Glistening neon lights stacked up a thousand times, sparkling across the indifferent, innumerable platforms of which the Sub-Levels were built out of. Archius hovered towards the bar, covered with a thick coat and a warm fur cloak.

  Then, a voice grunted, “Please…” It was a homeless man. Ugh… another one of these people. Then, Archius noted their military fatigues, worn out and almost falling apart. Oh? They had a grey beard and bags beneath their weary eyes. “I need something to eat.”

  “You sure you aren’t going to smoke it all away?” Archius jeered, almost walking past. Then, he paused. He turned to the disgraced veteran. “What is it?”

  “Huh?”

  “Your story, of course.”

  The veteran glanced at the slimy, frost-bitten steel and concrete beneath them. “You heard it a thousand times, I guess. Discharged and left for dead… those like me couldn’t help, even if they wanted to; we were all in the swamp now…”

  “How about a deal?” Archius flicked out a small data pad before dropping it into the man’s lap. It had a few thousand standard items attached to it with tape. “You need a job, right?”

  The veteran’s eyes lit up for a second.

  “I want you to keep an eye out in the Sub-Levels. You’re a soldier, must be used to travelling in the high heat in the middle of the fuck nowhere, right? I want information, and you need a job.”

  “Wait.. I… Well, yeah…”

  Archius then stepped closer, placing his boot down on the veteran’s shoe, but ensuring he didn’t clamp down too hard. Even Archius had some basic level of decency… “But if you think about talking to someone about this deal… I’ll make you wish you ate a bullet twenty years ago.”

  Silence hung between the two before Archius chuckled. The veteran snorted in laughter. Archius then turned away and walked into the bar.

  For the low cost of… a few thousand, Archius garnered another disposable eye. Those few thousand were nothing to him… But they were everything for someone like that nameless soldier.

  The fiery roar of heat erupted up and across the room from an ornate fireplace attached to one of the walls. Light flickered through the cigarette smoke, with the whiff of tobacco filling Archiu’s nostrils. Hosea, Edain, and Amyé had already secured a booth in the corner of the room.

  Archius' eyes scanned to the rest of the occupants. Scrap workers... Scavengers... Technicians and a few gangsters. But no Blood Contractors!

  Walking across the room, he sat down next to Amyé. “Corner booth?" Archius asked. "Sure, it’s hidden, but it’s so cliché."

  "Hey, better we don't get noticed at all, right?" Hosea suggested. "Archius, are you sure this is the place?"

  "Half the information we got from that server farm was burnt and corrupted," Archius said. "For now, just eat and drink, you guys deserve it, but we’re grasping at straws here.”

  Hosea nodded and turned back to the menu on the table. "Let’s just get this over with.” The old man seemed unenthused about having to tie up all the loose ends.

  Amyé cut in, "Still, a nice cold drink first thing in the morning? You're spoiling us, Archius." She had a bright, smug smile on her face.

  "Yeah, Kaz doesn't spoil you guys enough," Archius thinned his eyes with his sarcastic jeer.

  "You've been doing this a lot, haven't you?" Hosea asked. "No wonder the boss trusts you all so much.”

  Archius snatched a menu off the old man before looking over it. Trust... What a useless word. It always went two ways, and that was something Archius could not rely on.

  Dubious factors at most, Archius thought, like Eliza. A friend, sadly, who would ache Archius if he had a heart.

  Archius then tossed the thought over the booth walls without a second consideration.

  He'll pay for his silence with beer. Raising a hand, Archius clicked his fingers a few times to call the serving drone. It was badly damaged, but that’s just the Sub-Levels.

  "One round of beer for all of us," Archius said, popping a dozen Standardis on a small metal plate hovering by the drone.

  It bleeped and blooped before taking the money and leaving.

  “Where’s Quinn?” Hosea asked, glancing around.

  “Better not be dead drunk,” Archius remarked. “If he is, he’ll probably be late… Or dead in an alleyway.”

  Amyé shook her head smugly, crossing her arms. "I’ll kill him if he has already started drinking before me. But uh, yeah, where is he?”

