Data file R-2: “Slick Jones”
[Captain Benjamin Jones, better known as “Slick Jones”, is a former military officer who retired an unknown number of years ago. He currently commands the mercenary faction known as the “Shining Forge.” Eyewitness accounts say he currently defies the original mercenary code and organizes harmful black market operations, but they lack any conclusive evidence to support such a claim. To many, he is seen as a philanthropist of sorts, and treating him as such means gaining favor and power from him, if one can also turn a blind eye to the rumors.]
***
Rasil scowled out the window of the chopper as they began the flight to the meeting. Gears seemed concerned, a little, but more so amused by his friend’s suffering at the horrid hands of formality. Rasil’s own seat was angled away, towards the side and out of Gears’s immediate vision, but Gears could just lean forward and face his periphery anyway. Rasil’s foot tapped on the ground arrhythmically, just an attempt to zone out somehow. When that didn’t work, he let out an audible sigh followed by a determined huff, hoping Helios would pick up on it.
“Ooooh!” Helios chimed as he noticed the plight, “Rasil’s havin' a staring contest with the window again.” Rasil suppressed a laugh. Gears rolled his eyes as Helios flew to Rasil’s shoulder. Helios began looking back and forth between Rasil and the glass. He rambled excitedly, inserting his ridiculousness by force, “The intensity of that stare has increased since last time; he may yet win this one!”
Rasil smiled and covered his mouth while still maintaining his stare at the window. Helios continued, “The fighters are equally matched this time for sure, the window’s five-to-zero winning streak is dangling by a thread!” He swung his head back at Gears and shouted, “Ten bucks says the glass breaks this time!”
Gears gave the two a look of disappointment one would give to children for being, well, children. Helios met his glance and beckoned him silently to join. Smirking, Gears shook his head before replying, “It’s a bet, but the glass has never lost a battle, and it would be a shock for it to lose its winning streak now.”
Helios’s eyes gave a smile brighter than any human could give, then he contested, “Ain’t no way! Rasil’s glare could break any glass.”
Gears shot back, “That remains to be seen.”
“Does not! Rasil’s eyes are red with intensity!” Helios emphasized.
“They are always red, Helios.”
“Whaaaaaaaaat?” Helios remarked as he rotated his head back around to face Rasil, “No, they aren’t!”
At this point, he could hold it no longer. He laughed, blinked, and looked away from the window. “Noooooooo!” Helios groaned, “The glass won again!”
“Yep,” Gears replied, unable to hide his amused snort. He then sent Rasil a brief nod as all three recovered, as if to say, ‘We have your back.’ Despite their jabs, this little team was still the best Rasil could ask for.
***
They arrived at the same time as Sophia, with her royal convoy, and landed on the meeting building’s luxurious helipad. Special lightposts extended any time a hover vehicle approached, helping to guide their sometimes-volatile antigravity flight and ensure a safe landing. When the chopper landed alongside the noticeably sleeker royal transport, the transport's silvery gray metal made the Spearhead’s dark green paint look drab by comparison. Gears just leaned back in his seat, let out a preparatory breath, and began connecting to the building’s defense system. Rasil always justified bringing Gears and Helios to these events as extra security—Jason, in turn, had negotiated access to automated defenses—so they had decided to make themselves useful and equip everyone with hidden comlinks. Helios had even decided to help by providing surveillance from the skies, which also allowed him to soar around without being questioned. Gears, meanwhile, was resolved to sit alone in his precious chopper, observing the turret controls and cameras. Rasil began to realize now that the three of them were more prepared for a battle than a party, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way.
As Rasil walked down the exit ramp and quickly made his way to Sophia, she spotted the dark gray-plated royal armor he was wearing and gave a warm smile of approval. Royal guards swiftly surrounded the queen and prince in that bubble of protection that royalty is owed when away from home, and Jason handed Sophia her staff before stepping back to give the two “space,” or at least seven feet of clearance. They began walking in with the rest of the crowd.
