[SC Only] Neon Demons, Guilded Shadows, And Fallen Gods.

[Auruum]

There are few places in the world that seem to embody Avarice, That showcase the sins of Industry, highlights the terrible costs of a society without true limitations. Few places that can rival the subterranean mega metropolis of Undermine. Here, in this realm of eternal night, Darkness is kept at bay constantly by a barrier of neon light, and yet the things that go bump in the night are often welcomed with open arms. Fortunes are won and lost with the flip of a coin, Dreams are crushed and then trampled by those in power only to be swept aside by another soulless husk with nothing left to hope for but the constant Chaotic Order.

For the Fringe elements of the Charter, the Maniacal, the Deranged, The Soulless, The Obsessed, And the Greedy, practically flock to the Goblins who promise open acceptance to those few who share their views and values. Scientists with interests that have been deemed too unethical for research, Can not only find their research funded, but also shared among others. Corporations wage wars with Boardroom meetings, Mergers, and the occasional firefight in the streets. The Rich build temples to their wealth in Olympian styled arcologies, while the poor are nothing but pawns in the game, Cogs that keep the machine working. Mercenaries are in constant demand. And there is no shortage of payment. Be it Favors, Drugs, Guns, or cold, hard cash.

But beneath the Glimmer and Shine, beneath even the grime and filth that lies behind the gilded mask, Dark things twist and writhe, Blood is spilled in the name of Dark Gods, Corporate CEOs, And Worse.

In this world, It doesn’t matter who or what you are...What matters is...

...What is Your Price?

[Myraxia]

The Hole doesn't look like much from the outside.

A single, flickering neon sign hanging limply at the threshold to an alleyway marked the entrance, a dimly lit staircase descending into the rock beneath the street. Past the orc bouncer that stood at the door, face locked in a permanent scowl, the inside doesn't do much to abuse any passing visitors of their initial impressions. A shoddily carved slab of bedrock serves as the bar, another orc scowling behind it, with a meager selection of alcohol on display behind her. Nothing especially impressive, to say the least. The clientele sit on a mix of carved boulders and a few wooden chairs which look to be held together with prayer and an inordinate amount of tape.
To the right of the bar, there is a heavy metal door, bolted and barred. Another orc stands before it, repelling casual observers through sheer intimidation. Occasionally, when someone descends the staircase into the Hole, the bartender will give this orc a nod. He will then open the door, granting the chosen individual access to the back room, before locking the door again behind them. This backroom is fondly known by it's patrons as "The Hole's Hole." Inside, the contrast to the outer room is startling. Here, the avarice that personifies Undermine can be seen clearly. The furnishings have quality, as does the carpeting. Another bar stands against one wall, this one far better stocked, and the others are lined with private, sealable booths for a more discerning class of customer. In the center of the room, several card tables fill the space, and another staircase leads down to a sub-level where certain... other, services can be obtained. The Hole's Hole caters to all desires.

It is here, perched on a bar stool, nursing a glass of hard whiskey, we find a man. Not an uncommon sight in Undermine, especially not these days - the city is full of every race of the Charter. To look at him, if you had to hazard a guess, you'd say he hailed from Rusina. Eastern Rusina, most probably, although it is often hard to tell. The jacket bundled under his stool offers few clues, being a uniform grey, but his voice as he calls for a refill from the goblin bartender offers more. The man is Myraxian. He is a regular here, although the staff do not know his name. To them, he is simply 'the Myraxian.' Many of the regulars here prefer to conceal their identities - many have their secrets to hide. This is always acceptable in the Hole's Hole. But they know his face, and they know that the Myraxian is a close friend of the owner. The Myraxian drinks on the house.

The owner - another goblin, who goes by Spraza - knows more. The Myraxian is Niryn Sykana, and he saved her life once. She has tried many times to pry information about his past from him over drinks, mostly to no avail. She knows he used to be a Spectre - an elite special forces operative - and that he presently describes himself as an 'Independent Operator'. She also knows he prefers to avoid contact with other Myraxians, and with official representatives of the MCF especially - going so far, in fact, to turn down all but the most lucrative jobs involving Xaman Systems (the Myraxian Corporate presence) here in Undermine. Spraza is no fool - she knows this means he is likely a defector. She also knows what the MCF does to defectors. There are no other Myraxians on the Hole's Hole guest list.

