FanFic: Traitor Hunter

[TheZombieKing]

Chapter 1

The Second World
Compromised
Failure, my constant companion

It was in the year AC 0063, on Neudaiz, that I cornered the traitor Abel Thesky for the second time in my career.

The year was waning into its last few months, and Neudaiz had entered into its dying season. Trees, normally lush and green in the summer, had turned to shades of gold and brown, and shed their great wealth of leaves onto the mountain path, to be crushed underfoot by the passer-by. It is a breathtaking sight, one that all citizens of Gurhal should see at least once in their lifetime.

I had no time for sightseeing though, and quietly made my way through the thickets of brush that lined the mountain path, cringing every time my heavy boots crackled against dead leaves. This was more often than I would have liked, despite my carefully placed steps.

In my hand was a Moatoob-make B'duki Roga, its photon cell glowing red with barely contained power. I checked the charge once again just to make sure. The meter read full. The guns solid weight and long barrel comforted me as I slinked along.

Thesky and his entourage, whoever they were, had left a clear trail where ever they went. Leaves were trampled in large avenues as they were flattened by many feet, and more than once I found the still-smoking carcass of an ageeta, cut down with either a blaster of sorts or an energy blade. This flagrant disregard for life sickened me.

This was pre-SEED era. Ageeta are not exactly known for their kindness, but if not agitated they will gladly leave other life forms alone, granted that you aren't directly below it on the food chain. These deaths were not a result of self-defense, but a vicious act of barbarism.

I moved on, leaving the split bodies of the ageeta behind me.

***

It was not long after this that I found my quarry, the narrow paths now opening wide into a more open area. I counted nine men all together, standing around in a loose semi-circle around a bulge in the terrain. I brought the compact magscope to my eyes and peered across the faces of the men gathered.

Just as I thought, they were little more than hired muscle. Mean faces watched the area with bored expressions, obviously caring little for anything going, more concerned with their paychecks rather than imminent danger. I counted four human, two brutish beasts, and a slender, silver CAST who's face was an expressionless mask that held two glowing red eyes. Only it seemed alert. I click-snapped a picture to be stored into the magscope.

My heart skipped a beat as I as laid eyes on Thesky for the first time in over three years. He was a tall man with a receding hairline, once black, but the stress of his fugitive state had left it with streaks of silver in recent years. Dark circles were mooned under his big, watery eyes. I zoomed in and click-snapped a picture, before moving the scope to his right.

This man I did not know. Dressed in a non-descript suit of grey, with his chestnut brown hair slicked back against his skull, he looked in all the world like a salesman, one you might see attempting to sell you a used speeder on Parum, the kind that broke down a week after it's purchase. I click-snapped a high-res picture of him as well.

I couldn't hear what they were saying, despite the high-gain microphone attached to the magscope. A murmur of indistinct chatter was the best I could pick up. I dropped to my belly and crawled in closer, adjusting the knob in attempted to get a better yield.

Meanwhile, Thesky was pulling the netting away from the mound, revealing a matt-black transport. It was rather large and square, with a blunt nose under the pilot's viewport. Some kind of modified cargo runner, evident from the two photon cannons mounted under the nose. Definitely non-regulation. Damn his bones, he was going to try and escape again!

The indistinct murmur had gained some kind of fluency, and I paused, canting my head to listen to the conversation between the two men.

"But there's so much work left to do on this planet, Kramer!" Thesky was saying, his voice high and nasal, like a child with a cold, "I was just beginning to unlock the genome of-"

The slick haired man, given the name Kramer, set a gentle hand on Thesky's shoulder. I saw a glint in the sunlight on his finger. I pushed the magscope to max zoom and clicked an image just before Thesky's neck obscured the view.

"My dear, dear Abel," Kramer began, his voice smooth like vintage wine, "I know this sudden departure is throwing us all into a disarray, but it's a necessary precaution. The Guardians are watching us too closely, and I fear the AMF is getting interested in ways simple bribery isn't going to fix."

So Thesky had corporate backing. One with a heavy hand too, to be able to bribe CASTs into complacency.

***

It is true that most Guardians choose to take a more dynamic approach to their missions, electing to shoot first and ask questions later. I myself would rather be slow and meticulous, gathering intel, letting a bounty damn themselves, and those around them, before the hatchet was dropped. It was not enough to simply exorcize a rotten apple when the entire tree could be decayed. It was for this reason I lingered a few moments longer instead of extracting right then, or calling in support to take care of this menace once and for all.

May the Holy Light forgive me for the deaths that resulted because of my folly.

***

I was more or less willing for Kramer to reveal the name of his organization, but being a cautious bird, he said no names for me to hear and record. Instead, he spent several moments reasoning with a distraught Thesky that his current course was the correct course of action.

I was tense, being so close to Thesky, and fatigued from too many days without sleep in the past week. Maybe I breathed too loudly, or shifted my position without enough stealth. Perhaps it was my heartbeat, which thumped like a jackhammer in my ears, that gave me away. I do not know, I often contemplate this moment, even now.

I don't know every manner of technology that's shoved into the humanoid bodies of a CAST, but this one had the sort of tracking technology that would make even the most advanced AMF scout envious, as I later found out. It simply glanced my way, almost casually, and raised an autogun, firing off several shots before its more organic counterparts had even time to register the sound.

If the CAST had been brandishing a Phantom or some other sort of sniper-variant rifle, I have no doubt that I would not be alive today. Instead, its underpowered pistol fired off shots that fizzed out before they could hit me, and for that I was glad. I rolled to my feet, knowing stealth was useless now, and threw myself into the closest patch of cover, a outcrop of rock that jutted from the cliff face.

The other mercenaries were moving towards me now, shouting challanges and firing shots that splashed harmlessly against the rock wall protecting me or simply waned in power over the distance.

I leaned around the rock and fired off a blast from my gun. Tenora Works handguns, while lacking the finesse of Yohmei weaponry, or the functionality of GRM brand blasters, are made with one purpose in mind: Power. Sacrificing an extended charge life, the shots from a Tenora Works can easily punch through a low-grade line shield and level the hardiest of warriors.

That's it exactly what it did. My initial shots knocked over two of the bodyguards advancing on me, smoking holes in their crude armor, before I was forced back into cover by returning salvos. Every moment that passed brought the remaining mercenaries closer to my position, and it would only be a matter of time before I would be out flanked. They had numbers, firepower, and time on their side.

I could hear the whine of the transport as it prepared to dust off. Lucky for me, it was an older model, and had to run through preliminary checks before it could take off. I redoubled my efforts, coming around the cover despite a flurry of gunfire and fired another series of shots. A bolt ricocheted off my line shield, close enough to singe my hair.

Suddenly, one of the beast mercs came around the outcropping opposite of me, his snarling face full of teeth and eyes raging with blood lust. In his hand he held a crude photon blade, glowing purple with megi, casting a sinister glow across his features. I could only utter a curse as he raised the blade to decapitate me, bellowing a roar that shook my diaphragm.

I do not exaggerate when I say his head simply vanished, his neck becoming a blackened stump of tissue. The blade fell from his hand, clanking and hissing against the ground as it came to rest. The body toppled over onto itself. I had not heard the whine-pulse of the sniper rifle over the roar of the late beast, but now I could hear it clearly over the surprised cries of men caught unaware.

For the first time in over two hours, I broke comm silence, "Its about time."

There was no response, but I was not surprised. The whine-pulse was constant, even, methodical. Just like a machine.

I transfered my heavy pistol to my off-hand, and drew my saber from the nano-transformer. It purred to life as I thumbed the activation stud, and came around the rock, swinging the cold blue blade wide.

The first muscle expressed surprise, and he held that expression as I cut him down. The second mercenary was not caught so off-foot, and met my blade with a dagger he held blade down, its energy formed into a wicked dagger I would have admired if I had not been so busy deflecting his fast, furious strikes.

He came at me, swinging in a feral manner that lacked form, betraying his inexperience with the blade. He had probably only used it in the occasionally brawl in the Low Streets of Moatoob. I, however, was trained not only by the best instructors in the Guardian Academy, but had the sheer weight of experience on my side, and I easily parried, shoved my weight forward to throw him off-balance, and made an exquisite whirl before impaling him with the tip of my blade.

Even though I continued to hear the sniper fire coming from a concealed position, a quick glance around told me that Thesky's muscle had been cleanly executed. My eyes fell on the transporter, and I ran at it as its massive black bulk began to climb into the sky. High powered snipe-energies flashed harmlessly off it, opposite of its open cargo door, slowly rising. I saw Thesky and Kramer standing there, watching me. Thesky mouthed my name.

Abrahm Rorcen.

I bellowed challenges and fired up at them. The CAST, which had somehow survived the firefight, stood in front of the more vulnerable men and photon fire glanced off its line shield. The hanger door closed, and it hovered there. For a moment I thought it was going to turn and fire on me with its twin lasers, but it glided away, up into the sky like a lazy bumblebee.

I watched it until it passed through the clouds.

It was only then that my cover revealed herself, sliding from between a pair of rocks that formed a high V, up on a ledge that allowed her an entire view of the open plain. Even with the pulse of the photon blasts, I hadn't known where she was until right then. She climbed down, and made her way over to me in a stiff walk, the Phantom resting in her arms.

Her blue eyes, the only smidgen of color on her otherwise white body, were as expressionless as the rest of her. I have known CASTs to be incredibly lifelike at times, but she was a cold, calculating individual who I wasn't entirely sure I liked, but her kill recorded was unmatched. Her childlike face, and young, supple body, modeled after a youth girl of school age, hid the deadly power and skills she contained. A white beret sat on top her head, reinforcing the illusion of innocence.

Kamikaze Aoi. She was not at all pleased by this turn of events.



<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: TheZombieKing on 2007-09-26 20:07 ]</font>

[EphekZ]

Not bad, the first person story telling is quite good too. I'll keep reading, so keep it up.

[TheZombieKing]

On 2007-09-26 21:09, EphekZ wrote:
Not bad, the first person story telling is quite good too. I'll keep reading, so keep it up.



Thanks for the comment! Second chapter should be up by the end of the night.

[Garanz-Baranz]

Very Impresive, your obviously better then me at writing stories. heh.

[TheZombieKing]

Chapter 2

Vanity
The Arbiters
Discovery

If I had not served with Kamikaze Aoi for so long, I would not have noticed she was upset. It was a subtle thing. The way she moved, how her eyes would narrow slightly every time she looked at me. My questions were answered with short, clipped responses.