  Everyone looked to Edain, lazily glancing up at them despite being the only person here in Quinn’s Project. "Oi, I don't have a tracker on him. Archius, you seem to know everyone’s everything every time, right?”

  Then, the doorbell rang, and I swung open. Quinn? Archius peered with his ears to listen and his eyes to pry. Multiple heavy footsteps. Heavier… His eyes caught a few Blood Contractors.

  “Aha, so this is a meeting place… clever, low profile too,” Archius muttered to himself.

  They all sat down at the bar. But then, the drone hovered around with his lot’s beer, only for the plate to be snatched by the Blood Contractors.

  The bar owner exclaimed, "Excuse me! But those..."

  "You remember your deal with us?!" shouted one. "We protect you, alright? A few beers here and there isn’t a problem for any of us, you get that?”

  The owner meekly backed off, and these Blood Contract Cultists acted as if they weren’t at war with the entire Republic, downing their drinks.

  Hosea asked, "Well, there’s our lead, we're going to do something about this?”

  Archius looked around the bar and the booths. No one was happy that they were here. In fact, a few took their patronage elsewhere – leaving half-drunk cups of beer. What a waste of good beer… Archius thought, all ‘cause of these Contractors.

  "No one will miss them if we do," he said, as Hosea slowly placed a hand into his coat. “Not yet, though.”

  Archius had to hide his boiling rage. Sure, it was just alcohol, but Archius paid for it! Even if he was practically rich, Archius was frugal… and these Contractors had pissed him off, not because of any financial loss, but for the principle of it all.

  "Thanks, Dad..." Archius muttered under his breath, remembering all those days he spent helping at the market stall.

  Amyé nudged Archius. "Oi, we just going to leave these fools tied up here?”

  Perhaps, if Archius had a soul, he'd care for that owner. Sadly, he didn't. He had bigger things to deal with, and he wasn't going to compromise this mission by helping some poor fool who'll probably end up dead within a year or two.

  Instead, Archius said, "We can't risk everything for this. Think about how many lives we might save if we didn't pull the damn trigger now. They’ll know we’re here, and we might lose this lead, one chance to put a headshot in the She-Wolf.”

  Amyé grunted and nodded, ego sufficiently stroked by Archius’ words. "Tch, whatever.”

  "Maybe I can poison their booze?" suggested Edain. "Medical practitioners are practically one step away from silent assassins.”

  Archius played it safe and went with the option he had no soul in: "They'll send retribution teams, not good for anyone here."

  Edain rolled his eyes but understood. "Fuck, you're right..." he said. ”So, we're leaving or trailing them?”

  Archius had his eyes firmly placed on the Blood Contractors as one of them shifted in their seat. Their coat moved slightly, just enough that Archius caught a view of a security datapad. Oh… Now that was beautiful! Maps to their bases, maybe?

  "Maybe both, maybe not," Archius answered Edain. "Say, how are you guys interested in a bar fight?"

  The doorbell rang again. Archius listened to the footsteps. Thud... Thud... Thud... It wasn't too heavy but wasn't too light. Turning around, Archius’ hypothesis was correct: Quinn.

  He silently walked over, shimmying down the booth to squish Archius and Amyé against the wall.

  "Hey!" Amyé quietly retorted back to Archius.

  "It's Quinn..." Archius groaned, now being squished between two shorter people.

  A bar fight, it is, Archius thought, and a perfect way to start it. Perfect justification for one too, they stole their booze! Anyone with a sense of dignity has the right and obligation to fight for their own booze!

  “Sorry, guys, I had to… visit a place,” Quinn murmured. Judging by the slightly flowery hint of his hands, Archius could tell Quinn was visiting that monument again.

  Oh well, time to get to business. Archius turned to him. "You see those, Contractors?"

  Quinn looked over, slowly nodding.

  "What about them? Did we really come here and not get booze?” Quinn looked around the table, suspecting someone might be hiding it all.