The Myraxian is between jobs at present. He is content with this. In Undermine, work of the sort he specializes in is never far away.

[Auruum]

Rare is it that anything happens without over a dozen or so people knowing all about it. Rob the wrong store on the wrong street, and Gangers will be all over it. Try to start up your own company with stolen Corporate secrets, Your Old Boss buries you in legal papers so deep you never see the outside again. So when some environmentalist research company called SPEAR sprung up out of nowhere in the middle of Undermine City, lots of folks got curious. Word on the Street says a lot of big shots, both Valari and Aurummite run the company, and keep some secret agenda from prying eyes.

But, there’s always a few people wanting to Pry. And Atleast one of them is willing to pay.

Today a message post showed up on a secure message board for Undermine’s Mercenary community. Where Johnsons Offer up Jobs and payment. This Job seemed pretty standard: Break into the SPEAR facility, snoop around, gather up anything of value, get out, get paid. The Johnson wants to meet those interested in person, specifically at the Celestial Garden Resort and Spa. There details would be provided and a Price negotiated.

The Resort itself was situated towards the Roof of the Cavern, like a Skyscraper hung upside down. The Poor could spend their year’s savings on one day of relaxation and bliss. The Wealthy have whole suites bought for their private use year round. It was owned and operated by Ral’Taka, otherwise known as ‘the Ice Queen’. A Troll Information Broker using the resort as a front while she connects Buyers and Sellers, Mercenaries with Johnsons. Despite being a Troll, Taka seems to have eyes and ears in many places. When people want to find someone or something, they all seek her out with large sums, and when someone doesn’t want to be found, they seek her out with even more money on hand.

[Valyrien]

A woman was sitting by the bar… Not the foxy lady dressed in a tight red dress kind of woman and not the fancier night club kind of bar, this was a spa after all. She was wearing a loose robe, allowing one to glimpse inked skin, especially as she sat leaned over with her elbows on the bar eating a club sandwich. The ashtray next to her was already stuffed with half a packet of cigarettes, a cartoon-ish illustrstion on the front of the pack, probably to entice a younger target market. The bar was in a corner of the large, but currently empty lounge where guests could have a bite in-between spa treatments. She’d turned down any kind spirit, to the surprise (not that he’d let it show) of the sharply dressed troll, who’d placed her appearance and accent in Northern Rusina, though she did order a cold beer after some consideration, but only then because it paired well with the food.

There was a story to be told here, if you were deeply familiar with the Northern most empire of Ruisna you’d be able to read it. Unlike her fellow classmates who bought the glory of the Empress and Black Sun hook, line and sinker, she wanted nothing to do with Valyrien, there was no other reason to leave Rusina. Since simply packing your things and leaving poses a slight problem in a state where servitude to Empire is expected to last throughout one’s life, one had to be the hard as nails kind of gal and creative to find ways to disappear. There existed a sort of unspoken rule allowing the rebellious and troublemakers to leave without causing friction in the grand machinery, but it included giving up all the privileges and status afforded a soldier in the regular army and join a mercenary group dirt poor, and then slowly start fading out of society till you could slip away, something that would take years, perhaps even decades. However there existed a faster, but riskier way if you’d managed to establish some connections in the “unofficial” army, as the fanged skull on her neck would suggest.

”Ja.. Seems about right…” The woman muttered under her breath, watching the newsfeed on her newly aquired Copperstone smartphone. She’d left Vastmark, continuing south to the Iron Isle and made a small name for herself in the bare-knuckle fistfights, but it still wasn’t far enough to escape the sickly influence of the heartland. Aurum, she had thought… Live out life with goblins, orcs and trolls like something straight out of a fairy-tail, a world away from the Imperium’s ideals amongst those it had deemed lesser lifeforms when they had emerged some ten odd years ago. Now plans were being made and a treaty finalised for them to joined the fucking Empire, it felt like a bad joke.

[Iryllia]

Dreams of avarice. Dreams wilder than any man could dream.

This was not the realm of men.