It annoyed me. Granted, it was my fault that Thesky had gotten away. Kamikaze had been in position several minutes before I had even a chance to lay eyes on my quarry, but I had given her explicit instructions not to fire unless I gave the word. As it turned out, her disobeying this order saved my life.

I watched the rolling landscape pass by as she flew our G-Flyer back to Ohtoku City, sheer cliff drops running less than a kilometer below. A herd of Ollaka paused to gaze up at us as we roared over it at near super sonic speeds. The sky boomed with our passage.

"We're um... going quite fast..." I began, my hands clutched to my seat in a death grip.

Aoi nodded, but held the speed. Red-gold forests gave way to the lush greenery of the islands far below. The sea, just a distant glimmer on the horizon, twinkled in the midday sunlight. For a moment, the sun glared against the glass windshield, and I caught a glimpse of myself.

I was thirty-nine Standard, but a life of well living and a strict regime of exercise made me look somewhat younger than my years. Clean-cut, with skin the color of bronze, and close-cropped black hair, I was often told I had a certain look of respect and nobility about me.

I felt neither at the moment.

I was clothed in long-sleeved shirt of black, with a turtleneck that came up right to my chin. Despite the line shield, I wore a subtle vest of anti-ballistic material under the shirt. Below the shirt, I was garbed in dark grey pants and heavy boots with steel plating running down the front. I must admit, despite my foul mood, I was still able to admire my formidable figure.

"You're so vain." Aoi muttered, catching me admiring my reflection.

***

I'll not bore you with the details of what followed, the reports I had to file, or the ride back to the GUARDIAN Colony. They are quite routine for any Guardian, and a part of everyday life as much as eating and sleeping.

By the time I stepped into the cool, sterile environment of the Colony, it was four hours later, and the busiest part of the day. People jostled back and forth, attempting to put as much distance between themselves and their jobs as possible. Desk clerks, carrying leather briefcases passed me without so much as a glance. Off-duty Guardians lingered in a small groups, chatting of the day's adventures. A shop attendant, her face careworn and tired, pulled a shutter over her storefront as she closed up for the day.

Aoi and I merged into the crowd, flowing with the foot traffic to our destination, three floors down. I ignored denizens as they jostled into me, and politely declined the fast talk of a CAST trying to sell me "authentic" rappy chicks, which were no more than sorry little yellow finches shoved into pathetically tiny cages. They squeaked softly as I passed them by.

The mass river of bodies began to thin as we came down to the first floor of the colony. It was a wide, circular area in design, with potted plants and palm trees making a loose ring around a fountain that dominated the center of the floor. More Guardians lingered here, taking a break from the strenuous demands of their jobs to relax in the artificial shade of a tree or listen to the gurgle of the waterfalls.

"The rest of the team are not going to be happy." Aoi commented, coming up next to me now that the sheer press of bodies had let up.

"I know." I replied, stepping around a pair of lovers who were sharing an embrace.

Aoi stepped with me, "What are you going to tell them?"

"I'm surprised you even have to ask." I stopped infront of the gray, non-descript doors that lead to the Guardian quarters. It opened with a hiss, and the two of us stepped into the elevator.

"The truth. I will tell them the truth."

***

As long as the Guardians have existed there have been little sub-groups formed by its members. They're completely within regulations, and completely useless, in most cases. They are half-hearted organizations- and I do use the term organization loosely- that usually share some kind of view or idea. They often lack any sort of unity, with it's members only dealing with the organizations affairs when its suits his or her needs. The Guardians generally refer to them as Guilds.

However, several years ago, my predecessor, Ujima Date, created a guild with the rather lofty goal of uniting its members to work towards a common cause. He believed quite strongly that without the effort of friendship and teamwork, even the most well equipped organization would fall apart. He wrote many essays on the subject, most of which are now required reading in Guardian training.

Date called this guild the Arbiters, and set to work building a unit that would work as one, gathering experts from every branch of the Guardians to be a part. In a few short years, the Arbiters had closed hundreds of cases and had an outstanding record of success with missions. Eventually, The Guardians president of the time, Edgar Glam, recognized the Arbiters not as just a guild, but now a full blown sub-branch.

I joined the Arbiters back in '39 as a field agent. I wasn't sure what Date saw in me, but more often than not he would keep me by his side, and often confined in me his worries about the Arbiters. On my twenty-fifth birthday, he revealed to me that I would be his successor as the Arbiters leader.

Unfortunately, it wouldn't be many years later before I would be thrust into the leadership role. Date died in an explosion that killed almost half the Arbiters during a raid to take down a poaching ring called the Thickskins. Suddenly, Ujima Date was dead, and at the age of twenty-nine, I took the mantle of the Arbiter's captain.

That was ten years ago, and I've tried to live up to Captain Date's expectations of the Arbiters. I handpick every recruit, and only take aboard the best. I don't believe it would be arrogant of me to say that we were the best unit within the Guardians.

The Arbiters operate out of a suite within the Guardian quarters, especially given to our purpose. Though space is not graciously avaliable, it is almost the size of three private quarters, and houses several networked computers, a briefing room, a small sleeping quarters, and has a retinue of three advanced Partner Machines to keep it in optimal condition.

A cool breeze invited me into the suite as the door slide open, and I stepped inside. Several of our officers, who had been clicking away on keyboards at their personal computers, paused to look up at us as we entered. A handful saluted. It was not a requirement to salute, but some did it out of respect. There were a few who greeted me by name.

The Arbiters had a total of fifty-three employees on its payroll. Less than half of those were field agents, with the majority in auxiliary positions. Intel, support, so on. They were the backbone of our operation here, but at the moment there were only eight in the room, dedicated individuals who were inking a few more hours of work when everyone else had gone home.

"Good evening, sir, how did the operation go?" Claire sang to me as she practically shoved a cup of coffee into my hands.

Claire White, the newest member of my retinue. She was the daughter of the late Christopher White, my best friend. He died ten years ago in the same blast that took Date's life. She had been only six then.

Despite her mother's protest, Claire had elected to follow in her father's footsteps and joined the Guardians, and after graduating from the Academy, she had practically begged me for a position in the Arbiters. I took a risk and brought her aboard. Though she had been with us for six months, she had proven to be bright, energetic, and as brilliant as her father.

"Terrible," I replied bluntly, sipping the hot caffeine in my hands, "He got away."

"Oh, well, that's okay, we'll get him next time!" She smiled. I dearly wished that the rest of my agents would take the news so well. Unlike her, many of them had been working on this case for years.

"Yes, we'll get them next time." I sighed, "Why are you still here, Claire? Shouldn't you be out having a life by now?"

Claire gave me an annoyed look, which was almost comical on her young, flawless face, "In fact, I was about to leave," she huffed, motioning down to her clothes. She had changed out of her usual attire of grey robes in favor of a form fitting dress of black felt, with a cream-colored scarf wrapped loosely around her neck. Admittedly, she looked stunning. Ah, if only I was twenty years younger...

"Noted." I said, looking around, "Is anyone else here?"

"Lilith is still hanging around writing up a report on the Trusslin case, and Marcus is around here somewhere. Napping in the back, I think."

I raised an eyebrow, "Another fight with the old lady?"

"Looks like it," She replied with a shrug, "Other than that its just the usual desk jockeys."

"They're not just 'desk jockeys', Claire, everyone is a valuable part of this team." Claire was technically part of the field team, though she rarely participated in operations.

"Okay okay, don't bite my head off." She waved her hands in front of her in a defensive gesture that made me smile. She then stepped towards me and set a light hand on my arm, "Don't be too bummed out over this Thesky guy, okay? Night, Captain."

"I'm fine, Claire. I'll see you in the morning."

The newman girl smiled and walked past me, pausing only to say a goodbye to Aoi, who simply nodded, as if bored. Then Claire left, with a decisive click as the door closed again. I motioned Aoi to follow me, and made my way to the back of the suite.

***

My desk was a behemoth of a piece, made of a heavy steel casing around a titanium core. It was nearly impossible to move. A relic from Date's day, I once asked him why he used this ancient thing instead of one of the more sophisticated data-desks.

He had rapped his knuckles against the surface, making a dull, solid series of clangs, "You hear that?" he asked me. I nodded, not really understanding what it meant.

"Heavy, durable. Took six beasts to bring the bloody thing in here. I've never been able to move it since. Not that I've wanted to." He turned to me at this point, "You see, Abrahm, sometimes technology isn't the best answer, sometimes people need not to be rallied by an image."

"So the desk is suppose to be an image we're to be rallied by?" I asked.

"No, but look at it. It is powerful and unmoving. It can resist the heaviest of strikes and turn away the sharpest of blade, but it will not give." He grinned, "Just like the Arbiters, Abrahm. No matter what, we will never give an inch to those who threaten our society. And whoever sits behind this iron desk, they will forever be reminded that its that iron will that keeps our society going, not technology."

Gurhal lost a true Guardian when Ujima Date died.

"...tain?"

"What's that?" I asked, coming out of my thoughts.

"You were staring at that desk like you were planning to kiss it," Aoi said, accompanied by a suspicious look.

I blushed and sat down, pulling the magscope from my pocket and setting it down on the cool surface of the metal desk. Aoi gave it a curious look, and sat down opposite of me.

"You got pictures." She commented.

I nodded and pulled the data stick from its miniature port, sliding it into my standalone computer console. The machine hummed softly as it came to life and basked us in a blue-green glow. On its monitor it displayed the pictures I had acquired during the operation. Aoi leaned over the desk to get a better look.

I shuffled through the collection of digital photos, dragging images around with the touch of a finger. I stopped on one in particular. Aoi blinked, genuinely surprised. She drew a circle around the image with her finger, and it zoomed in.

"The ring." She muttered.

"Possibly our only clue to the identity of Kramer. Or, more importantly, who he works for."

"Kramer seemed pretty hush-hush about who he worked for. Wearing a piece of jewelry that would identify him seems unlikely, at best."

"You think its a dead end?"

She nodded.

"I don't." I said, after a long pause.

"Why?"

"Who can say? Call it a hunch. I think that ring will lead us right to him."

"Very well."

I shuffled through the handful of photos several times, trying to pick up little details I might have missed the first time through. Or the second.

I stopped suddenly on one of the images. I caught Thesky and Kramer chatting next to the cargo flier. Aoi looked at me.

"What is it?"

"See that?" I pointed to one of the mercenaries in the picture. He was slightly blurred from the focus, and it showed him only from the neck up. I was pointing to a dark smudge on his neck, "Its a brand."

Aoi shrugged, "How do you know its not a tattoo? Its not exactly an uncommon practice amoung hard-liners."

