-Chapter 13-
1620 Hours New Carthage - Eastern Standard Time
11 May 2550 (Military Calendar)/
Alcaues Lycurgus System, Pilvros City, planet New Carthage
East Pilvros City
Mago hadn't been on New Carthage in quite a while.
His transport shuttle across the planet had been a long, sightseeing ride. Several hours ago, the shuttle had arrived at a mountainous location in the Wetworks. Mago's temporary partner in crime, Jain Zarr, had gotten off the shuttle back there. Whenever Mago did make the trip back to Carthage, Jain usually accompanied him.
After the Wetworks, the shuttle had cut across the Southwestern Ice Shelf. Most of the sightseeing to be done there consisted of looking at gigantic ice glaciers, frozen lakes and tundras, and snow-covered plains. Far as Mago knew, there weren't any populations that lived down there.
It was only then that the shuttle made it to the notorious Pilvros City.
Even though he was rarely home, he knew the city like the back of his hand. After making a few circles at low altitude, the shuttle touched down at the Eastside Airport. Engines hissed as exterior vents cycled to keep the ship cool while on the planet's surface. There was a low, metallic groan when the landing clamps hit the aeropad. A resounding thump went through the shuttle, and it signified that everyone could depart.
Mago grabbed his two bags - a duffel bag and a backpack - and slowly shuffled his way off the shuttle, caught up in a tide of other passengers disembarking the ship. Thankfully, his arm had healed enough to where he could put it to use, so he slung his duffel over his left shoulder. Outside the shuttle, there was a light rain casting everything in a misty glow. Although it was midday, the sky looked grey enough to where it could pass as evening time. Being in the eastern heart of Pilvros, highrise buildings and structures could be seen all around.
Prior to his arrival, he'd tried to contact his mom to see if she could pick him up. For whatever reason, she hadn't ever responded. No matter - Mago was fine with walking. His mom's new home wasn't too far away.
Settling in for the walk, Mago spent most of the time thinking about the War. More specifically, what role he'd play in it's upcoming days.
Operation HELLZONE would be a cooperative task-force assignment linking together elements of the 34th Jump-Jet Legion, 2nd Bat, and the Ninth Fleet under Admiral Shepard - who seemed to be in high demand these days.
Most interestingly was the last mentioned unit: a team of 'SPARTAN-III Operators'. Mago had been hearing a plethora of rumors surrounding the Spartans for years now. They were supersoldiers, and were capable of pulling off the impossible. Whatever the case was, Mago was glad that they'd be a part of the operation. According to the actual details, HELLZONE would be a series of assaults, hit-and-runs, and scorched earth missions on a string of different targets. The success of one assault would provide the green light to continue the operation forward, until the task force ran out of resources or targets - whichever happened first. Most of the attacks were going to be against the Covenant, serving as a method to pave the way forward for some crucial, unnamed future operation that nobody was talking about yet. The UNSC wanted the Covenant to be on high stress when it came to their own logistical strength, and if HELLZONE was successful, they'd deal critical blows to the Covenant's offensive capabilities heading into the 2550s. A strong success would be a great way to springboard into the decade. From what Mago knew, HELLZONE would be the most aggressive UNSC military action in the War so far.
The operation's main focus was on the Covenant, but there were a few pending rebel targets, including an assault on Gao - an isolationist world that wielded great influence in the frontier zones. They had been bolstering their defenses for the last few months in response to the ever-encroaching Covenant invasion route, though, and so the UNSC was expecting heavy resistance. Yet despite that, the intel documents suggested a quick mop up would be in order due to 'planned assassinations of strategical Gao targets'.
He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Mago felt that something big was getting ready to happen soon. Things were simply growing a little too quiet out on the frontline. Macrag, as deadly as it'd been, was a relatively small-scale battle at the end of the day. The fight hadn't been a fully-fledged Covenant attack. And the URF had gone relatively quiet themselves. NAVSPECWEP was busy sitting on their thumbs, trying to predict where the next major Covenant invasion force would attack. It was a grand strategy that the UNSC was beginning to adopt by this point in the war - instead of spending resources for minor offensive gains, the goal was to bolster forces at various fortress worlds like Hatchid, Fumirole, Concord and Reach. Some said that it was a losing strategy, but others said that the biggest chance to deliver a major Covenant setback was to beat them in a decisive conflict; one where the UNSC had few chips on the table, and where the Covenant had plenty.
In theory, this is what HELLZONE was supposed to set up, from what Mago could tell. The UNSC was trying to goad the Covenant into making reckless mistakes with an undermined military. Force them into exposing something critical to their infrastructure - like one of their so-called Prophets, so that the UNSC could take it out.
All wars had different phases. It was possible that this war was getting ready to enter into its final phase.
As an ODST, Mago was privy to certain militaristic and wartime information that others didn't know about. Classified material that couldn't be talked about. He assumed that the Spartans were a part of that equation, but apparently, confirmation of their existence was classified above his pay grade. He'd only just been given confirmation of their existence due to Operation: HELLZONE.
After rounding a long curve in the road, Mago headed down a long road ending in a local neighborhood park. Nice houses sat on either side of the road, their lawns in various states of appearance. The neighborhood was a marked step up from the slummy apartments mom used to stay in. Still, a lot of work could stand to be done. Mago spotted several different issues that he could fix if he had the time and inclination.
Given that it was around midday, Mago didn't expect her to be home; in fact, most of the houses on the block seemed to be empty and quiet for the time being. And Raeia was still offworld, on her orientation visit to Luna in the Sol system. Still, Mago had a keycard that'd unlock the door just in case. When he headed up the driveway, he noticed her car was parked in the open garage.
Guess she didn't go to work today. Or something.
He knocked on the door, but there was no answer after 30 seconds. He tried again. This time, he put his ear up to the door, but couldn't hear a thing. He tried the doorknob, but it was locked. Sighing, Mago unslung his duffel and dug around inside it for his personal ID card. When he found it, he checked to make sure that the scanning strip was clean before unlocking the door.
The first thing he noticed upon entering was how dark it was. Given all the raining and the grey clouds, Mago expected mom to have at least put on a light or two. After that, the next thing he noticed was how quiet it was. Maybe she was asleep.
"Mom!" he called out, letting his bags drop to the floor as he walked into the living room. There was no answer. "Rae!? Raeiana!"
