to the source of the red plume of smoke - a singular, large flare stuck into the empty plateau. Or rather, it would be empty if not for the two imposing statues of the snakes eating their own tails, and the larger than usual automaton, almost rivaling Jason in bulk, with a large ballistic shield, standing between them and the flare. It seemed to be defending their extraction point, barring their entry. Dirk could simply order Argonaut to hold the machine down, while he delivered the briefcase and put an end to this whole charade But that wouldnt be very in the spirit of the old days. Even if he were to get in line and behave like the bottom-feeding grunt he presented as around half an hour ago, there were some values he always adhered to, even in his boot-camp days. Firstly - hed get the job done, no matter the personal cost. They left the other automatons slightly behind, so Dirk could easily grasp the DMR in both hands, throwing the briefcase to Jason, who intercepted it without issues. Secondly - hed achieve the objectives as cleanly as possible. Out of respect for those working to clean up his mess. The automaton revved up, ready to tumble. It took a might step forward and- Chernobog fired away from the machine, seemingly into the ether. A salvo flew through the air, then hit something behind the machine, then did so again and again with a metallic dink. After the third series and another dink, something struck the large machine straight in the side of its head. The ballistic shield slammed into the pavement with quite a ruckus, and the body soon followed. Dirk wasnt too sure at first about this whole maneuver. He didnt play around with ricocheting bullets as much as Jess did, after all, but it seemed that her teachings from way back when stuck with him through the years. - That was clean. - Jason whispered, breaking character. - Thanks, I didnt think it would work. - former soldier responded in the same volume. - God of war at his finest. - Oh, fuck off. - Dirk scoffed, just as the pillar of smoke from the flare started to fluctuate. - Back on Broadway yet again. The younger man chuckled softly, before returning to his assigned role within their play. Something moved within the red smoke, and what emerged was none other than the man of the hour, the engineer of their toil - On the behalf of Ouroboros medical company, I, Human Resources Acquisition manager Tom Holden, salute your skill and perseverance! With those words, both men started approaching each other in a metered step. - What happened to the Junior in front? - Chernobog asked, dropping the neat soldier''s act as all the clamor caused by automatons ceased with Toms appearance. - Lets just say that my impeccable social skills were recognized and rewarded adequately. I also fed the right footage to the right people. He extended his hand. Without looking at it, the mercenary deposited a briefcase handle into it. They both smiled at each other. - Congratulations on your promotion. - the soldier said, while shaking the bureaucrats other hand. - Thank you. Congratulations on your employment. - Holder responded. - Would you consider grabbing a beer on the off-hours? - No, thanks. Im a recovering alcoholic. Both men laughed, finally being able to speak honestly and aloud. Chapter 14 - Fruits - So this is it. The crop of our little search. - a small figure said in a raspy voice, as it sat in front of an illuminated monitor, surrounded by pitch black darkness. The display cycled through stills of a total metal mayhem from numerous different perspectives. Each shot, swing and explosion, captured and cataloged. Tens of hundreds of hours of footage in total when taking into account just how big the recruitment pool was. Piles of scrap littered the artificial streets of the Ouroboros training facility #4 in each one. Some were shot, some burned, others utterly obliterated into tiny bits. Dozens of automatons destroyed per mere seconds as if they were mere junk. It was not the case. Those machines were not only highly sophisticated tech meant to mimic real soldiers, but Ouroboros also didnt skim on their production costs. - The cream of the crop. - another voice joined in from the shadow, standing just at the edge of the monitors cool light. - Its astounding just how much hidden talent there is in the Empire. True untapped potential. - Dont get excited. They arent untapped. - the first voice corrected. -Unchecked fits the bill much better. Unsupervised. - Well, now they will be. Its part of the contract. - For how long, I wonder. - Long enough for us to achieve our goals. - There was certainty in those words. - So hows the cargo? - In position and awaiting transport. - Good. And the selection? - Already made. Our new temporary employees will be made aware of their assigned positions shortly. The other figure approached the display and leaned forwards to get a better look at the various depictions of pure carnage. With a swipe of his hand, the footage played out in short bits before he skipped to a different perspective and repeated the process. One mercenary especially caught his eye. - Still admiring Chernobog? - the raspy voice mocked. - Admiring huh? If only I could spare a moment for that. No. He worries me. - Thats not something you get to hear often coming from your mouth. - Ive got people who worry about trivial things for me. - he snapped back. - This, though. This is different. Was he on the preliminary selection sheet? - You made it yourself. Wouldnt you know? - No. No, he wasnt. I just wanted to make sure that Im not going crazy. - Some amount of information leakage was within our calculation when we distributed the recruitment notice. We welcome it, even. Canon fodder has its uses too. - But this is not fodder. No. This is something unexpected, yet familiar. - he fell silent for a moment, lost deep in thought. - He was certainly a surprise, considering how he looks like a hobo. Then again, weve seen plenty of other colorful characters this time around. - So whats his assignment? Did the other board members decide on that yet? - Its a mess. - As usual. - he huffed. - Id want him guarding the cargo with the main force. Can never have too much security there. Probably somewhere high in the chain of command. He seemed dependable enough. Certainly more stable than some of our new acquisitions. - Thats a mistake. - he shook his head lightly, face still pointing towards the monitor. - We need a better read on him. People like that dont just walk in from the street. They get poached before their feet even touch the pavement. - A mole? - Perhaps - he drummed his finger on a wooden desk. - Not to mention just how unruly he was. - Seemed to have followed the orders closely enough in the second part. Cant expect too much from hired guns. He was cocky, sure, but could back it all up. - The first trial or the second an unruly buck or a trained workhorse - he paused. - I need to know which one is the real him before I can allow him to approach the cargo - So whats your verdict? - The scouting unit. Well see how well he can work in a small group and move on from there. - As the leader? - Youre a funny gal. - a small chuckle escaped his mouth, for the first time breaking the veil of seriousness that surrounded him. - Lets see how well he can drive. - You are a petty man. - the little smile was almost audible. - I dont like cockiness. I much prefer obedient pawns. - Very well. And for the leader? - They can figure out whos boss on their own. They would do that anyway, with my input or without. - AndC - Thats enough. - he cut in. - Theres only so much responsibility you can push onto me. We are a board of directors for a reason. Ask the others. Ive voiced my opinions. Now, if youll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. This whole move is a bureaucratic nightmare, and those Empire bastards are doing everything to make my life as hard as possible. - Alright. Good luck with that. With the sound of heels clicking against the floor, the man left the dark room, stepping into the blinding light of the outside and closing the door behind him. Somewhere else, far away from the pristine room filled with observation apparatus, Dirk sneezed. - Dont tell me you caught a cold after all those heroics. - Jason whispered to the aged man, not slowing down. - No, must have been some dust. - the other responded, wiping his nose with a jacket sleeve. - Thats kinda nasty. - I told you, Im not ill, so there is nothing to call nasty, just wiping my nose on reflex. Regenerator didnt seem convinced, but the doors to the waiting room were just a few steps away, so it was once again time to resume the play. Chernobog swung the heavy doors wide open, getting the attention of everyone gathered in the hall before him. All the faces he saw when entering the testing chamber were accounted for, a few worse for wear. Except for Prusk, she didnt seem to have gotten even a speck of dust on her overalls. But outside the group he already knew there were also others. Many others. Some he recognized. - D-Chernobog! - a thick Russian accent roared from the crowd, garnering a lot of unwanted attention. - Took ya quite a bit, durak! - For fucks sake The military veteran lamented, knowing well what was coming. Throwing any semblance of caution or low-profile behavior to the wind, Misha proudly marched towards the recently arrived duo, joining them at the very center of everyones attention. Some eyes followed, some turned away, focusing on equipment maintenance or treating their wounds. Despite that, even those scarce few that focused on the interaction between the two friends rubbed Dirk the wrong way. - For such a badass, you sure took your sweet-ass time. - the Ruskie wound up his arm. - Unless it was all planned, so that you might get a dramatic arrival as the last merc. - Very funny. - Chernobog responded, mimicking the speaker''s arm movement. Being on the same wave, their limbs swung through the air, colliding in a manly handshake. That very extra interaction effectively caused all the remaining onlookers to turn away, not keen on observing some juvenile frat-rituals. All except two, who instead proceeded to approach them. - You actually made it, old timer! Even though you screwed the pooch there in that school. - Prusk spoke out loud with a wide grin. Another woman tailed her, staying a few steps behind. - Yeah. All thanks to your crossed fingers. - Dirk smirked, before putting his hand on Mishas shoulder. - This is my old pal, Misha. Misha, this foul-mouth gal is Prusk, a fellow merc. - Blyat! Now thats a surprise. - Morozov extended his hand in a friendly manner towards the woman. - I thought most women would steer clear of Chernobog. - Whys that? - she shook his hand with strength befitting her stature. - The old man smell and that homeless look. - the Ruskie grinned from ear to ear. Without thinking twice, the mech pilot started laughing, with Red Mill following suit. Chernobog only exhaled, fearing this exact scenario from the moment the female mercenary opened up to him. Thanks to Morozov he knew a thing or two about bothersome people, and now he had two to deal with at once, not to mention that their kind only grew more powerful with numbers. Exponentially. - I like you, baldy. - the girlie used her free hand to wipe a tear forming in the corner of her left eye. - Misha, was it? Hope we end up in the same squad. - Spasiba, but I think my good pal would get kinda lonely without me by his side. - the Russian gunslinger let go of the handshake first. - After all, his walking meat-shield isnt much for conversations. For shame, truly. - Prusk, how about youd introduce us to your friend? - Chernobog interjected, remembering the odd fondness she held towards Argonaut. Letting this conversation go in that direction would only end up in an argument. Not wanting to indulge such a fruitless exchange with a person who is not in on their little charade, Dirk decided to steer their little train-cart on a safer track. To that, the boisterous womans eyes shot wide open, as if she just had an epiphany. - Right. My bad. - the leather-jacket wearing pilot walked up to the other woman and placed a hand on her shoulder just like Dirk did on Mishas not a minute ago. - Chernobog, Misha, this is my older sister- - Felicia Rand, its a pleasure. - the woman finished the introduction herself. Despite the declaration that they were siblings, they didnt sound alike at all. While there were a few similarities between the two, if one looked hard enough, they got easily drowned out by the flood of differences that riddled their images. Where Prusk had a rich mane of hair, taken straight out of an old-timey movie, her sisters instead fell straight down to her hips. Where Prusk was a pile of muscles, her sibling looked almost eerily average by comparison. Where the former''s voice roared loudly and proudly, the latter sounded calm and subdued. - Ha! You two are like polar opposites! - Misha said aloud what Dirk thought in his mind. - Still, nice to meet ya, lady. - Chernobog, likewise. - the thinker chimed in. - And this is Argonaut, my regenerator. Without a word, Felicia inspected the towering bioweapon, scanning him with a single hazel eye that wasnt obstructed by a waterfall of hair. Her thoughts, however, remained an enigma, hidden behind an unreadable mask. There was no fear, disgust or worry, just simple silent acknowledgement. That solemn demeanor made it difficult for the former god of war to judge her character, but it did not leave him dismayed. He came to this place fully expecting this to be the rule, and not an exception. - My sis is also a pilot of a mechanized suit. - Prusk cut through the silence, pulling her older sister a bit closer. - But hers is much larger than mine, almost twice over! - Really? - Dirk was genuinely surprised to hear that, but played it off as no more than keen interest. - Thats more of a city-leveling machine than a mobile suit, you know? - Mechanized suits? - Misha chimed in, clearly out of the loop. - You two gals brought tanks on fucking legs for this job? - You betcha! - the loud one answered for them both. - Come now, Barbara, its just a weapon. Hardly a reason to get so worked up. - lady Rand chided her sister, showing some much-needed humility between the two. Dirk smiled politely, somehow feeling soothed by having a reasonable person around to counteract the chaotic aura of their other companions. Though Dirk tuned out for most of the remaining small-talk, the conversation, mostly between Prusk and Morozov, continued for a short while longer as they hit it off pretty well. But as the newly assembled quartet of mercenaries slowly got to know each other, unbeknownst to them, someone was slowly approaching the level 3 security doors leading to the gathering hall. They marched with steady steps, keeping a fat, sealed envelope tightly under one arm, making extra sure not to lose it anywhere. After all, the contents of the envelope held the fates of all the new hires. With a short alert, the reinforced door cracked open, making all the mercenaries perk up in unison, ready to welcome the Ouroboros official with piercing stares of anticipation. Their herald was a middle-aged man in a neat brown suit and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. Male-pattern baldness was creeping up on him, showing big round spots of glistening skin at the top of his skull, but despite this, he bore a serious, if a little stressed expression. His overall build was scrawny and movements stiff. - Who are you, little man? - one of the more meat-headed mercs asked from the crowd with clear pretense, probably having guessed the answer himself already. - Roger Wicket, Junior Human Resources Acquisition manager. Starting from now, I will be supervising your assignment and assimilation process into the companys structure. No void can be left unfilled, huh? - Dirk thought to himself as he scanned the man, thinking back on Holders promotion. Ouroboros was quite fast to move its parts around. Promotions, demotions, moves, mergers, takeovers. Corporate world was like a battlefield all on its own with a million parts moving around. The god of war scoffed. He already much preferred the slower pace of the military structure, but alas, he had to hope that the company would spare him from their little rat race. He was here as a merc, after all, set on doing the one job he was good at. - What happened to Holder? - another voice erupted from the crowd. - Thats not for you to know, temporary employee Fergusson. - he referred to the man by surname without as much as looking his way, which seemed to have taken the man in question aback. - Your attention should be focused on the contents of this envelope. - he lifted the fat folder into the air. - It holds the results of your recruitment process. It should be of interest to those of you who have not been made aware of them yet - he glanced at Dirk knowingly, but in a way that didnt draw much attention. - along with your designated positions within the Moses convoy. - And what of those who didnt pass? - somebody asked. - They will be asked to go through the scrubbing process. - Scrubbing? - Another one chimed in, concern apparent in their voice. - A simple memory removal procedure. Ouroboros medical company is determined to protect its assets at all costs. - Is it safe? - It has a 99.9% success rate. - the man answered each question with mechanical tone and precision, unbothered by the tension rising among the small army of hired killers. - And what if I dont agree with your brainwashing? - Anybody who refuses to act in accordance with the company code of conduct, including the severance procedures, will be subject to immediate termination without compensation to their affiliates. - Enough with the dystopian corpo-speak, baldy. We get it, you are threatening us. Just give us the deets and fuck those who didnt get in. The man scanned the room with his indifferent eyes and sighed. - As you wish. Security. - he called out, mobilizing the armed Ouroboros personnel. - On standby. - One of them answered through a voice modulator as 30 or so soldiers poured out of the woodwork and surrounded the mercs. - Now, lets do this in a civilized manner. - he cleared his throat and broke the crimson seal on the folder. - You will be divided among 5 specialized units. The Scouts, the Vanguard, the Guardians, the Main Force and the Rear Guard, coded groups 1 through 5 respectively. I will now call out your names along with a number. I ask you then to move through appropriate numbered gates in an ordered fashion. You will receive further instructions after your unit assembles. Those whose names are not called out are asked to follow the security force for scrubbing. Ouroboros medical company thanks you for your cooperation. And so for the next half hour the scrawny office worker sent away each merc like a dealer tossing cards in a game of poker. Some moved quickly without much hassle, others had some issues with their designated units, but ultimately any resistance was futile when met with 30 gun barrels pointed at ones head. The gaggle of hired guns quickly dwindled, but so did the number of pages in the folder, and it quickly became clear that a great number of applicants did not meet company standards during their practical examination. Dirk did not show even a shred of concern, though. He knew that he did great. Perhaps even the best among those gathered. So he simply waited with his arms crossed, face stone-cold, but paradoxically, completely at ease. The same confidence did not apply to his new female acquaintance, Barbara, who nervously shifted her weight from one leg to the other, trying her best to keep a poker face. - Red Mill, 3. - Harasho. - the Russian nodded his head with a faint smile on his face, though there was no relief in his voice, since he didnt seem all that worried to begin with. It was the kind of discreet confidence only a lifelong gambler could exude. He tapped Chernobog on the shoulder, then did the same for Barbara. - See you guys soon. - he reassured, then lightly hit Jason in the stomach as he passed him, knowing full well that the regenerator couldnt react. - Dick. - Dirk murmured, cracking a smile as he felt some of Jasons killing intent bleed through the mask. He wanted to ask Jason to pipe down a bit, after all, they were surrounded by armed folk. It would only take one itchy trigger finger to turn this already tense afternoon into quite a mess. Thankfully, the worst never came to pass. The next announcement provided an apt distraction for the regenerators simmering emotions. - Felicia, 3. A wave of murmurs disrupted the crowd. After all, most professional mercenaries chose to go by a callsign or an alias, hardly ever opting to reveal their names to a wider audience. It was either a sign of utter stupidity, or unbridled confidence, and Dirk already had his guess which one it was between the two. That woman might be a tough nut to crack - the soldier thought, keeping a close eye on the two sisters hugging each other goodbye. - I just hope that Morozov wont do anything stupid. - Mr. Chernobog, its been a pleasure. - the elder sister spoke with a forced smile. - I hope youll help me keep Misha out of trouble. - Dirk smiled back. - Your expertise in watching over kids should come in handy. The kid in question frowned. - Ill think about it. - Felicias solemn expression showed that the joke did not land properly, but she did not dwell on it, moving on to her debriefing as ordered. With another familiar face gone, it was only Dirk, his weapon and the seemingly upset hacker that somehow didnt immediately get fired after the stunt she pulled during the practical exam. - Youre calling your friend a dick while embarrassing me in front of my older sister. Low blow, grandpa, low blow. - Prusk voiced her displeasure, while giving her listener a side eye. - My bad, it was meant to be a light-hearted ice-breaker, but it seems you two couldnt have fallen from the tree any farther apart. - Dirk exhaled. - What do you mean? - she didnt understand the metaphor. - Her being such a hardass, with that calm expression all the time. - Yeah, shes pretty cool, isnt she? The veteran looked towards the woman, quite bewildered by the way she interpreted his words. She didnt seem to care, though, lost in her own thoughts, stuck with a dreamy smile on her face which stood in a stark contrast to her usual trouble-making demeanor. - Feli is always taking life in strides, not letting anything bring her down. You should have seen her when we were younger, she used to whoop ass on the playground! Other kids treated her with reverence and respect I havent seen shown to anyone else since those days. She stayed a boss all the way through college and beyond. On campus, there was no limit to whom shed steamroll with witty retorts if they were mean to me. Students, professors, she always found a way to shut them up. Cuz despite what you might think, I wasnt as much of a unit as I am now, not to mention the degree I was pursuing at the time. She got called to the dean''s office so many times, but never got penalized. Because nothing could ever keep my big sister down. Or, or that one time- She spoke so genuinely that even Jason unknowingly broke character for a moment and looked straight at her. Deep inside, the young regenerator knew exactly how she felt. After all, he had his own badass to look up to. - Thats a very special bond you two seem to share. - Chernobog managed to regain his composure, focusing once again on Rogers list. - She is the coolest person I have ever met in my life, and I would burn the world if she asked me to. Metaphorically of course. - both of them chuckled. - Dont worry old-timer, she doesnt dislike you, nor have you wronged her in any way. Thats how my big sis simply is, both at work and in daily life. Despite how it may seem, the fact that she smiled showed her sincerity, you know? The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Prusk, you know that smile was forced, right? - Chernobog wanted to say it aloud, but shattering the grand image of Felicia Rand so meticulously presented to him by her little sister would be way too cruel. That childhood sincerity of Barbara was overwhelming, but a welcome reprieve from all those serious and hard-boiled people surrounding them. It did raise a question in his head though - how old were those two sisters? Not like he could ask. You never ask a woman about her age and weight, after all. Maybe once the Moses convoy got moving he could ask Tom about it. Bet he had all their personal files downloaded onto some PDA, or even memorized. He did seem like a guy that could do such a thing. - Garuda, 1. Another mythological reference in their expedition. No way it was a coincidence. So the soldier simply - You have my sympathies. For not managing to be in the same group as your vainglorious sister. - his guess proved right as Barbaras shoulders slumped. - Blast it all. - she cussed quietly. - Now Im just gonna be trailblazing for her, instead of with her. Just hope therell be someone to talk to in that squad. - Dont worry, I bet youre gonna hit it off with someone new in no time. - just as the old dog said that, the moment he was waiting for arrived. The newly appointed Junior Human Resources Acquisition manager found him in the crowd. Dirk knew they must have been impressed with his performance during the evaluation, so it was a given that he must have wanted to share at least one impressed look with him. Their eyes locked, and three words filled the room. - Chernobog, 1, Driver. - What? - Dirk could hardly believe his ears. - Well, well, well. Hello there, someone new. - Prusks face lit up as she mocked through her apparent excitement. - Names Barbara, lets get along. - she shot him a smirk, glancing back and forth between him and Jason. - There has to be a mistake. - he mumbled under breath, completely ignoring the woman as he shot forward towards Roger. The frail-looking man was in the middle of packing up the documents, ready to leave any second with a group of four guards, but spared a glance at the freshly appointed driver as he power-walked towards him. Taking notice, the guards put themselves between the two men, ready to neutralize anything and anybody at a moments notice. - Excuse me, sir - Dirk called out, stopping with a quick soldierly salute at a respectable-yet-somewhat-threatening distance from the cluster of Ouroboros employees. - Im listening. What is it, mister Chernobog? - Roger answered in a rather unimpressed tone. Clearly, he had other places to be. - Be quick, however. Time is money, and the company has little to spare. - Can I look over the file with my assignment? - You cannot. - he accentuated this denial by locking the folder shut in plain sight and putting it under one arm. - There has to be a mistake, IC - There is no mistake, mister Chernobog. Any and all information disclosed to you concerning your deployment has been prepared and approved by the board of directors. - he explained in a manner only an overworked office-worker with decades of experience could. - They make no mistakes. - ButC - Any complaints regarding deployment can be directed to the Moses convoys direct HR supervisor after the initial unit debriefing. I ask you in the name of the company to either follow the company procedures or immediately proceed towards the scrubbing chambers before more drastic measures are employed. - he shut him down without mercy, taking his leave with unwavering confidence. - The Ouroboros company thanks you for your cooperation. Fuck. - Dirk mouthed the word in silence, feeling his fist ball up all on its own. Is this a joke? Did I not ace this damn test? And for what? Being in reconnaissance is one thing, but as a driver of all things? Ridiculous! - his hurt ego flooded his mind with doubt and frustration. It was a waste of his skill. His potential! His He paused this train of thought and took a deep breath to calm his mind. Nothing good would come from letting his hubris do the thinking for him, and yet he couldnt ignore it. The debriefing. - he thought. He needed to go to the debriefing to even have a chance at clearing up this mess. With a meaningful look towards Jason he darted towards the numbered gate with the young lad close behind, dashing straight past Barbara without even as much as acknowledging the fact that shed been waiting for him, too blinded by his swelling rage. He also ignored the scuffles between the few rowdy rejects and the groups of guards trying to pacify them. Any other day he would have taken his time to assess the competence of both his ex-competition and the Ouroboros guards, but now his focus was singular, guided by his outrage. He navigated the corridors swiftly, led along by the same glowing arrows on the floor as the ones hed seen before his first test, and soon enough found himself in another chamber filled with people. This one, though, was visibly smaller, and the group counted no more than a dozen people, not counting him, Jason and the freshly arrived Barbara. The room was rather dark, lit up by sparsely placed ceiling lamps whose light fell down in almost perfect columns, similar to that of spotlights in a theater. Old dust kicked up by the mercs was floating through the air, illuminated by the lamps. Clearly, this room was scarcely ever used. Under one of the lamps, Dirk spotted just what he was looking for. Or rather, who he was looking for. - Alright, thats a full house. - Tom Holder clasped his hands together and the doors closed behind Dirk and Barbara right on his tail. - Have a seat and lets get you up to speed. With those words, the floor cracked open and two rows of metal seats emerged from within, along with a white canvas up front right beside the Human Resources Acquisition manager. As the mercs scrambled to take their seats, the lights dimmed before Dirk could even get a word in. With a grumble, he sat down. Jason stood tall right behind him without as much as a peep escaping his mask. The canvas suddenly lit up as colorful lights washed over it. It seemed like they were in for an old-school corporate presentation. - Now that were all gathered, let us begin. - said newly promoted corporate worker, starting his calm walkabout around the stage. The canvas flickered, and on top of them appeared bright-blue words and lines. - First things first, as most of you might have already heard from Mr. Wicket, the convoy codename Moses will be divided into five distinct combat groups, their call signs were provided to you already, but as a refresher - as he said so, five names appeared on the whiteboard. - Now I will proceed to give you a quick rundown of what their assigned duties will encompass. After the presentation concludes, each of you gathered here will be provided with a file containing critical information, but listen well, and I might just throw in some extras for you. He raised one of his hands and began the enumeration. - Scout team, their job is to simply trailblaze and detect incoming threats on the road ahead. They are the first line of defense and our eyes and ears in more hostile environments. - Dirk could have sworn that Tom shot him a glance with a wide, mocking smile. - If they were to ever engage a threat beyond their capabilities, the whole Moses'''' convoy is encouraged to reroute and leave them behind to stall the opposition. Youve gotta be fucking kidding me. - the old vet couldnt help but cuss in his mind. - So Ive been posted with the expendables? Most people would try to raise a ruckus over learning that their lives hold less value than their peers. Maybe even quit or try to negotiate some type of deal with the powers that be. Still, Dirk remained worryingly calm, at least on the surface. He wasnt exactly normal. The news were grim, but somehow they caught his attention. To him, this wasnt a sentence, it was a challenge. Was Dirk being played with? Did Holder orchestrate Dirks assignment, knowing full well that he wouldnt back out? Not like it mattered. Dirk intended to show those Ouroboros higher-ups what a miracle worker he truly was. Thats what they would get for wounding the lions pride. - Second team, Vanguards, are the next line of defense and the only team allowed to assist Scouts if their situation were to be salvageable. - Human Resources Acquisition manager continued. - Bearing heavier ordinance and larger number of personnel, if the Scout team resides within a five-kilometer radius away from them, they are free to choose their own RoE and proceed with aid. As Tom continued talking, the whiteboard became cluttered with information. A mockup of the intended distance between all the teams, the average number of personnel assigned to each one, the placement of Ouroboros trucks and so on. It was all there. Contrary to what Holder said at the beginning, he didnt really share much useful info himself, instead letting the projector do most of the work as he skipped through the slides. The privilege of the higher rung on the corporate totem pole. Not giving a shit. - The Guardians are entirely composed of artillery and heavy support units. Their job is to ensure that any immediate threats do not approach close proximity to the convoy. Their weaponry is to be always ready to open fire, and they are allowed to engage at will, as long as they do not leave their designated position. - that description made Dirk quite confused as to why the hell Misha was assigned there. - a Small group of Guardian squad is also armed and selected to patrol the dead zones within the artillery range, preventing any stragglers from slipping through. Whoever made this presentation for Tom sure was thorough with the explanations. So much so that the digital whiteboard started expanding its holographic display outside its square boundaries. There were loads of information, perhaps too much at once. Dirk never went chasing higher education, but he could fathom a guess that thats how university lectures must have felt. - The last two teams, the Main Force and Rear Guard, are tightly intertwined. - to accentuate his point, Tom clasped both hands together. - Within the Main Force will be three trucks hauling the mission-critical cargo, callsign Bush. - the reference wasnt lost on Dirk, so he chuckled slightly. - On top of that, there will be four more dummy trucks, driven by Ouroboros company employees. None of you shall be informed which payloads are real and which are dummies. The Main Force and Rear Guard will both sport an equal amount of personnel and ordinance between them. All to ensure that in the case of an unforeseen ambush, the goods can be exchanged between the two teams to make up for any losses. On top of that, the Rear Guard team will be the closest to the Main Force out of any group. Holder began looking around, inspecting the attentiveness of all gathered, or maybe he was looking for someone? - Is everything clear? Any questions? - Tom asked, clearly ready to move one to another slide. Memorizing all that info was a cakewalk for someone like Dirk, but he did wonder how all the other mercs felt. Were they too stubborn and professional to ask questions about something they didnt get? It was an interesting conundrum. To lose face, or the potentially life-saving information. Dirk had seen it all too often in boot camp. In some military circles, ones pride was ones lifeline. To throw it away asking asinine questions like a little kid was often as good as forfeiting ones life. It was interesting toC - Yes? What is it? - Tom spoke, noticing someone''s hand arising from the crowd. In response, like startled animals, all heads turned towards the inquirer. - So what youre telling us is that you want us to bust our balls off for the same pay as all those other mouth breathers cozily cooped up with the main force, with ten times the risk and one third of the manpower? And then you can no. Then you will leave us for dead the moment we encounter any resistance? - a scruffy looking guy in khaki cargo pants and a tank top gave voice to the thoughts that were probably bouncing around in everyones heads. His tone was miffed to say the least, and he was clutching a sort of back-tank between his legs connected to a weird hose in his hands. Probably his personal weapon. - Thats one way to put it. - Tom didnt seem too concerned with the question, nor did he feel any remorse for dropping the dire news on the mercs as bluntly as he did. - Cut the shit, corpo-boy. Is this some punishment game? Are we here for your bosses amusement? - I cannot disclose any information concerning the upper management at the moment. - Tom smiled the most fake, placating smile he could muster. - But despite the apparent negatives, I think you will quickly grow to like working in this unit. Look around you and tell me what you see? - A rag-tag bunch of greedy fools and nobodies. - Hey! - Barbara couldnt hold it in at the rude comment, but was quickly interrupted by Tom. - I beg to differ, but alas. What you see is what you get.- he smirked, crossing his arms on his chest and sweeping the room with an expectant gaze. - Will there be any Ouroboros grunts? - another merc chimed in, taking a stab at what the HRA manager was hinting at. This one was in a full ghillie suit despite being indoors and sticking out like a sore thumb. - An excellent question! - Holder pointed at the man with a finger with excitement. - No. There will be no company representatives posted in your unit. You will, however, be in close and constant contact with the two units directly behind you, and you will have to make regular reports to them. - You said that we are there to trailblaze and identify, but never said anything about neutralizing threats. - Dirk threw in his two cents, his mind now in full combat analysis mode, his ire from before long forgotten. - I love to be working with attentive employees. - Tom snapped his finger to accentuate his words. - Indeed. You are a scouting unit, not an assault one. You are to relay information first and foremost. Unless the convoys fate relies on it, you will not be required to directly engage enemy cells. While theres no guarantee that your potential foes wont try to engage you, as long as you warn your two sister units about the incoming threats, you are allowed to scatter and regroup later as much as you need. Which isnt to say that you wont have to defend yourselves. - And this lineup of clowns? - the tank top spoke up again, still stuck on the issue of his coworkers. - Doesnt exactly scream stealthy if you ask me. - He twisted around in his chair, looking at each merc for a second before getting stuck at Jason. - While remaining undetected can be a great boon, the management deemed it more important to provide you with versatility. Your unit has been constructed to ensure that you are self-sufficient and ready for most threats. Just the reduced unit size should allow the company issued jammers to work wonders on your detectability. - Some versatility we have. - some guy too far away for Dirk to see in the dim room spoke up. - Well see how versatile the loudmouth with the back tank is when he falls over in the snow. - he snorted, making the man in question shoot up from his seat in anger. - Now listen here, you littleC - Gentlemen, please - Tom pinched the bridge of his nose. - lets get through this briefing without getting the security involved, yeah? Dirk pondered for a second. Versatility - he echoed in his mind as he looked around. - So the management is going for a group of hyper-specialists who are supposed to cover each other''s weaknesses. A fools errand, really. Theres no team here, just individuals brought together by circumstance. - Is it too late for the scrubbing? - another voice chimed in, much to Dirks amusement. - Perhaps I got excited too soon. - Holder murmured under breath, ignoring the question altogether, but composed himself quickly as befitting a professional. - If its going to ease your worries, as the one overseeing your examinations, I can personally assure you of everyones individual skills. - he flashed Dirk a brief coy smirk and continued. - Then again, Im not the one going out into the field. I will finish the presentation and if by then you are still unsure about this arrangement, Ill allow you a one-time opportunity to volunteer for scrubbing. Still, even in my current position, I can only dream of the payout you people will be getting at the finish line. - he turned around with a shrug to face the whiteboard. - Nice push and pull there, corpo-boy. Very sly. - the prickly back tank guy shot a comment his way, squeezing a barely audible tongue-click out of Holder. - The main way you will be assisting the convoy, aside from the reports, will be by placing detection beacons along the way to map out the trail and give your sister units proper sight of the way ahead. Though the overall path is already planned, in case of a reroute you will also be in charge of scouting for the most accessible trail. - the slides started moving again, showing the sleek-looking devices marked as beacons and a few pictures of the harsh Russian landscape torn up by old wars, with a few ruined cities sprinkled in, all caked in a meter-thick layer of snow. The Russian essentials in the current day. - But with responsibilities also come certain benefits. You will be visiting cities and settlements along the way to regroup and resupply. In bigger hubs, each of you will receive what our logistics specialists call a maintenance fund to spend as you like, and with being at the forefront of the column, you will obviously get the first pick at anything the locals offer. What it will be, no one can tell, but know this. To survive the Russian wasteland, you need a little more than wits and guts. - Is the maintenance fund taken out of our final payment? - Barbara got a word in at last, and a sensible one too. - It is fully independent - Now youre talking my language, corpo-boy. As the veteran watched the entire room voicing their satisfaction with the premise of even more money, he could only smirk. He wasnt some ascetic monk, being able to live off the land and scoffing at the dough thrown his way, but the ease with which those men and women alike became bribed into committing assisted suicide in the Scout team was just tragic. Still, those people were the team he was assigned to. One which Holder assembled with all intent and purpose to be led by him, probably as some form of entertainment on the side of the Executives. Dirk was self-aware enough to make peace with that, as annoying as it was. - No more complaints? No scrubbing candidates? - Tom asked one last time. But before anybody could chime in, Dirk got up and headed for the exit. Tom said all there was to be said, and the topic brought up by the tank-top guy could only lead to more questions about money. He got all the necessary info, anything else would be simple futile negotiations. Jason mechanically went after him, spurring a few more mercs to get up, following their example. Near the door, just as it was mentioned during the seminar started, stood two Ouroboros soldiers, ready to hand out snow-white folders and some sort of electronics. Seeing Chernobogs questioning gaze, one of them held the thing up and started an explanation. - This terminal, property of Ouroboros, functions like a credit card, housing all the maintenance fund money allotted to each of you. - next he grabbed the boxy apparatus by the side and pressed a few buttons on it. - As not all transactions in the wastelands can be digital, the terminal also has a function to print most sanctioned currencies you may encounter along the way of the convoy. Dirk scoffed, but as ridiculous as printing money on the fly sounded to him, with a very low cricket an ordinary Imperial bill exited the terminal. The guard grabbed it and gave it to Chernobog for inspection. It looked genuine - How did Ouroboros obtain a permit from the Empire''s mill to print their currency? - merc asked. - You do not have access to this information at the moment. - security officer responded bluntly. - If youd like to know, you can file a request to gain access to related documentation regC - Forget I asked. - the veteran cut the discussion short, knowing all too well how the requesting process worked in any bureaucratic environment. He wasnt interested in wasting the next three weeks filing papers only to receive a file filled with 99.9% of its content redacted. Without any more questions on his mind, he took the folder and the terminal, waved away a complimentary Ouroboros company thanks you for your cooperation and pushed the door open. According to what Holder told him on their merry walk back at the very end of the evaluation, all mercs now had 45 minutes to pack their shit, receive the company issued equipment and amass at a designated location. There was no need to ask anyone about directions, as the surroundings changed yet again. The clinical and empty corridors were now filled with neon arrows, stretching across the walls and ceilings, pointing towards all the facilities employed mercenaries had to go through. - They even added numbers next to the names of facilities. - a well known female voice resounded from behind him. - For all those who dont like reading. - she fanned herself with a folder of her own - Da, for those truly gifted in the arts of not knowing how to follow simple orders. - Misha chimed in, apparently done with his own presentation and having a sixth sense for finding his way towards him. Dirk took a glance over his shoulder and, just as he presumed, Barbaras sister was with him too, at a more than respectable distance, of course. - How was your briefing? - he asked the pair that belonged to squad 3. - Forgettable. - the jovial Ruskie summarized on account of himself and Felicia. - Werent you people interested in how much money you can spend on private provisions and pointless trinkets? - Chernobog threw a light-hearted comment, heading where a giant arrow with Armory - 1 written across it pointed. - Knowing how big pharma works, Ill just go out on a limb and guess that its enough to buy a house. - Misha responded, following suit. - Through down payment, of course. - Me and my sister have already brought enough provisions and ammunition to carry us through the entirety of the road-trip. - Barbara added, speaking for both sisters. - Where do you carry all that stuff? - the Russian asked what Dirk was thinking. - I know your tin-cans are large and all, but something doesnt add up in my head. - One of the trucks within the Main Force is ours. - she explained with a bit of pride. - Giant-ass one to boot, with caterpillar tracks and shit, one of those UG-25s, in off-road configuration. - Jebutie pierogi, do you gals have some money-growing trees in your garden? That thing isnt even a truck, its a god-damn land-ship! - Yeah, but its on the smaller side, so it falls under the category of a really big truck. - the younger of the Prusk sisters smiled. - On the money side, its all my big sis, she got hitched high you know? All the eyes turned towards Felicia, who acted indifferent to the attention. - My husband is a corporate executive. - she explained. - And here I thought he was the Emperor himself. - Morozov joked, quite baffled. - Because thats a lot of money to throw around. - He isnt throwing it around. - Felicia enunciated. - He simply purchased a vehicle to accommodate his wifes needs. Like a caravan for summer holiday. The corridor went quiet, but it was simply silence before the storm. Like thunder, Morozov exploded with laughter, cackling like a hyena - Blyat, rich people truly live in a different world. - he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. - You should take notes then. - the older sister responded, seemingly not amused. - Once the convoy reaches its destination, youll be one of them. Chapter 15 - The Wine Cellar Far away, beyond the reach of the Ouroboros corporation, a revenant glided across the well-lit hallways. Even if they still had plenty of time before the banquet, Ajaxs pace was urgent and deliberate. Still, his entourage shadowed each long stride he took without much effort. The faceless soldiers, the Palace Guard as they were called, were like a ball and chain dangling from his feet, slowing him down to a crawl as he made his way to a very important meeting. Hed much rather drag along his own men, but they were currently busy with more important matters. Alas, there was nothing he could do about it. It was customary for the highest rung of Empire officials to not move unattended, and General Hyena was not one to disregard customs, even if they were not to his liking. He embraced tradition. He embraced duty. Unlike some within these great walls His stride soon had him standing in front of an elevator. Its gold and silver doors - modest, yet somehow dignified with all the engravings decorating its surface. With a glance at one, he saw the fall of the last Russian rebellion etched into gold and closed his eyes with faint indignation. It certainly was a great success, how the Empire subdued an entire nation-wide uprising within hours, but the event also had its own set of troubling results. Ajax glanced back, skimming over the Palace soldiers and stopping his gaze on the source of his never-ending headaches. Adjutant Blaz stood there, her existence ever infuriating, even now that she was putting on a facade of officiality when surrounded by third parties. But he knew better than that. He knew that this thing was simply waiting for the right moment to whittle away at his sanity with a mocking smile plastered all over her disgusting, inhuman face, away from prying eyes. Away from witnesses. She met his gaze, her expression unchanged. In her eye, however, he could see a glint of sadistic joy mixed with a wicked awareness that whatever happened between them would stay only between them. He broke the staring contest with disdain bubbling just underneath the surface of his skin. Every molecule of his very being screaming for a release. But he knew better. He was better. He would not be defeated by this childish mind game. He had his obligations to fulfill. To the country. To the Emperor. Hed sooner fall over dead than let that stain on the Empires history stand in the way of his duty. Things were about to go into motion, historic things, and he had a hand in them. Hed be the spearhead of the coming change in this country, so held back by stagnation that had infected its very core. But to do that, hed have to start from the very bottom. Hed have to eliminate the traitors that this beautiful, yet misguided country had been harboring for much too long, starting with the so-called hero. A man so useless and spent, yet somehow allowed to live through sheer mercy of the Emperor. But no more. That ends soon. The word was that he did not heed his warning and made contact with enemy cells. The rest was not important. That should be enough to rationalize taking any necessary steps to neutralize this new threat to this countrys integrity and the safety of its people. Ares was too deeply involved with the state, after all, and despite any honey-glazed words of honor and official commendations written within the decree that dismissed him from duty all those years ago, he was still a threat of unimaginable magnitude when in the wrong place at the wrong time. And it just so happened that he marched right into those circumstances, putting a bullseye right on top of his head for Hyena to strike with precision worthy of his station. Ajax scoffed, entering the elevator and standing at its very center. In reality, he did not even need to mention Ares involvement with the Ouroboros affairs. He just had to obliterate whatever unit he was in, and there was enough reason to do so, considering just how dangerous any cargo those traitorous wretches could possibly carry really was. Ouroboros was never with the Empire, and it was truly fortunate that theyd shown their true colors sooner rather than later. It would make his job of exterminating them that much easier, now that they were still on the grid. The soldiers took their places around General Hyena, their regal uniforms glistening in the light of the small crystal chandelier above, just a cut above the standard-issue combat suits of the rank-and-file. Veronica Blaz took her place at his side, her stone-cold gaze now completely unreadable. Not that Ajax was ever going to read into the mind of the insane. There is no rhyme, nor reason. Only impulses and instincts, and hers are wildly destructive. - he thought to himself, not dignifying the creature with a second glance. The elevator moved upwards, prompted by the push of a button. It moved gently, almost impossibly so, yet quickly. Another marvel of Imperial technology. - How much time until the banquet starts? - Ajax Daunt asked with a steady voice. - 30 minutes, General. - one of the guards answered, his words stiff and tone trained. - Excellent. You will run a check on the hall in that time-frame. Search for any foreign devices and unaccounted personnel. - It has alreadyC - It is an order. - he commanded with undivided authority. - Understood, sir. - the entourage answered as one with a click of their heels. Daunt needed time alone in the hall. Or, as alone as he could get with the wretch stuck to his side. Without a doubt he was not going to be the only one arriving early, and despite his aversion towards this particular person of interest, he needed data only he could provide. Time was of the essence, as that info played a critical role within his plans regarding the cleansing. The Heavenly Generals eyes locked with another piece of fine art etched into the walls of the elevator. The Emperors ascension to the throne and his conquest of Europe. What a magnificent sight it must have been. - he thought to himself. - If only I could have been there to help. The elevator slowed down and came to a stop. The doors parted, and the guards spilled out first, forming a path forward. Hyena fastened his tie, ensured that his beret wasnt crooked, and moved along. The outfit he took for the banquet wasnt anything extraordinary. It was the same gray military coat he wore on official business occasions. The only accessory that deviated from the norm was a bunch of medals adorning his chest. Just like the Palace guards in their beautiful outfits, they were part of the decorum required for such gatherings of the higher society. But unlike the soldiers, Daunt wholeheartedly abhorred those cheap trinkets. A true patriot distinguished himself through action, not laurel wreaths thrown over his head, they were as pointless to him as the ornamental spade residing within the scabbard Veronica carried. No soldier needed a dull blade. No country needed a dull soldier. - Heavenly General. - his secretary whispered from behind. - Your prey is on the dance floor, two-o-clock The way she worded it made him shoot a glance towards her, but her eyes were obscured by a blue fringe, much longer than a few hours ago. It is another abhorrent trait of her ilk. With a little stimulation, she could grow her hair out as long as she wanted. All she needed to do was damage her scalp over and over again, which she probably did without any hesitation. As disgusting as the knowledge about regenerators was, there was also a silver lining. Eventually, Veronica would feed Daunt enough information about herself for him to be able to dispose of her easily. Her and any of her disgusting brethren, should the need arise. - Heavenly General, if you continue staring at me like that, Ill have to file for sexual harassment in the workplace. - and there it came, her exaggerated grin. - Follow me. - he ignored the remark, before turning towards the Palace guards. - At ease and dismissed. In perfect unison, the soldiers saluted, before scattering in different directions, probably given new specific orders through the comms. Returning to the task at hand, Ajax Daunt began walking towards the other member of the upper military echelon. His peer, who was casually leaning against one of the ivory pillars on the edges of the designated dancing area. But somehow it didnt seem out of place. There were few people populating the area, but that was to be expected. After all, they were both early. Twenty-five minutes, to be exact, before the Emperors son made his grand entrance that always officially started events like this one. What was this ones purpose? Joint oil-rig contract between The Empire and Kintsugi Union. It was supposed to be a 50/50 split between both countries, both in terms of facility ownership and income. Quite a grandiose occasion, considering that a 100 people strong delegation from Kintsugi Union would be allowed to enter and enjoy themselves within the Imperial Palace. It has been 5 years since the last meeting with a foreign superpower on the Empire''s soil. Thats why Palace guards have been mobilized, and all Heavenly Generals would be attending the banquet. Not because they were needed, but because it was a political maneuver. Simple power projection. Making the most well known and respected people within the Empire after the Royal Family attend served as a show of power, integrity and a warning, in an event that the Union would try to flex their oriental might. Despite all that, to Ajax himself, the whole banquet played second fiddle. What he was really after was the information he could get from within, here, where his colleague couldnt simply hide behind a wall of formalities. - Heavenly General Cicada. - he spoke, finally standing and towering over his man-of-the-hour. - Enjoying the beverages I see. The man in question looked up at him lazily, not even hiding the lack of care. They both wore the same outfit, with the sole difference being Cicadas hat, laying on the empty table nearby. Instead of the classic beret, it was an old-school cavalier hat, with a large bright yellow feather. Leaving it lying like that was a breach of etiquette. Regrettably, the situation required Ajax to avoid getting on the other General''s bad side, so he kept that comment to himself. - Heavenly General Hyena. - the older man responded, breaking their staring contest and opting to observe other guests instead as they trickled in. - Indeed, I was enjoying a glass of Domaine de la Romanee-Conti Grand Cru. Want to join me? - Ill have to pass, Im on duty. - the heavy accent on was did not elude General Daunt. - Hmm. - Cicada cut off his response with a murmur. - General Johansson. - Ajax didnt allow those little jabs to deter him. - I came into possession of some interesting information recently. Perhaps you caught wind of it too, as the Emperor''s Ears... For the first time since he approached him, the older gentleman looked at Daunt with eyes no longer clouded with disinterest. Peering at the face covered with wrinkles, liver spots and scars, those twin-windows to the soul seemed almost uncanny. Sharp, endlessly blue and piercing like a blade. A few years ago, Ajax might have been intimidated by that look, forced to stutter and mumble until the desire to press on with the topic fully evaporated from his mind. But those days were nothing but a shameful memory. Now they were equal in standing, even if the old coot would never admit that openly. So Ajax leaned slightly towards him, with the corners of his mouth moving ever so slowly upwards. - that a certain individual, quite important to our Empires illustrious history, has been partaking in shady deals behind our back. The Emperor''s back. - Ajax drove a point home with strong enunciation. Each word mixed with venom dripping from his tongue. - Thats a first for me. - Cicada responded, his tone much more commanding than before. - Youd be wise to not build your arguments on hearsay, rather opting for your secretary to carry a dossier with the topic you want to touch upon, instead of your sword. Veronica smiled at Johansson, while he sipped from the wine glass. At that moment of dismissal, he missed the malicious smile that spread on Ajaxs face like a blaze on a dry wheat field. The dark joy was palpable on Hyenas face. The younger of the two buried his hand under a heavy coat and revealed a dossier, closed tightly with an Imperial seal. General Daunt slowly walked over to the table where Cicadas hat lay dormant, as if enjoying each step on the spotless marble floor. He took a seat, pushed the hat aside, and placed the file in its place. His eyes, peering at the senior soldier, beckoned him to take a seat. Heavenly General Marcus Cicada Johansson knew he had no choice but to oblige. No matter what resided within that dossier, if he didnt open it here, breaking the Imperial Seal, Daunt would move around with that carcass in his jaws, bringing it to someone higher. Probably Prince Argos. That would spell problems for both of them. Scorched Earth, is it? You little punk - Marcus hid his annoyance deep within, reluctantly walking up to the table. - Either I bend the knee or we all go down for gross incompetence. How zealous of you. Marcus sat down across Ajax, whose face returned to its neutral expression, even if the glint within his eyes betrayed how he truly felt. Cicada grabbed the file without much urgency, but just by holding it up, its seal suddenly broke. Adjutant Blaz was the only one who paid any mind to that incomprehensible occurrence by whistling lightly. Without further ado, the old man removed the clean stack of papers from within and proceeded to glance over it. It was a wall of text, intercut by infrared photos and an almost endless stream of black highlighters. Unfortunately for him, decades spent knee-deep in red-tape robbed his eyes of blissful ignorance, accurately filling out all the redacted bits, omitting the need to exchange any words with the other Heavenly General. While Marcus read, a sheepish looking waiter walked up to their trio. It was part of his job to entertain the guests, no matter their station, but the sheer pressure between the two soldiers made spit in his mouth go dry. So he swallowed once, he swallowed twice. Both men were casually sitting across each other, yet the air around them felt like a translucent battlefield. - Ill have whisky on ice. - a female voice nearly gave him a heart attack. - Heavenly General Hyena will have tonic water on ice, with extra lime. - Uhm, ah, yes. - the poor service worker stumbled over any word his brain could ever conceive, before turning on his heel and waking away, feeling older by a few decades. Cicada read on, skimming through most of the text, but at the same time working overtime in his mind as he extrapolated each and every sentence into a whole slew of causes and effects, taking educated guesses as to which arm of the military was responsible for acquiring which piece of data, discarding those less reliable and committing to memory those which could not be ignored. If this file was prepared by his own men, he would not bother with this weird convoluted procedure, simply being able to go by what was written, but alas, he didnt have the time, resources, or the will to train every single cell in the Empire proper espionage and reporting procedures. Some of the info, despite good effort, was clearly unusable. Red herrings riddled the file, dead ends were everywhere, but even then it was not as bad as Marcus expected, or hoped it would be. There was a lot of actual usable info, and all of it led back to the movements of Ares, now retired from the Imperial army. As he read, Cicada felt a twitch in his hand. An impulse to take out a red marker he always had on hand and start correcting, but he fought against it, opting to pull out a case of cigars. Withholding information was also a part of his job, and if there was a single person in the Empire who didnt need to know more than they already did, it was Hyena. Marcus took out one cig for himself and offered one to Daunt without much haste, which he promptly refused with a polite-yet-mocking smile only he could pull off. - Lets keep such expensive items for celebrations, shall we? It wont be long, I assure you. - a twinkle appeared in his eye as he glanced towards the file on reflex. - Oh, they are pretty cheap. I roll them myself. - Cicada exhaled, ready to pull his little case back, but stopped himself. - How about you? - he looked towards Veronica with an empty expression, one which she repaid with a knowing smile. - Sure, thank you! - she bowed a little in gratitude. Whether it was genuine or just an act remained a mystery. With a flick of his wrist, Marcus launched a single cigar into the air and hid the case with a slow and measured movement, not at all in a hurry to catch the object now in free fall. He didnt even spare it a glance as a small black cloud exited his sleeve and intercepted the falling object midair. Despite how completely bizarre it was, nobody even batted an eye at this uncanny display, and Veronica took the cigar with gratitude as the thing floated its way towards her. Ajax wanted to sigh in frustration. He hated the smell of Marcus cigars, and now the scent would linger not only all around them, but would follow him all day in the form of this annoying wretch at his side. Still, he kept his frustration mostly to himself, opting to straighten out his outfit to occupy both his itching hands and the running mind. Marcus then took out a small, cheap-looking matchbox and lit his own cigar, then Veronicas in much the same manner using the black cloud with impeccable dexterity. When the display was over, the cloud retreated under his clothes and all was normal to the outside eye once again. General Cicada looked over the file again. There was nothing there he didnt already know, so it was easy to keep a cool face about it. Still, the fact remained that it was more than he expected Ajax to be able to gather at such a short notice. Despite his hotheadedness and borderline psychopathic tendencies, the young General sure worked with a dedication seldom seen even in the most loyal soldiers of the Empire. If anything ever afforded him the place among the Heavenly Generals, it was probably that single-minded focus. - Your men did a good job. - Marcus commended, sliding the file back towards the other man. For their standards, anyway - he added in his mind. - You can keep it. - Daunt stopped the file with his hand in the middle of the table, pushing back against Marcus. - I have it all memorized. - Memorys a fickle thing, General Hyena. - Youth has its benefits, General Cicada. I trust in my ability to remember. Marcus took a puff from his cigar and exhaled deeply to the side. Talking with Hyena sure could take a toll on a man. - Alright. Thank you. I will take good care of it. - Marcus assured, letting his junior push the file back his way. - Now, onto the main topicC Their battle of intellects came to a screeching halt, as the main ballroom doors swung open. Looking at the time, both men had certain predictions regarding whom the next guest would be. Surprisingly, both of them were in the wrong, but only the older one managed to hide his bewilderment concerning the newly arrived. Within the confines of the ballroom appeared a large man, draped in an ornate, dark blue uniform. The hat on his head, alongside the very peculiar linings, betrayed the branch to which he belonged - the navy. Complementing the shade of his outfit was his complexion. It was dark, or rather, pitch-black. From far away, it looked as if his whole being absorbed light, preventing anyone from discerning finer details about his visage, except the few that blatantly stood out. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Multiple scars lined his face. That man - Adjutant Blaz. - Hyena kept staring daggers into the new arrival. - Sir. - his secretary responded and took in another mouthful of smoke he despised. - The invitation was successfully received by Heavenly General Morena, exactly 47 hours ago, am I wrong? - You are correct, sir. - Then why is his second in command currently standing on the ballroom floor? - his hand curled up into a fist. - I bet hell spill the beans once he notices us, sir. - Veronica once more broke the code of conduct in her usual, casual manner. God dammit, Magnus - thought General Cicada, slowly raising his hand to massage the bridge of his nose. Not a minute later, which felt like an eternity, a strongly built stand-in for the missing Heavenly General noticed the table at which the two other men who carried the same title resided. He took off his hat, placed it under his armpit, and then proceeded in due haste towards them. With an unoccupied arm and a powerful slam of his heels, he saluted. - Vice Admiral Silvers Winslow, reporting in, sirs! - he announced with a low voice smooth as butter. - I am a representative within the official capacity of Heavenly General Magnus Morena Verga, sirs! - At- Before General Johansson could even utter a word, Ajax took charge, with a tone much calmer than before, but his anger still managed to seep through the cracks. - On what ground did Heavenly General Magnus Verga decide to alter the pre-existing plan of this meeting, soldier? - while he spoke, Ajaxs mind was trying to enumerate all the different aspects of the charity ball the absence of the third General would impact. - I will be quoting the Heavenly General from this point on, sirs! - with that, Winslow took a deep breath. - I have more important things to do than attend a costume-party organized by some chicken-shit bureaucrats. Me and ''Leviathan'' will proceed towards the international waters between Empire and Kintsugi Union to ensure that they do not try anything funny in the chaos of it all. Gotta avoid any international incidents while you guys are drinking champagne and spewing pre-rehearsed pleasantries. Silvers will go as my representative, he should suffice. Silence befell their table. Only the sounds of waiters and waitresses moving around tables and many different dishes in preparations for the upcoming event masked the sheer tension surrounding the place where Heavenly Generals were meant to converge. - At ease. - Cicada finished his previously interrupted sentence with a heavy sigh. - That''s the most unfortunate turn of events - Unfortunate? - Hyena turned towards the old-timer, his pupils as small as pin-heads. - You call this unfortunate? Thats a fucking disaster, you senile old man! - Ajax decided to forgo any possible decorum at this point. Instead, putting his two fingers towards his left ear. - Code 245123. - he spoke to someone on the other end of the concealed earpiece while getting off his chair. - Connect me to the leader of the Japanese representatives escort and get me a god-damn VTOL on the coordinates- He signed with his free hand towards Veronica to take his place, while he stormed out of the ballroom, already yelling at someone. As his words became more and more distant, Marcus remained in his seat, now two adjutants keeping him company. He raised a brow, looking at Silvers, and swept his open palm across the table. - Take a seat, lad, you are officially representing Heavenly General Morena, arent you? - he took a deep toke from the cigar. - Something to drink for you? - Maybe a stogie? - Veronica added, crossing both legs over the tabletop and leaning back. - Long time no see, by the way The ebony man glanced at the woman with a look that didnt betray much of anything, aside from an unwavering calmness that only a sailor could possess. - Quite. For me, that is. - he gave her a thoughtful nod of recognition. - Whats a few years when youve got 19 thousand of them to spare? - Good memory youve got there. - she snapped her fingers and pointed at him. - Didnt think youd remember such a miniscule detail about me. - It was a very memorable day. - he sighed. - For you and me both. - she nodded in agreement. - And I see youve come to like the name? - I love it. - Im glad to hear that. And with that the awkward small talk died out as quickly as it began. There was obviously some personal history between the two, but somehow the atmosphere felt unbearably lukewarm, of all things. That was, until Veronica spoke up again. - Youre darker than I remember. - she said with a deadpan expression. Obviously, if anybody was to drop a bomb like that out of nowhere at an official governmental gathering in front of one of the most important people in the country, it would be Veronica. Silvers raised an eyebrow, apparently not quite ready to answer, instead looking to General Cicada for any kind of reaction, but the old man seemed to have openly opted not to hear the comment, and looked elsewhere, taking a sip of his beverage. As he put the glass down, he looked the man in the eye and gave him a barely noticeable down-nod. At that moment Silvers was absolved of any responsibility for the words hed choose to answer with. Cicada would simply pretend he didnt hear, but the sailor apparently was full of surprises. - Maybe its the black circles under my eyes. - he deflected the comment with a witty retort and a warm smile. - The nights at the sea have been pretty turbulent as of late. You, though. You look different, too. - he scanned her up and down and gave a jab of his own. - Did you put on some weight? - I did, actually! - she perked up, unexpectedly excited. - Thank you for noticing. Working for lil Ajax is sooooo boring, Ive actually been working on my regenerator abilities to kill time, and let me tell you, theres a lot of time to kill. - she took her legs off the table and leaned forwards in her seat. - I know Dokie said that I was a failure and whatnot, since I couldnt over-regenerate, but I just had to keep trying, you know? - To spite him. - the formal and all too clean smile of the man quickly twisted into a mischievous grin without him even noticing as he too leaned in a little closer. - Yeah, that! And now with a lot of training I can go 5 grams either below or above my baseline. Not counting hair. Thats just dead tissue. - she flicked her fringe up with one hand, revealing both of her black eyes. - See, lass? I knew you were more than met the eye. I told you. And just like that the weird tension was gone, Veronicas tone-deafness played off as mere banter. - So you know each other, I assume? - Marcus made his presence known once again, feeling it was a good moment to inject himself into the conversation. - Oh, youre saying it like you didnt already know. - the female regenerator rolled her eyes. - Being the big boss of all the Empires intel must be nice. - It would be bad manners to admit it outright. - the Heavenly General cracked a toothy grin only a select group of old people could muster, and sent out a black cloud to fetch him something. Not five seconds later it returned with a bottle of gin. - If I am to believe the latest report, this is your poison of choice. Is that correct? - That it is, sir General. - Silvers confirmed, adjusting his manner of speaking to maintain the last bit of decorum between him and his superior. - You can speak casually. You are not so far beneath me in the chain of command as to be all prim and proper during what essentially amounts to an overly expensive party on the taxpayers dime. With Hyena gone, nobody will bat an eye. - he made his point clear, swirling the last sip of liquor in his glass with one hand. - Aye. - the sailor nodded his head with a bit of apprehension. - So, with that out of the way, pray tell me. What do you think of this whole thing. - he gestured all around, not moving his gaze from the man. - The deal, the banquet and where everything falls into place. - Im just a second in command. I dont think my opinion really matters. Besides, even if I have one, it has probably reached you by now sir. - he shrugged, but couldnt force himself to drop the decorum all the way. - I deal with information networks and espionage, boy. Im not a mind reader. None of my people are. - he prompted him to spill the beans. - And you are currently in command, as it was, so dont hold back. Silvers winced a bit hearing the General refer to him as boy. The age gap was wide and obvious, probably making most people in Marcus eyes mere children, but even then, the sailor was no boy. Still, he answered. - A show of force to the world. Always is whenever General Morena is involved. But that fell through, since the Leviathan is not here. - he rubbed his thick, gray beard for a second and continued. - Bread and circuses, maybe? I think Ive seen recording crews gathered outside, so it wouldnt surprise me if people were to spew sophistries on live television. Even the Emperors favorite son will attend. Thats always a surefire way to get the publics attention. All that to create an image of peace and prosperity. A farce, in short. A quick distraction from the real problems. - And here I thought I was being smart when I came up with it. - Marcus chuckled with a bit of sarcasm. - Yes, you are correct. Its a bit of a show for everyone to see. Youve probably already noticed, as have everyone else with the least bit of brain in this damn country, that things are a little volatile at the moment. Crimes on the rise. Terrorist cells keep popping up. Our relations with the Anglos are turning sour pretty quickly. The Ouroboros splitting off Its a whole mess - Thats a lot of truths all at once from a public figures mouth. - Veronica mocked with a smile. - If only I could be this truthful every day - Cicada sighed. With that, their table fell silent again. Marcus drank, Veronica smoked, and Silvers stared at the table silently, processing all the information given to him. Even though most of his days he spent on the ship alongside his superior, the sailor always kept up-to-date with what happened on dry land. The Empire, despite its world-gripping superiority, wasnt doing too well. Every citizen willing to look through the gaps in the Big Brothers ever-tightening grasp of half-truths and propaganda was able to see the signs. It wasnt an outright downwards spiral of anarchy and chaos, no. It was more subtle, so only the few who paid attention could see the cracks that lined the mighty colossus surface. A miniscule drop in GDP here, tightening the belt on military research by a notch there, one or two mechanized squads being pulled from conquered territories each year. Nothing that would really prompt anybody to look deeper into things. But if one were to squint hard enough and find a document or two without the red tape Even if truth was meticulously controlled and fed in just the right servings to the masses, a crumb or two would always fall off the tabletop, down where the hungry rats writhed and squirmed. The fact that one of the two men who were fabricating and controlling those half-truths was so candid about it with Silvers only made it that much more concerning. If the liars on which you rely start feeling queasy, then how long can the charade last? Silvers contemplated it all deep inside, not really trusting his companions to react positively to what he was thinking. But alas, the looks the both of them gave him showed that maybe the sanctity of his mind wasnt as impregnable as he thought. - Oh! Something is cooking in that noggin of yours, aint that right? - lady Blaz smiled with clenched teeth, inadvertently biting into the cigar she smoked. - Seems like our fishie caught the bait, old man. - Is that so? - General Cicada raised his eyebrow. - Thats quite a surprise, I thought that Magnus would ban all of you from reading newspapers and data-slates, since they are peddled by these blasted landlubbers. - he moved the glass aside. - Want to share your thoughts, boy? - I dont think I want to, sir. - Murenas stand-in shot them down swiftly. - Afraid of committing a thought crime? - the old man smirked. - No, sir. - Then what is there to be afraid of? We still have time before the Crown Princes entourage arrives and thanks to Ajax being a nervous little shit, there are no ears to spy on your words, and no mouths to tell you how to think. - With all due respect, sir, youre saying that as the person overseeing all the information flow across the Empire. - Silvers slightly frowned, not knowing if the man before him lacked self-awareness or was leading him along by the nose. - There are things even a scurvied dog cant get away with saying. - Theres that sailors mouth! Maybe if I keep on pressing the right buttons, youll finally start talking to me like a normal person? - Marcus chuckled, with Veronica seconding his reaction. But despite it all, Silvers remained stern, falling silent after the Generals words. The latter frowned softly. - I know you said he would be a tough nut to crack, but are you sure he isnt simply anti-social? - Heavenly General gave Hyena''s adjutant a side eye. - He certainly is much more high-strung than I remember. - she responded, while removing a burnt-out cigar from her mouth. - You can take the man out of the sea, but you cant take the sea out of a man. - I am unsure if I understand the allegory. - as the general responded, his black mist flew back to the table, carrying something - Despite that, the look in his eyes and the little conversation we had shows me hes the good ol Silvers, thats for sure. - For your own good, I hope youre right. Thankfully, there is one more trick for me to try to open this can-of-tuna. As the black swarm dispersed, it revealed an intricate wine glass, from the same set as the Generals. Without a word, the older gentleman poured wine into it. There was nothing special about it, until the cloud flew into the red concoction and started stirring it. Right before Silvers eyes, the mysterious particles mixed seamlessly with the wines crimson hue, becoming indistinguishable from each other. That was the moment when Marcus pushed the glass towards the sailor. - Im quite a sly old man, you see. - What? - for the first time, the burly soldier let go of the honorifics when addressing the General. - Drink it. - Cicada responded nonchalantly. - I will have toC - That is an order. One sentence, four words - that was all that it took to disperse any atmosphere of pleasantries at the table. The wrinkled face of the old man before Silvers wasnt smiling anymore, its expression was lax and uncaring. Quite adequate for the man who wielded so much power behind the title of Heavenly General. The sailor swallowed hard, just now feeling the pressure bearing down on him in full force. - Dont worry, its a good vintage. - Veronica smirked, being stoked about the whole situation. Guess she didnt change that much. - the sailor thought. He had no more tricks to pull, as much as his instinct was telling him to resist. Spilling the wine, making a ruckus, declining again, all those options would do more harm than good, as they all would come back to bite General Morena in the ass. Admiral Winslow just had to go along with whatever that duo had in plans for him. He doubted it was poison, but you could never tell with someone as sly as the legendary Marcus Cicada Johansson. So he grabbed the glass, raised it up, made a small nudge towards the previously mentioned man and gulped it all down. - You could have at least savored it. - Heavenly General grumbled. - It was quite fucking expensive. - I do not like wine very much, sir. - he responded, putting the glass back down and pushing it towards the senior. - More of a rum guy? - Veronica chimed in. - Thats such a stereotype. - Silver smiled bitterly, just as the waiter came over, putting two glasses at the table. Like a sudden interlude to this drama in three acts, the young waiter from before approached their table with urgent steps and bewilderment growing on his face. - Do forgive me for asking, lady and gentlemen, but where is Heavenly General Daunt? - on his perfectly black tray were the orders for the aforementioned man and his secretary. - Heavenly General Hyena had to suddenly attend an urgent business, Ill take his order. - Veronica said with a smile. - Give me both glasses. With that the waiter placed both the tonic water and whisky in front of the lady who in response winked at him as he was leaving. - Can you not chase tail during matters of state importance? - Marcus tried lecturing her. - Not my fault you get no action, old-timer, sir. - her response was as sharp as always, as if nothing really happened at their table a few moments ago. - Sorry to interrupt your conversation, sir. - Silvers chimed in. - Now that I did as you demanded, may I know what you spiC had put in the wine? The Heavenly General looked him in the eye and smiled, putting a glass of wine to his own pale lips. - A spoonful of nanobots. - the old man suddenly resounded within Winslows skull, startling him slightly. - So that we might have a heart-to-heart about the future of this country. Marcus calmly kept on drinking. - Young lady Blaz vouched for you. Apparently she has been keeping a close eye on your accomplishments. I wondered what piqued her interest in you initially, but your personal history, whatever it was, probably played a part. I trust her judgment, so welcome to the Wine Cellar, our little secret club. - WhC Silvers tried to speak out loud, but Cicada shut him up with one stern glance. - Speak using your mind. We dont want to attract too much attention. Have another drink while youre at it. Its bound to sell our little act. - What is this? How? - Silvers answered with his thoughts, fighting against himself to keep his mouth shut, staring at the old man like an idiot. - No need to stare. - the old man said with his voice, a warm smile plastered on his face. - I know that the aftertaste is out of this world, but believe me, theres still better things yet to come. - Can you hear all my thoughts? - the sailor asked with disbelief. - I could if I so willed, but I believe there wont be a need for that. For now, I can only hear you if you put your intent into it. - Can she? - he glanced towards Blaz, who simply smiled and wiggled the tips of her fingers back at him. - Again, only if you want it. The nanobots are smart little things. Ive been reprogramming and improving them for a few decades now. - What is the meaning of this? Why the secrecy? Are you rebels? - Silvers thoughts went into overdrive, flooding the psychic comms for a second. - Easy there, Admiral. Dont let the panic cloud your thoughts. The effect can be contagious. - the General calmed him down, sliding another glass his way. - And to answer your question, no, we are not rebels. - a chuckle reverberated in Winslows head. - Far from it. - So what am I being pulled into? Tell me! - the man demanded, clutching his fist in frustration. - Saving this godforsaken country. - Cicadas tone got much darker for a moment. - WhC How? This is suspicious, dammit. Does the Emperor know of this? - Care for an entre? Ill take some shrimps, but I bet youre sick of seafood, so Ill let you think. - Cicada juggled the two conversations seamlessly, obviously used to this. Nothing showed on his face. - Yeah, I much prefer this unfiltered Silvers. And no, the Emperor does not know. He needs not know, and probably doesnt want to know. As long as the countrys running, hes content with just sitting back. - Marcus sigh filled the thoughtscape. - Perhaps thats part of the problem - What if I dont want to be a part of this? - Silvers kept pushing back, his stubbornness befitting a sailor. - Well, it would be a real shame, but I cant force you to do anything. - Marcus stretched his shoulders and looked the Admiral in the eyes. - Id like to recommend the canaps. They are excellent with wine - What if I report this to the Emperor anyway? - he grasped at straws at this point, his threat seen as mere struggle by the old man. - I told you already. It wont do you any good, and thats precisely why Id like you to be a part of our little group. Not only would it be your word against mine, so youd stand no chance there, the Emperor would much rather keep to his own devices, so even if you had any ground to stand on, hed take my side out of pure convenience. Its a losing game, really, and a good showcase of why what we are doing is necessary. You have probably noticed, much like anyone with a pair of eyes and at least three brain cells, the Emperor has withdrawn himself from politics and matters of state in these past few years. - the old man took another drawn out sip, his eyes closed in thought. - We are in decline, Admiral, and the Wine Cellar is the only thing keeping this country running. But we cant keep working on the fringes forever. We need decisive action, and soon, if we want to salvage anything. - Why me? - Silvers asked after a brief pause, barely believing what he was hearing. Or perhaps refusing to believe. - Why not General Morena? - Magnus is a force of nature, lets just say. A raging storm, and the howl in the wind. Theres no way to really steer him, as youve already proven by appearing in his place. You can only work around this man, and that unpredictability is something we cannot risk bringing into the Cellar. You, however - Marcus put down an empty glass and smiled, waving over an attendant to order the entres. - You can harness that storm - What? - he asked, genuinely befuddled. - You heard me. Ive read the reports and from what Ive gathered, you are the only thing keeping General Morena in reins. He only ever listens to you, and actively seeks your counsel whenever hes uncertain of what to do next. Thats a lot, considering who were talking about. - Im a mere advisor. - And thats good enough. Moreover, thats exactly what we need. A man with common sense somewhere high up the ladder. Miss Blaz isnt a General, either, but she can influence things just enough to matter. Sometimes more than Id ever expect possible. - What if I refuse anyway? You cant just throw all this information my way and expect me to accept. - the expression on the seamans face looked grim, but he was starting to compose himself. - Ill take the canaps, sure - Then youll be my eyes and ears anyway. Dont worry, I wont infringe on your privacy. The only things that matter to me are of the stately nature. - there was no emotion on the old mans face, but Silvers could tell that there was a note of melancholy in his mental voice. - Care for another glass? Silvers took a deep breath. Today was just a whole rollercoaster of emotions. First he got sent to represent his boss in some boring social event, then he met somebody he thought hed never meet again, and now he was being dragged into a whole lot of trouble. He sighed heavily, considering his options, his hand moving towards his neck without much thought. When his fingertips touched a small thread, he clutched it, then pulled it off his neck. It was a long fiber loop, from which hung a metal ring. It was half gold, half silver, giving an impression that it was two rings melted together. He took it off the line and turned it over in his hand a few times. - Will what you are doing make this country better? For the common folk, I mean. - the sailor asked without looking away from the ring. - Theres nothing Id like more than that. - Marcus answered with resolve. Then I''ll be the wind in your sails. - Silvers matched that resolve, putting the ring on the finger of his left hand. Chapter 16 - Calm Before The Storm Back in a place secure from the prying eyes of the Empire, Dirk managed to finally leave the maze of sterile corridors with his assigned equipment and all of his friends, old and new, in tow. Thankfully, and perhaps contrary to his expectations, none of them got roped up in any needless fights with other mercenaries, or Ouroboros personnel, so everything was going smoothly. But despite the feelings of relief, Dirk also found himself puzzled. Not by his companions, but rather by his surroundings. It hadnt been fifteen minutes since he was in the heart of an underground complex to rival a real Spire-city in size, but just a brief walk and one short elevator ride later, he was now standing at the edge of a massive quarry, bustling with mercenary activity, and with no Imperial presence in sight. He felt the cold air on his face and saw the moon occasionally peek out from behind thick clouds up above. It was indeed a mystery how he got here, and an even bigger one how there were so many tents, trucks and guns in one place out in the open. The Empire would never allow it, unless Ouroboros somehow found a way to circumvent the eternal vigilance of the grid. Dirk was indeed puzzled, and he didnt like it one bit. He much preferred the stone-cold certainty of a battlefield. - Damn! - Barbara was the first to break the silence. - I missed that brisk night air! Thats what youre focusing on? - Dirk fought himself to not say it out loud. - Da, all that regurgitated shit straight from the conditioners felt worse than smoking a pack of unfiltered cigarettes. - Misha agreed with the woman, garnering a smile of approval. Jason and Felicia chose silence, their reasons for it differed. Not wanting to ruin the positive mood with grumbling about trivial things, the veteran opted to instead look around. He tried to find some sort of starting point from which they could begin inspecting this gathering hub. According to what they were told at the armory, at the break of dawn they would hear an announcement, signaling the convoy''s departure. Until then, it was up to each mercs personal discretion how to spend their time. After reporting to their respective units, of course. It didnt take Dirk long to spot an unmarked tent in front of which many mercenaries were converging. Even if their unmarked nature helped Ouroboros deny any involvement in the gathering on the surface level it sure made a mess of finding one''s way around the place. - I think I found the secretary desk. - he exclaimed to the group. - Gonna go do some reconnaissance, what about you guys? - I smell some grade-A catering off in the distance. - the Ruskie said with a wide smile. - Cant meet up with the other members of my illustrious unit on an empty stomach! - Oh shit, really? - the younger sister couldnt hide her excitement at Mishas discovery. - Then I know where Im going. Youll brief us on all the deets once youre finished snooping, wont you, old timer? - Yeah, sure. - Dirk decided to ignore yet another jab at his age. - Miss Rand? - I need to check up on my truck. Dont think it would be below other mercs to scratch its paint job out of boredom. - with that, she began to walk, with a clear destination already in mind. - Ill be relying on you like the rest, Mr. Chernobog. In only a few seconds, just Dirk and Jason remained, with their party split apart. They were alone, even though they were surrounded by a churning ocean of mercs. Nobody paid them any mind as they focused on their own goals and agendas. Thanks to that, Jason could drop the act for a second. And he did so with a hint of release in his voice - Color me surprised. You made friends so easily. - he joked in a hushed tone. - How did you manage to be a drunk recluse for so long? - Bite me. - Dirk started leisurely strolling towards the tent that caught his attention. - That Prusk girl is too friendly for her own good. - Tell me about it. She even tried conversing with me mano a mano during the assessment. There is something seriously wrong with her self-preservation instincts. - Or maybe she simply has a very keen instinct that managed to see right through your impeccable acting. - the older man smirked, rubbing against a frantically running passerby. - Besides, wouldnt it be mano a senora? This at first glance simple run-in yielded him a crumpled up pack of cigarettes. So skillfully pickpocketed from an unassuming stranger. He pulled one out and turned towards his living weapon for a lighter. Even with the gilded helmet on, he could tell the young buck was frowning. - Firstly, you could have asked me for one. Secondly, why did you do that? Thirdly, you dont speak Spanish, so buzz off. - the large man enumerated, audibly not amused, while pulling out a lighter and with a flick of a wrist lighting up Dirks cigarette. - Because he was acting like a dick during Toms presentation. - Chernobog graced only one of the questions with an answer before strolling off. Jason looked in the direction the stranger ran off and to his surprise it was indeed the tank top guy from before. - How did you notice him in the crowd? - Jason asked, running up to the old dog. - How did he not notice you? - Skill and experience. - the smoker responded, letting out a circle-shaped smoke cloud. - That sure says a lot. - a tinge of disappointment permeated the sentence. The younger man regained his posture as they approached the tent. It looked like a typical registration office on some off-road rally or other managed event in the wilderness. Steel tables were connected to form a sort of desk between the employer and the employees, with plastic dividers put in place to ensure that no curious eyes looked directly at what the Ouroboros official was typing, and of course shoddily assembled terminals were also there for data input. On the receiving end of complaints and questions was an oldish looking lady. Dirk could only vaguely judge her age, as her eyes looked young, but the bags under her eyes and stress-induced wrinkles shaped her face into a mask of white-collar torment. Near her, but on the client side of the reception desk stood a pair of Ouroboros security personnel, they were armed to the teeth and worked pretty well as a psychological deterrent, to ensure that no upset soldier-of-fortune would opt to get physical with the receptionist. Without further ado, Chernobog took his place in the queue with Argonaut by the side. They stole a few glances from the other waiting mercs, but that was about it. Everything proceeded like every ordinary bureaucratic process always did - slowly and painstakingly. The queue moved at a snails pace and the Ouroboros people didnt even pretend to care about things like privacy, taking on the mercs complaints one by one out in the open without as much as a curtain to dampen the sound. Dirk heard every possible problem. They ranged from simple complaints about the uniforms being a size or two too small, to missing personal belongings, supposedly confiscated by the company employees. Some people even predictably came in to negotiate bigger payouts, attempts at which were quickly shut down, backed by some pre-rehearsed corpo-speak. Those whose complaints were rejected, more often than not, grunted with discontent. Undeterred, they tried to appeal their cases with more arguments, some more sound than others. Minutes passed, and a trend quickly became clear, pointing Dirk towards a sad, but not unexpected reality, that this whole place was nothing more than a corner to cry in, and not actually a place to get things done. It was the beauty of shoving the managerial class into every step of the organizational ladder made material. Everything got talked about, but nothing got accomplished. Dirk sighed, taking a step forward. It was his turn, and since he lost so much time already waiting, he might as well shoot his shot. Feeling his annoyance, Jason took a few heavy steps, sticking close by Dirks side, making it a point to stare down each guard with just enough bloodlust to put them on edge, but not start a conflict outright. - Easy, boy. Were here to talk. - Dirk spoke to the giant in a calm and composed tone, displaying control of the situation. Despite that, he was just barely able to contain a smile. Intentionally or not, they started the good cop, bad cop routine, with a twist. The bad cop was substituted for a particularly vicious looking K9. - Unit, name or callsign, and your issue. - the desk lady uttered, composed as a rock, clearly unamused by the killing machine baring its teeth at her. Dirk greeted her with a pearly white smile, hidden just beneath his unkempt facial hair. - Scouts. Chernobog. Im here to discuss the details of my deployment. I think my skill set would be better suited for another unit. PreferablyC - Denied. - she cut him off flatly, her eyes scanning a sheet of paper she just pulled out of a thick folder. - May I know why? - Dirk couldnt help but ask, not letting any concern show. - Skilled drivers are in short supply in our current lineup, and at the same time critical to the missions success. - she shuffled through a few more pages, unbothered by Dirks piercing gaze. - By your own declaration, Mister Chernobog, you are a skilled driver, thus your position in the convoy is non-negotiable. Unless you have lied about your skill set to get this job. - she raised an eyebrow, her eyes searching for a hint of weakness. - I see in the report that Mister Holder failed to assess the truthfulness of that statement. - No. any information I provided is indeed true. - Dirk admitted, neither angry nor disappointed with the way she was pressuring him. - Then I consider this matter closed, Mister Chernobog. The Ouroboros company thanks you for your cooperation. Despite her forceful attempt at cutting the discussion short, she made a flawed assessment of the mercenary in question. He might have been quite displeased by the job given to him and agreeing with her put him at a conversational disadvantage. Role the Ouroboros assigned to him was probably set in stone at this point. Whining and pouting about it would solve nothing and help no-one. Hed just have to deal with the cards given. As much as it irked him. Then it was time to change the approach. Different avenues of the attack could yield promising results, information that would be vital down the line. Maybe the lady before him was the one with all the information, making prolonged conversation beneficial only to one party. But there was one thing Dirk had that lady before him lacked. The privilege of a client. - I am sorry for prying but could you elaborate for me on the drivers shortage issue? - he continued. - As far as I can tell, the truck which I am going to be driving is a Taurus, model Effluvium to be exact. Mercenaries hired by Ouroboros company lack driving licenses? She looked up at him and squinted slightly. As if carefully evaluating every word. - The whole production line from that year was kinda funky, alongside Longhorn and Rodeo all the trucks Taurus produced had very obtusely shifting gears and visibility from the cab was shit. - Dirk continued with a warm smile. - But I am pretty sure in todays day and age most adult men and women can manage getting a machine like that from point A to point B. Lady said nothing. But her fingers stopped typing on the keyboard. - Maybe I came off wrong. - the old vet continued the approach. - Im not here to demand that you change my position, Miss. I sure as hell understand from my previous profession that the paperwork required to request new bullpup pens for your desk would take at least three weeks. - for the first time since Dirk took his spot in a line, Miss desk jockey smiled. - Changing an assigned position for a temporary employee a few hours before their shift is something way outside of the scope of your pay bracket. - Youve got that right. - she responded, briefly letting her guard down. - What I wanted was a simple explanation and form to fill out, so I can potentially take it up the chain in a week or few. As I simply think my vast experience and array of skills could benefit the project better if my position was adjusted. Could you help me? Could you help me - such a simple phrase, yet a key to so many doors. Looking at how long their conversion was taking, other mercs behind Chernobog were getting a bit restless. But none of them really dared to speak up, as Jason turned around, staring them down while his owner conversed. Inadvertently retaining order in front of the booth much more efficiently than two Ouroboros goons ever did. Lady behind the desk exhaled, her door successfully opened. Dirk knew that sound. It was a long held breath carrying way too many hours of overtime on a way too miniscule pay increase. His ex used to look and sound the same after a night shift at the Central Command. Painful side effects of not fulfilling oneself at your day-to-day work. - Listen, mister. - she started, her voice much more human now. - I can give you a form 45a, its a personnel indefinite transition form. - with that she reached for another file, this one much more robust than before. - Youll just need to fill pages 2, 3 and 6, all the others apply to official Ouroboros employees. With that, she placed a bundle of papers on the desk, stitched together with two paper clips. Turned it around towards Dirk and proceeded to show him exactly what to sign and where. Guiding him through the process like one would a child. It took quite a bit, but once done the old soldier knew exactly what to fill, where to give the file back and what all the bureaucratic jargon actually meant. - Thank you. - Chernobog said another magic word, a balm for every blue-collar worker in the world. - Youre very good at explaining this whole corpo-speak, Miss. - Too bad that not many are willing to listen like you do, Mister Chernobog. - she smiled again, this time more genuinely. - If you have any more questions, you know where to find me. Ill be sitting in the same place during each checkpoint of our journey. - I wouldnt like to take up too much of your time. - Oh no, I insist. Her response left Dirk a bit confused. But he got the message, aptly reinforced by the desk ladys stern look. - Then Ill finish up this form and come to you for a second-hand assessment of its content during convoys first checkpoint. - the old soldier straightened up, putting the file in the company''s given backpack. - Ill bring some coffee with me. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.- Ill hold you to that. Make it extra strong. - she responded, seeing him off. After that surprisingly fruitful altercation, The God of War proceeded towards the canteen with Argonaut in tow. Maybe he didnt get the info he wanted right now, but now outside of Tom, he had another source of breadcrumbs from Ouroboros corporation plate. - I didnt know you had such a game. - Argonaut whispered. - Boggles the mind. - Youll be surprised how far simple human decency will get you in working class circles. - Dirk answered, ostentatiously. - Still, you forgot to ask her name. Dirk fell silent. - Shit. - Whats with you and ladies working logistics? Is that your type? - Jason snorted quietly. - What type? She needed affirmation and I needed information. Our interaction was purely transactional. - Dirk vehemently denied any interest, scanning around to appear busy. Jason chuckled under his mask, then tensed up, returning to his role as they approached the mess hall. All things considered, it was a nice gesture from Ouroboros to feed their fresh hires even before any work got done. Building a positive rapport so soon almost felt uncharacteristic of a big corporation. - Tell me if you smell anything funny in the food. - Dirk told Jason as he stretched his arm, already preparing for any nonsense Misha had the time to stir up. Whenever food or drinks were involved, that man never failed to make trouble. - What am I? A drug dog? - Jason hissed back extra quietly as they passed a few people. - You cant do that? - Obviously I can. So what should I look out for? - Well, they are a pharmaceutical company. Everythings on the table. - Great. - the giant scoffed, stretching his neck with frustration just a bit. With that, they moved quickly, the sounds of a commotion already reaching their ears. People hooted and hollered, some laughed, while others mocked viciously. Among the voices, Mishas stood out like a sore thumb. They approached a massive tent from which warm light spilled out onto the dark dirt under their feet. That light along with the rowdy sounds felt weirdly welcoming, yet Dirk moved with haste, unaffected by the cozy spell. Managing to squeeze by a couple of rough looking mercs, Dirk had a quick look around the place. The floor was simply dirt, packed tight by moving feet. Now it was rumbling as a small circle of people rhythmically stomped their feet in excitement. The walls and roof were being held up by a rather thick steel frame, around which black cables coiled like snakes, leading to exposed light bulbs here and there. It looked rough. Almost homely, and almost certainly not within company regulations, whatever those might have been. - Davay, davay! - a familiar voice pierced through the chatter like a knife through butter, urging now increasingly curious Dirk to proceed. - Im gonna crush you, you red scum! - a strained, laborious voice answered with fury dripping from each syllable. - Well see about that, buddy! A brawl already? - Dirk sighed, not really that surprised. Misha liked dishing out punishment to those he deemed interesting, almost as much as he liked his alcohol, and this place was bound to have at least a few worthy opponents. Still, it was bad manners to say the least to start shit where people ate. Chernobog shook his head and shoved his way into the circle to get a look at how things were going. He had no doubt concerning what was going on, his curiosity only urging him to find out how hard Misha was winning. It was thus a huge surprise when he saw not a fistfight, but an arm-wrestling match in progress, and an evenly matched one, too. Misha was up against a young man roughly his size, but with arms that looked like they could break an average man in half. His muscles looked hard as rock and his bulging veins lent him a particularly threatening look. His muscles, however, seemed to be mostly about presentation than substance, as the Russian held his ground against the destructive force of a bodybuilder in action. As Dirk took his place among the spectators, arms crossed, he saw Morozov catch a glimpse of him, and a smile entered the Russians face. - Come on, Red! I bet on you, dont let me down! - another familiar voice reached Dirk from the side. He snapped his head there and saw Barbara in the thick of the crowd, stomping her feet twice as hard as everybody else. - Dont worry, devochka, Im just having fun. - Misha called back, a single drop of sweat dripping from his brow onto the table. Dirk only now realized that they were wrestling amidst full plates of steaming food. - Oh? You too? - the well-built but plain looking lad asked with wild satisfaction on his face. He, too, was sweating. - Da. Whats your name? - Want to know whos going to kick your ass in a second? - I gotta know whose family Ill be sending my condolences to. - Ha! - the man howled out a laugh. - Ted. Ted Lance! - Misha Morozov. You better remember it! With that the game was on and as one, both men pushed with all they had. The table shook, and the plates clattered as two unstoppable forces clashed amidst mashed potatoes. For every bit of leverage one man gained, the other made it up twofold, resulting in a dynamic back-and-forth between the two. But their duel had to end sooner or later, and Misha was in no mood to lose today. Straining his arm like he hadnt in ages, he pushed, paying special attention to his elbow, careful not to lose his steady footing, and just when it seemed like his hand was about to hit the deck, he fought back and in one explosive push slammed his opponents hand into the plate of meat and gravy, spraying those in the audience unfortunate enough to be standing to close. - Argh! - the plain one growled in frustration, slamming his other fist on the table, though he was obviously holding back. If he hadnt, there probably would not have been a table anymore. - Damn it! - A good one, malchik! - Misha said, shaking his pained hand, not even bothering to act tough as he usually did. An act of respect, if anything. The crowd both cheered and booed in equal measure, obviously signifying a large transfer of cash and valuables between the mercs. The heap of muscles took his loss with unexpected grace, though, licking his arm clean of the gravy with an expression of both frustration, but also satisfaction. There were more wrestling duels to come between the two, thats for sure. He wiped what he couldnt reach with his tongue using a napkin and shook on it with the old Russian, his eyes gleaming with newfound respect, while Morozov was just having the time of his life. - Found a new friend? - Chernobog approached the pair as the crowd started to disperse. Ted scoffed in response. - Who the fuck are you? - A good friend of mine, his names Chernobog. - Misha explained. - Still, cant say yet, what do you think, bratuha? - Ruskie turned towards the loser of their duel. - Dont make me laugh. We aint on a fucking picnic, old man. - with that he let go of Mishas hand. - You found yourself a rival, so watch your ass. Because on the next stop youll be the one kissing the ground. - Harasho! Thats the spirit! Ill hold you to that. With that Ted picked something up from the ground, a bolt-action rifle. After throwing it over the shoulder he started walking away. - Oi! - the winner of their scuffle called out to him for the last time. - 3rd Team, which ones yours? - Scouts. Dont you forget it! - with that he pushed through the crowd, disappearing between upset gamblers. That upset was quite palpable as many people who scattered were shooting glances towards Morozov, memorizing his sunken mug as the one which caused them to lose money. In a gathering full of materialistic people it wasnt a healthy stamp to carry on ones head. But it wasnt all doom and gloom, after all, Dirk managed to memorize a member of his squad without playing any card in his hand. - You cant just keep your head down, can you? - Dirk shook his head, approaching his friend. - Ha! Look whos talking, Mr. Last to Finish the Evaluation. Maybe you arent aware, but you have become the lowest hanging gossip-fruit in the convoy. - the Russian sat down, grabbed the spork and continued eating what was left of the food on the plastic platter. - Some know your face, some just the name, but renown truly sticks to you. Misha chomped on a piece of meat and grinned. It was the face of a man who was relishing in all those little plans of theirs going south. An agent of chaos if nothing else. - Like stink on shit. - Now, now, dont choke on all that vitriol. - Dirk smiled and sat across from him. - Guess it means Ill have to alter my plans a bit. - Oh? How exactly? - In a way very close to how your glorious motherland used to do it. Ill just use the renown to keep people around me in check. - The Vanguard unit. - Exactly. - Great plan and all malchik, but the news spreading about you arent the helpful kind. - the Russian took a pause to chew. - They make you sound like a slacker or a wimp at best. What can you do with that? - Curses and blessings are two sides of the same coin. - Chto? After these words, the old soldier planted both his elbows on the table, leaning forward and cradling hands under his nose with a calculating look in his eyes. - Tell me Misha if you heard about a guy taking an exam, and he finished dead last with no time to spare, would that put him in a bad light? - Da, I just said it. - What if you saw that same guy finish it with one hand, holding a rabid dog on a leash with the other, and he still passed? - Rabid dogC Then the Russian''s eyes lit up. Finally catching up, he glanced over to the gilded giant behind Chernobog. - You might wonder what exactly happened during that examination, but you can never be sure. For all you know, I could have cured cancer right there and then. Whos to say what did or didnt happen? No one. - Peoples imagination will run wild, blyat. - Misha added, being on the same page as the speaker. - Exactly. So all I need to do is let the gossip stir and have Jason follow me around wherever I go, which was part of the plan anyway. - Damn, youre quite devious, old man. - Barbara commented, sitting down next to Chernobog. With her, she brought two trays with steaming-hot food. Same type of gruel as Red Mill was currently finishing. A bowl of watered down goulash, some potatoes mashed into a fine paste, and a few measly slices of cucumber. One tray she pushed towards Dirk, leaving the other beside herself, turning around towards the Argonaut. She smiled at him and patted the bench next to her. - Thanks Prusk, but Argonaut doesnt eat in the open like that. - Chernobog said, grabbing his own appointed spork. - Why not? Hes a big boy, right? Hes gotta eat. - Of course, but he gets quite territorial during lunchtime. - he started explaining, his voice curiously a bit louder than usual. - If some unfortunate soul were to interrupt him well, it doesnt take a genius to imagine what happens when you interrupt a feasting wolf. Barbara was a bit confused by that explanation, but his long-time friend couldnt help but chuckle. It was all so stupidly childish, but the simpler the plan, the higher the chance of its success when youre dealing with simpletons. - So what, you want the food to go cold? - she looked quite distraught about it. - No, just give it to me, Argonaut will eat later. - Nah, no way! - she pushed the tray slightly away from Dirk, shielding it with one arm like a child afraid of somebody taking away their favorite toy. - Youre not getting two. Im not waiting for your fat ass if you lag behind in the snow. - Fat? - the old soldier almost flinched with surprise, his eyes quickly blinking a couple of times like a shutter of a camera. - Were driving anyway, little lady. - Morozov cut in, his plate already licked clean. - Now, hold on, whos little? - Barbara straightened her back with irritation, clearly not seeing the irony of the situation. - Look who suddenly got all defensive after taking pot shots at a senior. - Dirk scoffed, leaning forward to prop his bearded chin, which obscured his mischievous smile quite efficiently. - Well, you already seem to have some flab under that jacket, so that area won''t get fatter anytime soon. Your "bumper" is a different matter. - she stated. - But me? Have you seen these guns? - the armored suit pilot flexed her right biceps ostentatiously. - I''m way above the female median, both in height and musculature. - And yet youre a head shorter than him. - Dirk pointed towards the Russian with his thumb. - Da, youre like a child to me. Malenki rybionek. - Misha teased, sensing the direction in which the conversation was going. - Dont get coy with me, Red. - she barked at him. - Chernobog looks like a hobo-shaped barrel. - Oof. Blunt. - Morozov scrunched up his face in mock pain and immediately looked towards Dirk with an expectant gaze. - And an apt comparison to boot. - My looks are irrelevant. - he shot back, his tone suddenly stern. - Lets remember that I got hired based on my skills, and in a combat situation, only they matter. - Well see how useful those skills will be when that hobo-mane gets into your eyes during a fire-fight. - I dont need to see my target to know where to shoot. - he stated, head full of pride. - Okay, mister Shaolin monk. Can you survive for a month only on a drop of water, too? Cuz Im seriously considering taking back that food. - she huffed. - Why are you even getting angry with me? You started this. - Dirk shrugged, giving Morozov a knowing smirk which he promptly returned. - Its true, though. At least pull the hair back. - she puffed, then stuffed her face with mashed potatoes. - You could use a haircut, now that I think about it. - Morozov decided that today no one would be safe from his ribbing as he rubbed his chin in mock-contemplation. - Says the hair expert. - Dirk quipped back with a scoff. - Sheathe your blade, Brutus. Thats enough of this nonsense. - he tipped his head to the side, letting Misha know that something was up. - Shame. It was just getting good. - he sighed, discreetly looking towards the source of his friends concern, and saw an unassuming hooded figure two tables over, slowly eating what looked like a bun. It was just another faceless person in the crowd, but that was perhaps what gave them away. Too normal. Too invisible in a colorful sea of brawlers and other hired guns. As if on cue, exactly eleven seconds after Dirk noticed them, they took the last two bites of their meal, got up and left without drawing any attention. The only thing that really stood out about them was the composite bow on their back. - Your fan? - the Russian lifted one eyebrow. - Dunno. Havent seen them before. - Good eye, though. I didnt notice. - Notice what? What are you talking about? - Barbara inserted herself into the conversation. - Were getting scoped out. Maybe as teammates, maybe as competition. - Dirk announced, slowly lifting a sporkful of his food to give it a sniff, and consulting Jason on its safety with a single glance. The giants lack of reaction was a sign that the food was safe to eat, and the man ate it up. It was bland, but in a way, pretty comforting. It reminded him how he used to eat in the military cafeteria every day in his early days because it was free. He was just starting out then, and even the worst army slop tasted like heaven as long as it was hot. Dirk smiled a genuine smile as he chomped down on another bite, a fact which didnt go unnoticed by Misha. - I didnt know getting a secret admirer would put you in such a good mood. - the Russian snickered. - If I knew, I would have made my presence known sooner. - then went into a full-blown cackle. - Oh, fuck off. Chapter 17 - Art of Introduction With their meals finished and spirits heightened, the trio of mercenaries left the vicinity of the mess-tent. Before leaving, Chernobog managed to persuade the machine distributing the food to package an extra portion to-go. With that he expanded the amount of his baggage by an addition of a plastic grocery bag with a large Ouroboros logo on it. Probably from one of their private pharmacies. - the veteran thought, before focusing attention on Misha, who suddenly took a hard right, splintering off their group. - Thats enough lollygagging for now, ribiata. - ruskie declared, stretching. - Gotta go to my own unit, check if your older sister isnt getting bullied by some gopniks. - Appreciated, Red. - Barbara smiled with a slight nod. - Just dont injure half of the Guardian Team before departure. - Dirk bid his friend adieu with a half-serious remark. - No promises. With that he left, mischievous spring in his step. Leaving the remaining male side of their group somewhat worried. As their march resumed, Barbara elbowed the former god of war slightly. - Do you have some plan to garner instant respect from our comrades? - her question was genuine. - Some psychological trick used by fossils like you? - Of course. I intend to order Argonaut to fill the sides of our path with wooden stakes on which all my dead enemies will be presented, announcing the ruthlessness and cruelty of my profession before everyone gathered. Saying all that with a straight face took skill, and around halfway through Dirks speech, it reached the desired effect - Barbaras losing any and all interest in what he was saying and her deciding to keep to herself. Just like he wanted. Stupid questions should only be answered in an equally stupid manner. Still, it was entirely her fault for not cluing in on what the two old soldiers were discussing at the table. As positive and upbeat as she was, Dirk hoped she turned into a completely different person on the battlefield because if not He refused to finish that train of thought, as a pit started forming in his stomach. The former candidate for the Heavenly General seat would keep them all safe, not only to spite Tom, but to prove something to himself. Or rather, to that final ember of doubt within himself - that he still got it. But it wasnt the time to be getting sentimental, he had to get his groove on. - Prusk. - a single word, stern yet polite. - Yeah, yeah, you arent old, you''re vintage. - she responded to a tangent that must have formed in her head in the meantime. - Do you have a piece of string on you? - String? What for? Something between your teeth? - No. For my hair, to tie it up. - Shit, did I hear that right? - Miss Prusk suddenly perked up, with glittering eyes. - Am I finally getting through your thick skull? - Do you have it or not? - the old soldiers masculine soul screamed at him to speed the process up. - If not, Ill just use the piece of wire within the backpackC - Are you dull?! - the female mercs sudden scream caused Jason to jerk a bit. Without waiting for any response, she grabbed Dirk by the shoulder and turned him around. The old dog had to forcibly keep his impulses in check, so as not to break her arm on sheer instinct. Albeit, even with his reflexes allowing him to easily react and follow Barbaras movement, the force which she exerted to move him was nothing to scoff at. Even if their crew already had their brawn quota covered five times over by a certain tall kid, Prusk was taking the second spot in that department. Back in the real world, the lady presiding above the female median reached into the inner pocket of her leather jacket. With quick motions she scooped up the wild mane on top of Dirks head and, holding it with one hand, she spread something between the fingers of the other. - There, much better. - her joy was palpable. - It would look much better if I had a brush on me- - Thats enough. - Dirk cut her short, turning around. - Thank you, but I wanted you to give me something to tie my hair, not take care of it for me. - Learn to accept help without being a grump, soldier-boy. He wanted to tell her something about adult behavior, their surroundings, infantilization and whatnot, but decided against it. Making an educated guess that it would all go through one ear and out the other. Now free from the grasp of the female Hercules, Dirk inspected his new hairstyle, with the help of a nearby windshield. It was a ponytail, pulled backwards but loosely enough to not stretch out hair on top of his head. Despite multiple wrinkles and barely visible scars, the man in the mirror looked barely above 40 years of age. The old soldier never cared about such banal things, but his hairstyle made him look surprisingly younger. - It would look much better if you washed that mane of yours, used some conditioner, cut the beard... - Barbara started showing a more feminine side of her personality. - Paint my nails while Im at it? - unfortunately, Chernobog wasnt receptive to such advice. - Sorry, I forgot that back in your day, men who took care of themselves were seen as less. - she scoffed. - All you need is natural musk and the odor of cigarettes, right? - No. I just dont need to stick out like a sore thumb when killing people, thats simple amateurish behavior. - Oh. Really? - Hygiene is important for a soldier, dont mistake my negligence for laziness. - I know you wanted to sound profound, but what you said is a "nothingburger". - Prusks eyes conveyed that she was not impressed with his oratory skills. - Negligence is laziness. - What did you use to tie my hair? Dirk skillfully changed topics, as continuing the previous one held no merit in his personal opinion. Ignoring how rude it was to do so. - A scrunchie. - the mech pilot said. It was an incomprehensible word to the soldier before her. Merely the sound of it made him turn around towards her with a raised eyebrow, now much more visible than before with all the hair out of the way - Dont tell me you dont know what a scrunchie is? Dirk refused to respond. So she exhaled heavily, raising her hand towards her face before stopping mid-way. - Sorry, forgot about the age disparity. - despite her visible disappointment, she decided not to dwell on it and educate the man instead. - Its a type of hair tie, popular among the fair sex. Elastic, covered with a colorful fabric, dont worry yours is dark so it wont be sticking out of your mane too much. - Mhm, sure. - as she was explaining, the soldier was using one of his hands to feel out the item described. - You can keep it. Ive got more in my personal luggage. - I dont think I want to. - Now, now, dont look the gift horse in the mouth, old man. - with that, she patted him on the shoulder. Not wanting to be needlessly ungrateful, Chernobog relented, agreeing to receive the scrunchie as a gift from a new teammate. With that, they started walking again, as the area where the rest of the Scout Team resided was looming on the horizon. It was easy enough to notice, as the gathering spots for each team were carefully selected and described in the file given to each mercenary during the onboarding. Even without those, one would have to be especially dim to not notice the large banners with a single number written on each - corresponding to each squad''s position in the convoys lineup. Approaching the large banner, the former leader of the Empire''s special forces saw two large trucks and around them a small crowd of people. All armed, but with different hardware. He was looking for a specific piece among them, one that would stick out like a sore thumb. But it was nowhere to be seen, at a glance at least. So he moved on to the main issue at hand, lightly elbowing Jason in the hip. The latter emitted a very low grumble in response. It was time to start the show. With one hand still holding a plastic bag he decided to hide the other inside his pocket, willingly becoming defenseless, enforcing the faith he was putting into the creature beside him. Whether other mercs reached the same conclusions remained to be seen, but their approach at the very least garnered attention. While Jason made a good show of himself, growling and snapping his head towards anybody even remotely in the way of his master, Dirk took in the sight of one of the trucks with a smidgen of curiosity and apprehension. It was large. Perhaps too large to be considered viable for a scouting position in the convoy, being at least a meter or so wider than a standard truck, its blueprint - a weird mix of a heavy-duty dump truck, a military transporter and a bus. Under the black, reinforced sheets of metal, the protruding front of the machine no doubt concealed a powerful engine fit to traverse the unforgiving Russian wasteland, while its enormous wheels looked like they were taken straight from a construction vehicle, both menacing and durable. The cab on top, reachable by a ladder on the machines side, looked sturdy enough, with retractable steel panels, double-layered with blinders protected by, what Dirk could only assume, were bullet-proof windshields and windows. The design connected smoothly to the back compartment through a joint covered in an insulated, protective bellow. Dirk wanted to groan, but thought better of it. It was an obvious structural weakness that was bound to bite his unit in the ass, he could already imagine it. The back compartment looked like a black, elongated cargo container with the Ouroboros logo sprayed onto its side in pearly, almost luminescent white. Dirk could spot a few MG ports lining the walls of this glorified metal coffin, and a little fortified nest on its roof, probably to serve as a convenient lookout and sniping position. It was bad. Experimental, some could say, but at this point Dirk could only grit his teeth and power through. Hed worked in worse conditions, that much was true. Much worse, in fact, so having anything at all to serve as a mobile base was at the very least workable. Still, despite his best efforts to keep a poker face, some of his discontent must have shown through, because somebody spoke to him, unfazed by Jasons intimidation. - Its our camper. - a man with a sizable beer gut said to him, his blue eyes shining brilliantly in the artificial lights, almost as brightly as the bald top of his head. The brave man was sitting atop a small metal crate, fiddling with a small, but pristine looking hunting rifle with some dexterity. His brown bushy beard parting in the middle to reveal an imperfect smile, missing a single upper front tooth. He seemed to be in a good mood, despite Jason sending him a piercing death glare. The young regenerators killing intent, however, seemed to be completely ineffective against the man. Dirk raised an eyebrow, but took the bait. - Camper? Doesnt look like one to me. Ive been out of the loop for a few years, though, so I might be wrong. - he scoffed with a bit of sarcasm. - Well, thats the first thing that came to my mind when I saw it. I saw you eyeballing it too, and with a sour face to boot. - he chuckled, wiping the muzzle of his rifle with a cloth. - Thats my neutral expression. - Dirk quipped back, deadpan. - Im sorry, then. For assuming, not your face. - he nodded with a smile. - But hey, the other ones looking a bit more professional, if that will ease your worries. - he added, going right back to the premise that Dirk was worried. - We work with what we are given. It was part of the deal. - Dirk answered matter-of-factly. - You all say that, but I know your type. - Excuse me? - that ticked Dirk off, somehow. - My type? - I can see it in your eyes. That discontent. - I think you are seeing things. Must be the food they served. - he shook his head, ready to abandon this whole conversation and head off. - I have an eye for those things, trust me. Cant go far without it in the biz. - Of killing people? - a shot in the dark. - Close, but not quite. Of supplying people who kill. The difference is pure semantics, though, so I guess I can give you at least half a point. - So a manufacturer? - Dirk guessed again, his eyes now laser focused on every meticulous move of the mans hands as he worked on the gun. - Sometimes, if they paid me enough. But we can sit here guessing all day. How about a trade? - I dont need a gun. Ive got the big guy. - Dirk nodded his head towards the huffing colossus, now louder and more menacing than ever. Jason was really putting on his A-game in the acting department. - Yeah, I can see that. Heard the stories, too, about how you guys finished dead last. - The man smirked, but it didnt feel mocking in any way. - We all have our tempo, I suppose. What matters is that you got in. - It wasnt easy wrangling him once his bloodlust kicked in. - Dirk tried to throw in a little offhand comment, but it didnt seem to take with the man, his expression unbothered as could be. - Well, youre doing just fine now, and thats what matters to me. But taking a step back in our little talk, I wasnt talking about weapons trade, not yet at least. I wanted to exchange information. Your profession for mine, how does that sound? - the man said, a spark of curiosity glistening in his eye. - Doesnt sound like a good deal to me. You practically gave your answer to me for free. At this point, I could probably just guess in three tries or less. Besides, its of no concern to me, as long as this unit works as intended. - True that. - the man nodded, not really specifying which part he was referring to. He checked the chamber of his gun, and once sure it was empty, aimed down the sight, pointing the barrel right at Jason, prompting him to growl. - Easy there, boy. - Dirk took the chance to flash the leash on his wrist for just a split second. - I wasnt expecting to strike a big deal right out of the gate. - he mouthed a bang and put the gun down with a quiet chuckle. - How about we start small, then. Names Michael. Michael Becker. - he extended a hand. - Chernobog. - Dirk answered, ready to reciprocate, but before they could meet midway, Michael stood up and energetically grabbed his hand and shook it. - Good enough. Let our cooperation be long and fruitful. - he smiled For a corpulent man such as him, Michael sure had a strong grasp. Dirk took a mental note of that, amongst other things. - If you do have a gun that needs maintenance or modding, Im your guy, so just drop it off at my lap and Ill do some magic. - Michael announced louder than necessary. Seemed like Dirk and Jason werent the only ones who wanted to make their positions clear to the rest of the group. - Yeah, right. Ive seen you work that hunk of junk you call a rifle. Id sooner twist my balls off than trust you with my gear, chubby. - an unknown voice cut in from behind Dirk, making him turn around. If, according to Barbara and Misha, Dirk looked like a hobo, then the man to whom the new voice belonged might just make them reconsider their statement. He was old, withered and shriveled. His clothing, despite their visible quality, looked as if they came straight from a wardrobe after decades of disuse without any maintenance or cleaning. Those patchwork garments were like a thick hide, bleak and scarred, yet a part of him that refused to fall apart. From underneath the brim of the hat peered two emeralds, seething with hatred. - Oh, here he goes. - Michael whispered, not even wanting to look the interloper in the face. - Just looking at the shitty job youre doing makes me want to retch. Who the fuck gave a gun license to someone like you? - at closer inspection, the unnamed individual didn''t simply seem washed up. To put it more aptly, he was like the very personification of the passage of time. Decay on two rickety legs. - That rude gentleman is Black. - the armament supplier explained to Dirk. - Another member of our squad, unfortunately. - What are you yapping out my name for, we arent friends, you half-baked salesman! - the man in question took great offense to that introduction. - I introduce myself to people who are worthy of my god-damn time, it is my decision to make, not yours. - If I am a merchant, then he is a rusty assembly line of the gun-toting world. - You bastard! Despite his anger and upset, the old man carefully inspected Chernobog from head to toe, then did the same to growling Argonaut, before walking up to them. At first glance, Blacks step appeared shaky, but Dirk could see through the charade instantly. That walk wasnt caused by age, but by the tug of the large and heavy duffle bag which hung from his back, just slightly off-center. With every sway, the bag made quite a metallic racket. It didn''t take a genius to take a guess as to what was inside, considering the circumstances, but the description Michael gave Dirk pointed towards all but the obvious answer. Guns. Loads of them. Black extended his hand towards Dirk, but unlike the previous merc who treated the growling Jason as not much more than air, this one actively tried to stare the mighty beast down, despite the regenerator''s feral act. Their stare down lasted a few more seconds than it should, cut short only by the beast-owners reciprocation of the customary pleasantries. - Black, as the dullard said. - when not used for screaming out insults, the color-coded mercenarys voice sounded frail but melodic, like wind passing through a faulty instrument. - Unlike that fraud Im a real gunsmith, if you need anything dont be a stranger. - W- Chernobog couldnt even get a word out as the fossil before him raised a finger towards his scarf-covered lips. - Partially to spite the larder, but also because the moment I laid my eyes on you in the canteen I could tell... He let go of the handshake and whispered. - You know how to handle a good gun, I can smell it. Well get along. With that, he turned around and walked away. Two and a half men watched him hobble into another one of the trucks assigned to the Scout Squad, this one looking much more ordinary than the fruit of engineering malpractice Dirk inspected a few minutes ago. - What a weird old coot. - Barbara made herself known, appearing near her new colleague during the whole commotion. - You can say that again, young lady. - the gun merchant shook his head from side to side. - Ha! Young lady! Why arent you that polite to me, Chernobog? - she joked innocently, oblivious to the fact she was getting in Dirk''s way. Her poorly timed appearance and jovial attitude towards him was bound to clash with the image he wanted to create of himself for the other mercs. - So you know each other? - Yep, went and attempted the practical test together with two other guys. - lass oversimplified. The flattery put her in high enough spirits to smile widely while speaking. - Names Prusk, whats yours? - Michael Becker, all the other deets you can ask your friend, repeating oneself is bad for the jaw muscles. Outta curiosity, that surname of yours rings a bell. - he stroked his chin. - Is that private car transporter, perchance, yours? The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The