Rasil leaned over to Sophia, noting the classical architecture, high ceiling, and the familiarity of the venue, and recalled seeing it from a distance previously. He asked Sophia, “Who’s hosting this meeting?”
“Slick Jones.” She replied with sarcastic reverence.
“Bleck," Rasil muttered.
“Exactly," she chuckled. She knew, just as well, the counterproductive and sometimes treacherous things Slick Jones did outside the law, but he had a clean, powerful public image. It bordered on diplomatic immunity at times. Aside from Helios’s testimony from his own mercenary days, there was nothing Rasil could do but wait and hope Slick never abandoned the Mercenary Code or did anything seriously bad..
Waiting and hoping, that’s half of a soldier’s job anyway.
***
Time seemed to blur as if Rasil was holding the Shadowbane Amulet again. Citizens mingled in a wide variety of formal outfits and armor (suitable vestments for soldiers and mercenaries alike), and before he knew it, several hours had passed. Slick Jones, sporting a wide-brimmed hat and his signature long coat, had greeted all the guests and made a big show of everything. He really did sell the whole ‘I care about everyone!’ act, but Rasil knew the man’s honor and protectiveness to primarily be for his own and their friends. An understandable notion, but tribalism didn’t exactly help much, as far as Rasil was concerned. On this night, the meeting involved additional funding from the government towards the mercenary faction leaders. This was the way people like Slick Jones rendered assistance and support to the kingdom’s well-being, as the faction leaders then posted bounties on racazoid targets or bases, the payment facilitated by them through the royalty’s generosity.
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
When they weren’t fighting each other, that is...
It was a simple matter to renew the agreement. The formal discussion had come and gone with surprising speed, thank goodness, and Sophia since finished the meeting and joined the afterparty with everyone else.
Everyone except Rasil, that is. His own sister had abandoned him to the crushing jaws of extroverted society, and his only defense was to stick near a wall and hope no one saw him. Small talk would only make the situation more frustrating. But then, through the shifting crowd, he saw someone.
He saw someone different from the rest, both in dress and demeanor. She stood about his height, maybe the same age, even. She wore a silver evening gown with a turquoise blue trim around the edges, and had elbow-length gray gloves to match it. Her legs sported black stockings and bright silver heels. Her wavy bob of blonde hair, wispy and softly curled at the tips, glistened along with the dress. The look was rounded out by a turquoise blue hair clip, a small engraving of a lily visible on its surface (at least to Rasil’s farsighted eyes). Such a look was simultaneously appropriate but less than typical on Aljia, as one never wanted to wear bright clothing or draw attention to oneself.
There was something else special about her, though.
Rasil watched from behind a corner, amazed, as he realized it was her demeanor. She was observing, analyzing. Rather than talking, she simply leaned against a wall, waiting and avoiding conversation. She glanced not with boredom, but with a confident passion that indicated she could talk at any time, if only it was personally important. Her entire demeanor thus indicated a displeasure towards normalcy, towards rules. Rasil was shocked. Had he finally seen someone like him?
Target sighted...
Rasil moved towards her, hoping to talk to her, the (possible) only kindred spirit he had at this whole blasted party. He stepped a couple of paces at a time, stopping repeatedly in the crowd so as not to look weird, but she spotted him before he was even close. Their gazes met, and Rasil averted his. When he looked back, she was smiling. Surprisingly, she put her hand near her hip and waved subtly, a signal for him to come closer. He happily agreed and immediately introduced himself.
“My name is—” he began.
“Rasil.” She interrupted, “Your real name is Matthew, but you prefer the nickname.”
“Y-yes,” he stammered, “I do.” Who cares if it was a small touch? Rasil was overjoyed! She was literally the first person to ever call him Rasil before calling him Matthew. He almost asked her why, but instead settled for saying, “And you are?”
“Alyssa," she replied. She observed the surroundings again and made sure no one was listening before whispering, “This party is awful, isn’t it?”
Yes.
Just, yes.
Someone had said it!
Someone other than him had said it!
“Without a doubt," Rasil answered.
