It was nearly a chore to open the door, with his hands shaking so bad. Ulver found his shaky steps to the counter, and plopped down on a stool before he collapsed. The bartender was at the other end of the bar, a distance that seemed to continuously stretch in Ulver’s mind, seeming farther by the second. Ulver pried his helmet off, desperately trying to get some fresh air on his face. Sweat was pouring down his face, his arms shaking uncontrollably. Ulver’s helmet landed with a loud thud on the counter, drawing some glances and stares from the few other patrons in the bar. His hair, with bright, nearly white tips and deep brown curls, was nearly soaked in sweat, and he found it hard to keep his breath. The bartender noticed the grim shape of the man sitting down at the far end, and approached slowly and cautiously. He called from a fair distance, “Hey buddy! You feeling alright man?” He said, concern in his voice, accompanied by some lingering suspicion. Ulver looked up, startling the bartender with sudden eye contact with his fierce eyes. He raised a shaking hand up “Y-yeah” he replied in his gravely, yet shaky voice “I j-just really need a drink, man.” He said, squirming uncomfortably in his seat. The sweat that had started on his face had spread along his body, his back and arms and legs all beginning to dampen his clothes. He exhaled roughly, and started peeling his belongings off of his body, backpack and weapons, and then jacket, until his was in his muscle shirt, stained and dirty, wet with perspiration. “A-are you sure that’s what you need man? I can get some wa-” “No no no no no, I [b]need[/b] booze, something, fast. Hell, give me some fuckin’ rubbing alcohol, something.” The bartender took a few steps closer, never breaking eye contact even as Ulver’s eyes shot rapidly around, beads of sweat falling around them. “I- I don’t think-” Ulver slammed his fist on the counter, jumping up from his seat. He readied himself to yell, but his voice caught itself in his throat, with the bartender drawing a pistol from his back, with another patron in the bar standing with the both of them, a shotgun trained on Ulver. The patron was one of quite a few years, maybe a few years older than Ulver himself. Pretty heavy bags underneath his eyes, and a waxed mustache hung from his lips. His eyes were hardly visible in the dim light of the bar, but Ulver could feel them stare into his own. It appeared that his job was to protect the bar, as none of the other patrons, all unarmed, were surprised that he had brandished a weapon so quickly. Ulver stared back at him, his own eyes equally crazed. He knew it would be death to reach for his weapons, so he opted instead to slowly sink back down onto his stool, switching eye contact between the two armed men. The guard spoke up, his voice deep and experienced, even a bit intelligent. This wasn’t his first rodeo. “Now, you’re goddamn lucky we even let your kind in this town, and you’re even luckier that I don’t fill your chest with buckshot. You’ll behave yourself in this bar, or you’ll leave it in a goddamn box, you understand me, boy?” “Loud and clear.” Ulver said, staring intently at the man. The guard didn’t respond, and chose to instead slowly lower his shotgun, setting it back down against the counter before returning to his own stool. Ulver turned back to the bartender, and spoke up, a bit calmer. “Listen, I’m going through serious fucking withdrawal. I need some shit, or I’m going to fucking die. Now, please, serve me some damn drink.” The bartender, who had also put away his weapon, carefully moved to the cabinet, pulling a bottle of tequila out, before sliding the whole bottle down the bar. Ulver took the bottle, wildly prying the lid off, taking a few deep mouthfuls. It burned intensely in his throat, but almost immediately, Ulver could feel the warmth spreading slowly, his symptoms beginning to calm down. “Maybe you should kick the habit, man.” The bartender said, watching Ulver pant and drink from a distance. “How much is the bottle?” Ulver replied. --- After a few knocks, the door in front of Ulver opened, his sight being occupied by a slender, attractive woman, dressed in mainly utility clothing with bandoliers and and a handgun under her arm. She looked down at Ulver from the higher step, almost annoyed that he even knocked. Before Ulver could talk, her eyes fell to his helmet that he had in his arm, and instantly recognized him. “Oh, my god! You’re Sandman! Alrighty, come in, we’ve been expecting you.” She said, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside the building. He followed her lead, as she dragged him by the hand through the building, a Peacekeeper office serving Aspin’s citizens in the business district. There were many officers and secretaries moving around the office, papers being moved and Peacekeepers being deployed, offenders being brought in for processing. The woman guided Ulver through all the chaos, with Ulver catching many curious and suspicious looks from the criminals and officers alike. His sandy dusters and metal helmet drew much contrast from the still sandy, yet cleaner and more symmetrical uniforms of the officers. The woman quickly guided Ulver down a narrow hallway, with many doors leading to many different offices and sections of the building, before leading to large, heavy wooden double doors. The girl knocked, and didn’t wait for a response before opening, with two men staring back at the two of them. One was behind a desk, he was an older man, face lightly wrinkled with graying hair starting from the bottom. He was wearing a tattered kevlar vest, a large patch reading “CHIEF” across the front. A [url=http://imgs.inkfrog.com/pix/lenydiaz/cc1-grey-cadet-cap-hat.jpg]hat[/url] was sat on his desk, with a gray over coat was hung on a rack behind him. He was obviously the chief of the Aspin