Nomad.

When you hear the thunder…

When the storm comes for you…

Remember me.

'Hmmpth.' Sitting alone at a booth in the second floor back corner of some random nightclub, William Munroewas reading a passage from a novel published by some two-bit author that he had bought from a local second-hand store. In contrast to his unassuming actions, the nightclub was operating as expecting. Many hundreds of people were on the floor jamming out to the music, and a great deal of people yet were binging alcohol and exchanging small talk at the bar. The social side of it wasn't his thing, but drinking was and Munroe was out of the cheap beer that he had gotten from the bar front. Sighing, he shoved a bookmark on his page and hid the book behind his flannel, and stood up to get another drink.

Munroe looked unassuming from a distance. An average male for his demographics at six-foot-two and 80 kilograms, dark brown hair and light stubble made him look like the average Oceanic male. He dressed the part too; baggy jeans, an open-chested flannel and a black t-shirt completed the look. Perhaps his most distinctive feature were his eyes; bright, icy blue.

Munroe made his way to the bar, predictably peppered with males and females, singles and couples of all demographics. Occupying the bar was a gaggle of bartenders and other support staff keeping the alcohol moving forward. Munroe approaches the closest available bartender and pulls out a standard Federation ten-dollar note.

"Hi." Munroe asks politely, slipping forward the note. "Can I grab a tall glass of Jack Daniels and lemonade, please?"

The bartender takes the note and disappears for a second. He returns with an average-size beer glass filled with a shot of Jack Daniel's whisky and lemonade, topped off with a helping of ice cubes.

"All yours, buddy." The bartender tells Munroe. The latter grabs the glass and nods.
"Cheers, mate." Munroe thanks the bartender. As he's turning around he gets bumped by somebody else. A woman, about his age, blonde, brown eyes. The bump is enough to cause Munroe to spill a bit of his drink. Not a lot, but it was still a bit. Mildly annoyed, Munroe looks to the woman who had bumped him. The latter is looking at him in a mix of apathy and amusement.
"Oh fuck me, sorry!" She starts apologising while trying to contain her giggling. She elbows the man behind her. Munroe chuckles a little.

"You're alright, just be a bit more careful." Munroe accepts the apology and moves to return to his booth.
"Will do. Goddamn it Pete-" Whatever the woman is saying, Munroe doesn't get to hear the end of it as he gets further away and the resonant noise within the nightclub drowns out his hearing. Munroe returns to his booth, to find that in the two minutes he had been gone an entire party of six people had occupied it. Sighing in acceptance, Munroe turns around and heads back to the bar front to quietly sip on his glass. Unfortunately it didn't seem like the bar front was any better. An argument was brewing between the lady that had bumped him by accident and a guy that looked like he was accompanying the lady and a four-man group of men. Munroe walked close enough to be able to hear over the rest of the commotion but far enough to not get involved.

'-hey buddy, it was an accident, I didn't see you walk up.' The man with the woman. Pete from what the blondie had been saying before he walked out of earshot.

'Come on dude, it was a new shirt!' One of the randos said exasperatedly. Pete gives the guy a funny look and pulls out a few twenty dollar notes from his jacket. He half-throws them at the guy.

'Get yourself a t-shirt or some shit man, I dunno.' Even from a distance Munroe could tell Pete was annoyed with the gagglefuck of people. One of the men in the back comes out from behind the ringleader and grabs Pete by the collar. In response the woman next to him stands up and punches the aggressive guy in the face. From there it all goes to shit. Pete and the lady stand by each other and start pushing the larger group back. There's a lot of cussing and commotion, drawing the attention of many people around them. One of the bartenders pulls out a radio from under the bar.

'Security, fight on the bar front. Five males, one female-'

'What the fuck is your problem, dude?!' Pete can be heard yelling above the noise. He body slams one of the more frail looking opponents onto the deck, concussing him. Next to him, the woman kicked her own assailant in the testicles, dropping him. Out of nowhere, a glass is thrown in Munroe's direction, perfectly knocking his drink out of his hand and breaking it on the floor. Munroe looks down with a look of disappointment.