"No, see?" I flickered through the images and pointed to the necks of the other mercenaries in sight, "They all have it." I tapped a few buttons to get the image to resolve the focus, and the smudge became rather detailed all of a sudden.

My pulse quickened by this discovery, "These men were not mercenaries at all, they were slaves."

[EphekZ]

ah, I see where the slave aspect is going. Very good read, I love it. Keep it up =)

[TheZombieKing]

Author's Note: Chapters 3 and 4 were actually suppose to be one Chapter, but it started to get so long that I decided to split it into two. Here's the first part. Enjoy!

Chapter 3

Plan of Action
The Low Streets
Smirking Fred

That night, sleep would not come.

I laid there in my bed chambers, staring up at the ceiling as I contemplated everything that we had found out. I realized, much to my dismay, that there way still very little to know about. Thesky's whereabouts, Kramer's identity, all these things continued to elude me and steal away sleep in the process.

We had precious few clues, and that seemed to make things all the more infuriating. We knew now that Kramer, or Thesky himself, had opted to use slave labor for protection rather than hired muscle. I wanted to know why, and where they had come from.

Frustrated, I got up and paced about my apartment, idly checking my weapons, going through my e-mail on my personal computer. These were short-lived distractions though, and after awhile I found myself laying back on my bed, again staring at the ceiling.

After several hours, a chime on my bedside clock indicated the start of the day cycle within the Colony. I got up.

My PM, a high-end model named Eppi, came over to my bed as I sat up, rubbing the fatigue from my eyes. She was a short creature, as was every PM model, with short red hair and a ridiculously large yellow bow on top. She gazed at me unblinking with big blue eyes.

"Good morning, Master Rorcen"

"Morning, Eppi," I mumbled, getting to my feet, "Breakfast?"

"Yes sir," she nodded, "I am preparing a meal of lapucha eggs over easy with a side of Parum wheat toast. Also, at your request, I've prepared a side of koltova milk for your consumption."

A light meal. Good. I began pulling clothes from my wardrobe, comparing shirts and pant combinations. I finally decided on a dark blue shirt with black Neudaiz calligraphy sown into it down the front in two parrel lines, with black breeches and steel toed boots.

As I finished dressing, my room intercom chimed. I walked out into the living room/foyer and pressed the SEND button.

"Yes?"

"It's me." Kamikaze Aoi's flat voice replied, "I have something you need to see."

Curious, I punched in my door code in and it slid open with a hiss. Aoi glanced around before turning to me. She had replaced her beret with a billed cap, and wore a long white coat that came down to her ankles. Her idea of subtle, I guess.

"I did some digging around last night," she began.

"You were out investigating all night?" I suddenly felt as I had been slacking, lounging around my home all night while one of my agents was diligently doing her job.

"I'm a CAST, I don't need sleep," she shrugged, then handed me a data stick, "that took me seven hours, some broken fingers, and a whole lot of quiet money to get that information. Don't waste it, please."

"You say that like you think of me as some kind of rookie," I said, genuinely hurt.

"Just saying." Aoi snapped. She had had a stressful night. I noticed for the first time there was dried blood on her knuckles, smeared into dark stains where she had tried to wash them clean.

I sat down at my computer and plugged the data stick in. The computer took a moment to boot, and I opened the file. "Hmmm..."

The information was all here, but Aoi told me out loud. I think she relished finally being able to reveal the fruits of her labors, "The Zimmer Family, one of hundreds of groups on Moatoob who fancy themselves to be rogues. They have their hands in a lot of things, apparently, but its mostly small time. A few narcotic shipments here, a handful of dirty jobs there."

Eppi began serving breakfast, setting down the plate on my desk without comment. I had spent many mornings working and the small PM had grown used to this. Before she stepped away, she asked Aoi if she needed anything. The CAST waved her away and continued. Eppi, unfazed, wandered off to oversee the breakfast clean-up.

"You'll see down there that their biggest income is in slave trade. Its pathetically small compared to the big-hitters, like the Cane Family. Remember them?"

I smiled slightly. The Cane case had been a bitter take-down of a long standing slave ring, and one of the first cases we closed myself at the Arbiters' helm. Guardians were still cleaning up the occasional remnant of that family.

Aoi went on, "At any rate, the family is ran by an old crone named Linza Zimmer. Been running it since the late forties, it looks like, but hasn't managed to get outside of being a small fry."

"What does that mean for us?" I asked, staring at the emblem that represented her family. Same I had seem on the necks of the slaves in Neudaiz.

"You're the Captain," Aoi replied, "If you're wondering though, Zimmer has a slave trade proxy named Smirking Fred that hangs around the Brute Force most days..."

I grinned, "Eppi!"

My PM came around the corner, "Sir?"

"I need to assemble a task force, can you prepare the vision phone to prerecord?"

"Right away, Master Rorcen," she bowed and left the room.

"What are you thinking, Rorcen?" Aoi asked.

"I do believe we may have a plan of action."

***

My chosen team sat in the briefing room of the Arbiter HQ, bleary eye but expectant. They chatted softly with one another as one of the partner machines handed out refreshments. As I entered the room, they all turned to me expectantly.

I waved them down, "Sit."

They shuffled into chairs as I moved to the data-board. It was a wide digital monitor that could be written on with a stylus, or could pull up images and video stored in the Arbiter's network. It made it perfect for briefing purposes. I wiped the board clean of the previous marks that had been, little more than doodles from a bored Arbiter, and turn to face the five individuals gathered. I cleared my throat.

"As you know by now, our mission to capture Thesky failed." This statement was taken with grim nods. Everyone had seen the official report by now.

"But we have a lead, and new information about who is backing Thesky." The image of Kramer popped up on the briefing board, the very one I had taken the day before, "This man is only referred to as Kramer, but we know he's working for a powerful group of people. This makes him as dangerous as Thesky, and our secondary target in this case.

"Kamikaze Aoi, I want you to go out and collect information on his whereabouts, the company he's working for, or where they've stashed Thesky. Anything that will help us bring the lot of them down. Assemble a team to help with your search if you need. I have a feeling Parum is your best starting point."

"Another hunch?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow.

A slight smile tugged at the sides of my lips, "Yes."

"Lilith," I turned to the woman sitting at the far end, "I need you to go to Neudaiz."

Lilith was a tall, pale woman with a slender face framed by bleach blond hair and steely grey eyes. She always wore a business suit of dark colors, and always carried an air of professionalism where ever she went. Her pale features made always look tired and ill, but she had a razor-sharp wit and was full of vitality, as I found out many times over drinks after work.

"I see. Any reason why?"

"I want to know why Thesky was there, and where he was last posted. He and Kramer talked of a hasty departure and I want to exactly why, if possible. Again, assemble a team if you want. I recommend it, Neudaiz has a lot of sink holes to look into."

"Yes sir." She nodded, pleased with the prospect of heading up an investigation. She had been wounded a few months ago during a fire-fight with a handful of pirates, and I had only used her on minor cases until now.

"What about us?" Claire asked. She was back in her grey robes, with her hair done up into the usual bun she reserved for work. Her eyes were wide with curiosity.

I turned to the last three figures in the room I had yet to address. Claire White, Marcus Logan and Randall Brim.

"We," I began, pausing for dramatic effect, "are going to Moatoob."

***

The Low Streets.

During the days when beasts were still a new race, and nothing more than slave labor for greedy humans, great efforts were made to mine Moatoob's vast underground resources. Large tunnels, large enough to house single-story buildings on each side of the rock wall with plenty of room left in between, were dug out of the solid stone for the mining front. They could house entire digging companies at any given time.

When the resources dried up, the corporations moved on, leaving these massive tunnel networks full of shabby living quarters and desolate slave-workers milling around in the hundreds, simply left behind like a piece of equipment. The tunnels became a slum-city in a mere instant.

This, of course, made it a perfect breeding ground for rogues, and over the years, they moved in and rallied the forgotten population for their own needs. When the Beast race gained its independence after a long and brutal struggle, the Low Streets hardly noticed, still living on the underbelly of society. Lawlessness still ran rampant, and hunger was a way of everyday life.

The local law enforcement agencies wouldn't have anything to do with the Low Streets, and only the young and stupid Guardians would venture down here after a quarry or looking for adventure. What they found was a dark, dirty world that wanted nothing to do with them.

Despite the lamps stapled to the ceilings of the tunnels in long rows of suspended wire, it was still perpetually dark down here. Everything seemed all the more sinister as denizens peered at us from the shadows. I made sure Claire stayed close to me.

We didn't stand out as much as you would think. Playing the part of a wealthy slave trader, I was dressed in a long overcoat of blue, with gold trimming to give me a look of self-righteous importance. My boots were polished to a sheen, and reflected the sparse light. I kept my chin up, and made to look around at my surroundings with a constant look of distaste.

Both Brim and Marcus had dressed into armor-plated vests with black pants tucked into combat boots. Marcus wore a battle-integrated mask over his face, making him look cold and disconnected. They looked like hired muscle, which was the point.

Claire, poor girl, had drawn the short straw in the deal. She was dressed into a ragged brown dress, with a photon-muffler around her neck. She had resisted it to begin with, until I had explained that she had to look the part of an enslaved force user if we were to look convincing. Reluctantly, she had agreed.

Claire looked depressed and forlorn, with her ears drooping slightly. I don't believe it was an act.

We wormed our way through the Low Streets, skirting past beggars who sat against buildings, hand painted signs explaining their sorrows and asking for a handful of meseta from passing strangers. I stopped and bought a hand made pot from an old blind beast woman. It was a wretched thing, but my sympathies had gotten the best of me. I ended up giving it to a passing child, who blinked at the unexpected gift. We were stopped every few minutes by crooked men who wanted to sell us an assortment of illegal weaponry, forged documents, exotic animals, young boys and girls, or what ever else they believed could make them a profit. There was even a one-eyed human who attempted to sell me a genuine Guardian badge. There was still blood caked around its sides.

By the time we reached the Brute Force, I wanted nothing more than to be out of this nightmare world.

We paused outside of the rowdy bar, and I eyed Claire for a moment.

"What?" She asked, looking herself over.

I grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it on her. She coughed.

"R-Rorcen!"

"You're too clean to be a slave, I'm sorry I have to do this." I smeared some on her pretty face.

She grimaced at me, "You're a bastard, Abrahm."

"You have no idea," I said, and threw another handful of dirt on her.