Mago checked the kitchen and the first floor, but didn't find anything. Just a few pieces of fruit sitting in a dish, from which he took a handful of grapes and ate. Then he headed upstairs, and that was when he started to notice that things were off. The second floor looked rough - furniture broken and strewn about, and glass covering the floor. In spite of himself, Mago couldn't help the small surge of adrenaline that shot through his veins. A momentary flashback played through his mind, and he ran a hand through his short hair as he headed towards the bedroom, trying to calm his nerves. Jesucristo. He'd assumed that crime wasn't a thing in this part of Pilvros.
The door was open to the bedroom, but there wasn't anyone inside. Slowly, he walked into the room, eyes scanning around in the dark. He tried the lights but they didn't work. Instead of finding his mom, he found a shattered window, and signs of what looked like a struggle. A burglar, and it seemed recent.
Then, he heard a quick shuffle of footsteps to his rear. Instinctively, he turned - just in time to see a dark, shadowy figure fire something at him. A tight wire wrapped itself around his legs, and two small darts pierced his chest. A split second later, his entire torso lit up in pain as electricity shot through him. The pain was blinding and it knocked the sense out of Mago. He collapsed to the ground, and it was only then that his training kicked in. In a flash, he tore the stun darts from his chest and rolled across the floor, moving out of sight behind the queen-sized bed.
With the line of sight broken, he quickly reached for his switchblade; with brute force, he seared through the wiring around his legs.
On his feet in a moment, his assailant moved into the room at a lightning pace, firing another shot at Mago. This time, he was prepared - or so he thought. Even though he'd pried off the first set of stun darts, his movements felt sluggish and wild. He ducked, managing to evade one of the darts, but the other one sunk into his left shoulder, sending him to one knee. He immediately snatched it away, then clumsily dived at the floor toward his attacker, wrapping his arms around a single leg and pulling.
There was an oof - and Mago realized that he was fighting a woman as she fell. He analyzed that fact and filed it away, deciding to strategize with the heuristic assumption that he could overpower her through strength. He needed to close the distance. But when she fell, it brought down a tall lampstand alongside her. The lamp hit the floor hard and broke into pieces; at the same time, the burglar kicked out hard, grazing Mago's head with just enough force to slacken his grip. She rolled backward across the floor before he could stab her with his switchblade, and came up with her own blade in hand. Mago then analyzed another fact; this woman was no average burglar. She was skilled and prepared, which was strange in and of itself. He wouldn't be able to simply overpower her.
Mago got to his own feet too slowly, but luckily, she didn't press him. Instead of lunging toward her, Mago crouched his knees and stalked towards her slowly.
A hand-to-hand fight was something Mago wasn't keen on getting involved in - not with his body in the shape it was. Unfortunately, he'd left his personal M6 handgun in his bag downstairs. His options were limited. All he had was his blade, and he wasn't comfortable with it, truth be told.
She slowly backed away as he crept forward, their motions a direct match. She went out into the hall, Mago followed. There was a brief moment of stillness as they faced each other in a dark, quiet staredown. Her face was hidden behind a scarf, revealing nothing but a pair of steely eyes. Just as he was gearing up to rush her, she charged him instead. Mago was caught off guard by her sudden change. His mind registered it easily enough, but he couldn't get his body to move like he wanted to. Her blade flashed in the dim light, and a tear opened up on Mago's sleeve. Fresh blood came out of the wound. She stepped in close to him and swung her blade back in the opposite direction. Mago leaned away from it, but not fast enough; blood seeped from a cut along his cheek. Before she cut him again, he grabbed hold of her arm and then rammed into her, driving them both back until they crashed into the wall.
They tussled for several seconds, and Mago lost his grip on his knife. It skittered across the floor as they grappled with one another. Mago threw a solid headbutt that snapped her skull back, and it gave a satisfying thud as it pounded up against the wall. With her stunned for the moment, he let go of her weapon hand to drive a vicious, well-practiced uppercut to her midsection. Then he swatted aside her blade before clamping his hands around her neck, driving them both to the ground.
She landed beneath him, and he refused to relent, staring her down coldly as he choked the life out of her.
That is, until he felt his muscles begin to go numb. Black dots formed on the periphery of his vision, and he felt a tingling sensation run through his head and down into his core. His grip slackened on his attacker, and his mind went frantic with trying to figure out what was going on.
Poison. She poisoned me. Her darts must be coated in it! After a few more seconds, he slumped to the floor next to her, his vision going black.
The sound of engines heralded his next moment of consciousness. Mago felt sore all over his body, and his mouth was dry as burnt parchment. He felt too tired to even open his eyes, and his only perception of his surroundings came in the sense of feeling and hearing. Wherever he was, it felt cold, hard and metallic. And it smelled like stale air. Given the sound of engines he'd heard, Mago thought that he was probably in a bulkhead of a ship or something. He couldn't remember anything. And at any rate, his body felt deprived of all energy. The only thing he could do was fall back into another deep comatose state.
Mago woke up again.
This time, he jumped out of his slumber in fear, letting out a brief shout of imaginary pain. He'd had a brutal nightmare. His eyes scanned about, but the first thing he noticed was the room - or rather, the jail he was in. Or something. The room was like a cell, with hard iron bars separating him from a single door on the far side. Overhead lamps bathed him in light. Then he noticed that his attire seemed to be the same from what he'd been wearing back when...
Memories came crashing back down on his psyche. He remembered every detail of what'd happened, from his first steps back in Pilvros city to his encounter with his attacker. She'd been lying in wait for him, prepared and ready to put him down at a moment's notice. Whoever the lady was, she hadn't been there for a simple robbery. That much was plainly obvious. Especially given his current predicament. For some reason, he was still alive - which meant that his ambusher had something planned for him. But what, and why?
"I see ya made it back to the world of tha living," a slightly muffled voice said. Mago looked to his right to see a face looking in on him from beyond a window running along the wall in his cell. He'd never seen the man before, but it was clear that the guy was also trapped behind his own set of bars.
"Who are you?" Mago asked. His voice sounded as rough as the other man's did.
"Name's Key. Key Stokely. I'm an STA."
This man, Key, was a Special Tasks Agent? Things had just gone from strange to insane. Mago had never met an STA before.
"I'm -"
Key put up a hand to the glass window. "I know who you are."
"Where are we? What are we doing here?"
