"Hey Reez. How's it feeling?"
"Ho hum... Been playing video games all day." Reez put his controller aside and grabbed the phone off his shoulder.
"Oh," Nolla replied, "I have a few documents about your jobs for archiving. I could go and drop them off at your place."
"What?... Oh, no, no, my place looks like shit! How about I go to yours instead?"
"Uh, can't do that; there's tons of stuff in the sink and my bed isn't done and my panties are lying everywhere."
"Not like I haven't seem 'em already."
"Whatever! I bet my place looks shittier than your place."
Reez grinned. "If only you knew." He put the phone in front of him and aimed it at his living room. With a click, the embedded camera had taken a shot of the empty bottles, the chip bags, the papers and everything else that made his living room the hardest area to safely navigate.
Nolla didn't say anything for a moment. "...You have me beaten."
Reez chuckled. "Are the documents really important?"
"No. As I've said, they're only for filing away. Stick 'em in your binder as usual."
"Oh, if that's the case... I'd rather stay here and keep playing. I'll just get them next time I bump into you or something."
"All right. Well, I just wanted to check up on you, see how you were faring.
"The video games keep my mind busy."
"Okay then. Talk to you later!"
But, not a second after Reez had put the phone down that it rang again.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Reez Lokk?"
"Speaking...?"
"I'm Mr. Karl from the Department of Technology. I've got a job of high importance available and am looking for someone loyal and dependable to handle a delicate situation."
"Wait, wait a minute - who referenced you?"
"Reference? Mr. Kod Naïnsev himself. He's told me a lot about you."
Kod had received an invitation from the Department of Technology. They had scheduled his off day to show him whatever new contraption they had made up. He knew beforehand the Department liked to offer new toys to the UM on the grounds of "concept technology" and "a taste of the future" to hide the fact that they were just field testing and the Mercenaries were the guinea pigs.
He arrived at the garage to see the Department's representative: a peculiar black-haired, black-suited man with a pair of opaque sunglasses and a grin constantly plastered on his face.
"Ah-ha! Mr. Naïnsev, my friend! How are ya today?" The man grabbed his hand and gave it an energetic shake. "Mr. Karl from the Department of Technology. We've got a little something you might be interested in!"
Karl was talking about a vehicle hidden under a cloak.
"OK boys, show him! Pull towards the front, please!"
The revealed vehicle was a tank of an SUV: A blocky, armored monstrosity with a spiked bumper and wheels large enough to crush a compact with little effort.
"Presenting, the Castek Hunter M!" Karl announced. "We took their urban-oriented car and made a version specifically for the military and law enforcement. The Class M is wider, longer, more rigid, and has armor plating wherever we found space to stuff it. The engine's powerful enough to let you streetrace any hotrod in the city, and we've added a Boostfuel component to improve on the speed factor even more. We felt this represented the armed corps well enough: strong, swift and dependable."
Curious, Kod opened the door and sat behind the wheel. The interior was nothing but luxury. The seats were covered with smooth leather of a light beige color. The extra switches and components seemed like they were no add-ons but rather part of the stock package, flawlessly integrated into the console and dashboard. Faithful to the automaker's tradition, the steering wheel sported a silver A inscribed within a C - Castek's logo - and taking up at least half the available surface.
The Mercenary whistled. "How much does that baby cost?"
"This one? Nothin'. It's property of the UM as a whole, and they're offerin' it to you as your work vehicle. The guys upstairs told me a lot about you. They think you have the potential to be a good figure in the eye of the citizens. Ya know, some famous lady calls you up and asks for a bodyguard durin' her stay, and you get there in that huge truck with your full uniform and armed to the teeth and you say, 'we got ya covered ma'am!' Do you realize just how... awesome she might find it?"
"Well..." Kod repressed a smile.
Karl laughed. "I'm glad you agree! And besides, nothing stops you from just taking off with it. After all, that truck was assigned to you. What did you use to ride in?"
"Oh, I live at walking distance. Otherwise, I have a friend who--"
"What's your friend drive?"
"Lancila Rabbit."
"Rabbit? You said a Rabbit?" Karl threw his arms up. "Holy sacrament, the loudest sergeant son of a bitch in the UM is riding in a friend's Lancila Rabbit! How d'you get yerself in that thing? You're what, seven feet tall?"
"Seven two."
"Seven two! Well, I don't know what you think, but I know for sure that if your friend there gets her little Rabbit knocked up, there won't be much left of you after we pull the pieces apart. The airbag alone would punch you in the balls! You don't want that, do you?!"
Kod chuckled.
"Well!" Karl continued. "If you accept, that truck's yours for as long as you're an active member of the UM. And if you take good care of it, we might update ya with newer models as they come along. You'd be surprised at how many inventions the Department comes up with in a day!"