***

Like the desolate world beyond it, the Brute Force was a dark, dirty spot in the world, taking resident in an old equipment storage housing. A bar predominated the first, and largest, room, crudely fastened out of dry, dusty planks. It had been worn smooth with time, but still ran crazed with cracks on its surface. A series of stools, made from various pieces of metal, sat in an uneven row along its length. The rest of the room was peppered with tables surrounded by more ramshackle chair, occupied by small groups of grim looking individuals. They payed us no heed as we entered.

The bartender was a slender beast male with cropped hair dyed green. He gave us an impassive look as we entered, "Wha'cha want? One drink for each of ya if you plan on hangin' around," He nodded to Claire, "'cept your slave, 'course."

"Of course," I echoed, "a sherry for myself, and two shots of whisky for my associates here." I motioned to Marcus and Brim.

The bartender gave me a steady look for a moment, then nodded and poured liquid from half empty bottles into three glasses before sliding them across the bar towards my waiting group, "Here ya go."

Marcus ignored his drink, but Brim kicked it down in one gulp. I gave him a look, which he responded to with a shrug, "What? Didn't want it to go to waste."

Having anticipated this earlier, I had taken some anti-intoxicant pills before we had made landfall. I sipped at my drink and looked around lazily, as if I had all the time in the world, "Ah, could I ask you a question?"

The bartender narrowed his eyes, "Depends what you're askin' after."

"Ah, a man."

"Hmm... okay."

"He goes by the name of Smirking Fred. I heard he frequented this establishment and I was looking to ah... engage him in business affairs."

"Ah." The bartender nodded in understanding, "thought so. Don't get many strangers around here 'cept for that. Alright, he's back over there, in the corner. Behind the curtain. Can't miss it."

I nodded and flicked a meseta at the bartender for good measure. He caught it in the air and grinned, "You come back anytime now, eh?"

My party moved towards the back of the bar, pausing before a dirt-caked curtain that was pulled around one corner of the bar. I could see a shadow shuffling around back there, under the light overhead. I cleared my throat, and the curtain came aside.

One look told me why they called him Smirking Fred.

He was a newman of undetermined age, with the area around his eyes and lips were yellowed and sunken from years of narcotics abuse. Beady black eyes stared at us with distrust. His bald head was tattooed with his Family's emblem. His most distinguishing feature though, and where his namesake originated from I assume, was an old scar that started from the side of his mouth and went up towards his ear, giving him a constant impression of smirking to one side.

"Yeah?" He snapped.

"I'm looking to do business." I said slowly, tilting my nose up slightly, "I was told that you were the man to come to. Smirking Fred, yes?"

"That's me," he muttered, eyes sizing us up, "Miss Zimmer don't do business with nobodies. Scram."

"Nobody?" I said, looking between Marcus and Brim, before looking back to Fred, "I'll have you know, m'boy, that I'm the great ship master Benjamin Morn. Would your mistress truly turn down my famous goods?"

"Never heard of you," Fred said, and began to close the curtain.

"Ah, I suppose I'll have to find someone else to trade these two hundred force users to." I said quite loudly.

Fred paused, and pulled the curtain back open again, "Force, eh? What race?"

"Newman," I said, drawing the word out.

His eyes light up with that. Knowing that Zimmer was rather small time, I knew her proxy wouldn't pass up a deal this good. Force users were incredibly valuable and in high demand in the slave market. They were also very hard to keep in slavery, which made them rare in the marketplace. Two hundred was impossible to pass up on.

With this development, Smirking Fred's demeanor completely changed. He held the curtain open as we stepped into the corner booth, and offered to get us any refreshments we desired, or distractions for my men. I sat down opposite of him in the booth, Marcus and Brim moved outside the curtain to wait, and Claire remained standing next to me.

"So..." Fred began, interlocking his fingers beneath his chin, "two hundred, you said? Must have taken a whole lot of effort to get 'em all."

"Several men ended their contracts with me after that one," I said with a laugh.

"How you get your hands on so many, eh?"

"A village of them, in Neudaiz. Would you believe it? All of them, just ready for the picking. We had to kill most of the men, regretfully," I made a face that indicated something other than regret.

"So, mostly women then?" Fred sat forward. I could practically see the drool glistening on his lips. I suppressed a shudder.

"Yes." I motioned to Claire, "here is one of my many fine specimens I acquired during that trip. I assumed you would want to see them firsthand before forwarding me to your mistress, unless, of course, you yourself handle all the transactions."

"No no," Fred said, "I'm just here to make sure she sees no fools. A very busy woman she is, yes."

"Of course," I replied smoothly, "all of our times are quite valuable."

"Speakin' of which..." he looked to Claire, "come closer, girl."

Claire hesitated. "Now!" I snapped, and she practically leaped forward.

For the next ten minutes or so Claire was ran through a series of questions and physical examinations, tolerating Smirking Fred's skinny fingers for the sake of the mission. She closed her eyes, shivering as he poked and tugged at her ears, prodding at her skin. When his hand moved to pull up her dirty dress, I laid a gentle, but firm hand on his.

"Is this necessary?" I inquired.

"Gotta check for diseases and imperfections."

"Yes, but there are many things I need to get done before the day is gone, and already it has waned. I have begun to feel the effects of fatigue from the day's hardships."

"Of course," Smirking Fred said, lowering his hand, "alright, I'm down. I'll be contactin' you in the mornin'. A guide will bring you to the Family's house."

"Good." I said, rising to my feet, "I look forward to meeting Miss Zimmer."

Smirking Fred pulled the curtain aside, "I do believe she'll be delighted to see you."

[EphekZ]

I really do like the way you write. I'll be looking forward for some more :]

[TheZombieKing]

Chapter 4

Safehouse
Claire discovers her father
Zimmer

Rather than returning to the ship, my team and I opted to find a hotel down within the Low Streets. We found a dingy little place a few hours later, and got ourselves a room. After Brim had set up the proximity detectors around the door, we all relaxed.

Marcus had gone out to find food, and came back with four styrofoam bowls filled with some sort of bean and meat concoction. It was overall tasteless, and halfway through it, I had begun to long the freeze-dried provisions on the G-Flyer.

Both Marcus and Brim seemed unfazed by this meal, and ideally chatted about the latest developments in slashball, a sort of extreme sport that the population of Gurhal seemed entranced by over the last few years. I myself never bothered to look into it, but by what Marcus had explained to me, it seemed borderline barbaric, with large, muscular men hitting each other- called slashing- for control of a small blue ball that sat in the center of the field. The gist of it, as I gathered, was to get the ball to the opposite side of the field from your "home". It seems to be more complex than that, but, as I said, I was not interested in such pass times.

Brim laughed at something Marcus said, which I didn't catch, lost in my own thoughts. He was a beast with long hair red hair, tanned skin, and arms as thick as my thighs. He was one of the long-timers, having joined only a few years after me, but a good nine years older. Having grown up in the Low Streets as a child, I had brought him along as a guide. So far though, his knowledge of this underground world had gone unneeded.

He used to be a bounty hunter, as I understand, until he had met his wife and decided to settle down. However, a life of danger still called to him, so he joined up with the Guardians and was ultimately recruited by Ujima Date for the Arbiters. I also knew that he had two little boys, six and seven.

Marcus was much leaner and about as old as Brim, though I had recruited him only six years ago into the Arbiters. Part of auxiliary squadron within the AMF, Marcus had flown missions only if the price was right. However, tired of the discrimination within the AMF, he had left and joined the Guardians. I do believe he is the best pilot in Gurhal, despite his modest objections otherwise.

He had a scraggly, unshaved face and graying hair. He was thin and lanky, but corded with lean muscles abound, he was a superb fighter along with his ace piloting skills. He also had a family, a wife and teenage daughter, but only made vague references to them on occasion.

They both paused when Claire walked into the room. She had changed out of her ragged dress into the more appropriate grey robes, and had washed the dirt from her face and hands. She seemed to be feeling better now that she was out of her demeaning, if necessary, role.

"Hey kid," Marcus flashed a grin.

"You did good, Claire." Brim added.

"Hey Marcus. Thanks Brim," she smiled, before sitting down next to me, and pointed at the ring around her neck, "Get it off, now please."

I pulled the key card from my jacket pocket and slid it around the photon muffler. It came off with an audible click and I stored both back into my coat.

"I didn't think it would be like this," Claire said, after a moment.

"As Brim said, you did well..." I began.

"No, that's not really what I mean. Like, I just didn't think there would be all this cloak and dagger stuff, you know? Like, I dunno, I kept imagining we would just bust down some doors and start flashing our badges and people would listen."

I smiled, "Its like that sometimes, and in most civilized places in the system people will at least perk up and notices if you're a Guardian. Down here though..."

"Down here, saying you're a Guardian is like painting a target on your back," Brim growled, spooning another mouthful of meat.

I nodded, "We simply have to use deception out of necessity. I don't enjoy it anymore than you do."

"Its alright," Claire shrugged, "its just not what I expect. Did Dad... Christopher... did he do missions like this?"

"He usually led missions where going undercover was necessary. Your father could act like no one else in the Arbiters. I think that's one reason Captain Date recruited him in the first place."

Claire paused. "Mom doesn't really talk about him," she finally said.

I nodded, "Its been ten years, I suppose she think its time to try and move on."

"No, like, she won't talk about him at all. Even when I ask her, she just avoids the question and sends me away. Its annoying. I know a little bit about him, I remember his face and the way he smelled. I don't know who he is though." She sighed.

"I can tell you a little bit, I suppose." I said quietly.

Her eyes brightened up, "You'd do that?"

"Yes."

***

So I did.

I started from the beginning, how we met, until our graduation from the Academy and our recruitment by Ujima Date almost immediately. I told her all the stories, and she listened intently to every word. She laughed out loud as I told her about him wrestling koltovas in the rain, and gasped in horror when I spun the tale of his daring battle against a trio of rampaging jarbas, holding them off long enough to give the rest of the Arbiters time to evacuate a hospital.

Neither of us slept, and all through the night I spoke of Christopher's deeds, telling only the truth. I could have neglected some of the rougher parts, or added a few numbers here and there, but I wanted Claire to have a real, untainted image of her father. So, along with his stories of bravery, I told her about his failures, his uncertainties, everything that made him a real person. Tears trickled down her cheeks as I told her about meeting his future wife, their marriage, and her birth, how his eyes looked when he saw Claire for the first time. It was sometime after this, in the lull between stories, that she got up the courage to ask me the question.

"Captain Rorcen..." she began.

"Yes?"

"Where were you when Dad died? I mean, you were so close to both Date and Dad so..."

I sighed, "Ujima had decided that I should lead the operation to take down a drug cartel on Neudaiz. I was planet side, sorting out the last few piles of evidence and sketching out plans for a full blown raid, when I got the news."

