***
Aeon City was neat, tidy, and supposedly closely monitored by Arachnos soldiers. Despite a relatively high quality of life that could almost be compared to
Paragon, it was as much an odd mix of police state and anarchy-based dictatorship, with Arachnos-sponsored supervillians clashing with Gold Brickers, Luddites,
even Arachnos itself, in Recluses twisted idea of training.
As such, it was an odd location for Sell-Sword to be walking into a bar, even in casual clothes, his true face hidden behind a hologram. While his name and
face wasn't on the hero register, there was always the chance that Arachnos would have discovered it. Still, he wasn't showing any concern as he went
and sat at one of the back tables and waited.
Barely a minute later, another figure stepped through the doors and walked towards him without really pausing. A somewhat older man in his early forties,
wearing a faded leather jacket over a shirt and grey military pants, with a rather unremarkable face and a bit of grey in his hair.
"Afghan fields," he said as he sat down.
"Idiot fire blaster wannabe tried burning the crop," Sword replied. "We got the fuck out, left his stoned ass to the Taliban." He smiled
faintly and added, "Sydney."
"Twin dropships making a staging point. Smuggled charges into a recon run returning to base, blew it to hell." Colonel Masters, formerly of the RAAF,
now freelance, smirked. "You're taking a hell of a risk Harris. I've worked out what you're up to, haven't shared it, but that means
others could."
"Pays well, good security, my employers aren't idiots," he shrugged. "What happened with you?"
"Arachnos set me up, had their moles in Longbow make things worse. Apparently, I have a Destiny, and they want to control it." Sword nodded, familiar
with the concept. "You here on your paying job, or something else?"
"Paying," Sword replied. "You heard about the mess in Overbrook?"
"Watched it on the large screen at base," he replied with a shrug. Sword smirked slightly. "The fey's approving retaliation?"
"I need to run it by her and the Sabre leader, but yeah. My call, my plans."
"And you come to me," Masters chuckled, waving down a waitress and ordering a beer. "Interesting choice."
"I need results," he shrugged. "The Infamous and the Legendary-allied groups have an odd relationship, and you're hardly a generic
supervillian." Masters nodded, conceding the point. "And in this case, you know the Raiders. Better then most heroes do."
"Tried to draft me a few times," he noted. "Bloody wankers don't get it. I've done a lot of things, but treason..." he took his
beer from the returning waitress, took a mouthful and frowned. "Aeon's Premium Beer. Worst thing about this damn island."
Sword laughed slightly. "We're after commanders. Some of their hideouts here and in Paragon, but overseas as well."
"You want to hit their African ops," Masters said, eyes gleaming.
"Here, it's about their little crusade," Sword said. "The fey wants me to hit their profit margin. Send a message."
The Australian soldier leaned back in his chair. "A lot of them would have a problem with that. No Medicomm over there. It's to the death." He
drank his beer for a moment. "Some of those Sabres, that radioactive girl you've shown an interest in maybe..."
"I was thinking you," Sword replied.
There was a pause, then Masters smirked. "Funny that. That was my payment. I can't take action against Arachnos here. I need to get off the isles.
Access my accounts, my supplies..."
"Your armor?" Sword asked.
Masters grinned back. "Well, it's worked for you, hasn't it?"
***
Aeon City was neat, tidy, and supposedly closely monitored by Arachnos soldiers. Despite a relatively high quality of life that could almost be compared to
Paragon, it was as much an odd mix of police state and anarchy-based dictatorship, with Arachnos-sponsored supervillians clashing with Gold Brickers, Luddites,
even Arachnos itself, in Recluses twisted idea of training.
As such, it was an odd location for Sell-Sword to be walking into a bar, even in casual clothes, his true face hidden behind a hologram. While his name and
face wasn't on the hero register, there was always the chance that Arachnos would have discovered it. Still, he wasn't showing any concern as he went
and sat at one of the back tables and waited.
Barely a minute later, another figure stepped through the doors and walked towards him without really pausing. A somewhat older man in his early forties,
wearing a faded leather jacket over a shirt and grey military pants, with a rather unremarkable face and a bit of grey in his hair.
"Afghan fields," he said as he sat down.
"Idiot fire blaster wannabe tried burning the crop," Sword replied. "We got the fuck out, left his stoned ass to the Taliban." He smiled
faintly and added, "Sydney."
"Twin dropships making a staging point. Smuggled charges into a recon run returning to base, blew it to hell." Colonel Masters, formerly of the RAAF,
now freelance, smirked. "You're taking a hell of a risk Harris. I've worked out what you're up to, haven't shared it, but that means
others could."
"Pays well, good security, my employers aren't idiots," he shrugged. "What happened with you?"
"Arachnos set me up, had their moles in Longbow make things worse. Apparently, I have a Destiny, and they want to control it." Sword nodded, familiar
with the concept. "You here on your paying job, or something else?"
"Paying," Sword replied. "You heard about the mess in Overbrook?"
"Watched it on the large screen at base," he replied with a shrug. Sword smirked slightly. "The fey's approving retaliation?"
"I need to run it by her and the Sabre leader, but yeah. My call, my plans."
"And you come to me," Masters chuckled, waving down a waitress and ordering a beer. "Interesting choice."
"I need results," he shrugged. "The Infamous and the Legendary-allied groups have an odd relationship, and you're hardly a generic
supervillian." Masters nodded, conceding the point. "And in this case, you know the Raiders. Better then most heroes do."
"Tried to draft me a few times," he noted. "Bloody wankers don't get it. I've done a lot of things, but treason..." he took his
beer from the returning waitress, took a mouthful and frowned. "Aeon's Premium Beer. Worst thing about this damn island."
Sword laughed slightly. "We're after commanders. Some of their hideouts here and in Paragon, but overseas as well."
"You want to hit their African ops," Masters said, eyes gleaming.
"Here, it's about their little crusade," Sword said. "The fey wants me to hit their profit margin. Send a message."
The Australian soldier leaned back in his chair. "A lot of them would have a problem with that. No Medicomm over there. It's to the death." He
drank his beer for a moment. "Some of those Sabres, that radioactive girl you've shown an interest in maybe..."
"I was thinking you," Sword replied.
There was a pause, then Masters smirked. "Funny that. That was my payment. I can't take action against Arachnos here. I need to get off the isles.
Access my accounts, my supplies..."
"Your armor?" Sword asked.
Masters grinned back. "Well, it's worked for you, hasn't it?"
***