"What about those that make it past the drawing boards?"
"Oh, good one! I like ya, Kod. You've got a head on your shoulders and you don't let just anybody step on ya."
Kod was busy examining the truck's equipment again. "But just how the hell are you gonna convince the army to use that truck? Last time I saw 'em, they were driving on seats made out of bags of foam and refused outright to pay for anything better."
"Don't sweat it. That one's a special edition. Our first, our number one! The others will be a lot more rugged and specialized for desert operation. What you're drivin' here is urban stuff made for urban situations, and for pickin' up some urban girls! You know, the sophisticated kind! Here's the key. Make 'er roar!"
The engine came alive with a thunderous sound.
"Holy shit, how many cylinders are in that thing?"
"What?!"
"How many cylinders?" Kod yelled atop the noise.
"It's a V-12! Why?"
Kod turned the engine off. "Let's try that again..."
Karl chuckled. "So, as I was saying... It's a V-12, made by Specialty CC. It's got more horsepower than torque so don't try to pull a load with it. So? Is this a good truck, or is this a good truck? Waddya say, my friend?"
Kod nodded. "It's a pretty damn sweet truck all right."
"Awesome!" Karl slapped the keys into Kod's hand. "Enjoy your pimp ride, Mr. Naïnsev. Give your fellow Mercenaries a little ride tonight. Who's under your supervision? Maybe I know a few of them already!"
"Uh, well!... There's Fil Mateo, Reez Lokk, Nolla Lephon, Yowa Kaidach and Drekan Riverst. Small but dedicated."
"Five plus you, that makes six. You pull the third row up and you've got a party!" Karl shook Kod's hand. "If you ever need anything, you just call me up at the Department. If it hasn't been made yet, we'll invent it!"
Kod laughed. "So that truck's part of your sales pitch?"
"Somewhat. I only got one of these though. The rest of 'em will get free kitchen knives!"
Karl... Karl... Reez could faintly remember the man... Dark, strange and wild.
Oh yes, the one with the leather gloves! That's what had struck Reez the first time around: Karl always wore a pair of black leather gloves.
"Hmm... Yeah, okay," he answered into the phone. "Okay, mister... Karl. You know I'm on a leave right now?"
"Yeah, yeah, I know that. Doesn't stop a Mercenary from jumping right back in, does it? Besides, those guys keep sayin' they're gonna go take a week-long vacation and then they come back two days later 'cause they burned all their cash buyin' drinks and playin' cards!"
"Well, yeah, some of 'em do..."
"Don't go tellin' me you're rich, now!"
"No, I'm not. But I ain't poor either. Anyway, what's the damn job? Doesn't cost anything to know..."
"Right, yeah, the job! It's a hunt request. You're to go in the desert due west, following Highway 13. You will explore Old Bunker #45 and take note of anything unusual."
Reez sighed. "And what's delicate about this?"
"Hold on, I was coming right to it! You'll be looking for any organic stuff or related to medicine: vials, syringes, blood, and instruments. If you find any leads, you are to follow them until you get to the end of each."
"So... I must go to some place, look for something and if I realize they left a trail of peanuts behind, I follow until I bump into someone?" Reez made a face. "Are you really serious about this?"
"I'm dead serious. And you're not just going to any place, my friend... You are going to explore the lair of Shrike Naïnsev."
"Wait a minute. I'm trying to forget somebody's death at her hands here, and you want me to jump right back in there? Are you out of your fucking mind?!"
"Reez, what's better? Forgetting your friend ever died, or doing everything you can to make it so it doesn't happen again?"
He stayed silent...
"You're not thinkin' straight." Mr. Karl continued. "Your folks at the Union aren't thinkin' straight! Sittin' around and playin' video games ain't the way to solve a problem! Don't you have a thirst for revenge? If you met another 'droid like her, would you kick its ass?"
Reez sighed again. "What gives? She was there in front of the Governor with her five friends and they're all gone for good, what more can you expect?"
"Oh, but Shrike didn't die. She disappeared."
"Disappeared from the top of a building, whatever! Everyone knows she's got to be dead."
"Nobody saw her."
"The police found pieces."
"I could find drops of blood belonging to you. Should I assume you're dead? Besides, would Shrike be so stupid as to risk her entire company right into a hornets nest of police and armed forces? No. She wasn't desperate enough to do that. She did nothing but a risky operation that went wrong. She wanted to spread an ideal, my friend. That means she left at least some sort of offspring or replacement to pick up where she left off in case she didn't return. Don't tell me this ain't logical."
"It's logical, it's logical..."
"Awesome! Then we're on the same page, you and I. Get going at your leisure but don't take too long. Cobwebs contaminate the evidence!"
Click.