Claire nodded, "I was grasping the concept of death, but I was really too young to understand what had happened to Dad. After all, he spent a lot of his time away from home with the Arbiters, so him being gone didn't make an immediate impact. Honestly, my biggest concern at the time was the fact that my mom was upset about something. It was only some time later that I realized Dad wasn't coming home again."

I shook my head, "that must have been hard."

"Not really," Claire admitted, "I mean, yeah, I missed him, but after awhile we just kind of got used to him... not being around."

"Well, I suppose that-"

"Do you ever blame yourself?" Claire asked, "for their deaths, I mean?"

The question caught me off guard, and I stuttered a few times before I answered with the truth, "Yes, sometimes, when the liquor is flowing freely and I need an excuse to feel sorry for myself."

"Well, its not your fault, you know that, right?"

"Yes, I know that."

"And..." she looked down at her hands, "I'm glad you didn't die. You're a good friend."

"I... I'm glad I didn't die either." I finished lamely.

I was disturbed to realize that I wasn't sure I believed those words.

***

There was no true concept of night and day in the Low Streets, since the trails leading to the surface are few and far between, and the entire area lives in a perpetual state of darkness.

However, my wristwatch indicated it was morning when a knock came on the door. I slid out of my chair, moving quietly not to disturb Claire, who had fallen asleep with her head on the table. She had her arms around a cushion I had managed to tease under her head.

A CAST met me at the door. He had a human face, running with old scars and dark, unkempt hair that hung around his eyes, which he constantly made a point to blow out of his face. His eyes were twitchy and distant, the telltale signs of Stigma, a kind of drug for CASTs that caused great feelings of elation when taken.

"Hey, you're Morn, eh?"

I nodded, carefully shifting my body to obscure his view of the sleeping Claire, "That's me."

"Good, like, I'm gonna take you to Zimmer, 'kay?"

"Very well," I said, "if you could wait outside for us to get ready..."

"Yeah yeah, 'kay." He took a step back from the door as I shut it.

I roused my team. Brim and Marcus hopped up and began pulling on their armored vests as I shook Claire awake.

She started and looked around, "Huh? What is it?"

"Time to go. Get ready." I pulled the photon muffler out of my pocket.

She frowned and moved off into the bathroom to change.

I glanced at the other two members of my team, "You two ready?"

Brim nodded, "Yeah," As if to emphasize the point, he pulled a shotgun from his nano-transformer and checked it over.

"Expecting trouble?" I asked.

"Hope not," Marcus mumbled.

"Not really," Brim responded, "just wanting to be careful, you know? I mean, we're walking into the de ragan's mouth, in a manner of speaking."

"I'm aware of that," I said.

"I hope so," Marcus said sourly before sliding his mask over his face.

"What are you guys talking about?" Claire asked as she stepped back out of the bathroom, now dressed down into her slave-rags.

"Marcus is worried Rorcen is trying to get us killed," Brim grinned.

Claire gave me a curious look. I shrugged.

"Are we ready to go?" I looked around, "Nothing left behind? No more objections?"

They shook their heads.

"Good, let's go."

***

The Zimmer Family had taken up residence in an old waste storage facility in the Low Streets. At street level, it was a small shack with the Zimmer family emblem spray-painted onto its rusted metal surface. I exchanged glances with my team and we all prepared to draw weapons at a moment's notice.

The CAST threw open the door, and beckoned us inside. We found ourselves on a rickety old elevator, heavy and industrial, but badly maintained so it creaked and groaned as we stepped onto the platform.

I looked around, "Is this safe?"

"'Course." the CAST grinned and threw a switch. With a ear-splitting screech of metal, we slowly began to descend through the rock bed.

It was a short ride, and before long the lift jerked to a halt at the bottom floor. The CAST pulled the protective fence aside and stepped out. We followed after.

The corridors below were somewhat cleaner than the surface above, but it stank of old sewage and excrements. The rock walls had been covered by layers of metal sheeting, dulled with age. The light was a little better, instead of the sparsely placed lighting street levels, the bulbs down here were numerous and new. We passed a pair of workers on ladders replacing the light bulbs. We skirted around them. There were a handful of intersections, but the CAST seemed uninterested in going down either of these off branching paths, and kept us heading straight down the main hall.

As the hall ended into a door, the CAST paused and turned to us, "I stay here."

"Very well." I stepped forward, stealing a glance at the camera watching me overhead. The door hissed open, and I motioned my team through.

We were faced with another door, and cast nervous glances at each other as we waiting for the second pair to open. If Zimmer had decided to spring a trap now...

The second doors came open. No shots came our way.

The next room was cool and inviting, with the terrible smell having moved into the background now, the purpose of the second doors. Inside the smooth rock floor had been replaced with solid metal plating, which clanked loudly as we shuffled into the room. A metal desk predominated most of the room, with a large cheese-colored emblem banner hanging on the wall behind it. Linza Zimmer sat at the desk and glared at me.

I instantly counted six people in the room, including Zimmer. There were four familymen standing in each corner, plus a fifth next to Zimmer and a thin, nervous fellow in a dark expensive long coat and an obvious toupee.

Zimmer herself looked to be a few centuries late for her funeral, despite her file only indicating she was in her late sixties. Her hair was gray and slicked back against her skull. Her eyes were framed with glasses, that regarded us like lowly scum. As we entered, her fingers laced before her lips.

"Greetings, Lady Zimmer," I began, with a bow.

"Ship Master Morn, is it?" She asked, "Greetings to you. My name is Linza Zimmer, as I'm sure you know by now, and this here is my nephew, Jimmy Zimmer." She motioned to the nervous man at her shoulder.

"Greetings, Sir Zimmer," I bowed to him as well, before getting to the point, "As you can see I have come with an offer of trade."

"Yes, Smirking Fred told me what you're offering. Quite the find."

"Well, if you would like to begin negotiations-"

Zimmer smirked, pushing her glasses up on her face, "you have no idea, do you?"

I blinked, "I don't follow you." Sweat broke out onto my brow.

"You have no idea how us rogues work, do you? There's no trade to be had here, Morn. You've probably never even done this before, have you? Just a wee little trader who thought they could make a few extra meseta on the black market when they found themselves some newmans, eh?"

I took a step back.

"If you were a real rogue, you would have brought more protection," she sneered, and, pulling a powergun from under her desk, shot me in the chest.

[TheZombieKing]

Chapter 5

The trap is sprung
Brim's Plan
Sweet Vengence

I suppose, of all the scenarios that had played out in my head, I had never conceived the idea that Linza Zimmer's greed would be a reason to try and kill me and my crew. I knew most rogues were notoriously underhanded and backstabbing, but this was rather surprising, even for a seasoned Guardian such as myself. These were the bitter thoughts that ran through my head as I knocked from my feet and hit the metal ground with a resounding, final clang.

Linza Zimmer got to her feet in the shocked silence, and, showing an arrogance I can only begin to fathom, she walked past my team and to the double doors. With a cursory glance over her shoulder, she said, "Kill them."

The familymen, having not been let in on the plan before, hesitated for a few seconds. Brim and Marcus, however, did not. Brim drew a heavy Tenora Works pistol and a power claw, and struck down one of the familymen before they had so much as time to draw their own guns. Marcus drew dual Vulcan machine guns and showered the room with hundreds of photon rounds, completely shredding the banner, and the two familymen standing on that side of the room. Zimmer's nephew ducked behind the cover of the desk, and cowered.

Claire, being of little use since her muffler was still on, crouched over me and tentatively touched my chest. I winced.

"You're still alive," She breathed a sigh of relief.

Drawing my trusty Moatoob pistol, I shot the last family man in the head. He slumped against the wall and slide down into a sitting position, "Going to take a lot more than a plasma bolt to kill me."

With Zimmer's familymen dispatched, Brim helped me to my feet as Marcus circled around the desk, his guns trained on the nephew. I glanced down at myself, grimacing at the damage.

My coat was scorched at the chest, with red emblems still burning around the blackened hole's edges. You could clearly see my vest under it now, but it was in rags, with the anti-plasma gel having evaporated from the intense heat. Under it still, my skin was exposed, blacked, blistered, and cracked. Blood had begun to seep from the wound, and though I didn't say anything to my comrades, it hurt to breath. I could feel the grind of a broken rib deep inside. I peeled off my burnt coat and threw it aside as Claire began to patch up my chest with a medical kit Brim handed to her.

"Cover the door," I growled to the beast.

I let Claire finish her work, then stepped over to Marcus, who had dragged Jimmy Zimmer from below the desk. The man looked terrified, having seen what my team had done to the familymen around him.

"I-I-I-" He stammered to find words.

I punched him in the face, crushing his nose in a gout of blood. He howled in pain and attempted to reel away, but I grabbed him by the collar of his well-tailored shirt, "Where did she go? Where is Linza Zimmer?"

"I don't know!" He wailed.

I let him drop to the ground and turned to Marcus, "Bind him up to something. We're leaving."

"Rorcen," Brim hissed, "we got company. Sounds like a real tough crowd."

"Abrahm," Claire motioned to her collar, "please?"

"Right," I said, going over to the discarded coat to retrieve the key. Then I realized where it had been placed. Claire whimpered as I pulled the burnt remains out.

"Looks like we're going to be without for now," I said, and drew one of my backup weapons from my nano transformer and tossed it to her.

Every Guardian learned basic firearms training and melee combat while in the Academy, so while it was not her specialty, Claire could still use a gun efficiently. She caught it from the air neatly, and checked the charge before nodding.

Marcus, having seen the exchange, gained that sour look on his face, "Oh, that's great, the only force user we brought along is crippled by a lucky shot."

We heard a faint hiss as the first set of doors opened outside. We tensed and moved into cover behind the metal desk. Brim, however, stayed next to the door, hugging the wall.

The second pair of doors slid open. The first familyman blinked at the bound and gagged form of Jimmy Zimmer propped against the desk, and the dead bodies of the other familymen in the corners. Obviously, this group was here for mop up duties, not an assault party.

Brim, still unnoticed, dropped a photon grenade at their feet, almost casually, then bolted for the cover of the desk with the rest of us. One of the familymen only had a second to cry out a warning and fire a badly aimed shot at Brim before the grenade hummed to life and blew up in a spectacular violet blast. Pieces of rock and meat splattered against the metal desk, and Jimmy cried out as a razor sharp wedge of metal sheeting went through his thigh.

The four of us came around the desk with our guns ready, but it was unnecessary. The grenade had either killed the familymen or knocked them flat by the concussion blast. We stepped over their prone bodies and made a break down the hall.

