Prologue

. . .

Bee Cave, Texas, 1978

The ringing came before the tingling – as it always did.

The evening sun beat down upon his aching back through the one tiny window of his garage. The ever aging Texan rolled his shoulder blades and groaned at the dragged out crack that followed, he'd spent so many years hunched over his tools and plans like this that he was genuinely surprised that his back hadn't just given out completely. Then again, there was still time for that. This ringing in his ears was a more recent ailment that begun to plague him and it was almost always followed by an unpleasant but not entirely painful sensation that ran up his right arm and skittered down his spine, like a spider whose legs were replaced with needles. Maybe he was just getting too old for this? After all, he'd been an engineer for over thirty years.

The Reliable Excavation and Demolition company that he had once worked for, and their rivals the Builders League United, had both disbanded in June of '73, exactly five years after first hiring their respective mercenary groups – or the REDs and BLUS as they were known then. The Engineer himself hadn't seen any of his old teammates, or old enemies for that matter, since that last day.

And so here he was; turning fifty in just a couple of years and he'd already made enough money to set himself up for life. Surely this was a good thing. Surely?

Heaving a heavy sigh and removing his hardhat, the Engineer wiped the grease from his sweaty forehead with a rag and sat stooped like a much older man. Truth be told, sometimes he missed those days. They had been long and hard – and very, very dangerous – but the good ol' boy had never felt more alive. It was times like this when he found himself wondering if his old team had ever looked back on those days with the same fond nostalgia as he did now.

Swigging from a nearly finished, sun-warmed beer the stocky man pushed his goggles up onto his shaven head and stared at the scribbled plans before him with a blank expression, occasionally giving the odd coffee ring a disapproving glower. Microwaves. He'd gone from building the most technologically advanced and deadly weapons of modern war that could mow down hoards of soldiers and robots – to building a new microwave for ol' lady Langden down in the market place. He heaved another defeated sigh. Well, at least he'd get some of her freshly baked cornbread for this.

Hauling himself up from his work bench with more effort than a man of forty-eight should have required, he placed his helmet and goggles on top of the messy blueprints before finishing his beer and heading outside to feel the breeze on his face. He really needed to clear his head before his thoughts ran away with his senses. Damn his arm was giving him bother today.

"Well would'ya look at that, the ol' recluse emerges." A pair of arms wrapped around the Engineers waist, which itself was getting a little bigger by the day due to his lack of exercise (though he was hesitant to admit that) A kiss was gently planted onto his stubbly cheek, leaving behind a cherry lipstick smudge.

"Sorry darlin." He turned his head to return his wives peck. "Jus' been rustlin' up that microwave for Mrs Landgen."

"The poor ol' dear hasn't been the same since Harry left …." Creases spread across his wives forehead in concern. Arleen was always worrying about others before herself; it was a quality that her husband found very endearing. The Engineer rotated to wrap his wife in an embrace, smelling her hair as if it where his life source and smiling when his nose detected her Hawaiian coconut shampoo. That was her favourite scent. Arleen was a short, dumpy woman a few years younger than her husband and she was sweeter than candy with a heart made of honey – The Engineer had fallen for her the very day they'd met.

RED had just disbanded and he'd returned to his tiny hometown for the first time in years. Arleen was working as a waitress in a bar over by the old bakery that he'd been fond of as a young boy, which was sadly no longer in business. Theirs wasn't a Hollywood romance by any means. They were both in their forties and the Engineer was a little worse for wear as a result from his days as a mercenary, Arleen herself was slightly over-weight and over-worked but by the end of her shift, she was convinced that this soft-spoken man who'd toddled back into town was her soul-mate. That night she invited him back to her small, musky apartment and they'd made love like a pair of randy teenagers – the Engineer had barely noticed how much he'd missed the fairer sex during his employment with RED until that night. And boy had he missed it.

They were married and living together within the year, and neither of them had ever been happier. These thoughts went through the Engineers mind as his wife pulled back from his hug and looked up at him, her hazel eyes framed with the signs of age.

"Ah know how you don't like t'be disturbed while you're workin' hon, but there's a young man on the phone who insists he needs to talk to ya."

"Oh?"

"Sounds awful urgent." She took him by the hand and gently led him into the house as he hummed and rubbed his stubbly chin, muttering under his breath about being tired of people wanting help with this and needing advice with that. He was retired dammnit. Inside their humble farmhouse, the engineer strolled over to the small, cream coloured phone and lifted it to his ear as his wife stood leaning against the door frame with a concerned expression, wringing her hands in her stained apron.

"Hello? .… your talkin' to him …. uh huh …. oh …. I see .… tomorrow? Yeah .… yeah that's fine .… alright, thank you kindly…"

Slowly, he placed the phone back down and stared at it quietly for a few moments until his wife appeared at his side, a warm hand clasping his shoulder delicately. She could sense his disturbance without even seeing his face.

"Everythin' alright?"

"Yeah." Though he shook his head slightly, as if to clear it. "Well, one of the boys I used to work with has died."

"Oh, hon …" she squeezed his shoulder tightly, bringing up her other hand to pat his back affectionately.

"S'alright I just-" he paused, thinking. "I need to make a few phone calls."

. . .