  "They took your fucking booze," Edain answered with a thick accent, lowering his voice. And just like that, the cyan eyes shifted into a darker shade. "Woops, guess we have a fight, eh?"

  Hosea sighed. "Fight, is that the plan?”

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  "Just cause a... little distraction. Don't try to kill them, alright? One of them has a datapad, I don’t want to dig through half-burnt data for the second time this week…” reported Archius.

  Amyé shifted over the table to get out. Along with Quinn, the two gently glided towards the Contract Cultists. "Wait... are we really going to have a bar fight?" asked Edain. He nervously looked towards Archius. "I thought you'd stop them!"

  ”Aren’t you pissed off that they stole your booze as well?” Archius inquired.

  Edain and Hosea both got up from the booth. "Come on, might as well join in on the fun," Hosea remarked. "Some exercise helps with the aging body.”

  "Speak for yourself, Old Man," Edain said with a thick Torantionian Accent.

  The two of them left, leaving just Archius alone in the booth. Now, with them out of the way, Archius looked at the booth behind him. The occupants just left, and left nearly a full mug of beer!

  “How nice,” Archius commented as he shifted over, taking the beer before sitting back down.

  With a sip, he stretched himself out along the booth, making himself comfortable by kicking his legs up. Such a refreshing beverage... Maybe he’d come here more often?

  Nah… Archius kept mumbling to himself, even as a body flew across the bar, slamming into the booth behind him.

  Amyé got knocked back into the table. Archius brushed the dust and wear from her back. “Come on, you’re better than that!”

  Grunting back into the fight, she flung forward. Archius didn’t do anything; he didn't need to, as he was casually taking a sip of his beer.

  What a reliable team, he thought… Still, he wouldn’t trust them too much. After all, that’s why Archius was in reserve, one hand on his revolver – awaiting any complications.

  Trust was sparse for him, and he did not trust his team. If they were beginning to fail, he’ll have to bail them out. Which… is why he stayed on the sidelines, best to have a fresh person as an extra.

  If Kaz were here, maybe Archius would get involved; trust was there, but not here.

  Another swig! And another swing! A Blood Contract Cultist slammed into the wall behind him.

  Archius grunted, dragging the body off the booth before slitting their throat good.

  "You don't steal our fucking booze!" Quinn shouted, throwing his axe against a shield. Hosea crept around the side, slamming into their side. Unsteadied, the Contractor was unable to withstand Quinn’s tackle, sending them to the floor in a gargling rabble.

  “What is this drink?” Archius gestured to the owner, weaving a spinning throwing knife that dug into the seat beside him.

  The owner was cowering behind the bar. He looked up at Archius. "Sorry, sir?!" He narrowly ducked beneath another Blood Contractor, flung across the bar, and into a large cabinet of wine. "Agh! No! Uh... Sir! It's cider!"

  "Cider..." Archius took another swig. "Fuck me, this is nice! Good on you, man!" So this must be what Elizabeth and the Engans drink… Fruity… complicated. “And here I thought all Engan food was bland!”

  The fight had practically ended as Archius finished the cider. He slammed the mug into a Contractor’s head, standing up before looking out across the bar.

  Archius reached out and yanked the Datapad. Archius placed his ICAPAD beside it, harvesting everything with Krystalink.

  "All of this, just for that?" Quinn asked. Archius lobbed the datapad away after finishing the transfer. ”Can we at least get some booze now?”

  "Eek!" The Bar owner squealed as he remained idly still behind the counter. Archius grabbed a bottle of beer over the counter before chucking it to Quinn.

  He caught it and popped it right open. Edain was treating some minor injuries taken by Amyé. "I think we all know you shouldn’t be fighting the big ones by now.”

  "Fuck you, Edain..." Amyé grunted.

  Hosea walked over. "We are killing them all?" Archius peered around the bar. No one was there anymore, except them, of course.

  “No real point not to.”

  With that, Hosea finished their miseries. Even knowing what they’ve done, Hosea made it quick and painless, two bolts to the head for each one.

  "So..." Archius turned to the bar owner. "Sorry about that, but we'll be out of your hair soon enough."