Mago listened attentively as Key explained as much as he could about the situation. The more Mago listened, the angrier he got. And his confusion just grew exponentially. The whole thing sounded unreal.
"That's all I got, ya know'm saying?" Key finished.
Apparently, Mago had been out of it for almost at least 2 months now, which was hard to wrap his head around. I missed an entire two months. Dios Mio. And his assailant, who went by the name Vexx, was a criminal wanted by none other than ONI themselves. And she'd managed to subvert Key Stokely's acquisition team, which was a remarkable feat. STAs were cream of the crop intelligence agents, from what Mago knew. They were like inquisitors, capable of administering UNSC punishment on criminals both civilian and in the military. STA cells had been known to bring down even the most influential crime syndicates both within and without the UNSC itself. And yet, everything about Key's story sounded almost unbelievable, but obviously, there was truth to it. And Key had no reason to lie - he was in the same boat Mago was in. Along with, apparently, a number of other prisoners. That much implied that the ship was pretty large, if it could contain enough space to seal away over a dozen individuals. But he'd never heard of this 'Vexx' before, and he couldn't figure out why she would target him.
Unless...
For the next several minutes, Mago sat quietly in the cell, his mind working overtime to derive conclusions and reasons. He talked with Key, trying to glean any valuable info, but there was nothing else to learn from him.
He'd just begun piecing together a coherent puzzle when the access door to his room opened.
In stepped a woman who appeared to be a few years older than Mago. Her black hair was cut in a thick mohawk fade that covered her head. A tattoo pattern was on her cheeks and forehead, contrasting sharply with her dark olive skin. She stared at Mago with fiery hazel eyes, boring into him intensely.
"Finally, you're awake, and just in time. You know, you almost didn't survive that toxin I gave you. I take it Mr. Stokely has explained your situation?" She asked. This woman was certainly Vexx. There was no doubt about it. Her voice was deep and serious, and he could see an underlying lethality in the way she moved. This was the same person he'd fought back on Carthage.
Instead of saying anything, Mago glanced over at the window to Key's cell. Vexx pressed some button connected to a keypad near the door, and a moment later, the glass window to Key's room was sealed off by more metallic wall.
"What did you do with my mother?" he asked, looking back at Vexx. His brow furrowed.
She took several steps forward, until she was standing just on the other side of the cell. "What do you think I did?"
A wave of hatred surged through him, and Mago lunged across the tiny cell. He didn't get far. His muscles were weak from disuse, and he ended up stumbling forward. Nearly falling to his knees, Mago reached out and grabbed hold of the cell bars for support. Then he attempted to stick a hand through to grab Vexx's neck; unfortunately, he couldn't reach her. Even still, Mago growled in his throat like a mad dog. He was losing his cool, badly so.
"I'll end you," he ground out through his teeth.
She stared at him for a moment, as if fascinated. "Relax. She's not dead. Far as I know." Then, she lowered her voice, as if they were speaking to each other in quiet conference. "You, on the other hand... Well, where you're going, you might wish you were dead."
Mago eyed her closely, trying to calm his nerves. It was impossible to think clearly when one was upset, and Mago liked to think clearly.
"I'll fill in the gaps Mr. Stokely left open," she said, taking a step back. "I was offered a hefty payout for your death. He certainly wanted you dead, but... Well, after some re-evaluation, I'd rather you be alive. I could stand to make so much more that way. A lot more. Enough to fuel my... Ambitions."
"Who sent you?" Mago demanded, still gripping the cell bars tightly. "You said 'he'. Tell me who it is."
Vexx smirked at him. "You're a deadly one, you know that? I've read all about you. You're a small-time war hero to the UNSC, and you don't even realize it. A well-crafted machine, almost like you were born for it. You enjoy it, don't you? Killing anything - or anyone - who poses a threat? The UNSC did a good job with you."
Mago didn't know what she was getting at, so he kept quiet and let her continue. The more she talked, the more details Mago had to work with.
"I can see it in your eyes. You're one of a kind - worth at least a dozen ODSTs all by yourself. I can see why he's afraid of you."
A realization pierced the fogginess of Mago's mind. It made sense now. The subterfuge, the kidnapping, the choice of target.
"Slingshot," Mago spat the word out like a curse. "Sleen. The URF lapdog. You're with the insurrectionists. And you're working for that coward."
Almost unnoticeable, a flicker of some indiscernible emotion flashed across her face. Almost like she was offended at his words. As quickly as the look came, it was replaced by her usual steely demeanor.
"I work for myself. And you, are going to work for me," Vexx said calmly. "We will be touching down soon." Then she turned and strode from the room, her boots thumping across the marble floor. Mago watched her as she went, sizing her up.
Blades, knives, and pistols were strapped to holsters all over her waist and legs. Maybe this girl was some sort of bounty hunter. The idea wasn't terribly unusual. Ever since the early 2540s, when the War started to really go south, more and more frontierspeople were scraping out livings as smugglers and bounty hunters. Many of them were ex-militia forces or even ex-UNSC. During times of War, certain businesses thrived, and the business of underworld work was one of them. Anyone doubting the resources of a capable bounty hunter was a fool. And Vexx must be a good one if ONI was looking for her. ONI and STA officers, apparently.
Only then did Mago release his hold on the cell bars. His hands shook, and he closed his eyes as he made for the titanium cot, collapsing onto it as if he'd just ran a few miles. The cot was hard as brick, but Mago had slept on far worse.
And now, he had far worse to deal with.
Mago knew what kind of a man Sleen was, but he'd underestimated the traitor. Mago hadn't expected Sleen to strike back, at least not like this, and that was a mistake that he was presently regretting. He had no real way of knowing if his mom was fine. On top of that, he had no way to know where he was headed. If Vexx was working for Sleen, then by extension, she was working for the URF. But what incentive was there in his capture? The URF didn't take prisoners unless it was someone highly valuable to the UNSC, like generals, admirals, ONI officers and such.
Vexx claimed that she worked for herself. Assuming that was true, then what could she want by keeping Mago alive? Who was willing to pay money for an ODST? The answer was nobody; there was simply nothing to gain from it. Not that he knew of, at least.
Mago looked over at the sealed window into Key's room. He wished he could talk to the man and ask him some more questions.
