"Put me in a dress and call me Suzi, Sarah Verwoerd! I thought you were living in France now!" The man with grey hairs and a 3 days beard gave a hand to Sarah which she gave a vigorous shake. "Mister Van Ryneveld, glad to see you're alive. How's it going Allan?" Ryneveld smiled and shrugged. "Still the same old business I guess. Got my own company now! Well, more or less. We're independent, 20 guys and all that. What are you doing here by the way?" He began to walk toward one of the two pickups on the road next to the village, some armed mercs loading stuff in them. Sarah followed him and sighed. "Retired from the legion and the retirement plan's shit. So I'm here for... 5, maybe 10 more years." The merc commander had a small laugh but lowered his shoulder, an air of resignation on his face. "Isn't that what we all say? In our line of work it's always a surprise when we reach an age where we could... retire. I'd ask why you came to me but I've been keeping contact with most of the others. Dead. Well, except for Schatental, can't believe the guy is actually a banker in Switzerland now. Look Sarah, I run a tight ship, budget wise. I'd hire you but I can't really afford to divide the cash even more than we're doing now, these pricks will mutiny before that happens, maybe when some of them die I can make you a spot but..." Sarah shrugged and crossed her arms. "I had my doubt this would happen. Eh, I hate this place. Fucking UN and their mercenary bill. I'd have given my name to Blackwater but I'm too old now. I'm seriously just glad you can help me cross the border, I'll find my work on the other side. How's the bribery rate here?"

Ryneveld walked to the cabin of the pickup and made a movement of the head backward to indicate to get in the box to the 2 guys inside. He got on the driver position while Sarah got in shotgun. "I'd say cheap, but half of the times the mother fuckers will take your diamonds and shot you in the back to take the rest anyways. This place is a piece of shit worst than the others. 'Heart of Darkness' and all that jazz. Still, old mister van Ryneveld has a few tricks up his sleeves, hehe." He opened the armchair in the middle of them both and there was a little pile of gems in it. Sarah took one and looked at it more closely. "Quartz. Totally worthless, it's the big trick at the moment since none of the niggers can make the difference between that and the real thing." He pressed the accelerator and went on the move, another pickup following his own. Most of the Mercs were white, maybe some of them worked for Ex-O like she and Ryneveld, but Sarah actually knew him from her time in the SADF, he was one of the rare 'Correct' person she knew on this continent. It didn't take that long to reach the checkpoint and even less to get in, a handful of quartz and they were in, although there was some arguing when they wanted to make the second pickup pay as well but ultimately they just payed with another scope of worthless minerals to get in.

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Less than an hour later they were in Bekalo. Bumpy roads and old buildings that lets face it hadn't been repaired since the old colonial masters left. What a dump. Sarah gave one last handshake to his old comrade before leaving the truck. Some people looked at the lady with a greying pony tail that had just been dropped off and she noticed that she was one of the rare female here and the only white one in probably a 100 mile radius. So much for subtlety. Still they kept their distance, her machete and pistol being visible to anyone. She thought of her birth place. Rhodesia that was now Zimbabwe. People may call her racist but she didn't hesitate to laugh in the face of anyone that said that colonialism wasn't the best thing to have ever happened to this shithole of a continent.

Sarah walked to a bar that seemed to have mostly white clients. All armed mercs of course. She sat down at the counter and took a 10 euro bill. The barman raised an eyebrow but still went to her. "What will it be miss?" She looked around at what people had. "Something in a bottle, one that's not open. You wouldn't know how to get guns and a job here would you?" The man shrugged as he brought her some Budweiser. "You just need to walk around for 5 minutes to find someone who's willing to sell, but no one will that of that European currency here, well, maybe the mercenaries but they're generally the ones buying guns, not selling. You need hard gold or diamonds here. And if you need work I don't know who'll hire some old lady here." Sarah sighed. Of course no one would, she didn't exactly had the profile of the people you'd find here. Still, as she thought of this over her drink she began to formulate an idea around that. She remembered what the paper said: She wasn't alone. Most likely all the others would be like her, a pistol and a blade. If they weren't stupid they'd come here to look for information and this wasn't exactly a big town either.

She took her beer and paid for a few bottles of water before going out and walking a little, finding what was obviously the town square. There was a dry fountain at the center of it and Sarah sat down on it, placing her machete on her left and her pistol on her right. She was cleaner than any of the people here and she had olive cargo pants and shirt, the things military on her being a black harness for ammunition and grenades, that was now mostly empty, along with french combat boots. She got herself a cigarette and began to finish her beer before switching to water. Waiting. Listening.