Peacekeepers. The other man was also adorned in Peacekeeper attire, but his face was hidden by a mask, made for breathing in the sandy environment, a respirator of sorts. The chief spoke up first. “Ah, Mindy. I see you’ve taken it upon yourself to bring the Immortal directly to my office. You’ll have to be reprimanded for that later.” “W-wha, uh, o-oh god, sir, I’m sorry I-I didn’t-” “Of course you didn’t think, you never do. You are relieved, Mindy.” “B-but, Sir-” “You are [i]relieved[/i], Private. Leave.” The Chief replied coldly. The girl left, defeated, without a word. Ulver watched as she walked off, and then turned back to the chief, who was already staring at him. “Take a seat, Mr. Rakis.” “Wait, wait, how d-” “I’m one of few security chiefs of the Gaens, Sandman. Don’t be stupid. I do my research. Now, take a seat or get out of my office.” Ulver mumbled something, and took a seat in the chair next to the masked man, on the opposite side of the desk as the Chief. They both looked at Ulver, with Ulver returning the gaze, before the chief started talking, softer than before. “I’ll get to the point, Sandman. There has been a series of murders and robberies in and around this city, and the people are getting scared. This type of violence isn’t very...usual in Gaen territory. It’s very out of character for this city, especially. Most are busy with scientific research and working with the ARK parts. No one has time for banditry here, and I’m not about to let it become commonplace. Not in my city.” The Chief stopped talking, and as if it were a planned cue, the masked man began talking. His voice was tact and youthful, and very direct. “My boys have seen him a few times. No accomplices. Just one lone wolf operator, breaking in, killing the inhabitants of a house, takes all valuables and then he leaves, with not even so much as a fingerprint left. He’s good, experienced. He’s done this before, and possibly with a group before. He doesn’t appear to have any connections to a certain faction, but the brutality of the murders could suggest the Forsaken.” Ulver spoke, “Well, brutality isn’t exactly specific to any tribe or faction. What about those weird fuckers up north?” The Chief spoke up “Edenites? No, impossible. They never leave, and no one enters. There’s no fathomable way they’ve found their way this deep in Gaen territory. Are you insane?” “I’m just saying, man. We don’t know what they’re capable of, this could be their first strike against the outside world.” “No no, this is either a Forsaken lone wolf or bandit lone wolf.” The masked man piped up. “Well, his loyalties don’t matter, what matters-” “Yes, his loyalties DO matter. I don’t know if you heard, but the Motum Diversum attacked and wiped out an entire Forsaken convoy 6 months ago. Miraculously, it hasn’t led to total war between them, but the last thing we need is a campaign of death taken upon us by the Forsaken.” The chief interrupted. “You and I both know the Forsaken don’t have the time or interest in attacking the Gaens, chief, one lone tribal isn’t going to start a crusade against you. If the Motum can survive without warfare after wiping out a whole convoy, I find it hard to believe that one lone little prick is going to make much a difference to those animals. I know the Forsaken, Chief, and I know you know that. They couldn’t give a shit about one lone wolf. A convoy, maybe, but nothing this small. They probably don’t even know the fucker’s even out here.” “I don’t care if The Professor himself is kissing the King’s feet and sacrificing his first born son to him, I don’t need political repercussions in this. You scout the guy out, find out what his motives are. If he’s a bandit, you can kill him with no hesitation, and keep what you find there along with the money we give you. If he’s Forsaken, or any other faction for that matter, you capture him, [i]alive, mind you[/i], and you bring him back here for questioning, and leave the stolen goods as evidence. Are we clear on this agreement, Mr. Rakis?” Ulver sighed, and gave a single nod of the head. The Chief exhaled, almost as if to release the stress of the situation he’d been holding in. He slid his chair back, opening a drawer. He pulled out a small silver case, which opened to reveal almost brand-new looking high grade rounds. The Chief took 2 rounds out, and tossed them to Ulver, who threw his hands up in surprise to catch them. “That’s the prepayment. You get the job done,[i] how I want it[/i], and you’ll get the rest of it. You know how it goes. Now, get out of my office before my superiors investigate me for association with an Immortal. And make your exit quickly and quietly. I don’t need my officers thinking their Chief is some sort of mutant lover.” “Wouldn’t want that, would we?” Ulver responded, sarcastically, even a bit toxically, as he pulled his metal helmet over his head. “I still don’t trust this guy, chief. Immortals are a destructive bunch of mutants.” The masked man spat, staring at Ulver. “Go fuck yourself, bud. I’m the best damn hunter on this island. You [i]need[/i] me.” “Why, you mutant fuck-” The man said, rising to his feet. “[b]Enough[/b]. Wolff, if I recall correctly, your squadron has let this guy escape three times in the last month. I’ll hear nothing of unreliability, from you, or anyone else in this precinct. Off, to your stations, you’re on rooftop watch for today.” The masked man said nothing, simply staring at Ulver as he walked out, making sure to bump his shoulder as he passed the bounty hunter, in his walk to the door. “I’m off to find this bandit, Chief. Try not to talk shit to any more employees, huh?” “What do I pay them for?” The Chief said, cracking the first smile Ulver had seen him crack during the whole conversation. Ulver chuckled, and walked out, leaving a considerable amount of sand in the place he sat.