Warning lights began flashing overhead for a few seconds. A moment later, the ship lurched from side to side. Mago had to sit up and grip his cot tightly to keep from being tossed around. The ship swayed and jerked for the next minute before settling back down. It'd been a long time since Mago had felt an atmospheric entry that rough, and the feeling reminded him of a combat drop - except without the explosions and frantic comm chatter. Even still, goosebumps began creeping along his skin.
Over the next several minutes, Mago could feel the ship change course on occasion. He tried to measure the the course corrections and the time intervals between each, but without knowing what planet he was on, it would be virtually impossible to track the distance covered. All he knew was that they'd traveled a long way from the atmospheric entry point.
There was a hiss and a shudder as the ship hit the ground. Mago stood up and paced around his cell. He glanced over at the sealed window, wondering what Key was thinking. Key might be the only person Mago could count on out here... Wherever here was.
It took all of about thirty seconds before the sound of heavy boots began ranging out from the other side of the room's door. There had to be at least a handful of people, and Mago could hear them shouting and cursing, and what sounded like "Move it!" So, someone was on the ship herding off the prisoners. The moment Mago realized that was the moment the door to his room opened. An armored giant of a man walked in, carrying a heavy machine gun by his side. With a grunt, the massive guard marched over to the cell and slammed the butt of the machine gun on the lock; the force of the blow snapped the lock off. Then the guard raised the machine gun level with Mago's chest.
"Move it," the big guard said, his voice distorted from a helmet modulator.
The guard was a hulking mass of muscle and brute strength, on top of his body armor, with an old-model machine gun to boot. The kind that mutilated bodies. So Mago followed orders. He stepped past at his own pace though, and felt a hard hand shove him in the back to speed it up. The blow felt like he'd been slapped with a mallet, and nearly sent him to the floor.
Out in the hall, Mago got a far better read of his situation. He found himself standing on the left side of a long pair of lines. Everyone appeared disheveled and slightly worn out. Guards, similar in loadout to the one that'd herded Mago, were marching up and down the two lines, inspecting everyone. As long as their machine guns were trained on the line, nobody would even consider trying to make a break for it.
Mago didn't recognize any other faces at all - that is, until he caught a glimpse of curly hair near the front of the line.
Ravenne Casilla? The engineer girl from Despair's Light? Why is she here?
Mago had known Ravenne for several years now. More than just in passing. They had actually gotten close before; particularly close on a couple of occasions. She was a secretive girl with the accent of someone who'd been born in an outer colony. Way back when Mago was still a marine regular, he'd met her onboard the Despair's Light, in the aftermath of his very first engagement with the Covenant. He'd been working on a small scale ship repair and had asked her for help, but she hadn't known much of anything, despite wearing the utilities of a junior-grade engineerswoman. Key Stokely was an STA, and Mago was an ODST. Those were two distinctions that were hard to come by. But a ship repair engineer was as common as they come. Mago had assumed that the Vexx lady was targeting particularly valuable subjects, but much as he hated to admit it - Ravenne wasn't exactly an ideal engineer. Why would she be here? What made Ravenne a candidate for capture? Surely she held nothing of value to someone like Vexx, right?
Before Mago could think about possible answers to those questions, he felt a hand tap him on his shoulder. He turned and saw Key Stokely.
"How ya doin," Key said, stepping in line next to Mago and shaking his hand. They both looked forward as Key talked. "These guards are packin' serious heat. They're not the usual knuckle draggers we get back in UNSC space, so we're prob'ly a long way from home. We gotta keep our heads down until we figure out what we're dealin' with."
"I don't see any insignias," Mago whispered back. "If they're with the URF, then they're not any faction I know of. Could be independent slavers. Could be bounty hunters. Could be religious extremists."
"Whateva the case, we're gonna need to fight our way off this rock. Gonna need a ship. Can you fly?"
"Without an AI? I'm an ODST, not a mathematical physicist," Mago said. Then he added, "Besides, it's like you said - we have to get a grip on the situation, wait for opportunities."
"That could take weeks, duke."
Mago looked down at his boots as a guard paced next to him. The man wasn't as big as the first one Mago had encountered, but he had on even more armor. It wasn't until the guard was well past that Mago glanced over at Key.
"Whatever this is, we're already in it. Doesn't matter how long we lay low, so long as we play it smart. I need you to play it smart."
Key smiled for a brief second. "Ya know, the Agency's always looking for recruits, duke. You'd do good to switch careers if ya ain't tryn' to re-up. Hey, look ahead."
Mago did just that, and saw light spill into the long corridor as a large access hatch opened up at the front of the lines. There were too many heads blocking his view out the ship, but Mago could tell that they were in some industrialized area. Guards began smacking and shoving people along the hall to get them out the ship, so Mago shuffled his way along with everyone else.
A loud voice boomed in over what sounded like a megaphone.
"Welcome to Nihdarra, in-house prisoners. Thus begins the first day of the rest of your lives. Take a good look around you, cause by the end of this day, only a few of you will be alive."
Vexx hadn't been to Nihdarra before. It was the apex predator of the criminal underworld. Not even the URF made it this deep, and most of the UNSC didn't know it existed. ONI did, as Vexx knew from firsthand experience, but they ignored it. They had bigger issues they worried about. Brave, or perhaps foolish, couriers would use Nihdarra as a relay point for some of their longer-range jobs and never be seen again. Mercenaries and mercenary guilds settled their differences here. Smugglers often tried their luck with the cargo here - some of it being contraband goods, and some of it being people. Bounty hunters and underworld assassins came here whenever they needed to make quick bucks, as so many people on the world had prices on their heads. Crime syndicates had power feuds across the planet. But the main draw was the Bloodring.
The Bloodring was a vicious fighting pit that the UEG folk didn't know about. Crime bosses of all stripes came here to bet large sums of credits, exotic items and other valuable loot on the fighting; massive wealth and resources could be gained here that couldn't be easily attained elsewhere. The deadliest and nastiest from across the galaxy were brought here to fight and kill each other in bloodsport, and the business thrived beyond the shadow of the UNSC.
This was the first time Vexx had incentive to come here. Not because she wanted to see what the criminal buzz was about. But because she had her own tools to gain riches with - the STA, of course. But especially so was Mago Rictus. Her encounter with him on New Carthage had been more than she'd bargained for. He'd put up far more of a challenge than the STA. Had she not been able to poison him, he would have choked her to death right there on the floor. Vexx had known what he was like even before that event. But seeing him in person, so close... She'd never sensed anything like it. Even in his small cell back on the ship, Vexx had found him an intimidating figure.