***

As much as I wanted Linza Zimmer, I knew that the extraction of my team had become first priority. I was wounded, Claire was almost useless from the restraining collar, and now every one of Zimmer's family members had been alerted to our presence. It was impossible not to hear the blast of the grenade in the tight corridors of the facility.

A trio of familymen, armed with heavy rifles, intercepted us at the first corridor, Brim and Marcus, moving ahead of me and Claire, gunned them down without breaking stride. We were past them before their bodies had hit the ground.

"Oh, that's not good," said Marcus.

Up ahead a line of familymen attempted to bar our passage, standing ready with rifles aimed at us. Brim slammed his bulk into a door at our left just as the line opened fire, splashing photon shots all around us. Marcus took one in the shoulder, and took my hand as I helped him up.

"I'm alright! I'm alright! Just got clipped!" He said, pushing us both into the room Brim had opened up.

It was a long forgotten storage room for waste products, and smelled horrible, to say the least. We disturbed great layers of dust as we moved across the room, around barrels of dark muck, it's identity I didn't even want to begin to fathom.

"A dead end!" Marcus moaned, and turned back towards the door.

"No, look," Claire pointed out a grated section of the wall, "Some kind of ventilation system?"

"A place like this would need adequate ventilation," I mused.

"Great, right." Brim said, "We can discuss the use of adequate ventilation systems later, let's go! Its our only shot." He moved towards the grate and wretched it off, "Come on! Come on!" He waved to Claire and I, before running to Marcus to help fire off shots at the familymen who had decided to peek into the room.

Brim exchanged his pistol for a machine gun and laid down a suppression fire that made the men on the other side of the door think twice before trying to push through. He and Marcus exchanged a glance, and the latter broke off and escorted Claire into the vent.

I hesitated. "Brim, come on!"

"Go ahead Rorcen!" He called over his shoulder, as he recharged his gun before laying out another burst. I noted that a handful of familymen had gotten in during the lapse of fire. "I mean, I'm not trying to be heroic or anything, Captain, but if someone doesn't cover our ass we're going to get blown to hell as soon as we turn tail."

As much as I hated to admit it, I knew he was right, and silently cursed. I peeked over the cover near the vent and shot a familyman who was trying to advance under the fire of his fellow rogues, "Brim, let me cover your escape. You have a family..."

"Oh, shut it, Rorcen." Brim growled, "You're wounded, and I have no intention of dying!" To emphasize the point, he stepped out from behind cover and mowed down a quad of the familymen. The rest cowered down into cover. "These guys have nothing on me. So quit with the noble sacrifice act and go, alright?"

I stared at Brim for a moment, then nodded, "Alright." I pulled some photon charges and two grenades from my transformer and tossed them his way, "You better not die, Brim, I'm warning you."

He flashed a toothy grin, "Okay Mom."

I felt like I should have said something more, but the familymen had renewed their attack, and Brim became wrapped up in the firefight. Quietly, I slipped out of cover and down into the vent, pulling the grate back over entrance.

Marcus glanced over his shoulder, "Brim?"

"He's watching our back, let's hurry up."

***

We crawled along in silent darkness for several minutes, doing the best we could to avoid making any noise. A few times Claire motioned us to stay still as we heard the familymen running down the halls. I strained to hear what they said, and get news of Brim, but outside of footfalls, there was nothing to be heard.

"Light, up ahead." Claire whispered back to us.

I nodded and she led up to another grate. I could see little past Marcus and held my breath as Claire scanned the room.

"Looks clear." She finally said, then beat it open with the butt of her gun. The sound seemed abnormally loud after being quiet for so long. After it was beaten out, she crawled through. There was another few tense moments when she disappeared from view, before peering back into the ventilation shaft, "hurry up, you two."

Crawling out, I glanced around. We were in some kind of equipment room, though, like the storage room before, it was dusty and forgotten, though cramped and much smaller. Some of it was obviously drilling tools, while others I wasn't quite sure of their purpose. Claire eyed a laser saw in the corner and I tugged her away from it.

"Don't worry, we'll get the collar off you soon. Using that will take most of your head off with it."

She visibly paled, and nodded.

"Marcus?" I asked, moving quietly over to the door. He had an optical eye wedged under the doorframe, moving it back and forth to check the hallway. He offered me a link, and I uploaded the scene into my goggles.

Nothing. I sighed a breath of relief. "Alright, we don't have long, so lets move fast and quiet. Claire, can you find the way to the elevator?"

Another talent of Claire's, beside using TECHNICs, was her photographic memory. She could find her way back through just about anywhere. She tapped her goggles and took a look at the video feed.

"Um, left. Should be that way."

"Okay, good." We stacked up on the door, and drew our firearms again. I pulled my saber out too, just in case. "Three... two... one... go."

Marcus threw open the door and we moved out, single file, along the wall at a slight crouch. Marcus took point, leading us fast but quietly. I could see the elevator ahead, and, unfortunately, two familymen lingered near it. They hadn't seen us yet, but we had no cover in the hallway and so I punched my hand forward, "Go loud, take them out!"

Claire and I spread out away from Marcus, and opened up on the duo. Suprised, they turned and fired shots back at us, most of them going wild. Claire squealed as a super heated bolt skimmed her face, leaving a wide black line in its wake. She put a hand over the wound, with tears welling up in her eyes, but didn't falter.

Her father would be proud.

A shot took me in the thigh, and I stumbled, but the pain renewed my focus and I shot my attacker with a trio of photon blasts. The first one harmlessly splashed across his line shield, but the second and third found their mark and punched into his chest.

As he collapsed into a lifeless heap, as the combined strikes of Claire and Marcus's gunfire overloaded the second familyman's shields and knocked him flat. We reached the gate of the elevator, wounded but alive.

Claire and Marcus turned to me as they stepped onto the elevator, giving me curious looks. I hadn't stepped onto the platform yet.

"You're going back for Brim, aren't you?" Claire asked.

"Captain..." Marcus said cautiously.

I held up a hand, "Don't argue with me, I'm not leaving him behind. Claire, give me the medkit."

She nodded and unstrapped the small box from around her shoulder and handed it to me, "You're wounded Abrahm, please be careful."

I nodded, before turning to Marcus, "Get some back up down here. Cops, Guardians, I don't care. If there's any of the other Arbiters planet side, call them. Can you do that?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. I'll see you on the surface."

Marcus pulled the gate closed, and with a final glance back and me, threw the switch. The lift screeched to life, and I watched my team, my friends, ascend to relative safety. Then, taking a deep, painful breath, turned and limped back into the Zimmer headquarters.

***

Despite my screaming leg and burning lungs, I walked faster when I realized the place we had left Brim was burning. It was a subtle thing at first, just a orange glow against the metal floor, but as I drew closer I could feel the heat and hear the crackle of flames. I feared my old companion dead, stepping over dead bodies as I peered into the entrance of the room.

Flames licked from the room at me, following the murky liquid spilt on the ground. It smelled even worse on fire, and was nearly intolerable as I smelled cooked flesh. I called Brim's name as I stepped carefully around the burning puddles, feeling the hungry flames lick at my boots. I had to skirt around flaming barrels and burning crates until I found Brim, propped up against the wall in the back.

He waved lazily to me as I approached, "Hey."

"What happened?" I asked, kneeling down before him, "Are you hurt?"

"Something flammable in the room went off, rather explosively, I might add. I didn't really see what it was, just a flash of flames."

"Are you hurt?" I asked again, becoming aware of Brim's sluggish moves and unfocused eyes.

"I'm alright," He said finally, "just a couple of minor things."

"Good," I said, "we need to get out of here, something else could cook off any second."

"Mmm... sure." he mumbled, "Hey, Rorcen?"

"What is it?"

"I... I lied."

My gut noted up, "What do you mean?"

"I'm pretty... sure... I... dying..." He slumped to the side, and I saw the bloody smear he left as he slide down the wall. I peered over him, and saw with horror that his entire back had been almost obliterated by a photon discharge.

"Brim! Brim!" I cried, feeling his pulse.

His eyes fluttered open, and he looked at me, "I really didn't intend to die..."

"You're not going to, hang in there."

"No, I'm done. Sounds cliche but... I can't feel my legs, and its cold. My wife... kids..."

"Brim?"

"This sucks." He whispered, and died.

***

I was unable to carry Brim's heavy, beast body, and was forced to leave him to burn in the waste storage room. I regret my own weakness in this action, and his memory haunts me still. I should have recovered his body instead of letting it be cremated in some wretched rogue lair. If I hadn't secured my place in Hell yet, I'm sure that secured the deal.

My thoughts raged with grief and vengeance. Rationally, I knew I should have followed Claire and Marcus back to the surface and wait for backup, but the sheer overwhelming needs for revenge against the bitch Linza Zimmer was too strong then, and so I prowled further into the rogue nest, hunting for her.

As I did, more explosions rippled through the faculty, set into motion by a chance shot against a flammable liquid. Familymen, their arms full of personal effects, fled past me, ignoring the very individual, that moment's ago, was the center of their attention. I, in turn, ignored them. I found Linza Zimmer in her office, oddly enough. The very place this whole charade had begun. It seemed somehow appropriate.

The fire was everywhere now, and the very structure of the place was beginning to fall apart. More explosions rippled somewhere in the distance, but I ignored them, seeing the scene before me.

Linza's nephew, Jimmy Zimmer, was dead, a hole in his head still smoking from a shot from Zimmer's powergun. It, however, laid discarded aside. I approached the prone form of Linza, and she gave me a pleading look. Her legs were pinned and crushed under the heavy metal desk, which had been turned over at some point. Perhaps Jimmy's final act of defiance against his aunt.

"Morn..." She gasped.

"No, Abrahm Rorcen," I growled.

She squirmed and whimpered, "Your him! That Guardian! Why? Why me?"

"I came hunting information about some slaves you sold recently. And you tried to kill me," I snarled.

"Please... don't leave me here..."

"Tell me about Kramer."

"I don't know..."

I stepped on her broken leg, she screamed.

"Okay! I sold him some slaves, damn you! About a month ago!"

"What company does he work for?"

"He didn't tell me."

I leaned into my step a bit, and she cried out the answer.

"Wizer Works! Wizer Works! That's all I know! Please!"

I lessened the pressure, and she gasped for air.

"Why did you lure me into your office, instead of just finishing me out in the hallway?"

"My nephew... worthless bum... hoped your people would... would do him in. But, you're all worthless, can't even... kill a man... right."

"Right." I growled, and turned to leave.