“I mean, if my dad is going to drag me to a government meeting, he could at least do me the courtesy of skipping the unnecessary party afterwards," Alyssa sighed.
“My sister’s the queen,” Rasil chuckled. “I feel your pain.” He suddenly felt considerable relief, talking to someone who agreed with his views on evenings like this. It was like talking to Helios, but no jokes were involved. He could be himself, even if only for a while.
***
Alyssa and Rasil continued talking so long that Gears disabled his comlink because he was getting tired of listening to them. She already knew who Rasil was and what had happened with the Amulet. She showed, however, an unusual amount of appreciation for what Rasil’s new Revenant Squad had been doing lately, specifically their outpost patrols.
He began to feel curious about her choice of conversation and asked, “Why’re you so interested in my work? Usually, my sister gains more attention.”
Alyssa gave a narrow-eyed smile, answering, “Those who scoff at darkness are always drawn to light, thus disrespecting its reflection.”
“What do you mean?”
“Queen Sophia draws attention from those who look only at the surface of the city. I’m interested in what really protects the city: you.”
“True," Rasil agreed. “I mean, it’s not all me...” He was intrigued, again, by the appreciation in her voice. What she was saying was true, but no one ever acknowledged it. He had never minded the lack of recognition, but it was still nice to receive it. His interest was piqued, and he decided to risk overstepping. “Do you work in the sublevels as well?” he asked, using a common code phrase to ask if Alyssa was a mercenary. Though they were tacitly discouraged or treated as an alternate identity, they were often the real heroes of Aljia, and he hoped she would get the message.
She looked for anyone eavesdropping and nodded. She pulled him closer and whispered quickly, “I do. My mercenary name is Ghost.”
The real heroes of Aljia, indeed.
Rasil smiled wider and replied, “Then I’m very interested in your work as well.” Ghost had a reputation comparable to his. She was well known as an infiltrator and backup fighter for mercenary jobs, being able to decode racazoid systems in some cases, too. She was also known as one of the honorable number who still followed the original mercenary code put in place by the legendary “Glyphwind,” and strove to protect the innocent. Rasil was quite glad to learn that his new friend(?) was someone known across Embershard for good moral character.
That said, Ghost presumably had a penchant for messing with Slick Jones’s operations and undercutting the efforts of his faction, the Shining Forge. Doubtless, something else was going on that brought her, of all people, to this party. Her dad, she had said... but if he knew Slick Jones and yet brought an enemy...
Rasil put that aside, schooling the thought under his smile and making instead a conscious decision to trust her candid statement.
Alyssa smiled back as she saw that trust towards her strengthening, but she also seemed tense. It was like knowing each other’s real occupations gave her the opportunity to tell him something. He tried to read her expression for a moment, and when he deduced part of it, he looked around and thought up a save. He gestured with a head tilt for her to follow and walked over to a large balcony overlooking the city. They were now in the open, but conveniently further from the ears of the party’s listeners.
Alyssa grabbed Rasil’s hand gently and said, “Rasil, something is happening tonight, soon. Maybe an attack, but I’m doubtful because I don’t know who and I don’t know why.” Rasil grew concerned.
“Do you know this as a spy?” he asked.
“Well, I know it as the daughter of one.”
“What’s the target?”
“I don’t know. I would go to the authorities, but my family’s reputation makes that difficult," she breathed nervously.
Rasil started pacing. Thoughts rushed through his head. He knew that no one could get past Jason’s blockade, so Sophia certainly wasn’t the target. The various partygoers were high-profile and unlikely to be targeted by a mercenary or a racazoid. The enemy was still aimless, anyway. Alyssa knew something was up and was vigilant, so she was also unlikely to be the target.
That left him.
Which was bad because it made sense.
Of course, the racazoids would still go for him.
Alyssa, who had been leaning against the balcony rail, turned to face Rasil. “I hear something!” she shouted, running towards him. He heard it too. A clink of metal and hum of distant power crystals. He quickly glanced past the rail to find the source and witnessed the distant glow of a charging rifle.
