6

CHAPTER ONE

Somewhere in the middle of Texas

(Lone Star State of the Coalition Regime)

110 P.A.

I feel the Sun's intense heat as it blazes off the endless mounds of sand, with no signs of civilization for miles on end. I lie here, flat upon my back, unable to move like some helpless turtle who can't seem to roll over. Buzzards circle high above me in the sky waiting for me to kick the bucket, as just a few arms length from me is a burning wreckage of a sky cycle, which was my ticket home, but now is some just a metal heap of its former self. Nothing in view but the mighty Sun bearing down on the Earth below, the buzzards overhead, and me, the infamous Gunner, lying, waiting for death, with only one thought that continually fires through my mind…

'Damn newbies.'

In the past hours I've been beaten up, kicked, stabbed, bitten, electrocuted, shot, burned, blown up, and took a swan dive, pummeling into the earth from about two hundred feet at eighty miles an hour. Now the super advance cybernetic systems that compose half of my body and that have miraculously kept me alive this long; are torn to shreds as I can hear the sounds of metal grinding against metal echoing in my bionic ears. The cold sensation of various lubricants mixing with my blood, slowly trickling out of whatever frayed puncture from my cybernetic parts or open wound they can find, sends a chill up my spine. Oddly enough, my multi-optics still function, as they switch over to polarization mode due to the Sun's rays trying to burn out my retinas, so at least I won't go blind before I die. Although the tiny sparks of electricity flickering all around me from some of my systems might change all that, and that's the good news.

Life support systems are shot to hell; my bionic lungs feel as if there're on fire, and I probably have more broken bones and pieces of shrapnel in me than I can count. Not much time left I imagine, pretty soon I'll be nothing more than a four hundred pound carcass for the buzzards.

All I can do now is lay here talking out loud to myself, to God or to the deadly scorpion that I just now notice that is crawling up my arm, and think about how I ended up here, in the middle of nowhere, battered and broken, unable to do anything but wait to die. It reminds me of one of the many things that my daddy used to tell me, 'Son, there's nothing quite like being a gun for hire, it's a life filled with endless adventure, easy money, and loose women, but the ending you get, sure does suck.' God, I should've stayed in Reno.

It all began about a couple of weeks ago; me and the boys had just come off a gig up in Kentucky where some cold hearted magic boy had been robbing and terrorizing one the nearby towns pretty bad. He'd managed to build up a pretty good haul too, that is until he came across us. Pissed off the Feddies like no one's business, seem o' Merlin was friendly with some of the major movers in the Federation, who didn't take too kindly to a group of mercs cashing him in. Now lying low for a while at the Lucky Pond was the plan, and enjoying some well desired R&R.

If there ever was a place on this rock that a gun for hire could feel at home, it would be the Lucky Pond. Where the liquor flows like rain, the women are easy, and if one has the creds, well, to each his own. Built like an old timely saloon three stories high, that is usually crowed with its fair share of the worse D-Bees, humans low-lives, outlaws, adventurers, mercs, and anyone else that's doesn't want to be found. Not the kind of place for the faint of heart I might add, or those that believe in justice, but a little slice of heaven for us that live by the gun.

We hadn't even been in the place for an hour before o' Spike, the stupid lizard; and Nails were already plastered and singing along with the lovely ladies on stage. They even seem to manage to almost drown out the tiny country band playing their hearts out in the corner behind the safety of a clear MD plastic wall. Cassandra, or Cassy, our fiery redhead resident Cyber-Doc, was playing cards with a group of sharks, and beating them something fierce. Dead Eye, or D as we call him, was busy trying to impress the ladies as he practiced his trick shooting skills at various objects placed upon the weary heads of drunken men, who seem to have more brawn than brains. Me, well I just sat down to have me a brew, when two boys disagreed on a hand of cards at Cassy's table got up and started trying to knock each other's block off; a common event that happens around here. The two wannabes little tussle spilled into the corner that I was sitting at and managed to fall into the table in front of me, crushing it into pieces. Lucky enough I had my mug in hand, and just slid another table in front of me as the two men ended up on the other side of the room, which caused four other boys to join in, making for some good entertainment.

Yep, all in all everything was going quite well, I had money in my pocket, my crew was happy, and all seem right in the world, that is, until I peered over my mug to see McClain and his shadow Dex walking towards me through the chaos. Till this day I still never know how that S.O.B. can always find me.

Grabbing a nearby half broken chair that is missing it's back , McClain places in front of the table that I'm sitting at, and has a sit with that boyish grin that always seems to be a permanent fixture on his face. He was wearing civilian clothes, just some jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black leather coat probably made out of low grade MDC. A quick glance at him and you wouldn't think much of him as he seemed to be just an average guy, with his unkempt brown hair, brown eyes, his farmer tan skin, or could you tell that the man's a intellectual genius by the way he acts. But no professional would be worth squat if they didn't notice the MDC body armor nicely concealed underneath his shirt, and the hidden Naruin plasma pistol tuck at his side.

His buddy Dex, on the other hand is an athletic black man who's a little bit bigger than McClain, and stuck out like a sore thumb with his long black dreads as he was dressed in some sort of strange multi-colored monk get up, with only a long wooden staff tied around his chest, that gives you the impression that he done screwed up and brought a knife to a gun fight, but I know better. He takes position behind McClain, ever alert on his surroundings, and it isn't too long before some poor schmuck, too curious for his own good, gets a quick chop to his neck and its lights out.