"You're a Guardian! You can't leave me here! Please, I'm trapped! I'm begging you!"

I paused, and slowly turned back to her, "Fine."

Her eyes lit up. I drew my saber, and her face became a mask of horror.

"No... you can't...."

"You killed one of my long time companions, you tried to kill me and the rest of my team." I brought down the blazing edge down on her trapped legs. "Drag yourself out."

I turned and walked from the room, Linza Zimmer's screams of pain and anger followed after me.

***

Claire and Marcus met me at the entrance, their faces nervous with anticipation as I came from below. Three other Arbiters stood with them, all of them expectant. They surged forward as I stepped off the lift and looked at their questioning faces.

"Brim's dead." I said flatly, giving a certain finality to it.

Marcus cursed softly, and Claire gasped a half-sob, "Oh Brim..."

"Captain," Virgil, one of the Arbiters, asked, "Did you get what you needed?"

"Yes." I said, my fists clenching, "Abel Thesky, Kramer, and his masters are going to pay for this. I swear my life on it."

If only it had been that simple.

Author's Note: Yay! The first act of Traitor Hunter is complete! Thanks to everyone who's read so far, and stay tuned for more Abrahm Rorcen and the Arbiters coming soon. Sayonara for now.

[EphekZ]

Nice chapter, This turning out to be quite the story. When is the next one gunna be up?

[TheZombieKing]

Author's Note: Holy crap, its been awhile! I had originally planned to start Act II before the end of October, but now here it is already January and a new year! But here it is now, the next part to Traitor Hunter, enjoy!

Chapter 6

Goodbyes
The Hunt Renews
Cornered


The day was warm, and a breeze fluttered our dark clothes about with unseen fingers. Shadows fell over us as leaves overhead kept Gurhal's sun at bay. You could hear the rustling of nature, and the call of birds in the distance. Parum was not at all interested in feeling our sorrow.

I have sent off many comrades in my time in the Guardians, and yet, it never becomes any easier to stand over that casket, wondering why another Arbiter goes to the grave when I yet still stand in perfect health.

My hand went unconsciously to my chest, where I had taken a plasma bolt only a few days ago. The wound was long gone, healed by the Guardians Medica, so that not even a scar remained to show the damage I had taken. And yet, I still felt a wound deep inside my chest, not struck from any blade or gun, but from my own guilt. I cast my eyes down, and muttered a soft prayer for Brim.

There were others around me, all garbed in black as they all said there farewells to another fallen soul. The majority were made up of Arbiters, those from the home base in the colony to field agents that could break away from their assignments long enough to say goodbye. I saw Claire standing next to her mother, both their eyes red and puffy from tears. I also saw Marcus, huddled with his arms around his family's shoulders, quiet and grim.

A newman priestess sang a sorrowful prayer-song over the casket, as it was lowered into the grave. As it touched the soft earth, the priestess crushed the delicate form of a sakura in her hands, and let the the pedals sail down to the grave.

"May the Holy Light guide this soul to its gentle embrace." She bowed her head and stepped back. The ceremony was done. The dead was laid to rest.

***

"Abrahm."

I paused and turned to the call of my name, "Laura... I'm sorry about your husband."

The woman before me was a beast like her late husband. Light brown hair fell over a tired face, partially obscuring her features to me. Normally she was a strong, handsome lady, but suddenly she seemed weak and frail.

"It's alright, it's not your fault," she frowned and looked away, "I knew this day would happen sooner or later. You don't live with a dangerous man without accepting the inevitable. Still..."

"Where are the boys?" I asked, slipping my hands into my pockets.

"With my mother. I didn't want them to have to face this... not yet." She peered down at the ground and wiped away a few stray tears with the palm of her hand, "they're too young to understand, but they're sensitive to people's feelings, you know."

I nodded.

"Abrahm... Claire White told me what happened," she laid a hand on my arm, "he died protecting you all. He's a hero, alright? Don't blame yourself."

I stiffened up, "Aren't you the one who needs to be comforted right now, Laura?" I said it a little harder then I meant.

She gave me an long, even look. For just a moment, she was the strong wife of Brim's again, then the expression withered and she laid her head against my chest, closing her eyes. I could feel hot tears soaking into my shirt.

"What happened to us, Abrahm? When did we grow so old and vulnerable? Why did the Holy Light take my Randall?"

"I... I don't know..."

Tentatively, I wrapped my arms around Laura, and held her until the tears stopped. It was a long time before I was making my way back up the trail.

***

Kamikaze Aoi was waiting for me when I finally returned to my hovcar.

She stood out against a background of black suits and dresses, occasionally nodding to one of the other Arbiters as they passed her. She seemed rather smug, considering the way she idly leaned against my vehicle and raised a hand in the way of greetings.

"Rorcen, I was starting to wondering if it was you they were burying."

I felt a hot flash of anger at Aoi's apathy, then reminded myself that she simply dealt with grief in her own ways. I took a deep breath, and nodded.

"I'm here now, what is it?"

"I found him, I found Kramer," she replied, the slightest hint of a smirk twitching at the side of her lips.

That gave me a start. I took a step towards the CAST, "Where? When?"

"About three days ago... my team found him."

"Here on Parum?"

She nodded, "No offense Captain, but shouldn't we discuss this...?"

"In private. Yes." I motioned to my car, "Get in."

Aoi gave it a dubious look, then opened the door and slipped inside. I went around and got in behind the wheel, tapping in the key code to activate the engine. It hummed to life, and we were soon on our way.

"So, what have you got?" I asked.

"I was asking around based on the photos you gave me. Got the info off some shopkeeper in Downtown Holtes. Says he saw a guy like that hanging around with a handful of splicers. Said they'd been passing by every day for about a week or so. Turns out he was right."

"Splicers." I spat the word.

Not content with their natural looks, splicers paid to get themselves genetically altered to become whatever their heart's desire. You could get anything from night vision to a complete racial make over, depending on who you were talking to and how deep your pocket went. They are an abomination of nature, and too obsessed with their own vanity to care for others.

"Perhaps Kramer has some sort of contact in the splicer community," I mused, "it would certainly fit in with the fact that he has a gene specialist on the payroll."

"I thought the same thing too." Aoi tapped some coordinates into the hovcar's GPS, "Take us there. I have someone waiting."

"You usually work alone." I glanced at her face.

She continued to stare out the windshield, "Too much space to cover, I needed some help." The slightest clench of her jaw spoke volumes of her annoyance.

"I didn't mean anything by it." I said, after a moment of silence.

"I know."

I dropped out of the main avenue of traffic and took the hovcar into Downtown Holtes. Clean, safe streets gave away darker, unlit walkways. Loose trash danced in the air as the vehicle's backwash sent it aloft. Signs flickered with half-life advertising merchandise several years old. Storefronts were covered with iron bars or metal meshing. Clean, well-maintain hovcars gave away to loud, rusty hunks of metal, most of them ready for the junk heap, much less on the street. There wasn't a single AMF emblem anywhere, but plenty of graffiti and gang symbols left on unsuspecting walls. This was the dirty side of Parum, the parts that the CAST leadership simply chose to ignore.

The citizens in this part of the city matched the dirty environments. The homeless milled about everywhere, huddled in little groups against rundown apartment blocks. We passed a roaming gang of humans, their hair done up in exaggerated pink mohawks and wearing hard leather jackets. They watched us fly by with hungry looks.

Aoi suddenly spoke, "I'm not welcomed down here, you know."

"I had noticed there weren't many CASTs down here." I kept my voice neutral.

"Yeah, most of these people blame the planet's governmental body for their troubles." She leaned closer to the window and peered down, "the ignorant fools. Just need a reason to blame someone else for their own troubles."

I bit my tongue. Aoi had strong feelings of loyalty connected to her race as a whole. It was best not to argue with her on the subject.

The GPS chimed as we grew close to our destination. I tapped a few keys and double-checked the direction, then pulled the hovcar into a gated parking lot. The guard yawned and nodded to me as I dropped the toll into slot. The gate rumbled to life, and rolled away to allow our hovcar entry.

I pulled it into a parking spot, and shut the engine down, turning to look at Aoi, "Ready?"

She nodded.

***

The rendezvous point was about half a mile from the parking garage. As we walked, Aoi filled me in on the last bit of information.

"So Kramer has been visiting a place called the G-Smasher, a club that caters to splicers."

"You checked it out?" I asked, and she handed me her PDA.

"Look for yourself."

I cycle the pictures stored, noting the photos of a front entrance and a back. It didn't look like much, with the only thing indicating it was a club was the subtle sign next to the door, and the duo of beast bouncers flanking the doorway. I cycled to the next picture and paused.

"Ah."

It was nearly the same picture, except a small group of people were moving into the doorway. At the end, there was the slick-haired Kramer. He was lagging behind slightly, and exchanging a knowing look with the bouncer.

I looked up to Aoi, "Too bad you didn't get any video."

The CAST gave me a dismissive wave, "I have someone on it."

I nodded and looked back down at the photo, contemplating the image.

Aoi nodded, "There he is."

I looked up as a figure approached us. He was a tall man, with long dark hair tied back into a ponytail, and a clean, neat goatee. His wore a cool nondescript suit of blue, with a black tie tucked down. He flashed a knowing grin and lit up a cigarette.

"Rorcen! Glad you could join us!"

"Bane, how are you doing?" We shook hands. Although Robert Bane was another of my Arbiters, he had a tendency to be a lone wolf and send me the results of his missions every so often. He was the closest we had to a rogue element within the team, and the few times I worked with him over the last ten years have left me wary of his presence, despite his dependability. He was a loose cannon, at best, and a sociopath, at worse.

"Not bad, Captain. Plenty of assignments to keep me busy. Though I was surprised to get a message from Kamikaze Aoi. Did you tell her to call me?" He inquired, that teasing grin still on his lips.

"No, she assembled her own team." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aoi shift position. Was she uncomfortable? Sometimes I wish CASTs were easier to read.

"Cool cool." Bane shrugged and changed subjects, "So whats our plan of action, boss-man? The lovely Miss Colt is on surveillence duties at the moment. As soon as she spots our man she'll give us a buzz."

"Not here." I turned to Aoi, "I assume you've set up shop somewhere nearby?"

Without comment, the CAST turned, "Follow me."

***

A series of silent warehouses stood sentry in even rows of four. Originally a storage faculty for Barren Corps., the company had long since gone out of business and abandoned the warehouses in some lost corner of Holtz. Like the rest of Downtown Holtz, the warehouses were in a state of disrepair, and the home to some of the more unpleasant denizens of Parum. Scavengers fled when we came too near, and shadowy figures watched us pass.