There was no way she'd just kill him off for chump change from someone like Sleen. When Mago had accused her of working for Sleen, the words had struck a bit deeper than they should have. They'd made Vexx feel... Wrong. Coming from someone with his background.
She snuffed those thoughts out as she headed into a tall, thorny shaped building. It's structural design gave a strange shadow across the ground as Nihdarra's star floated above. Dissidents of Nihdarra fanned about throughout and along the streets of Cavern City, and some of them were heading into the same building as her. Most of them were off-worlders. Scum from every unsupervised outer-colony was present. Some of them probably had death warrants in UNSC-space. Some of them probably had credits sitting on their heads. Whatever the case be, it was safe to assume everyone in Cavern was armed and dangerous. Vexx certainly was. After she'd managed to get her belongings back on New Carthage, she'd invested in better gear, and this was where she was bringing it.
With her own armor-suit still needing repairs, she'd been forced to settle on a lighter loadout. A long-sleeve combat shirt, underneath a tight black vest, with black camo pants and a pair of boots. An assortment of knives, handguns, and a few small explosive devices were hidden on her person. So when she approached the main door of the uncanny building, she held her own against the entrance guard.
"No weapons allowed inside, miss. Javier's orders. Hand 'em over, and we'll give them back to you on your way out."
"Your boss - 'Javier' - asked to see me. So you either let me by, with my stuff, or I leave and make a quick call to him to explain why I won't be coming.
Let me be clear: I'm not going anywhere on this rock unarmed."
The guard shuffled on his feet, as if contemplating the situation. In the end, he capitulated, giving a slight nod of his head. Vexx brushed past him and into the building.
Vexx hadn't known what to expect, but it was probably this.
Vicious hound dogs patrolled the floor, their mean gait matched only by their guard handlers. And every guard in the building was armed to the teeth, scanning everything keenly. Local denizens milled about as well, showing off whatever expensive signs of wealth they could to their interlocutors: lavish clothing, fancy jewelry, and so on. Accordingly, envious glares shot all around the massive room. Some of them were probably here for business, while others were here at their own leisure. The decadence was suffocating.
It was a usual precaution for Vexx to try and draw as little attention as possible. But in this place, there was no hope. She could feel the gazes of everyone locking onto her as she marched across the floor. It couldn't be helped in this situation. Vexx was an extremely attractive woman. And her loadout, which she considered a necessary thing given that this was her first time on Nihdarra, only served to make her stand out even more. Their gazes made her eager to leave the lobby. She hated being near others, and even more so, she hated attention.
The elevator to her destination was on the far side of the room, and despite the spacious area, Vexx found everything to be claustrophobic. At the elevator was yet another guard checkpoint, and she had to verify her meeting with Javier through a thick datapad. She breathed a sigh of relief when she got into the elevator, punching the number to the correct floor. The man she was here to see - Javier - was the second-in-command of Sixhield, and for all intents and purposes, he was the face of the shadowy organization. Every credit earned or won on Nihdarra was touched by his hand at some point. And the Bloodring was his creation. The amount of wealth Javier had garnered over the past ten years made Vexx's stash look like pocket change. And Vexx had a lot of money.
Sixhield had gotten its start during the early days of the War, long before the underworld reached its prime. During the 2520s, slipspace engines had been restricted purely to UNSC military vessels following the first contact with the Covenant. Back then, Sixhield had been one of only a few non-UNSC syndicates that'd obtained access to shaw-fujikawa engines. Nobody really knew how they'd gotten them, but that part didn't matter so much as what Sixhield did with the engines. They'd single-handedly established a black market network on the fringes of human space, well out of reach of the UNSC - who was too busy fighting the Covenant anyway. That network had seen massive gains and setbacks over the years, but as it stood now, only a few small players in the underworld could challenge Sixhield's dominance. And only Sixhield could claim ownership of Nihdarra.
There was a satisfying chime as the elevator finally reached top floor.
After taking a moment to check her weapons, Vexx exited the elevator and headed down a spacious hall to the chamber at the end. This was the top floor, and there was noticeably less stragglers here. There were only a few individuals, and they all seemed to be similarly armed and dangerous. Aside from the few she saw, every other presence here was a security guard - all of them suited in old, bulky and durable armor with shotguns and mean glares.
At the entrance to the chamber, a guard ran yet another datapad check on her. Once satisfied, he allowed Vexx to enter.
Javier's chamber was massive and grandiose. Delicate chandeliers hung from the ceiling in intricate patterns. Extravagant carpet spanned the length of the floor. Artistic statues were placed at set intervals and classic paintings covered the walls like picture frames. There was a distinct scent in the air; it reminded Vexx of an outdoors nature park, or something. Similar to the hall, there were few individuals and plenty of guards. Most of the people here were sitting in dark, secluded corners, speaking to each other in quiet conference and lounging like lazy teenagers. And there were slaves, too. Dressed in minimal attire, the slaves were standing quietly off to either side of the room, only moving when someone gave an order. Trafficking had become exceedingly rare by the time of the 2500s, but with the massive surge of lost refugees and migrants in the wake of the War, the vice had regained a small level of prominence. It was seen as a symbol of power to own another human.
The talking and whispering halted when Vexx crossed the room. At its apex, atop a small rise of stairs, sat the kingpin himself. Javier was sitting at what looked like a small dinner table, hunched over the keyboard of a large computer. He was thin, and shaggy hair covered both his face and round head. A pair of large spectacles framed his narrow eyes. Although the room was decorated in extravagant fashion, Javier wore only a long-sleeved white shirt and faded jeans. By his appearance, he seemed far more likely to be an IT technician rather than a dangerous outlaw. But appearances could be deceiving.
Several guards parted way, allowing Vexx to approach him, so she did.
"Javier?"
He held up a hand. "One moment, please. The numbers are all wrong..." his voice trailed off. He had the accent of someone who'd lived their life on Earth rather than the frontier. Then he gestured toward a chair. "Have a seat, please."
With nothing else to do, Vexx sat and waited for what felt like too long. When he finally finished, Javier stretched as if he'd just woken from sleep. Even though Vexx sat several feet away, she could hear the bones popping in his body. It was only then that he finally looked up and acknowledged her.