'Aw, come on.' He mutters to himself, shaking his head. Now deprived of alcohol, Munroe continues to watch the fight. It didn't last for much longer. Just as Pete got into a fistfight with the ringleader, an eight-man team of bouncers arrived, all dressed in suits and armed with tasers. One of them bumps past Munroe.

'Sorry, mate.' The bouncer apologies as he moves forward. Tasers are fired indiscriminately into the fight circle, incapacitating all six beligerants. Pete in particular takes three individual tasers to the chest before dropping with clenched teeth, flopping around like a madman with all the voltage surging through his body. Munroe slips his hands into his jean pockets and watches as the bouncers move forward and restrain both the defenders and the belligerents. The taser prongs get pulled out.

'Ah, fuck me.' The blonde-haired lady muttered. Surrounding the entire event was a massive group of bystanders, many of them with their phones out recording the fight. About the usual for the majority of the population in countries littered around the Periphery. Deciding that he could spend his time elsewhere doing something better, Munroe left the scene and the nightclub. It was freezing outside, snow lining the sidewalks and the road, but that didn't stop the local police force from responding quickly to the disturbance. Two police cruisers and a van were rolled up outside the nightclub and a mix of uniformed and plain-clothes officers were on the way inside to collect their dues. Staying out of their way, Munroe hooks a left and begins the two-kilometre journey to the hotel he was staying at for the time being. The freezing cold didn't affect him too much, but Munroe did button up his flannel as he strolled along. A couple of minutes later, the police convoy drove past him. Munroe noticed that lady and the guy accompanying him sitting in the back seat of the lead vehicle.

A contemplative thought. '...Hmm.'

Hands zip-tied behind him, Peter Kennedy was looking out the reinforced window next to him in thought.

'Goddamn it.' Peter laments through a bloodied nose and busted lip. 'Kaiser's gonna kill me.'

Next to him, the woman jabs Peter lightly in the arm with her elbow. 'You shouldn't have antagonized those guys.'

'They shouldn't have overreacted.'

'You shouldn't have thrown money in that guy's face.'

'He should have gone to get a new shirt!' The conversation is slowly getting louder with each phrase.

'Hey!' The driver, a uniformed cop, interrupts. 'Keep it down, please.'

'Sorry.' The lady apologizes to the officer. 'Anyway… who's Kaiser?'

Peter gives the lady a confused look. 'Eve, I could have sworn I've explained this to you.'

'Ehhhh, probably. I dunno, this last week's been a blur.' Evelyn admits. The vehicle is quiet for the rest of the ride back to the police station, where they are taken out of the vehicle and escorted to the temporary holding cells inside. There wasn't a lot of space since most of the cells were occupied, so both Peter and Evelyn were put in the same cell. Once inside, their handcuffs are removed. Eve sat down on the bench that acted as a bed for the cell.

'So… now what?' Peter asked the officer that had cut loose the zip ties around his wrists.

The officer shrugged. 'Wait here while we sort out the situation.'

'Pretty dry and cut.' Peter said. The cop nodded.

'It is what it is. Excuse me.' The cop replied deadpan, walking away from the holding cells. Peter sighed and took a seat next to Eve.

'Now we wait.'

February 2, AC 426

Western Sovia, Europe (the former Russian Federation)

Six years before Cascadia.

Half an hour later, Munroe had found his way to the local police station where he hoped that pair had been taken to. Once he's inside the warm interior of the station, Munroe unbuttons his flannel and takes his hands out of his pockets. He approaches the front desk that was all quiet this evening. One of the attendants spots him approaching.

'Good evening, sire, what can I help you with today?' The attendant asks in a friendly and approachable tone.