McClain had told me once that Dex was some sort of Kung-fu master that fell into a rift and ended up in this dimension. Years of training and from what I gathered fighting against the vile villains that plague his world had either made him into a true good doer, or the naives person I've ever meet. Even to this day I still can't understand how McClain ever convince him to follow him in the first place; probably some trick he picked up because of that massive brain of his that gives him the ability to be a sliver tongue devil.

'Nice place you found here. Has that, waiting to be robbed and left for dead feel to it.' Max says as he glances down at the poor boy that Dex had just cold cocked.

'Guess they'll let just about anyone in here,' he says as he takes his foot and moves the young man's coat to the side, and sees that he's an off duty CS solider.

'Obliviously', I tell him, hoping to get a rouse out him, but he just turns back at me smirking as usual.

'What the hell do you want McClain?'

'Straight to the point, that's what I've always liked about you Gun.'

'Stow it.'

Undaunted and still grinning like an idiot he just continues on.

'I've got a job for you.' he tells me as he pulls out a tiny data tablet from his coat pocket and slides across the table. I don't even brother looking at, and just take another swig from my mug.

'Humph. Every time you got me gig McClain, I end up having to get myself overhauled.'

'This one easy, just need some info on a research project taking place in a remote facility in Texas.'

I pause for a moment before setting my mug back on the table, taken back about what o' Max is asking me and my crew to do. I suddenly get the feeling that whatever McClain is after is going to end up getting me shot in the back.

'Texas? Now you wouldn't be trying to send me and my crew in the Skullies backdoor now would ya?'

'Exactly', he replies, as his smirk turns into a devious smile.

I roll my eyes, taking another swig from my mug, and contemplate on either how crazy he is to think, I would even consider going toe to toe with the Skullies on their own tuff, or if I'm going to be swayed into another costly venture.

But that's McClain, a good hearted fool in the big bad world. Use to run with my crew a few years back, that is until he became one of the top one hundred Coalition's most wanted dead list. Now he runs his own mercenary group, turned heroes going by the name the Expendables; (yea you heard it right),hence the name, always causing some major trouble for them selves everywhere they go. Usually because of some huge explosion they caused in some small town chasing after the bad guys or doing things like pissing off would be tyrants that ended doing anything just to see McClain and his boy's heads on a platter. Hero-types, this world definitely needs them, but that ain't me, money suits me just fine, and this time, if I did fall for his goody too-shoes do-gooder routine; it was going too cost him.

'Same old McClain…still playing hero.'

'What? And come back to all this fun?' he says as he motions towards the fight behind him which has turn for the worse now. Cass, Nails and D had gotten into the mix, and are putting the hammer down on a few green horns that had no idea who they are messing with, though unfortunately the more damage they did to the place, the more creds I wasn't going to be leaving with.

Spike on the other hand, was now on stage dancing and singing with the showgirls like nothing is going on. The band is still playing but nobody's listening as the fight has consume most of the saloon by now.

'Now I know that I ain't going to like the answer, but what exactly are you after McClain?'

'Word is a group of CS eggheads secretly got their hands on some Pre-Rifts super solider formula that would make a Juicer look like a child going up against a demi-god. They're buried deep in some high tech facility just a few miles south in the mountains from Lone Star. If the CS have, or is close to developing a new formula for ultimate killing machines, then something has to be done before the CS war machine starts rolling out Super Dead Boys on the assembly line.'

'Uh-huh, and you can't allow that to happen right?'

'None of us can…or should. Tolken was bad enough, but you and I know that better than most don't we?'

Just like McClain to bring up old times, and try to tug at your heart strings.

'And just what did you have in mind in getting past the Skullies security systems? There're near damn unbreakable; especially when you're going in blind.'

'That's why I got you some help with that.'

'And that is?'

'Couple of guys, an Operator named Jinx who knows the layout, and has first hand knowledge of the facility.'

'Jinx? You got be kidding me…Continue.'

'He used to work for them.' he says with a slight laugh.

'Nothing like biting the hand that feeds you I suppose. But I'm sure that you didn't play a part in changing his mind about the CS huh?'

'Well you could say that he saw the light as it were.'

'Right. And the other?'

'The other is his bodyguard goes by the name Knuckles…he's umm… a juicer.', and as he finishes with those two words, the thought of having a supped up death defying lone cowboy in my midst made me slam my mug upon the table, and want to shoot McClain then and there.

'Terrific!'

'Sorry, they were a packaged deal.'

'So what, you boys too good for this? I mean must be a real threat if it's legit to a lot of innocent people', I say that to get a rouse out of Dex with devious grin. I have always said that being too upright is something that can get you killed.

Max, catching my hidden meaning gives Dex a quick glance, as Dex's expression has change from that of non-interest to telling me off with his eyes. Max then chuckles and continues on.

'No, unfortunately we have other prior engagements, ones that will be taking us on a little road trip to Mexico.'

'Heh, Heh. Sucks to be you. Now you know McClain, its going to cost ya. Gonna cost ya double.'

'For this info, I'll be paying you triple.'

He finishes as he drops a bag full of cred-cards on the table.

'And up front.'

Like I said, sliver tongue devil…