"Oh, my," he said, looking Vexx over. "Lovely. I don't believe I've had the pleasure, Vexx. I had calculated you to arrive thirty seconds later than when you did." He lifted an eyebrow. "My mistake."
"I've done business with some of your subordinates," she told him. They weren't entirely unfamiliar with one another.
"Yes. You sold us two D-modded T-80 RKD Group railguns, one year ago on the 11th day of October. I noted a 19 point increase in the defense efficacy at our Alpha holding cell, as a direct result of those 2 weapons. My thanks."
"I take it you're satisfied with this last delivery?" She was referring to her haul of captured subjects, from both UNSC and URF circles. She often made use of retrofitted travel barges whenever the need arose. There was always some scumbag pilot for hire. And after getting the ODST and the URF-sleeper, she'd taken an entire month to round up key people before coming to Nihdarra.
"Indeed I am. Twenty seven new arrivals, multiplied by the standard pay applied to each one, nets you 141,750 credits. That number would have been extended by a further amount... But you and I both know why it won't. You've decided to keep three for yourself. Which is why you're here, right now, speaking to me."
"It is," Vexx said, leaning back in her seat. This was probably going to be a long-winded discussion.
Javier spun around in his seat, waving a hand around. "Numbers make this universe operate, Vexx. Everything, everywhere - all that you see - is numbers. It is all quantifiable. The UNSC has a less than 5% chance of surviving its war with the Covenant, and a less than 1% chance of winning it. And when you calculate the various reasons why, the largest one is because the Covenant have far more numbers to throw than the UNSC.
I won't bore you with the details on how I predicted your reason for coming here. But I was able to formulate a set of probabilities as to what could prompt such a visit from the notorious Vexx. I figured that you'd have interest in the Bloodring. Obviously, I can access the details on everyone you brought here. It's nothing to snatch whatever files I need from the relevant databases. Which makes sense, of course, so that I can predict what people's success level will be in the Bloodring. They're mostly the usual raff one would expect. But I noticeably couldn't figure out much on one of your prisoners in particular, so I must assume that this is one you've kept to yourself. Along with another two that both went missing right around the same time as the first. But why?"
Vexx wasn't planning on answering, and Javier apparently wasn't planning on letting her answer. He continued.
"The ones that you wish to throw in the Bloodring. I assume that they have some special qualities that are particularly valuable in this place. Where would you find someone like that? Well, the first answer is the UNSC. And it was about as difficult as a homework assignment for me to hack into the PERSCOMM database. There are dozens of recent MIA; but only a small few happened to personnel that were not on deployment. Among those includes an ODST who was on leave at his homeworld. The same homeworld, I might add, that just so happened to have reported a sighting and skirmish with Vexx herself. The same skirmish that also saw yet another UNSC member vanish, a high-level STA. The percent chance of you getting into a scruff with a Special Tasks Agency team, right before their commander goes missing - on top of this happening around the same time the ODST vanishes - is virtually non-existent. But, it did happen, which means that it was simply not a coincidence. You captured them both.
You've stolen away Staff Sergeant Mago Rictus and ST Agent Key Stokely," Javier finished. He took a long swig of water from a tall glass sitting near his computer. "You probably didn't plan on the Agent, I imagine. If you had, you would have gotten him the moment they ran a security check on your ship at Hija listening station."
"That's right," she told him.
Javier leaned back in his seat, his brow furrowed. "I don't know who your third mark is. That in and of itself suggests it's someone... unremarkable.
Unless I choose not to ignore the recent reports swirling around about insurrectionists and sleeper cell agents and disappearances."
He didn't press for details. Instead, Javier looked back down at his computer. He began typing away for a few moments. While he was doing that, Vexx glanced at the table and spotted several baskets of fruit along it. A lot of it was exotic stuff that she'd never had before. She scanned the nearest basket and finally found an apple, and took it.
"You could have asked," Javier said, still focused on his computer.
"I figured you wouldn't mind."
"Had you been someone without a geometrically perfect face, I would have," Javier said. He wasn't smiling, either. He finished typing whatever he'd been working on and looked up at her, spinning his computer around so she could see the screen. "Alright, Vexx - it's done. The cost of 'upkeep' for those three is 500 per week. Of course, you get the standard rate from whatever they win. And you can always bet extra; from what I know about you, gambling isn't something you shy away from.
Deal?"
Vexx was comfortable with the terms, so she gave a sloppy signature on the screen with her left hand.
"That's it. If I were you, I'd make my way over to Arena 3. That's where new arrivals go. Everybody loves to see a free for all. It's animalistic nature, where the only rule that matters is survival of the fittest."
It was a long time since Jane Shepard had been in the comfort of UNSC space. She had lost track of her timetable a while back, but somewhere around two months had passed since she'd first arrived on Gao. To characterize her experience thus far as stressful was a significant understatement. The Gao Liberation Force - their military arm - was the most powerful political sphere, and they hadn't taken kindly to Jane showing up on the world unannounced as a stowaway. They'd spent over two weeks vetting her, and ultimately, they'd deemed Jane to be not worth the risk. Jane would have died then and there, had it not been for Amanda's endorsement. Amanda held a lot of influence among the GLF; with her blessing, Jane had been allowed to join. Ever since then, Jane spent most of her time trying to maintain a low profile. Her chances to record and journalize her experiences were limited and risky. But whenever some operation - however large or small - came along, she hopped on the opportunity. Of course, it was a new military, with different weapons and equipment. It operated more so like a SWAT than an actual army. But it still felt familiar. And as far as anyone knew, she was full-blooded anti-UEG/UNSC.
"Jane," a voice said from her right. Jane looked up to see Rogelio - a Liberation Force veteran, and her partner for this op - signalling for her to get ready. "You ohkay? We're touching down in 30."
"Yes," she told him with a nod. She stood to her full height within the dark, cramped troopbay of the goosehawk. Goosehawk dropships were practically out of use in the UNSC, but the GLF employed them frequently. They were smaller and more compact than pelicans, designed for carrying up to six troops at max capacity. Either that, or a few crates worth of ammunition and supplies. Where the pelican was large and clumsy, the goosehawk was meant to be precise and nimble.
Rogelio tapped the side of his helmet. "You on the right channel?"