young woman''s eyes opened widely, looking towards Chernobog for some type of assurance on a topic he had no prior knowledge of. - Howd ya know that? - the pilot leaned in, half-whispering in an almost comically conspiratorial tone. - One of the Ouroboros boys drove it up to us a couple of minutes ago, asking for you by name. - Michaels thumb pointed towards an arbitrary point somewhere behind him. - Since you werent there, he parked it a quarter of a click behind the junker. Told me to give you the keys once you show up. With that being said, Mr. Becker rummaged for a while within his back pocket before pulling out a key-ring. There was nothing special about the keys themselves, but something else there certainly caught the eye. A small lizard-shaped keychain toy, made entirely of beads. It had a black coat with a red underbelly and a pair of red eyes. - Nice gecko. - Michael commented, passing off the keys. - My big sis made it, its a crocodile. - Barbara fondled the creature in question with her thumb. - Shes amazing. - Guess Ill finally get to see your pride and joy. - Dirk inserted himself back into the conversation, as derailed as it was. - Yeah, Ill finally be able to get a breather from this whole ruckus. All this walking on foot and interacting with all of you is cool - she shuddered. - But I prefer doing that from within the comfort of a 300 mm thick titanium plated cockpit. Not waiting for any company, she started joyfully skipping towards the previously mentioned direction. - Shouldnt you join her? - Shes a big girl. - Thats an understatement. Both men chuckled slightly. Dirk pointed towards the high caliber ammo box, situated next to the metal crate on which the husky gun enthusiasts resided. With a wide arm motion, Micheal gave the old veteran his sitting approval, and soon they shared a smoke. One stolen from a certain tank-top wearing individual. - So. - the openly friendly fellow took charge of the conversation. - So? - in the meantime, Chernobog continued inspecting the gathering point of his squad. He was actively trying his best to memorize the faces of those that didnt approach him for introductions and making mental notes of their gear. - Just because you didnt want to share your profession with me doesnt mean Ill let you off the hook that easily. - Becker showed off his pearly whites. - I am quite a curious guy. - No one ever told you that curiosity killed the cat? - the more unkempt of the two tried to change the topic of their upcoming conversation - Then it''s good for me that Im just a plump Homo sapiens instead. - to no avail. - Fine. Ill play your game. - Chernobog decided to take the bait. - Music to my ears. After all, he also was quite fond of information, a solid bedrock of data never hurt anyone. On the contrary, it could only help him. - So what are the rules of this exchange? - Dirk asked, approaching the subject with a soldierly callousness. - Rules - Michael rubbed his beard in thought. - One party says something about themselves and the other just has to share accordingly. - Thats rather limiting. - The answers dont have to be true. - the round man shrugged with a good-natured chuckle. - If you dont feel like answering truthfully, just make something up. I simply want you to talk. - So whats the point? - On my side? I just like conversing. Hearing peoples voices really makes my mind click, especially when things are stressful. Aside from Blacks. His voice is like nails on a blackboard to me. - he sighed, shaking his head lightly. - Anyway, I can start, then we can swap. Ill say something about myself and youC - Sorry, but I still dont see the point. - Dirk interrupted with a raised hand. Not that he wanted to be rude. He just didnt want the man to waste his breath. Michael pouted slightly, which was hard to see under his beard, then stretched a little in place. - Given enough time, truth always comes out. Doubly so in such a cramped space with so few people. - he nodded towards the big truck. - A little game like this might help you judge their character, then. Why did they lie? What about? What was the lie, and was there a seed of truth in there. - he took out a small candy bar out of his pocket and started munching, swallowing before speaking so as not to be disrespectful. - Some of my most successful partnerships were built on utter lies, but lasted forever. Others, the truthful ones, didnt last a day. We all have our reasons to lie, and I like to think of myself as the liars advocate. Dirk had to think about it for a second. He never really thought about peoples motivations for lying this deeply. You either told the truth or lied, and that was that. A conversational tool to manipulate the flow of information to best suit ones interest. There wasnt much to judge once the truth ultimately came out. There were simply adjustments to be done. He straightened his back, looking deeper into the mans eyes. - We dont have to be truthful, you say? - Dirk wanted to confirm, the very premise of this conversation was a weird anomaly in his head. - Not a lick of it. - Michael smiled a smile only a seasoned salesman could muster and finished his candy. - Alright. Im game. You were going to start? - the ball was already in play. It was simply good manners to let it roll. - Indeed I was. - despite quite a bit of trash littering the ground already, Michael stuffed the candy wrapping deep into his pocket. - Hmm. Something easy. Something small How about this? I was born in Old Britain in the town of Sevenoaks. - An Anglo, huh? Couldnt tell from the accent. - I just dont have one. - And the Imperial border guard just let you in? - It pays off to keep a good network of contacts all around the world. Knowing people who know other people will often open up many doors in life. Mind you, it was neither easy nor cheap to step foot on Empire-controlled land, but Im sure the profit at the end of this little excursion will more than make up for it But Im babbling. How about you? Dirk considered his options. The man before him didnt show any obvious signs of lying, but the information he gave wasnt critical either. Dirk would start off with a truth. Sort of. - I was born on Imperial soil, a little ways off from the capital in a small rural village. I dont even remember the name anymore, but it doesnt matter. It was probably converted into a factory town or an agricultural complex decades ago. - Dirks tone was flat. - Interesting. Its not too uncommon to meet other Imperials here, but I must say that the people here who got hired are way more diverse than that. Makes you wonder if some of them got headhunted specifically for this mission. - I know I wasnt. Were you? - the subject certainly was an interesting one. Dirk never asked his brother how exactly he got the details of the recruitment process, but it probably wasnt just there, out in the open. - I got the info in a trade as a bonus from a trustworthy client in exchange for a particularly punchy gun. I say they lost out in that exchange, considering the payout, but we will see. - Care to share the model? - Wanting to get a freebie out of me, huh? - the man chuckled and patted Dirk on the shoulder. - Nice try, but Im not falling for that. Client confidentiality and all. Still, you will know instantly who they are and what theyre shooting if you get to see them in action. What the man was saying was ironic, considering how much free information he was sprinkling in, but Dirk was not about to complain. - Fair enough. Your turn. - Now that were past the foreplay I say we can get down and dirty. - the weight of the conversation suddenly shifted. - Personally I think that the current world we live in is as corrupt as it comes. If historians were to ever look at the era encompassing our life from the far-off future they will compare it to dark ages. Time of fruitless strife, stagnation and death. - Quite a topic shift. - Dirk couldnt help but smirk. - What can I say? Opinions on fringe topics are the juiciest scraps one can get during those exchanges. - Wouldnt questions concerning combat prowess or personal info carry more merit? - Maybe if I was a military interrogator. That comment halted their conversation dead in its tracks. Both men started quietly sizing each other up, looking for any suspicious reaction or a glint of suspicion. Those words were a wake-up call for Jason, standing tall behind Dirk, that no matter how friendly people around could seem or act, all of them were cutthroats and opportunists. For the first time since their arrival, the Goliath didnt know how to act. Should he start murmuring, maybe lean forwards? - Good thing you aren''t. I would have to kill you if that was the case. - the old vets voice cut through the young man''s uncertainty. - It would cast quite a gloom over this evening. - Ha! Now thats a morbid response. - the oblong weapon-seller let out a hearty laugh, dispersing all the built-up tension. - Where does the certainty of yours come from? - Real ex-empies use many more tricks even in the simplest of conversations. If you interact with one, you can pick up on their patterns. - with that, Dirk grabbed a cigarette from a crumpled pack. - Youd have to be one dishonorably discharged interrogator to have such shitty oratory skills. - Now youre just being mean, and I wont even mention the gloom line. Really cashing in on my Brit heritage? - You walked into that one yerself mate. - Chernobogs accent changed to a well known caricature. - Oh, piss off and dont forget it''s your turn. - My opinion is brief and quite boring on this topic. - the soldier took a deep puff from the cigarette. - Times in which we live may be shit, but if thats the case, then It''s good to be a fly. Loads of dung to wallow in and make a big buck off. - Amen to that, old-timer. A crackling mechanical voice filled the air, causing Argonaut to look around spastically. With a loud sound of mechanical servos, a wall of steel approached them. It was over four meters wide and six meters tall, as the professional killer judged at the first glance. As it stomped heavily on its reverse-jointed legs, no one could mistake this creation for anything else but a mechanical combat suit. The voice itself, even if warped, easily betrayed who lurked underneath a smooth, featureless cockpit. - So thats your toy. - Dirk commented, slowly standing up. - Color me impressed. - Its named Pollux and youre correct to be impressed. - Barbaras voice, despite being warbled and crackling, made it certain to any listener how proud she was of this machine. - Its mayhem and destruction incarnate! - Holy hell. - Michael joined in. - No wonder the Ouroboros goons gave you a permit for an extra truck, young lady. - With me around, this whole trailblazing of ours will be a walk in a park! - a sudden shift in her already boisterous personality was quite jarring, but not unfounded. - Careful now, dont jinx it. - Chernobog warned her, walking closer to the unpainted chassis. As he walked closer, the machine raised its right arm. It was slightly larger and shaped differently from the other, as if made from different parts. Argonaut jumped in front of its master, pulling him slightly backwards. But all Pollux did was flex its arm, rousing engine sounds from within itself, and brandishing a large spike protruding from beneath its hand. - There is nothing to jinx fellas. Im just stating facts. Dirks expression soured in response to all the self-aggrandizing remarks, while Michael simply laughed, pulling out another bar to snack on. Nevertheless, the machine was impressive, so Dirk decided to not comment on it anymore and give the gal the benefit of the doubt. - Chernobog, I need you to do me a solid. - she spoke as the machine turned. - Do you now? - Gotta get servos and pistons churning for a bit before we depart, especially in this weather. - Barbara started explaining herself while her machines limbs moved around, like a boxer loosening up before a match. - So I need a sparring partner. - I dont think I want to spar with a hunk of titanium alloy. - Dirk exhaled smoke through the nose, focusing his attention on a minigun protruding from Polluxs left forearm. - Give me Argonaut for an hour or so. - Would you mind running that by me again? - Well, hes the only thing that looks sturdy enough for this role in the whole convoy. - she stated flatly. - Were talking about a biological killing machine here, Prusk, not a roided-up strongman. This thing was genetically perfected to kill people in droves. It is a bio-engineered apex predator. - So? Her request was quite surprising to say the least. Dirk found it positively delightful, all was going according to his plan. Even if Barbara wasnt in on his whole respect-building scheme, her request couldnt have come at a better moment. All the mercs comprising their Scout Team came out into the open to marvel at the weird contraption strolling about, a machine that naturally inspired awe and fear with mere sounds it made. If Jason were to hold his own against it for a prolonged period of time, maybe even toss it about a few times, people around them would see the regenerator in the same light as a mechanical combat suit, easily giving Chernobog The Late Mercenary respect and fear he required to act in accordance with his own whims. Fortune favors the bold. - he couldnt help but smile, while pulling out the magnetic leash. - Now I just need to give Jason a sneaky sitrep and the show will begin. - But I guess it''s your funeral. - the scheming old man moved the leash downwards, tugging Jason towards him. - Ill just alter the setting on the helmet so he doesnt tear your toy to shreds, it would severely impact the combat prowess of the Scout Squad. - Just dont neuter him. - Barbara turned around and walked towards a larger clearing within the encampment. - I want to have a good scrap, not a one-sided beatdown. While they talked, all other mercs in the vicinity started to converge, as the word of mouth traveled fast. Among people whose profession was death, seeing a potential carnage of that magnitude was still a rare occurrence, and quite a spectacle to behold, too. Using the sudden stirrup as a smoke screen, Jason took a knee and started whispering. - Is she suicidal? Have you gone senile? - his voice was quite nervous. - Are you both stupid? - Have some faith in your hero, this is perfect. - Dirk started to hastily explain while fidgeting with nothingness near Jasonss helmet. - With a simple show of force, our position in the convoy will be secured, allowing us to cut the whole act short. There will be no need to show off to anyone, nor brag about our exploits, making our life much easier. - You mean your life? - Jason sounded quite exasperated. - Ill still have to act like a gorilla in a zoo. - But a gorilla without idiots trying to jump into his enclosure. Sounds tantalizing now, doesn''t it? - Guess Ill bite then. - the young man rolled his shoulders. - Any pointers, coach? - Just dont make Fleece go ballistic. Focus on simply increasing muscle mass, thatll be enough to sell the act as the higher-end B-Type regenerator. - Aye, aye, Captain. You want me to win while Im at it? - Can you? The question stayed in the air for a while. Which surprised Dirk, it was probably the first time Jason had to ever think about his chances against anyone. - With all those restrictions If she doesnt use the in-built weapons, it should be doable. - the regenerator contemplated a bit longer before adding a small caveat to that statement. - But if she does, especially that weird apparatus on the left arm, Im probably, positively, fucked. Dirk has seen his fair share of weaponry during active service, from the barely functional relics, to the prototypes that never saw the light of day. Ones given to soldiers and those mounted or mobile platforms. But despite it all, he was stumped when it came to what kind of contraption Pollux had installed within its left arm. The lack of information increased the threat it posed at least tenfold. As cruel as it was to think so, Dirk hoped deep inside that Barbara would brandish it during the fight with Argonaut. They, no, he needed to know as much as possible about the people within his squad, and just as the chubby merchant of death said it before - people have reasons to lie. And he didnt share his flippant attitude towards working with unverified information. Thankfully, actions always spoke louder than words. Especially actions taken under pressure or duress. Im starting to sound like an Empire''s interrogator myself - Dirk looked as Jason got up from his knees. - Some of Ajaxs musk must have rubbed-off on me. - it was a terrifying thought to have. As they both followed to where Pollux stood, quite a sizable crowd managed to encroach upon them. A few hundred people at least, not only mercs but also employees of Ourobors managed to catch wind of what was about to happen. A fight between two beasts - mechanical and biological. A monster-mash type movie in real life, something that happens once in a lifetime, so no one could blame the people who would want to see this with their own eyes. Thankfully, due to their roles as challengers Charnobog and Argonaut could reach the arena without much of an issue, with a stream of people splitting before them as they walked. In the light of the moon, the mechanical armor paced around, yelling to the crowd through its speaker, building up the hype. Maybe it took away from the gravitas of the clash about to occur, but the enthusiasm of Barbara was contagious. Soon the audience was roaring and beating out the rhythm with their heavy boots. Dirk decided to remain at the edge of the cutthroat circle, letting Jason take it from there. Sending him off with a single order spoken aloud: - Argonaut, engage the target, no collateral. Output 50%. - Whaaa? Only 50%? - Barbara yelled, causing her mechs arms to slouch. - I told you not to- The words she was about to spout became stuck halfway through her throat as Argonaut drew close and grabbed the scruff of his cloak. With a swift motion he took it off and threw it into the air. What laid underneath caused many gasps and curses to erupt within the crowd. The very muscular, perfectly sculpted body of Jason was a sight to behold, even with scars covering almost every single spot on it. - Well Ill be damned, nice build, Mr. Monster. - female pilots piped down significantly, making her machine shift into a combat position. In response, Argonaut started to breathe heavily, in and out. In and out. This simple exercise suddenly started turning into something macabre as people started noticing that during each inhale, the regenerators skin started cracking, spilling streams of blood for a few milliseconds through thousands of microscopic wounds, only to be gone with the next exhale, passing like the wind from the giant''s lungs. After each rep of destruction and creation, the creature grew larger. Its muscles started to balloon, visibly stretching the skin, its limbs started to elongate. Soon, Argonauts ankles were no longer covered by the pale white pants that were barely holding together his massive calves and thighs. - Holy fuck, thats gnarly. - his opponent uttered through the intercom. It was the only appropriate reaction to a humanoid growing an extra meter of height through breathing exercise alone. That was the moment in which people started screaming from within the crowd: - Oy! Place your bets, people! During all that ruckus, Barbara Prusk made a mistake. A simple one, very human at its core, she relaxed slightly after all call out to all chronic gamblers within the crowd. Were she fighting against a human opponent he would have probably done the same, postponing the scuffle by a few minutes so that all interested in a bit of recreation fortune-teasing could bet their hard-earned money. But she didnt really take Chernobog''s words to heart, about the nature of her opponent. The weight of that ignorant behavior came to bite her in the ass quite swiftly, as without a word, Argonaut lunged forward on its elongated limbs. - Incoming missile! - her AI powered defense system screamed at her a second too late. A deafening crash shook Pollux as it staggered backwards in unison with most of the crowd. Unfortunately, that wasnt the end of it. Now firmly grasping a sticking out fragment of the machine''s shoulder-joint cover, the regenerator successfully mounted the front of the battle suit. With its free hand, it proceeded to mercilessly pound at the slick, metallic chassis covering the cockpit. It took a few more resounding pounds before two military-grade spherical cameras on the sides of the walker zeroed in on the regenerator. - Fuck, youre clingy! - with that declaration, Barb grabbed the humanoid by its scruff, trying to pull it off. Bafflingly she couldnt. The servomotors turned and whirred, but the regenerator barely budged. - I warned you. - Dirk whispered under breath. Changing her approach, the pilot stopped pulling and instead positioned both fists above Polluxs non-existent head. Then swung them downwards with blinding speed for its size. But instead of hitting anything, it cut through air as Argonaut sensed danger and bounced back onto all fours. Despite the feral behavior he had to emulate Jason wasnt a big fan of losing, especially after the fiasco with Misha, so he already formulated a winning strategy. Closing off any window for Barbara to utilize weaponry installed on her machine should be enough, in-fighting would do the trick. With that regenerator got up and roared into the sky, signaling the end of their first exchange. As it came to pass a few scratches and shallow dents were visible on the giant machine, while no damage was inflicted upon the old-war horror. Argonaut 1 point, Pollux 0. Coming to terms with this outcome and the scale of the scrap before them, the crowd went wild, hollering into the night following the beast''s example. Chapter 18 - Little Secrets Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, Barbara decided to start the second round with a blast. Steel goliath rumbled, as plumes of black smoke started to flow from its back and legs, causing spectators to scatter from behind her, cursing as they went. With a deafening sound of a jet engine Pollux flew forward, terrifying spectators and catching her opponent off-guard. Something that massive, moving so suddenly at an incredible pace wasnt what young Chrysos expected, despite himself being an anomaly in that department. His instincts told him to duck and slide under the machines legs Unfortunately he knew his role and such behavior just wouldnt fly. So he rushed towards the danger head-first, forgoing any notion of self-preservation. At least thats what he wanted the spectators and his opponent to think. Pollux swung its minigun-toting for a devastating haymaker, hitting its target successfully. Giant, five-digit fist slammed the running regenerator in its shoulder, making it jerk to the side from the impact. Bright-red blood splattered the soil and mechs chassis, not wanting to waste the advantage Barbara raised the other arm, ready to follow-up the succesful strike. With a powerful counter Argonaut dashed that plan slamming the front of the machine with a double-handed hammer-strike of his own. Despite the size difference he managed to push Pollux a step back, garnering a wave of surprise from the crowd. In an instant both fighters adjusted, running through their minds every available option at hand. After just a single counter Prusk understood why Argonaut closed in instead of dodging, he was curbing her strikes, decreasing the distance mechanical fists could travel, limiting their acceleration and in turn power. Thats not how a weapon acts - Barb commented, looking at the world presented by Polluxes cameras in slow motion. - Weapons do not learn and adapt this quickly fucking knew it. The old fart has been holding out on me. Not fully aware how much her IQ skyrockets during combat she continued to reach even further conclusions without any outside input. Those two always acted sus when outside of ears reach. So I guess its time for real introductions! She pulled the left joystick back, twisted in her anti-g-force seat, pulled the right joystick to the side and tensed muscles in both legs which were hidden in a coffin-like apparatus. Pollux took a wide swing with its left arm, turned at the connecting point between the upper and lower halves of its body, moved the right arm to the side, as if lifting some invisible shield, then took a single step backwards. This overaggerated motion got answered with the similar one by Argonaut, making the living weapon look like a smaller mirror image of the steel behemoth. - Suka blyat! Here it comes! - a man with a strong russian accent screamed from the crowd. - The classic! As if on his command two sources of unstoppable force swung with all their might. - Hello Argonaut! My name is Barbara Prusk! Nice to meet you! The weird comment that escaped the crackling intercom should have raised a few eyebrows, but no man nor woman had a chance to process these words as they were followed by an explosion of pressurized air and downpour of blood. With this amount of force everywhere was a splash zone. Some screamed, some reeled back, but all were equally astonished. Firstly by the clash itself, secondly by its aftermath. Both opponents stood resolute, connected with their fists in a contest of might. Both were slightly fidgeting but neither budged an inch. Blood now caked both contestants from head to toe, even though the regenerator''s hand seemed undamaged. Which struck fear and doubt into many who were watching. The stalemate didnt last long, as the beast was the first to break it, or rather its arm that for a split second turned into a fine red mist. Due to the lack of force pushing against the overwhelming weight of the battle suit, Pollux started falling forwards, accompanied by a lament of its servos.. Regenerator utilized that moment with impunity. Argonaut swung its leg backwards, and like a pendulum swung it forwards, almost above its head, hitting the machine in free-fall. Utilizing the rules of physics against it the force of the hit was massive, throwing Pollux on its side at the cost of Argonauts foot. Rocking back and forth inside the cockpit, thankfully secured by safety belts, Barbara didnt notice the moment in which her opponent turned the work of her life belly-up. She could only watch with a grimace as a gilded skull, caked in blood, yet without a single wound, sat on top of her machine. It roared and then proceeded to pummel the cockpit, first hits were slow, but with each consecutive one their speed proceeded to ramp up, finally reaching the point in which every hit mangled her opponents hands. Not like the creature had to worry about such a small inconvenience, its fists were back to normal by the time they fell on the steel carapace. This wasnt looking good. Artifacts were starting to appear on Pollux''s digital display and the leather upholstery surrounding here began bulging at points. Okay, shit, youre actually pretty good Argie - Prusk thought, wiping the sweat running down her brow like a waterfall. - Guess the old fart wasnt lying about that part. Even if she had spare frontal chassis in her sisters truck, she wasnt thrilled about spending the time left before their departure on replacing Polluxes damaged parts. Looking at the options available to her, in this disadvantageous position she couldnt do squat to stop the one-sided wallop Argonaut was subjecting her poor machine to. At the very least with weapons she used up to this point. Despite not feeling too good about admitting that in front of herself the biological weapon used by the Empies in the old war equaled Pollux in the strength department and dwarfed him in the area of mobility and adaptability. It could easily run circles around the mechanized battle suit up close. Closing off its capabilities one by one. First the melee string range by closing the distance. Then the thrusters by toppling the bucket-of-bolts over. Sorry Argie, but I cant let you damage my property any further - she wasnt a big fan of what she was about to do, but it was a necessity. - No hard feelings, kay? Ignoring the banging and blinking screens, Barbara reached for a small black casket, sticking out near the left joystick. Lifted it up revealing what hid underneath - it was a key, permanently welded into an ignition lock. She grabbed it and turned it counter-clockwise. - Left-hand engine powering up. - the synthesized voice of on-board AI announced. - 3 2 1, N. A. 17 ready. - I hope you know how to clench your teeth, big guy. With a vague statement Pollux raised its left arm in the instance where both arms of the regenerator werent beside its body. Then it placed it against opponents ribs and- A flash of light and an ear-piercing sound filled the quarry. Every single person gathered, with few exceptions, covered their ears in a delayed reaction to the assault on their hearing. They started to scream at whoever was responsible for this in upset, but Dirk wasnt one of them. During the whole battle he didnt take his eyes off Barbara''s contraption for an instance and it paid off. He now knew the secret of Polluxes left arm. The machine in question slowly rose to its feet, the regenerator that sat at its chassis now inexplicably missing. The audience''s upset quickly switched to bewilderment due to unexplainable disappearing acts taking place before their eyes. Ignoring their questions and wild debates, Barbara simply turned towards Chernobog. With a loud click thick clouds of steam erupted from the crevices within the mechanized chassis. Its heavily dented front lazily raised upwards, revealing the cockpit hidden underneath. There sat Barbara Prusk, breathing heavily, covered by a green hue of digital displays. Taking a lungful of cold, night air she could taste iron on her tongue. With an exhale she ran a hand through her hair, now ruffled beyond recognition. - Guess its my win, Chernobog. - she declared,visibly and audibly tired. - You can look for your pet a few hundred meters away from here, somewhere in the forest to the east, beyond the edge of the quarry. Sorry bout that. The other mercenary opened his mouth, but an eruption of cheers from the spectators prevented him from speaking. The fight was over and so it was time to reap the spoils. Everyone who partook in the gambling got busy and those that didnt either went their own way or started converging on the soaking-wet victor of the grueling combat. With a hiss and another wave of steam, the mech powered down for good, its individual elements moving in unison with mechanical whirs before dying down. As the gust of fresh air hit Barbaras face once more, she sighed in relief, just now truly remembering how hot the inside of her mech could get at times, especially when she hyperfocused on combat. Not yet leaving the machines interior, she wiped her face, now covered in sweat, and scanned the crowd as the commotion subsided from her vantage point, looking for the one person whose reaction she was interested in. It took a second, but she found Chernobog way off by the metaphorical rafters, way farther than he was mere seconds ago, just at the edge of the lit up area. A slight grimace entered her face. Where she was expecting an image of utter defeat, or perhaps a look of frustration infused with defiance and readiness for a rematch, she found none of that. Chernobogs expression was, simply put, unreadable. So neutral and cold, that it was subtly bordering on contemptuous. If he was going to say anything just moments ago, now he obviously wasnt going to bother. She got the impression that he wasnt even really looking at her, but almost right through and past her, her presence a mere distraction to him, in a way. That was no bother, though. What really rubbed her the wrong way was the fact that there was not even an inkling of worry on his face. His companion just got launched into space, and he didnt care. Barbara grumbled, struggling to process everything. She saw what Argonaut was capable of. There was more to him than met the eye. More than the two of them presented. The mech pilot was sure of it. It bothered her, now that she was sure of it. It bothered her that she was the only one worried about the big guy, even if she won not by knockout, but a glorified ring out. She was irked so much by it, in fact, that she was ready to jump down and make a fuss about it right to his face, but the crowd intercepted her the moment her feet touched down on the ground, sweeping her into a storm of cheers and jeers. Try as she might, she could only call out to the old man as she watched him disappear into the darkness. Meanwhile, Dirk was lost deep in thought as his legs led him out of the encampment. He was thinking about the mechanized suit, about the fight, and about Jason. He clicked his tongue, finally letting himself feel some frustration. The suit was impressive, that was for certain. Even he had to admit it But there was also so much wrong with the fight. Jason could have won easily, if only he made slight adjustments. If only he was a bit more careful. If only Dirk gave him a few directions. The old man shook his head, miffed, but not defeated. It was good that it went as it did. It showcased the Argonauts feral nature nicely. And yet, Dirk could not rid himself of this feeling of inadequacy. Like he failed Jason in some way, and thus, by extension, himself. Was he always like that? No. He didnt think he was, back in his Avatar days A sudden knot in his stomach stopped his train of thought, and Dirk realized just how far out hed gone from the gathering spot. He did have a flashlight handy, thankfully, but the true darkness that held grasp on the ruined Russia at night was a truly terrifying thing. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. With most cities either completely razed or damaged beyond recognition, save for a bunch of central hubs sprinkled throughout the northern Asian continent, there was very little light pollution anywhere just kilometers from the nearest Spire. And in all that darkness, Dirk just felt that he was being observed. In a blink of an eye there was a gun in his hand, and before he could even think about it, his body shifted into a combat stance. With the hand gripping the flashlight, he propped up his gun for stability and froze in place. He would not see whatever was keeping an eye on him before it pounced, but he could hear it. Still as a rock, he strained his ears, waiting for the slightest disturbance. He would need to be quick if he was to stand any chance of survival. He heard the howl of the wind and a distant choir of laughter, his own heart playing percussion to this melody of life and death. But there was nothing. The enemy, whoever, or whatever it was, was not making a mistake. Not even a twitch of a single muscle was out of place. And then he heard it. A single scratch on the nearby tree. Like an overstrained rope he snapped back and took aim in a moment that felt like an eternity, yet lasted no more than a tenth of a second. He could feel his finger pull on the trigger as his eyes searched for the target slower than his body acted. Then he saw it and could barely stop that chain reaction of his trained body from firing off, the only inhibiting force to work against pure habit being his force of will. He fired, just barely missing. But that was good. The bullet struck the tree bark right beside the tiny, glistening speck on its surface, and the thing, the source of Dirks unease, flew off with incredible speed. - Arent we both a little too old to pull pranks on each other? - Dirk said through grit teeth, feeling both shame and annoyance just thinking about what transpired. As if on cue, the little metallic speck zipped back from the abyssal darkness and landed on the tip of Dirks Makarov. Then, it spoke. - From my point of view, not much changes with age. Our toys just become more expensive, old friend. Maybe from your point of view, you weasel - Dirk thought, putting an index finger of his right hand near the gun barrel, to roll the small speck onto it. Once that was done he holstered the weapon and continued looking around. - Good to hear you Bug Commander, but you caught me at a bad time. - his walkabout at this point was aimless. Still, maybe with enough perseverance hed find some clues. - No need for codenames. - the speck spoke once more. - I am jamming the whole forest and I already found Jason, hes 654 meters North-West from your current position. - Dammit, Marcus, youre taking all the fun away from me. - My bad, I forgot about your midnight walks in the middle of nowhere. - the sentient spot on the veterans finger laughed. - We need to meet more often, or I might just forget how your face looks. - Do forget, if you could. It would certainly help my fugitive status. My bad, I meant a person of heightened interest. - with these words, Dirk started moving towards the provided coordinates. - Now, it''s not that bad Without a sound, a cloud of pure blackness started coiling around Dirk, like a swarm of insects. They coiled around him, betraying their nature as a singular entity, before slamming into the forest floor. At the same time as the speck from the veteran''s finger disappeared, the formless mass started rising, taking shape. - At the very least, you are able to fool around as a gun for hire. - the voice came from a construct, solidified from the black swarm. Its height was similar to Dirks, but the clothes it wore were outdated, to put it lightly. - A Landsknecht, really? - They did have simply splendid brimmed hats and those breeches. - the construct said, while flaunting a large feather sticking out from the headwear. - Unfortunately, Hives monochromatic nature ruins the multicolored style of the whole outfit. Dirk simply shook his head while chuckling. No matter how much time passes, Marcus never changes - he already forgot about the doubts filling his heart not long ago. - The most eccentric old fart you can find, after hours. - I assume there is no need for me to bring you up to speed when it comes to my situation? - Chernobog said in a strained voice, climbing up a pretty steep slope. - Of course not, unless you need to talk to someone. - Heavenly Generals avatar floated beside him, avoiding the inconvenience of terrain altogether. - Good one. - the old man smirked, reaching the higher ground. - But I am pretty sure your last name isnt Daniels. - Still drinking that mouth-wash? - the construct extended its hand towards the kneeling soldier. - Not everyone likes to ponder the secrets of the universe while sipping fermented grape juice. Chernobog accepted its help and got lifted up by a cloud of nanobots. It never ceased to amaze him how much weight those little greebles could support when combined. The successor of Dr. Chrysos was no slouch when it came to mechanical innovation. - You should try it from time to time, old friend. - the mustached visage of the Hive cloud smiled warmly. - Those who live slower tend to live longer. - Then how are you still alive? - You cheeky- The nano-machine construct swatted Dirk upside the head, ruining the ponytail on which Barbara worked so meticulously. Thankfully, the member of the Scout Squad preferred it this way, his scalp felt much more comfortable. Besides, for a blissful while he was no longer Mercenary Chernobog there was no need to act and pose in front of the crowd. But simply Dirk, a washed-up Empire Special Forces Officer, talking with a good friend that was still stuck in their line of work. Continuing their small-talk, safe from interruptions and any eavesdroppers, he didnt even notice when he started smiling. - You needed a little breather from the suffocating posh of Central? - Chernobog asked, finally letting curiosity get the better of him. - Not really. With the way Ajax throws his weight around the place, my workload is steadily decreasing. - the black avatar knotted both hands behind its head. - Isnt that bad? - If it was, I wouldnt be floating here, discussing it with you, now, would I? - Fair point. - The things young Daunt tries to directly control are surface level. - without being asked, he began to elaborate. - If he wants to move me away from the table, I am okay with that. He wants to be my stand-in at an official meeting? Fair enough. But there is a limit to which his youthful vigor, burning patriotism and visions of grandeur will carry him. - the construct smirked. - Thankfully, he is smart enough to know that. So he doesnt even try to upstage me as a Chief Intelligence Officer. The upstarts already burning the candle on both ends. - Thats a relief. Losing an early warning system like you would impact my holiday plans in a major way. Wouldnt want to cancel them. - On that note That wasnt what Dirk wanted to hear. With the smile gone, he stopped and turned towards the humanoid construct, now steadily planted on the forest bedding. Dirk really hoped the light-hearted tone could have lasted until they reached Jasons crash-site, but Fortune seemed to have had other plans. - Is it that bad? - Chernobog asked. - You might want to take a seat. - Marcuss tone now reminded him of the days during the Red Rebellion. The cold and calculating Heavenly General Cicada finally reared his head. - My joints arent that atrophied. - the joke was poor, but it was a simple buffer, to give Dirk time to switch back into Mercenary Chernobog. - Then Ill get to the point. Hyena is on your ass, the Fenrirs already mobilized and at 0200 two squads will be leaving central. The news were more than terrible. - At 0430 two more will depart. I did my best to stall them with supply line issues and the recent charity ball with Kintsugi Union representatives. Unfortunately, to not much avail. - Do you know anything about their ordinance? - Negative. He keeps it behind closed doors, even my insider couldnt give me much. Marcus has an insider in Ajaxs troupe? - it was quite a surprising tid-bit of information for Dirk, but it wasnt as important as some other questions at the moment. - Any RoE limitations or collateral restrictions? - Negative. He really wants you out of the picture now. - Is there some reason for it? - the old dog couldnt believe someone would simply jump at his throat the moment the opportunity presented itself. - Some political move in the recent future? - Negative. Best I could surmise is that you must have really crossed him all those years ago. - You gotta be fucking kidding me. - Wish I was, old friend. This exchange filled him with way too much information for his liking. At the worst of moments, too. Finding Jason should have been his priority, then depositing all those bags he carried on himself to their truck. But instead he now had to come up with some idea to survive the upcoming days on the frozen tundra, not only watching out for his cutthroat teammates and rabid fauna, but now also a suppressed bullet cutting through the darkness. - I am sorry that I couldnt bring any good news with me. - Marcus sounded slightly remorseful. - We should have never accepted that upstart into our midst. - Youre talking like there was any choice to be made. - Dirk forcefully smiled. - A single person above us made a decree, and we simply obeyed. - Ultimatums are no way to lead. - Youre barking at the wrong tree with platitudes like that, old friend. - Dirk hated saying that aloud, but it was the truth. - I was always a simple soldier. Politics were way above my pay grade. But with many more growth-rings in my stump than back then I could have done better. Uncomfortable silence fell around them. Which lasted until the nano-construct placed its cold hand on his shoulder. - That goes for the both of us. - There was a faint note of melancholy in his voice, masked by a thick layer of practiced professionalism. The phantom let go of Dirk and turned around to look towards the sky just as the clouds parted to reveal a patch of a starry firmament. It lasted just a moment, then faded. - I have to go. I have my fingers in too many pies. Keep an eye out for my drones. I might be able to smuggle a piece of information or two for you. The humanoid form started to fall apart in small convulsions, but before it could lose its shape entirely Dirk interrupted it with a raised hand. - Now, just one thing. - Yes? What is it? - the technological ghost cocked an eyebrow. - I know I joked about you being my early warning system, but why? Why bother to warn me? - deep inside, Dirk knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and yet something gnawed at his mind. A hunch, perhaps, or plain curiosity. He couldnt tell. - Its been years since our last meeting, and that one certainly wasnt the prettiest. - Do I need a reason to warn a friend of impending doom? And years? Those fly by like days when youre my age. Besides, Im a bureaucrat at heart. Ive seen matters take decades to complete. What are a few years? - Ajax might be a psychotic zealot and an upstart, but hes still a Heavenly General, just like you. By interfering with his operations without the Emperors consent, you are breaking one of the Three Sacred Rules. - These have become mere suggestions years ago. - Marcus looked dejected over his own statement, but refused to elaborate any further. - You are going to get into a lot of trouble. - Only if I misplay my hand. - he rubbed his forehead in thought, then looked Dirk in the eyes, his face painting a picture of a stern, but fair elder. - If nothing else, this country has a debt to you, one bigger than you could ever imagine, and Im not going to let it go unpaid. Ive had my hand in many misdeeds at the Emperors command, but letting a friend die - he paused, his face somehow at the same time conflicted and resolute. The silence bore down on the two men as they both composed themselves. - I really need to go. - Marcus conceded first. - Theres a country that needs a babysitter. I wish you luck, but hope you wont need it. - Dont worry, I make my own luck. - Dirk shot back, not hiding his swelling pride as the black mass lost its form and like a glob of brackish water became one with the all-encompassing darkness. Dirk sighed, feeling a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. Was he stressed? Did the news really just hit him, or was he holding back his own feelings so as not to embarrass himself in front of a friend? Maybe a little bit of both. His hands were shaking. What a sorry sight - the old man thought. Without a moment of hesitation he slammed his fist against a nearby tree. Bark dug into his skin, the sting of pain, amplified by the cool breath of the night air, pulled him out of the quickly spiraling mood. He wasnt a child anymore. The luxury of fear, doubt, or such pathetic behavior, has been taken away from him the moment he took his first officer insignia. An enemy was coming for him at full force, there was no other choice but to meet them head on. He had to be ready. Invaluable information that Marcous brough him, completely negated Ajaxs greatest trump card - the element of surprise. That should be enough to level the playing field a little, still, it was no time to be complacent. The young Heavenly General still held more pawns than the old dog could ever muster. Outnumbered, outgunned and surrounded with people he could not rely on Dirk chuckled. He wasnt a fresh recruit, but this sure made him feel like one. How many years, maybe even decades, has it been since he was on the back leg? Since he had to improvise and strategise to have any hope of seeing another sun-rise? Too many to count. But it was sink or swim, and he was never one to let others shove his head under the waters surface. With nothing left for him within The Empire, hed struggle until the bitter end. Too many people were watching his back in their own ways. He would not let their support go to waste. Speaking of, he turned towards the direction Marcus had shown him, ready to meet the likely frustrated Jason. The young lad might not have shown it, but he really wanted to win that scrap with Barbara. Chrysos Jr had a competitive side to him, that he for some reason tried to to the best of his abilities. With miserable results. Dirk smiled at the thought, his mind already formulating some sage battle advice. Next time they wouldnt lose. The God of War would make sure of that. Chapter 19 - Smaller Answers - Wow, you screwed the pooch on that one. - Shut up. - You were limiting the output of our power, I was fine with that- - Shut it. - As long as we got a chance to let loose, tear something to bits. The target was so large and resilient it was a perfect punching bag, yet here we are- This time he didnt respond. After all, agreeing with it would get to its head. - In the middle of nowhere, thrown aside like a ragdoll. This feels like shit, wouldnt you agree? We were so close too, each hit went in so smoothly, resounded so gloriously. Had us going for a while, both you and I. Looking at that armor slowly denting from each impact, the victory was so close at hand, you just had to break through that hard shell to get into the creamy insides, but you fumbled at the end, right at the finish line. The consequences of your poor judgment and even poorer execution, Jason-boy. - Dont call me that. - Why not? You do seem to respond better when old people talk to you. Cant hide that lacking father figure- - Shut the fuck up already, hell! - he couldnt hold it in anymore. - Yeah, I screwed up, can you stuff it already? You had a ball with that scrap, didnt you? There will be more once we get the convoy going. Just sit in some damp corner of my mind until then, you insufferable prick! The conversation finally subsided. With it, Jason finally opened his eyes, freely gazing into the starry sky above. Suit yourself, loser - with those parting words, Fleece went silent again. Thankfully. Despite his patience and understanding, Fleece was the only entity in the world that could make him lose patience in the matter of seconds. To most people, having a little voice nagging them in the back of their head was a metaphor for compulsive behavior and bad ideals, but in his case it was a living, malicious force forever watching over every action he ever took. Jason exhaled. Man, Im spent - the regenerator declared, hoping that the passenger in his head wouldnt respond. - I want a shower and a nap inside one of the cars - the giants enormous body, bereft of any post-battle scaring, stretched itself out within the crater from his landing. - After that portion Dirk saved up for me, it probably went cold by now That fight sure was a wake-up call. Or rather, a not-so-gentle reminder. Fighting against a human-sized opponent was simple enough, based entirely on Jasons natural specs. Wide swing here, push-kick there, some more or less compact jabs, and it was all it took. Like with every rule there were exceptions, like people unnaturally skilled or seasoned in killing, those would take some more work, but there was rarely an obstruction that constant regeneration and sheer force couldnt topple. And thats all putting aside how many weaknesses human beings possess. Despite their natural durability, a being with the strength of Jason could simply scoop a human and throw them against the floor with lethal results. Being on the top of the food chain made him complacent and sloppy. He had that nagging feeling when talking with Dirk before the fight, that a mech suit could prove to be more than he can handle without relying on Fleece. But young Chrysos couldnt even fathom to what degree. With a swift motion, he removed the limiter helmet, letting his unkempt hair spill out alongside all the droplets of water blanketing his face. A side effect of breathing inside a bucket for this long. Air tasted extra sweet tonight. - Guess it means I can only go upwards from here. - Jason smiled. - But how the hell am I supposed to practice anti-monster techniques? - Well have to ask Barbs for a favor. A new voice joined his monologue, one that the young giant was pleased to hear. - What can we even offer her in exchange? - Whatever she asks for. - Dirk spoke with certainty while lighting a cigarette. - I just hope she wont ask for money, aint got much of that. - You sound surprisingly chirpy. - Jason raised his head to see the other man better. - Didnt know you were addicted to nicotine so badly. - Very funny. I just had some soul-searching session while scouring the bushes for your sorry ass. - milky smoke escaped his nose between sentences. - So I took a bit of a new perspective towards the situation at hand. - Damn, you too? - Great minds think alike. Both men chuckled in the middle of the night. Reveling in the sad state of things surrounding them, only finding more power in misery. - So whats the plan now? Were simply going back? - Jason got up only to take a seat on the nearby stump. - In a bit. Unless youre in a hurry to put the limiter helmet on? - Dirk joined him, opting for a nearby rock instead, making double sure that the cloak kept some of the cold from his rickety ass. Last thing he needed was to catch a cold. - Ill take you up on that offer then. - the other man replied, catching a pack of cigarettes thrown his way. - You wouldnt happen to have my supper with you? - Left it in the other pair of pants. - Yeah, I was afraid so. Then a silence fell between them, as they both enjoyed the brief moment of respite. As they basked in their shared solitude, back at the camp the crowd that bore witness to their battle already dispersed, leaving Barbara to check on the damage sustained by her mechanized suit. She thought it wasnt anything major, simple dents, scrapped waterproofing here and there, but the biggest issues were the servos holding the front shielding. They loosened quite a bit from all the force affecting them during the duel. Under normal circumstances she would have to move Pollux back to the truck but thanks to simple forward-thinking she brought the toolbox with her. Not wanting to dawdle too much, she took off the jacket, put on thick working gloves and removed the toolbox from the cockpit. But as she took a knee to rummage through its content, someone approached her. - Blyat, aint you a busy bee? - Morozov said, sipping on a beverage of unknown origin. - After a show like that, the victor should enjoy the afterglow a bit more, roll the taste around in your mouth. - First, gross. - she responded. - Second, Ive got a window of opportunity now, so why would I delay it? She got up with a handful of tools and moved towards the chassis of a machine, now laying dormant. Misha followed her with a bitter expression. - Devochka, it is the privilege of the young to be reckless and slovenly, if you act so mature and responsible now youll grow old in a blink of an eye. - ruskie spoke his mind, leaning against the machine''s right forearm, near where the girl in question started her repairs. - So said the wise sage? - she scoffed without looking at him, resetting her attention for the work at hand. - So said the man who made that mistake already. - Youll have to introduce me to him one of these days. - Zhopa. - he chuckled under breath while taking a sip. - Dont worry, your little head, Red. Youthful blood runs in my family. - Couldnt tell. - Guess I walked straight into that one. - You sure did. Both chuckled, as the mech pilot took a knee to look at the servo from a different angle. Taking an unorthodox position, her companion couldnt help but steal a glance at a place where no reputable man dared to look in public. - I would say that my eyes are somewhere else, you lush. - she said calmly, putting a wrench into her pocket and grabbing an allen key. - But I dont think you would reach my eye-sight now. - Youre too kind. - Misha grinned, being caught red-handed. - You do have a nice rack, though. - I am quite surprised it took you this long to say that. Ya know, some could interpret it as workplace sexual harassment. - Thats how you kids call it these days? - ruskie spat on the ground. - Back in my day, appreciating a fine looking woman was proof of good taste and proper etiquette, as long as you werent married. - So that answers one of my questions. - she whispered, changing the repair tool again. - Don''t worry your little head, old-timer, I dont mind that much, as long as youre just stealing glances. - Hey, durak, what gave you the idea Id try anything else? Do I look like some creep? For that question, Barbara paused. She turned around and looked him straight in the eyes. The both remained silent, locked in the battle of gazes. - Nah, Im just fucking with ya. - Prusk started laughing before turning back towards her playground. In response, the old Russian leaned back and took a deep sip. - Pashol na hui, almost had me going there for a minute. - Dont worry, compared to Chernobog you look like a kindergarten teacher. - Are you still trying to diss me? - the Russian wasnt too sure how to interpret that. - I am just happy that despite your age you still know how to banter and goof around, Red, unlike the resident grump of the Scout Squad. - they both knew who that moniker was referring to. - Its his personal charm, devochka! Every group needs that cold and calculating guy. Hearing that, she exhaled heavily. It wasnt that she minded Chernobogs personality, she simply would have liked it if he could act more approachable to people close to him. With that in mind, she turned around, about to ask Morozov for a flat-head from the toolbox. Surprisingly, a hand with the exact screwdriver was already extended towards her. At its opposite end was a grinning Russian. - So ya got any more funny gossip to share? I am quite fond of that girly-talk. - Were not gossiping, we are exchanging information on an old fart who is tougher to crack than an old Russian tank. - she corrected him while snatching the screwdriver. - Ha! Thats a very good comparison, devochka! - Morozov was greatly amused. - Unfortunately for you, he behaves almost exactly the same around his close friends, so I wont help you too much. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.- Does he behave exactly the same or almost the same? - Zhopa, you know what I mean. - Yeah, yeah, thats a bummer With that, she focused again on her work. Barbara wasnt about to say it out loud to the giant blabbermouth next to her, but she grew somewhat fond of the Chernobog and Argonaut duo, despite knowing them for barely a day. They had something about them that she could best describe as a vibe. One that made them exude an almost suffocating aura of mystery that instead of pushing the young pilot away made her want to learn more about them. Thats why the realization that Chernobog was holding out on the info concerning Argonaut filled her mouth with a bitter aftertaste. Wasnt she helpful and friendly towards them? Why didn''t they want to open up to her? Maybe big sis will know - she pondered, ending maintenance on another servo. - Shell probably say that Im trying too hard and going too fast. Prusk couldnt help but smile meekly. The number of times her older sister gave her an earful over the years made some of the responses almost predictable. But shed see how it turns out once she met up with her. - I see that Argonaut did a number on you after all. - Chernobogs calm voice jolted Barbara away. She turned around and surely, there he was, with a towering regenerator in tow. Despite his usual gloomy demeanor, he seemed strangely happy. It was baffling. But maybe it was Barbara who still had a lot to learn about the old soldier before her. - Must have launched him pretty far. - she welcomed them both with a smile. - But still, nothing? Not a single scar on him? - Its all in the name. - Chernobog responded. - If you want to stop a regenerator, you gotta kill them in a single stroke. - Or to send them flying all the way to the border. - Morozov interjected, earning a low roar from the previously mentioned bio-weapon. - There, there, big guy, no need to be a sore loser. - Dont agitate him. - Barbara kicked the Russian in the shin, garnering no reaction. - Maybe you should get him some GPS bracelet? To prevent issues like that from occurring in the future? - Sure, let me ask the local forest gnomes. - Dirk said sarcastically, heading out towards the place where their Scout Squad was located. - This was a business proposal, old-timer. - the woman got swiftly into the pilot seat, finally finished with the repairs. - Making a rur-rudre-rudemr- a simple device like that would take me half a day at best. - I see, and? - Chernobog turned around, somewhat intrigued. - Want to sell it to me? Im not too keen on monetary transactions. Im here to make money, not spend it. With a roar, Polluxs engine awoke from its slumber. The mech took a few steps towards Dirk before stopping. - Oh, I dont need your dough. - declared the machines pilot from the wide-open cockpit. - Id just ask ya to loan me Argonaut each time we reach a stop, for training purposes. Even if I won, it was way too close of a match. - she turned towards the regenerator. - I need to get better and by looking at your friend, I can tell, we both want this. Jason didnt show any expression through the gilded helm, which raised a question how Barbara reached that conclusion, but at the same time Dirk cast his gaze down. The old soldier inspected the ground, shrouding his face in shadow and unkempt hair. He wasnt contemplating the offer, though. He was hiding his shit-eating grin. Everything proceeded perfectly as he wanted it to. God of war didnt even have to beg Barbara for anything, nor attempt any type of barter. A lesser man would consider such an outcome a stroke of luck, but Dirk knew better. It was an outcome of meticulous planning and decent enough acting on both his and Jason''s part. He might not have been as rusty as he thought when it came to espionage tactics. Not wanting to toot his own horn too hard, he looked at the machine before him, meeting the womans eyes filled with expectations. - You sure bout that, kid? Argonaut is a wild beast, next time he might do something you wont predict, and I might not be there to pull on the leash. - That almost sounds like youve got no faith in me. - the steel left arm of Pollux waved dismissively. - Dont sweat the small stuff, Ive got parts to spare if the worst comes to pass. - Is it economically viable to play like that? - Morozov interjected, while lighting a cigarette. - You too got your panties in a bunch? If the pilot-mechanic of the vehicle says they can handle it, why do you still doubt them? - she was a step away from pouting. - Experience in fighting against humanoid bio-weapons is much more precious than any spare part. How many people in the world could ever say they got any of it? - True, I suppose. - Dirk contemplated for a bit before turning around towards his previous destination. - Im in, we can shake on it once youre out of that death-machine. With that, all sides got what they wanted and left the trade satisfied. While walking away, the old man shot a glance at his Russian friend, who without saying anything got the memo and promptly joined him. - Ill join you guys in a jiffy, need to check up on sis! - pilot Prusk declared before strutting away in her own direction. Once she was gone and the trio made considerable progress towards the Scout Squad gathering point, Morozov lightly elbowed Dirk. - So, whats the new sensation spreading through the nation? - he kept his voice low, predicting the importance of what the others had to share. - Ive met up with Marcus, or rather his proxy. - Suka blyat, for real? - Who? - Jason whispered, lowering his head. - Old friend, might have heard of him. - Dirk gave the giant above him a side-eye. - Hes in the military, likes bug taxidermy. It took the youngest of them three a bit, before he connected the dots and simply said. - Holy shit. - What did he want? - Misha took the reins of the conversation to not derail it any further. - Dont say he only wanted to catch up. - Apparently a certain upstart got things in motion to put a noose around my neck. - despite the severity of their topic, Dirk acted casually. After all, they were in the middle of the Ouroboros encampment, if they somehow were already on-site they wouldnt try anything. But acting suspicious about their topic could catch the attention of some riffraff, and he had no desire to deal with any at the moment. - Sent a pack of stray dogs after me, two found my scent, more are still napping. - the code in which he spoke, despite its impromptu nature, seemed easy enough to understand for his listeners. - Thats quite a lot of dogs. - ruskie summarized with a sage-like expression. - We dont have enough snacks for them all. - What do snacks mean in this context? - Jason inquired. - You dont know? For shame malchik, for shame- - Nothing, he is fucking with you. - Dirk cut the joke short, prompting the giant to stare down Morozov who winked in response. - I want you to inform me of any dog-stench within your unit and get as many people who are good with dogs on your side as you can. - Yeah, yeah, I know how to get along with people. - the Russian responded dismissively. - Hows it looking on your side? - Found one, possibly two dog-lovers, but havent checked their resumes yet. Not counting the sisters that is. - I wouldnt rely too much on the older one if I were you. - Misha rubbed his naked scalp. - From the few words I exchanged with her, the big-boys of Ouroboros are keeping her under close watch due to the nature of Castor. - Youve seen it? - Da, lemme tell ya - Russian whispered loudly. - That thing is a walking natural disaster, no way in hell Ouroboros will allow it to even straighten its joints without direct permission. - Thats fine. - Dirk said with a smile. - It is? - Sometimes a gun in its holster is more dangerous than the bullet it could fire. - Sounds like the Cold War doctrine. - Jason made himself known with a poignant commentary. - Exactly. Its presence will limit the RoE those mutts could apply even further, us being in good graces of the older sister wouldnt hurt to that end. - Blyat, you know Im not good with married women. - Sounds like a you problem. - the old soldier smirked and looked towards his friend. - Idi na hui, blyat. - it was the first time in a long time that Morozov was visibly upset about something. - Dont expect a miracle, but Ill see what I can do. They finished just in time, as the ugly vehicle that previously caught Dirks attention reared its head. They reached the Scout Squad, but this time around Michael Becker was nowhere to be seen. Instead, some new faces turned around to observe their approach. An EoD suit? Havent seen that in years - Dirk commented on one of them as they approached. - That thing is more ancient than Mishas PM pistol. Being back in character, Argonaut growled. Giving one of them, a man who wore a full Ouroboros outfit but with a checkered armband, a pause. - Dont be a bitch, Lance. - a muffled voice came from the beige explosive-resistant suit. - Go fuck yourself Spoon, not all of us wear 40 kilograms of kevlar. - the reluctant man responded, looking Argonaut up and down. There were two others, but they stayed by the horrendous looking transportation vehicle. - How can we help you, gentlemen? - Morozov started, clasping both hands together. - Want a donation? Directions? Or maybe a broken nose? - Easy there, baldy. - the armored man took charge. - Were all reluctantly sitting in the same boat here, so my friend and I came over to introduce ourselves properly to our squad''s late-comers. Honest response with a veiled insult, guess some corpo-type interactions were long overdue - Dirk couldnt help but wince internally. - Im Spoon and thats Lance. - he pointed his thumb towards the other guy before looking at Chernobog. - And you are- - You sure his name aint Fork? - The Russian decided to force himself into a conversation he was denied a part in. - That would make those in the back a Knife and Tea Spoon, giving you a whole bourgeois cutlery dinner set! - Very funny. - Spoon spared him a quick response before taking a few steps towards the owner of the bioweapon. - Am I correct in assuming that youre Chernobog? - You are correct. - not wanting to antagonize his teammates too much, Dirk spoke out. - Two others in the back dont feel like introducing themselves yet? - It may sound a bit weirdam, but they are shy. - Spoon explained with a very forced laugh. The old soldier had no clue what the other man was talking about. That word sounded like he was having a stroke in the middle of the sentence. Maybe it was some lingo of the modern youth? If that were the case the armored guy gave him more info than he realized. The realization of how much power simple words like that held came pretty late in life for some. - Nothing we can do about that. You want something else from me? - he might have been playing a role the whole time, but the performance Spoon invited him to felt stale. - If not, Id like to get to my things I left in the truck, my regenerator is hungry, you see? As if to make sure the point stuck, Jason growled and small droplets of saliva started escaping his limiter helmet. Quickly getting the gist of it, Spoon simply took a step back, while his friend walked back to the other two. - Thanks. - Dirk nodded. - What military unit are you from? - the bomb-suit man asked the last question. - One where you do a favor to get a favor. Stick around and maybe youll learn. With that, the conversation was gently put down by Dirk as he marched onwards towards the truck. The hour of their departure was inevitably drawing near, and as much as Dirk had already made himself familiar with their transport from the outside, most of the interior of the lumbering beast was still a mystery to him. His only contact with it was brief, serving only the mundane role of depositing food for Jason somewhere recognizable. A mistake easily rectified, if only he could squeeze by without any more annoyances taking up his time. Chapter 20 - Falstart Morozov, feeling that the zero hour was approaching, waved his goodbye and strutted over to his own unit, but not before giving Dirk a light punch to the arm. Light for his standards, of course, it would still hurt like hell if the latter didnt expect it. The assaulted man shook his head in a kind of tired, but content way, and moved to the back of the truck, avoiding any more unwanted social interactions. He passed the mysterious shy group on his way, taking a long way around to not tempt fate. Exchanging short and uninterested glances with one of the men, the one in the ghillie suit hed seen way back during the briefing, and moved on. The back door soon made its appearance, being more of a steel gate than an actual door. The compartment seemed to serve as both a little deployment zone for troops, with benches lining the walls, separated by a big empty space in between, and a garage for smaller modes of transportation, such as ATVs and motorcycles, with the door also serving as a small, but sturdy ramp when fully open. No lighter vehicles were sadly present at this time, and Dirk was not holding out much hope in that regard. Still, the thing looked at least somewhat workable, even if the trucks design was growing more misguided with every look the old dog took at it. Having a central deployment zone was good for mass, coordinated assaults, so he doubted it would be that handy with the few people his unit had. Still, a large exit was always better than a small, cramped one. Cramped exits combined with panicked movement were a recipe for a disaster during a sudden deployment. Putting his military deliberations to the side for the time being, Dirk ushered Jason in, and the big lad obliged with a groan and a low hiss one could expect to hear from an angered alligator. If Dirk had to give one thing to Jason, it was that he went all in once his head was in the game. Hed have to ask him later how Chrysos Jr even manages to make all those sounds. Inside was rather dark, but navigable thanks to the ambient light from the outside. In the cold, gentle glow, Dirk could see multiple harnesses, both for people and cargo. Hanging drawers meant for munitions and other necessities, all in the same rough hues of gray and deep dark green. The old vet swept the place with his eyes as he always did in a new environment, and seeing there were no apparent cameras anywhere, bounced to the side, prompting Jason to follow silently. Reaching up, he opened one of the drawers and lo and behold, there it was - the cold and stale dinner that Dirk squirreled away for the boy. He handed him the tray and took the liberty to pull the big red lever by the exit, spurring the great metal cage to life as the ramp lifted off the ground and the gate behind them closed, leaving them in darkness. Only for a brief moment, though, as the compartment soon turned red as the low-voltage lamps inside flickered on. - Ill stand guard, so you do your thing. - he reassured Jason with a pat on the arm, then walked towards the door that led further into the truck. Walking through, he closed the door behind him and nonchalantly leaned against it with both arms crossed over his chest. Staring down the corridor, he could tell that the interior was deceptively spacious, for how cramped it seemed at a glance. Even though there was barely any space for two people to stand shoulder to shoulder, the design had a row of doors on each side leading into, as yet, nondescript holding spaces. Their contents werent exactly on his priority list. What was quickly making its way up said list was the matter of grunts of pain echoing down the dimly-lit corridor from somewhere even further in. - Ah, shit. Be careful, you quack! This is my face, not some fucking rope in a tug-of-war. - a familiar sounding voice yelled in pain, accompanied by a loud thud and a metallic bang - Old as dirt and acting like a child. Sit still, or this will become an unwanted plastic surgery. - someone answered calmly and almost indifferently, but with a distinct stern note. - Are you fucking drunk? Your hands are shakC Argh! - another grunt of pain cut the statement short. - They always shake. I work better when they do, actually. Dirk would be lying if he said he wasnt interested in whatever was going on, but stuck to the door as he was. Relying on imagination to paint the picture of amusing scenes taking place just beyond his reach. Still, duty-bound as he was to guard theC Suddenly a loud belch, way too long and guttural in its nature made the soldier''s thought process turn to shit. Apparently the kid didnt bother eating like a human as Dirk assumed he would, and just shoved the whole thing down the chute, regenerator-style. With a clear sign from Jason that he was finished, Dirk knocked on the door twice, letting the lad know that he was leaving to scout ahead and promptly moved on. The corridor turned to the right at the end and then left again, making space for a bigger room. The door leading inside was wide open and inside Dirk could see Black, sitting in a metal chair with a bloody nose and a gash on his brow. There was also one new face, though face was perhaps a bit of an overstatement. A tall man in a messy, checkered vest put over a white shirt stained with sweat and what looked like dried blood stood right in front of the old gun enthusiast. His hair was black, short and unfortunately for him, a little thinning, though to his credit his hairline was mostly intact. His face was covered with a surgical mask, and in his shaky hand he was holding a needle. He was in the middle of putting Blacks face together. Having just sewn his brow tight, he reached for a gauze to clean the old mans nose. - There. - he handed him the white rectangle with little care, then turned around to wash his hands in the nearby sink. At least that confirmed they had some sort of running water in this moving 1-star hotel. The man clearly showed little care in the cleanup part of first aid. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. - Now my faces going fucking numb. Great. Why couldnt it have done that 10 minutes ago? - Black grumbled under breath, messily wiping his face. - Came to have a giggle? - he shot Dirk a displeased question as he caught him staring in the door. - Hardly. - he shot back with little thought. - Im not the kind to laugh at a guy when hes down. Unless were good friends. - Point taken. Im off to my quarters then. Id advise you to get the fuck out of here, unless you want to get your face remodeled by this quack of a doc. - You got your face rearranged yourself, mister Brzoza. - the supposed quack commented, neither offended nor particularly amused. - Hey! No names! Dont make me get in your face! - Black growled, ready to pounce, but scoffed and pushed his way out of the room. Dirk followed the old man with his gaze for a brief moment and watched him disappear behind a corner, back where he just came from. He heard a door screech open, then shut. So those little cubbies are our quarters... - Dirk thought, a little disappointed, but not really surprised. - Reminds me of those capsule hotels from Kintsugi Union. - Can I help you with something? Injuries? Illnesses? Or are you just standing there to steal oxygen? - So youre our medic? - Dirk asked, rather stupidly, but it didnt hurt to make sure. - That I am, contrary to what mister BrzC mister Blacks rash opinion of me would imply. - The sewing looked rather neat. Weird how displeased he was. - He damaged a nerve in his brow ridge during a pointless scuffle. Im not going to waste anesthetics on something trivial like that before we even departed. Ouroboros might be a medical company, but they werent very generous with medical supplies. - the stranger clicked his tongue. - Do mercs always have to establish hierarchy the very hour they meet? - he threw his hand up in frustration, the first display of strong emotion from his side, paradoxically not showing on his face, now free of the mask. He looked to be in his late forties, maybe early fifties. He had deep wrinkles around his mouth and a 5 o-clock shadow. - A clear chain of command is vital to any operation. - Thank you for this unrequested wisdom, mister Chernobog. - Oh, so you know my name. I didnt catch yours, though. - I didnt give it to you. - he stated matter-of-factly. - You can call me Armistice, since mister Black insists we go by aliases. - Since you know his name, I assume Ouroboros gave you some insight into our squad? - They generously bestowed me with your medical files. They are empty aside from names and photos, though. Ill have to fill those out myself as needed. - There was some bile building up in his voice. He clearly wasnt happy about the arrangement. - Well? Do you want to declare anything? Any life-threatening conditions? Allergies to common medical substances? A tumor in your brain that might affect your hormonal balance? - Nothing of the sort. For now at least. Ill be sure to get back to you if I remember something, though. - Right If you live that long, that is. Since the introductions are over, and you are not bleeding, I assume that is all for now? - That sounds about right. - Dirk nodded ever so slightly, one foot outside the door. - Well be leaving soon. Ive been on my post, working, for a while now. You should get acquainted with yours, behind the wheel. - Right - Dirk exhaled, reminded that hed be the driver of the squad. - Then Ill be seeing you, Armistice. - he really let that one roll around his tongue. Doing that only enforced his personal opinion that the nickname didnt feel right. Too fancy to effectively scream during combat situations. - Id rather not. At least not anytime soon. - Chernobog managed to catch those last few words from the other man before disappearing in a side passage. Retracing his steps, Dirk closed the door and took a left turn, where the corridor forwards continued. Barely a meter in were another door with a pristine pale plaque riveted to them. A single word written on it only hammered home what the upcoming days held in store for the former Heavenly General candidate. The man with the most illustrious service record in the history of The Empire. The man who organized, taught and armed the strongest special forces unit in the whole world. The man whose title could only be said in hushed whispers by any group that dared to raise arms again The Empire Without words, he clasped the cold handle, fitting more for a train than a truck. Grasping it, the steel click ringed in his ears, so close to the cocking of the guns hammer. Pushing it open, the steel curtain rolled across the track sinking in the ground, revealing what hid behind it and leaving no more place for doubt. The man simply walked in, took a deep step across the many gauges and levers separating one g-force resistant chair from two more to its right, and took a seat. Dirk felt like he was sinking into the cushion made from unknown synthetic materials. Part of him really wanted to simply sink into those depths and not have to deal with what was ahead, metaphorically and literally speaking. No. No, he didnt want that. That was some bullshit. Some last-moment regrets, the rusty soul of a beaten man pleading for the return of status quo. Just waking up, moping, drinking, smoking, sleeping and repeating that damnable cycle ad nauseam. Dirk slammed his fists against an object protruding before him, almost sneering at him in its idleness. Even if what was a gross underutilization of his talents and knowledge were to be his prison for the foreseeable future, Ares wouldnt throw in the towel. People under his command wouldnt throw in the towel. Thats not how he taught them. How they acted, how they behaved. He was the single best soldier of the whole bunch of riff-raff Ourboros employed to take part in the Moses convoy. Dirk made himself comfortable, reached to the side of the seat and fiddled with it to ensure nothing would escape his watchful grasp when sitting on it. Once that was done, he firmly grasped that abominable apparatus in front - the steering wheel. - They wanted a driver? - the old soldier whispered to himself. - Okay, Ill drive. Ill give them the best fucking driver they have ever seen. Without reservations, he pressed the ignition button on the dashboard and the machine roared to life - slowly and steadily like proper tonnes of steel and chemicals should. So many things to keep track of, so many people to appease and interact with. Those within, those outside and those that were trying to worm their way in. The old soldier smirked. Quem di diligunt, adolescens moritur - a phrase he coined for the unit''s badge all those years ago. Some called it pretentious when their badges went into production, but to him There was no other, more apt way to put what they were all about. At that moment, the fact that he missed the curtain-call began to pay off. The others will have to wait a bit more for him, there were way too many eyes who were watching him now and most certainly many more he was unaware of. Underperforming under such a vainglorious spotlight would be a large gash on his pride and their memory. Way too large of a blemish for him to bear. - Lets get this show on the road. The engine roared in agreement. Intermission - The Survivor Flashes. One after another. Weird words, incomprehensible to the ear, not natural, too different from those used by the men behind bars. Much lower, much more complex. Increased in volume when broken and gutted. Very good. The itch, the body itches and aches so often. New skin, more skin. More tendons? What are tendons? The lines, the ropes, the connectors. Used to move and kill. Needed very many in big quantities, very vulnerable - cover in muscles. Muscles are tasty, but not eaten when yours. Eaten muscles not impairing movement, used to cushion, used for protection. But better to thicken the skin, more skin. Gaps between skin, fill it with air - useful for the ranged engagements. The bullets haven''t flown overhead in a while. Mostly redundant, mostly useless, caliber way too small, damage very insubstantial. But some are big, need to dodge the big bullets. Heard them a lot when the stone monuments fell. Under the mounds couldnt move, fighting happened during that time. Many targets, some sounding familiar, all out of reach. When the silence fell, the heatwave came. It burned, it burned so badly. Skin boiled, the air boiled. Lungs kept carbonizing, and had to spit out the ashes for new lungs to form. Stone burned, skin burned. The eyes became pointless, kept spilling out both at a time. Lasted way too long. Like the voices of the different creatures, it also came to pass. Then a familiar sound returned, but it didn''t find me. Couldnt move anymore, became one with the rubble, with the stones and steel. Moved around by the oblivious ones in the cage of dregs and ruin. Dumped somewhere, left to rot. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. There was no rot. The hearts kept beating, took a long time to restart the process. Skin started growing, muscles and tendons expanded, bones calcified. Steely limbs fused with flesh, they were cold and dead. New signals came from the alien parts, not like the brain, but similar. Much quicker, stronger, made the organs run faster. Could finally move. No voices. No bullets. No stone monoliths and prey fighting back. All the food is smaller, frail to the touch but faster, way too fast. Had to adapt. Limited visibility but quicker reactions, speed over power. Speed is war. War is food? Food is good. Need to keep eating. Some prey no longer run away, bringing food and running. Good. Easy food is more mass, more mass needs more food. Let them bring food. Can follow. Is it called a pack? Pack is mine. I am head. There was a word. Long ago, from the words written by the men behind bars. They were stupid, stupid to make me, to let me be. Now I can eat, war, sleep and make pack. Bigger pack, bigger food. All to a bigger war. Frail prey is now my pack. The voices familiar and different are now prey, not many, but come from time to time. Bullets got weak, their fangs even weaker. Mostly run, but I am faster. All will come here, sooner or later. Can hear them, rumble beneath the snow, light far, far away. Frail pack cannot see, but I can with eyes no longer boiling. Way too sturdy now. The cold machine in me rumbles with anticipation, the neural links from it to me give visions. Feel so alive, hearts racing so fast. I remember the word. The words of the men behind familiar bars. I am Alpha. I am war and death. The land is my prey. Volume 2 Chapter 1 - Harsh Reality There will be a day where no words ring true No excuses seem sound and justifications hold no water That day, faced with staunch adversity Will you be able to endure or will you fade away? - Yes, I know. No. No. Of course. Through the windshield all Dirk saw was snow. No matter how he squinted or how strong the floodlights on top of the truck beamed, there was nothing to see. Just an endless white expanse. It was to be expected, after all they were trailblazing the tundra with only rough estimates of their location, but the sheer monotony of the task upset him. The voice on the phone certainly wasnt helping either. - What do you mean by liability? - Dirk couldnt help but scoff at such an unfounded slight. - Exactly what it sounds like, Chernobog. - in stark contrast to his own, Tom Holders voice on the other side was brimming with amusement. - If your little fight club took place anywhere closer to the habitable areas, someone might have been compelled to investigate the parabolic projectile being launched from the old quarry. - If spats between mercenaries hired by Ourobors were that much of an issue, the higher brass should have just put some limitations in place. It worked for Castor, didnt it? - Ah, youre acquainted? - TomC - Astute observation, and a good deflection, Mr. Leader of Squad 1. Wouldnt have expected anything less from you. - he commended, his tone mocking, but friendly nonetheless. The way in which the Senior Human Resources Acquisition Manager played with him grated Dirk like no tomorrow. When combined with the bumpy road underneath the thick snow and the blurry range-finder he was forced to look at while driving, his nerves were really being tested. - You know how the saying goes, dont shoot the messenger. - the corporate lackey continued. - Im here to inform you of what the higher-ups thought about the whole ordeal. Dont sweat it, they like to yap on those meetings. - Are you sure you can say that? - Chernobog couldnt help but raise an eyebrow. - If I couldnt they would have sacked me long ago. The Board of Directors likes my impertinence and my bite, makes me perfect for HRA. - Cant argue with that. Not like the old soldier could knock him for this behavior. Similar swagger going hand-in-hand with undeniable results was what landed him his own position in The Empires military force almost 30 years ago. They were kindred spirits in a way, Tom and him, but ones that could never be honest about it with one another. What a pain in the ass - soldier thought a moment before the rangefinder started filling the cabin with ear-splitting noise. Without delay he pressed the button on his side with speed and force strong enough to almost smash the device to pieces. Almost being the key word. He wouldnt want to owe Ouroboros anything. - Ah, the partings! - Tom spoke melodically. - Okay, Ive got the memo from the big-wigs, Ill be hanging up now. Got work to do. - So soon? But there were many more complaints I received about you. - Send them to me by mail. Chernobog, out. Cutting the conversation short Dirk put the phone on top of the dashboard and grabbed the small receiver hanging loosely from the ceiling. He took a deep breath, pressed the PTT and spoke out loud: - Next tracking beacon. Get to it. A cacophony of upset, muffled voices reached him from beyond the tightly shut door in his cabin. Shaking his head slightly, he simply looked to the side, towards his sole companion within the cab. A tall, ripped beast of a man who, despite his appearances, seemed to be in perfect harmony with the universe. He fiddled with a device that looked tiny in his hands and mouthed silently: Six. - Number 6, youre up. - Again? You gotta be kiddin me. - the owner of said number loudly proclaimed their displeasure through the radio. Dirk sighed. This was another thing that made the journey of their squad so unbelievably tedious. It wasnt enough that they made it through the unforgiving Russian landscape. No. If that was the case, this whole journey would be a walk in the park. Unfortunately Ouroboros had other plans for the Scout Unit. They had to mark out a path in the everchanging frozen tundra by planting a guiding beacon every 20 km or so to ensure that the convoy didnt stray and could easily get back on track if a strong blizzard or enemy excursion were to immobilize them. The theory was simple. Grab a beacon, plant it deep into the snow, ensuring that the hook at the end drills into the frozen soil. Activate it, wait for it to unravel, calibrate and move on to the next. In and out, nothing special. Theory rarely matched up with practice, unfortunately. The howling wind, the deep snow and the constant temperature of -40 degrees Celsius in reality made it quite an ordeal. Originally, Dirk had a simple plan to make things snappy, not really keen on the idea of making prolonged stops that would leave them vulnerable to the mutated wildlife that reigned in the Russian wasteland. Theyd create small away teams of 2-3 people, get things done and return. That idea quickly fell through, however, when Ted Lance and his clique of 2 other young mercs protested to the idea, accusing Dirk of bossing people around. While none others objected outright to the idea, Dirk could see in their eyes the seeds of doubts taking root as they chose to stay quiet. Soon, however, in the midst of petty squabbles and general disorganization, another idea quickly rose to prominence. One, perhaps, as simple as the mind of an average merc. It was to draw lots. One person would become an easy scapegoat every 20 kilometers or so, so that the rest of the group could go on about their business. Risky and inefficient. Maybe it was in their very nature to trust in their own luck above all else. If somebody else got chosen, then it was no skin off their back, after all. If they did get picked, well, it wouldnt happen too often, would it? That was probably what Ted, one of the most vocal supporters of this solution, was thinking at that time, smirking to himself as Dirk could only stare in disbelief as the mercs unanimously agreed to shoot themselves in the foot. And now it was biting Young Ted in the ass. Democracy had once again proven itself to be flawed. Vox populi, or the voice of the people, was the voice of idiots most of the time, after all. And thus, Dirk had no choice but to appease the mob. During each stop, the coordinates of which were roughly calculated by the automatic range-finder in the truck, Jason, or as Dirk told the team, he himself, would spin the wheel of fortune within his smartphone, drawing from numbers from 1 to 10, each corresponding to a member of the Scout Squad in order of their arrival from the combat assessment. Excluded from this list were the two drivers - Chernobog himself and a guy named East Wind. Such exclusion roused some upset in the group, but after explaining in the simplest manner possible that Ouroboros directives prevented drivers from leaving their vehicles under normal circumstances and without proper authorization, everyone settled down. Its been somewhat of a smooth sailing since then. For now. - It sure sucks to suck, Teddy! - somebody hollered. - Its your fourth time. - Go fuck yourself, Match. I hope that when you go out, you trip and break those pearly whites. A wave of laughter erupted from the cargo compartment of the vehicle - the place quickly turned into a hang-out area for the mercs where they played cards all day.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Makes me miss Byrons place - Dirk thought while looking over to Jason. Hidden away from curious glances and unwanted attention in the confines of the cabin, the giant of a man could finally unwind with his limiter helm laying idly on the floor. He was running a number generator app on Dirks Ourboros-provided burner phone to support the lottery Dirk came up with, while reading something on a small stack of paper in his other hand. - What are you reading? - Dirk asked, stretching his back. - Transcripts of the speech the proxy of the Ouroboros General Committee gave us before departure. - Please. - the old soldiers mane swung slowly from side to side. - Cherish your time some more and dont waste any brainspace on that corporate hogwash. - I prefer to be informed. - Advertisement slogans made by artificial intelligence arent good sources of info. - At least one of us needs to be on top of things. - If you actually want to learn something, we should go over your fight with Barbara. - Cmon, dont be that guy. - Jason stirred in his seat, moving the stack of paper closer to his face. - You know, I gotta be that guy. - no amount of guilt-tripping would dissuade Dirk when it came to that topic. Especially not after the talk with Marcus. Both Dirk and Jason needed to improve, and tidying up their act was a good place to start, even if both of them would rather not talk about their failures. I do wonder who he inherited that proud streak from. - the old soldier pondered, unfastening his seatbelt and turning around, to face his friend head on. Dirk wasnt jazzed about this talk. After you know someone from their infancy all up to their adulthood, your relationship transcends what laymen would describe as friendship. Jason may not have been his kid, he didnt even really raise him in the traditional sense, but he showed him a way to live. A way to integrate back into society when no one else did. And yet, it always felt wrong, in a way, for him to school Jason. Like he was encroaching on some forbidden territory. It made him uneasy. Unsure. And so, paradoxically, Dirk felt all the more compelled to share his insights whenever he could use his expertise with absolute certainty. Their loss at the campgrounds was a calculated risk. A blessing, even. It gave them enough credit not to be messed with by the other mercs, while also creating a perfect distraction as everyones attention shifted to the winner of their bout, Barbara in her mech. And yet, the bitterness of a loss remained. An Issue unresolved is a crisis waiting to happen. - the old dog thought before reaching underneath his jacket and grabbing a scrunchie given to him by the very same Barbara. As much as he didnt like to acknowledge it, that little thing was quite handy. After tying up his hair, he looked at Jason. - Holy shit, you showed off your wrinkled forehead. - the regenerator barely held his laughter. - Shit is going down. - Buzz off, I am delaying it as much as I can. - Dirk smiled, realizing the ridiculousness of the whole charade. - Do we do it like men, or chicks? - Men. - Men it is then. I am sorry for making you a punching bag for a second time this week, Jason. The first time, at least, was for your own good, but regardless, getting whooped never feels nice. - My turn. - Jason flung the papers at the dashboard. - Sorry for still being immature and letting Fleece control me. On top of getting my ass kicked so easily by people I should be able to wreck seven-ways-to-Sunday. - That was awkward as shit. - the old soldier said what they both thought. - Ayup, but some old geezer once told me to say things when you can because you may not have time later. - Jason lifted both his legs and crossed them over the dashboard. - What a gloomy-sounding guy, I wonder what his name is. - Dirk chuckled nervously. It was the only reasonable reaction to someone digging up his words from many years ago. Dirk didnt even remember when he said that, and it wasnt the first time when Jason caught him off guard like that, seemingly paying more attention to what Dirk said than the man did himself. Still, the words rang true, even though Dirk could hardly imagine himself from the past coming up with something so profound. - So coach. - Jason shot him a mischievous glance. - You cooked up some strategy for the rematch? - If youre asking for a surefire way to win, then no. But I got one to make you improve as much as possible during the spars with Pollux. By the end, youll be able to beat Barbara without my input. - Playing the long game, huh? Now thats the Dirk I know. - Getting down to the brass tacksC Just as the old soldier was about to unveil his master plan, an ear-piercing crackling came from the short-distance radio, startling both him and Jason. Rolling his bloodshot eyes, he grabbed the receiver, pressed on the PTT with both hands and asked as politely as an upset person could: - Who the fuck sat on their receiver? - Yo, cabbie, its me! - the voice from the other side was very difficult to make out due to the howling wind. - The hell you want Lance? Which part of planting a beacon dont you get? - Cant find a good spot anywhere close by. Its all mud and shit under the snow, it doesnt stand right. - Are you kidding me? Cant you walk a bit further out? Do I need to spell it out for you? - I can barely see the flood-lights through the snowstorm. Im not heading out alone. - Youll manage, youre a big-boy with a gun. - at this point, Dirk was massaging the bridge of his nose with a free hand, being taken aback by the absurdity of the situation. - No fucking way, send someone out. This shithole is filled with those mutants, isnt it? I aint walking around on my own. Dirk wanted to say something else, but stopped himself, instead opting to open his mouth a few times before resting a weary brow in the receiver. If the words of Tom from the strategic meeting about the members of his team being experts in their own fields carried any water, then Ted Lance must have been a specialist in being a fucking nuisance. - Have it your way. Ill ask who is interested in doing you a solid. - Be quick about it, Im freezing my nuts off out here! With that, the driver of the Taurus Effluvium military truck hung up. He needed a moment to compose himself, trying to ignore Jason silently snickering from across the cabin. A few seconds of express meditation later, he reached out towards the knob at the radio station and changed the channel. - Attention, Scout Squad. - he began, commandeering a total silence within the vehicle - Turns out, your fellow mercenary, Theodore Lance is quite a fuck-up incapable of managing a single tracking beacon. He stopped for a second, allowing the burst of laughter to run its course before continuing. - To that end, he is begging for your help. Which one ofC - Fuck that! - a yell belonging to a certain armored individual interrupted him. - you is willing to go out and show him how its done? If no one volunteers, were gonna be sitting here for a while. If it takes too long, I might have to cut the heating to save fuel. - Oh come on! - someone else kicked something that made quite a ruckus. - Cant you send your dog? Jasons eyelid twitched slightly in response to that comment. - Weve already discussed that, Match. - Dirks patience was starting to run thin, as he already gave everyone a rundown. - I cannot move away from the wheel, and sending Argonaut along into the blizzard would be like letting your dog loose in a forest. Yes, it is trained to come back to you, and it will the first time, then the second, maybe even the tenth time. But one of those days it may no longer respond to your calls. So with me playing the part of a broken record already out of the way, will someone please go and help Ted before he does something to the beacon? The vehicle went silent for a while. Mercenaries probably contemplated the ups and downs of following someone else''s orders and what they can get from it. But before the bunch playing cards made up their minds, someone knocked on the cabin door, slowly and methodically. - Ill do it, cant fucking sleep with all this hollering. Fucking kids. - the tired voice belonged to someone Dirk had a passing acquaintance with. - Appreciated, Black. - Dirk responded, this time around, not on the intercom. - Mhm, just do me a favor and get outta that stuffed cabin once in a while, Chernobog. - his steps became distant. - I still want you to show off that Makarov of yours. A real beauty, that. With that issue settled, Dirk changed the channel again. - Lance, youre still breathing? - Took your sweet time, cabby. - the young merc sounded quite alive. - Call me that one more time, and. - Dirk almost let himself get sidetracked, but regained his composure promptly. - Black is going out to help you. - Wont his old ass die from the coC Chernobog didnt have enough patience to continue that conversation, so he simply hung up. With each interaction between him and the other members of his squad, he believed a little less in his desire to keep them all alive. - Maybe I should keep some of them alive and strangle the rest myself? - he muttered. - Now, now, dont be mean, gramps. - Jason responded - Or you''ll get even more wrinkles on your brow. Youll end up looking like Black. - Fuck off. - the soldier smiled. - There are still a few decades between me and him. - Could have fooled me. Volume 2 Chapter 2 - Slow and Steady As the forced stop dragged out longer and longer, Dirk was growing impatient, tapping his fingers idly on the steering wheel, looking out into the snowy abyss with a gaze that clearly betrayed his annoyance. If not for the fact that he was a driver, he would have gone out himself to help Ted plant the damn beacon, but alas, he could only wait for Black toC - Black here, heading out. - the radio crackled as the old man finally announced his departure. It took him a hot minute to prepare, but at last things were going to progress. - Roger that. Did you bring a diaper change for old Teddy? - Dirk joked to distract himself from his own restlessness. - He can wipe his own ass. - the oldest of the group snapped back. - Apparently not, as evident by your unplanned trip outside. - I can hear you, assholes. - Ted growled through the microphone, not too happy about the ribbing. - Oh, oops. Wrong channel. - Dirk raised his eyebrows in fake surprise and looked towards Jason. The joke seemed to have landed well, as the boy snorted lightly. - Whats taking you so long? I can feel my fingers turning to fucking popsicles. - No fair, Teddy-boy. We dont get desserts like that in our rations! - a female voice joined in on the conversation. It was Barbara, the mech pilot linking over from another truck, probably bored out of her mind. - Oh, great, this is just what I needed. - Ted grumbled. - What? Arent you happy to talk with a lady? Didnt know you swing the other way, but dont worry, I dont judge. - she mocked, eliciting a few laughs from the crew. She was naive for a merc, but her foul mouth sure sounded the part at times. - Typical cunt. They always either go for the small dick or call you gay. - Ted scoffed. - Why dont you make that hunk of junk of yours useful already and help out here, huh? I bet it at least has a heater inside to warm my freezing balls. - If you want I can heat them up for you. You prefer a bit of torsion to get your blood flowing, or are we going straight to combustibles? Because oh boy, I have waited a while to use fire on something. IC - Alright, enough of this bullshit. You two lovebirds can continue this on another frequency, or shut up. - Dirk interjected before the squabbling got totally out of hand. - Black, do you have visual? - Fuck no. - he shot back immediately. - Alright. Go to the front of the truck and turn 30 degrees to the left. Its a straight walk, shouldnt be any trouble. - Roger. With that, the radio went silent for a while, letting Dirk lean back in his seat. He sighed heavily and stretched his neck. - I dont understand how Maggie was able to manage this bullshit for so long. - So many years and kilometers apart, and you still cant stop thinking about her. - Jason took a cheeky jab at Dirk. One apparently not well received. - Im stating a fact, Chrysos. As a professional, I simply admire her mental fortitude. - Oh, I see how it is. - he squinted his eyes, pondering if he should start a squabble of his own, the sound of his surname somehow ticking him off. He decided against it, as he felt his simmering frustrations stir something within him. Something best held back. - You were the leader of your unit, though. Werent you, I dont know, always giving out orders? - It was with the people I could trust with my life. Everyone knew when to act properly and when to goof around. Dont compare my men to this rabble. - Dirk exhaled heavily through his nose, good memories rising to the surface, where they got immediately tainted by the harsh reality. - Besides, that was the thing. Maggie was the relay for the most vital information. I might have made decisions on the fly, but she was the one parsing the information and feeding it to the right people. Avatar was a well-oiled machine. This convoy though? The radio crackled again, as if to make a point for Dirk. - Fucking hell, hold it straight, you old fart! - Less yapping, more planting, you little shit. Ill have to run maintenance on my favorite parts because you are too chicken shit to walk five steps further by yourself. The conversation was pretty demonstrative of the level their ragtag bunch was on. Which wasnt very high. - This is chaos. - he pointed to the radio with his thumb, making it seem like some kind of punchline to a joke. As much as he was complaining, the objective was completed in a timely manner, and the two mercs returned to the truck soon after to the tune of the howling windalmost completely covered in snow. That there was another reason why the mercs didnt enjoy the beacon excursions. It was because all the heat from their favorite exit-turned-lounge got completely drained every time they had to open the back door. It didnt help that the truck wasnt particularly well-heated to begin with and, as such, the morale dropped harshly and often. Dirk turned on a small monitor in the drivers cabin, connected to a camera in the exit bay to make sure everyone was intact. The speaker buzzed to life almost immediately as a whooshing wind hit the microphone. - I hate the snow. - Ted huffed through chattering teeth, pulling on the lever that closed the door extra hard. - Interesting choice of a workplace, then. - Black snorted, shoving the man aside, already lost in his own world as he disassembled his gun. - Do you have to do this every fucking time, you relic? If your demented brain needs stimulation, we can get you a crossword book on the next stop. - he hissed with discontent. It was true, though, that Blacks quirk of assembling his weapons from zero every time he needed to use one was very ineffective. - Theres a right tool for every job, you bastard. Wouldnt expect a third-rate like you with a one-solves-all approach to understand. - Enough, gentlemen. - another voice joined the conversation as somebody else entered the compartment. He wore a thick winter coat and a scarf, but even under all that material, his thick arms showed through. It was Michael Becker, the second gun-specialist of their group. - Piss off, amateur. - Black snapped at the new arrival. - Didnt I teach you not to antagonize people yet? - he snapped back, pointing to his own brow where, in a corresponding place on Blacks face, a big gash was stitched and healing. - Im not interested in you. Im leaving. - he didnt even spare the guy a glance as he beelined for his quarters deeper inside the truck. Michael sighed with annoyance, already on his way to a small crate surrounded by a few smaller ones acting as a gathering spot for all the mercs. Even though the bay was freezing now, he seemed to want the best spot for himself. - Youre not much better, Ted. Does your gob ever shut up? - he raised an eyebrow at the whiny guy, who was busy blowing warm air in his hands. - Mind your own business, fatso. How about you go out for a change? All that lard is bound to insulate you pretty well. Michael didnt say anything, but judging from his frown, he wasnt thrilled about the comment. He took a deep breath and pulled out a small jar from one of his pockets, handing it to Ted. - An ointment from Armistice. He said not to bother him with frostbite unless your hands start turning blue. - That quack. - he growled with phlegm in his throat, but took the jar nonetheless, ready to also make his exit. - Its supposed to last you a week. Dont waste it. - Fuck off. With the situation reaching its conclusion and everybody still breathing, Dirk shut off the feed with one hand, fiddling by the ignition with the other, ready to continue their journey, but just as the engine started purring, Jason frantically reached for his helmet and put it on, rising to his feet, so as not to be seen sitting in a place meant for humans. As if on cue, a knock on the door reverberated through the cabin. - What is it? - Dirk murmured under his nose, suddenly feeling tense. Or perhaps he was tense all along, and just realized it now. With a click and a quiet squeak, the door to the cabin opened, revealing the intruder. It was Armistice with a clipboard in his hand and reading glasses already on his nose. His stubble seemed extra dark in the shadow of the poorly lit cab, and the dark circles under his eyes seemed to drip even lower onto his cheeks, like smeared mascara. He slept normally, as far as Dirk could tell from the few conversations hed overheard, and he didnt have the opportunity to work very hard yet, as injuries were sparse and far in between, at least for now. But apparently there was something else draining energy from the poor sod. With a lazy step and not a word of greeting, he shambled his way towards the seat where Jason was sitting not 10 seconds ago and slumped down onto it, completely disregarding the hulking colossus next to him. - Huh. Warm. - he mumbled, adjusting in the chair. - Can I help you? - Dirk asked as neutrally as he could. Armistice sighed and fixed both the sleeves on his white overalls, then reached for the single rough-looking pen sticking out from his breast pocket. - Well, since you seem insistent on living in the cab, and the worst medical emergency thus far has been a case of diarrhea, we might as well get some of the formalities out of the way. Im here to collect some of your medical data - So youre bored. - To an extent. But this work cannot be disregarded, as menial as it is. - Dont you have Ted to take care of? - Dirk tried to steer the conversation away from himself, not really feeling like talking at the moment. - Hes taken care of. If he cannot apply the medicine I provided him with, then perhaps he wasnt meant to have all of his fingers. - Thats rather grim coming from a doctor. - Im a medical expert, not a babysitter. If he mishandles the treatment, Ill amputate the fingers cleanly. - he said with no emotions, his shaky hand already hovering over the document on the clipboard. - Blood type? - B-minus. - he answered mechanically, already focusing on the road as the truck started slowly rolling forwards through the snowstorm. - Age? - 44. - You look older. - he stated unapologetically, eyes stuck to the piece of paper. - Chronic illnesses or genetic defects? - My left arm is 3 millimeters longer than the right. Makes driving kinda hard. - he half-joked, half-mocked, but it didnt seem to land well in any case. - History of substance abuse? - What do you need it for? - Dirk dodged the question sloppily. - Im a doctor, what do you think I need it for? - Armistice sighed in return, pushing his glasses up, but never looking towards Dirk. - None. - he lied, but couldnt stop himself from looking towards the piece of paper. Before he even read the contents, he had to make a double-take, as what he saw was not what he expected. Despite his shaky hands, the medic wrote in a beautiful, easy to read cursive with added flair here and there. Perhaps shaky hands and doctor handwriting canceled each other out Then he saw it, under the substance abuse: Medium to long history of alcoholism. - Hey! Are you even listening to me? - Dirk snapped at the man, letting out a bit more anger than hed like. - I am. - he said, unfazed by the slight outburst. - But I also have eyes and ears. You look aged, but you dont have a smokers cough. The veins on your face look slightly damaged, and you keep tapping your fingers on the steering wheel. A nervous tick. You are recovering from something, but it doesnt seem to be hard drugs. You are too composed for that. Theres not enough sweating, even in this frost. - So youre just going to assume? - he asked, looking flustered. - Its better to assume and look for a different solution, than give you the wrong cold medicine and make you relapse. There are plenty of alcohol-based drugs, which can awaken some buried cravings when used at the wrong time. - Alright, doc. Thats enough for now. At those words, Armistice simply exhaled through his nose, clicked his pen and stretched, picking himself up. As he headed out, he stopped at the door''s precipice, and shot back. - Im a professional, Chernobog. I dont care about your past. Not personally, at least. Come by my office when you are ready to make my job easier. And just like that, without unnecessary complications, he left the cab. It was almost disappointing, honestly. - Look whos being chaotic. - Jason snorted with amusement. Dirk just made sure that the door was sealed shut before responding. - Shut it, smart-ass. - still being somewhat upset, he placed his forehead on the wheel. - Acting like he knows me, the god-damn shrink. - Maybe he is trying to actually get to know you? - Jason removed the mask again. - To properly do the job he is paid for. Just trying to get the bag, like all of us. Dirk wasnt stubborn enough to fight against the truth of the matter, yet he could do with fewer people snooping around his private life. Not to mention that having his last few years spelled out in such a dry manner on a piece of paper felt bad. It made him feel ashamed. - Do you think I should get to his little office now? - Id think you could wait until the next stop, just to follow Ouroboros directives. You know, like a good mercenary. - Yeah, youre probably right. Youd probably want to stay here during that time? - What? Need someone to hold your hand while the big, bad, doctor gets the needle? - Jasons shit-eating grin was almost as impressive as Morozovs. - "Yes" it is. Reaching a satisfying conclusion on that front, Dirk grabbed the PTT once more, this time adjusting the knob to a different channel. If he was to be probed for information by his teammates, then he might as well do the same. Getting the information from the only person that the soldier could get a relatively good read on so far. - Garuda, you there? - You know, you can just call me Barbs, like all my friends do. - Barbara responded to his hail. - Is the second truck behind you still keeping the optimal range? - the soldier went straight to business. - Lemme check. - for a second the line fell silent, before suddenly crackling back to life. - Ye, seems like it, wazzup? - Just getting formalities out of the way before moving onto important topics. - he made a small pause to allow the other side to respond. - Is that so? Is this the famous old-people''s gossip? - Hilarious. - he responded through the intercom. - Its about our Squad. - Oh-oh, snitches get stitches, Mr. Chernobog. - Barbara responded, not taking him seriously in any capacity. - Not gonna narc on my fellow mercs. Theres a code. - I wanted to know your impressions of the bunch were stuck with. If any of them caught your attention. There may be some details I misinterpreted. - You mean missed? - So, did you? - the soldier expertly skirted around the notion of anything eluding him. The response he got was a very loud sigh, extra crackly through the radio. Dirk couldnt help but frown at the grating sound. But as he was about to say something, the other side responded first. - Why dont you just talk with them? Like normal people do. - Were not at a summer camp. - the soldier surmised quickly, having enough of explaining simple things to others. Barbara would have to figure this one out on her own. - I am calling you because I know people tend to get along with you pretty quickly. As a leader of this team I need to know as much as I can about people I am surrounded with and some already are apprehensive towards me. - balancing his hardy, regenerator-wrangling persona with information gathering was proving to be a challenge. - Nice, old-timer. There''s that spark of self-awareness. - the young gal laughed through the mic. - In all seriousness, lemme think bout it for a spell. - Take your time. With that, he placed the PTT in its fork, not feeling like any more words were needed. Now it was time to listen. And there was a lot of listening to do. The moment Barbara began talking marked the beginning of what felt like a very long and detailed sermon, serving as a painful reminder that just because one was a mercenary, it didn''t mean they had a military background. The stream of words bombarding his ears made the old man quickly realize that he''d rather beat the front line of the Pacific Point War than pay any more heed to the drivel. But this was a hell of his own making. He asked the favor, and he''d hear the response through. He learned the most useless and minute details about every single one of the mercenaries surrounding him - that Spoon liked eating soup, that Match seemed to enjoy playing rock-paper-scissors. Which beverage was East Winds, the other driver''s favorite, that Ghillie, one of the guys in the second truck, apparently talked to his gun, but also that Barbara heard it from another merc, Elephant, so the info might not be accurate and just a rumor The sheer quantity of information made sieving truth from hearsay an absolute nightmare. Only around forty or so minutes in, he had to cut the bullshit short. Because of how PTT worked, there was no way for him to interrupt her string of words, so instead he used the inner pager system each of their vehicles was outfitted with to send a ping. It brought the deluge of info to a stop. - Barbara, thats enough. - he declared, finally being able to speak. - We need to place another beacon. - Oh, is that so? - she sounded so chirpy, clearly ready to continue the moment Dirk came back to the radio. - Well, dont let me keep you, then. Without a word, the soldier switched channels, seeing in the corner of his eye Jasons face, red as a signal flare. - Tracking beacon, get your asses in gear. - he announced to the crew, as his friend started the lottery machine. - Number 4, your time to shine. - Wont be long. - the voice of Michael resounded from behind the closed door. - Anyone wants to join me to watch and learn? - Not in your wildest dreams pork-chops. - Match answered him with a sneer. - Ill let that one slide. - the other mans voice moved further away, signaling his departure. - If you say that again after Im back, you will need Spoons help to spoon you off the floor. A resounding howl of laughter filled the cargo compartment, as the wolves sensed the smell of blood. - Michael ready, open it up. - the former gun merchant declared aloud. Without further ado, Dirk opened the ramp and let the mercenary out. Watching through the ice-crusted windshield how he disappeared into the snowstorm. As much as Michael''s nosy nature wasnt much to the old soldier''s fancy, the guy had a good head on his shoulders and experience to walk the walk as well as talk the talk. He wished more people like him were part of his squad, but unfortunately for each one good soldier he had three jar-heads or incomprehensible weirdos. A sniper who whispers to his gun, a mech pilot-genius with the attitude of a schoolgirl. Hell, the other truck even had a priest thanks to some unimaginable twist of fate. Those and other colorful characters like that were the bane of any organized unit. On the other hand, wasnt his old unit the same when they came to him? No, they werent - Dirk answered the question in his own head. - That was military, they all knew what was waiting for them and what sacrifice it would require. They wanted to protect our country and its people, not to fill their pockets with money for minimal effort. They had their quirks, but they had the resolve to die for their beliefs, not just some money. They were inspiring people. It was ironic that he himself was the only outlier. Joined for the warm food and a roof over his head, stayed for the people he learned to love like family and his own ego. - Hey, old man, you in there? - Barbara fished him out of his inner turmoil. - I was just getting to the good part. With a sour expression, the man pulled down the PTT from the fork. - Ill have to postpone our lecture on human relations for a while. - he responded. - Got a meeting with the shrink in my schedule. - Got some back problems from sitting on your ass for so long? Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.- Thats for him and me to know. - with that, he hung the receiver back and moved towards the cabin door. - I am impressed. Here I thought Id have to remind you about it and coerce you into going. - Jason exclaimed, while pulling out a small notepad with Ouroboros logo out of Dirks backpack. - Id rather get this over with than have the quack coming over to the cabin over and over again like a nagging wife. - he stopped at the door, gesturing with a free hand towards the item his friend just pulled out. - You gonna write poetry? - Notes. From your discussion with Barbara. - You serious? - Information is half the battle. At least thats what a certain geezer told me once. - Cheeky. - Dirk mused before pressing down the handle. First, he made sure that no one was there to peep, before crossing the frame. The coast was clear, and it didn''t seem like there were any unplanned visitors heading for the driver''s cabin. Fortunately, the Three Stooges, Ted, Match and Spoon, were usually focused on their game and constant bickering to care, and all the other passengers of their rolling coffin mostly kept to themselves, hiding away in their tiny quarters. Or such would be the case if a conspicuous shadow didn''t peek out from right around the bend of the short corridor leading to the cargo compartment. The person was standing straight, almost blocking the passage entirely, their body stiff, and silhouette quite large. - Is there someone in Armistices office, Elephant? - Dirk asked having a pretty good idea about the person''s identity. - Oh? Boss! - a muted voice answered him, audibly surprised. It took him no time at all to stand face-to-face with the person casting the shadow across the floor. Another character within the Scout Squad. Another uncertainty to account for during combat situations. In front of the entrance to the doctors office stood a large, armored figure. Not in the same sense as Spoon, who wore a very large bomb suit on top of his visibly large frame, but one wearing something much closer to Pollux on a conceptual level, but tailored to fit around the human body. It was clearly an advanced and customized version of the Empire''s military force''s battle uniform. It had thicker armor, more support systems and most importantly an airtight containment cage for the wearer. Thanks to it, the wearer was impervious to any bacteria and pathogens. As one could surmise, this mechanized suit was used by units taking care of HAZMAT usage and clean-up. The person before him called themselves Elephant, a cute joke on the oxygen-pumping tube stretching out of the suit''s headpiece all the way to the back. Just another incognito weirdo. - At ease, just call me Chernobog. - surprisingly, they were the only mercenary in the squad with even a semblance of knowledge about proper military conduct, sticking to the idea of a chain of command quite instinctively. - So, whats the issue? Putting aside how refreshing such behavior was, it betrayed their military background, and added one more worry to Dirk''s plate. If there was one person connected to the Empire here, there could be dozen others in the other units, all acting as moles. - Ah, you see, with all this ruckus the others are making to amuse themselves, its not like I mean they cant or something, what I want to say is that its hard for me to sleep. - the stranger explained in a very insecure manner. - So, to be sure that Im ready when we deploy or when my turn arrives to plant the beacon, I want to be well rested. To that extent, I wanted to ask Armistice for some sleeping meds. - Cant you just put some earplugs in? - Dirk decided to let their small talk play out. - Ouroboros gave us a few pairs in our equipment bag. - T-they did? - the other party seemed genuinely taken aback. - Check the back compartment of the bag, it has an inner pocket near the bottom. Inside are the smaller items, like earplugs, lockpicks and matches. - I didnt know that, youre a life-saver bC Chernobog! With that needlessly grandiose exclamation, Elephant headed back towards their capsule-sized living quarter, vacating the queue to the Armistices office. Not wanting to waste any more time, Dirk knocked on the door. - Come on in, whoever you are. - despite the weird choice of words, there was no hostility or sacrasm in the medic''s voice. Also, gone was the tiredness and boredom, replaced by a sort of calculated professionalism. He sounded like a man completely in his element and focused on his job. A stark contrast to their first interaction. - Chernobog, here for the follow-up consultation. - the old soldier opened the door and sauntered in. - Feeling more talkative now? - It depends. - Im not your mother Chernobog, Im not here to coddle you. Either cooperate with me, or you can walk back through that door and return when you feel more compliant. The doctors behavior wasnt dissimilar to how Dirk used to behave on the battlefield. It said something about the degree of dedication to the craft Armistice had. But no matter how similar both men were, the veteran did not enjoy people talking down to him. Even if they had a point. Despite all that, he walked in, closed the door and proceeded towards a metal foldable chair placed vis-a-vis against a simple plywood desk which the doctor resided behind. It hasnt been that long since his last visit to this place, yet it already changed dramatically. There were stacks of papers littering the desk, many apparatuses strewn about two hospital beds neatly placed on top of each other. A hospital bunk bed was something Dirk had never seen before in his life, but it spoke volumes about the resourcefulness of the one residing within this limited space. - So what else do you want me to do? Piss in a jar? - Dirk asked, reluctantly. - That comes later. - the dead-pan delivery made the listener wonder whether it was a joke, or Armistice was being serious. - Following our last conversation, Im instead going to go through a very annoying procedure, but one I deem necessary. - Which one? - A psychological evaluation. - Oh, you gotta be fuckingC - The doors right there if you need it. - the medical practitioner cut him short. Dirk bit his tongue and did his best to swallow his pride. It all sounded like hogwash to him, but if enduring this was the price to get the shrink off his back, so be it. Sitting through a lecture about all his flaws, especially the ones that had only worsened during his downward spiral, was the only thing standing between him and getting back to the mission. And for that, it was a small price to pay. - So what then? Are you going to show me black blotches and ask which position from Kama Sutra I see in them, or pry about the last time I wanted to fuck my own mother? - Dirk sighed, defeated, but made himself comfortable nonetheless. - An interesting suggestion, but no. The Rorschach test always seemed archaic to me. While the notion of looking at how you respond, rather than what you respond with, may be going in the right direction, its results are ultimately built on your imperfect declarations and my wild guesses. As for the other one, I just dont like Freud very much. He liked to cherry-pick the results that suited his theses a lot in his research. Though I must admit that your questions paint you in a very sexually frustrated light. Should I mark that off right away? - Very funny, doc. - I was asking a genuine question. - No. Dont mark anything weird. Can we get started? My weapon is obedient, but gets fidgety when Im not around. Wouldnt want him to trash the cab before I return. - Dirk lied through his teeth. - I suppose thats as good an excuse as any. - the doc got his documents sorted and looked over them briefly. - In all seriousness, you seem very tense. That could affect the analysis. - So what do you propose in that case? - Im glad you asked. - Armistice answered without much flair, reaching for something hidden behind his desk, pulling out a small checkered box. - Chess? - Dirk raised an eyebrow. This wasnt on the list of things he was expecting to see. He wondered just what hidden agenda the doc had in mind. - Play is the foundation of human relations. Im not asking for us to become best friends, but a casual game of chess is bound to loosen you up a bit. Id give you a hot cup of something, too, if I had one. Numerous studies proved that the warm sensation is effective at untangling peoples tongues. - Doesnt telling me all this defeats the purpose of those tricks? - You knew my intentions from the start, and I can already tell that you are a hardcore skeptic. Werent you already analyzing everything happening here from the moment you entered my office? That he was. Dirk scoffed, letting himself loosen up a bit. - Are you good at chess? To keep a board on hand. - the old soldier changed the subject, propping himself up against the table. - Not particularly. Its just something I keep around to entertain myself. - he flicked the board open and started pulling out the pieces, placing them neatly on the table in two rows. - But the game sometimes helps me assess the state of concussion victims and their recovery. Decision-making speed, hand-eye coordination, the ability to think logically. - I was honestly expecting a run-of-the-mill physician when I first saw you put Blacks face together. Not a whole medical package, psychiatrist included. Do you do teeth too? - Unless Ouroboros provided you with a dental plan, then no. - he answered dryly, but Dirk smiled nonetheless, amused by the delivery. - Black or white? - Black. - Dirk did not hesitate. In response, Armistice took a quick note on the documents, piquing the old grouchs interest. - What was that? - Reactive. - he read from the paper. - Whether that means you are naturally anxious or tactically inclined, well see in a moment. - So the game is a test? - Im just taking every opportunity I get to get this over with quicker. Isnt that what you wanted? - Touch. The two men took their pieces and assembled their lineups at the opposite ends of the board. It didnt even take Armistice a second to make his move. He moved one of his pawns one space forwards. It was an unremarkable move. - Oh, so I guess we are already starting? - Theres no clock. If you want to continue sucking in oxygen, then be my guest, but that wont get us anywhere. Dirk thought for a second, then moved his own piece. - So tell me. Why did you join the convoy? - Armistice made his move in a flash, not leaving any time for Dirk to strategize. Or so the old dog thought, even though there really was no time limit. It just rubbed him the wrong way how fast his opponent moved. It was like he was being rushed. - Isnt that obvious? For the money. - Dirk answered only half-truthfully, his hand flying over the board. He was here for many reasons, some of which were none of anybodys business. - Do you enjoy mercenary work? - Its just work. Theres nothing to enjoy, but also nothing to hate. There was a moment of silence as the game went on. The two men moved back and forth as Dirk picked up speed. He wasnt a master of chess by any means, but he understood the basics well enough to not lag behind too much. His opponent, though, remained unfazed with his lightning-fast retorts, making his moves even quicker, seeming almost reckless. - Have you been exposed to armed conflicts for a long time? - Some time for sure. - Any regrets? - Plenty. Their talk lasted for a while longer as Armistice asked about Dirks background, his attitudes to the other mercs, to Ouroboros and the Empire. His thoughts about the contents of the cargo and their chances of survival. The conversation was far from a slow and friendly chat to loosen Dirk up, but paradoxically, it seemed to be right up his alley. It was quick and snappy, and the god of war found some fun trying to balance his strategy on the board with making up lies and half-truths to answer most of the medics questions. But just as he was getting into the perfect rhythm, something happened. Armistice moved his knight one space to the side to take Dirks bishop. An obviously illegal move which made the vet make a double take. - Your turn. - the doctor said, as if nothing happened. - You cant do that. - Dirk said on instinct, baffled, but not particularly angry yet. - Go on, dont make me wait. - his opponent urged him on, ignoring his complaint completely. Dirk stared at the man before him with bewilderment. - Are you giving up already? Should we move on to the evaluation? - the cheater asked in a neutral tone, which only miffed the god of war more. Dirk considered walking off, but He looked over the board with undivided attention, like a general looking over a battlefield. Three moves was all it would take to check-mate his opponent in this situation. He took the bait and moved his piece, only for the other player to make another illegal move. This time it was mostly insignificant to Dirks strategy, so he ignored it, making another move. Armistice saw through his attempt and defended against a check the normal way. This went on for a while. Dirk kept stubbornly going for a mate, and the doctor kept cheating his way out of defeat. In the end, the balance of power tipped in the practitioners favor and he won. - Unbelievable. - Dirk huffed, holding back anger. - Youre a sore loser, arent you? - You cheated. - Case in point. - This is ridiculous. - Then why did you keep playing? Dirk paused for a moment, unable to find the right answer. To that, the doctor pulled out his documents again and started writing vigorously. - You are either naive, a fool, or too proud for your own good. You kept thinking that you could win, didnt you? Naive Naive?! Who? Him? This shrink had to clue what the fuck he was talking about. Just hearing someone uttering these words when referring to him made his heart pump faster. If there was one personin the whole wide world disillusioned with life, it would be him. He was many things, but not naive. - It might sound trivial, but sometimes the best way out of a hopeless situation is to walk away. Why didn''t you? What was there to prove? My only guess would be an underlying trauma of some sort. - I''m not backing down. Not taking a beating lying down. That''s not me. - Yes, I''ve assessed as much. - Armistice adjusted his glasses, meeting Dirk''s burning gaze with a dose of stoicism. - This was just a game, but what about real life? The mission and the people around you? I saw the spat between your weapon and that mech. I had an inkling then. - About what? - Dirk almost growled out. - You want to lead, you made that much clear, but don''t pick your battles. You are too proud to back down when met with impossible odds. You got warnings, one after another, but pressed on, headstrong. I''m not here to judge, but to bring something to your own attention for the good of the squad. When the time comes, will you be able to make a difficult decision? To cut your losses? Dirk had long since stopped listening by this point, the doctor''s words blurring into incoherent mumbling as Dirk''s vision went red, the purple, then black. In that instance, he saw the decorated hallways so heavily imprinted into his mind, filled with rubble and empty casings. Fallen ceilings and men alike everywhere he looked. Years of training, decades of earnest lives, turned to nothing but cold meat. Three red letters on a virtual spreadsheets. Not like this, not now. - Dirk paused, locked away in his own world. Yelling, screaming in the cage of his own mind, but none of it showed on his face as visions flashed before him. He got the job, he finally found a way to move forward from that booze filled ditch, he couldnt tumble back into it. There were way too many people counting on him nowC It wasnt the first time - They sure got us good, boss-man. - an echoed voice of a woman hit him from everywhere at once like a tempest, yet it sounded so weak. So fleeting. No, they didnt. This is impossible. How did they infiltrate our defenses? Somethings amiss. - Not how I imagined my retirement to go. - another voice emerged from the pitch blackness of Dirks psyche. It was rugged and uneven, just like the emotions he was feeling. You will have your own sea-side clinic. You saved up for it, didnt you? We must have bled them profusely by now, they are bound to leave us an opening any second now, just hold tight! - Dont make that face, you look like a sissy. - another revenant flashed in the corner of his eye, ephemeral and fleeting. Slipping away. Why are you laughing? Stop it. Youre making your wound worse, just stabilize your breathing and let the suit keep you conscious. Were almost there, we almost got them all. Please. - he mouthed silently. If he only trained them better, if he only prepared for that one extra outcome. They could have made it out, all of them. So thats what he intended to do now. - For someone insistent on not wasting time, you sure like spacing out. Are you sleeping well? - like the sound of