Mikhail Olegovich, third in line for the Broken Fang was feeling rather confused and, frankly, pissed. Standing over the corpses of a couple dozen uppity soldiers who could barely even pronounce the name of the clan they came from, Mikhail was slowly donning a new disguise, one he hoped was unneeded but was practically guaranteed at that point. The dead men before him had recognized his augmentations and challenged him to a duel, which had gone about as well as one would expect when trying to fight a man titled ‘One-Shot’. Still, a chance to feed Cassaria’s bloodlust was always nice – the power blade had been dry for months.

  Mikhail was growing tired of the disguises and uniforms, but needed them for just a bit longer, if for no other reason than to confirm his suspicions. Still, in some ways, he was glad everything was ending. If only he had been in on the plan to start attacking at random as soon as H&H arrived. In his mind, this ‘attack’, if it could be called that, was just wild flailing, one that served no purpose. Mikhail had made great progress with a certain Rexia about recruiting some of their faction into the Doctrine, or at least to assist the Broken Fang. The other clans, those who had hidden with H&H’s crew, were doing their best to ruin Mikhail’s plans however.

  Rubbing the brow of his nose, he was frankly sick of it all. Eventually, his second in command in this mission, the one he trusted above all others stuck his head into the room.

  “Um, sir?” He had a quiver in his voice. Mikhail considered himself kind to his underlings, though not everyone got that impression.

  “Yes, Matvey, what is it?” Mikhail turned to face him. Oh, that was right. The skin on his face was currently removed for adjustment, revealing the integrated metal and raw augments underneath. That would explain his look of terror. That and the corpses. Cassaria had been messy, naughty girl.

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  “We, um, have just received word that the backup will be moving in.”

  “Backup?” What the hell? Mikhail knew that the crew of H&H, even with lower predictions of Doctrine infiltration rates, would likely have a few traitors here and there as a reserve if resistance was too strong. But backup? And where from?

  “Yes sir. A message from Zafar Ironskin of Hideki’s Mercy.”

  Oh, for fucks sake. Mikhail held the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. He needed to move before that moron entered the system.

  “Matvey, listen to me carefully. Contact our Cambiar sympathizers, the ones who agree with us and ready a shuttle for departure in the hanger. We’ll meet up on their main ship and leave together. Get the rest of our forces to follow. If you can, avoid killing anymore corpos or Cambiar, they’re not the target. Clansfolk are fine though.” Mikhail sighed heavily. This was not his day. “Are you ready?”

  Matvey smirked, saluted, and left the room as Mikhail continued adjusting his new disguise. Any long-term plans that involved blending in and improving relations had gone out the window. Zafar was coming, and that required changing his whole schedule. If that berserker was due to arrive soon, he now had a rough idea of what the Jade Emperor was planning. Damn that rotten husk.

  With a deep sigh, he replaced his face, making sure the muscles all lined up, before standing. His Hullbuster revolver was itching for battle, and Cassaria was ever hungry for blood. It was time to see if the other clans deserved their place, and whether the newcomers to the party could handle the heat. Preparing his gear, and flexing his cybernetics, a simple thought came to him.

  “I wonder if Sal’s still alive?” Mikhail thought aloud.