Jane checked her frequency to make sure that it was locked into the encrypted OPCOMM channel. She gave a thumbs up as she made her way across the bay to stand next to him, checking her gun one last time. Her weapon was an MA2B. The rifle design was similar to the more common BR55, but it was designed for use in more urban and CQB environments. And it was used exclusively by the UNSC's various special forces. The fact that the GLF had so many suggested that gun-running in UEG territory was a big part of their normal operations. It was possible that the MA2B Jane was currently holding had been a part of a stockpile that Amanda had tagged for theft. Both Jane and her partner had one.
Even though Rogelio was a several year veteran with the GLF, he was only a year older than Jane. He was one of the few people that Jane had familiarized herself with, as they often worked together in the field.
"This should be a straight up snatch and grab, light resistance at most. Me and you both know how that usually goes, though," he said with a slight smirk. He flipped his helmet around in his hands before putting it on, covering up his scrappy brown hair. Up close, Rogelio's green eyes seemed calm as they gazed into Jane's own, though she knew that he was as anxious as her.
"Let's just hope Ceta team does their job this time."
"I know, right," he said, adjusting a mouthpiece rebreather around his strong chin and jaw. His voice had undergone a slight modulation change.
A few moments later, the bay door opened.
Jane and Rogelio slipped onto the target building in unison underneath the cover of a nighttime sky. Abandoned complexes and buildings covered the surrounding area like a rundown surburbia. Squatter denizens lived in those buildings and in the neighborhood, but there weren't any out at this time of night. A fat and full blue moon loomed overhead like an all-seeing eye. It's unblinking gaze soaked in the quiet noir scene as it unfurled. The scene wouldn't be quiet for long. In due time, a vicious shootout was going to take place.
Their target was O'keele Arbor, the leader of a rogue mercenary guild that was rumored to be working with the Venezian Militia. Over the past few weeks, Jane had gone on a number of ops meant to cripple and destabilize the mercenaries' presence on Gao. This surprise attack should, theoretically, be the nail in the coffin - take O'keele either alive or dead, and eradicate what's left of his guild. It was the culmination of a prolonged miniature campaign against O'keele and his men.
Upon first joining the Gao Liberation Force, Jane had been outright surprised at the level of brutality that went on in their conflicts. Apparently, not all independent-minded territories were friendly with one another these days; open hostility was a real thing. And the GLF was, technically, in an all out war with Venezia for some reason. That was a huge turnaround from the way things had been during the early years of the war, when the URF had been at the height of their power. Back then, the URF had been a sort of coalition of numerous governments and factions under a united flag. Setback after setback had crippled that ideal, however. The Gao Liberation Force was a casualty of time, and had left the URF unofficially in the mid to late 2530s.
The craziness of it all boggled Jane's mind. She couldn't understand how such huge swathes of the outer-colonies could dedicate this much time and energy toward meaningless squabbles to this day. The War had been in full-swing for over 2 decades now; everyone knew what was at stake. The only explanation Jane could think of was that the frontierspeople had already accepted humanity's defeat. They expected Earth to fall, and so they viewed the situation as every-man-for-himself. Scrape out your own society while you can; stock up on as many resources as you can. And hope that the Covenant doesn't find you, or forgets about you.
There was the United Rebel Front. They represented what everyone meant by the term 'insurrectionist' nowadays; essentially, they were the official rebels. Rather than just scrambling for their own identity, they were openly combative. Against the UNSC and Covenant both, although they focused almost exclusively on the UNSC. Technically, with the awkward position the URF held today, they could arguably be considered a third belligerent altogether in the War. Aside from them, there were countless criminal organizations and minor factions and so on that existed on the edge of human space. Some of them, Jane knew about. Others, she didn't. The GLF was just one among many.
The reason why the UNSC continued operations against these factions was two-fold. First, it was to cripple them; weaken their resolve and decrease their willingness to fight back against the UNSC. Simple warfare. Secondly and most importantly, it was to destroy their chains of commands and break their backs. In theory, if the UNSC could break something like the GLF, then Gao and it's 'territories' would be forced to rely on the UNSC. The UNSC could, effectively, swallow their resources for its own use. It was a lot more cost-effective to take control of an entire new fleet than to build one from scratch. The same went for any other weapons, equipment, agricultural fields and so on.
At any rate, Jane had a job to do - much as she despised it.
"Alpha team, be advised," a voice said over OPCOMM. "We're picking up a lot of movement beneath you on the thermals. They're getting ready for you."
"Copy that, Ceta Lead. Bravo team, you in position?" Rogelio replied.
"Affirmative."
With that, Rogelio glanced over at Jane and performed a quick series of hand signals.
Jane felt an adrenaline rush seep into her system. Every single time, it came just before the action started. That one little physiological jumpstart that heralded danger. No matter how many times Jane would ever go into combat, she would always have that spike of energy. Moving quickly, she set her rifle aside to pull out a set of C4 charges. The material that made up the building was some sort of weak concrete; the fact that she could hear footsteps from within suggested that there'd be no need for more than two charges. After a few more seconds, they were both in place. She retreated to a safe distance, her gun in one hand and the detonator in the other. Time seemed to tick by at a snail's pace. There was a brief moment of stillness.
"Bravo team - do it," Rogelio said.
A second later, the sound of a muffled explosion could be heard from far below. There was a slight rumbling along the building as it shuddered from bravo team's explosion. Alarmed shouts could be heard from within the building, along with the sound of footsteps storming along halls and rooms. The situation remained like that. Half a minute had gone by when gunshots began ranging out. And that was the cue that Jane had been waiting for.
With a squeeze of her hand, she detonated the C4.
Rock and debris spewed outward like a miniature volcanic eruption. Dust spread in all directions, coating everything it touched in a messy haze. Huge cracks split across the roof. Fat chunks of debris fell through a 2 meter hole that'd been opened up. Together, Jane and Rogelio stepped over to that hole, their weapons drawn.
Here we go.
As the dust and smoke cleared up, Jane could make out several wounded figures that were sprawled onto the floor. They were covered in slabs of stone and and ash, heavily damaged yet alive, rolling about on the floor in agony. She opened fire with a short series of precision rounds, killing the enemy guards while they were down. After that, Rogelio dropped two flashbangs into the room. Further shouting and cursing could be heard, and someone fired an automatic rifle up at the hole, blowing away bits of concrete and sending Jane reeling back half a step. A distinct weapon discharge could be heard from off in the distance - a sniper round, fired from a hidden position along the rooftops to the east. Roughly a split second later, the automatic gun was silenced, followed by the sound of a limp body hitting the floor.