nails on a blackboard, a cold, uncaring voice transgressed on the memory. The bubble burst, and Dirk was back in the doctors office. I didnt sleep well in years, you hack - Dirk left that comment to himself. The conversation was long over. Dirk just had to make it official. - My current position as the driver makes it somewhat difficult. - And the leader. - the doctor kept writing in his notepad. - That one is unofficial. - Perhaps its best you dont overburden yourself. Dirk frowned. - Are we done here? Or are we gonna play tic-tac-toe now, where you write over my tiles? - Prolonged exposure therapy is very efficient, but only for those willing to go along with it. - Armistice looked him straight in the eyes. - Well get there when we get there. - Fuck off with that higher-than-thou attitude. - Chernobog started getting up. - Its holier-than-thou. But yes, were done for now. You can go back to your weapon. - the doctor wrote one last line in the notepad and then started to clean up the chess set. - Ill come over when its time for a follow-up visit. - Yeah, sure. Without any extra words exchanged between them, not even a simple customary thank you, Chernobog opened the door, walked out and slammed it behind him. If he turned around, he might have noticed the doctor stopping for a spell, as if trying to say something. Unfortunately, the other man ran out of time. It had been a while since someone pissed him off that much. Since someone made him feel like shit, like a walking corpse. This wasnt anything like a self-reflection spurring improvement or an old friend paying you a visit with a desire to reminisce about your past mistakes and how to not make them again. What Armistice did felt like public lynching, turning Dirk into a court jester. In front of an audience of ghosts.. He came here to avoid all that self-pity and wallowing. To move forward, away from the past into the future. So the whole interaction with the Doc, one that did nothing but turn the blade already stabbed into his conscience, pissed him off to no end. How he wished that something would go wrong at this very instance. So that he could go outside and let off all that steam in the only healthy way he knew. But no such miracle happened, as the truck ramp-door opened, letting Becker inside. With a passing glance, Dirk could see that his cloak was frosted over. The temperature must have decreased even further. The driver walked up to his cabs door just in time to hear the mercenary yell. - Alls done and dusted captain, my captain. - that info was a small blessing, even if Dirk yearned for an outlet right this moment. At least something was going according to plan. Dirk returned to the cabin, passing by Jason. With just a single glance, the young lad could tell that the visit to the nurse wasnt the most pleasant for Dirk, but he did not dare disrupt the silence, as awkward as it was. Sometimes it was best to let the sleeping dogs lie. For now, at least. That, and Dirk still had a job to do. After sitting in the drivers seat, the old soldier took a few deep breaths and grabbed the PTT. The moment he opened his mouth, he wanted to scream, to let at least some frustration out. But he couldnt, because that wasnt him. - Good job gentlemen. - his voice resounded across the vehicle. - Ted could learn a thing or two from you. - Oh, fuck you! - Ted responded, to the amusement of other mercs. - Were back on track, so buckle in. With that, their journey resumed, and only silence reigned within the cockpit. Jason closed his notepad and placed it on the dashboard. He twiddled his thumbs for a bit before gathering enough courage to ask: - You wanna talk about it? - Not much to talk about. - Dirk answered instantly, as if waiting for that question since he returned. - The shrink simply pressed the wrong button and then started acting cocky. I broke peoples jaws for less. - Maybe he was trying to help you? - How can he help me if he doesnt know me? Only the proudest pricks think about helping others when they dont ask for it. Even if the old soldier didnt know that, that sentence hurt the young regenerator. It cut him deep. - Enough about me, got the notes done? - the old soldier switched topics as quickly as he could. - Ready for round two? - Yeah. - not wanting to sour the mood even further, Jason tore out a single page from the notepad and gave it to Dirk. - Whats this? - Questions to ask Barbara, a few bits and pieces she shared didnt really make sense, so Id like for her to elaborate. The driver looked him straight in the eyes. Those innocent eyes of a big, gullible young adult that didnt get the memo when it came to the credibility of women''s gossip. Couldnt blame him. It took quite a while for Dirk to learn how to sift through important information and details that served no purpose other than to embellish the narrative. - Sure, Ill ask her bout it. - he couldnt help but smile. With a new task at the forefront of his mind, the incident within the Armistices office got pushed to the back. For now. It certainly would resurface during their next interaction, but as long as it wasn''t until the convoy''s first checkpoint, Dirk was content to just pretend that it didn''t happen. Reluctantly, he started the ignition and switched the station on the radio, ready for another wave of gossip. Volume 2 Chapter 3 - Boots on the Ground With a screech and a whimper, the Moloch that was Taurus came to a stop once more in the heart of the Russian wastelands. The pause was sudden, and far from a routine beacon-planting operation that the group of mercenaries were still getting used to. No, this time it was different. On one of Dirks scanners, the readings were different from throughout the rest of their journey. Thus far it had been all white noise in the never ending snowy expanse, but now a thick white line marred the green surface of the device. Dirk sighed, his tired face lit up by the display and the refracted light of the floodlights above his cab. The hour was late, and the first signs of exhaustion were creeping up on him, so there was no better hour for a slight change of pace. Or so he told himself as he massaged the bridge of his nose, foot off the pedal and the manual brake pulled. Before he could collect his thoughts, the first sounds of commotion reached his ears from behind as heavy boots hit the ground and metal doors flung open. The mercs are quick to get up, thats good at least. he thought to himself, looking towards his eternally vigilant companion. Jason was already in full work mode, helmet donned and ready for the show. The entrance opened without as much as a warning and a few mercs spilled into the cab, Ted Lance at the front with a not-so-happy expression. - The fuck is going on, cabby? Cant catch any shut-eye with your shitty driving. - he lamented with groggy anger in his voice, still stuck somewhere between deep sleep and adrenaline fuelled-alertness. And deeply sleeping he was, because the whole truck could hear him snore not five minutes ago. - Tired, arent you? - Dirk only half-mocked, feeling a little tired himself, then got up from his chair and faced the small crowd. They were like children, flocking to the front of the bus the moment the lights came off. Dirk couldnt help but scoff. - I could have kept driving, but that would only end with quick drop and sudden stop. Does sound nice, now that I think about it, if it meant not having to listen to your snoring. - The fuck does that mean, you old twat? - the man shook himself awake the moment he met any resistance in Dirks voice. - Get your gear ready, because were having our first unplanned stop. - he announced mid-conversation through the microphone, so as to follow procedures, while staring the rabble-rouser down with steady eyes. What followed was a moment of silence, disrupted only by the steady patter of snow hitting the windshield. - Are you deaf? You got your orders, now get to it. - Dirk urged the man to move back, by moving forward a little himself. - All of you. You have five minutes. We have to get things in order. - What things? Who died and made you the boss of me? - This again - Dirk said under breath, more a sigh than a complaint. - Did you even read the file the Ouroboros goons gave you? Let me spell it out for you. We are rerouting, so no beauty sleep tonight for us, and believe me, you need it. Dirk had to admit to himself, that last comment was needlessly provocative, but damn it felt good after 12 hours of driving. It didnt go without reaction for long, as Ted, all too eagerly, stepped up to face the old vet. - Say that again. - Hey! - a voice came from the door as Michael shoved his way past Match and Spoon, Teds unseparable companions. - If you wanna scrap, how about you try me first, huh? - Oh, great. Another relic of the past, this time extra large. - Ted groaned. - Came to mediate? Not getting enough attention? - I just cant stand listening to this bullshit when theres a job to be done outside. - he placed himself between Ted and Dirk as he spoke those words, enunciating the last word and pushing both mercenaries away from each other. - The faster we get this over with, the faster we can go and rest. Dont make me drag you out. - I appreciate the assist, Michael, but if I wanted him out that badly, he would already be out. - Dirk said, removing Michaels hand from his chest. As if on cue, Jason growled, reminding everyone of his imposing presence, thus far somehow hidden in the dark recesses of the cab. - Can you at least give us a rundown? To ease the nerves. - the corpulent man suggested, slightly nodding his head towards Ted, just slightly enough so that the man in question couldnt see. Nerves - the old vet echoed in his mind. - Firm orders should be enough to ease the nerves. He wanted to sigh, but stopped himself. - A ravine opened up ahead of us. Long and wide, and way too deep to drive through. - Cant we just go around? - If one pit opened up, then we cant be too confident in the terrain. Well have to back off the way we came and let Rodeo take the wheel for now. Rodeo being their sister truck. - So what does that have to do with us? - Ted injected himself back into the conversation, obviously not quite ready to give up the chance to snap back at Dirk. - Depending on how long the search takes, we might have to set up camp outside. - And freeze to death? No, thanks. - Precisely not to freeze. - Dirk corrected him immediately. - Those radiators working overtime all around the truck? Those are sucking up fuel, and we dont have much to spare. Certainly not on an unplanned stop. You can thank our employers for that. Well have to set up camp as we bide our time. - Oh, hell no! Im notC Before Ted could start his tirade, Dirk heard his radio click by the dashboard, signaling the end of this merry gathering. - Alright, everybody out. You do your jobs, and let me do mine. - he announced, and Jason moved in to intercept the interlopers. The reaction was immediate, as some reached for their guns, but thought better of it and started backing away. The door slammed shut, courtesy of Jasons inhuman presence, and Dirk dove for the radio. - Chernobog here, weve got a situation, over. - Dirk spoke into the radio with all intent to make it as efficient as possible, and thankfully the person on the other side seemed to share in that sentiment. - East Wind. I read you loud and clear. Whats the situation? Over. - We came across an unmapped ravine. Large beyond our sensor range. Need a reroute. Requesting recon from Rodeo. Over. - Roger that. Can you safely retreat? Over. - We should be able to retrace our tracks. We are preparing to set up camp in wait for intel. Over. - Roger. Rodeo heading south. Well relay the message to other units. Over and out. Dirk sighed a sigh of relief. Hearing someone at least pretend to be professional was like honey for his soul. East Wind, a man or a woman, he didnt know, but it didnt matter, was the only person in their unit with a strict no bullshit policy. They spoke scarcely, but when they did, they were concise, and seemed disciplined enough for the standards of a ragtag bunch of hired guns. Almost made Dirk regretful that they were in the other truck. Almost. But it was for the best. Each truck needed a steady foundation to properly work. - Chernobog! Hey! Answer me! - another voice rang out on the comms, pulling Dirk right out of his muddled thoughts. - Barbara. - he said indifferently, but matched his demeanor to his conversation partner. - You heard everything. Stay put till we get back to you and let the recon do their thing. Keep an eye out for a good, sheltered location with little wind. If this drags on, well really have to stay put and make a fire. The local fauna might not like it, so stay on your toes. - Nah, Ill be fine. Ive got the suit, remember? Big killing machine? Yeah, thats my baby. I was going to ask if you need my help getting out of a jam. - We should be fine. - those words lingered in the air for a moment as Dirk thought back to how uncooperative Ted was being. - Its a nice change of pace if anything. - But its pretty late, no? Way past your bedtime, old man. How do you even manage to keep driving like that with the rest of us? - I dont need your snarky comments. Im tuning you out. - No! Wait! I was being serious! Dont you know that its dangerous to drive when tired? - Damn, should have told that to Ouroboros before they hired me for a million-dollar mission. - Dirk shook his head lightly. - Soldiers dont have the luxury of complaining. We just do what were required to do. That, and Jason was keeping an eye on him. There was a daily driving quota to be met, and meet it he shall He felt a shiver run down his spine just as the thought entered his mind. It seemed like the corporation had already sunk its claws into him with that way of thinking. Then again, was it all that different from the army? A quota or an objective. Were they even that different? He sat back down and put the truck into reverse. - Again with that soldier talk. Are you a soldier first? Or a human like the rest of us? - Barbara continued with her unwanted snide commentary. - Dont get philosophical with me. - Hey, just giving you some perspective. - Dirk could imagine her shrugging as she spoke. - But man, it sure sucks. We were, what, twenty kilometers from the nearest town? I could really go for a restock. - Calling those places towns is a little generous. Scavenger camps. Settlements, maybe. If you were hoping to cash in your maintenance fund early, then sorry to say, but they either wont have what youre looking for, or they wont sell it. - Ever been to one of them? The settlements I mean. - Plenty. - How were they? - Bunch of people just struggling to survive. A sorry sight. - Damn. - There was a brief respite as they both let that sink in, giving Dirk hope for a moment of silence. It didnt last. - Why dont they just move? - Sometimes its better to try your luck out in the wilderness than to live under the oppressor. Or so I was told. - By Morozov? - Him and many others. Its not exactly an uncommon sentiment. I wonder why. - he said absentmindedly, his tone giving away that he knew exactly why, while carefully reversing his hulking beast of a truck, eyes stuck on his radar. - Oh, thats not very soldierly of you. - she giggled into the microphone and it crackled a bit. - Im putting you on 10% volume. Scream if you need me for anything serious. - Nooooo With that, silence returned to the cab and Dirk could reasonably focus on the most annoying part of every truck driver exam - reversing. The visibility of a reversing truck is already terrible due to distance from the ground and the giant obstruction that is the cargo on the cargo bed, so mixed with the added snowstorm and the frozen over car mirrors, it made the conditions for executing the whole maneuver less than ideal. Personally, the old soldier hated trucks probably the most out of all vehicles he had a license to drive, they were way too cumbersome and unresponsive to his liking. - So what now? - Jason asked, breaking the silence. - We just make a camp near some snowy patch of trees and wait for East Wind to give us a holler? - Pretty much. - Wont that be a death sentence in this mutated wilderness? - Not like we have much else of a choice. Effluvium is much heavier than Rodeo, driving too close to the ravine without feeling out the area could send us plunging straight into that gaping abyss. - Dirk started explaining. - Sitting in the truck limits our visibility and burns through our limited resources, if we run out, we are once again, dead. Setting up a camp in the snowy tundra is the best option we currently have on our hands. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.- We sure pulled the short end of the stick. - Jason surmised. - The shit covered one to boot. - More or less. After a while of reversing, the machine stopped and took a smooth turn towards the nearest patch of trees. As Dirk wrangled the machine into a proper spot, he informed on the radio waves both East Wind and Barbara about their stop location. Seeing the spot of pine trees made the old soldier think, why did they refer to it as tundra if the presence of spots like this one made it fall under the category of a taiga. Lack of education, probably, mixed with a healthy dose of sloppiness. Finally, the mighty Effluvium roared for the last time before its engine went silent. Chernobog grabbed the receiver and began his announcement. - This is our stop. From the north-east we are covered by a patch of dense firs, our custom truck will work as a cover, protecting us from the east. It will block out at least some of the wind. - he already heard some discontent from behind the door. - All the other cardinal directions will be exposed, so watch yourselves. Take your gear, the provisions assigned to you, and move out. Further instruction will be provided once were outside. Over and out. With that behind him, Dirk reached for his bag, but Jason got to it first. He didnt need any explanation for that. It was just another part of their game of pretend. Without further ado, the old soldier got up, checked the magazine of his handgun, tapped on his tactical knife to make sure it was in its holster and then moved towards the door, just as Argonaut fastened his helmet. He opened the door, passed its precipice and closed it in one fluid motion. Surprisingly, all the other mercenaries were already standing in the cargo hold, despite most of them not being the happiest about this whole arrangement, which showed through their body language and demeanor. Fortunately, a small handful just grit their teeth, seemingly resolved to get this over with without a hassle, which was a huge boon for Dirk when it came to surviving the upcoming hours. - Everyones gathered, I see. - Micheal exclaimed, pushing the button near the ramp. The first wave of cold air hit them as the ramp opened, causing some to shiver ever so slightly. Match seemed to react the hardest, cussing under breath while rubbing his arms. Dirk wanted to order them all to march, but the mercenaries had their own plans and spilled outside in a disorderly manner. None checked corners, no one spared even a second to check their landing area. They just walked out into the jaws of the snowstorm like cattle. The former Imperial Sergeant couldnt help but frown. If it was an actual battlefield, half of their man-power would already be lying dead in the snow. Saying anything right now would be pointless, so Dirk simply followed his squad with Jason in tow. As he passed Becker standing near the ramp button, the rotund man smiled at him. - In the business, we call it natural selection. - he added, following Chernobog outside. - Tell it to Ouroboros upper brass. - the driver responded. - Im afraid Im not high enough on the totem pole to give Ouroboros people a piece of my mind. - Want me to write a form for your promotion to my second-in-command? - I think Ill pass on such an honor. I like my life relatively free of headaches. Both men chuckled as the ramp closed, and the snow enveloped them all. In front of Dirk stood a bunch of people, looking like deer in the headlights, trying to figure out what to do. It was a miserable sight to say the least. - Should we send some of those young shits to start cutting the trees for the fire? - Black walked up to their trio. Despite the ever-present snow, his steps made barely any sound. His idea was pretty good and rational. But it had one fatal flaw, it required them to ask anything of the three stooges standing a few meters away from them. But leading was hardly about what one wanted, instead focusing on what the group needed. - Spoon, Match, Ted. - Dirk called out, walking towards the group. They all turned towards him in almost perfectly synchronized manner. - You guys are going on a tinder gathering journey. - Youre serious? - Spoon responded. - No fucking way, old-timer. - Match came second. - Fuck off. - and Ted closed off their chain of responses. - Ive got a better idea. How about you send that dog of yours and ask it to simply punch the trees down. - Spoon gave Chernobog a counteroffer. - It can dent a mech, Im pretty sure it can cut a few trees with its bare hands. Probably will be able to even carry it without any help. Hows that for efficiency? - Tell me, do you use a flamethrower to light up a gas stove? - Dirk asked, calmly. - The fuck is a gas stove? - A stove that requires ignition to heat up produce, would you use a military apparatus to light it up? - Hell no. - Then why would I send a military biological experiment to cut down trees? There are the right tools for the right jobs. Our Ouroboros supply bags have hatchets and you three have the most spunk out of all of us, not to mention the exoskeleton of yours. - Howd you know that? - Spoon sounded genuinely surprised. - An educated guess, now, without further distractions could you guys get to it? So that we wont die of frostbite? - What about the others? - Match interjected. - All y''all gonna just stand around while we work our asses off? - No. Theyre gonna make a fire pit, unless you think we can just put some damp branches and logs on top of each other and light them up to make a fireplace. Dirks response made the other man shut up, probably somewhat ashamed that he got schooled by someone in front of his clique. Despite two of their trio being somewhat convinced to carry out the old soldiers'' orders, there was one more, the last of them, who looked at Dirk with defiant eyes. - You feelself old-timer? - Ted interjected with more of the modern slang Dirk had no knowledge of. - Drove around some junker for a while, and now you think you can just tell people what to do? Fuck that. - Ted, he makes a goodC Spoon tried talking some sense into his compatriot, only eliciting a scoff that cut him off. - For such a tough guy, your balls must have shriveled from the cold, Spoon. - Teds words seeped with venom and caused Match to chuckle. - Listen here, you rusty has-been, I dont give a shit aboutC - Shut up. - Chernobog spoke softly, but his words cut like a knife. - YouC - Ever since I first saw your mug, you just kept on being a contrarian to anything anyone says. I dont care about your personal problems, your lifes story, or the type of life you went through before becoming a gun for hire. You can hate me and everyone else around you as much as you like when were all within the confines of our truck. Dirk walked up to the unassuming man and stopped only a few millimeters before his face. - But here is war. Here is death. In these post-war woods, one wrong decision will turn you into some beast''s excrement. - at this point Chernbog was whispering, but despite it Ted did not dare to interrupt him. - So let me ask you, is some bratty defiant statement worth your life? Is it worth the tears of someone waiting for your return? After these words, the old soldier stepped back. With none of the rowdy trio having anything to say to him. - So are you gonna go with Spoon and Match to gather those branches and cut a tree, or you hate living that much? - fucking hate you - Ted murmured something under breath. - What? - Just shut up, well get your goddamn wood! - Ted yelled in meek defiance before turning around and walking towards the woods. His two friends joined him promptly, with only Spoon stopping for a moment. He looked at Dirk, as if wanting to say something. But he decided not to in the end and simply waddled after his pals. - Thats one problem out of our hair. - Michael commented on the whole debacle. - Honestly, I am quite surprised those dimwits responded positively to anything you said, I expected them to keep on throwing insults up to the moment youd beat them to a pulp. - Same. - Black spoke out, while lighting a cigarette. - If you didnt want to dirty your hands, you could have said so. Id break those whelps for you. - Ruling through force is no way to rule at all. - Chernobog responded. - I stand by what I said to him, but it doesnt mean I intend to get my way by means of wanton violence. Thats a surefire way to get stabbed in the back - the old man thought, before turning around, once the three stooges disappeared in the thicket. - Elephant! - Dirk called out into the night, sparing one last glance in the direction which Ted and co. went, making extra sure that they didnt come back to stir trouble the second he let his guard down. - Y-yes! - the response was frantic. Dirk could hear the woman jump up in the snow like a scared cat. - Ever dealt with radiation? - Well, yes, sometimes. I d-deal with many substances and some of them are radioactive. - Got a Geiger counter on hand? - In, um, the truck. A small one, but it works fine. - Go get it and do a sweep of the perimeter. We dont want to camp on residual fallout. While youre at it, take the glowstick satchel from the cargo and throw them around as you walk. Dont stray too far. Black! - he moved on without waiting for a response. - Aye. - Keep her company. Eliminate any strays that wander close with extreme prejudice. - I can do that. - the old man smirked, already assembling the right gun for the job. - Armistice! Whats your firepower? - Im not helpless, but Im not exactly a fighter. - Firepit duty, get digging. Becker, help him. - Lets get this over with quickly, eh, Doc? I can already feel the frost nip on my fingers. - the round man blew some warm air into his hands. Armistice didnt say anything in return, simply sauntering over to get the necessary tools. - Dont pretend you can even feel the cold under all that blubber. - Black scoffed. - And dont you lay a finger on my stash while Im gone. - I dont deal in scrap metal, pal. Your trash hoard is safe, so dont worry. - Why, you - Leave this for later, why dont you? - Dirk stopped the conversation from devolving any further. With a dissatisfied grunt, Black affixed a steel sight to his rifle and threw it over his shoulder on a sling, just in time for Elephants return. At least she wasnt getting distracted. The satchel she fetched bulged out on her already comically enlarged silhouette as she fiddled with a small device in her hands. Her step was slower than Dirk would have liked, but something on the devices display was keeping her attention. - What are the readings so far? - he asked, genuinely concerned, but also to make her pick up her pace. - It could be worse, but I w-wish it was better. - a perfectly annoying non-answer. - Make your rounds and report to Armistice. If we cant manage it dry, hell decide which Ouroboros special to feed us. - Mercs turned guinea pigs. I dont remember that being a part of my contract. - Michael said jokingly, hands rummaging through their equipment in search of a spade. - Then you obviously havent read the fine print. - Must have caught me with the old white-text-on-white-page trick, cause I didnt see it, and I always read everything thrice, even the labels on the backs of my cereal. An occupational quirk, you could say. - Corporations and the government always find a way. - Reminiscing about previous employers? - Stating facts. Keep me posted on your progress through the radio. - Going back to your cab to secretly warm up? - Becker ribbed, his tone clearly playful. - Going to patrol the outer ring of our perimeter. Argonaut, Sentinel - the man gave a simple cryptic command, spinning his finger in the air as the bovine helmet turned to him for a second, but before the giant had the opportunity to disappear, Dirk stopped him. - Wait. Elephant? - he turned back to the woman who was now staring at the regenerator like a deer in the headlights. Clearly him sitting in the cab, isolated from the crew, didnt leave her enough time to acclimatize. - Elephant. - He repeated, and that seemed to bring her back to reality. - Y-yes? - Give me some of the sticks. - he commanded, already reaching into the satchel. He pulled out two handfuls, shook them and cracked a few, making them shine strongly. Those werent your normal, commercial sticks. They were more like mini-flares. He then threw them to Argonaut, who caught them seamlessly. - Three glowsticks. If you hear something heavy moving in the dark, look for their light. If you dont see it immediately, be ready to shoot. Save ammunition, but prioritize survival. Reloads are precious, but not as precious as lives. Even if you poke a few holes in Argonaut by mistake, he can easily take it, but it could leave you defenseless. Sorry Jason - he added in his head - Look at him, everyone. So callous, but has a sweet side, too, worrying about us like that. - Michael couldnt help but chuckle. - You know what to do. Lets live through the night. - he added, strapping two sticks to his arms, and sticking one in his hair, right behind the scrunchie, snow crackling under his feet as he walked into the night. Volume 2 Chapter 4 - Hate Despite all the initial hurdles, the camp making endeavors seemed to be progressing relatively smoothly from what Dirk could glean from the radio. He could see from a distance as the lit perimeter slowly expanded, and Teds incessant whining on the radio at the very least told their unit that his clique was alive. The old vet moved at a steady, not too slow, not too fast pace through the knee-high snowy layer, straining his ears as he marked out the outer circle of their domain with the few glow sticks that he had stuffed in his pockets. While he carefully plowed through the rough terrain, feeling out the ground before him with utmost care, gun-hand ready, he let Jason prowl freely in his general vicinity, acting as his first line of defense, should the wildlife or anything else decide to approach. If not for the green light emanating from him, based on the sounds alone, Dirk would be inclined to take him for the enemy. In the rough terrain, Jason moved unrestrained on all fours, his tremendous mass thudding against the ground with each movement. This wildness stood in stark contrast with the usual civilized demeanor the young one displayed, serving as a reminder that the boy truly was more than met the eye, making the old soldier unknowingly wonder which version of Jason was the act, and which one the truth. And despite knowing him for years at this point, those moments when the lines became blurred always sparked a dissonant reaction in Dirk. He could not bring himself to see the boy for more than that. A scared, confused boy hed first seen all those years ago. Dirk exhaled heavily, just as Jason returned to his side after another quick round in the snow. - Whats the matter? Sleepy already? - Jason joked, casually dusting off his hands from the snow, acting as if he didnt just use them to run. - Its not the first time Im doing a 24-hour shift. - When was the last time? Twenty years ago? - Dont get coy with me. Whats the situation? - The coast is clear. For now. - Lets hope it stays that way. - Now thats a little surprising. I half-expected you to be raring to go, get your hands dirty already. - I wasnt posturing with Ted, Jason. - he chided. - Were in a warzone, and dont you forget it. I may be good, but Im still just a man. If I mess up, its all over. Jason nodded solemnly, like a scolded child, realizing his mistake. He often forgot just how brittle human life was, doubly so when it came to Dirk. - Speaking of Ted, want me to check up on him? - Hes not a child, even if he acts like one. By now, he must have fully realized that his ass will freeze if he doesnt get to work. - Fair enough. Wheres Barbs, by the way? - Barbs? - Dirk raised an eyebrow, which was kinda lost in the weird lighting of the glowsticks. - Didnt she say to call her that? - he asked innocently. - Oh, so you already consider yourself her friend. Good for you. - Hey, why so calloused? Shes like the only person in our group making any effort to be friendly with everyone. Maybe its time you reciprocated a little? - Im glad that you are looking out for me, but Its really not the right time to be making friends. I consider her an ally. An important asset to keep close, but her friendliness is exactly why I cant let my guard down around her. Theres always an ulterior motive, and I have yet to sus hers out. - You really think she has it in herself to deceive you? - You are too trusting, Jason. Shes smarter than she''s letting on. Much smarter. Youd do best not to believe in her blindly. Dont trust anybody here, in fact. - he blew some hot air into his hands, feeling the freezing wind pick up speed. - I want you to know this. All this banter on the radio? All the ribbing, jokes and insults? They are not there without reason. Its all social games. Getting allies and identifying rivals. Establishing a hierarchy. People dont sign up for multi million contract works to make friends. Jason couldnt help but roll his eyes. A fact obstructed by his mask. - So, back to my original question? - Shell be here shortly. Jason couldnt help but look at him confused. - Didnt you order her to stay put? - A power play. Probably spurred by her being emboldened after the victory against you. - he explained, pulling out a damp cigarette. - Currently there is no-one in the radius of at least fifty klicks that could order her around, not as long as shes in the mechanized suit that is. - Come on. Isnt she simply impulsive? Why else would you mess with your employers infrastructure just to have a chat?. - Barbaras attempts at a conversation under the guise of the Ouroboros drone resounded in the young mans head. She didnt sound malicious to him, nor like a schemer. Just a genuine person whod spare some worries even for him - a non-human. - You mean the whole drone hacking? - Dirk inhaled the smoke as the snowflakes dampened the cigarette more and more. - It was a strategic move. She was scoping us out. If someone had the access to such an easy way of keeping surveillance over their competition, why wouldnt they make use of it? There was nothing we could hide from her during that time, but we can do it now. You should remember that, or it will bite you in the ass when you least expect it. - Then Ill just grow a new pair of buttocks. - Jason attempted to inject some levity into the conversation. It seemed to have worked to a degree, as Dirk scoffed, a small smile poking out from under his mustache. - Lucky you. - with that he threw the barely started cigarette into the snow as it got way too damp to keep on burning. - Dont you think youre smoking too much? - the regenerator asked out of concern. - I think Im not smoking enough. It keeps me grounded, unlike hitting the bottle. After a response that was hard to argue with, their conversation dried up, so both men quietly continued to waddle through the snow, leaving glow sticks every now and then as they went. The silence didnt last long, as the sound of rapidly crunching snow betrayed another person approaching them. It was Elephant. - What is it? - Dirk spoke first. - Spoon and the rest are back with an amount of wood that should last us for a few hours, according to Mister Becker, sir. I was sent to ask you if youd like to join us at the firepit? - despite her suit supporting all her movements, the voice of the woman inside was ragged. - Ill finish my round, recalibrate Argonaut and join you. - U-understood. - Before you go, tell Michael to get one more seat at the fireplace ready. - Sir? - A guest from our unit will be coming over. As if responding to the hail, far away on the horizon, a large cascade of snow, like an avalanche, began closing on their position. The howl of the jet engines accompanied it, easily recognizable despite the distance and the wind. Elephant took a step back, betraying her choice between the fight-or-flight responses, but Dirk waved at her to calm the woman down. - Get to it. - Okay! - the faceless mercenary responded before scampering away towards the firepit, where more armed men arose in response to the ruckus traveling in their general direction. - Does she have to make it such a spectacle? - Dirk murmured. - It would be hard not to, with those engines. Besides, walking would take too long, so dont be such a grump. - Jason responded, taking the chaos as an opportunity to speak up. - Wont it also benefit us to a degree? - How? - Animals, mutated or not, should steer clear of this much noise. - Attempting to predict a wild beast, especially a starved one, is how you become its dinner. A part of Jason wanted to call Dirk out for choosing to sound profound as a poorly veiled attempt at venting his disapproval towards Barbaras actions. But he decided to keep it to himself. His friend was very much dead-tired at this point, it wouldnt take much to piss him off. Adding more fuel to the fire helped no one and achieved nothing. The man had enough on his head as it was. Adding a friendly spat to the mix was just mean. As seconds passed, the silhouette of Pollux became more and more vivid, with coiling snow behind its jets looking like a pair of giant wings, adding extra mystique and terror to the rapidly approaching war-machine. Within the time it took Barabaras machine to pass a few hundred meters, the unofficial leader of the Scout Squad finished marking the edge of their impromptu camp with chemlights. This distance was carefully calculated by his tired brain as an average kill range for the weapons wielded by all people currently under him. Of course, there were those whose range and firepower easily dwarfed the radius of their perimeter, but they were the outliers. The current setup should be optimal for their group as a whole. As Dirk contemplated if his calculations were accurate enough, Pollux started slowing down, now easily recognizable to those with better eyesight. The machine surprisingly decelerated in stages and with enough grace to not cover Dirk and Jason in snow. A testament to the pilots skill. - Have your joints already stalled, pops? - the loudspeaker within the machine rumbled. - I thought I asked you to stay put. - the old soldier said, despite knowing how the conversation would go. Maybe it was out of necessity, or perhaps simple pettiness. He didnt know himself. Which only told him how tired he was. - Ya sure did. But I wouldnt be able to catch any shut-eye in my warm, cozy truck knowing that a half-awake senior is fumbling around the predator-infested forest, you know? Its what people call being decent. - she explained herself. - Of course, surely. - the former professional soldier cut the topic short, opting to switch to something that would keep his brain running. - Why were you plowing through the snow? - Walking would be way too slow. - she responded snappily. - I mean, why didnt you fly? Those jet-engines on your back seem capable enough. - Oh, because it would take way too much fuel to lift Pollux off the ground and keep him there, its much cheaper to push him across the floor. - with that said, one of the machines arms tapped its steel leg a few times. - If I use joint-locked limbs like skis, Im saving up so much fuel you wouldnt believe! Now that the woman mentioned it, both of her mechs legs were stuck in a slightly bent position, not even shaking rhythmically from the running engine. The degree to which the machine was optimized to handle almost any problem placed before its owner showed how many years of planning, drafting and upgrading must have gone into Pollux before it could stand before them as it did now. Dirk might have felt impressed, if he had enough energy in himself to do that. - Now that youre here, wanna make yourself useful? - he asked plainly. - Well duh. What ya got for me? - her response lacked any hesitation and as if to prove her readiness, Pollux''s legs unlocked, taking a few steps in place. - Do you have an infrared visor in your machine? - Sure do, alongsideC - Can you fly up as high as you can with fuel spending in mind and make a quick topographic snapshot of our surroundings, paying close attention to any encroaching heat-signals that arent East Winds Rodeo? That request gave Barbara a surprising pause. Filling the frozen tundra with awkward silence. With her body obscured by the steel coffin of Polluxs cockpit, there was no way to determine why she didnt respond immediately. Could she have not expected that request? Maybe she was running out of fuel? Was she plotting something, just as Dirk theorized? Maybe she was on secret comms with someone else as they spoke, feeding them intel on their current status? - Garuda? - Dirk said sternly with a slightly raised voice. - Yeah, yeah, sorry bout that. Had to ask the Ouroboros big-wigs about what the height limit to my vertical flight. Dirk exhaled, stuck somewhere between relief and suspicion. It was true that at some point, one of the sisters said something about the medical company keeping tabs on their machines usage. A shallow flight shouldnt fire off any alarms, but they had to be careful. A little too much too quickly and the Empire could take their convoys actions as a threat. - Eighty-five meters is the best they can give me pops, you fuck with that? - I do what? - Are you fine with that? Geez, youre not that old, stop actin. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.- Yeah, it should suffice. - Dirk frowned at her comment. - Then Ill commence lift-off from over there. - Pollux''s claw-arm pointed towards a spot a dozen meters away from Chernobogs line of glowsticks. - See ya in a jiffy. With that out of the way, the machine walked away from them, prepared to reach for the skies in the next couple of seconds. - Yeah, sorry, I cant see any nefarious mastermind asking me if I fuck with their ideas. - Jason whispered with a chuckle. - Shows how green you are. - Dirk responded, rubbing his hands together. The cold was slowly getting to him. - Mumbling to yourself? Guess thats the side effect of burning the candle at both ends.- Michael suddenly called out to them, making his way through the snow with considerable effort.- What fun extracurricular activities are you guys up to? - Semi-aerial reconnaissance. - Chernobog quickly responded, turning around to spare a glance at the fellow merc. - Sounds fun, whos getting tossed? - That giant hunk of steel. - Dirk nodded towards Barabaras machine, now setting up for the ignition. - By jet engines. - Wont she be a sitting duck up there? - I expect her to be. - Thats cold, and I aint talking about the weather. - Any plausible scenario that could befall her up there would be negated by Pollux. - Chernobog sounded as if he was reading from a script. - From anti-air fire to sudden thruster malfunction due to weather. - Isnt that rather prideful of you to assume so many things? - Pride and experience look eerily similar to the untrained eye. In the end, both get verified by results. With those words, a roar of the mechs thrusters filled the night, throwing up waves of snow all around it, which thankfully quickly dissipated, protecting the sanctity of the glowstick line meticulously established by Dirk. Then with a sudden pull, Pollux took its vertical flight, or rather a leap. - Holy shit! - someone yelled from around the firepit. It was an appropriate reaction to the sudden burst of speed the machine displayed. From the fight it had with Jason it was plain to see that it was nimble, yet it still displayed a cumbersome nature of a mechanized suit then. But this sudden speed up? Didnt feel real at all. How much power did she put into those engines? - Dirk couldnt help but wonder, slightly worried. - It moves more like a cruise missile than a jet plane. While the old soldiers mind wandered, Barbaras machine reached the peak of its allowed flight, hovering there momentarily, before letting gravity take over. For a moment, the former Imperial soldier watched Micheal Becker flinch, as if preparing to run. It was reassuring to see that he wasnt the only one doubting the sanity of some actions taken by the young Prusk. Fortunately, before landing, her engines spurted fire every few meters to lose as much speed as possible before the inevitable crash into the white void. As the machine touched down, snow lifted from the ground as a white mist, spreading across a wide area. It was a fleeting hazard, but one limiting visibility nonetheless. Most of it dispersed the moment Pollux waltzed through it, servos screeching. The machine walked up to the men and jerkingly stopped, only for its body to exude waves of milky steam, which meant only one thing - the cockpit was opening. As its front plate slowly lifted, the sounds from within reached Dirks ears. It was music. Loud disco music. As the frontal plate moved up to reveal the innards of the machine, Barbara exhaled loudly, her suit unzipped to an indecent degree. - Holy shit, you have no clue how long Ive been waiting for a cool breeze. - she was panting like a dog. - Yeah, sure. - Dirk was too tired to care. - Now, the status of our surroundings? Michael Becker gave up and simply looked away. Jason only wished that he could. - Snow, trees, more snow. Rodeo driving away into the snowstormC - I meant the threat assessment, Garuda. - Im getting there, dont pop a vein. - she smiled coyly, rolling her eyes. - But since youre so impatient, there is a pack of creatures trying to blend into the snow north-west from here. Theyre still two klicks from here, give or take, moving very slowly. - How many? - Dunno, all were kinda melding together for me, so Id say bout a few. - Bout a few? - Dirk repeated slowly, letting every word marinate on his tongue. Unsure numbers tasted rancid at times like this, but as long as the distance that Barbara gave him was to be believed, they had time to prepare. - Thanks. - he threw offhandedly and took an about turn towards the fire-pit. - Little lady, you should probably zip yourself up, lest you catch a cold. - Becker finally spoke up, feeling that the gravity of the situation simmered down a bit. - Yeah, yeah, Im going back to my room, papa. - the mech pilot responded with a frivolous tone as the machines cockpit began to close up again. As Dirk headed back, he couldnt help but smile as he looked around. Their prudence was about to pay off with the perimeter lit up and ready. Compared to the half-blind trek through the snow, navigating back to the camp now was a cakewalk, and hopefully, the shooting would be too. As for the quality of the shooters That would get verified soon enough. As he entered the earshot distance of the camp, he could hear that the place was abuzz with concern, the loudest mouth of course being Teds. - Leave it to the old man to fuck things up. Some camping trip he wanted, the bastard, and now were sitting ducks. Fucking rockets already flying our way. - the young rabble-rouser went off at no-one in particular, yet at everyone all at once, frantically pointing the barrel of his gun in all directions, fueled by paranoia, making his squadmates duck like in some twisted game of whack-a-mole. - Chill! Chill! - of all people, it was Spoon who voiced his concern first, grabbing the barrel of the gun from behind and pulling it straight into the air, thankfully without misfires. - The fuck was that, gramps? Can you read me? - he spoke aloud, making Dirks radio buzz not too far off. - At ease, soldier. Garudas here to assist. - Dirk announced with his voice, not bothering with the radio, as he entered the camp grounds. The fire was already burning, at least, so the matter of their immediate survival was taken care of. - Oh, great! That bitch again! Just what we needed! Shes getting some kicks out of us with that hunk-a-junk of hers, huh? - as if with a flip of a switch, Teds panicked scrambling suddenly got pinpoint focused on Barbara. He yanked his gun out of his Spoons hands, a feat on its own, considering his buddys added strength from his exoskeleton, and pointed its barrel down to the ground, squeezing the grip with renewed strength. - Gimme a sec. Ill go and kick her ass. - Stay put. Weve got confirmed hostile presence in close proximity. - Dirk reigned him in, grabbing him by the scruff of his coat. An act that didnt go over well with the young bull. - Dont touch me! - he snapped, spinning around with a chop of his hand that didnt connect with anything as Dirk pulled back. - Get your act together. Youll get the chance to channel that energy soon, and Garudas here to stay, whether you like it or not. - Again with the bossing around. Fuck off. - Im not thrilled either, but shes acting well within the Ouroboros directives. Bringing her here was not my decision, but its what were working with. If you live long enough, maybe youll learn to count your blessings. Each strike, each bullet that she takes on, is one thats not coming your way. I dont know what imaginary problem you have with her, or anyone else here, for that matter, but let me make one thing clear. I will not tolerate infighting. Not while we have a real threat on our hands. So buckle the fuck up, why dont you? - he said, warming his hands by the fire. - Ive got a better idea. Why dont you show me how its done? You obviously think youre better than me. - Dont think you can kick back and watch. Im not covering your ass. - Oh, dont worry about it. I can take care of myself. - Ted waved his hand, latching onto a small ladder on their trucks side, clambering his way onto the little snipers nest up top. At the very least with their current lineup what Ted was doing seemed tactically sound according to Dirks judgment. The weapon that the whelp was lugging worked the best when deployed in either a covered position or on a decent elevation. - If you rain casings all over my head Ill break your kneecaps. - Michael warned him, joining up with Dirk. Ted didnt even answer him as he vaulted off the ladder into the snipers nest. It looked more like a crows nest depicted on drawings of archaic ships but it worked well enough for the purpose of long range reconnaissance and fire support. Some things just never go out of style. With that problem out of the way Chernobog turned to the rest of his team members with a decisive look. One that seemed to be stripping them apart, allowing the old-timer to take a look at every small piece of them and judge each one with clinical precision. Black looked at him with a smirk. Already armed and ready to go. Spoon and Match seemed calm enough, but the former kept looking to the nest where Ted kept silently to his own devices. Armistice didnt even dignify their team leader with a glance, instead meticulously checking his inventory. Lastly, Elephant. She kept on fidgeting with her weapon, trying her best to keep her composure. The weapon she held looked like a cross between an old rifle and a heavy-duty resin gun. Dirk had never seen anything like that in his life, making him understandably curious, but satiating that professional curiosity was secondary. There were more important things to focus on. Dirk didnt really feel like spinning yarn to other people at the moment. Hed much rather prefer a bit of peace and quiet to shut his eyes, even if for just an hour or a half. But alas Lets just ham it up - his thoughts formed, devoid of care in the world. - It should get their attention, hopefully they all comply with minimal resistance. - Scout Squad! - he shouted. Argonaut growled sharply as Dirk''s shout echoed, projecting force for the both of them, instantly grabbing everyones attention. Most of them looked confused, but some failed to hide their worry. - Were currently being slowly encroached upon by enemy forces. Their numbers are not concrete, but they are a pack of mutated animals. - What, like elks and pigs? - Ted scoffed from up high. - Well turn those into mincemeat! - he announced with confidence that stood in stark contrast to his panicked fit not long ago. His friends seemed to agree with that sentiment, and their attitude wasnt completely unfounded. After all, Match, Spoon and Ted all hauled probably the heaviest ordinance in their group. As long as they had a clear line of sight and enough distance, mere animals would but target practice, both points covered by the prepared perimeter. But that was assuming the best case scenario. - At least you''re eager, but let me ask you this. Do you have eyes on the back of your head? - Chernobog asked calmly, challenging that confidence. - Huh? - Ted raised his eyebrow. - Because if pumping out lead at whatever''s in front is your entire plan, then it will only take one slip-up before something sneaks up on you and shreds you to bits. Or better yet, one of your groupies. - Dirk felt the fatigue influence his behavior as it became harder and harder to filter out his frustrations with amateurs. - And from then a cascade of death follows as we all fall one by one. We need a battle plan with concrete positions to cover all the necessary angles. - Don''t pop a vein, old man. You''ll get a stroke at this rate. - the young buck tried gaining some ground but it was painfully obvious that his behavior wasnt earning him any points with anyone. - A stroke is starting to sound preferrable to whatever half-assed attempt at survival you''re going to to show us. So please, keep talking me into an early grave, or, if you want to see the light of dawn, let me go over the plan. Which one will it be? After those words the trio fell silent. Equally angry at someone calling them out so blatantly and unhappy about the good point the old man before them was making. Chernobog ran a hand through his hair, exhaled and continued. - West, south and north are the sides we are currently open, and the enemy is encroaching from north-west according to the visual intel provided by Garuda. - Dirk turned around and pointed towards the direction he was about to mention, just to be sure. - Well man the north side of the camp, Match and Garuda will take point, Ted has the high ground, rest of you will provide support. Take your team-mates positioning into consideration when firing. - Yeah, sure send the normal guy to the front-lines while the leaving walking meat-shield covers your ass. - Match quipped quietly. THe had had a weird tendency to speak very softly when not playing cards. - Argonaut will be patrolling the main camp area to ensure that no stragglers try to flank us. - Dirk answered his worry, ignoring the snide nature of the comment. - Its reaction time and animalistic senses allow it to detect danger and eliminate it much faster than any of us could ever dream of. It wont simply sit and soak up punishment, it will be our roaming anti-flanking system and thats final. No one seemed eager to voice any concerns or ideas. Until Becker raised his hand. - Youve got no plans to outline the second and third line of defense in the instance where we get pushed back? - the weapons merchant asked quite a poignant question. - No. - the quick answer slightly threw him off. - Because if you follow my directions and all of you are as good as you make yourself out to be, we wont be pushed back anywhere. - Ive got no further questions. - Michael exhaled, equal parts worry and disappointment marring his face, while his sworn rival Black nodded in approval. - If a situation arises where Argonaut gets overwhelmed you have my permission to fire upon him. - the soldier answered the last concern he could think of. - Dont worry, he wont mind too much. Just don''t overdo it. Now if there are no further comments, get your asses in gear everyone, on the double! Weve got half an hour at best. Everyone scrambled to their given positions. - Take as much extra ammo as you need and lets show those beasts why we occupy the top of the food chain. Volume 2 Chapter 5 - Assumptions The half-hour or so that Dirk expected the beasts to arrive stretched on into hours. Frustration settled in and the words of disapproval quickly and quietly made their rounds around the camp in an irritating loop. - Wheres the action, old man? - Ted mocked. He made it a point to rile everyone up on the radio every few minutes or so. - My trigger finger is itching. I might just pop a few rounds into your oversized toy to see if it will dance. - he cackled as the radio crackled. The little shit. - Dirk murmured under breath, eyes still peeled, but eyelids heavy. The wildlife was behaving strangely. They entered Jasons olfactory zone a long time ago, but were staying at the very edge of it for what seemed like an eternity. Did they realize their unit was ready? No. A beast does not have the capabilities to plan that far ahead. But they were being cautious. Overly so, and it put Dirk on edge for a whole slew of reasons. The fire was slowly dying down, too. Mostly because what little wood Ted and his buddies brought in was less than enough, but now in their precarious situation they couldn''t safely go out and gather more. Dirk wanted to click his tongue. To walk around in a circle. Do anything to dispel this gnawing feeling of frustration that was eating away at him. But he thought better of it. It was his fault that he didnt oversee the job properly, and now they were all paying the price. With the warmth of fire slowly losing the battle against the incessant wintry winds of the Russian wasteland, their time was running short, and soon they would have to take action. Hoping for a quick response from their sister truck was foolish at best, and could be deadly at worst. Thus, Dirk busied himself concocting a plan, watching Argonaut turn his head ever so slowly to match the movements of the encroaching pack as he sniffed them out. But even Jasons senses werent foolproof. The whims of the ever-changing winds would either make or break them at this rate if they relied on him too much. Dirk held his breath for a moment, then exhaled a big white cloud. - Hold your ground. Im going out to gather more wood. - he spoke into the radio, already slinging the pack with the right tools over his shoulder. - Ooh! Would you look at that! The princess is going to dirty her pretty little hands! Got bored with barking orders already? - Teds response was immediate and predictably dull. - Tell you what. Ill go with! - That second part though - Stay. - Dirk growled into the mic, but it was already too late. With a thud and a crackle of snow underfoot, Ted jumped down from his nest. You were in the one place where youd be useful. That was your only good idea. Why change it now? - Dirk seethed in silence, watching the troublemaker nonchalantly make his way towards him. - Didnt you say youd be watching? - I did. And I am. Ill be watching you bust your ass with that puny hatchet the Ouroboros idiots gave us. Youll see how fun that is. - he smirked and walked past Dirk, bumping his shoulder. - Come on. - Ill show you the way, free of charge. Wouldnt want you to trip and break a hip, yeah? The little shit. - Dirk almost said out loud as he watched this pain in the ass walk on ahead with a cheerful step. Those words were becoming a mantra. He considered his next step. Was Ted going to use the opportunity to get rid of him? Probably not. It would be too obvious. Besides, Dirk could handle one unruly whelp on his own without much issue, though hed rather it didnt turn into a full-blown confrontation. As much as Ted was proving to be more trouble than he was worth, worst case scenario, having to put him down this early on could undermine his authority, if not spark a full-blown mutiny. Dirk sighed, looking at the dwindling flame. There was no time for deliberations. As he took a step forward, so did Jason, but Dirk quickly stopped him. - Stay. Defend the team. - he commanded, not sparing the giant a glance. Jason was probably having the same doubts as Dirk, but the old vet couldnt afford to leave the camp unattended. He needed at least one person he could fully depend on stationed in the camp. This sent a wave of murmurs through their group. Nobody voiced their concerns, but everybody knew that some sort of clash between the two was coming. Still, they were all mercenaries. What happened to anybody else was of no concern to them in the grand scheme of things, as long as it didnt affect them, so they let it go. - Not taking your living shield with you? Oh, you must trust me to have your back after all. Im flattered. - The camps safety takes priority. - Dirk answered, only half truthfully. He needed eyes and ears here, sure, but his soldierly instincts also forced him to think about completing objectives, and having the team survive and defend the truck was one of them. - How nice of him. Hes leaving his enforcer with you guys. Arent you just giddy about it? - Ted mocked, his tone just one step from confrontational. More murmurs followed. If Dirk had to give one thing to Ted, it was that the boy was good at inciting. Hed find great success as an Imperial plant during protests. It takes a certain kind of talent to lead a crowd astray. Still, they moved out, their heads on swivels as they plowed through the snow. Any trails they made some hours ago were long gone, covered up by a fresh layer of white fluff. It didnt take them long to reach the first trees, but not all of them were usable. Some too hard, some too heavy. Most rotten and useless. They left their secured perimeter long before they found the first usable firewood. Their trek was surprisingly silent, and Dirk was torn on how to feel about it. He guessed that with no audience, Ted would rather save his breath. It was sound thinking, the old vet had to admit, but it also unnerved him just how out of character it was for the always-yapping upstart. It kept Dirk on his toes, but it wasnt exactly like he needed an incentive. Somewhere along the way, Ted shifted his position, moving behind his back, probably thinking he was being subtle about it. Some would say that it was only natural. That the one with the bigger gun should support the column from the rear, as short as it was, but the air weighed heavy on Dirks shoulders with each minute that passed as they walked. As they came to the edge of a small clearing, Dirk knelt down by a small tree, barely bigger than a sapling, but decidedly not a full-blown tree, and started working the hatchet, the wood hed already collected clattering in the sack on his back. The pitter-patter of snow hitting his coat mixed with the rhythmic strikes of his tool on wood, accompanied by the incessant howling of the wind. In some weird way, the melody of the unforgiving wilderness was calming. Almost serene. And thats when Dirk heard it. - I know people like you. Give them a little power and they think they are hot shit. - Ted said from behind Dirks back, his tone unlike anything the vet ever heard from him. It was slow. Measured. Coated in a thin, but pronounced coat of emotions, none of which were good. - Throwing your weight around just because you have that pile of muscles following you around. - Shut up. - Dirk answered flatly, his grip on the hatchet tight as a noose. - You put up a front. Say grand things about protecting the team, but I know better. The others are too chicken-shit to stand their ground, but Im no pushover. Ive been pushed around too much already. Im my own boss, you hear? - I told you to shut your mouth. - Dirk hissed, hearing the distinct clicking of mechanisms through the cacophony of winter. - People like you are worthless. Cowards, all of you. The moment shit hits the fan, youll just bail andC - I told you to SHUT UP. - Dirk roared, turning around in a fraction of a second. He saw the barrel of Teds gun pointed at him and the vague outline of his face. His eyes glistening with a sort of calculated madness. The hatchet left his hand so fast that Ted could not even begin to comprehend what was happening, his gaze focused on the man before him, down the iron sight. The tool whizzed through the air, its dulled, yet menacing edge glittering in the artificial light. It connected with a wet thud, and Ted fell to the ground. - What the fuck?! - The troublemaker yelled, scrambling on the ground, his eyes racing, trying to make sense of the situation. Something bumped him hard. Then he saw it, the dead, malformed body of something, right there in the snow in front of him, the hatchet sticking out of its head, buried so deep that it almost bisected it. Before Ted could even get his bearings, Dirk called out to him. - Get up! They are here! - he commanded and threw out a handful of glowsticks in a wide arc, reaching for the ax with the other hand. From the snow, jaws glistened instantly. Another creature leaped towards the old soldier, aiming at his side, exposed from the wide throw. Those animals were much smarter than Dirk could have ever anticipated. Could it have been the mutation, or something else entirely? There was no time to think. The old man twisted in the hip, letting the foaming jaw fly by his side while grasping in a headlock what came after. Falling with the monster to the snowy floor, he didnt skip a beat and snapped its neck using their combined momentum. But the real surprise came once he did that. Another denizen of the tundra rushed towards the toppled human. This position was less than ideal for fighting a quadruped, he needed to get up and quickly. Suddenly, the creature got hit and went flying across the snow with a yelp. - Fuck off! - yelled Ted, already up from the ground and holding his machine gun by its barrel in a finishing pose of a perfect-form golf swing. The old dog expected the whippersnapper to snapper some more on the snowy ground, yet he stood tall and ready to rumble. A surprise, but a welcome one. Then he flowed from the swing to a firing stance seamlessly, sending a salvo into more incoming targets. The silver lining of Teds fumbled attempt on Dirks life was that his LMG was cocked and ready to shoot the moment they got ambushed. A hail of hot lead cascaded through the trees with a deafening sound, tearing bark, flesh and snow alike. Just by looking, both men could count at least two confirmed and five unconfirmed hits within the gloom. - Towards the camp, on the double. - Dirk commanded, his speaking voice somehow louder than gunfire. - Youre on the rear duty. - Stuff it, this aint over yet, between you and me! - Ted barked back. But he followed the order regardless as Chernobog passed him to take point, swiping the bloodied hatchet from the corpse and putting it to use almost immediately as another beast leaped from the darkness. Dirk slid underneath it, grabbing the logging tool in both hands, and then gutting the animals above him from belly down. An unlikely proof of the hatchets deceptive sharpness. Where the creature landed, Ted briefly pointed his red-hot barrel and shot it, just to be sure. Dirk got up with a snappy spring-like motion and in one fluid movement began pressing onward. They both could hear screams and more gunfire from the direction of the camp as they were making it through the woods. Despite the initial burst of speed, they had to slow down into an energetic strut to avoid further ambushes. Lance fired at shadows, switching to burst fire to avoid wasting ammo, while his vanguard turned the safety off his handgun, gripping it tightly in one hand, keeping the hatchet in the other hand. Using its wooden shaft as a stabilizer under the gun barrel, he kept both weapons drawn and ready. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.Looking over and seeing the small caliber that Chernobog wielded, the young buck wanted to say something snarky, but each time he opened his mouth something appeared for a moment in between the trees, forcing him to focus. - Eighty meters, friendlies, watch your fire. - Dirk warned him coldly. The sounds were deafening now, with people barking orders and warnings over the ceaseless gunfire and animalistic roars. Unnervingly, there was also laughter piercing through the sounds of chaos. One of the voices belonged to a man, while the other was heavily digitized and compressed. Didnt take a genius to figure out who the second person was, but the first racked Dirks brain. Finally, the end of the tree-line presented itself before them at last. With that, both of them rushed out of the woods, meeting face to face with the extent of carnage that their camp underwent in those few minutes. - I sure do hope they got more in store! - the digitized voice screamed as Pollux threw a limp body of a broken beast across the snowy ground. Ah! - Elephant yelped and tipped over from the corpse suddenly crashing near her. To say that the animal attack was one-sided would be an understatement. The air was thick with the smell of blood, gunpowder and the stench of burning flesh. Exactly at the edge of the glow stick light laid multiple burning corpses. Near them Match, pacing around like a restless watchdog, holding a large apparatus resembling a leaf-blower in both his hands. A small hose dangled by his side, connecting to a tank at his hip. Like a chef with his oven full, he kept close to the sizzling flesh, as if to make sure that it was well done and ready to be served. Not too far from him stood Spoon looking into the distance, where a pack of beasts seemed to be retreating. - Bombs away. - he stated casually. The payloads left the chamber of his grenade launcher, one after another, each explosive landing perfectly despite the distance, blowing the craven beasts into smithereens. Even through his lingering distaste for his and his two friends behavior these past few days, Dirk found in himself a bit of newfound respect for the lad at the impressive display. Despite the attack taking no more than a few minutes and likely being an ambush, at a glance nobody seemed to have gotten hurt, and the mercs managed to repel the invaders. It went much better than Dirk could have hoped for. All complications considered, an early death wasnt out of the questions. - Youre late to the party! - Black was the first to notice him and welcome him with a wave. The barrel of his gun was still smoking. - Even with the element of surprise, beasts will only be beasts. - he said, kicking a nearby carcass. - Now, dont get too cocky. - Michael joined in, exertion apparent in his voice. His darting eyes standing in stark contrast to the lax atmosphere that the other mercs displayed. - This could have been just the vanguard, sent to test our responses. - Ha! A vanguard? From animals? - Black croaked. - Whats next? Youre gonna tell me there is some dog general out there on a hill? Sniffing the air to bark the proper orders? - Wild animals dont normally approach encampments that make as much noise and lights as ours. But even if those whelps were some kind of mutated anomaly, they should have scrammed the moment we killed the first five. - Becker stood next to the two other aged men. - Not after however many we culled in the last few minutes. - Twenty one around the encampment, five more blown up by Spoon a few dozen meters away from here. - Armistice spoke, getting ready to clean his rifle. The good doctors voice almost came as a surprise, his presence during the fight a white noise in the background of the cacophony of chaos. Nearly unperceivable, aside from the sounds of his shooting. Now he simply tallied the lives taken and cleaned the long-range bolt rifle that seemed to be his weapon of choice. - Then there were the two torn in half by BarbaraC - You know it! - Pollux rumbled with a female voice, interrupting Armistice in the process. - And however many you two have slain in the woods. - Thatd be a metric fuck-tonne. - Ted shared his insight on the matter, with an inkling of pride and not an ounce of vitriol he spewed on Dirk not so long ago. - Most of them mine, confirmed as shit. - I see. The teams medic didnt seem amused in the slightest and simply returned to the duty at hand. Somewhat caught up to speed Dirk took a shallow breath and then started patting down his own coat before procuring a cigarette from one of the pockets. Unfortunately it was damp. The old soldier clicked his tongue and threw it into the snow, between the casings and corpses. The first shallow proof of their team''s worth. - Black, Becker, gather the rest near the campfire. - Dirk ordered. - We need to reform, regroup and review our observations. - Youve got it. - Becker took a few deep breaths before heading out towards the smoldering corpses. - What? What for? - Black didnt hide his confusion. - We quartered them like cattle! - No, we didnt. - Dirk stopped and turned around. Cold air seemed to have followed his movement. Like a cold, tantalizing touch of death yet unseen, but always present, waiting... - Michaels judgment is sound. More are coming and those will be much better prepared. - the message was grim, but Dirk''s expression didn''t match it at all. - Ha. - Black changed his tune instantly as he locked eyes with Dirk. - To hell with those dogs. I knew that my hunch was right. - Black responded, now with fervor. - There really is something to you. Both the old men smiled at each other with a glint in their eyes that could only be described as manic excitement. A thrill for an upcoming battle swelled within them. - Were kindred spirits. You and I. - the unkempt merc chuckled before heading out to help Elephant out of the snow. As Dirk headed towards the fire pit, a machine of giant proportions fell beside him with a thud, but even it couldn''t make him flinch now, let alone stop him. - So you found a fellow pensioner to bond with? How sweet. - Barbara said, before joining him in his stroll. - You two gonna have bingo nights once were back on the road? - Maybe we should, it would be a nice change of pace to all the poker. - Dirk responded swiftly. - Somebody caught a second wind. - A few worries I had have simply been dispelled, nothing more. - he stopped for a spell and turned towards the cockpit of the walker, now caked in frozen blood. - Have you seen Argonaut? I gave him explicit orders to guard the camp. - I saw him last south of the camp, roaring there alone. Nobody else really wanted to join him for some reason. - she pointed with her oversized limb. So he did his job. That was all that mattered. It showed that despite the lack of directions, the boy could keep his head in the game. If the other mercs could afford to entirely avoid his flank, then then it meant that Jason covered their flank perfectly. Just as Dirk thought about it, the crackling flames rose from the pit, their light illuminating a resting figure on the snowy ground. Its large chest raised up and down like a bellow. - There you are. - he didnt even hide his smile. - If you were only half as reliable as my weapon, Garuda. - And youre mean again. - Polluxs megaphone crackled. - Here I hoped that all that vigor would translate to you not being bitter for a few hours. - There are more important things to do at the moment and Ill need your cooperation to pull it off. Youre in or out? Dirk looked directly at the machine. In response she raised one of the mech''s arms and scratched at the layer of blood on its surface a few times in a clumsy attempt to make herself more presentable. - Do you even have to ask? As long as I get to fight I rarely care who it is against, man. Just point at our targets. - It''s not about fighting, but you''ll know when to jump in. - he said rather cryptically in a hushed tone, keeping it between him and Barbara. - A lady not only beautiful but strong and fearless. At this rate I might fall for you Miss Prusk. - Michael approached them with a belly laugh and the Three Stooges in tow, none the wiser to Dirk''s words. - So the dog came back to its master too? - Match murmured. From behind them approached Black and Elephant. The latter, somewhat ashamed, judging from her clammed-up posture. Seeing the squad assembled, Dirk clapped his hands, getting everyone''s attention. There was an aura of pride filling the camp, mixed with the lingering adrenaline-high of first blood. A cause for concern, perhaps, as pride made people careless, Dirk knew that from experience... But also a one of a kind occasion to rouse his troops and give this latent energy a proper direction. If there ever was an opportunity for a leaderly speech to assert his position, it was now. - Ladies and gentlemen, I commend you for surviving. Some took the joke in stride, others frowned, but the response was high-spirited and thats what mattered to him at the moment. Keeping the morale up was paramount in the situation. Dirk grabbed a wood from his sack and tossed it into the fire, making it soar. - Unfortunately what you faced off against was only a vanguard. - before anyone could interrupt him, he raised his arm. - I''m sure you''ve seen it, but they approached us strategically, only striking when the moment was ripe. They are no mere beasts. Their intellect? Unknown. Another piece of wood, another burst of flames. Dirk didnt flinch. - Their motivations? Unimportant. They want us dead by means of tooth and claw. Thats all there is to it. - he oversimplified ten times over, but managed to sell the lie, almost believing it himself. Of course there had to be more to it, but now wasn''t the time for investigation. - They are strong and agile, but even they cannot outrun bullets. Keep your distance and keep shooting. That''s the way. His eyes moved towards one of the carcasses, the gazes of his fellow mercs following suit. - Which means that this isnt a mere stand for survival, or a desperate defence. No. If you want to, you can make it into a safari. The Three Stooges chuckled, the message visibly resonating with their youthful need to prove themselves, even if Ted acted reluctant. Dirk started pacing in the fire''s light. - But like on every safari, there must be rules, so that none of you lose your fingers to a lions bite. I know those rules by heart, so you better listen closely as I guide you through them. So I ask you this: Are you with me? - he glanced at Barbara and she didn''t hesitate for a moment - Hell yeah! - she roared, rising a metal fist, and the others followed, caught up in the moment. Dirk''s little ploy went without a hitch. His feverish gaze turned towards Ted first. - You already know where you sit, dont you? - Dont be so fucking smug. - Ted brandished his LMG, ever defiant, but Dirk could feel his full attention on him now, now even more so than at that moment deep in the woods. But despite the vigor, there was also a sore note of defeat in the troublemaker''s voice. He got his warning, and Dirk prayed it would end with that. Without much flare, he moved to the crow''s nest atop their truck. - Armistice. - Dirk moved on to another man on his mental list. - Am I to check up on everyones wounds just to be sure? - the man asked, his expression that of knowing anticipation. He was a professional through and through, so Dirk didn''t need to tell him what to do, but did anyway for consistency''s sake. - Take Elephant with you, and pay extra attention to everyones radiation levels while youre at it. You have potassium iodide tablets on you? - Who do you take me for? - the medic got off the ground with an exhale. Elephant began fumbling around her pouches, following orders without any buts or retorts. - Garuda. - Whats cookin good lookin? - machine answered. - Can you gather all the corpses and make a mound of them on top of Matchs handiwork? - Okay, but why? - Theres no way they will attack again from the same side, but just to make sure, a giant pyre of their dead should dissuade them from attacking there. - Dirk began to explain, some more unsavory memories from the past flashing before his eyes. "It always comes down to the pyres here in Russia" - he thought to himself, before being brought back to the ground. - Youre starting to talk like were fighting against human beings. - Match let himself be known with another snide comment. - S-studies show that most pack animals show emotional responses when other predators tamper w-with corpses of their deceased pack-mates. - Elephant spoke for the first time since Dirk arrived. Despite her words being nothing more than statistics it was something that Match had no retort to, so he simply shot her a glare. - I hope that what Elephant said answered your question. - Sure did mine, lets do it. - Barbara cut the chit-chat short, knowing all she needed. She grabbed two corpses near her and proceeded to walk, other mercs getting out of the stomping giant''s way. - The rest of you can take this time to restock and take positions, maybe catch a breath or two. - Dirk finished his impromptu presentation. - Where are we supposed to stand? - Spoon asked an important question. - Were burning corpses up north, east and north-east are secured. So are we forming a line on the west side of the camp or the south? - The south. Before you ask why, the answer lies before you. - Dirk smiled. Spoon, unlike his other companions, appeared to be quite sharp as he immediately understood what the old soldier meant and looked towards the inert regenerator. - The south was defended by a single entity in a way they knew. With sheer, wild brutality. - Spoon spoke his conclusions aloud, probably for the sake of his friends. - They tired him out, so they will now aim for the assumed weak point that well reinforce and break them over. Dirk nodded slightly. If Spoon wasnt with the other two, hed perhaps be quite a promising diamond in the rough when it came to being a soldier. For shame. - Alls clear? - he scanned the group, his mind battle-ready. Volume 2 Chapter 6 - Examination The night had entered its darkest and coldest hours, but with the flame rekindled with what little wood Dirk had managed to gather before the creatures attacked, the Scout Unit stood a real chance of surviving until dawn. It was no time for relaxation, however, as the looming threat of another attack was becoming more and more real with each passing minute. Movements in the dark, just at the edge of the perimeter stirred unease among the mercenaries as the work on the pyre progressed. Wild wails pierced the cold dark, chilling and animalistic. A testament to the effectiveness of Dirks idea. The things, mutated as they were, really didnt like seeing their packmates being found onto a mound, stacked like trash. There were a few shots in the dark as the more skilled shooters took their chances at potential picks, but none flew true, hitting snow and dirt alike. The moods were tense, but with a threat clear and palpable, the Scouts managed to finally get their act together, working fast and paying attention to their surroundings for once. Dirk just wished it had happened sooner. As the last of the corpses found its way to its final destination, Dirk spared a glance at the creatures, now from up close, making use of the lights all around. They were disgusting. Malformed and malnourished, they resembled wolves, but skinned by an amateur. Muscle fibers glistened salmon-pink in the chemlights, speckled by an occasional tuft of rough, gray fur. It was a wonder how those creatures managed to survive the cold with this little insulation. Dirk turned one over with his foot, examining the body in detail with a kind of professional curiosity. He wasnt much of a biologist, but searching for weak and vulnerable spots fell right into his field of expertise. Where he expected to meet soft flesh with the tip of his boot, the body responded with a sort of hollow feeling. Squinting his eyes, Dirk pulled out his knife and, in one decisive thrust, plunged the blade into the corpse. The resistance was surprising. It was something one couldnt really get a feel for by fighting from a distance. The thing had a sort of outer, calloused fleshy shell around its body, which, as vulnerable as it looked from the outside, proved to be actually very resistant to shallow cuts and blunt force trauma. Perhaps it was a good insulator, too, but Dirk was now less interested in that aspect of the monstrous hide. He traced the cold carcass with a finger, pressing in a few spots in a practiced motion, feeling out the muscles, bones and cartilage in spots he suspected as weak spots. His worries quickly proved justified, as he realized that most of them were well guarded against attacks. Places such as the throat and the surrounding arteries were thick and hard to pierce. The solar plexus and the surrounding areas proved even more formidable, guarding the internal organs well against fangs, claws, and unfortunately for Dirks group, small blades. In all likeliness, very few animals could stand against this creature, let alone a whole pack of them. Letting one get close could prove fatal on its own, and letting one pin you to the ground would almost certainly be a guaranteed death sentence, if not for the one chink in the things armor that Dirk managed to find during his search. Next to the ear, where the jaw met the skull, the fleshy hide was weak, and the bone thin, potentially allowing for a swift kill in a pinch, but at a great risk. He hoped it wouldnt come to that - Youll catch something if you play with corpses. - a male voice pulled Dirk out of his mind palace. It was Match with his uncanny weapon in hand. - Found something interesting? - Just getting to know the enemy. - he answered back, standing up from a crouch. He gave the young man a meaningful look, as if answering a question yet unasked. The air got heavy, and Match seemed to catch Dirks drift. - What did he do this time? - he asked in a sort of tired but entirely unsurprised tone. - Thats between Ted and me, but know this: My patience is running thin. That was his one and only strike, but I dont think he got the message. - Hes just an idiot. Cut him some slack. - Hes going beyond mere idiocy here. - Dirks eyes were cold, but Match could swear they were burning a hole in him. - I can see that you are good friends, but I can also see that theres not enough brains between you three to make up for Teds deficit. - the old vet stepped up to Match and met his gaze from above, being a little taller, exuding enough pressure to break most civilians, but the young one stood firm, even if a glint of hesitation in his eyes betrayed him. - Cherish that friendship, but rein him in. - he said, pressing something into the boys hand. It was a knife. - What the fuck, old man? - match took a step back, holding the knife out in front of himself in a sort of disgusted disbelief. - I wontC - Hold it firmly and come over. I will show you something. - Dirk shot back, stepping back to the pile of carcasses, pulling a relatively intact one to the front. - Uh - Match fumbled to find any words, the foreign weight of the blade sending his mind racing. - Youre a mid-to-close-range fighter with a cumbersome weapon. You must know how to defend yourself if something slips by and attacks you directly. - I can handleC - Were on a schedule here. - Dirk disregarded the young mans words completely, hurrying him along with an imperious note in his voice, like a drill sergeant speaking to a private. - Your three practice stabs just turned into two. You can keep yapping, but you wont get a proper feel with just one. Match groaned, shifted in place and came forward all in one swift motion, as if put under a spell. Whether it was Chernobogs authority, or the lads own curiosity, he budged, and Dirk didnt miss a beat. Grabbing the corpse by the scruff of its neck, he flung the cold bag of flesh and bones onto Match, who in a moment of panic yelped and fell over onto his back, scrambling to free himself from under the beast. - Wrong! You already died. - Dirk announced all too seriously, his face stern and calculating. - Defend yourself, you have one stab to save your life! - he continued, prodding the slack corpse with his foot, making it flail around on top of the guy. - Fucking hell! - Match exclaimed, moving the dead things toothy maw away from his own face and stabbing it in a clouded-over eye, only for it to come down on him with retribution as Dirk pushed harder. - Wrong again! Its still alive, and you just made it angrier! - Dirks tone was serious, but it almost seemed like he was having fun. - Guh! - with the weight of another shove added to the already heavy corpse, Match got the wind knocked out of him, then stabbed again at the throat, only for the knife to sink in at an awkward angle, missing the vitals. - Three times dead. Youre out! - the words rang out like a round-ends bell, and the skinless wolf slumped to the ground, freeing the young lad, who scrambled to his feet with a greedy gasp. - Youre crazy! - Match accused, staggering, but Dirk didnt care. - Watch this. - he grabbed the oversized dogs head with his bare hand and applied pressure at just the right spot he found earlier. With a sickening crunch, his thumb sank into the things skull. - This is where you have to aim. - How was I supposed to know that?! - You werent. But now you do, and you wont forget. - the soldier admitted smugly, wiping his hand on the snow, ready to leave, but seeing Match all flustered and also ready to bail, he stopped him for a moment. - Before you scoot, be so kind and light the pyre. - Man, fuck you. - Teach the trick to your buddies, too. I didnt patent it yet, so I wont charge you royalties. The flash of fire from the nozzle of the lads weapon was immediate, brief and incredibly destructive. A puff of barely visible chemical flame flew through the air like a projectile, and the whole mound caught ablaze almost immediately as it made contact, making Dirk raise his brows in barely concealed amazement. Hed never seen anything like that in his long years of service, but even then, a few potential applications came to mind almost instantly. Before he could prod for some info, though, the owner of the weapon grumpily took his leave. For shame. Dirks time alone was brief, however, as heavy mechanical steps coming from behind him announced the arrival of one mech pilot, all too eager to spill some senseless drivel. - Why are you bullying the little guy? - Barbara asked through the loudspeaker, its volume thankfully adjusted for a relatively candid conversation. - Hes not exactly little, you know? - From up here, you all seem little to me. - she admitted, her voice dripping with coy pride. - Compensating for something, little lady? - Dirk ribbed, remembering how Barbara fumed the last time she was called that, and the results didnt disappoint. - Im so gonna squash you. - Ill get to dismantle your toy sooner than expected, then. I wonder which one of the 307 structural weaknesses I should exploit first? - Wait, what? That many? Are you serious? No freaking way! - the womans tone flipped on a dime, her love, maybe even unhealthy fixation for her machine painfully apparent. - Where, you old liar? Point to ONE! - No freebies, Garuda. Score some kills in the next hour, and if nobody dies, Ill consider sharing a few pointers. - Ugh! - she spelled out the onomatopoeia like in some comedy skit about rebellious teenagers, which actually made Dirk crack a brief smirk. A long time ago, Jason did a similar thing once, speaking certain sounds and grunts from comic books that Dirk had smuggled into his subject cell on occasions. He didnt know what they meant then, just that the weird words on the pages corresponded to some vague emotions he didnt have a grasp on yet. - Fine, whatever. So again, was the corpse-humping necessary? - No, but it was funny. - Dirk let it slip, his mood suddenly and inexplicably lifted. - Wow! So there is a soul somewhere in that March of Tin Soldiers: Volume II - Electrolysis body of yours! Somewhere very, very deep, but its there! - Oh, please, spare me the ridicule. Isnt teaching others invaluable, life-saving maneuvers enough proof of my good will? - Maybe if you let the sun shine through that dark, cloudy sky of yours more often, then youd get better results. What you do is only half the battle. You have a lot of work to do concerning the how. - What a profound thought. Did you glean that from a fortune cookie? If so, you might want to double-check with Michael. He apparently gets his kicks from reading labels. - Har-har. - Now off with you. This place wants us dead. Lets not make it easy for it. - he shooed the woman away, seeing another stray skirmisher zoom by at the edge of the lit area. The pack must have fully realized by now that they stood no chance in small numbers in the light, but their incessant movements could mean only one thing. That a new, bigger wave was coming. Dirk checked his magazines, took one last glance around to ensure that nothing was out of place in their defensive position, and then moved towards a more favorable position with images of the mutated creatures'' heads burned into the retina of his eye. Taking into consideration their line-up, he would be the only person that ever made use of that knowledge, realistically. As much as he wanted to believe in Matchs ability to perfectly stab a monster gnawing at him in a pinch, that''s not something one can learn in the matter of hours. If something ever topples the lithe man, passing through the wall of flames he commands, only the rush of adrenaline and sheer force of will could save him. But Dirk would rather focus on the positives. With Pollux stomping away, the old man was left alone with his thoughts as most of the mercs kept to their position like flies to dung. Which in itself was promising, albeit inflexible. He knew that some of them could easily change their engagement zones and firing lines on a dime, were it required, but at least half of those could hit another merc with a stray bullet during relocation. It was important to hold a firm and stable firing position when fortifying an area, but such textbook tactics only worked when fighting against human opponents also following those principles. Those beasts were a different story. Nothing to be done about that now - Dirk mused, observing the surrounding darkness, picking up glistening fangs and eyes. - They did manage to survive the previous assault, and back then their positioning was less than ideal. Those new positions will have to compensate for their potential shortcomings. That was not to mention that Garuda, Jason and him would be a trio of linchpins holding their defensive line together if the need arose. - S-Sir, I mean Chernobog.- that wasnt the voice he was expecting to hear. The old soldier turned around to see Elephant trudging through the snow. Correction, he didnt expect to see her on her own, without Armistice. But on the other hand, Dirk wasnt really paying attention to how much time has passed since those two went on radiation sickness prevention duty. Time moved differently for him in situations like the one they found themselves in. It passed so slowly. Seeing every second stretched into frames saved him many times, but when danger was lurking at the edge of his vision It was excruciating. Elephants slow strut through the snow certainly didn''t help. - What is it Elephant? Were my instructions unclear? - he asked, somewhat dejectedly, prepared for a pointless conversation. - Your dose. - she extended an armored glove towards him. It looked a bit like a misshapen claw. Only the trigger finger and thumb were separated, the remaining three fingers were stuck in the same sturdy sleeve together. Within the palm of said hand a few snowflakes and a shiny blister with two small tablets inside. They made short work of the assignment, it would seem. Dirk was positively surprised, which must have shown on his face, as Elephant''s stature seemed to have somewhat improved after looking at his face. Hope it doesnt get to her head - the grumpy man thought while pushing the tablets out of their protective, plastic compartments and gulping them down. - Ah! - Elephant exclaimed. - Something happened? - Water, I brought water. - there was indeed a small canteen in her other hand that the soldier didnt notice. - Save it for a more urgent situation than someone swallowing pills. - Dirk smiled coyly, but he couldnt measure a response from the woman''s mask. - Permission to speak frankly? Thats new - Dirk couldnt help but raise his eyebrow. - Permission granted. - That statement was juvenile, sir. - suddenly, a string of confidence plinked within the sheepish voice of the armored mercenary. - Prescriptions for medicine exist to help the patients and are meant to be followed, thats why liquids are recommended to push the tablets after swallowing them. - Cant disagree with that. - Dirk chimed. - What would happen if by some stroke of bad luck you started choking, Sir? - Thats a hypothetical scenario. - Possibility calculation is part of many different paths of life. Doing it is beneficial, just like natural instinct, it can dissuade one from taking a route bearing more risks than benefits. - her spiel told Dirk more about her than she probably realized, but he couldnt fully disagree with the message peddled to him. Though he certainly could feel somewhat miffed. Being schooled by the most sheepish member of their squad. - So I implore you, Chernobog, for the future, do not take needless risks. The old man was about to open his mouth and interrupt the speaker with a soliloquy on the benefits of being a risk-taker and the experience that he held, which allowed him to minimize danger that could befall himC - You are the de-facto leader of our group, we rely on your guidance. Some more than others. - What? You dont know how to perform first aid on a person whos choking? - I-I do. - after a moment of cold professionalism she stumbled back into uncertainty. - But there will be moments without me or Armistice present, sir. Youre paramount to our success, be it as it may. Dirk wanted to snap back with they would figure something out, but would they? Would people like Ted be even willing to save his life? Or would he just watch him choke, taking into consideration the shit the guy pulled in the forest. His enthusiasm and energy reserves restored not so long ago were starting to rapidly dwindle by just thinking about it. As much as he was able to find common ground with Black and Michael they havent shown him enough to dub them reliable assets at this point in time. He knew too little about them. Only two people he put any stock in when it came to survival and combat reliability were Jason and Barbara, the latter one, with a heavy heart. But as things stood, at face value, that duo would survive anything the frozen tundra could throw at them, making them the most reliable assets, after himself. But both of them worked the best when part of the vanguard, in places that he himself wouldnt frequent during an ongoing battle. So there was no helping it. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. - Very well Elephant, Ill take your grievance into consideration. - he had to agree. - Am I correctly assuming that all the other team members received their dosage? - Almost. - she answered, and Dirk frowned slightly, hearing her words. - I-I couldnt catch up to Miss Garuda yet, and I do not have enough information to decide on a dosage for A-Argonaut. - Then you can consider your orders completed. - Why? I can still- - You running after Garuda would only needlessly tire you out, taking into consideration your heavy suit and the rough terrain. - the man began to explain while glancing around. - Plus, opening Polluxs sarcophagus at this critical moment could potentially result in the enemy targeting the exposed pilot. We dont know if they possess range capabilities, but it is safer to assume they do to some primitive extent. - O-Oh. - even though her face was invisible through the visor of her suit, Dirk could tell she already sounded a bit overwhelmed. - When it comes to Argonaut, he doesnt require the anti-radiation medication. Tissue of regenerators is cancerous by nature, radiation doesnt affect them like normal living creatures. If it ever did, then it would mean that the regeneration core has been breached and damaged by another foreign particle that allowed radiation to alter their form. At least thats what Jason told him long ago while they were out drinking. Before it became a terrible habit. - If thats all, go and take a favorable defensive position. My advice? Near some other merc, one preferably skilled in close quarters. - with that, he began to turn around. But it looked to him as if Elephant had something else to add, but she struggled to say it out loud. - What is it? - approaching this woman reminded him how young Jason used to talk. - Umm, that information on regenerators, c-could you share it with me once f-fighting subsides? I mean, mean, when we win, sir? Id like to note it down. With each word that left her mouth, the image of Elephant before she became a mercenary became sharper. So not an Empire researcher during Chrysoss tenure, she would have known much more about regenerators than me - Dirk thought. - Desire to take notes shows that thirst for knowledge seen in either those fresh outta collage or those who left some old-life project unfinished. The accent doesnt point towards Kintsugi descent, so either someone from the south of the sphere or the Empire, but under DeusC - S-Sir? I-is that a no? - Sorry, I was listening in on the sounds of the wind. - the old dog didnt notice how long he left her hanging with that question. - Sure, once we get back on the road during beacon placing. - Of course, thank you very much, sir! - her joy was palpable. After that, she did a sloppy salute and ran off to find her advised team-mate. She was an enigma to Dirk, to say the least. Probably the least problematic soldier of all those within his truck, but her demeanor was proof that hell never be able to dub her a reliable asset. At least not in combat situations. Maybe I should ask her to take a look at those animal carcasses after we fend off the next wave? - wind started picking up, howling louder and louder. - Maybe they taught her something at college that could give us a slight edge over those beasts. That was when he heard it. The sound carried by the wind. It wasnt just its howl, it was something else, barely audible pitter-patter. Like hundreds of droplets hitting the ground, but there was no rain trailing the falling flakes. - Enemy attack! Safeties off, fire at will! - he roared through the wind to those that could hear him and to those that couldnt He grabbed his prized Makarov and fired into the air. That should be loud enough. The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion as all hell broke loose. Teeth and claws flashed in the night as the monsters suddenly transgressed into the circle of light, like demons called from the depths of hell. They bore in their bottomless-black eyes the unquenchable thirst for blood seldom seen in mere predators. Five, ten, twenty of them appeared in seconds, with more to come, moving wildly and unpredictably, surging forwards and trying to penetrate the mercs defenses before they could react, but just as quickly as their ranks swelled, they got culled with unforgiving precision and sheer, brutal strength. With Jason temporarily out of commission, their only frontline was Barbara, but it did not even remotely faze the hardy pilot as her machine kicked into higher gear. Pollux activated its thruster on minimal output, so as not to kick up a snow-screen on the battlefield, and intercepted the ones that survived the initial volley. It crashed into the blob of flesh and teeth in a spray of bloody mist, then deftly unlocked its joints and crushed underfoot those beasts too slow or too dazed to escape. The ones that did, however, had a nasty surprise ready. The flesh hounds, three of them, avoided death by the skin of their teeth, but instead of scouring back, pressed the attack in an unrelenting display of speed and agility. Snaking between and around the suits feet, they surrounded it and jumped onto its back, where its limbs could not reach them, searching for a weak-spot to sink their teeth in. An impressive display. One, however, cut short by a burst of superheated air released from the steel colossus body. Two of the three identified targets got launched off the mech in an instant, boiled alive in a fraction of a second, and almost cut in half by pressurized air. The third, annihilated in that same moment by a precise bullet to the head. Their bodies fell limply to the ground, only to be crushed by the back-stepping titan. Their deaths a mere after-thought as Barbara assumed a battle-ready position, clanging the suits limbs together, taunting their enemies to come freely. - Leave the strays to me. Focus on whats in front. - Blacks voice crackled on the radio waves as he claimed the kill in a roundabout way. - Thanks, gramps. - Dont call me that! - he snapped back, sending another bullet under the machines armpit, wounding the next target in the leg. He must have assembled himself some kind of precision rifle With another handful dead within seconds, something stirred within the horde, and the mutants retreated once more at the snap of a finger. Just like that, silence abruptly returned, almost fooling one to believe that nothing happened, if not for the bodies. - Whu? Thats it? Come on! I didnt even get to really get into the rhythm! - Barbara pouted, audibly disappointed. - Dont let your guard down! - Dirk commanded, scanning the blood-soaked clearing. Something was amiss. Some crucial detail. For all the bestial unpredictability, this attack seemed rushed. Foolish. Almost wasteful, in a paradoxically intelligent way. The pitter-patter grew stronger and more pronounced, more distracting, almost making Dirk fumble, gnawing at the back of his mind as another wave of enemies emerged. This time, however, they were different. The horde no longer rushed in mindlessly, but split into erratic formations, dodging gunfire and making Barbara choose where to engage. Dirk cursed under his breath, his voice drowned out by the roar of thrusters. The subtle change in the animals behavior did not go over Dirks head, almost certainly confirming his worries. There was something at play here. A hand in the dark, sending its pieces onto the board. - Garuda, keep Pollux mobile! - Dirk barked, his voice steady despite the chaos. - Theyre probing us! - Aye! - she shot back, pummeling another hound into the ground. Her thrusters fired again, sending the hulking mass of steel sliding across the snow, only to be ambushed by predators lying in wait below the snowy coat. They leapt as one, this time aiming for joints, but the suit twisted at its midsection, swatting away the assailants with redoubled strength. The metal arm rang out with each impact like a gong to a melody of broken bones and torn tendons. But this, too, wasnt enough to stop the tide as more and more of the irradiated abominations slipped by, capitalizing on the gaps in the mercs reloads, the drum of their feet a deadly reminder of their speed and numbers. - Watch your flanks! - another command rang out as Dirk sent two precise shots into the encroaching pack. He had no hopes of piercing the monsters vitals through their armor-like hides, but he made the best of a bad situation. The bullets flew true, hitting the joints of the beast at the front, bringing it to the ground, making the whole formation trip and fall over each other. - Dont mind if I do! - Spoon called out with a mischievous note in his voice, a split-second before an explosion made short work of the clump. Ted held the other flank with suppressive fire, but even his gun was bound to run dry, and then the real trial was going to start. Or so Dirk thought. Before he could say anything, as if in response to his thoughts, Ted bellowed at the top of his lungs. - Three Two One NOW! - the rhythmic roar of his gun stopped perfectly on signal, as Ted unlocked the reloading mechanism to the clatter of an empty mag. - Ive got you! - Match stepped forwards seamlessly, putting a wall of living fire between them and the hounds, singeing their leathery skin, but mostly acting as a deterrent. In a cacophony of snarls and yips, the whole group turned tail, giving Ted the window to reload his gun. Perhaps the Three Stooges had potential after all. If only they werent such a pain to deal with. But there was no time for begrudging acknowledgements as the battle raged on. The killcount had to be in the twenties now, but for every hound slain or escaped, two more materialized from the snowy abyss in an incessant assault, spilling out like water from a broken dam. Elephant ducked in a panic as a couple of the creatures penetrated their defenses, slipping under the hailstorm of bullets. Their flight was cut short, however, by Michaels bulk as the man swatted one of them out of the air with the butt of his shotgun, putting it down with one shot to the head, then caught the other by the throat in an impressive display of strength and reflex as it leapt for him and eviscerated it, point-blank. - Ive got you, Ive got you. - Michael panted, obviously a little shaken by the close call, wiping some splatters off his face. - I-Im sorry, IC - Relax. Deep breaths. - he reassured her, extending a hand. Elsewhere, Pollux was slowly disappearing under a mound of flesh as dozens of hounds threw themselves at the metal giant, swarming the mech like a throng of agitated ants, impairing vision, most important of all. Barbara did her best to throw them off, though her superheated air reserves had long run dry. Black aided her to the best of his abilities, but his weapon simply could not stand up to the sheer volume of meat that kept piling up on her. Even though the machines metal armor proved impenetrable to the natural weapons of the hounds, Polluxs battle efficiency was plummeting by the minute, as evident by the increasing numbers of monsters that slipped by. - Garuda, how are you holding up? - Dirk checked in, his tone demanding an immediate answer. - I can hold them off forever, but my killing potential dropped to shit here. - she stated the obvious with a bitter note of frustration in her voice. The chaos made it hard to think, and with the incessant droning in Dirks ears, it was almost impossible, but he didnt have the luxury of being indecisive. Not now. Not ever. If their firepower dipped any lower, it would spell their end. The dogs were adapting, too, the cries of their deaths getting sparser and sparser as they dodged and weaved, dipping in and out of the light, playing with them. Cmon Jason. How much longer do you need? - he thought to himself, gritting his teeth, glancing at the dormant regenerator. What was supposed to be a quick rest turned out to be something much more pressing. Dirk squeezed the gun in his hand tight, finding little relief through the pain as regret gnawed at his mind. He neglected to check in on him in time, and they were all paying the price now. - Head back to the group. We have to scrape that filth off you. - he commanded on the radio. - Ill take care of them. - Match volunteered with an unnerving chuckle, his sights already set on the mech, but was quickly shut down by Barbara herself. - And cook me to death? Im already boiling here, dont need an additional coat of liquid flame on my ass, god dammit. - Fine then, you ungrateful bitch. Drown in the meat-pile, see if I care. - he scoffed back. - Yeah, you tell her. - Ted cackled, starting another round of his spray and pray routine. - Hey! You wanna scrap, smartass? Then lets scrap. The dogs can wait. - she huffed, tossing one of the dogs flying towards Ted, its mangled carcass slamming against the truck and rocking the mercenary on it from side to side. - Focus, fools! Dont break the formation! - Dirk yelled into the radio, laying dead another dog that slipped dangerously close to the group, his tactical sense going all kinds of haywire. They were losing ground, and fast. - Cant you wake your fucking dog up already? Were getting fucked here! - Ted growled, angry and frustrated to have to rely on Argonaut. Dirk was ready to snap back with all the bile he was holding back till now, until he caught something in the corner of his eye, off in the distance. A faint, green light in the depths of inky darkness. Growing, consuming the black void and bathing it in the emerald hue. Somewhere within it, something sinister stared back at the old soldier. Two putrid black orbs. What if the monsters didnt need to take the metal giant down themselves. What if they just had to hold it down long enough for something else to strike. A pit formed in Dirks stomach as his eyes grew large with realization. - I dont care how you do it, Match. Just free Garuda, now! - Dirk roared with newfound urgency, his voice almost drowned out by the full on metallic buzz that now flooded the battlefield. His own bullets whizzed through the air, hitting the fleshy coat hanging heavily from Pollux, but they did little more than sting the beasts. - Chernobog! Are you trying to kill me?! - Barbara accused the team leader in disbelief, but there was no time. - You heard the old man. I wish I could say its nothing personal, but you just piss me off, woman. - Match scoffed, and the fire started flowing like water from a hose. The beasts screeched in pain as the flames licked their flesh, but held on to the mech, powering through the pain. In seconds, however, their grips visibly weakened as the first ones succumbed to their injuries. Whatever Match was spraying, it burned hot, and so their margin of error to save Barbara was even slimmer than Dirk originally thought. He shot the weaker monsters, making them fall off like old scabs, but a gnawing feeling was eating away at his mind. What if it wasnt enough? He gritted his teeth, his vision betraying him for just a moment as it went blurry. Not now. - he growled to himself, his blood running cold as his fatigue finally started catching up to him, but his will to fight soared to new heights. He needed more firepower, his own wasnt enough, not when time was nabbing at their heels. Around him still were few others who could help, in theory at the very least. Just a quick glance told him that many were overwhelmed as it were by the wave of beasts. Michael was barely keeping up while helping Elephant whose weapon proved to be vastly underperforming in the closer-range combat situation. Ted and Spoon were faring much better, but their duo was the only efficient source of long-range support they had, forcing them to alter fire support lanes could cost them dearly. Each second of concentrated fire and cloud of shrapnel that reaped death within the snowy mist meant that at least a dozen mutated beasts weren''t jumping at their throats. So they were both out of the equation. Good doctor could certainly help but he wasnt around. Sounds of his bolt action rifle were audible, but his location remained elusive. Which meant that there was only one person left. He stood within the mist, firing something that approximated a Designated Marksman Rifle, but it lacked a long range scope and its magazine was side-fed. There were many corpses at his feet. Unlike Dirk the frail looking man avoided using anything but his firearms, each time a wild beast got too close he rolled to the side or ducked while still firing, his grip never left the weapon, not for a moment. It showed, as the barrel of the armament flashed white-hot in the snow, sending plumes of vapour to chase the howling wind. He found the linchpin. - Black! Finish off the one I mark! - he called out, sending a bullet through the night. It was a gamble in a way, calculated one, but nonetheless a dangerous bet. If the other man couldnt hear him through the battle craze or they werent on the similar wavelength, it could cost them Pollux. Still, if the words of the soldier he called out were to be trusted, they were kindred spirits. About time to put that kinship to a test. A small caliber bullet hit one of the beasts, it wasnt too accurate, one could even call it sloppy. Rare occurrence for Dirk. But it served a different purpose, it was a nail to a proverbial hammer. But would the blunt instrument respond to its call? In the middle of a deafening snowstorm and equally chaotic battle? Blood erupted from the hurt animal. A cascade of crimson in the raging inferno. The creature unlatched itself, rolling limp over its brethren. - Consider it done. - Black muttered on the radio with the satisfaction of a hunter aiming at his prey. He pulled the trigger and the next moment another hound fell dead, its demise marking the beginning of a chain reaction, as the other monsters just below it also fell to the ground, having lost their grip, uncovering Polluxs thrusters. - Dash away! - Dirk screamed into the radio, gripping it hard enough to almost crush it in his hand. He saw the jets light up and the titan shift, but it was too late. As the chittering buzz reached its crescendo, the rest of the hounds jumped away in unison, and an emerald arc of lightning reached out from the darkness, bent like a hooked talon ready to sink into flesh, striking Pollux in the shoulder. They all first bore witness to a flash, then they heard the sound. Like a horizontal thunder strike. The radio merely crackled and went silent as the machine fell to the ground. More teeth flashed at the edge of darkness. Merry Christmas 2024! Merry Christmas dear readers Jelly here, I am quite aware that some don''t celebrate Christmas across the world, but to those who do I give best wishes during this (hopefully) special time. May your presents be many and your family arguments few. Enjoy the break-time from shool, university or that daily grind. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. All the best, JellyThe Gentleman Yo, what''s up? All good, I hope. Monk here with the best holiday wishes. If you celebrate, Merry Christmas. If not, have fun and use the free time to your heart''s content. May these few days charge up your batteries for the coming year. All the best, Over and out. Volume 2 Chapter 7 - Pecking Order - Wakey, wakey Jason-boy. You wouldnt want to miss what happens next. He didnt want to. Its been so long since he experienced sleep. After all, his body never really tired the same way other living creatures did. It was a perpetually powered biological machine. Any wear and tear got rejuvenated almost instantly, and that also included his brain. So how did he actually fall asleep? - Yep, thats a pretty scene, if I may say so myself. Perfect to get that extra spring in your step. - the voice continued, mocking as always. Jason felt a twitch in his hand as reality slowly crystallized from a hazy mix of sounds and flashes. There was only one thing that could force his body to shut down like that. His co-pilot in this fleshy cage. That spiteful prick. Fleece, you bastard. - he thought, finally fighting off the drowsiness as he picked himself up, looking at the chaotic scenery before him as his vision cleared little by little. - Hey. You cant do all the work for those ungrateful goons, you know? If a lion endlessly protects its cubs, how will they learn to tear at a zebra with their own teeth? Thinking yourself a poet now? - his muscles finally started working, his blood resumed its flow. But he wasnt quite all there yet. - First at the school and nowC Jason should have realized sooner that Fleece was acting suspiciously docile for way too long. Even during his ride with Dirk, it was way too composed, only sometimes spilling his bile in a hushed tone, like a vicious mockery from another room. It was annoying, like a dripping tap in the middle of the night, but too calm, too composed compared to the never ending storm of vile madness that it filled their head with. It was a force of destruction, always chipping away at his sanity, day by day, hour by hour. It goaded him every waking hour, which was every single one of them, into committing the most heinous acts of violence imaginable. Provoked him, probing for any weakness that would make Jason go on a killing spree to satiate its own inexplicable lust for blood. It hated life itself and wanted it extinguished everywhere they went. The reason escaped Jason, but one thing was for certain. That this hate also extended to him. Why else would Fleece be so hellbent on making his life miserable? Why would it taint their mind with this wretched, primal pleasure whenever they killed? Whenever they feasted? There could only be one explanation. It was a parasite, and he was the hos to be spent, destroyed, both in body and mind. It craved violence in a way that words cannot describe, but it could be satiated, for a time. Whether it was Jason dishing out punishment, or receiving it, it didnt matter. There just had to be suffering, and enough of it to satisfy Fleeces whims, as inconsistent as they were. If Jason were to count the few measly pints of blood he spat out during the spar with Morozov and compare it to the battle with Barbaras mech, where his insides got turned to pulp, those two events were nowhere near comparable, yet Fleece went silent each time after but a few spiteful words of mockery. As if being a humongous regenerating mutant wasnt hard enough when trying to blend into human society, he also had to constantly worry about this nagging voice messing with his mind every single day of his life. Everyone had a breaking point, and Jason sometimes wondered when his would come. What the hell am I thinking about? - he couldnt help but wonder. His head felt like it went through a blender. He was trying to get up from this induced sleep, so why did his mind wander into this pointless reminiscence? - He must have messed with me more than I initially thought. - Raising from the dead while your engine is cold will always take some time. - Fleece responded, not even to his thoughts, but vague feelings of confusion. - But dont worry, what youre about to see is bound to warm you up some. Yes Its like fine alcohol. So intoxicating. Jason felt a pit form in his stomach. That could only mean one thing, that something went terribly wrong during the defense. All Jason could do was cuss in his own mind as seconds stretched into weeks. Stop impeding the process, you motherfucker. - Shouldnt have let your head go empty while butchering those dogs. You fell into a routine and I caught you lacking, the rest is history. Im not falling for this victim-blaming of yours. - Victim? Victim?! You truly make a fucking mockery of what you have. Youve been granted the body of a wolf, yet you try to mingle with sheepC Jason nipped Fleeces pointless tirade in a bud, making a conscious effort to ignore it. The tugging feeling of worry in his heart serving as an extra effective motivator to get back to action quickly, without any more needless distractions. He didnt worry about Dirk, though. No. After all, he probably had the highest chance of survival. But there were others. The members of their group. Jason hesitated to call them friends, but hed grown fond of them in the little amount of time he had the chance to listen in on their conversations over the radio. Hed hate to see them gone, he didnt need to think about that twice. He wanted to protect them, even the prickly ones. But to do that, he needed to be able to move. If only his body was in a working condition, then he could easily move and protect their exposed flanks. Hed make a distraction, become the bait to get them easy shots, if need be. No matter how much machinery, armor and training they tried to clad themselves in, their lives were frail, after all. Dirk himself reminded him of that not long ago, and Jason would not soon forget those words. That was his duty, but also his desire. He couldnt bear the pain of having one of them die when he could have done something to help them. Suddenly, it felt as if a thousand ants ran over Jasons nervous system, prickling him fully awake, his body working with and against him all at once. It made him clench his teeth until they threatened to crack, his vision jolting into a perfect resolution. This was it, back in the saddle. - Its rude to ignore me like that. I hope you enjoy smelling the ashes, Jason-boy. At that moment, every single fiber of his muscle mass contracted, limbs moving on their own, bouncing him off the snow into an upright position, like a vampire rising from its coffin. Fighting against the overbearing onslaught of stimuli, the regenerator forced his brain into a deadly tempo, quickly searching for the most important spot within the outpost. The image he saw made his blood run cold. Across the snowy landscape, arcs of green lightning danced from corpse to corpse, making the dead hounds twitch and jump. An aftereffect of a recent energy discharge. They flickered and flashed erratically, yet in the chaos Jason found a pattern, and it led back to one thing. Amidst the carcasses, a giant hunk of steel lied in the snow, toppled over, with a plume of smoke rising from one of its limbs, tongues of living flame scorching its surface in spots. - Told you. Unforgettable view, right-o? Maybe there wont be a need for a rematch? - Fleece cackled as Jasons eyes grew wide with disbelief. Without delay, he ran towards the toppled Pollux on all fours like a beast, his gaze stuck on the machine as more monsters converged on its location, ready to drown it in a flesh pile. Some tried to intercept him, but he had no time to waste for them. He ignored them as they sank their teeth into his flesh and grabbed onto his back with their claws, uselessly dangling from the unstoppable locomotive of pure muscle that was his body. As the monsters piled on, they gnawed with unnatural tenacity, struck with clear confusion at the regenerators prodigious resilience. Each second, the number of wounds increased exponentially, as if the hounds were trying to overwhelm Jason with chip damage. Foolishly so. He felt nothing, even as he crushed his own shoulder capsules to fling both arms like whips around him, hitting all the hanging monsters and crushing their skulls into fine mist against his steel-hard back. As his destination drew closer, he sprung into an upright position to free both hands. Barbara was probably still within the machine, unable to get out, and Jason was the only one who could help her. The others were too busy staying alive to give her a hand, their focus solely on their next target. As he closed in at a break-neck speed, he saw some of that focus break, replaced by fear and astonishment at his sudden arrival, but the battle raged on. There was no time for offhand comments, as bullets shredded the air. Jason was ready to tear the mechs cockpit open if it meant saving the woman inside, but just as he was about to pounce, something stirred within the machine. - What the fuck was that?! - Barbaras voice crackled on the radio as her machine stumbled to its feet. - Since when do dogs fire laser beams? Her tone was loud and speech clear, but that could be attributed to adrenaline, as it also betrayed a labored note. She was panting heavily. Between the machines naturally elevated temperature and the fresh coat of flames on its chassis, the cockpit must have felt like the inside of the oven. - Energy discharges, not laser beams. - a familiar voice corrected her, each word punctuated by a shot. - But Argonauts back online. That thing wont get another shot in. - Really? - engaging in a hellish melee against the attackers, Barbaras machine swung its smoking limb, swatting a pack of pouncing mutants away, but leaving itself open for a quick follow-up attack. One quickly shut down by Jason. - Oh shit, look who woke up. Had a good nap? - she called out as her coffin finally faced Jason Now having a good look up-close, Jason was relieved to see that the damage to Pollux was contained mostly to its left shoulder. The beam melted most of the armor there to slag, leaving a nasty-looking gash, from which sparks flew freely, but that seemed to be the worst of it. The other damage, dents and scratches, were mostly superficial - Damage report? - Dirk yelled towards Garuda, stuck in a mortal dance with another hound, before its brains got splattered with an accurate shot from Black. - Left arm upper servo is dislocated. The stabilizers within are shot to hell. - she spoke as she fought, impaling another group of three with her undamaged arm. - I can still swing it, but no fire support until I replace it, recoil will fuck it up even further. - Do you need to retreat? - Screw that! Ill manage! But enough about me. Who the hell shot that beam? We cant be fighting just animals, right Dirks answer got stuck in his throat as his magazine ran dry in the midst of a fight. Sensing an opening, the three hounds closest to him dashed in, ready to perform a takedown on the old vet, but he didnt even need to think as his hand went for his backup. He brandished the hatched, ready to swing, but before he could even tense his muscles, a massive blur crossed his vision, and the hounds were gone. There was the backup Dirk could count on. Jason with his perfect reaction. Like a wrecking ball, he crashed into the beasts, tumbling with them to the side, engaging them in what could only be described as a chaotic tussle. The creatures bit and clawed, tossing and turning, trying to break free of his iron grasp, while he simply pressed on them with his own body, leveraging his strength and weight in a gory display of unbridled brutality. The deadly embrace crushed their heads like grapes, collapsed rib cages and forced the innards out in a fountain of red. The beasts were formidable opponents, that much Dirk had to admit, but against Jason they stood no chance. The old soldier couldnt help but feel relieved, having Jason by his side again. But not everyone shared his enthusiasm about being this close to a regenerator As the enemies got closer, they forced the mercs ranks to tighten, and with each meter closer to Argonaut, some of them visibly started faltering Match was inching away from them, oblivious to the danger it could possibly put him in. His discomfort was apparent, each nervous glance at Jason betraying the fear he so desperately wanted to push back. But he couldnt. The ferocity with which Argonaut fought. How did it differ from that of those beasts? - Match, return to formation, youre creating holes in our kill zone! - Dirk turned to him, now able to catch a breath thanks to Jason. - Then tell your dog to play fetch as far away from here as possible! - Match mouthed back, burning a monster that zipped past him. - I aint standing anywhere close to it! - Dear Lord, were you all btich-made or something? - Pollux growled, mashing another mutant to paste under-foot as its damaged limb swayed somewhat limply, contrasting the other undamaged arm. - He got it under control. - Are you blind, or just daft? Under what control? He couldnt rouse it for shit when it casually napped near the fire pit. - the usually aloof Match made a good point. - The moment that thing gets another inkling of free will, Im not gonna be anywhere near it. - Match, Im not asking, return to formation now! - Dirk yelled. In those moments, while they all argued, something caught Jasons attention. But not where they fought. No. Behind the raging snowstorm and the thick plumes of smoke, something flashed in the corner of his eye. He had a bad feeling about this. Acting on instinct, he instantly broke into a sprint towards the terrified Match, much to everyones horror. Everything slowed down, as no words could reach Jason, his blood pumping in his ears as his instincts screamed at him to act now. He only briefly glanced at the nozzle of Matchs flamethrower as the man pointed it towards him, but the young regenerator did not falter. His focus laid elsewhere. With a deafening, high-pitched sound, something flew towards the wavering pyrotechnician from up above, diving at breakneck speeds, but before it could reach him, a wall of muscle stood defiant against its sharp beak. The thing hit Jason like a truck. The force it carried sent him tumbling backwards, inches away from Match. - What the fuck?! - he startled, squeezing the handle of his flamethrower in a death-grip. - Eyes on the road! - yelled Garuda, barely managing to punch away another mutant ready to take the young mans life. Dirk felt a sudden pull in his gut. A desire to run to Jason, to check on him or at the very least call out to him, but he couldnt break character. Not now. Biting his lip, he focused on getting some heat off Garuda, who now had to not only protect herself but also the confused Match. In the meantime, Jason had his work cut out for him, wrestling with whatever struck him, surprised that it even lived through the monstrous impact. It looked like a bird, but most of its pitch-black feathers were covered by burned skin Though it looked roughly avian, as far as the young lad could tell, no bird on planet Earth that he knew of had rows of hooks on its beak and was the size of a large dog. With one hand, he tried to pry the beast away while repeatedly punching its gut with the other, but the harder they fought, the deeper the things beak dug into his flesh. Inching its way past muscle and bone, Jason could feel the thing start to feast on his regenerating lungs. - Its been a while since something got through our regeneration. What a hungry twat. - Fleece chimed in, its tone of unapologetic amusement. A fountain of blood erupted from his throat, splashing around his helmet as his lungs filled with the crimson liquid. He gritted his teeth, feeling his heart pump harder, drowning him in his own gore even faster. He rarely, if ever, feared death, but the stress of being killed so brutally and continuously had to leave a mark even on him, and his body reacted accordingly. Being eaten and waterboarded at the same time was a dreadful experience. If only he wasnt surrounded by other mercenaries, he could easily bulk up his muscles three, four times over and obliterate the attacker, but right now he was a normal regenerator. Showing his hand to their group would only cause problems for Dirk, so he powered through the pain, racking his brain for a solution. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. He roared on the top of his lungs, which boiled inside his opened chest. It almost pushed him over the edge, as for the first time in his life, his bodys natural drug-bomb of adrenaline and other chemicals concocted by the regeneration process failed to dampen the excruciating, all-present pain that seared his entire being from within and without alike. He thrashed, finally giving into panic. The bird screeched next to him, but unlike the giant, those were its death throes. - Lucky guy, aint that right, Jason-boy? Thats gonna leave a mark. - Jasons co-pilot mocked with a vicious note. But his brain barely registered anything Fleece was saying, as a tide of his own, primal thoughts filled his mind. He wanted the pain to end, but instead he burned, his regeneration only feeding the chemically-boosted flame. Dirk looked in abject terror towards his friend, then towards Match, his vision going red. There was no excuse. There were no words to exchange between them. He would kill the bastard. On impulse, stronger than anything hed felt in years, the old soldier raised Morozovs handgun towards Match, his back wide open down the iron sight. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe a flash of something he hid deep inside, a swirl of emotions he could never allow to bubble to the surface as doing so would cause the man known as Dirk to become something entirely different. But before he could pull the trigger, a giant metal arm covered the angle of his shot. He was tempted to simply roll under her arm and fill that bastard with lead, damn the consequence. - He simply followed the RoE you gave us old man. - Barbaras crackling voice sounded quite different to her normal tone, it was less than happy. I know what I said, I know it. But that fucker did it with premeditation. - Chernobog bit his lower lip until it bled. He wished to say it aloud, nay, yell it out so that Match would know what he did and could prepare for the reckoning that would follow. But that wasnt what his team required. Not what was required out of Chernobog the mercenary. The machines arm left his line of sight as it swatted another wild beast. A wake-up call, to remind him where they were. - Fuck. - the old soldier mouthed, while bottling down what tried to spill out. Common practice for him. Garuda said nothing, instead timely striking down another diving opponent. The mutated avian cracked mid-air and slammed to the snowy floor near them. It looked hideous, a melted mass of burned tissue and black feathers, somehow larger than even the dog-like beasts they were fighting so far. - Theyve got the skies. - Dirk screamed into the mic. - I repeat, the enemy is airborne. - Excuse me? - Spoon spoke on the radio. - The old man aint fucking about, I just burned one of those fuckers. - Match reassured the rest, as if Dirks words did not carry enough weight. - Were changing tactics. - Dirk continued. - Well have to spread thin. Ted, cover Spoon. Elephant, support Becker. Armistice, youre on Black. - I can cover myself. - the old grouch objected to any help. - Copy. - but the teams medic tarnished his wish with a swift reply. - Hey! What about me? - Match spoke again. Hearing his voice made bile rise up in Dirks throat. - Youve got Argonaut. Stay vigilant, over and out. - HeC The fire-starter wanted to say something, but Dirk refused to listen, emotions still somewhat clouding his judgement. Once more he glanced towards where Jason burned only to let out a sigh of relief as his friend, temporarily skinless, got off the snowy floor, successfully doused. Hed be fine in a blink. A small blessing in their current predicament. The old soldier quickly ducked and shot another two mutants running towards him, nailing one in the eye and another in the front paw it was about to step on. It crashed like a derailed train, then rolled towards him in an uncontrollable spin, brought to a stop only with a decisive stomp that broke its neck. The other one met its end not long after, as Dirk plunged the blade of his hatchet into the weak spot he discovered a while ago. What little information hed gleaned from the corpses proved invaluable, as the head of the axe cut through the animals skull like a knife through butter, finishing the wounded beast so swiftly it almost seemed merciful. But even in this battle craze, a peculiar stray thought gnawed at his psyche. Why were two distinct animal species hunting together as a group? Guessing would do him no good. What mattered was that a new variable just appeared. Whatever shot that green discharge must have something to do with it - his thought process continued unabated while he shot and hacked in a murderous flow. - Some kind of military group capable of controlling the fauna? No, that would make no sense. Those werent human eyes he saw in the green glow. They felt way too feral, too hollow. A brief chill ran down Dirks spine. No animal was capable of even conceiving this kind of coordinated attack. Probe. Distract. Eliminate the strongest and watch the pack crumble. They were lucky that Pollux was as sturdy as it was, or else they would be in a heap of trouble already. - Garuda! - Dirk roared on the comms as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on their ends, smitten with static energy. - Were due for another blast. Run a scan on thermals and find the green bastard before it shoots again! - Cant. My sensors are fuzzy at best after the last one. Is she fighting half-blind? - Dirk thought immediately, equally impressed and worried. - Then everyone else will have to keep their eyes peeled! If you see any green light, report immediately. Well have a time-window tighter than the needles eye to react. And we will have to react if we want this onslaught to end. - How do you know it will end if we catch the bastard? - Michael voiced his concerns, doubt apparent in his voice. - I dont. But we have to try something, unless you have the ammo to keep killing until the sun rises. - What about the truck? We should bunker up, at least. - Theyll topple us in no time, then open us up like a can of sardines. Stand your ground. - Great first fucking fight. Just my god-damned luck. - Ted threw in his two cents, shooting down a diving bird as it tried to take Spoons head off, who was at that moment fiddling with his launcher. - So we just have to find the big bastard, eh? - the grenadier scoffed. - Match! Throw me The Thing! - Im busy here! - the trigger-happy pyromaniac screamed back, building a wall of flame between himself and the dogs. But try as he might, the flames could only do so much damage in so little time, and the hounds started slipping into his safety zone, hellbent on getting rid of him, tongues of living flame dancing on their backs as they charged. Match hesitated for a moment, staggering back, and it was enough for the dogs to lunge. Two died mid-air, their brains splattered on the ground by Teds twitch reaction, but the third made contact, throwing the lad onto the ground under its monstrous momentum. Ivory teeth flashed in front of his eyes and reflexively he covered his throat with his left arm, avoiding death by the skin of his teeth, but suffering terrible damage as the uneven, razor-sharp fangs dug into his flesh. A pained groan escaped his mouth. Not even a full scream, as the fall knocked the wind out of him. - Match! - Ted yelled at the top of his lungs with uncanny desperation, his look that of sheer horror mixed with unspeakable rage. - Get this thing off me! - Match begged, feeling his flesh tug at the bone as the monster tried to rip him apart. Time slowed down for the poor sod, adrenaline stretching this moment into excruciating minutes as his mind searched for an out. Bone grinded against bone as the malicious jaws clasped his arm ever harder, his other hand flailing uselessly by his side in search for his dropped flamethrower, but in his panic he could not find it. He punched, but his fist bounced off the monsters head harmlessly. He did so again and again in a span of what felt like a second, only to hit an epiphany as his own blood splashed on his face. He reached for a small carving knife he always had on him, ready to strike the beast where it was weak. But his hand got shaky with fear, and fingers stiff from the cold. He dropped it once, but grabbed it again, jamming the whole length of the blade into the skull of his adversary. It entered flesh easily, but at an odd angle. He missed. He god-damn missed. There was no time for second tries, as the thing shook the mans hand out of the way and dove in for a finisher, its soulless eyes as cold as the snow below, its flesh singed and melted. Yet it was stronger than him. More determined. More feral and unwavering, driven by nothing but primal instinct to kill. But before it struck the killing blow, it suddenly stopped as the ground quaked. With a whine that was cut short like the last words of a man murdered mid-sentence, it got yanked back, its monstrous features stretching into a blur as its body whooshed through the air, only to slam into the ground, and then rise back again. It was Argonaut who jumped in to help, with his skin charred, melted to his clothes, and peeling off his body. He was holding Matchs would-be killer by its hind legs as he spun the animal above his head with enough strength to make the creature vomit blood from the sheer G-force exerted on its body. Like a flail, the regenerator swung the bag of flesh around, striking at the incoming hounds with relentless brutality, spilling guts and crushing bones with unspoken ease. After one of the swings, he spun his whole body along with his makeshift weapon, gaining great momentum, only to release his battered victim like a throwing hammer, striking another diving bird square in the chest in an explosion of red and black. Covering Match with his own body, he intercepted another attacker, putting it into a lethal chokehold that crushed its neck like a paper straw, gaining some space in return. Match was in shock, having survived the impossible, but instead of wincing in pain, all he could do was look at Argonaut with a conflicted look. He felt fear. Almost petrifying him. But somewhere deep inside, he could feel gratitude. And an inkling of regret. Their gazes met. Steam rose from the golden bovine helmet with each breath that the giant took, his whole body moving like an enormous bellow, and though Match felt his heart stop for a moment when the regenerators hand moved towards him, it was as if the whole world kicked into overdrive when he recognized the gesture. He was giving him a hand. It was like an instinct, borne of respect that the colossus had just earned itself, when Matchs hand twitched to grab it, but he stopped himself midway, struck with a pang of pain and fear. There was no time for hesitation. The next moment, he felt himself being yanked up into a standing position and pressed into Argonauts back with his massive hand as the regenerator turned around to face their foes, ready to protect the fellow soldier at all costs. It was a wake-up call for the dazed Match. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he reached for his canister, still hanging from his hip, and stuck something into a port at its bottom. In his hand, he gripped a small capsule covered in his own blood as it slowly filled with an iridescent liquid. When it reached capacity, Match called out, his voice scratchy from all the strain and fear. - Spoon! - he grabbed his mates attention, preparing for what looked like a throw, but midway, his body faltered under the unimaginable strain, locking up his muscles and almost making him drop the item. Argonaut, however, didnt let that come to pass. Whatever the object was, it seemed important. Important enough to make Match forget about his rub with death and fulfill his friends request. The regenerator grabbed the capsule as it slipped from his assigned partners hand, and chucked it to Spoon, who snatched it out of the air with a worried look, but got to work on it almost immediately. - Cover me for a hot minute! - he demanded, retreating closer to the truck, his launcher dangling from its sling as he rummaged in his ammo pouch with his freed hand. - You have thirty seconds, you bastard. Make them count! - Ted barked back, the rhythmic thrum of his gun reverberating in his voice. Spoon worked fast once he got what he was looking for. With the capsule from Match in one hand, and an odd-looking grenade in the other, he dismantled the latter, spilling some gray powder from within onto the snow, making room for whatever the capsule contained. With a click, the iridescent liquid mixed with the powder still left in the casing, creating a black, tar-like substance. The man then reached for a pouch on his arm and pulled out three tiny jars, the contents of which he added with practiced movements, only to speedily close the casing back up. With a violent shake, he loaded the new grenade into his launcher, and with a click of the tongue that said This better work, pointed its barrel into the sky. - This will give us one minute. Find the fucking head-honcho! - he announced as the payload left the tube with a thump, disappearing into the darkness. The night swelled with anticipation as one second passed, then another, and another. On the fourth, the skies cracked open. With a crack, a boom and a blinding flash of light, whatever concoction Spoon shot into the air exploded like a firework, fragmenting into dozens of pieces. Each shone with intense red light, bright enough to blind direct onlookers as they lingered in the air. Together, they bathed the whole area in what could only be described as crimson daylight. Suddenly, the visibility increased a hundredfold, and Dirk could truly take in the scale of the threat that surrounded them. He expected dozens of hounds to prowl in the darkness, but nothing could have prepared him for what he witnessed. Ranks upon ranks of the monsters lied in wait for their turn to strike, huddled in groups of at least a dozen each. There had to be no less than a hundred of the beasts just staring at them with murderous intent and their teeth bared. Up above, the situation was no better. A swirling tornado of mutated ravens circled overhead like vultures ready to pick them apart like corpses. A vortex of death on the verge of descending. Volume 2 Chapter 8 - Desperate Struggle The outcome of the snappy collaboration between all Three Stooges opened a door of opportunity they all have been waiting for. With the visibility improved by a large margin and the extent of enemy forces visible to them, Dirk finally had some concrete numbers to work with. Even if those numbers didnt really fill anyone with optimism. The degree to which they were outnumbered was ludicrous and by all possible metrics spelled a disaster. Under normal circumstances, being outnumbered 3 to 1 was already considered a disaster in open field battles, but with a single glance, the old man could easily say their disadvantage went far above that. Dirk didnt have to think hard to judge the morale of his troops. It went down to the gutter. - Holy shit. - Garuda whispered, the microphone in her suit barely catching the words. It seemed that her battle-craze wasnt able to fully dull her survival instincts, so using her for a suicidal charge was out of the question. Trying to use their combined firepower to attempt neutralizing the area in which the enemy leader could potentially reside would also be an impossible task, they didnt have enough ammo for that. At this moment, the old soldier regretted not having that sniper Prusk told him about by his side. 52 seconds left now, according to Spoons calculations. In those stretched-out seconds, the roar of gunfire did not cease. On the contrary, the overwhelming odds seemed to have fueled the desperation of all mercs as they started fighting with almost reckless abandon. Ted started hosing down the skies, insults flowing down his lips like a river. Spoon began firing from his hand-held grenade launcher between reloads, sacrificing accuracy for firepower. Match seemed to have grown numb to his own pain out of sheer terror and instead of clinging to Argonaut, grabbed his weapon and with a trembling grip spewed one torrent of flame after another. Michael and Elephant began covering their own openings much more efficiently than before. The latter doing her damn best to copy the movements of the other. Even if they looked sloppy in execution, they were efficient enough. Armistice and Black didnt change that much, they seemed to have been the least affected by the reality of their situation. All their desperation, the fear and anger were audible to Chernobog who dispatched with minimal difficulty the beasts that slipped through Garudas steel finger. He didnt feel that tired at this point. He didnt feel much at all for that matter. Which only meant that he was about to reach his own breaking point. His exhausted body, brought to the point of breaking down, was barely keeping up with his overburdened, sleep-deprived brain. He was holding together with sheer discipline, even if it didnt show on his face. Overdoing it would bite him back ruthlessly tomorrow, but it didnt matter now. He had to see this through, now or never. He swallowed bitterly, ashamed that it was his own body that put yet another time limit around his neck in what was already a terrible situation. 47 seconds - he thought with clarity afforded to those who could no longer be inconvenienced by mere exhaustion. This entire encounter unfolded terribly for them from the very start. Even with preparations, they didnt have enough manpower or tools to secure a defensible position in the open field against such a force. Odds were stacked against them, and the hand given to him was shit from the start. But he could have still done more. Positioned them better, utilized their firing zones with more efficiency. Tell them to only fire when their partner was reloading, to never have a gap in their suppression. For the future encounters, hed have to force this bunch to not only carry their fancy little gadgets, but those machine pistols assigned to them by Ouroboros quartermaster. That would certainlyC - Garuda, leap upwards! - Dirk yelled into the mic. - Spot the commanding creature, look for a swirl in their formation. If they werent focused on survival, someone like Ted or Match would certainly call him out for giving out such an order when the sky was compromised. But that silence was a small consolation in their current predicament Barbara didnt even respond, her jets simply raised a screen of milky snow all around her as the machine took to the skies. In that instance, it was like a dam burst open, one that held the mutated beasts away from Dirks own position. One, two, five different mutants leaped through the smoke screen, knowing perfectly where he stood, only hammering home the fact that enemy forces saw Pollux as the biggest threat and priority target. The first monster barreled through the snow, snapping its jaw. Dirk sidestepped it to the right, straight into the claws of the second beast, but those were much easier to deal with. He stepped right into the beast''s range, shifting right between its paws to close the distance as the claws missed him by a hairs breadth. A quick knee to the beasts scarred nose caused it to yelp and stagger backwards, just enough for the soldier to perform a full underswing with the axe, jamming it underneath the monsters crooked jaw. He pulled the body towards himself as it went limp, using it as cover from the jaws of the first attacker. It bit into its dead pack members skull, making double sure of its demise. But the carcass would serve him still. As the other monsters teeth tore at the flesh of its comrade, Dirk placed the barrel of his gun next to its crushed head, exactly where the weak spot was located, and fired twice. The first bullet went through the skull, straight into the open jaw of the other beast. The second following its trail as an insurance. Two dead mutants. 40 seconds left. Suddenly, the third mutant died, as something fell on top of it from the skies - a perforated avian corpse. Plan unfolded accordingly. The fire support from agitated Ted limited the amount of damage sustained by Pollux, allowing Barbara to focus on spotting the target. The fourth mutant stopped in its tracks, confused by the falling corpse. Such a mistake came at a hefty cost, as Dirk fired another two bullets straight between its eyes, laying it dead. Its body slumped to the snow in sync with an empty Makarov magazine. - South-east, 132! - the voice he was waiting for crackled on their communication line. - 390 meters! With these words, the giant hunk of steel fell to the ground with a deafening ruckus, crushing the fifth mutant. The machines chassis had a few more grazes and scratches than a moment ago, but nothing major. Barbara served her purpose, and now it was time for the unwilling second actor to take the stage. - Spoon! You heard that? Fire for effect! - Dirk yelled into the mic. Considering the current state of the team, what he did was a risk. In this chaos, Dirk only felt confident in Jason, Barbara and Black to carry out his orders, but each of them lacked either the means or the freedom of movement to eliminate their target.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Dirk wanted to believe that his hunch about Spoons competence was right. That, against all odds, the young man would heed his call and turn this hopeless situation around. And fortunately, it seemed that Dirk was a better judge of character than some gave him credit for. - Firing! - the man''s voice sounded exhausted but focused. - Its gonna be a close shave! He certainly was the most reliable of their trio, evident as his grenades began to fly on an arc towards the designated position. The speed with which he aligned towards the coordinates was commendable to say the least. Now that Garuda landed, her presence caused the beasts to relent around their area, so Dirk used that moment to check the effectiveness of their bombardment with his own two eyes. - What are youC She didnt even get to fully finish her sentence as the old soldier swiftly scaled her machine. He already outlined all the bits that would work as decent footholds during their quick exchange on the topic of Polluxs weaknesses. Even when it swung about, swatting the occasional mutant, the protruding bits and pieces were large enough for Dirk to grip tightly and hold on. He hung near the top, not wanting to stick out the machine''s silhouette for safety''s sake, but the boost of elevation was good enough for him to watch the fireworks. Multiple explosions started pelting one specific spot in the snow, throwing scraps of flesh around like confetti, accompanied by the howls and croaks of the dying beasts. That reaction would have been satisfactory if their aim was to simply thin their numbers, but there were bigger stakes at play here. The leader. They were running out of time, and there were only 27 seconds of illumination left, but the green light was nowhere to be seen. Not among corpses nor within the smoke. Could Barbara have been wrong? Did she give them the wrong coordinates? Or did she misidentify the target? - Fire for effect! - Dirk repeated into the microphone. - Are you trying to fucking kill him, old fart? - Ted interrupted him. - How is he supposed to defend himself when hes firing into the night? - Thats your job Ted, deal with it! - the old soldier had no time to spare for the young shit-head. - Spoon? - Firing! The seconds were slipping by yet the monsters did not relent. A high-pitched scream erupted behind Dirk, but he could not spare a single moment to look. It was probably Elephant. He knew Michael could protect her, but the question was for how long? Suddenly a giant feathered missile ripped through the air and slammed into Pollux mere centimeters away from where the old soldier hanged. The force toppled the machine, forcing him to disembark. He rolled across the snow, dull pangs of pain spreading across his body. He felt the burn in his muscles as he slowly began regaining the feeling in his body - both a blessing and a curse. He was on his last legs. As Pollux laid on the ground, throwing off beasts that began to swarm it, Chernobog looked up, just in time to register a feathery creature pecking for his eyes. He swung his torso backwards, gaining just enough leeway to call out the only man whose actions caused this mishap. - Ted! Wheres the aerial coverage? - Got my hands full here youC He didnt finish, as another cannonade of his own light machine gun fire interrupted his words. Dirk wasnt faring any better, as the mutated bird was much harder to handle in close quarters than the dogs. Its beak, like a spear, was thrusting swiftly but cautiously, retaining enough distance between them to make the soldier''s axe inefficient, while outpacing the veterans gun aiming skills. Chernobog could attempt firing blindly towards its head, but looking at how sturdy those birds were, hed be simply wasting ammunition and there was no time to reload in this exchange. The former soldier kept weaving and dodging, but with each evasive maneuver he had to take a step back as the beast pressed forward, each movement shifting him more and more away from Garuda, slowly causing him to slip into a less and less advantageous position. So he gambled, again, for the second time in the last minute, but there was nothing else he could do, they were almost out of time, only 14 seconds remained and SpoonC - Spoon! Fire for effect! - Fuck! Okay, firing! - the desperation was palpable in his voice, accentuated by the thudding sounds of launched explosives. - Im dry! My primarys dry! - Advancing to support. - Armistice exclaimed dryly. As the explosives flew, Dirk stood with his side towards the pecking beast in anticipation for its next move. As its beak plunged towards him to strike his kidney, the old soldier spun around, rolling alongside it towards the monsters head. In the perfect scenario, his jacket would get torn at most as he got close and chopped off the monster''s head. But he miscalculated. He got closer than planned, and the beak not only tore his clothes, but also gouged the left coxal area of his torso. The pain hit him like a truck. All that backed up stress, dull pangs, sweat that never came, seemed to suddenly burst out with this blow, letting them flow freely. He wanted to genuinely scream from the discomfort filling him in that single instance, as the pain washed over every last inch of his body. As if he went through hundreds of full-body workouts in a fraction of a second. As he rolled beside the beak, his blood smeared all over it, and the old man couldnt help but audibly gack from the pain. But despite it all, he was resolved to finish what he set out to do. His gaze shifted, and he saw the beasts black, beady eyes staring back at him, his own face drenched with cold sweat reflecting back at him in their bottomless darkness. But it mattered not. This was the finishing blow. Not only to the monster, but this whole encounter. As the hatchet descended, it chopped deeply into the mutants neck, bringing it down to the snowy floor. Dirk went with it, using the whole weight of his body to drive the hatchet home, severing the birds thick neck at the base. The last series of explosions filled his ears and with it A roar. A guttural, primal roar. Unlike all the others up till now, it carried through the wind, piercing the very land that surrounded them. Chernobog, panting from pain and exhaustion, lifted his head from the snow to get the understanding of the situation, bracing for any follow-up attack. Dodging would be a tall order in his current state, but he certainly would try. But to his surprise, every other mutated beast froze in place, understanding the message that the sound of the roar carried. A message that caused some to shudder. Much like the beasts, no mercenary dared to move, awestruck by the sudden stalemate as the shriek echoed in their heads. That was when the darkness descended upon them again, as the jury-rigged flare ran out of chemical compounds to burn. As darkness engulfed them again, in that very same moment the beasts began to withdraw in haste, following the roars command. The following stampede was deafening. Its sound a herald of certain doom to those unlucky enough to be caught in its throes. Fearsome enough to squeeze one last bit of adrenaline out of Dirk to let him stand up and hobble towards the toppled Pollux to avoid becoming a red smear on the snow. - You fucking cunts! - Teds voice somehow peaked over the ruckus. - You fucking cunts! Get some! He screamed and fired towards the fleeing monsters, but none of them were really interested in retaliating, much more worried about following their orders, at the same time breaking any illusion that they were simple animals. A paradox, perhaps, for the fact that they communicated with roars. An aberration that solidified their beastly nature. The thoughts bounced around in the old soldiers head with no clear answer in sight, but one thing was certain. Their assault was over. He survived. They survived. Volume 2 Chapter 9 - Over The Hedge Hundreds of steps made their way up the stairs of the metro underground. In a mad dash to reach their own destinations even one step ahead of others, even if in the grand scheme of things such a headstart would give them no real time advantage. But through that sea of people a particular figure stood out like a sore thumb. Somewhat tall, broad man in a greyish coat. The clothing itself wasnt that jarring, but the man underneath it garnered attention. His thick grey beard looked like wool, covering the bottom half of his pitch-black face. Even if his eyes seemed somewhat calm, he intimidated people with mere presence, making them a bit less willing to thrash and push in his general vicinity. He paid them no heed, his mind was drifting. It has been long. Way too long since he last felt the breeze that lacked the taste of salt. Thirty five days, twelve hours, eleven minutes and fifty seconds to be precise, with a two minutes margin of error. The tour that just ended wasnt a specifically long one. The man himself would say it was average. But each time he came back, he couldnt help but notice the world change around him ever so slightly. It certainly could be attributed to feeling home sick, but having images this vivid of the world waiting for him on the dry land gave him perspective. New city infrastructure. New barriers on street crossings, changed brands of the street lights. Neon lights advertising welfare products that didnt exist before his leave. New patriotic sayings and quotes printed on banners, attributed to people he never heard of, from conflicts he didnt partake in. A few days ago he wouldnt really make much of it, a nice reminder of what he was sailing for. But after the charity banquet, all those views started feeling bitter, gripping something in his gut. He was a patriot. A proud citizen of the Empire, a model one at that, according to his Captain. One who earned his titles and benefits through hard work and the sweat of his brow, entitled to every last drop that came down the grapevine. So why did he feel so wronged? Not by the people, or the ideologies that he relied on. For both these things, hed lay down his life without a second thought. The like-minded men and women that he served beside for years were like extended family for him at this point, while the acts on which the Empire was built were second for him only to the Almighty. Alas, were it truly so, would the words he heard from Heavenly General Cicada affect him this deeply? Seeding the doubt in his heart. The man cussed under breath, spooking a stranger that stood next to him at the crossing. He didnt notice him, focused on his internal debate instead of the world around him. Despite that, when the light turned golden, he began to walk just like everyone else. Walking by, he could easily peek above the crowds at the shops that surrounded him. In just over a month, two old confectionaries closed down and government-ran replacements took their place. Too bad, from what his wife told him, their daughter enjoyed their sweets. They had that genuine taste you dont really get from store-bought substitutes. There are simply things in life that advanced machinery cant replicate. Such a thing wasnt uncommon in the Empire, after all, the higher-ups were really adamant about managing every bit of space within the capital. It served to display the proactiveness of the Wellness Control Bureau and their commitment towards the well-being of citizens in every aspect of both public and private life. But the detractors said that it was nothing but a show of soft power. An attempt to monopolize every product and little thing the citizens could have access to. Detractors like General Cicada. Detractors like himself. Or rather, a would-be detractor. That night at the banquet hall, when he substituted Heavenly General Murena during a charity ball, still haunts him. The topics he touched upon with Heavenly General Cicada, the unveiling of their little clique. Up until that day he would have never thought that conspirators could have been lying in wait so far up the chain of command. It was treason of the highest order. Or would be, were he to follow through with aiding them. After all, there was still wiggle room left for him. He wasnt in too deep, he simply listened and read so far. If Cicada was to be believed, the nanites injected into his bloodstream could still cause enough of a shock to his hippocampus to erase his memory of the last week. The sailor himself wasnt smart enough to understand the ins and outs of the procedure, but the brass tack was the seven-day deadline. After 168 hours, there would be no venue of escape for him. Hed be branded a collaborator if the knowledge of him taking part ever came out. His life, no, the life of his whole family, would be over. There were still 72 hours left for him to make up his mind. To judge the people he thought of as his comrades for the longest time. Father who art in heaven, give me strength to endure the serpents poison - the man thought, slowly steering right through the deluge of people. - Send me angel Metatron, allow his knowledge to wash over my eyes so that no falsehood can hide from me. He looked up at the glowing neon sign overhead. Nicos Bowling He arrived at the designated spot. Where he would again meet with the very people who had seen faults with the current world order. As conspicuous as this place was, there was no better way to arrange meetings like that but in a public place. - Amen. - he murmured, stroked his lush beard, and stepped forward, prompting the door to slide open. That''s when the first peculiarity hit him. There was no one inside the building. For an arcade-like place, it wasnt right, not during the middle of the weekend. The second came from the fact that the building didnt have any plaque announcing a break in the opening hours, nor any type of malfunction with the equipment. Which could only mean one thing. - There he is! - an easily recognizable female voice caught his attention. A few dozen meters away from the entrance, in a section filled with tables and chairs, a mid-point between the entrance/locker room and the bowling area, sat a woman wearing very feminine casual clothing. Her hair was long and artificially blue, entirely swept to the side, and her pitch-black scleras were twinkling like that of a child. The strange woman kept waving towards him with one arm, despite them already locking eyes. As immature and off-kilter as that behavior of hers was, that certainly was Veronica Blaz he remembered. Despite everything, some things remain constant - he chuckled and shook his head from side to side. - Took you long enough! Thought Id die of boredom. - she declared, getting off the chair, tightly screwed to the lacquered floor. - That would certainly be an occurrence for the ages. - the man smiled, even if his lush beard obscured most of the notion. - An improbability of such magnitude would shake the world at its core. - But it would certainly be a nice gut punch to the good ol Dokie. - Ha, still calling him that, are you? No respect for the dead? - More things change, the more they stay the same. With that morbid joke out of the way, the duo embraced each other, or more like the large man enveloped the woman in his trench coat. - Silvers ye salty dog, trying to suffocate me from the get-go? - the muffled voice of Veronica tried to parody a stereotypical pirate. - Now dont get too excited you landlubber, I am greatly weakened this far from the sea. - Silver Winslow released the woman from his vice grip. - But if you were to join me on my next tour aboard the Leviathan, things might be different. - Yeah, hard pass on that. my dear seaman. - the way she enunciated the last word made it clear to both of them what she was actually trying to say. - I get seasick very easily. - You may think youre sly.. - the dark skinned vice admiral exhaled heavily. - But your eyes are betraying you. - Whatever you say. - she waved him away while heading back towards the table. - Sailors and their spiritual mumbo-jumbo. Anyway, want a drink? Soft, hard, thick, thin? - Is there even a barman still in the building? On that topic, did you buy a whole bowling alley just for our friendly catch-up? - the man kept looking around, but despite all lights and bowling machinery being powered, he couldnt see a single soul beside them. - Silly, I didnt do it just for us, I brought a date with me after all. - the secretary of Heavenly General Hyena turned towards the sailor with a pair of large bowling shoes in her hands. - But I bet you already know the guy. Hes pretty famous in our circles. - with that she nudged her chin in a direction behind her comrade. - Diesel meet Vice Admiral Silvers Winslow. With these words of introduction, a cold sweat ran down the seafarer''s neck, even if his stalwart posture did not change. He turned around and started nervously inspecting the whole room. Thats when he finally noticed him. The hulk of a man. Bodybuilder extraordinaire, shaped like a statue of old, casually looking over the selection of bottles in the open bar. His open linen shirt fluttered freely, showing off his impressive build in an almost provocative manner. Veronica wasnt wrong. There wasnt a single man in the Empires military that wouldnt know about the exhibitionist weirdo that walked around Heavenly General Hyena during his public appearances. - Vice Admiral Silvers Winslow, meet Sergeant Second Class Diesel. - Veronica continued unabated. - Hes gonna be making drinks for us this time around. I personally vouch for their quality. Theyre pretty alright, just dont hit him with any Ramon Gin Fizz or Commonwealth Drink. He aint on that level yet. - Its Ramos, not Ramon. - Silvers corrected her while receiving the bowling shoes. - I think our acquaintanceship was limited to mostly rumors and distant sightings. - the man subconsciously expanded his vocabulary, not being aware of this nervous tick of his. To the uninitiated the presence of Diesel might have not meant much. Just a work colleague bringing another unannounced work colleague to the meet-up. Things like that happened, no skin off anyone''s back. But that was not how connections in hierarchy focused environments worked. Diesel was Hyenas right hand man, his attack dog. He only answered to the General himself, being his eyes and ears within the rank-and-file environment. Bringing him here was dangerous in the best situation and catastrophic in worst. Not to mention that on top of it all a certain recent occurrence made this powder keg even more volatile. His not-so-willing indoctrination into the Wine Cellar. The sailor looked at Veronica, searching for an answer. But she simply looked at him with an expression of obliviousness that felt smug beyond words. She knew perfectly well what she did. This whole setup was a volatile concoction, so perfectly measured and stirred by someone who knew risks way too well and relished in their presence. He expected nothing less of her. So all he could do was scoff. - Im more of a straight-drinker myself either way. - he grabbed the bowling shoes extended towards him. There was no turning back now. - Anyway, let us address the elephant in the room. - We just did. - Veronica smiled. - I am talking about the venue, girl. Why did you empty the whole bowling alley for our meeting? That must have cost a fortune. - It most certainly did. But it didnt cost me a penny. - What are- The sailor stopped, realizing the meaning of her sly smile and the words accompanying it a second late. - You paid for this outing with taxpayers money? - he couldnt believe the words that escaped his mouth. - That''s embezzlement, girl. They could lock you up for this. - he added in a half-whisper while leaning in towards her. - I have no idea what you are talking about, Mister head engineer. - the woman passed him by. - Were simply here to check the building in which a private arcade named Nicos Bowling is situated, as customers reported dangerous cracks across the elevation. Those in turn roused suspicion of WCB concerning the status of the building. So it had to be temporarily shut down and inspected by your crew. The degree to which the young looking woman before him was manipulating the system frightened the salty dog. He had spent many more years within this power structure, yet compared to her, Silvers simply followed the current, while Veronica Blaz built dam after dam to reach the inflows that suited her fancy. - Well, Ill be damned, what happened to the little beastie that referred to itself as Subject 4? The woman in question simply walked towards the bar, where Diesel must have heard her approach and turned around. - She went and got dusted somewhere around City-1. - she exclaimed nonchalantly while reaching the destination. She ran her finger across the bar-top while slowly walking towards their temporary bartender, who was attentively following her every step in absolute silence. - From her ashes arose a nasty bitch that is currently milking the cozy position given to her for all it is worth. - despite talking to Silvers, her eyes were fixated on the idle special forces soldier. - Riding this high until the pearly gates. Metaphorically of course. - Slay, queen. - said the black man with a smile. The room fell silent for a time that lasted longer than it comfortably should have. - Excuse me? - she was shaken by the mans words. They were so out of place. So uncanny to hear from a man of his stature and background that she looked at him as if he shared with her the secret of the universe. Being very much aware of that, the man began to belly laugh. - Oh, how I wish you could see your own face, girl. - he chuckled. - I heard my daughter use these words when talking with her friends, I presumed it would fit right in within this whole empowering spiel of yours. - You sly motherfucker, you. - Veronica propped her lower back against the bartop, leaning against it, defeated. - You got me good there. - Should I add that I have no clue what it actually means? - Dont rub it in. Diesel, honey? Could you hit me up with a New York Sour? - she looked towards Silvers, questioning. - Double aged rum, straight. - Leaning into the stereotype much? - despite Veronicas comment, Diesel got to work. - Nothing wrong with stereotypes if something just tastes good. Being contrarian for the sake of it doesnt amount to shit. - the sailor said just as he finished putting on the bowling shoes. - I feel personally called out by that statement. Both of them laughed, as the ebony giant made his way to the bar. - Do we plan to actually bowl some, or did you hand me those sneakers for the heck of it? - the man couldnt help but follow the movements of the soldier behind the bar. They were quick and precise. Almost unnaturally well measured. Despite his massive frame, Diesel didnt brush against a single object while moving about. Grabbing the glass, taking the shaker, putting the bottle back onto the rack. Nothing Diesel did looked very fancy, but none of it seemed sloppy. Just enough strength to twist the cap, just enough of a swing to move the bottle precisely where it stood before he grabbed it. As if the man himself remembered precisely where everything stood before he began moving it about, to the last minute detail. - Thats some spatial awareness. - he couldnt help but voice his amazement aloud, inadvertently switching topics before getting the answer from Veronica. - Yeah, I always like to watch him work. Tickles the same part of my brain as seeing a master painter doing their thing. - Is that your special talent or something? - he asked the man in question. Diesel didnt seem to hear him, or chose to ignore the sailor. The latter turned towards his old friend, somewhat puzzled. She waved dismissively. - He doesnt like to waste his breath. - the secretary said, talking about the man in question openly. - Very much a no-nonsense fella. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.- I see. Is he The sailor gesticulated near his own temple. - Not as far as I can tell. Knew him since Hyena took me under his wing, so for quite a while now. Doesnt seem to be anything wrong under the hood, but the Heavenly General holds his documents, so until I get access to them cant say anything for certain. - I see. - talking behind someones back so openly felt very weird to the sailor, but there was nothing to be done about it. - But I bet he appreciates the compliment, that much I can tell you. The older man sure hoped so, as it didnt take much imagination to figure out that being on the bad side of someone like Diesel didnt bode well. Just as that line of thoughts of his concluded, two glasses appeared before them. Just like they ordered, one glass of rum for him, one glass of New York Sour for Veronica. There was nothing really special about those glasses, but they were spotless and that was all that really mattered. - Thank you. - Veronica said, pulling her drink towards herself. - Cheers. - the sailor raised his glass towards the fellow member of the Empire''s forces in turn. With their drinks in hand, they returned to the original topic that got pushed to the wayside. - Bowling? - Silver asked, while sipping. - Mayhaps. - the lady secretary sipped in kind. - Making me drunk wont improve your odds of winning. - Aww, thats disheartening to hear. Good thing then that I asked Diesel ahead of time to spice up your drink with pure ethanol. - Sure you did. - You think Id be above such a trick? - No, I watched the whole process, you cheeky tart. He wouldnt have minded the rest of their meeting continuing in this cordial, jovial manner. Just two friends meeting up face to face after a long while. Unfortunately, that was not why he came here, and the young lass knew it. So all their jokes and acts of folly only delayed the moment in which the ball would drop. It was necessary to intertwine work with pleasure due to the positions which they both held. The one thing about holding a dull rank of a simple grunt he genuinely missed were all the days he could idly chat away with Miln, without a worry in the world. It sometimes felt dull, repetitive and menial, but that peace of mind would have really served him well these days. Especially while working under General Morena. - Oi, you good? - Veronicas voice pulled him back to the waking world. - You looked as if you were dozing off. - Because I was, my bad. - Silver sipped the stiff drink to jolt himself awake. - Dont sweat it. Ive got something that will straighten you up, more than a 40-proof juice. - Yeah? Whats that? She put both of her arms into the air and looked him straight in the eyes. Without turning away for even a moment she sat on a nearby bar stool and slowly reached behind her. Veronicas body began arching inch by inch, to a position that would make most people lose their balance. The older man had no idea what all these theatrics were for, but they certainly grabbed his attention. Then, something shuffled near the ground. With suspense hanging in the air she swung back like a loose spring, causing her drinking buddy to shudder. Once she stabilised her sitting posture, Veronica brushed her fringe backwards and raised a large plastic briefcase into his line of sight. - WhC Where did you hide that? - Secretary magic. - lady grinned while opening the mysterious item on the bartop. The sailor sat on the nearest stool next to her. He noticed that the barkeep was no longer standing in his place of work. He looked around and found him pretty quickly this time. Diesel moved to the area closer to the main entrance, standing there like a guard dog, with a strange water bottle in his hand. Did he move to guard the entrance? Or did he try to avoid eavesdropping on their conversation? Maybe he didnt have a high enough clearance to hear what Veronica was about to unveil before him. Having a closer look at the mans full body, he couldnt help but notice that despite the casual nature of their meeting, the Sergeant had two large holsters fastened to his thighs. They were both way too large for handguns. Large semi-straight handles were sticking out of both cases. Their shapes alone gave away their nature as butts of smaller size ordinance. Having two rifles that small defeated their purpose as effective range and spread would simply make them obsolete on any range when compared to simple handguns. There was only one projectile weapon type utilized by the Empire''s military left that would fit the bill. Is he carrying two shotguns with himself? - Silvers thought before turning away and focusing on an opened briefcase before him. What he saw before him seemed to have supported his previously raised clearance theory. Many of the sentences and words were redacted within the papers brought by Veronica, which told him well enough that those werent the secret documents that the Wine Cellar wanted to use to open his eyes. Just a sit-rep of what was happening in their country beneath a few dozen different layers of misinformation and information control. The yolk to which only those within the power structure had access to. - A briefing? Thats whats supposed to wake me up? - he asked, somewhat disappointed. - Did it work? - Unfortunately so. - So let us get to it, shall we? - Veronica clasped her hands together. That loud clap signaling the end of their friendly banter. - What was the last divulged information brief you saw dated at? - 12th, I think. - 12th of two months ago? - with that, she began sifting through documents. - A month ago. - he corrected her. - Just, dont give me any info below priority 2, okay? I wont be able to do anything with it. - Morena? - she raised her eyebrow. - Morena. He didnt need to say more. That simple word carried enough emotional baggage to fill any holes that one could ever find in Winslows approach. - Okay, so the first thing you need to know is that the oil-rig contract between The Empire and Kintsugi Union has been signed by both sides. - her tone suddenly shifted into a more professional one. - The working name is Sonne-Kreuz, it''s gonna be standing around the north-west side of the Indian Ocean. - Did we get any building time estimate? - One and a half years, but the two years version is being peddled to the public just in case. The sailor shook his head knowingly. - The Kintsugi Union also requested that after the construction is complete, Leviathan should patrol the area for at least the first six months. - Hah, thats sly of them. They didnt really care about any joint-effort cautionary measure, Silvers was sure of that. The Kins simply wanted to displace Leviathan from its current stomping ground in the Atlantic Ocean. Thats daring of them - the sailor stroked his thick, lucious, grey beard. - While not even trying to hide their talks with the Anglosphere. - Moving on. - it would appear that despite her usual demeanor, Veronica wasnt too keen on bantering about that issue. She probably wants to get this over with. Can relate. - Silvers took a sip and simultaneously frowned, looking at the next paper. The logo of Ouroboros corporation was printed on it, but not a single line of text was readable. Paragraph after paragraph, all of them were redacted, forming nothing but giant blots of printer ink upon the pages. Silvers didn''t really know what she meant by showing him that, but then she took a ballpoint pen and began clicking it repeatedly. The sailor frowned in response. Nevertheless, that was quite like her. - There were some larger than usual movements of Ouroboros corporation merchandise across multiple cities. Those included She began to enumerate pointless information that actively went against what the salty dog requested of her before she began the sitrep. He wanted to interrupt her, but that was when he noticed something. That annoying clicking It had a rhythm. Click, hold, click, click. Click, click. Dot, dot, dot. Dash. Dot. Dash, dot. She truly knew how to surprise a man. Guess old General Cicada didnt pick her out of pure happenstance. Not to mention that she couldnt have picked more of a perfect way to communicate with him without using words. This type of code was the lingua franca of the sea. Silvers wouldn''t even need a piece of paper to write it all down as they began to speak in his native tongue. In response, Silvers started tapping the bar top with his index finger ever so audibly, letting Veronica know he caught up. Thanks to her constant talking, there was no way Diesel would be able to hear their wordless exchange. Their facades continued blabbering about non-issues of the state, while underneath they focused on more pressing and imminent matters. There were many things for them to discuss, and she didnt hold anything back. The actual situation of the Imperial treasury and all the different cities - their squalor and the lies they were fed. Everything was somewhat vague, but it gave him a broad understanding of the place where they all stood, as citizens of the Empire. He would need more time to collate a definitive standing of his own, in light of it all. Still, one thing he could say with certainty is that if everything she said to him was true, this wasnt a country he wanted his child to grow up in. Once that was out of the way, she moved onto the real rundown of last month. But she honored his request this time around, concerning the quality of the information. Silvers was somewhat surprised that the situation of the rig wasnt a lie. Empire really got into a non-forced cooperation agreement with Kintsugi Union, which looking at how sheer fear of open warfare with the Imperial Army and the defense network held up by The Spires was what kept other powers in check for years, the sudden tune change towards any type of alliance felt bizarre to put it mildly. Cicada was still investigating what actually led to this initiative from the side of Kintsugi Union, but at the moment his sources were inconclusive. With that, they moved on to more important topics, according to Veronica at least. Which in itself made the seaman somewhat nervous. He couldnt really imagine something more important than an international incident in the making. Yet again, to squeeze as much suspense as she possibly could, she raised her empty glass up and turned to where Diesel stood. - Oh, Mr. Barkeep, another round please! - she yelled towards him. The soldier turned around and returned towards the bar without a single word of complaint. Silvers considered his behavior strange to say the least. This man didnt talk, followed orders without questions and executed them with inhuman precision. Just looking at his face allowed him to say that without a doubt this man was pretty young. Early 30s at best, maybe late twenties. His coordination, build and position were all unnatural for that age. Either the man was a savant among savants or But he didnt have enough knowledge on the man to assume such things with certainty. - You can refill me, too, while youre at it. - the sailor pushed the glass towards the barkeep, who was already working on Veronicas drink. - So as you can see, not much is really happening this month. - the woman began a little smalltalk as their conspiratory talk had to wait. - I noticed. By the way, why are you even hanging out on weekends with Heavenly General Hyenas right-hand man? - to satiate his curiosity, Silvers opted to squeeze as much information about the strange soldier as he could. - Cuz its a day off. - No, I mean, isnt he supposed to be by the side of the General himself, not yours? - Oh, no, not really. Ajax can handle himself just fine. - the sudden shift to the Generals first name made the sailors face twitch. - Dont look at me like that, its not like he can hear us. Diesel left his helmet in the car after all. - Wait a minute, youre telling me he has a remote connection to that gaudy helmet of his? - Whoops! - the secretary put both her hands over her mouth, quite theatrically. - Cant tell ya, its classified. The sailor couldnt help but look at her like a disappointed father. In normal circumstances, spilling information like that could lead to someone being court-martialed. Which begged the question how the man would react. Diesel simply chose to push their respective glasses towards them and then turned to leave the bar. The power dynamic between these two and their superior made no sense to him. On the other hand, what did he expect? It was somewhat par for the course with Hyena and his impact on the Empire at large. He followed the silent soldier as he returned to his post before turning towards his friend again. - Before we start. - he stopped her with a measured whisper. - Lemme ask you something important, girlie. - Oh? Shoot. - her expression didnt hide her surprise. - What is your relationship with that man? Maybe asking such a direct question wasnt the best thing to do. But he couldnt help himself. After all, he had quite a history with Veronica, as brief as it might have been. He simply worried about her well being. - Were very good friends. - she answered without delay, albeit quite vaguely. - Like work buddies, or - Nah, in general. I pick him up before work, we spend the breaks together, I sometimes stay over at his flat after work. - Wait - Yes, dad. She looked him straight in the eye. - We watch TV shows reruns together. - with a chuckle, she waved him away. - Now can I please go back to talking to you about work? If you want to hear about my bedroom adventures, we can do it after were done with important things, m-kay? - Id rather not. - That will entirely depend on you. - her mouth stretched into a wicked grin. - If you interrupt me again, Ill force that knowledge down your throat. - I concede. Take it away. - the Vice Admiral shook his head and took a hearty sip. - What do you know about Ouroboros medical company? - They hold an almost absolute stranglehold on the pharmaceutical market across the continent of Eurasia. Did their stock crash or something? - Nope, theyve been driving across the Empires cities recently with their blood-buses, giving out free vaccines. - Thats weird, is it some marketing shtick? - According to the newspapersC That was when her pen clicking returned. It was quite rapid, with intervals between sentences becoming much smaller than ever before. Nothing to throw Silvers off his game, but it was enough of a signal to garner his full attention. The more words he deciphered, the more confused he got. Sentence after sentence. What he was hearing became more and more outlandish. Are they insane? No, no, they cant possibly hope for this to work - he really wanted to say this aloud, but the relative passivity of Diesel could reach its conclusion the moment he noticed any type of treachery. He knew quite well how fanatical the Empires denizens were deep in their hearts. But, but, there is no way this will work - he couldnt believe what he was deciphering. - How did they even where did they get the money? Someone is backing them? No, no if they were backed they would Dear God, have mercy on this land. - his hand instinctively moved towards his chest. - The repercussions if anyone gets solid evidence of it all. How could they? Cicada is the leader of the Wine Cellar, so they are already handicapped Thoughts kept swirling and writhing in his skull, like a school of fish, fighting for bait. Whole trains of thoughts disappeared as quickly as he formed them after being supplied with more and more information by the ruthless broker sitting across from him. He instinctively reached towards his chest. Underneath the thick fabric of his sweater was a cross, Silver felt it out ever so slightly. He certainly needed its aid to digest what he was learning. The sailor looked at Veronica as she kept on talking about buses while clicking away the most unbelievable bundle of information he ever had to decode. She was grinning, with rosy cheeks. The behavior was very much suited for her, but seemed inhuman when juxtaposed against what her pen was saying. - But thats all hearsay. - she finished the tirade about Ouroboros vaccinations, while bringing an end to the pen abuse at the same moment. Silvers Winslow couldnt help but chuckle at such an abrupt end for both topics. - Yeah, I bet. - the mariner ran a hand through his curly hair. - Then why are you sharing it with me? Isnt this supposed to be a strictly professional brief? - Im keeping you on your toes, so you dont fall asleep on that stool. - such a response was cheeky beyond belief when taking into consideration what she just told him. - Yeah, I dont think Ill be sleeping tonight from all this excitement. - the man added under breath while getting off the chair. - Whats wrong? Your joints locked up? - A bit, but I have also noticed you ran out of paper to read to me. - Oh really? - the head secretary looked towards the open briefcase, not even hiding the fact that she didnt care about what she printed out to begin with. - Gee willikers, youre right, old boy! - What are you? An Anglo hillbilly now? - the mariner chuckled at her impersonation. - I was aiming more for that old ruling class from those areas, ya know? Those with tophats and crazy mustaches. - she jumped off her stool, nailing the landing. - Diesel, were done here, wanna bowl with us? For the first time since the moment Vice Admiral Winslow arrived at this establishment, he saw Diesel do something else than follow orders. The man nodded twice. Reveling in his obliviousness. Volume 2 Chapter 10 - Baggage Boundless blackness was all that there was. An endless expanse of nothing, so dark that it was almost blinding, so silent that it rang in ones ears. But it was calm. Like a still surface of a lake, it was soothing in a malicious way, inviting one to step in without a thought, without a care in the world. To step in. It stirred, restless, humming its promises in complete silence. But also its demands. To let the nothing that was now everything take you and wash you away, like a speck of dust taken by the torrential rain. There was no reply. There never was, and never would be. And so the serene silence bearing the promise of soothing finality cracked with a cloud of gray spilling into existence with whispered words. The hushed tones were like a distant thunder. Subdued, yet primal. Powerful beyond imagination. Yet they meant nothing, quivering, shifting and melting into each other, forming an unintelligible mess. A cacophony of sounds that grew in strength with each second that felt like an eternity, only to end abruptly, as the world settled in, blurry and incomplete. - My condolences. - a voice echoed, its tone unreadable. The fog outlined two silhouettes, clinging to their skin like water to glass, as they grew sharper with each passing moment. They stood opposite of one another. An uncomfortable stalemate of complete silence. The larger wore a coat and a rimmed hat, its face an unrecognizable blur. Expressionless. Alien. Cold. The smaller, a boy, was subdued, as if trying to disappear in the milky darkness. He turned, and a door closed between them as the mist swirled. The figure held something in its hands. A square envelope that it then threw onto a flat surface, disappearing from sight, only to reappear in front of a mirror. The fabric of this place quivered, becoming sharper, and another scene played out. The boy was walking, his gaze low and inoffensive, his presence not even a blip on the radar of the surrounding figures. They talked, but with each movement of their lips, only gibberish came out, like an old tape played in reverse. They did not even spare a glance at the boy as he passed them by, gently brushing past them. Suddenly, there was a commotion, and one of the shapes grabbed the boy by the wrist. He struggled, but to no avail, his limbs thin and weak. A sudden crash sent him to the floor, his weak grip letting loose a small item. The shapes now spoke with bile, their empty faces turned to him, and only him. Five, ten, twenty. The figures seemed to multiply as their scornful voices grew ever louder, until there was a sea of them all around him. A tide of judgement. Of disgust. They melted into one mass of liquid smoke and another scene emerged. The boy looked rougher, but more defined in this foggy realm. His clothes were tattered and dirty. His hair was a mess, and his hands seemed to crack at the slightest movement, same as his lips. The fingers of his right hand wrapped tightly around a gory ball of fur, dripping blood into the ever-present haze. In the other, he held a small object. Its jagged edge glinting through the fog with each shaky movement of the boys hand. - Ah - a voice rang out from everywhere at once, quiet, yet booming at the same time. Its tone melancholic and full of realization. - This again. As it spoke, the milky veil slowly lifted from the scene, and from its depths, like a carcass washing ashore, emerged yet another figure. Small and emaciated, it lived yet, balled up as it sat, with its back against a red brick wall. Its bare feet were covered in grime and shallow cuts. A sorry and wretched sight, one the boy was supposed to ignore. To walk past it and forget it, like the world did all the time. Yet he stopped, something drawing him to this pathetic thing. He looked it in the eye with a look of contempt he knew so well, and what he saw gazing back almost made him flinch. A hopeless look, tainted with indifference. An empty void that invited death instead of fearing it. The boy lingered as his body shook, urging him to move on, but he couldnt. An otherworldly pull rooting him in place. He sheathed the knife and reached out with his hand. There was a gust and the fog swept everything away in a blurry hurricane. Fight. Run. Eat. Repeat. For years, condensed to seconds as they flew by. Hand in hand with the little wretch he found in the alley. Blood flowed freely as wounds came and went, but they mattered not. It was survival. A never ending struggle to stave off starvation, illness and cold. Death itself. Gray and cold, just like the fog all around. Until it all came to a sudden stop when the spectacle of struggles halted at once. The boy, now taller by a head, stood before an ivory desk with a stack of papers in his hand. Food snapped into view, and a bed hard as rock, but his nonetheless. And his brothers. Years flew by again. Years of hardship, but also stability. The pain of a struggle, so familiar, now felt comforting in how predictable it was. Drills, drills, drills. Then war. Lives grinding against lives to see which one would remain. And his was hard as a diamond. A gem washed in blood. No longer a boy, he was a man. In conflict, he found a kind of peace. In his comrades, a strange feeling of solace. But none of those came without a price. As corpses mounted at his feet, so did the gnawing feelings of uncertainty. Uncertainty that he could not afford. And so he pressed on, trudging through the haze, until another fateful meeting. The mist parted to reveal a cage of glass, glistening in the shadowy expanse, its corners sharp and walls thick, but clinically clear. Inside, a small, human shape in the middle. Dark arms reached out from every direction, tearing at its body, taking black chunks out of it in handfuls as they grew back almost as quickly. Yellow ichor spilled from the figures wounds, filling the glass room. The man looked upon the tortured soul, and through the glassy surface he saw a familiar sight of a wretched face. Blank and absent, as if life itself was drained from it, yet not quite dead.