A woman stood in the smoke filled nights air, her browned skin illuminated by the gently smouldering end of her cigarette. Black hair spilling over a red dress. A lot of looks were sent her way, Orcs, Goblins... Men. Her glow mimicked that of the solitary star fighting its way through the pollution clogging the air. It was hot, it was dirty. Loud and obnoxious. Most importantly though, it was filthy stinking rich.

The orcs scowl followed her in, the gaze of those not passed out in a puddle of liquor also. It led to the door. This girl in a red dress stared down this Orc who could snap her in two without a thought. The orc stepped aside, the bolts drew open and the metal bulkhead swung inwards. No looks back, the glimpse of a far lavisher place disappeared behind the swinging door.

She certainly seemed to attract attention, which was kind of the point. Any new face would garner a look or two. The red drew the eye, to the body, the face and back down again. A heel clacked down onto the floor, a leg pushing aside the folds of the dress. The eyes followed, the woman stared back as she strode towards the bar, the goblin behind it and the man at it. He did not look up as she sat next to him. The bartender raised a lazy eye at the two coins now on the table. Ruons? How quaint. No one uses those anymore. A drink was however provided and as the bartender turned back, a folder was slipped in front of the man, where the hell was she carrying that? Was it with her the whole time? Must have been. She shrugged, stranger people have come and gone from her establishment. More curious were her words, not unfamiliar but the accent. Not one you'd hear being so polite to a Myraxian.

"My name is Ilya Halaventa Kalenkova, and I have a job for you."

[Myraxia]

The Myraxian didn't react for several seconds, savouring the last of his drink. When he did turn to face the woman, one eyebrow raised, he spent a few more seconds looking her up and down. "That, " he paused to down the dregs of his glass, "is a very funny way of pronouncing 'Johnson'." He reached for the folder, and began flipping through it. "Anything good in here? Care to give me the highlights, save the effort?"
It was strange, he mused. New people didn't come in here often. He wondered who she really was, behind the long Iryllian name, and behind the eye-catching dress. He briefly wondered who she was under said dress as well, before pushing that out of his mind. Not with a Johnson.

[Iryllia]

"Not a Johnson, not quite." She fixed a glare on the Myraxian, "I've got advanced warning that someone wants to break into a certain facility, sneak around, steal some shit. Usual business. Run by some Valari and Gobbos. They got something going on, some people want to know. All in the document. If you have any problems doing jobs for Ral'Taka feel free to walk away." She said, while walking to the door. Drink down her throat, class thrown to the floor as she exited the large door, along with the tinkle more coins on the floor. "To the Spa Mr. Myraxian, others will be waiting."

[Asgareth]

Nelvarn Yeltsin studied his ale cautiously. He had been sipping the same drink for over an hour; surprised at how a nation could apparently be called developed, and yet fail to make a decent ale.The greying man watched as goblins and humans spoke and drank. He’d never been one for socialising, at least not for personal gain. A renowned black market smuggler, at least in Asgareth, he had never quite learned the delicacies when it came to social interaction. His business talk was smart; indeed it was a rare day when Nelvarn didn’t find some way of catching a deal.

Now, some may question what Nelvarn was doing so far from home. His journey to Aurum had been one of betrayal, misfortune and luck. To tell such a tale, a brief jump back in time must be achieved.

When E-day occurred, over a decade ago, Nelvarn had been smuggling a containment of mammoth tusks from Drekhi, with his older brother Pavori. Upon their return, Nelvarn learnt of this strange little nation, filled to the brim with strange little green creatures. Instantly, he sensed an opportunity. Unfortunately for Nelvarn, he had been unable to capitalise on the opportunity. He had been incarcerated briefly afterwards, after his brother went to the police. Serving four, of the seven years, upon his return he found himself penniless, and homeless. Swiftly, he fell back to smuggling. His gaze fell south, to the Soup, a strange little place in Iryllia. After a dozen successful smuggling runs, he once again found himself incaracerated- this time for attempting to smuggle dragon eggs. Nelvarn escaped prior to trial, and fled east, through Epilo, and onto Meridia. Finally, after weeks of travel, he had arrived in Aurum.

