Prelude
By 13sparx13
An account of a major incedent in the life of Urea Phyk, Mercenary
Inspired by the forum roleplay The Skytower Rebellion, which can be found on the recently reinstated Roleplayer's Guild website.
I'm gonna want feedback, if anyone cares.
⌠File r82ol, Category: Classify L2, File Author: Felik Guide⌡
[Shantytown "Eadum"]
The travelers came at about noon, hoisting guns over their shoulders. They had some as ancient as YK-7 rifles, which fired a prototype bullet- prototype ages ago, that was- which was designed to actually have the power to go long ranges, but still lodge into the victim's body at just the right depth, to GN7X shotguns, which most knew nothing about. Needless to say, everything about this troupe radiated mercenary, from their glares to the way that they seemed to judge how quickly they could bring their gun down and blast you to bleeding pieces.
"'Ey!" one yelled, "We're lookin' for a fit little jaser to take us through this blasted desert. Who wants to make an easy buck, eh?" Scanning the crowd, the heavy man came to look directly at one boy. That one boy was Urea Phyk. "You there!" The crowd quieted down immediately. Urea, slightly dazed, slowly pointed to himself. The mercenary rolled his eyes and sighed, seeming to have experienced this exact scenario before, if not quite a few times. "What do ya think, ya little hasp? Now get yer horrible excuse for a body over 'ere!" Urea complied silently. "Follow me. I need a frakkin' drink."
[Shawn's Watch, Eadum]
"Alright kid," the mercenary said, slamming his beer back onto the bar. "Here's the straight hasp. We need ta get through this frakken' desert now. And I betcha know which way it is to Babylon, dontcha, kid." Urea nodded slowly, judging the man's group. "Ah. Lookin' at my men, ta see if ya could escape, maybe? Well ya can't. Gyr here-" he gestured at a youngish man to his right, "He can catch ya no matter how fast you can run. And since I've started, they're Geoff and Brianna. Sniper and tekkie. An' I'm the lead man here, Ares." While he was speaking, a man and a woman, obviously siblings by their orange hair- barely recognizable, though, through the sand in it- looked up in recognition, then went back to their drinks. "Now who are you? Don't be shy. We won't hurt you. Well, we might hurt you if you try anything."
"U-Urea. Urea Phyk. But people call me Re," he said nervously.
"Well, Urea, it's about time we frakking left. It's gettin' dark already."
[Desert, ~500 metres from Eadum]
Re wiped the sand from his arms for the umpteenth time. The sandstorm had whipped up a couple hours ago, and didn't seem to have an end. "Ares," he called- earning a few grains of sand in his mouth for the action- "We need to set up frakking camp soon!" The man replied by slinging his bag off his shoulder and reaching in for a tent, the others following suit. Re, caught off guard by the sandstorm when he was turned around, fell over, and clambered back up, swearing. "Here, kid," the heavy mercenary muttered, handing him a pistol. "In case we somehow get attacked and don't wake up." Urea examined the gun then said increduously, "A frakkin' Falcon? This lump has to be decades old!" Ares looked him in the eye. "Yeah, and betrayal is older. Get to yer tent. With Bri. You two are small enough to fit in the same one."
When they were in their tents, Brianna said, "Don't mind the boss." Re hm?ed in response. "He's been through some things that most people would probably rather burn in Hell than go through." Then she was silent, leaving him alone with the statment and the wind's muted roar.
[Outside Babylon Biosphere]
"Here we are, kid." The transparent biosphere loomed above them, vortexes of more concetrated energy spinning across their field of view. "C'mon. Yrion's waited long enough." They walked through the energy field, receiving a tingle along their spines and a rush of cool- freezing relative to the desert- air. They wove through the city streets, getting glares, but no more. No one wanted to get into a five to one fight with people who were armed to their teeth- no, farther; their frakking veins- or at least, four and some half-starved kid. Or just the four, really. Soon, they were at the employer's building, tall, with the windows all closed off by something or other. Brick, steel. All worked just as well.