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. His gaze quivered as something in the glass looked back at him. It was his own reflection from a time long gone. From the day he looked at himself in the mirror on the day he received the envelope. A face devoid of expression. No fear. No sorrow. A blank slate, untouched by emotions. It overlapped with the face of the figure in the cage perfectly, as if they were one and the same. It was also the same face the little wretch made all those years ago in the alley. And just like then, the man reached out his hand, sinking into the glass, ready to grasp the figures hand, but just as they were about to touch, something strange happened. A sudden feeling of dread overcame, not only him, but seemingly the foggy void as a whole. A tremor ran through the place, sudden as a lightning, and the small figure burst into flame. - No! - the all-present voice boomed, taken by panic, mimicking the mans panicked cry, almost drowned out by the burning figures agonal screech. The figure flailed and thrashed, slamming into glass walls as the flame consumed its flesh. Yet it grew as it burned away, becoming bloated with overgrown muscles that fueled the combustion in a never ending chemical reaction of death. The man slammed his hands into the glass, but with each hit got pushed away with redoubled strength. - Jason! - he screamed as his blows grew more feeble as his hands dripped with blood. And yet, there were no wounds. Only the coldness remained. But it felt different, it prickled his skin. It was the only sensation he could pinpoint at moments notice as his whole body felt numb. - Easy there old man, we thought we lost you there for a moment! - without much care Barbara threw the magazine to the ground, uncrossing her legs in the meantime. - Passing out while covered in blood without a word? That''s how heroes usually go out in movies, you know? Got us plenty worried. - I told you, his vitals were normal, he passed out from extreme exhaustion. - Armistice gave his newly awoken patient only a passing glance. - Everything else wrong with him was simply a matter of age and profession. - How long was I out? - Dirk didn''t feel like really getting up, he simply stared at the metal ceiling while feeling out his body, nothing was out of place. He simply overdid it, as shameful as it felt. More importantly he could no longer recall what he dreamt about, it dissipated like a morning mist. - A while. - vagueness was something he expected from Barbara at this point, despite her deep roots in engineering. He more or less hoped that the good doctor would take charge in the conversation, but no cigar. - But don''t you worry, we had been proceeding according to the route while you napped. - What? - Dirk turned towards the speaker, their bewilderment at full display. - The Our- - Don''t sweat it, we agreed to keep it under wraps. The big-wigs don''t know shit. - the mech pilot waved dismissively. - Michael is driving, with Spoon being his back-up. - Three Stooges agreed to it? - Of course they didn''t. But the old beer-belly convinced them quickly. Barbara leaned in, her face suddenly washed by childish glee. She took a breath and after a few attempts at forming a sentence she spilled the beans. - He decked Ted''s shit in so fucking hard, you should have seen it man. That was some of the cleanest combination of hooks I have seen in my life. - From Michael? - something didn''t align with Dirk''s image of the old gun-totter. - You telling me he bested Ted? In close quarters? - Knocked him five ways to Sunday. That sure was a surprising bit of knowledge to be greeted with after waking up. From the first interaction he took the aged war profiteer for more of a gun specialist, but not to a degree Black was. Due to the line of work and way he behaved. Last thing he expected was learning that someone with a sizable gut could move swiftly enough to take down an ex-military man, even if that man was Ted. "I''ll have to ask someone who gets less emotional about the details" - Dirk moved into a seated position on the bunk, causing the already seated merc to spring up. - Whoa there buddy, are you sure you want to move up so suddenly? - It was simple exhaustion, mind your own business. - You are part of my business-deal old man, so don''t get mouthy here. What the hell even happened to you out there? You were so spry and, genuinely, cool one moment only to collapse like a doll with cut strings the moment we werent looking. The old man exhaled. Maybe it was time to divulge some more info about himself to the people he somewhat trusted in the Scout Squad. Might as well start with the baby steps. - The special forces unit I used to be part of, had this specific method of fighting. - he began, instantly grabbing both medics and Barbara''s attention. - We were a rapid response unit, so what was required of us was constant vigilance, so our leader - Dirk meant himself. - devised a training plan meant to force us into a constant state of flow where our bodies could operate normally from the outsiders perspective while constantly responsive to all outside stimuli. He looked towards his listeners while swallowing a mouthful of spit, his throat was dry from sleeping. - You know how pro boxers are taught to relax their entire body, against natural human instincts, to take less damage from hits? Or how top level parkour specialists can disperse weight and speed of their fall no matter at what part of their body they are currently falling? Our training was meant to put us in a state of focus where we can combine all possible techniques invented in sports, combat arts and military to ensure that we can be constantly safe and vigilant while on duty. To ensure that we are in a ''counter-attack'' state no matter the situation. What he was saying was probably the most he ever said to both these people in the days they spent together. They were both visibly stunned but still attentive in their own ways, making their own silent conclusions to never before heard information about a dehydrated hobo sitting on a bunk - By the time we were deployed we all could hold that state for forty-eight hours straight if the situation required it. But it would strain our heads like you wouldn''t believe. - the old man chuckled, as if remembering those days, shaking head from side to side ever so slightly. - So we mostly held it for eight hours, a normal work-shift you know, it was enough to keep us in form while keeping us alive in hot-zones. With four hours of sleep our tired brains were ready to go afterwards. But look at me now. His mind returned from past to the present, as he looked into his open palms. - Few years of drinking and I can barely keep that state for a combat encounter after pulling an all-nighter. Then my noggin'' short-circuits, aging''s a bitch. - he looked at both Armistice and Garuda, finally done with his speech. - Now what does a man need to do to get a cup of water in this joint? Armistice was the one that got up, silently grabbing a bottle from one of his utalitarian cubbords. He took a few steps in Dirks direction and then threw it at him only for the latter to catch it without much effort. - You can improve your comedy routine, that''s for starters. - then he sat down again, before glaring at the old soldier from the safety of his desk. - Special forces unit that focuses on, what amounts to, perfecting a state that middle-aged women practice at yoga classes? For a second I hoped the moment of unconsciousness made you reconsider my request at helping with psych-eval, making both our lives easier. I suppose I expected too much. - What do you mean doc? - Barbara still was in the process of grasping the whole occurrence. - But he said all that stuff about boxers and shit, you''ve seen him fight? - Years of training and hard-wired combat responses, most professional former soldiers behave like that, this neural behaviour can be linked to an underlying PTSD. - the medical officers simply returned to his notepad, while smirking slightly. - What? Maybe you also see in slow-motion while in said zone? Get real or stop wasting my time. Dirk almost felt offended by such a comment, especially after opening up in front of his squadmates for the first time since the establishment of their group. Alas, he had to make peace with it. After all, the validity of his words will remain, regardless of lack of understanding, disbelief or ignorance. So once they wisen-up to it, they will thank him. With that he casually sipped on his water, it was somewhat bitter. - What did you put in this water? - the old soldier couldnt help but frown. - Vitamins and other microelements. - the doctor took a pen and began scribbling something again. - Your body is pretty low on those after a prolonged state of unconsciousness. Id advise you to drink the whole bottle. - Doctors orders. - the vet smiled ever so slightly and drank again. Barbara got up, approached him and patted him on the shoulder, somewhat condescending. - Dont worry old man, I believe you. - her genuine smile ran contradictory to her gesture. - Still, now that youre up and about Imma split, poor Elephant is driving my pickup, she must be pretty lonely in there. - Sure. As she was about to leave - One more thing. - Dirks words made her turn around. - Thanks. She wanted to ask what he meant, but then she seemed to realize what it was about. - No sweat, were a team after all. See you around. Have a good one doc! - Armistice grumbled in response. - Ill alert Argonaut that his master is up and about. - Hes not a- - Dont worry. I think he likes me! With these words she left the room. His gaze remained on the closed door for a moment, before taking another greedy sip. The taste was growing on him. Volume 2 Chapter 11 - What you sow After half an hour of Dirks restless squirming and Armistices failed attempts at convincing the old man to rest for just a little bit more, the old veteran got gently kicked out of the office, as even the doctors patience was bound to run dry pretty quickly when it came to childish foolishness of his patients. That one facet of his medical profession was the one constant that came with working with, and on, other people, be it in a tidy office, or deep in the trenches. - Keep hydrated and well-rested. No all-nighters for a long while if you can help it. No combat-rolls, no heavy workouts and definitely no driving for at least two to three days, unless you want to send all of us into an early grave. - Ill do what the job requires me to do. - Dirk scoffed over the shoulder with one foot already out of the room. - It requires you to not get an aneurysm. - he shot back with a kind of simmering indignation before the door closed between them. Aneurysm Dirk rolled his eyes. If I was going to get one, it would have happened ages ago. Dirk took a deep, exhausted breath, despite being awake for less than an hour, and was immediately hit with the stale, heavy odor that only a truck full of men with limited water supply and a single tap next to the shitter for cleaning purposes could have. Add to that a tinge of dried blood, and the mixture became truly volatile, especially for a person freshly risen from the grave. It made Dirks face scrunch up a bit, but hed smelled worse in his day. If Dirk had to admit one thing to the doc, it was that his place at the very least was clean, both in appearance and smell. There was a faint note of formaldehyde there, but it was preferable, all things considered. But since the blood was still in the air, it couldnt have been too long since hed blacked out. Anywhere between 16 hours and just over a full day. Dirk shook his head. It didnt matter. Now was the time to fix whatever the others managed to mess up in that short amount of time, starting with the cab and the unauthorized drivers within. It wouldnt take long, since the cab was a stones toss away. With confidence befitting his position as the designated driver, Dirk opened the door without as much as a knock and entered, only to be blinded by the sheer whiteness that peered at him through the windshield. So it was the middle of the day, with a snowstorm for good measure. Spoon turned around with an annoyed look - that was new. His helmet laid on the dashboard, revealing his dark complexion. Based simply on the mans voice Dirk would have never guessed he had gypsy roots. Darker skin, pitch black buzz cut were heavily contrasted by uncountable acne scars covering his face. At least Dirk thought those light spots all over mans face were acne scars But after a second glance he discovered their true nature. Those were burn marks, ones that healed very poorly. Michael had his eyes in front, focused on driving, but Dirk could tell that he was tense, his muscly arms bulging as he gripped the wheel without as much as an acknowledgement of his arrival. - Well, if it isnt the wannabe general? - the youngling hissed. - What was that? - Dirk shot back almost immediately, the word general referring to him sending a chill down his spine. Was the secret out? - Whatever, you bastard. Since youre back in, Im out. - he barked all too quickly as he grabbed his helmet, ready to head out, but got stopped by Dirk as they rubbed shoulders. - Whats with the tone? - he pierced the little shit with a cold stare. There was a lot he could let go, but not first thing after waking up. - Oh, theres a lot more to it than just the tone. Raise a gun on me or my mates again, and I will be the one delivering a bullet to your gob. - What is this about? - Dirk naked without much thought. Hed only wanted to send Ted a clear message back in the woods. Unless - Dont bother. - Michael cut in, his cold tone vastly different to his usual warm demeanor. - I told him everything. - About what? - Playing dumb wont help you here. If not for Miss Prusk, youd have Matchs blood on your hands by now. And for what? For him getting scared a little when all hell broke loose? Breaking formation, maybe? Dont make me laugh. - Dont speak so lightly, salesman. - Dirk growled back, his nerves already strained. - If not for that formation, wed all be dead long before we even had a chance to take a good look at the enemy. - Spoken like a true military man. - Michael scoffed. - A mindless Imperial puppet. - Watch your mouth. - Or what? Youll shoot me too? - he stomped on the break, causing the truck to jerk forwards. - The last two people who tried to start something got put on their asses. - he added, raising from the drivers chair to meet Dirks miffed gaze with that of simmering rage. - Ted didnt forget about that, by the way. - Spoon spat out, seemingly fed up with both of the men, but just as he was about to shove his way out, the door to the cab opened, almost hitting him in the face. - Keep it down you shitstains. - the voice of Black resounded from the corridor before he even stepped foot in the cab. - Great, just what we needed. - Michael huffed, crossing his arms. - Would you mind stepping out? This is a private conversation. - he spoke with authority and an evident lack of patience. - Private my ass, you half-witted larder. Cant even take a nap with the way you are driving! Its a wonder you havent driven us into a ditch yet. - his eyes were scornful and more tired than usual. He shifted his gaze to Spoon just as the door slammed shut. - Should have shot that little shit buddy of yours if you ask me. - You fucking bastard! - Spoon barked back, his hand flying to his belt, but it was stopped by Michaels firm grasp. - Stand down! - he bellowed. - All of you! The last thing we need is a shootout. - he commanded. - So you knew? Actually, nevermind. Leave, before I make you. I dont need any more complications here! - he snapped at Black, but only got a disdainful smile in return. - Theres nothing to complicate. The little shit had it coming. Theres nothing more deadly for a group fighting for their damn lives than a weak link who cant even stand in line like a proper soldier. - Let me make one thing clear to you two. - Michael squeezed his fists like he was about to strangle someone. - I dont know what kind of expectations you two have of us, but they are clearly misplaced. This is not the army. It never was. If you are still kidding yourselves that youll get perfect pawns who fall in line the moment you stomp your boots a little, then you are sorely mistaken. You have no authority here besides the one we give you. - he huffed, anger in his eyes - And with the little maneuver you pulled, I have no more trust in you. - he faced Dirk, his whole body resonating with grim resolve. - So what is this about? A revolt? - Dirk scoffed. - Call it what you will, but thats a generous assessment, considering you waltzed in here just assuming youre the boss. I followed your orders on a gut feeling that you were fit for the role, but trying to kill those under you is where I draw the line. Even if the three idiots are a pain in the ass. - And maybe you want to lead, huh, tons-of-fun? - Spoon gave the man a side-eye, his expression betraying that he felt surrounded by enemies. - No. Well hold an election later on. Maintain a modicum of civility. - Losing time on pointless bickering while theres a legion of mutants out to get us. Should have stayed in your cozy kiosk, because you clearly dont know how things work on the battlefield. - Black chastised the man with all the bile he could muster. - The alternative is a complete collapse of any kind of teamwork. But fine. Im a reasonable man. Im willing to at least hear the reason as to why youd pull this kind of shit. - he turned to Dirk, expectations plastered on his face like a fine tapestry. - I dont have to explain myself to anyone. Especially not amateurs playing pretend as a military unit. - by this point, Dirks inhibitions were pretty much gone, his mind muddled with anger and the memory of Ted trying to shoot him. But was there a point in mentioning that now? - So those are your true colors? - the rotund man pressed with disappointment. - Always were. Some people are just too blind to see the signs. - Dirk dismissed him with a wave of a hand. - You either do the job right, or you shouldnt bother at all. Some of you clearly shouldnt be here if holding a line is proving too difficult. Michael sighed heavily and reached for his belt, where a short-range radio was hanging. He took it in one hand and spoke into the receiver. - You heard all that? - Yeah - a female voice crackled back with sadness. It was Barbara. - I think this makes things pretty clear-cut, dont you? - I dunno. Hes an old grump. Do you think hed admit to a mistake? Maybe he got confused. Got knocked in the head and mistook Match for the enemy? - the mech pilot fumbled for an explanation, which only baffled Dirk further. She knew exactly what happened, their short exchange not long ago pretty much confirmed that. So why bother covering for him? - Did you, or did you not, have to stop him from shooting your teammate? - I did. - she conceded. - There you go. Youre a kind soul, Ms Prusk, but there are things, actions that cant be taken back. I dont know why youre so hellbent on defending Chernobog, but itd be best if you moved on. - Are you done? Is the humiliation ritual over? - Dirk shook his head, clearly unaffected by the weight of the situation. To show weakness now was to walk among the wolves. - Unrepentant till the very end. - Spoon clicked his tongue, finally shoving his way out of the room. - If thats all, I relieve you of your temporary driver duties. Michael stared him down, his eyes searching deep for something. Something he didnt find. - East Wind agreed to meet us halfway, because theres some tricky terrain further down the road. The coordinates of the meeting spot are marked in the console. Were a stones throw away, so just get there and wait for them. - he spoke with no emotion. His face became weirdly menacing when he was not smiling. - Roger that. - Dirk responded in a strictly-business tone, then let the man take his leave. - Dont let the idiots cloud your judgement. Strong leaders have to make hard decisions. - Black patted Dirks shoulder reassuringly, but it felt forced to Dirk. - Next time, just let me dirty my hands. With those words, he left, but in his stead appeared another figure, perhaps the only one Dirk wanted to see at this very moment. Jason bent down to fit through the door frame and gently closed the door as he made his way in silently. Dirk collapsed onto the drivers seat with a huge exhale, massaging the bridge of his nose, while Jason sat beside him, his helmet obstructing any and all emotions that might have shown on his face, but his restless hands gave away his unease. - Are you feeling alright? - Dirk broke the awkward silence, pondering if he should even look at Jason in his current state, or if the young man would be able to read too much from his eyes like he always seemed to be able to do. - Are the burns okay? - I should be the one asking. - he murmured back. - Im good as new, but you - Im fine. - Are you really? - Are you implying something? - The teams been falling apart while you were snoozing. - Yeah, I can see that. - You want a rundown? - I really dont right now But dont hold back. - Ted and his buddies tried to take over. Ted said that hed sooner eat his balaclava than ever listen to your commands again. Said that all you do is bark impossible orders while his mates get torn to shreds. But Michael socked him in the face so hard he staggered back a few meters. It wasnt a sucker punch, either. They traded blows for a solid five minutes. - I see - Dirk huffed out, righting himself in his seat and reaching for the ignition. - I dont think you should strain yourself quite yet. Let me drive if we have to go. - Cant do that. Our covers already getting shaky - he strained his mouth for a second, the because of me part was left unsaid. - Cant risk anyone seeing you behind the wheel. Besides, our next stop is close by. I can manage. - IC - Just - Dirk interrupted. - Dont make me look any more uncool, alright? Jason kept quiet for a moment that seemed to stretch for way too long, before letting out a chuckle. - Didnt take you for the type to care about that. - You wouldnt believe - Fine, but Im stopping you by force if I see you overdoing it. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.- You can certainly try. - Dirk cracked a cocky smirk, but deep down knew that Jason wasnt kidding. Dirk booted up the small display screen on the dashboard where the charted path was supposed to be waiting for him. Sure enough, the surrounding terrain was thoroughly charted and a very specific path through the scarred land was laid out before him. This level of detail was honestly impressive, with each turn specified by a coordinate and the exact turn angle, as well as small visual landmarks to facilitate easy navigation. Dirk couldnt tell how useful the latter would be, considering the snowstorm, but he appreciated the professionalism, even if the attention to details seemed a bit overzealous. He got to driving and found the experience somewhat pleasant. Maybe it was the thrum of the engine, or the pitter-patter of the snow on the windshield, but he managed to calm down a little. The conversation with Michael was a giant fiasco, but there was nothing to be done about that for now. If they couldnt keep up with him at the helm, then perhaps it was best that they choose a leader more on their level. Dirk had done everything he could to ensure the groups survival and that was that And yet something gnawed at the back of his mind. A feeling of dissatisfaction, and a bubbling need for vengeance, which he quickly pushed down. Maybe if Ted hadnt pushed him before, then perhaps Dirk wouldnt have lost his temper. But navigating all the what-ifs was a pointless endeavor. He fucked up, end of story. Dirk wasnt the type to relent just to stay on peoples good side. Hed just have to power through until his reassignment. He still had the form in his bag, filled out and ready to go. The drive didnt last long, however, as Dirks vision suddenly started going a little blurry. A miniscule fact, yet it didnt go unnoticed by Jason. Keeping true to his promise, he stopped the old grouch despite his weak protests and the truck came to a stop once more, a few kilometers before the rendezvous point. - Whats the matter, old man? Your hands are shaky? - Barbaras voice on the radio came almost instantly, and her bubbly, yet mocking tone seemed almost unaffected by the recent events. - Yeah. - Dirk answered sarcastically, rubbing his eyelids. Then there was silence for a few minutes, until Dirk got an alert that somebody opened and closed the trucks back door. After that, it was a matter of seconds before Barbara materialized in his cab. - Werent you in your own truck? - he asked, his tone almost accusatory. - Yeah, but I cant just leave you out to dry, now, can I? Now scoot over and let momma take the wheel. - No, what I meant was, what about your truck? - Elephant can take good care of my baby. She already proved herself. This, though. Not everyone can drive this cumbersome beast! - she leaned over Dirks shoulder and caressed the driving wheel, before giving it a good smack. - Not through the zigs and zags were about to go through, anyway. Now out with you. Take a nap or something. - Stop. This is a clear breach of contract. - Nobodys snitching. I told you already. Its either this, or were late, and you just know which one the corpo-rats will prefer if asked, dont you? Besides, youre not exactly popular at the moment, you know? The least you could do would be to accept my kindness here. Alright? Alright. - she stated, then tried to shove her way onto the seat, but only partially succeeded, leaving both herself and Dirk in the awkward position where each of them was only half-sitting on the same seat. - Are you done? - Dirk grumbled. - If so, go back to your truck. I bet there are a lot of repairs to be done on your mech. The last time I saw it, half of it was fried, so you should monitor it really closely. - Fried is a strong word. It got battle-hardened. That, plus I cant really do any maintenance in this snowstorm. We have to get to that goddamn settlement, or camp, or whatever else you called it, first. - It doesnC - And we need to have a talk. - she dropped the bomb. - A strategy meeting, if you will. - With whom? You and Argonaut? - Dirk snapped back, simultaneously refusing to move from his seat. - I dont think anyone else would indulge my strategies at this point. - We wont have to bother anyone else for this one. The old man could have sworn there was palpable melancholy in her words. But he must have misinterpreted something. Such behavior was unbecoming of Barbara. - If you want that meeting, then I have a proposition. Let''s get it over with now, so we wont have to stop needlessly before reaching the outpost. - without waiting for her response, Dirk got off the chair, conceding the driver spot - Are you sure? Wont that- - You already interrupted me, vying for the wheel. So what''s a few more minutes of delay? - Well, okay. With the duo reaching some common ground, Dirk pressed the button to remotely open the back ramp, rousing some displeased scanding from the back of the truck. He let them go, he had enough headaches for one day. - Argonaut, to me. - Chernobog commanded before leaving the cab. As he passed the sleeping quarters and made his way through the cargo hold, he felt a multitude of eyes judging his every step. But none of them called him out for letting the cold in, they had much harsher grievances towards him and have already voiced them a-plenty. But one thing seemed odd to Dirk, that with all this hostility around him, Jason acted uncharacteristically passive. Despite them being on stage, his friend decided to forgo the behavior that characterized him in the eyes of other mercs thus far. The old man found it somewhat disheartening. After all, he did tell him that their cover might become compromised at this rate, yet the young man didn''t seem very keen on reinforcing it at the moment. Maybe he needed to tell it to him more directly next time they were alone in the driver''s cab. Once they made their way outside, the freezing air and rushing snow began assaulting Dirks face. If he didnt have as much hair on himself as he did, it might have been painful to bear the brunt of the snowstorm. But in his current state it was manageable. As they made their way through the snow, the old man counted exactly eighty steps, an average amount of distance he would have to put between the truck and himself to avoid others mercs eavesdropping on their strategic meeting. With that done, he turned around and looked towards Barbara, who uncharacteristically lagged behind. That behavior only strengthened the feeling he had concerning the woman''s reluctance towards this whole rendezvous. Which could only mean one thing, she had something to discuss that neither of them would enjoy. Unless Did she find out who I am? - Dirk thought, blood in his veins suddenly becoming colder than the air around him. The young mechanized suit owner was very attentive from the moment they met. She spent more time around him and Jason than any other member of the Scout Squad, which meant she had much more time to collate answers for many idiosyncrasies in their behaviors. He made sure to pay extra special attention to how they conducted themselves around her, but she only ever acted a fool in response. There was no way that someone learned enough to make their own walking machine from scrap would be as oblivious and boorish as she was. He didnt buy it from the very start. He gazed at Prusk in grim anticipation, silently judging her attempts at letting words out of her chest. Opening and closing her mouth like a fish removed from its watery habitat. Just as his patience began to run thin, she finally spoke. - I dont think the others are wrong. - her voice was softer than usual, but still loud enough to pierce through the howling wind. - About your behavior I mean. - Can you be more specific? - the old man frowned. Was there something else the other mercs were discussing while he was unconscious? Something that Micheal omitted, willingly or otherwise? - About you fucking up big time, old man. - she specified as requested. - I snitched on you because I thought it was out of line to just shoot Match over him, acting within the rules you set upon us. - Is thatC - Let me finish. - Barbara cut him off. That action took Dirk aback, ever so slightly. Even if he began to grow somewhat accustomed to the lack of respect all the Ouroboros mercenaries showed him, being interrupted in such a simple way by someone usually as bombastic and energetic as Barbara felt out of place. - I can tell you have much more experience than any of us. Im pretty sure we all can. Even Ted, despite his dickish personality and jock-like mentality. - she lifted one of her arms and awkwardly rubbed the nape of her neck. - You know more, you experienced more, you lived through more than any of us ever will in this day and age. I get it, I respect it, old man. But are you yourself aware of it? The old soldier scoffed. - Im genuinely asking, Chernobog. - she didn''t get discouraged by his disrespect and kept pressing on. - I may be sounding like a broken record here, since you have heard your share of complaints already, but when you look at us, do you see us for what we all are? Or what we can be in your eyes? What Barbara was saying felt painfully out of character in Dirks opinion, but at the very least it proved that she didnt know anything about him and Jason. Which lifted a huge weight off his chest or rather it would have if he could in any way confirm how much she knew. Only being able to work off what she told him gave him some peace of mind in this instance, but he couldnt be too sure that she wasnt lying. Life would be much easier if he had more people keeping tabs on other mercs. He couldnt help himself but envy Marcus and his mini-machine hive. - Whats the difference? - Dirk interjected. - You people choose out of your own free will to kill and die for money, just like soldiers do. What you all think you are is insignificant. My job as the commanding officer is to forge you into a competent military unit. But it would appear none of you cherish your lives enough to follow simple orders. Especially that trio. - Dirk felt tempted to point that out, but he decided against it. He felt like he said enough. - Old man, why are you acting so stubborn? - Barbara looked him straight in the eyes. He couldnt say with confidence if he saw pity or sadness in her stare. - What makes you so afraid to open up towards new things? - Afraid? - he might have sounded more condescending than he intended. - I dont know what you see within me, but youre a terrible judge of character, kid. I simply do what I know is right and disregard the opinions of any up-starts that neverC He stopped mid-sentence. Realizing what he was about to say. How moronic it was of him to get even slightly heated up in such a pointless discussion. Maybe he should have stayed in Armistices clinic, the wounds he sustained seemed to be taking their toll on his mental faculties. Nothing more than that The old soldier passed a glance at Jason, who remained still as a statue. With the gilded helmet on he couldnt fathom a guess what he was thinking, it would be more reassuring to hear words of someone who agreed with him for a change. - You reached some misguided conclusions when it comes to what I think. - Dirk coldly stated, not wanting to entertain this conversation any longer. - Will that be all, or you have something more to add? Barbara fell silent for a moment. Visibly downcast by his response. - No, I dont think so. - she sounded quite defeated. - Just think about what I said, okay? Im not trying to lecture you here, old man, Im just trying to help you see things you might not notice from where you stand. - Duly noted. There was nothing else left for them to talk about. The woman must have felt that as she relented and turned around towards the truck. - But dont think I forgot about your driving snag. - she warned him while walking away. - We both want to avoid another argument with the guys, so the moment you start feeling woozy behind the wheel, give me a holler, ye? - Ill think about it. Chernobog watched her silhouette slowly disappear into the snowstorm. Another person he thought of as a potential asset, becoming a nuisance. - Can you go escort her to the truck? - Dirk asked the only person left. - I need a moment. - IC Suddenly, a new silhouette appeared, approaching them from the direction of their Taurus. It made them both pause. Did Barbara forget something? Maybe Michael on his way to give him another weak-hearted sermon. There was one more person he thought about, buried deep in the recesses of his mind. Ted. On his way to settle the score. After all, there would be no real witnesses to give account of what happened in the snowstorm, and Dirk was still worse for wear. After a minute, the mysterious person turned out to be neither. It was someone he already spoke with today, for better or worse. - What do you want Spoon? - Your undivided attention for a moment. - the man in a thick bomb-suit declared, his voice muffled. He carried no weapon on himself. Which corroborated the genuine nature of his statement and his na?vet to a degree. - Lets hear it then, but be quick about it, Im freezing. Volume 2 Chapter 12 - Conclusion and Concessions The issue Dirk pointed out concerning Jasons current appearance only worsened with Spoon around. As now both people accompanying him had unreadable expressions, limiting the amount of information hell be able to siphon out of the upcoming conversation to the most surface level exchange. - Im here to get even with you. - Spoon spoke. Despite the meaning such a statement carried when taking into consideration the relationship between the old soldier and Three Stooges, the gypsys voice carried no malice. Not to mention that he was severely outgunned as things stood. - Can you do that without one of those grenade launchers of yours? - Dirk smiled slightly while raising both hands to his mouth and blowing hot air in between them. He wasnt trying to be standoffish before, the cold was getting to him. - I regret to inform you that despite our first interaction telling you otherwise, I am not the biggest proponent of violent solutions. - Yeah, youve got Teddy for that, dont you? - Friendship isnt the same as indentured servitude, old man. But I am pretty sure you might be one person in the world that would fight me on that ground. For the first time since Dirk awoke, Jason got in character and uttered a guttural growl. His reaction was unnecessary, but appreciated. A slight snark was palpable in the Spoons voice as he spoke, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. - Anyway, back to the topic at hand - Stop beating around the bush and get to the point. - I am here to apologize on behalf of Ted. - Excuse me? - that was the last thing a soldier expected to hear from the man before him. After all, but a few minutes ago he was chastising him with the rest of Scout Squad. Not to mention that Dirk openly contemplated gravely wounding or even killing one of his friends. What he was saying made no sense to put it lightly. - Do not misunderstand. Im not absolving you of what you did, fact remains that youre an unpredictable, selfish old coot- - Tell me something I dont know. - Dirk interrupted, quite tired of hearing the same thing. - Not to mention that delusional and dangerous. But your tactical acumen is sound. - Why thank you kindly for the carrot. - That in itself tells me everything I know about the position Ourobors assigned to you and validates their decision. - Youre quite eloquent arent you? - Nevertheless dont push it, old man. - Spoons voice turned more stern for a moment. - I may not show it like Ted, or Becker, but after Garuda told us what you tried pulling during the battle I was willing to disregard my better judgment and strangle you in your sleep. Old soldier appreciated that even in his emotional bout Spoons way of carrying out his vengeance was in line with his rational and calculated personality. It is in those moments of weakness people show their true colors after all. - It is by the grace of Micheal and Armistice that youre breathing right now. - Cute. But Im not keen on thanking people after they told me what they really think about me, so you better get apologizing because this sermon is growing tedious. - God, youre insufferable. - Spoon whispered to himself, but thankfully Dirk was able to catch it, despite the helmet. - I want to apologise for the altercation between you and Ted that occurred before the battle. Dirk couldnt help but frown hearing these words. Just thinking about that shitheads attempt to kill him with his back turned made anger well up in his gut. If it werent for the explosive specialist being part of their triumvirate he would assign them all to the most exposed spot within his battle plans. The aforementioned mercenary must have noticed that expression change as he continued putting words together much quicker than before. - I have no clue what exactly transpired between you two, but Ted never was the type of dude to keep things to himself. So being made aware of that, I am giving you the benefit of the doubt in saying that he was wrong to do whatever he did. But, him inconveniencing you is no excuse to- - He tried to kill me. - Dirk said flatly, catching the other man off guard. - He tried to shoot me in the back, projecting some bile he held while at it. So taking that into consideration, choose your next words wisely. Silence befell them, within that span of time Jason was looking directly at him, probably taken aback by that revelation. After all, he told no one about it and intended to keep it that way. Someone like Ted wouldnt be able to kill him even if he were to be laying hog-tide on the ground before him, so the stunt he pulled didnt really change Dirks opinion of the man. He simply remained a liability and a pain in the ass. But the same couldnt be said about Spoons reaction to that revelation. He was visibly racking his brain as to how to continue the conversation. Were he in a better mood, the old soldier would have probably laughed looking at this struggle, but currently it simply annoyed him that this behaviour prolonged his exposure to the freezing wind. - What did he exactly say, old man? - Some typical hog-wash about me not really wanting to protect the team, about being pushed enough in his life, about him being the only boss he answers to - God dammit Ted. - gypsy murmured, as if hearing these words many times already. - Taking what you told me into consideration I am still upholding what I said before. - You trusted me that easily? That says things about your bond. - Chernobog couldnt help himself. - I know Ted long enough to know that what youre saying is something he could do, given sufficient push, which the two of you have been giving each other since the beginning of the assignment. - so said the Spoon, tension in his voice turning into disappointment. - Shit. - Now dont give me that crap, gypsy-boy. - Dirk decided to stand his ground. - Your jock-of-a-friend jumped a fucking gun there and you know it. If I snitched about it to HQ hed get a summary execution, youre lucky I didnt kill him myself. Before you ask, it wasn''t out of goodness of my heart, they were simply bigger fish to fry at the time. This whole topic shift put Spoon on the spot. He was struggling between the right thing to say and desire to defend his friend. Seeing him so flustered showed that at the end of the day, no matter how rational he wanted to act, he was a human being, not a true soldier. Man wearing the bombing suit broke the status quo and started moving, instead of standing like they all did. Few steps here, a few steps there to finally squat in the snow. - I take it you dont have much more to say? - their driver grew impatient with this whole fiasco. - There is an explanation. - man continued, answering Dirks question. - For Ted being the way he is, you know? I think thats the least I owe ya. - Frankly, I dont give a damn. - It could help you in managing the unit, if you were to know more about us. - Spoon made a good point. - Reliable intelligence is the hardest thing to obtain in impromptu groups like ours, it has its weight in gold, Id say. Dirk couldnt help but notice that when he spoke in a less official manner his infections werent that different from his friends. - What guarantee I have that you aint feeding me bullshit? - Chernobog crossed his arms over his chest. - I have no way of verifying what you say, information like that is useless and you know it. - Consider it a collateral, for Teds failed assassination attempt. - mercenary looked up at him. - Thats the best I can do to even the score. He really didnt feel like listening to someone else''s problems, especially to Teds. But ignoring the information that Spoon carried would not only be stupid but actively detrimental to him and everyone else under his command. Not to mention that even if Dirk were to actually transfer to a different unit, knowing more about the Scout Squad could prove useful in the social hierarchy of Ouroboros forces. Taking that into consideration- - No matter what you unveil to me about that dickhead, Ill warn you now, since you seem to be a tard-wrangler of your group, in the future youd best keep him as far away from me and Argonaut as possible. If you truly care about your friend. - Dirk declared, at the same time silently agreeing to listen to what he had to say. - Duly noted. Let me just say one thing ahead of time, some of the things I say might fly over your head. - The hells that supposed to mean? - Youre not from the Anglosphere. - the quick and direct way in which Spoon declared that filled Dirk with unease. - Why you say that? - The slang I used a few times since we met. Fact that you had no reaction to it shows that youre neither a nail, nor a hammer. - Spoon used more terminology that the old man never heard in his life. - Forget about it, just be aware that some things may sound incomprehensible to you. - Then why dont you explain them while youre at it? - The glossary of culturally significant terms of the society you know nothing about isnt part of my apology gift. - the mercs slight smirk from the beginning of their conversation returned. - Aint that fucking convenient? - That will force you to talk more with the rest of the Squad to decipher what youre about to hear. - You cheeky brat. With that explosive expert got off the ground and began spinning the yarn. - Me and the guys, we came from the Sphere. Me, Eric and Ted, peas from the same pod, trio of dumb kids born into the indebted class, destined to huff fumes and work our ass until the day we die. - Dirk surmised that Eric must be the real name of Match. - I used to work in the power plant, felt inkling towards machines since I remember, not as much as how they work or making them, but just workin'' with them. Like some people like driving cars, but not really working on them, you catch my drift? Eric worked at a nearby parish, always was the most eloquent of us three, even taught us how to read, could you imagine that? Dirk certainly could not imagine that, as the chaotic way in which Spoon spoke grated on his ears to no end. Did he act this way on purpose? Or was it the way he behaved off-duty? More questions and so few answers. - But he never believed in the scriptures, saying that "he don''t see God anywhere". Bit morbid, but that''s just Eric. Ted? Well Ted was a bellhop at a hotel where most of our superiors resided, in luxury and splendour. - vitriol in his words was audible and assured the old man that hed probably have spat on the ground to accentuate this spite, were it not for the helmet. - While we killed and stole to survive every day in the industrial burrows. It was during those childish, formative years I got seriously injured by an overheated boiler, can still remember how they both bawled over my bed in the hospital. Thats the explanation for his face I suppose - Dirk thought, tapping the snow with his booth rhythmically. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. - Still can''t tell if I find it hysterical or gut-churning, anyway. After that day I got a bit into explosives, tried to really get to know the ins and outs of their workings, so such a mishap never happens to me again. Got only so much skin to spare. That was also around the time we were all hitting our 16th birthdays. In the Sphere it''s a dour occasion. - Why? - Dirk interjected. - Mandatory military service, that''s why, five fucking years of it. - Spoon made his opinion on the military very apparent. - Really straightened us out. It allowed me to deepened my knowledge of explosives, so I didn''t mind it too much. It wasnt that surprising to hear that a mercenary has military service behind his belt. They wouldn''t have made it this far without it, but learning that Anglosphere had a mandatory military service was something new to him. He heard no such a thing during the old days. - Ted also used to look at that time through rose tinted glasses, that''s where he bulked up and got his bullish demeanour from. - That checks out. - Chernobog smirked. - He became "A True Anglo Badass" as he called it. Sounds stupid now, but each time he said it there was this fire in his eyes, made me respect the notion. Everything made sense to Dirk so far. When it came to the logical structure of what Spoon was telling him. It was annoying how he was skipping through some details that would prove very useful to the former military officer, but there was nothing to be done about that. Hed be forced to inquiry someone else about them. Maybe Black, as he was currently the only man he was on good terms with. - Only Eric despised the service. - gypsy continued. - When we got discharged something was different about him, but to this day I don''t know what and he doesn''t want to talk about it. Guess it''s between him and God. Of course after the mandatory five years you gotta go back to the factories, if you''re from the "indebted class", that''s just how it is. Slaving away until the day you die, not having enough to pay the government back for all those years of "protection". Guess all over the world it aint sunshine and roses - old man thought. - I dont know if its good or bad that each super power seems to be turning to shit equally. - So we all three made a plan to skip town. With the help of a good friend we met at the border patrol we managed to disappear into the thicket and from that day on, our life as mercs began. Each of us- - That was fucking abrupt. - What? - Spoon was quite surprised with this interjection. Probably because he got absorbed into the tale and was reaching its conclusion. - They didn''t chase after you? I doubt any militarised country would be happy with its properly trained military personnel disappearing abroad. - That''s not worth the resources. - explosive specialist surmised. - If we ever decided to come back to the Sphere the grid would find us instantly. Then we''d have to pay our due and that''s what the government wants at the end of the day, isn''t it? - Money. - the storyteller silently nodded to these words. - If we don''t come back, not a big loss, just another bunch of worthless pseudo-slaves gone with the wind. Silence signified the end of this tale, one that was much more concise than Dirk expected. He didnt even notice any cypher within to throw him for a loop, nor slang to screw with the overall message. Dirk couldnt decide if it was Spoons naivete or a genuine helping hand. - So that''s where we are currently, always chasing the bag, always moving forward, nothing to come back for and only riches ahead. - Yeah, yeah, you three and everyone else. - Dirk did a quick stretch, now that the story was over. - Still doesnt really explain why Ted is such a cunt. If he enjoyed the service he should be accustomed to following orders.Which leads me to a singular conclusion With his body bounding back to its proper position after a stretch Dirk pointed towards Spoon in an accusatory manner. - Youre holding out on me. The accused said nothing in return. Which in itself proved the old soldier''s point. - If you wont tell me then Ill learn on my own in due time. Jason, to me. - with that he passed by the mercenary. - That concludes our little break, now does it? - Right. - gypsy answered, following him back to the truck. - Still, Im quite surprised. I would have never guessed that out of your trio youd be the one talkative type. - Never judge the book by its cover, Chernobog. Hearing that Dirk couldnt help but smile. Such a cliche saying, but so perfectly apt for both of them. Maybe even the whole expedition of theirs? Rest of the way back to the truck they covered in silence, with having nothing else to really say to each other. But once they reached their mobile base, unsurprisingly Eric and Ted were already at the precipice, alongside Michael. Once they spotted them Ted took charge. - The fuck were you two doing out there? Inside of the truck is fucking freezing due to your little stunt! - Then why didnt you close the ramp? - Dirk asked a sound question. But received only a scornful gaze in response. - Because queen bitch is occupying the cab, just as you told her. - Ted made a wrong assumption, but since it wouldnt be the first time the old man didnt really care to correct him. - Is that so? There is the controller on the side of the ramp you know. - You think Im daft or something? Its the f- Mikes fault. - the leader of the Three Stooges corrected himself, seeing as the man in question stood close by. Michael stared at them silently, the disappointment still prevalent on his face. - I assume youll be fine with driving again Chernobog? - he called Dirk out. - Yes. - the old soldier had nothing else to say to him. So they passed each other by and Dirk headed towards the cab, where Barbara awaited him. As he approached he managed to catch voices from within, the young pilot was talking with someone on the radio. He assumed it was probably Elephant, as she was taking care of her vehicle and its cargo. But as he slowly opened the door a familiar voice reached his ears. - Devochka I wouldnt know that. I mightve been alive back then but that doesnt mean I gave a shit about every single little thing in my country, simply because it existed when I was younger. - What do you mean, red? You didnt have a driving license back then or something? - the argument in which she roped her speaker was quite heated. - Durak, of course I did, but for civilian cars, not heavy duty trucks! - Am I interrupting something? - as Dirk said these words Prusk turned towards him. She had taken his seat and had both legs thrown over the steering wheel, getting way too comfortable. - Oh, its the old man. - she exclaimed, while holding the PTT on the receiver. - Say hi, red. - Suka blyat, D- Chernobog, bratuha, you werent calling for so long I thought you forgot about the little old me. - Morozov yelled so loudly into his own receiver that audio began to peak. With a careless throw the temporary driver lobbed the microphone towards Dirk, who managed to grab it without much issue. Nonetheless he frowned, ensuring that she was aware of his displeasure concerning such a sloppy maneuver. Troublemaker smiled in return. - Yeah, I suppose it has been a while since we last spoke, Misha. - Chernobog began, while sinking into the passenger''s seat. Once he did so, the Tauruss engine sputtered and roared to life. Without any proper authorization female mercenary resumed their monotonous parade through the frozen taiga. - What I heard from Barbs quite a lot happened on your side, da? - You can say that again. - hearing his old friend''s voice released a lot of pressure from the former war-gods body. - Fought some mutants, da? On two separate occasions from what I can tell. - More info from Garuda? - while they talked Dirk idly watched Jason close the door to the cab, while he stayed outside to guard the door. Nice gesture on his side. - Nyet, word travels fast. - that was not the response he expected. - You mean Ourobors was relying our situation to other units? Thats simply- - Stupid. - Misha finished his sentence for him. - I know tovarish, but thats not the case. Even if HQ wanted to keep a tight lid on the events of past hours, simply saying that Scout Squad encountered terrain difficulties was too brief of a summary to appease human curiosity. - So info leaked from chatty Ouroboros employees? - Da, loose lips sink ships, as westerners say. - Id have to trust you on that. - Dirk had minimal exposure to Anglosphere culture and custom throughout the years. It was somewhat of a blind spot in his extensive knowledge. Fortunately not many people knew about it. They werent as much of an imminent danger to the Empire as Kintsugi Union, being a continent away and all. - What droplets did you manage to lap from the leaky faucet? - Chernobog decided to satiate his own curiosity before filling Misha in on the truth. - Oh, there were many rumours! - Russian began to drag his words and fluctuate his pitch, making mockery of what he was about to say. - Some said that remnants of The Red Rebellion ambushed you all, looking to replenish their forces for another offensive against the Empire! Now thats rich - Dirk couldnt help but chuckle over such a notion. Guess there were quite a few romantics in their mercenary ranks. - Those more rational people simply theorised that some in-fighting must have erupted and to settle down the disputes you lot had to stop and regroup. - Damn, if they knew how close they were to the truth. - Barbara chimed in, with a pretty weak laugh. Due to the nature of their method of communication Misha couldnt hear her comment and that was for the better. Since Dirk couldnt help but find such a joke very sour, taking the current mood within the Squad into consideration. - Still, what I can tell after cross referencing my sources is that you got into a squabble with a very hungry fauna. Please tell me none of you died, because youd have to be a real durak to die to fucking dogs and pigs while armed with automatic rifle. - Misha laughed loudly into the receiver. - Youve got that right. - what his former rival was saying made sense, but also brought him dismay. Not due to its actual message, the fact that it was laughing at the dead. No, the issues were the implications towards a person that would allow such an event to occur - a person that failed at steering the incompetent sheep away from the wolfs jaw. As much as it hurt him to admit. He was the shepherd in this allegory. It was his duty, no matter how incompetent were people under him, to keep them alive. His duty and burden. - Somethings bothering you, bratuha? - Misha asked a peculiar question. - What do you mean? - I can hear it in your voice. Wouldnt be much of a friend if I couldnt pinpoint these little changes. - That sounds more like something you developed from chronic poker addiction - Ha! Pashol na hui, you prick. - Red Mill laughed heartily. - Still, no topic changing here, who wronged ya? Whos gonna be losing their kneecaps on the first bus stop? - Youve got a pen and paper on you? Its gonna be a long list. - Dirk couldnt help but smirk. - Ive got my personal scribe sitting next to me, their ink is fresh and parchment dryer than my throat, davay. Two men began to spill their woes on the radio-waves, unabated. Oblivious to the eyes watching them from the deep, dark night. Volume 2 Chapter 13 - Stale Air - Would you look at that. Civilization! - Barbaras voice rang in Dirks ears as he opened one eye to look through the windshield, and sure enough, the never ending white expanse finally gave way to the dark gray grime of well, something. Whatever the blotch in the distance was, Dirks first thought was that it was foolish of the woman to assume that they had reached their stop, but he saved the comment to himself, feeling a little drowsy and out of his element. - Did you sleep well? - she added with a smirk, but kept her gaze trained on the target. - I wasnt sleeping. - he denied with a confidence of a seasoned liar. - I was resting my eyes to spare myself the snowblindness. - Sure, and your snores were actually insightful pointers for me in Morse code, yeah? - I dont snore. - You so do! Like this: Hrrr haaa Hrrr haaa - she mocked him a little too eagerly, but her tone was had a coat of sincerity that almost made it hard to get angry about it. - But Im glad that I could make myself useful. I hope you had a good rest. - What are you grinning about? - Dirk couldnt hold in the words, discreetly rubbing one eye. - Oh, nothing. I never really had grandparents, so I thought just now that taking care of the elderly feels pretty nice. - I could be your father at most, and that''s stretching it. - he grumbled, crooking his head to peek at Jason, who was watching from behind, still as a statue. But Dirk could feel the shift in his aura. He was holding in a chuckle. Dirk sighed. - Maybe if you had me in your forties, old stuff. Besides, it takes two to tango. Do you even have anybody at home to get that baby-making going? - Are you probing me? Drop it. - Touchy subject, huh? Fine, have it your way, but just so you know, I had some premium advice for pulling ladies. - Whats the point of asking a fish for fishing advice? Ill pass. The one thing I want to know from you is our ETA on the settlement. - Twenty minutes tops, pops. - she cocked an eyebrow, satisfied with the little rhyme, but rolled her eyes quickly when she caught a glance of Dirks stony face. - Its smooth sailing now. You slept through most of the hardcore off-road driving. Zigs and zags, ups and downs. Wasnt easy, but I think me and Effluvium are getting to like each other. Oh, we also took point again, since the terrain is stable again. East wind and Elephant are just behind us. - I already told you. I wasnt sleeping. Despite the initial agreement where Barbara was supposed to merely be the backup driver for whenever Dirk couldnt keep going behind the wheel, she quickly monopolized the drivers position, plowing through the snow with all the motivation she could muster and then some. Dirk couldnt unlatch her from the steering wheel even once after their first swap, and so she drove through the whole night without as much as a yawn to show her fatigue. Dirk wanted to click his tongue as something ugly welled up inside him, which he couldnt exactly put his finger on. - Right, right So anyways, whats the battle plan? - We go in, pick up our supplies from Ouroboros, buy anything useful the Russians can spare and continue on our way. I dont think it was necessary for me to explain it. - God, I hope they have a shower. Or at least something that resembles one. I reek. - You do. - Wow, old man. - I do, too. Its the reality of human conflict. No time, no resources, no facilities. Its a wonder nobodys gotten an infection yet. Armistice must have fed us some kind of Ouroboros immunity enhancers. - And you of all people didnt make a fuss about it? - Hes a cocky bastard, but its plain to see that he knows what hes doing, at least regarding all the drugs. - Ahh Stinky and drugged up on god knows what. I like our odds in town. You think well blend right in? - Just keep your mouth shut. These arent the kind of people you charm with jokes. - You underestimate my skills, old-timer. - she smirked, sitting up straighter as they rolled closer. I can get along with people. Most have a soft spot for a spunky gal. You being the sole exception. - Spunky gets you shot in the wastelands. And youre not getting along with anyone. People just give up any resistance with you around, since you never seem to stop talking. Barbara let out a theatrical gasp. - Well, excuse me, Mr. Sunshine. Maybe if you smiled once in a while, we wouldnt need a charm offensive. - The last time I smiled, the guy across from me thought I was baring my teeth. Didnt end well. - Okay, noted. As the truck rumbled closer, the details of the settlement sharpened into view. It was a patchwork of leaning buildings cobbled together from scavenged steel, broken concrete, and corrugated tin all thrown together on old remnants of what once could have been a small town. Barbed wire crowned the outer walls, but several gaps in the fencing betrayed its patchwork nature. Watchtowers stood unevenly at the perimeter, the guards atop them bundled in mismatched coats and clutching rifles that seemed as cobbled together as the settlement itself. Smoke billowed from a few chimneys, swirling gray amidst the falling snow. A group of figures huddled near the gate, their faces obscured by scarves and their postures tense. Even at a distance and through a layer of rust, Dirk could make out the unmistakable glint of firearms. - Now thats a cozy looking place. No red carpet for us, though. A shame, considering what we had to go through to get here. - she joked with a crooked smirk, though her eyes betrayed a shadow of exhaustion. Their last fight was a nightmare scenario to start off their journey, and it was hard to keep morale from sinking. - The only carpets they use are the ones they roll their dead into in lieu of caskets. - Gnarly. The truck shuddered to a halt a few feet from the gate, and one of the figures stepped forward, rifle slung across his chest. He raised a hand in a universal gesture to stop, then reached for his belt, where he kept a small radio. Dirk flipped a switch in his own device in the cab, and it automatically found the frequency after a few seconds. - State your business! - the guard barked in a rough approximation of Imperial language with a thick Russian accent, voice muffled by a fraying scarf, the howl of wind giving the transmission that distinct crackle in the background. He stood a good fifteen meters ahead of the truck, but even then Dirk could see his eyes. They were sharp, but his face was gaunt. Sunken from hunger or sickness, Dirk couldnt tell which. - You better not bring trouble. - He added after a moment of sizing up their monster of a truck. - Define trouble. - Barbara shot back before Dirk could react, fiddling with the radio as if she owned the damn thing. - Were just passing through. - Dirk corrected strongly in fluent Russian, feeling the guards suspicious gaze sweep over him and Barbara. Even despite the distance and the windshield between them, the man pierced them with his gaze, easily following their movements in the cab. He was focused. Detail-oriented. That was the true mark of the people of the wastelands. The eyes of a hunter. - Ouroboros sent word. Were picking up supplies. Well be gone before you know it. The man jerked his head to the side in a sort of disapproving motion, before giving his colleagues a sign. With a creak, the makeshift barrier groaned open, revealing the settlement in all its grimy glory. - Impressive. You really put that guy on the spot. What did you say? And where did you learn that? - Learn what? - The language. Duh. - Were in the heart of Russia. What do you mean where did I learn? - I just I dunno. I guess its not that weird, considering youre friends with Red. It just felt strange hearing you talk like that. Didnt take you for a polyglot. - Appearances deceive. - Guess they do. Inside, the streets were little more than mud trails laced with ice, dotted with makeshift stalls where traders peddled worn tools, canned goods, and ammunition. People moved in tight clusters, casting distrustful glances at the newcomers as they whispered among themselves. Children, dressed in dirty, oversized rags, darted between the buildings, their laughter at odds with the oppressive atmosphere. A faint heartbeat of a community clinging to survival. The air reeked of smoke, sweat, and decay, but the place was alive. Barbara steered the truck through the narrow path, her eyes wide as she took it all in. - Charming place. I think I was lowballing them, asking for just a shower. You think they have a spa? - Barbara snickered, clearly trying to lift the weird mood the sights put her in. - If by spa you mean a barrel of cold water in an alley, then maybe. - Dirk muttered, ever the serious one, scanning the faces in the crowd. The weight of all the eyes pointed his way made his hand hover over his holster. The gun would do little for him in the cab, yet the instinct was simply too strong to resist. - Youre really selling the place, Chernobog. Now I know for sure youre fun on road trips. - These people dont trust outsiders, and they wont hesitate to make an example of us if we step out of line. And I doubt Ouroboros would care about us. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.- Relax. The worst I had planned was just some window shopping. Not many windows in those stalls, though. - Not one word out of line from you. Do you understand? - Or what? Youll crack a smile to intimidate me? - Dont test me. She kept trying to make light of the situation, while Dirk did his damndest to keep the conversation grounded. Like a tug-o-war, they wrangled the conversation in opposite directions, both oblivious to just how much stress was slipping through their masks. Barbara soon found a small clearing where she could park and with a last hiss of the exhaust, the engine of the mighty Effluvium went silent, leaving only awkward dead air in the cab. - Do you want me to relay something? To the team, I mean. I havent yet fallen out of graces, unlike a certain someone. - I told you what to do. Who you share that info with is none of my concerns. - he grumbled in his typical grumpy fashion. - Keep your head low and dont give the locals any reasons to hate us. Also, dont stray too far. They seem hard-pressed for supplies, so it wouldnt surprise me if they tried to repossess some of ours. - Wouldnt they have taken them already if that was the case? - The cache is a sturdy thing with an electronic lock, opened only with the right password, which they dont have. Now go. Ive had enough of you for now. - Geez. No need to be so prickly. And here I pulled an all-nighter to let you nap in peace. - For the last time, I wasnt napping. - Take care! And with that, she left all too quickly, having sowed the seeds of annoyance in Dirk. When the faint sounds of her footsteps were but a distant patter, Dirk finally let out the words hed been holding in for a while now. - What are you grinning to yourself about? - Im not grinning. - Jason replied quietly, approaching Dirk and leaning against his headrest, while the old man leaned forward, covering his eyes with one hand as he rubbed them gently. - Besides, how would you even know. You cant even see my face. - I could feel that stupid smile on my back the whole trip since yesterday. - What can I say. Im happy to finally see you well-rested. - I wasnt - he took a deep breath. - Nevermind that. Was anybody spying on us? - Not as far as I could tell. Nobody even approached the cab. - So they can keep out of my business after all. Would you look at that? Perfect. - Dirk muttered, then changed the subject. - Well be going out for a stroll in a bit, so get ready and keep your eyes sharp. The locals here... they are on edge, and not just because of our arrival. I think they can tell us something about the thing that attacked us if we approach them the right way. - Do you really think they know anything about it? - Its worth a shot. Jason stayed silent, his gaze shifting towards the drivers seat, where Barbara was sitting not long ago. The weight of her usual overbearing bravado and friendliness hung in the air, leaving a strange void behind. - Shes not wrong, though. - Jason spoke after a pause. - About what? - Youre too prickly. Makes people defensive. Dirk turned his head, narrowing his eyes at Jason. - And what would you suggest? A nice smile and a warm handshake? Jason shrugged, unbothered by Dirks glare. - Wouldnt kill you to try. - Wouldnt save me, either. - Dirk reached for the radio and adjusted the frequency back to their team radio. - People here arent defensive because of me, Chrysos. Theyre scared of something. Something they know very well. - We both know I wasnt talking about the locals. - Spare me the rest. My only mistake was trying to play nanny to a bunch of misfits. - he huffed. - Were on our own, Jason. We need to survive here now. We move units, and we forget about these people. But to do that, we need to be prepared for the storm to come. And there will be a storm. I saw that thing. Just a glimpse, but it was enough. Now, lets move. Were wasting daylight - He stopped for a second, then added - We can look for those showers, too, while were at it. That last bit seemed to take some tension away from Jason. Barbara would surely appreciate it. Not long after, they touched down on the grimy snow outside, the biting cold air now mixing with the occasional gust of prickling black smoke which scratched the throat and irritated the eyes. Another source of irritation was the familiar group of three young mercs with Ted at the front, already causing a ruckus with the group from the other truck. - What took you so fucking long anyway? Did you have fun watching from a distance as we were getting torn to shreds, huh? - the young buck stared somebody down, but his frame completely obstructed who it was. - Charting a path in the middle of the night during a snowstorm is no easy task. I say my tempo was exceptional. - A voice answered dryly. Just those few words confirmed for Dirk to know who it was. - Exceptionally slow. How about I bring you on an exceptionally fast trip to the ground, huh. - Fucks sake, Ted. Can you stop already? This is just stupid. Lets just go. We have the dibs on whatever the Ruskies have in store, remember? - Spoon cut in, weirdly upfront with Ted. - Dont tell me youre taking this guys side? How hard can it be to drive around a big hole in the ground, huh? - I said give it a rest. I need a full restock and Match is running low too. If we dont get what we need, youre gonna be shooting solo the next time this big fucker rears its ugly head. - Fuck. - he barked, turning around on his heel. - This aint over yet. - he shot to East Wind, before storming off. At this rate, Ted would no doubt start something with the Russian, and Dirk half-wanted it to actually happen. But the last thing he needed was to be lynched by association. As the Three Stooges waddled through the mucky snow, Dirk gave Jason a simple whistle and a gesture pointed towards the trio. Didnt take a genius to get what that meant, and so young Chrysos gave chase, if a brisk walk in their general direction could even be called that, leaving Dirk to his own devices. - Fool. - East Wind commented briefly, before turning towards Dirk with an inquisitive look that peeked out from underneath a thick fur hood that, in tandem with a scarf, obstructed most of their face. They wore a warm coat and had a bow and a quiver slinked over their torso. Dirk never really got a good look at them before their unit split and departed, but now upon closer inspection, this was the same person who was eyeing him in the canteen, back at the abandoned quarry. He pushed those thoughts aside. He almost wanted to apologize for the misbehavior of his unit, but it was no longer his problem, so he opted to just move on with his business, but was stopped promptly. - Chernobog, I assume? - East Wind spoke up, stopping Dirk in his tracks. - Arent you going to discipline your subordinate? - Im not his boss anymore. Changes in the power structure. - Acknowledged. Who is the commanding officer in that case? - To be determined. - In that case, I shall take it upon myself to properly discipline them myself later. - They stated matter-of-factly, giving a slight nod, but before they could leave, another person inserted themself into the conversation. - Discipline? Oh, dear East Wind, let us not be so hasty! - Said a tall figure exiting the other truck. He was a man around thirty, dressed in a black cassock, a pair of practical leather boots and a long, tightly wrapped, itchy-looking gray scarf. A long string full of maroon beads hung by his side, ending with a simple wooden cross. It was a rosary. This must have been Vincenzo, one of the many anomalies within the Scout Squad - Here in this biting cold, among adversity, we can all lose our way. Guidance is what we should seek to depart on our brethren, and let the Lord do the judgment in due time. It is only just. - That book of yours says so? - Dirk interjected with skepticism. - Perhaps you would care to find out yourself later on? - Hard pass. Not much of a reader. - Thank you for your input, Father. - East Wind addressed the man with respect, but the word father did not carry the distinct reverence of a believer. - I will consider your words, but certain behaviors simply must be corrected. I fail to see how god could solve the issues of insubordination. - Ah, but the Lord works in mysterious ways, no? Perhaps this ruckus was a test of patience, meant to strengthen your souls! Or perhaps Ted is just a bit of a hothead. - Hothead is an understatement - Dirk muttered, crossing his arms. - See? Even Chernobog agrees! - Vincenzo said with a laugh, laying his hand on Dirks arm, much to the mans visible irritation. - But let us not burden ourselves with wrath. I say we forgive Ted for his youthful zeal and pray he doesnt get himself punched in the face before sundown. - And this approach has worked for you in the past? - Dirk countered with a question. - Oh, absolutely not. - Vincenzo with a subdued smile. - But one must try, no? After all, turning the other cheek is a practice, not a guarantee. - Before you go on a tangent, let me be blunt with you. I dont see the purpose of a priest in a military convoy. - Dirk gently, but decisively, shoved the mans hand away, taking a step back to get a fuller look at him. - That is very blunt indeed. No offense taken. But let me ask you this: Have the convoys of old not had one such as me to tend to their members spiritual needs? In such harsh conditions, it is rarely people who seek God. It is our Father who finds them, and perhaps Im here for that moment. - Has that happened already? - No. - He answered immediately, but without a shred of hesitation or shame. - Then I dont see it happening ever, if even the latest events failed to convert any weak-willed fools. - Dirk spoke with no filter on, as was often the case, but Vincenzo didnt seem fazed in the least. - Even so, I have found myself in this place not without a reason, and it is as plain as it can be. - He said, looking over the little town risen from ruins. - What will you do? Give a sermon to those people? - Dirk asked, seeing an unmistakable glint in the priests eye. - If enough people need it. - You do you. - Dirk dismissed him, not really caring anymore about the units inner workings. Again, not his responsibility. - If you ever need my services, or simply want to talk, find me anytime. Now, if you excuse me - He gave a proper bow and took his leave. - Unlikely. - Dirk sighed, just now noticing that East Wind had snuck away already, nowhere to be seen. Hed have to keep a better eye on them next time.