And so here he was, in some strange little bar- or at least a pathetic attempt at a bar; where were the tv’s showing griffin fighting? And why was the ale so poor? Nelvarn was convinced he could make a better ale out of rocks, than the serving they offered here. However, Nelvarn was not here to drink. He had heard from a friend, of a friend, of a friend, of a friend, that Undermine had transformed itself into the new hub of underworld activity. And he needed a job.

Nelvarn had journeyed half way across the world, with little knowledge of what he would find when he arrived at his destination. Coming across Undermine had been something of an upturn in luck for Nelvarn. Whilst his main occupation was that of a smuggler, he was more than happy as a jack of all trades. Money laundering? Check. Thief? Check. Hitman? Nelvarn had notched up 231 confirmed kills during his adult life.

He had been sat quietly at the bar for an hour or so, patiently listening in to conversations, in an attempt to find out the kinda of work available. He didn’t gather much, but a few words kept being brought up.
“Johnson…Ral’Taka… SPEAR.”

Having heard these three words plenty of times, he cautiously approached the bartender, who merely huffed in his direction upon his asking.
“Ah come now, my friend. What is a Ral’Taka? Some form of demon? I can slay that. Just get me in contact with Mr.Johnson. I’m sure his company SPEAR will be more than happy to –“
The bartender, a short goblin- of course all goblins are short, this one just seemed shorter than most-, cut Nelvarn off.
“If you knew what was good for you, you’d back away now.”
Nelvarn chuckled. “That a threat?” He reached into his bag, and pulled out a small pouch. Chucking it over, he asked “What’s the word on the street?”
“What’s your hurry outsider?” the goblin replied, before he picked up the pouch. “Ah Imperial Stars. You an Asgarthian? I ate one of those once.”
Nelvarn smiled, before replying “So about this job?”
“You blind or something?” the bartender asked. “You not noticed the board? Go to the spa. That’s all I know.”

Nelvarn glanced over and chuckled, as he noticed a large message board. He nodded his head appreciatively, but turned just as he was about to step outside.
“Say… where is the spa?”

The bartender rolled his eyes, before giving Nelvarn directions. Nelvarn swiftly took off towards the bar, whilst the bartender murmured to himself “Taka is going to eat that one alive.”

[Auruum]

The Resort was situated at the upper levels of the Undermine Cavern. The easiest ways were through the many honeycombed tunnels dug into the walls and ceilings, closest to the surface world was the entrance. With many levels protruding down from the roof of the Cavern and dangling over the lower levels of the city. The ‘Penthouse’ being the lowest point of the building, the very tip of the artificial stalactite it was also Ral’Taka’s personal suite and where the office she did the bulk of her work was located. The Troll stood in the observatory room, a large upside down dome of thick windows with a view of the entire Cavern.

As those who found interest in the job arrived, or continued to enjoy the resort’s services, a simple utterance of ‘I’m expected’ or any other variation caused the Staff to bow respectfully and notify Ral’Taka of her guests. She’d send her employees back to tell the others she’d meet them in an hour’s time, giving them a chance to explore or come up with plans, or enjoy the much nicer, and more expensive bar. All around them, the rich were pampered and the poor spent what little money they had to get a fraction of the pampering. Well dressed and groomed employees catered to most every need, with other ‘needs’ being paid for upfront in secret. Classical music played all throughout the resort as crystal statues of Ral’Taka looked over the guests as a benevolent goddess.

After the wait, employees would seek out the Mercenaries and escort them towards the Celestial Gardens, a large indoor garden, or park, all well cared for and beautiful, featuring flowers and trees from all over the Charter. The Centerpiece being a large Ice Sculpture of a Wooly Ox, Ral’Taka seeming to inspect the sculpture with her hands.

The Troll was both intimidating, as she was captivating She stood a towering nine feet tall, with skin the color of frozen silver, and her Elephant-like tusks, which protruded straight forward from her upper jaw before curving up, Were adorned with silver and sapphire rings. Diamond and crystal gems dangled from her white dress. Her hair, the only thing not white or silver on her being a dark black color, was braided together and swayed as she’d turn to greet her guests, Piercing blue eyes scanning them all, as her blue lipstick clad lips curled into a predatory smile.

