Unknown-nin345: Greetings Freelancers and welcome to my fic. In celebration of Anthem dropping soon, I decided to get this little fic started up, hopefully I'll make it something cool and large to be worthy of Bioware's image. On to the disclaimers!

Disclaimer: I don't own Anthem, the game is owned by Bioware and whoever is helping them publish it, but we don't talk about those people.

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It started as it always did: a plunge into the unknown. The swirling maelstrom of chaos and danger loomed ahead, beckoning those brave and foolhardy enough to enter. Bolts of supercharged lightning danced across the surface of enormous storm of energy in what should have been a beautiful display of power, but the sight of roiling clouds and arcs of unnatural electricity would only fill one with a sense of dread.

And yet, here he stood. He knew others were there as well, but their voices were pretty much a white noise at this point and barely discernible from the storm ahead. Vaguely he could hear and see the engines of their Javelins flaring to life as they all took their steps into the abyss, none of them aware at all of the absolute mayhem awaiting inside the storm of chaos. The metallic footsteps of his Javelin echoed inside his head as he approached the personification of chaos in front of him before he took to the air as well, soaring forward into a course of events no one could have prepared for.

Next came the fire…and the screams. The anguish, the fear, the anger, and the desperation. Explosions rocked the landscape and shook him down to his bones inside his suit of steel and circuits. Creatures of all kinds attacked them, gore spraying from the bodies of some while splashes of elements erupted from others in a colossal cacophony of bullet fire, rockets, and elemental attacks.

It wasn't enough.

Slowly, reports came in. Freelancer after freelancer were being listed as killed in action, others were retreating out of the chaos in an effort to survive. And then there were those who pushed forward still, hoping that their teamwork and firepower could lead them to success.

It wasn't enough.

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A loud, methodical beeping echoed in the small metal room. Bleary eyes blinked open and searched around before closing as recognition set in. Slowly the owner of said eyes sat up in the uncomfortable bed, legs swinging over the side as he rubbed the beginning stubble growth of a beard while his brain went through the process of waking from the realm of dreams. Another shake of his head allowed him to realize that the small device on the small table next to the head of his bed was making the infernal noise that had awoken him.

A low groan escaped his lips as he leaned over and grabbed the still beeping communication headset, a quick fiddling had it set in his ear as he tapped a small button on its side. "Mercer," he spoke shortly, inviting whoever it was who had called to state why they were waking him so blasted early.

"Always the morning person, aren't you Jakub?" came the greeting in the cultured tone that belonged to a man he both respected and couldn't stand.

"Amacaeus," Jakub Mercer greeted back, sitting upright on his bed while pulling a datapad closer to look over reports that came in from other freelancer groups over the night. "To what do I owe the pleasure of you waking me at this ungodly hour?"

An amused snort came over the earpiece before the other man began speaking, "Several hours ago, the Sentinels repelled an attack from a rather sizable group of Scar. No casualties luckily, but an investigation was launched to discover just how so many Scar got close enough to The Wall to attack it in the first place. It was discovered that a Sentinel had abandoned their post."

Jakub blinked in surprise at that bit of information before returning his gaze to the reports, taking in the details as he replied, "Surprising. But I'm not sure why you're contacting me. Freelancers aren't supposed to get involved in Sentinel business." The ragged man chuckled humorlessly. "I'm sure they're having a grand ol' time searching for this deserter."

Silence stretched on for a couple seconds following his remark to such an extent that Jakub thought the call had been canceled before Amacaeus' voice came back over the device, sounding worn down as if the man was a senior citizen and not a spry man in his late 20s. "It's Seneca. She's missing."

Jakub froze, the datapad clattering as it hit the floor once he slack fingers dropped it. Immediately the man stood up and strode forward with determination almost making his green eyes glow with its intensity. In front of him waited his suit: a Ranger Javelin with a base paint of a dull white color with blur armor attachments and silver highlights.

"I'm on my way."