“I’m Captain Cisneros. You can call me Eli.”

  “My name is Anara,” the woman in the robes and mask said, “Where’s your ship?”

  “It’s close. Where’s the principle?”

  “They are also close,” she countered.

  Eli smiled wide, “Let’s go get them,” then he spoke into the com link, “I’ve made contact with the bodyguard. She’s going to take me to the principle.”

  Tarl and Gami acknowledged the update. Without a word, Anara began to walk. Staying just as silent, Eli followed her. She took a long, winding route back to the elevator, which they entered. Anara suddenly took on a defensive stance, arms held out.

  “One friendly coming up,” Gami called out.

  The blur of her camo entered the elevator and took position against one of the walls. Anara followed the invisible woman’s every move.

  “It’s okay,” Eli said, “She’s part of my crew.”

  The bodyguard relaxed, used one of her gloved hands to punch the button for the top floor. No visible skin, just a humanoid being. For all he knew, there was another human under all of that fabric.

  “So,” Eli began, “How’d you get involved in this? The broker hire you?”

  “No. I met the person that we’re helping and decided to support them. Several others have done the same.”

  “Why? What kind of trouble are they in?”

  “I won’t say for security reasons, and you know it, mercenary.”

  “Hey, I was just curious. If you think it puts them in danger, then keep it to yourself. And I might be a merc, but I always try to do the right thing. A friend of mine said that this was for a good cause. So, I’ll do my best to get them to the Funhouse.”

  “But the money certainly doesn’t hurt,” the robed woman commented.

  “Exactly,” Eli said with a sneer.

  The elevator doors opened. Eli stepped out, surveying the area. The same hustle and bustle greeted him. Anara stepped past him and went down a nearby alleyway. The gun for hire followed her, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, eyes shifting around.

  They headed into an adjoining alleyway. It was covered in trash. Steam from an unseen subsystem drifted up, slowly dissipating.

  It took Eli a few seconds to pick out the person that sat against one of the walls. He was humanoid, covered in ragged gray clothing. His face was also covered. This mask looked to have been quickly sewn from a few pieces of random cloth. A pair of eyeholes had been cut out of it. There was a prominent green stain on the left side of his neck, which Eli guessed was blood.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Anara came to a halt in front of the man, “He has decided to go by the name Savaa.”

  Eli nodded at him, “Pleased to meet you, Savaa. I’m Eli.”

  The man in the rags spoke, his voice sounded youthful, but tinged by a harshness, “I appreciate what you are doing, Eli.”

  The words sounded weird to Eli’s ears, like every other syllable was missing. This was despite the fact that he didn’t even know what language the man was speaking.

  “It’s no problem. Come on, lets get to my ship.”

  Savaa stood up. He put on a backpack, which was in good enough condition that it clashed with his attire.

  Gami spoke over the com, “We’ve got a problem. I’ve spotted a pair of men on the street.”

  “What do they look like?”

  “Full armor, painted crimson. They are clearly searching for someone.”

  “What’s wrong?” Anara asked.

  Eli explained the situation.

  “It’s them,” Savaa said, “They found me.”

  “Let’s get to the ship. What’s the quickest way out of here?”

  Anara started heading back the way they had come, “Follow me.”

  Eli took up the rear, taking the occasional glance backward. Anara peeled off her gloves and let them fall. Her hands were a vivid shade of purple.

  The trio went up and down alleys, seemingly turning at random. They cut across one of the stall-lined pathways. Anara started to go left, but suddenly turned right. Eli caught a quick glimpse of someone in red blocking that passageway. Gami was calling out hostiles on the com, but the group was moving too quickly for him to warn Anara.

  They neared one of the tower’s exits, were forced to turn around and go the other way because it was blocked by a line of crimson clad figures. Moving at an even faster pace, they made their way to another exit, found that it too was being guarded. The trio entered a clearing and suddenly found themselves surrounded on all sides. Understanding the danger, the shoppers and venders that were nearby fled.

  The hostiles were armored from head to toe. It was painted bright red, as if they wished to invite their enemy’s wrath. Shield projectors sat on their left thighs. Shoulder insignia in white, a twisting spiraling thing, a symbol for that which hunts evil. The faceplates on their helmets were all identical, soulless optic systems and decals that formed a standardized version of warpaint.

  The red clad fighters carried weapons that formed a binary between that which was lethal and nonlethal. On their left hip, a sheath containing a long blade. A small, subdued symbol on it warned that it contained poison. On their right hip, a stun baton. They carried carbines with a set of stacked barrels. The top barrel was fed by a powerpack. The lower barrel was fed by a magazine.

  “Hand him over,” one of them commanded.

  Eli gave them a half-smile, “Not gonna happen.”

  With one fluid motion, Anara removed the mask, and tore off the robes. Her skin had a shiny, waxy appearance. Her entire body was that vivid shade of purple. Her face was without features, a total blank. The same was true for the rest of her body, only simple feminine curves. The waxy woman stood there like a mannequin, faceless, hairless, featureless.

  There was a pistol holster on her right thigh. It was a piece of rigid black plastic that wrapped part way around her leg. There were pouches for several extra mags on it. Eli realized that there wasn’t any straps securing it to her. The more he looked at it, the more it started to look like it was actually imbedded just under the surface of her skin.

  Something was sticking out of the back of the strange woman’s head. Again, it seemed to be sitting just out of the surface. It was a smooth metal rectangle, in mat black. Little yellow symbols were painted on it. The translator, the tadvash, told him that they identified the thing as a personal shield projector.

  Silver cylinders slid out of the top of her wrists, sat there half submerged. Eli realized that one end was open, the thing was a barrel, or to be more precise, a weapon that was cylindrical in shape. Bursts of white light shot out of them, the blasts striking the enemy, taking shield charges.

  Eli took his hands out of the pockets of his trench coat, producing a pair of small handguns. He took aim and emptied them into one of the beings in the crimson armor.