"Nice part of town." I commented.

"It's discreet." said Aoi, "Which is exactly what we need."

She lead us down dark alleyways, and through a series of twists and turns that finally lead us to another nondescript warehouse. On its rusting surface was a spray painted number 14.

"Here."

Bane stepped forward and pulled up the rolling door, then made a show of bowing to me, one arm held out towards the dark interior, "Your castle await, m'lord."

I ignored him. Once my eyes adjusted, I found that there was little to see on the inside. A handful of aluminum folding chairs had been set up around a makeshift table: It was little more than a plank of wood set on of old shipping crates. The surface held several papers, a few photos, and a half-eaten plate of food, the plastic fork sticking up like a miniature signpost. Next to the table was the glowing face of a data screen. Hundreds of wires crawled away from the screen into a generator that hummed in the corner. In the corner opposite of the generators sat a series of foldable cots. All of them were unoccupied at the moment.

Aoi walked over to the table and picked up the plate, "Its not much, but it's been our home for the last few days."

I nodded, "It will serve its purpose."

Bane stepped next to Aoi, plucking the plate from her hands just as she was about to dump it into a waste bin. As he began shoveling cold food into his mouth, the CAST made a face and turned back to me.

"You have operational command now, Rorcen. What do you want to do?"

I thought for a moment, then said "Let me review the data you have. Then we'll see."

***

As it turned out, there wasn't much data at all. Aoi and the other two members of her team had worked around the clock to follow Kramer over the last three days, but he seemed to follow an erratic routine, except for going to the G-Smasher every night. However, Bane managed to follow Kramer to a hotel, where the team assumed he was sleeping. As it turned out, he rarely stayed there for more than a couple of hours at a time. Kramer was a very busy man.

"Set me up a live feed with Jenny." I said, turning towards the data screen.

"You got it, chief. Lemme give her a call." Bane turned away from us and tapped his communicator. After a brief discussion, he turned back towards us, "Okay, she's ready."

Aoi tapped a few keys on the data board's control panel, and it suddenly came to life.

The entire view screen was filled up by the grinning face of Jenny Colt, a young beast woman who had joined my crew only two years ago. She an infiltration specialist, able to hack, sneak, and steal her way into just about any place. Her skills here were overall unneeded, but Aoi had brought her in just incase they needed to get into somewhere they were not wanted. She kept her blond hair cut close to her skull, and her brown eyes constantly darting back and forth to watch everything. However, her smile was pleasant and inviting.

"Captain! Where you been, cutie? We were worried you'd miss the party."

I smiled, "Good to see you too, Jenny. Whats your status?"

"Bored." She rolled her eyes, "Aoi's put me on surveillance duties and its sooo dull. There's nothing going on at the G-Smasher." She turned her eyes to Aoi, "At least you could let me follow Kramer and his cronies around."

The CAST glanced in my direction, "We were planning to scout the club tonight, but I decided to let you in on our discovery incase Kramer skipped town before we had a chance to confront him."

"Couldn't he slip out from under our noses while we're standing around here?" I asked.

"Nope!" Jenny cut in, jutting out her chin, "yours truly managed to plant a tracking device on him just yesterday."

I whistled, "I could kiss you, Jenny. You should tell me how you did it some time."

"O la la," Jenny purred.

"Its a hell of a good story." Bane said, grinning.

Meanwhile, Aoi tapped a few keys on the data screen again, and a satellite image of the area popped up in a corner of the screen. A small red blip on the map appeared, moving at a snail's pace near the downtown marketplace.

"Very good." I said, "Alright. Change of plans."

Aoi raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

I went on, "We're going to confront Kramer tonight, at the club. I know you'd rather scout, but there's too much risk of us losing this lead. There's too many unknowns. What is Kramer doing here? How long? And every day we wait, Thesky gets further from us. We have to use this lead, now."

Aoi narrowed her eyes. "Are we going undercover?"

That stung. Apparently, she was upset about the change. At that moment though, I didn't care, "No. We slip in, find Kramer, then start waving our badges and guns around and make them listen. Understood?"

Jenny was grinnning again, "You're speaking my language, Captain!"

Bane shrugged, "I'm down. It was getting too dull anyways."

Aoi folded her arms over her chest, "Its your call, Rorcen."

I watched the CAST for a moment, then nodded, "Right, good. Alright, we'll head in there tonight. Bane, take over for Jenny so she can get some rest. I'm going to need her in top form."

***

Aoi's voice chirped in my ear, "I have you in sight, Captain."

Personally, I would have rather had Aoi with me, but unfortunately, CASTs were unpopular in this district of the city, so I was forced to set her on overwatch duty. Even now, she was watching us through the scope of a sniper rifle.

"Roger that, Aoi. Stand by."

Jenny leaned her head against my arm. She wasn't a mini-beast, but she was petite, and her head barely came up to my shoulder. She seemed calm and unconcerned, which was a lot more than I could say about myself.

"So, Rorcen," She said, wrapping her arms around my arm, "What are you going to do once the mission is over?"

"Go home. Have a drink. Not necessarily in that order."

She smiled and laid a hand on my chest, "I wouldn't mind doing that, with you, of course."

I chuckled, "You're young enough to be my daughter, Jenny."

She smirked, "I'm twenty-two, Rorcen, and I'm not your daughter."

"Fair enough," I replied with a shrug, "Enough about that, though. We're here."

Two bouncers hung outside the doorway, admitting anymore that wanted entry, but taking down names on a clipboard. One was a normal, albeit large, human. The other was a splicer, a beast with two large tusks jutting over his upper lip. He glared at us as we approached.

"Name?"

Jenny squeezed my arm. "What's the point of taking down our names?" she asked.

"Just incase we have a problem." He growled, "Don't worry, we keep in confidential. Now, name?"

"Erin and Melissa Bennings." Jenny said, without missing a beat. The bouncer nodded and waved us through.

"Nice," I said, once we were inside.

She shrugged, "Comes with the territory. I'll see you later Rorcen." Jenny smiled and slipped into the crowd.

It was a smaller club, but had two floors generally dominated by large glass panes that made up the dance floor. Two spiraling staircases winded up to the second floor, with each stair lighting up in time. A grid of glass plates divided the dance floor from the bar, which was servicing a selection of guests at the moment. Multicolored lights shined down over the guests on the dance floor, pulsing in time with the music blaring from unseen speakers. It was loud, thrumming sound, referred to as "Grindtech" and quite popular with the younger crowds. It gave me a headache.

I made my way through the crowd. The main section didn't interest me. I had to find a way back into the VIP quarters. If Kramer was coming here every night, no doubt he'd only want the best for he and his guests. A quick glance around told me he wasn't hanging about either. However, Bane would be wandering in in a few minutes to search more thoroughly, just in case. We had decided to come in separately to avoid drawing any attention to ourselves.

Despite it being only early in the night, the G-Smasher was already packed. I saw a handful of normal humans mingling, but for the most part it was splicers. They came in all sorts of shapes and varieties. There were subtle, a pair of unnaturally bright eyes here, or perhaps some elongated canines. Then there were the not so subtle: I passed a beast who was covered in De Ragan scales, the bartender was a woman who was beautiful and perfectly normal if not for a pair of cat ears with a matching tail, there was even a bare-chested human male who had white wings like an angelic figure.

"Rorcen, I found the entrance to the VIP rooms. There's ah... a problem, though." Jenny whispered into my communicator.

"Bouncer?" I whispered back.

"Yes. I think I can distract him. He looks bored. Slip in and I'll catch up with you."

"How?"

She chuckled softly, "I have my ways. I gotta go, there's some people staring at me as if they think I'm crazy."

"Roger that." I cut the line and started towards her location.

I found her dancing with a splicer, a drink in hand. I made eye contact, and she made the slightest of nods before moving over away from her dance partner, who looked disappointed but shrugged and wandered back into the crowd.

Jenny sauntered over to the bouncer. A splicer who had two wicked-looking horns pointing out of his forehead. He eyed her expectantly, before a wide grin spread across his face. She took a sip of her drink, then began talking to him. Over the music I couldn't hear their conversation, not that it mattered. Jenny shifted so that she was leaning against the wall next to the bouncer, so Horn-head had his undivided attention on the beast girl, away from the VIP entrance. I wandered through with my hands in my pockets, as if I had every right to be there.

***

It was much quieter in the VIP hallway, with the grindtech music now just a distant pounding on the other side of the wall. The entire hallway was bathed in red and orange lighting, and doors ran parallel on one side of the hall. I propped myself against the wall as a trio--two women clinging in the arms of a very intoxicated man--passed me and went around the corner, before checking my PDA.

Kramer was still here, in the VIP room, fifth one down. Early in the evening, his blip had moved into the G-Smasher and taken residence in one of the VIP room, where it had remained for the last two hours. I would wait for Jenny to catch up, then we would make our move.

As if summoned by the thought, the beast woman was suddenly at my shoulder, making me start. I suppose I should have seen it coming, her being a infiltration artist and all, but attempted to act calm and nodded, as if I knew she was there all along. She grinned knowingly.

"We ready?" Jenny asked.

We moved over to the door, and found it locked. As Jenny went to work, I kept a lookout and tried to act natural. It was hard. I was tense and nervous, my body wanting to act but nothing in which to put the energy towards. The seconds went by like hours, but there was a faint click behind me, and Jenny turned back to me.

"We're in. On your go, Captain." She said, drawing a pistol from her nano-transformer.

I nodded and touched my comm, "Bane, Aoi, we're preparing to make entry into Kramer's room. Standby."

"Okay, Cap"

"Standing by, Captain."

I glanced over to Jenny and held up three fingers. She nodded and laid a hand on the doorknob. I counted down.

Three...

Two...

One...

Jenny threw open the door and we barreled inside together.

"Guardians! Don't move!" I bellowed, covering the room with my gun.

Kramer and his splicer cronies had taken up residence in one of the posh lounges. Soft overstuffed chairs and love seats hugged the walls, and tables holding drinks sat within easy reaching space of every sitting place. Soft yellow light blanketed the room.

"Damn." Jenny breathed, lowering her weapon.

Someone had gotten here before us. Kramer had brought twelve other companions with him, and each one had a perfect, clean head shot punched through their forehead. There was no gunfight, no stand-off, it was an execution.

Kramer was sitting before us with a dead woman in his lap. His face, a mask of surprise, had a hole through the head, still smoking from the discharge.

<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: TheZombieKing on 2008-01-11 09:45 ]</font>

[McLaughlin]

It's getting real interesting. Hope to see the next chapter soon!