“Welcome...To the Celestial Garden Resort...”

[Enfaru]

Getting a Tai-Rukan out of Tai-Ruka was no easy feat, for the civil wars still raged and there was plenty of profit to be made. Yet from time to time a job would come by that piqued the interest of the Merchant Guild and they would put out the feelers for anyone who would be interested. Z'yen Taldor was a slight individual, which a chiseled almost gaunt complexion, contrasting with the bright blue of his eyes. Carrying a baton on his right hip and what looked like a fire arm on his left it was clear he didn't go anywhere unprotected, especially in Auruum. He got the message posted directly to his communication device, a small rectangular thing that fit neatly inside his jacket pocket.

He'd taken the short cut and neglected to drop into the various bars, instead taking the winding back alley routes to his destination. From time to time he would stop and discuss in hushed voices with those also down the alley ways. Whether he was asking for directions or something else wasn't quite clear. He slipped in a side door of the resort choosing to avoid the well lit hustle and bustle of the main entrance and made his way inside just in time to see the benefactor of this particular job or so it seemed enter what looked to be the main gardens. There were guards of course but it seemed like tonight there was an open invitation to any who were interested. No doubt someone would the benefactor know of his presence.

Z'yen listened carefully as she spoke, welcome the various 'guests' that had gathered. The voice was quite distinctive particularly for a Troll, it was after all rare to hear such refinement in the voice of an instinctual predator. What particularly caught his eye was her height. Trolls were to his mind no small creatures, at over three meters tall she was certainly imposing even from as far back as he was.

[Myraxia]

The bar at the Celestial Garden had a reputation, one he'd been meaning to look into himself for some time, so it was no great chore for the Myraxian to attend Ral'Taka's little meeting. It was rumored the bar even stocked Farian Chocolate Brandy, although that was so rare these days it was unlikely there was any truth to the rumors. Just an urban legend, as it were. He'd made an effort to scrub up somewhat, although not going as far as the black tie some of the guests around him were wearing.
He cast his eyes around the bar. A tattooed woman at the bar caught his attention - hard to miss the ink, it definitely made her stand out - as did a man skulking at the back. He didn't recognize either, although the man at least was clearly armed. A particularly loud Asgarthian hovered in the vicinity of the bar, as well - no surprises there.
Ral'Taka, on the other hand, caught the attention of most everyone in the room when she entered. The Myraxian had seen her picture before, of course - she'd appeared in the papers more than once - but it didn't nearly do her nine foot tall form justice. One didn't expect a fashion sense from a troll, either, but there it was.
He settled in to his whiskey and listened to what she had to say.

[Auruum]

The Troll seemed to scan over each one, smiling sweetly at each of them, here eyes seeming to rest on the Myraxian just a bit longer before her hands clapped together "Right...Straight to business shall we?" She started "I'm sure all of you have heard of the new SPEAR environmentalist group run jointly by Aurummite and Valarisk people? The one that just...sprung up out of nowhere? My Client is convinced its a Front and wants to know what for. You are being hired to break into the local SPEAR facility, find what dirty secret they are hiding, then bring to them. Payment offered is ten thousand for each of you. In whatever currency you desire." she said before leaning back on her hands against the statue's base.

"Questions?"

[Iryllia]

The Iryllian woman had arrived mildly late to proceedings, though no one noticed her entrance. The goblin giving the brief certainly didn't. If anything it seemed she had always been there. In the side just watching. Her eyes glanced over all present. The Myraxian from the Hole. Good. A... Tai-Rukan? unusual but nothing unheard of in this city. Asgarthian... Everywhere, and drunk everywhere. And a... Valari. Empty eyes. Just like the Myraxians. And her own... A city many years ago flashed before her eyes. Destroyed. Ravaged. The fucking howling of those dogs. The beginning of the gobbo's speech washed over her as she was immersed in a memory that felt almost alien to her. The dogs. That tattoo. The propganda videos of her crucified squad mates. The scars all over her body, hidden by her dress, itched. Not one she'd be cutting in. She refocused. Just as the Gobbo was asking "Questions?"

"Yes." She replied. "Floor plans, staff manifests, guard patrols. Security information. The usual stuff or do you just expect us to go in and die?"