  "My... bar..." he sobbed.

  Awh, no! Now he's going to make Archius feel bad! As if. Still, Archius did owe him for the cider… Archius flicked up a whole stick drive filled with Standardis and slammed it onto the table. "Get out, hide, find a more enlightened part of this country. Don’t worry about the reprisals, they’ll be long gone by then…”

  ”Sir…” The owner took the Standardis.

  "Oh yeah... And no questions asked?" Archius cut in.

  The bar owner meekly nodded several times. "Thank... you?"

  "Nice manners," Archius commented. "Now get outta here..." The Bar owner fled into the back of the bar.

  With that in tow, everyone helped themselves to whatever alcohol was left… after the fight.

  Archius looked over the information. Interesting… Coordinates? "Aha! We’ve got something. Coordinates.”

  He showed it to the rest of the crew. Hosea looked over and squinted... "Huh... Hmm. Alright...?" Did the old man know something Archius didn't? It really didn’t matter, because they have their lead!

  “Time to get the ball rolling.” Archius slid his sleeve over his ICAPAD, hiding it.

  "Might just be a fake-out, hmm?" Edain suggested, finishing the wrappings along Amyé’s wrists.

  "Which is why we'll go check it out," Archius said. "Make sure it's the real deal before we holler brood mother for the cavalry, hmm?" Archius jeered with Edain’s way of speaking, mimicking the Torantionian accent perfectly for a single word.

  Archius could feel the artificial gratification of a mission well done just one step away… All he had to do was grasp it, and the Blood Contract Cultists would fall. Then what?

  The thought came randomly to him. What next? Not like Archius had much to begin with, he thought. Kaz was the raw exception to his trust… So… What was Archius even doing?

  Archius sighed, looking over the information. He still has Jas… somewhat, he thought. Looking away, his eyes thinned and slowly dragged to the ground, betraying the fa?ade he had put up.

  But the thought died down; all variables must be controlled. Archius knew the cost too well, the cost of any disaster around him. And here he was, surrounded by idiots to prevent another disaster.

  No.

  This was Archius' mission, his creed to control for himself. Better him than someone else, Archius thought. “Aren’t you right?” Leaving the bar, the others followed behind him.

  The instant freezing air crashed into his thoughts of trust.

  ? ? ?

  Not a soul remained in the Dead-Zones of the Sub-Levels. Dark, dingy, and grimy areas… he thought. It was an abandoned urban hellscape, with the marks of war embedded deep into each broken surface.

  Hosea signalled for Amyé to rappel up. A rappel shot out from her arm brace, linking up to a bridge hanging over them.

  It was a whole network of old train rails and tunnels.

  For a place of this reputation, it wasn’t totally dead. A few pearly peach-eyed ghouls peered out from their dens, seeking potential lunch after a long hibernation.

  Archius’ team was enough to scare them away. Their thick coats and additional padding made up for the sub-freezing temperatures.

  However, an everlasting heat source clung to their backs. Jump-Packs, attached over their coats and strapped to their armour underneath.

  "Fucking hell..." Quinn started. "I thought it wasn’t going to be this bad.”

  "Didn't run too many operations down here, hmm?" asked Edain. "Hmm, you’d want a tetanus shot by the end of this, Epsilon." Edain chuckled with a raso.

  Hosea gave some information, "The dead zone was never always like this. Look around you, old buildings, plazas, parks, and... there used to be countless billions down here in streets like these.”

  Archius snickered. "These exact streets?" He gestured to the field of rubble and decay.

  Hosea shot back, "You know what I mean, don't you?"

  Peering up, all Archius and Hosea could see was the glistening ceiling of the Sub-Level – and the numerous tall, bastion pillars stretching their fingers to reach the top. Flickering lights mimicked stars - yet not a soul was here to behold these stories.

  Untold stories buried, he thought whilst passing single file across scav paths.

  Hosea piped up, ”Some say these places are haunted.”

  "Who knows what Hazards are over in here?" Edain shrugged. “But haunted?”