'Hi. I'd like to pay bail for two people who I assume were brought here because of a bar fight. One female with blonde hair, tall, black dress, the other male, black hair, also tall, party attire. If it helps, the first name of the latter is Peter.' Munroe explained. The attendant nods in acknowledgement and types something into his computer. Very quickly he gets a hit.

'Peter Kennedy and Evelyn London, brought in for one count of instigating violence and bar violence, and one count of bar violence respectively?' The attendant asks.

'That'd be them. What's the condition on their bail?'

'Let me check…' More searching on the computer. 'Oh shit, I forgot they changed the rules on that... If you want, you can just pay their fines off here and they'll be free to go.'

Munroe raises an eyebrow. 'Oh, cool, that's easy. How much do their fines add up to?'

'Uhhh… $1200 in total. Seven hundred for Kennedy, five hundred for London.' The attendant looks at a list of offenses to glean that information. Munroe shrugs.

'Easy. Where do I…" Munroe reaches into the pocket that has his wallet in it. He pulls out his PayEasy card; a universe debit card. The attendant punches a few things into an EFTPOS machine and pushes it forward so that Munroe can access it. He places his card against the scanner section. Beeeeeep. Payment completed.

'Easy done. If you want to take a seat over there-' The attendant points to a row of seats in the lobby, all of which are empty. '-we'll have your friends out in ten or so minutes.'

'Right on. Cheers, mate.'

'No worries, have a good one.'

Munroe walks away from the administration desk and takes a seat, just as another man walks in. This guy was a bit taller than Munroe, somewhere between six-three to six-five, his face pock-marked with scars and matted with a patchy black stubble. In comparison, his hair was short and well-organized. He possesses jeans and a leather jacket, and he approaches the desk.

'Good evening, here for Peter Kennedy.' Even from the chairs, Munroe could hear the man clearly. Munroe clears his throat.

''Scusi?' Munroe calls out to the man. 'If you wait a few minutes, they'll be on their way out.'

'Huh?' The man is confused. The attendant explains the situation. '...ah, right. Thank you.' He approaches Munroe and takes a seat next to me.

'Before you ask, you're welcome.' Munroe beat the man to the punchline. The latter chuckles.

'Thank you anyway. Saved me a grand and a bit, and an explanation.' The tall man replies. He looks up and down at Munroe, analysing him. He notices a tattoo on Munroe's left wrist. 'Hey, that tattoo. Is that-'

'Federation Oceanic Air Force roundel.' Munroe replied, cutting the other man off. 'Did a four year tenure before figuring out that the service life wasn't for me.'

'FOAF… nice. Don't see many of you outside of Oceania these days, even retired folks.'

Munroe shrugs. 'Suppose I needed a change of scenery after getting out. Been drifting around the Periphery states for a few months. Y'know, enjoying life.'

'Mmm, I get that… humour me. Why did you get him released? By the sounds of it you two don't know each other very well, if at all.' The other man asked, looking for a motive. Munroe chews on his lip thinking of an answer.

'Seemed like a good dude. Guess I'm about to find out if I made the right decision.' Munroe's answer is simple. The other man didn't seem at all satisfied with that answer, but said nothing more regarding it. A couple of minutes later, Peter and Evelyn were brought out, hands free, by a pair of officers. Peter hesitated to move forward when he noticed the other man sitting next to Munroe. The other man raised an eyebrow at Evelyn.

'Uhhh… Hi, boss.' Peter says in an attempt to break the tension. He then looks at Munroe. 'What are you doing here?'

'G'day Dip, I hope you're doing well.' Peter's boss analyses Evelyn. 'Dip, you didn't tell me you had a partner in Sovia!'

'Partner?' Evelyn raises an eyebrow. 'We're just old friends out of Cascadia!' This conversation makes Munroe giggle a little bit. Evelyn glances at him. 'And yeah, what are you doing here?'

'He-'' Peter's boss points to him. '-payed off your fine so you can skip a jail sentence over the weekend.'