[Asgareth]

Nelvarn Yeltsin listened to the troll, half-heartedly. That was, at least, until she mentioned payment.
“10,000?” He asked, as his interest piqued. “Well, you might as well tell this lot to head on home. I’ll be in and out in 15.” He chuckled, as he looked around at his new companions, who looked far from impressed. “Ah, it was only a joke. Some of you could prove to be useful, I’m sure.”

He looked back at the troll. He had never heard of SPEAR before, but a Valarisk organisation, no matter how green, could spell trouble. It was not his business to meddle, however. That was more his sister’s- the detectives- field. His interest was financial, through and through. He cared little for the legality of SPEAR’s business, as long as it made him a quick buck
“No questions here, my…” Nelvarn paused “… dear” He grimaced. “Sounds like fun.”
He paused for a moment. “Well hold on, should one of us be caught, or… unfortunately killed… am I right in assuming the rest of us will be awarded their share as well? I hope it doesn’t happen, of course… but it may ease the passing of a friend.”

[Enfaru]

Z'yen wore clothing typical of the central wastes of Tai-Ruka, the place everyone was fighting over but no one could win. Sure they didn't look too out of place, the trousers were loose, his boots were of the hard wearing variety, but his jacket was quite short, almost modern. A simple lightweight thing that he typically wore semi loose. He had watched crowd as it gathered, he himself looked at them wondering whether they had any idea what they were getting themselves into. Even raiding the Iron Harbour wasn't easy even with a bunch of hardened mercenaries. SPEAR on the other hand was known and capable organization that went far beyond anything the Iron Harbour had to offer after all it was a new project, well funded, better resourced and politically sensitive.

He had his destination and his objective... so why on Origin was he still here. That's right, he didn't know the precise destination. It wasn't as though SPEAR was a covert organization through. The task, to find out what secret they were harboring was simple data retrieval. There were many routes he could obtain such information. Attempt to hack into the network, acquire the data and return. Sneak in as one of the workers, plant bugs and listen for gossip but he had a feeling that this was going to be more of a black ops job this time around. Gain entry, enter rooms that were off limits, take incontrovertible evidence and return...a simple burglary. The question was what kind of secret were they really after? Z'yen doubted it was for the greater good and that meant potential leverage.

Choosing not to ask a question Z'yen, bowed his head, turned and exited the same way he came. It was time to do hit the streets.

[Auruum]

The Iryllian spoke up first, asking the usual questions which brought a smile to the Troll’s face, that is until Nelvarn spoke up. Her attention turned to him and the gaze was quite cold. “Yeltsin isn’t it? Nelvarn Yeltsin? You will be paid what you earn. No more, and no less. If you fuck up this job...” she snapped her fingers and the ice sculpture’s head fell and landed in front of her, snapping one of it’s horns off before she almost lazily put her foot on the head and crushed it, further scattering the ice shards “...Understood?” She asked before casting the gaze to the others. A moment of confusion as one just up and left. Nevertheless, she continued “Should the worst happen and you perish, the others will not be getting your share of payment. You are all experienced Mercenaries, or At least you should be. This is the job.”

“As for the usuals. We of course have the floor plans but they seem to be incomplete. The main building is mainly administration as far as we can tell, call and organization centers, boardrooms. Nothing out of the ordinary, except in the basement there seems to be a small hallway that just trails off. That’s where you’ll likely find the dirty secrets. Staff manifests are also similarly clean, all basic wage-slaves, all background checks turning up nothing of import. The security detail however, Basic Aurummite Bruisers hired by SPEAR with a selection of Valarisk security forces backing them up. A bit too much firepower for a company supposedly making the world a greener and cleaner world, don’t you think? Prepare accordingly.”

“Any other Questions?”

[Myraxia]

At least some of his compatriots were asking the right questions. The Iryllian, as expected from his initial impression of her, seemed to know what she was doing, albeit somewhat lacking in the focus department. The Asgarthian, though... loud, brash - pretty much a walking stereotype. And a little too eager for cash. He'd need an eye kept on him.