  "Yeah, Anagora's a pretty haunting place, have you seen the rent?" Archius quipped, as the group chortled under their breaths. “Imp and Rep intelligences battled in a war of experiments, some say, anomalies and hazards escaped… some say.”

  Quinn snorted, “Wouldn’t you know that!”

  “I’d prefer to think they’re fake, but with all those new Harbinger precursor sites on the news… maybe the galaxy’s weirder than you’d think, Quinn.”

  Amyé was traversing the rails above them, scouting ahead here and there as rubble slid off to the ground.

  Quinn and Edain were wearing winter coats, whilst Hosea wore a large military greatcoat.

  'Amyé, you see anything interesting up there?' Archius asked.

  Amyé let off a grunt. 'Nope. Not a fucking whisper. Few mor-rats here and there. Few bones and skeletons, but nothing much.”

  'Tch,' Archius started, sighing. 'Quinn, Edain, take to the skies, cover more ground.’

  Edain and Quinn nodded before splitting up from Hosea and Archius. They ignited their Jump Packs, taking to the skies and flying over a large mound of rubble and concrete.

  'Oi! We can use our Jump Packs?!' Amyé asked.

  'Conserve your fuel!' Archius shouted. 'You have that rappel, alright?'

  Amyé returned with an affirmative grunt.

  Icey surfaces… Archius almost slips. Throwing a hand back, Hosea caught Archius by his coat collar, setting him up straight.

  "Woops, you would have cracked your head there,” Hosea snorted with a chuckle.

  "Yeah... I know.”

  A small lull of silence entered the fray. Suddenly, Hosea broke the silence, "You don't trust any of us, right?"

  "What makes you think that?" Archius asked, maintaining a facade.

  Hosea turned back to him. "You smile all the time, but you ain’t ever show your real face around us.”

  To that, Archius relaxed his muscles. His eyes narrowed, and his lips formed into a frown. "I see, I can frown too, you know?”

  ”Nothing much… Does the boss know?” asked Hosea.

  "Yeah."

  Archius placed his arms together, crossing them as they continued to walk. A small mound of rubble blocked their way, and they ignited their Jump-Packs. Flying over the mounds, they landed calmly on the other side.

  Archius commented, "You're a rare person, not many can see through it. Barely any, even."

  "HA!" Hosea chuckled. "You need to learn to trust, Archius! We need to learn to delegate, to trust… You kept your hand on the gun back there, waiting for one of us to slip up, even though you know we fight well.”

  pretended to care, continuing, "I have my own ways. How can I tru—"

  '—Hey!' Amyé cut in. 'I've got something! Heat signatures and lights! Jackpot or a blackjack, I think it is!’

  Archius and Hosea kept their glares on each other before the two glanced up. 'Highlight it for us, Artillerist! Scout ahead and see what you can find.'

  They rendezvoused at Amyé’s position, using their Jump Packs to fly over rubble and avoid it. In a vantage point along a broken shopping centre overpass walkway, they squinted at a dim light. It was… a Citadel of sorts, with a dozen walls and spires attached to the main body,

  Lanterns and campfires illuminated the dark visage in the distance, with innumerable houses, apartments, and commercial centres, now shattered, between their vantage point and the target.

  "This isn't just some Scavenger's Capitol," Archius commented, peering at war supplies and vehicles through enhanced binoculars. “Well, if they were, they’d be the most successful scavengers this side of the galaxy.”

  Amyé grunted, snatching the binoculars from Archius.”The place is large, right? Quinn, you’ll have a field day with this.”

  "I'm not gonna steal a whole fortress," he jeered back, staring through his own binoculars. The freezing, harsh wind rattled through the building, but the freezing winds did not dampen Archius’ thoughts.

  Their objective was finally in arm’s reach… The crescendo was approaching, and now all they needed was a good raid.

  His thoughts and feelings were not reciprocated by Hosea, who glared in horror and amazement.

  "It can't be..."

  Archius inquired, “What now, Hosea? Got something we can’t see?”

  "Artegia..." he muttered back, through the binoculars. "We are cursed…”