"Got you covered, Alpha," Ceta team leader said over the COM channel.
The flashbangs detonated with a muffled thhumpp. Rogelio slid into the room immediately, his weapon firing in one direction. Jane bit her lip and hopped in behind him, her own gun trained in the other direction. She spotted a staggering guard near the shattered window, his weapon aimed from the hip in a lazy manner at Jane. With no hesitation, she planted three quick rounds into his chest. The guard stumbled backward and fell over the corpse of another body, the one that'd been blown away by the sniper round.
Ahead of her, a door burst open on her left. A merc stepped through, screaming and wildly firing a machine gun in a sweeping arc. Jane dived to the floor and landed beneath a table. Then she fired, and the merc's legs were torn apart, and he crumpled to the ground like a broken scarecrow. A shot to his unprotected head finished him off.
"We're clear. No sign of O'keele. We're moving down one," Rogelio said from across the room.
Jane rushed to her feet, falling into step behind him as they proceeded to the nearby doorway. Further sounds of intense firefights could be heard below, and occasional sniper rounds could be heard wreaking havoc.
Keeping her gun steady, Jane swept into the dark stairwell beyond. In total, the building was roughly 7 stories high. That meant that, at the maximum, seven floors would need to be cleared. Intel suggested that there should be no more than 20 combatants in the building in total. Assuming the intel was right - which it most likely wasn't - the mercenaries were beginning to run low on numbers. Bravo team was 5 troops strong and would be working their way up from the bottom floor. They would run into the most resistance, but it was resistance they'd have no trouble handling.
Focusing her attention down the stairwell, Jane kept her eyes peeled, searching for any signs of movement. It was a few seconds later when she spotted it - a shadowy figure, dipping into the room right beneath the one that they'd just cleared.
That had to be O'keele.
Rogelio tapped Jane on the shoulder and pushed past her; she followed in his wake, keeping her gun trained just above his shoulder. They hurried down the steps to the next floor, and when they got to that same doorway O'keele had run through, they were stopped in their tracks. A machine gun let loose from within the room, sending a blistering wave of fat slugs into the stairwell. Chunks of sheetrock and plywood were blown away, opening up sizable holes in the walls on either side of the door. It was possible the gunner was using 9.92KBs. Anyone using Killer Bees was either intending to disable a vehicle, or blow up a body. Rogelio blind fired into the room as a response, just before rolling across to the other side of the door. The maneuver barely avoided getting him incapacitated, but it bought enough of a fraction of time for Jane to peek into the room.
She spotted a machine gun sandbag nest posted up on the far side of the room. Next to the machine gunner was a second supporting merc. The thick barrel of the MG swiveled up to meet Jane's face, and she ducked back into cover just in time; she could feel the heat off the rounds.
"Ceta!? Any time, you know?" Rogelio said through the comms.
Several moments later - which was a lifetime in a firefight - a sniper shot reported and the MG fell silent. Instinctively, Jane and Rogelio both swept into the room, with her going low while Rogelio stayed high.
With the second merc reeling in surprise from his comrade's emptied head, Jane was able to fire off a burst from her MA2B. She scored two direct hits - one on his throat and another in his chest, sending the lightly armored man crashing into the back wall. At the same time, another hidden merc charged them from the left side of the doorway. Instantly, Jane rolled forward, not even bothering to try and raise her gun. Rogelio, however, was tackled head on.
Before she could turn to help, Jane spotted O'keele diving through a window, shattering glass and all.
"Go!" Rogelio said with a strained voice. "I g-got this!"
Jane glanced back at him one last time. He was too tangled up with his attacker for her to risk a shot. Shit. So, she followed his suggestion and sprinted toward that same window.
"This is Jane Shepard - I'm in pursuit of the HVT; the target fled out the north side!"
She holstered her MA2B, and when she got to the window, she took a cautious glance down. O'keele was rolling off the dented roof of a car, looking up at her for a moment before sprinting toward an alleyway. Jane bit her lip and leaped out to follow. Her hang time felt far too long for the distance she traveled. When she hit the car, she used her momentum to tuck in her legs and roll off the windshield. The landing still hurt like hell, but Jane was an ODST. Jumping was her go-to strategy.
O'keele ducked into an alley that split between two sets of ruined buildings, and Jane followed, running as fast as she could. He attempted to slow her momentum by firing wild shots from a handgun at random, but Jane knew that her chances of being hit were nil. O'keele was panicking, running, and trying to fire without any semblance of proper balance. All it served to due was slow him down instead.
From memory, Jane knew the layout of the surrounding streets. She'd studied a map of the area during the planning stages for the op, and knew what paths led to where. So instead of just hawking him down, she cut a sharp right and ran down that alley. This wasn't the first time she'd chased something, and it probably wouldn't be the last. On her own for the moment, Jane decided to draw her personal combat knife. It was big, of course, and had a serrated edge that helped with either stabbing or slicing.
For the next several seconds, she pounded down that alley at top speed, coming up on the exit. If her calculations were right...
Just as she exited that alley, O'keele was coming from her left. She collided into him at a full tilt sprint, and they both flew before crashing into the ground. The difference was that Jane had been ready for it. Keeping her wits about her, Jane bounded and rolled - O'keele struggled to get to his feet.
She pressed him as he stood up with his gun in hand, her strides confident. There wasn't an ounce of fear in her body; she'd tangled with creatures 20 times more deadly than O'keele. With a swift kick, she sent the weapon flying out his grip. Then, she spun and delivered a roundhouse kick; her booted foot connected with his head and sent him stumbling off to one direction. Off balance, O'keele desperately swung a wild left hook. The blow was easy to anticipate and duck. When she came up, she brought her knife with her, plunging it right into his shoulder. He screamed in pain, but Jane didn't let up. In one swift motion, she grappled his collar and shoulder, placed one leg behind his, and sent him straight to the ground - hard. Jane kept his arm gripped tightly, rolling him to the ground face first and locking his second arm with the first. Keeping them in place, she produced a set of steel handcuffs and slapped them on. Finally, she let up, breathing heavily.
"Jane checking in here. HVT is secured; I repeat - HVT is secure. Primary goal is a success."
"Copy that, Bravo Two," the goosehawk pilot said over OPCOMM. "Good work out there, girl."