They stepped inside, and Ares looked at the clerk and announced, "Ares to see Yrion." The clerk nodded and tapped something into a terminal, and a door slid open. It was all surprisingly manual. They stepped inside, the door closing behind them, and waited as an ancient pulley system brought them to another floor of the building and slid the door open again. They strode out through the door into a room that was the complete opposite of what they'd seen. Maps, charts, and weapons were strewn about the room, but they were all state of the art, unlike the rickety lift and aging reception room.
In the middle of all this stood a woman, examining the information, tossing some aside, keeping other holograms within arm's reach. Yrion, Re assumed. When she heard the group's footsteps, she didn't turn. "Who's the fifth?" She inquired. "Desert guide. Figured you'd be the authority on how 'e got paid." She nodded, long black hair ascending, then descending, and turned around, judging Urea with piercing blue eyes. "How 'bout this: Triple or current pay. Triple entails an extra task, though."
"Like what?" Re ventured.
"Kill a guy. Take it or not?"
"Sure," Re answered, shrugging. "Tell me more about this guy."
The ends of her mouth curling up, she selected a few holograms and moved them to Re. He examined them, not quite able to take it all in. There were schedules- the target's routine, he had to assume- lists of guards and the like, and a short bio of the target:
}Klein Walken
}Weapons Engineer, BESC
}Age: 167
}Kill Priority: [Theta]
Other information included a short history, but what caught Re's eye was a hologram of the man. He was tall, and seemed to have been caught mid-nervous-glance. His brown hair was swept in all directions by wind. In his hand was a black case, and he held his other hand close to something on his belt. Re looked back up at Yrion. "Where do I need to be?"
[BESC Building #85:4, Eastern Babylon]
His fingers drummed silently on the grip of the FL-9 blaster. Any second, now. Any second, and the man would be out here. And give another second, and the gun would be off his belt and sending high-frequency waves of gamma radiation into the chamber of the gun, energizing a lone electron. The electron would then fire out of the barrel, literally burning the atmosphere as it went on its trajectory towards the head of Klein Walken at one hundred metres per second. The energy given off by this lone particle would scramble the arrangement of the subatomic particles in the man's head. Which it did. Walken was unconcious immediately after the shot, dead seconds later. The man's guards didn't care. They had a job to do: Kill the entity that held the gun. It didn't matter who it was. AI, Tindrel, BESC, Templar. They were guilty, and the dead man was their evidence. Yrion was relying on this, Urea realized. She didn't want to pay him. She was in for one big surprise, the frakking jaser.He wouldn't hold it against her, though. Triple his original pay certainly screamed the risk.
He picked up a chunk of debreis and tossed it away, creating an intentionally obvious noise, then ran perpendicular from the line created with his original postion and the brick's location of impact. They were sure to assume that he would run in the opposite direction of the throw, which would be easily recognizable by the outward pattern that the object shattered in. Ridiculously obvious strategy, but nobody had seemed to think of it before. He ran to a designated location after a few minutes of random weaving, which held, to his great relief, an annoyed looking driver who recognized him immediately and opened the door, allowing him only a moment, before the vehicle sped off, to get in.
[Yrion's base, Babylon (Exact Location Classified)]
"So. You did it. And lived. I'm rather impressed. Here's the cash. Say," Yrion said, pausing to think a moment, "Why don't you work for me full time. I was watching the whole thing, and I have to say: I don't have anyone with your combined resourcefulness and size. Or do you have family or something back home?" The near sentiment surprised Urea. She'd always seemed to be nothing but a cold, calculating kingpin- In the hour or so he'd spent in her prescence, at least- and he had no idea she might actually have emotions. "No, ma'am. I don't have any family. So why not?"
[Decades Later, Babylon]
"I'll take this," the tall man said, laying a currently disabled pistol on the counter. The clerk looked up with a smirk. "A frakking Falcon Wing? You tryna kill yerself? You should get a P-6 or something, if ya need cheap, but not a FL-9. This thing only does seven fifty vecs, for goodness sake." Re looked him in the eye. "I know what I'm doing. Heard the name Urea Phyk before?" The man's eyes widened in recognition. "Yeah. I know what the frak I'm doin'. Just scan my chip already." He pulled out a credit chip and threw it down on the counter. "I've got a marrige to arrange. For a friend. His name's Death."