'...Ah. Well, thanks.' Evelyn seems to understand, and thanks Munroe.

'Don't sweat it.' Munroe shakes the thanking off. The group of four huddles around for a moment in silence. Peter's boss stands up while Munroe remains seated waiting for somebody to break the silence.

'Hey, flannel guy, I don't think I caught your name back there.' Peter is the first to break the silence. Munroe looks at him, confused for a split second, but then suddenly remembers.

'Oh shit, didn't say anything. William.' Munroe introduced himself to the group. Peter offers his hand.

'Peter.' Now Munroe knew Peter's name. 'This here's Evelyn, and this is… hey boss do you care if I-'

'I'm best known as Kaiser.' Kaiser raises a hand to cut off Peter before speaking. Munroe looks at the three and slowly nods, compartmentalizing all their names so he didn't forget in five minutes.

'Peter, Evelyn, Kaiser. What are you three doing out here? You're sure as hell not locals.' Munroe asked.

'Well Peter's on a vacation, we bumped into each other by accident and here we are.' Evelyn explained both herself and Peter.

Kaiser shrugged. 'Got off a contract with the United Kingdom last week. Figured I'd take a break out this way while waiting for the next one.'

'Contracts, eh? So I take it you and Peter here are pilots?' Munroe was quick to figure out what Kaiser meant by contracts. They were mercenaries. Kaiser pursed his lips and nodded.

'That we are. As morally decrepit as we all are, it's good money, and we get shit done where nations either can't or won't for the sake of publicity.' Kaiser in a way defended his and Peter's way of life. Munroe put up his hands in mock surrender.

'Hey man I'm not accusing you of anything. Money is money.'

'For the record I'm not affiliated with these two, but I did do some time with the Cascadian Air Force.' Evelyn asserted her own working status. Munroe understood.

'I flew with the Oceanic Air Force for a bit, so I'm in the same boat there.' Munroe mentioned his own military experience. The brief exchange between Munroe and Evelyn drew the silent attention of Kaiser.

'Oi, Dip, we'd better get going. Car's near the front of the lot. I won't be a minute.' Kaiser directed Peter to start moving. The latter bid farewell to Evelyn and left the lobby of the police station. Evelyn and Munroe were about to leave, but they were held up by Kaiser for a moment.

'You two both have experience as pilots. I don't suppose either of you are looking for work?' Kaiser asks. He sounds innocent but the intent behind the question was clear.

'...I dunno. I put aside the service for a reason.' Evelyn was the first of the two to reply.

Munroe seems to think about it for a few moments. 'Give me your business card. I'll think about it.'

Kaiser fiddles around in one of his jacket pockets for a moment, eventually producing a pair of plastic-covered cards. He gives one each to Munroe and Evelyn.

'Give me a call if you change or make up your mind. Until then, I bid you two farewell.' Kaiser bid Munroe and Evelyn farewell, and made his exit. Evelyn didn't spend much time sticking around.

'Guess I'll see you when I see you then, Will.' Evelyn said to Munroe before leaving.

'Likewise. See ya, Eve.' Munroe returned the call before she left. He looked at the card that Kaiser had given him. Sicario Mercenary Corps… He pocketed the card and left the station, buttoning up his flannel as the chilly wind outside slammed him in the face. Another half-hour later, it would have been pitch black outside without the street lights and his flannel was covered in ice and snow, but Munroe arrived back at the hotel room where he was currently staying. He took off his frozen flannel and threw it in his laundry pile, reheated some lasagna he had from yesterday and laid down on the couch. Munroe ate and cleaned up before reading the business card.

SICARIO MERCENARY CORPS
Arnold Frenken

Sicario Head of Operations

SicarioEnquries

(07) 321 666

Munroe memorized the number and dialed the number. It didn't take long for the person on the other side to pick up.

'Hey Kaiser, it's Will. About that job offer…'