The Myraxian raised two fingers. "Questions here. What about gear? Are you providing, or are we? And secondly, how... subtle, let's say, do you want this to be? Say we're in and out without anyone even noticing we were there," he paused, and glanced disparagingly at the Asgarthian. "is there a bonus clause in the contract?"

[Valyrien]

Astrid turned and briefly met the eyes of the Iryllian, for a moment it was as if the truth had been laid bare. You could see it in the eyes, there was something missing deep down, something left behind on those streets choked with blood and dust, a part of the soul Rygan had demanded as tribute like one of the dead gods in the depths of the Witch Sea. The few left untouched was those with nothing to take, people with identical tattoos as her own that had feed on the carnage, subjecting those dumb enough to fight the Imperium to immolation, crucifixion and Damnatio ad bestias, to be torn to shreds by the Valari trench wolves… At least, that was her initial impression, maybe she forgot her glasses and now had trouble focusing her gaze?

There was something reliable about Myraxians, at least those Astrid had met seemed mentally stable and had a certain professional efficiency about them.
“Ja... Same question here.” The woman uttering her first words, looking rather smashing with the spa robe and trousers underneath combo, coat and shirt rolled up neatly into a bundle underneath her arm. The whole look gave the impression of someone having been thrown out of a hotel room or other equally respectable establishment.
“If not, I’m certain we could manage.. The market should be filling with the surplus military equipment from your new overlords at this very moment.”

The whole thing gave her a bad feeling, a joint Aurummite – Valari enviromental initiative? There was definitely something shady going on, question was if it was organised crime using it as a front, dumb enough to operate in the open with Valyrien moving in next door.

[Auruum]

Ral'Taka smiled again, a small chuckle escaping her lips as she looked at the Myraxian. "A Myraxian mercenary without gear of his own? In Aurum no less? Surely you jest?" another chuckle before she'd wave her hand dismissively. "Oh of course I have some gear around here, though if you cant find enough weapons and armor to wage a small war in Aurum, You are quite deaf, dumb, and blind..." she remarked, bringing her attention to the Valari. "Now now, dear, Leave Politics to Politicians. The Big Six haven't sold their power to your former Empress, Merely choosing to work together. There are much worse treaties to sign than the one they did. I hear Myraxia's MESZ agreement is quite...Demanding." She gave a shrug and spread her arms out to either side. "That said, the market for weapons is quite flooded as of late, Low, low prices for Military Spec gear nowadays..."

She finally moved forwards leading them deeper into the resort, past the suites where the residents stayed and even past the staff areas, where the real business took place. Here Ral'Taka's employees sifted through information, contacted or answered contacts from clients or informants. They soon entered a room where quite a few armed men and women were stocking up several weapon racks. Quite typical for the usual Weapons Dealer set up. Everything from Civillian small arms, to Military grade Grenade Launchers and Heavy Machine Guns. "Take what you wish but I expect purchases to be made. If not the return of any loaners you take. And to answer your question about how loud you can be. The Client just wants to know that SPEAR is hiding, Make sure theres no line between you and me, but theres no stated Preference on how loud or quiet you can be. Storm the Castle or Hack the Door open. It doesn't matter. Just bring them Proof that SPEAR is a front and what it is truly doing while it pretends to help save the planet from greenhouse gases. Then you get paid. Easy."

[Enfaru]

Z'yen by this time had made his way out of the compound, down a half lit side street through into the back streets of the local downtown industrial area. There were always places like this no matter which country you went to, no matter how low the crime rate, the grey area was always there and with the right contacts you could access information, tools, equipment, transport. Mostly these places were used to acquire illicit drugs, why else would there be several warehouse distribution units.

The nearest SPEAR center would not be hard to find, but he needed information and possibly access, that could mean getting his hands dirty and if he needed to get his hands dirty he was going to need better equipment than he currently had at hand, equipment that was off the grid. He turned into a scrap yard, transport first.

Scrap yards or breakers yards, where all things worth their weight end up to be recycled into spare parts or something more useful. Most things were not beyond repair, just uneconomical for the majority of people to continue to run when they could get a replacement at less cost and so the scrap merchants turned a profit. One spot light lit the piles of scrap and yet to be reclaimed materials, a path weaved between towards an old garage further in, a light flickering in the window.