[h1] Act One: A Tenuous Order [/h1]

[Quote]November eleventh, nineteen-eighteen: The day the world's innocence died. One-hundred and five years ago, mankind chose a different path and traded their morality away at wholesale prices. The corporatizing and legitimization of criminal enterprise gave way to a bustling capitalistic world that we observers would recognize only as a bizarre parody of our own. Governments operate at the whim of the Underworld, governors and senators openly side in internecine warfare on behalf of the true governing bodies of the world. The Grand Syndicates of the world sit perched upon towers built of greed and corpses and openly flaunt their wealth and power in their capitals for those privileged or deranged enough to see.
	In the old days, ideals were something a person could strive for still; and in that last shred of innocent hope an organization was born that would be responsible for [i]delicately[/i] policing the New World Order. Outer Element: A clandestine institution made up of members from all walks of life and all corners of the globe dedicated to one last shining ideal. In the name of "Fair Play", Outer Element's various branches handle conflict between the Grand Syndicates and their Franchises as a necessity to ensure that money continues to flow into all the right places. 

This is the story of two agents in this Machiavellian world, and the lengths they must go through to defend the tenuous order of their day and age. Welcome to the Bloody Days.[/quote]

Markus itched at the bridge of his nose, still feeling the sting of the cut from when that moron busted his nose open. He felt around on the broken knuckles beneath his glove, and after a moment of wincing in pain trying to find any hope that they [i]weren't[/i] broken, he tilted his head back and took a deep breath. Why anyone would pick a fight with him in a convenience store of all places, he didn't know. Maybe it was the rushing around, or maybe the guy had some sort of chip on his shoulder, but the fifty dollar offer to cut him in line didn't parse out the way Markus had hoped. [i]He had to throw some weight in there.[/i] They weren't allowed to flash badges so close to the target, but some phony credentials should've done just fine. 
	He wasn't sure why he expected anything else. Civvies this far north almost never had anything to lose, and they figured the same about anyone else around. [i]Fair.[/i] It was a fair fight, and at this point in his life that mattered a lot more to Markus than the busted nose or broken knuckles. Whoever he was, the yokel was a bruiser for sure. It made him think about his time in the service and the strange things they'd do for entertainment. Not even the Pits or Fun Runs, just the dumb things like getting drunk and punching one another until you couldn't anymore. No bets, no cash, just pure boredom in a parking lot full of oil tankers. His mind wandered, imagining if they did that sort of stuff around here; just a bottle of shine and a dirt ground campsite with a stone ringed fire, sounded like the perfect environment for a punch up to him. 

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Markus wrapped the slightly broken hand up into his rifle's sling, cinching it tight and wincing again as he felt everything align in a way that he could at least get purchase on the foregrip. He preferred .308, and didn't want the unruly machine hopping too high up to the point where he lost his grip. Hot steam rose up from his mouthless balaclava covered face, the cold October morning air hovering just above freezing. He could feel his heart slowing back down as he adjusted to the pain, the warm blood circulating slower and slower until it stabilized, and he couldn't wait for the adrenaline of work to overpower what he was currently feeling. 
	He always wondered if he'd be able to change a magazine in situations like this, but once you were dodging bullets, it was secondary. The only trouble was the lull, but he hoped the half an oxy he slammed down his gullet a few minutes ago would be kicking in soon just to make it all a bit more bearable. Until then, it was constant awareness of discomfort. But he wasn't a loud bellyacher. In his world, you were a man if you sucked everything bothering you up into a little black hole. 
	[i]"It's your devil to dance with!"[/i]
	He could still hear his Father's voice in his head. [i]Old fuck...[/i]

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It was a short hike up into the woods of upstate New York, maybe twenty minutes from a rest stop on the side of Interstate 87, when the trees had finally given up the secret of lights and sound in the distance. The complex was, by the schematics they'd been given, a set of three tack-up warehouses surrounded by a triple high, barb wired fence. Looking up at it, he laughed at the audacity of keeping a fence so fucking tall. What was the point? The squirrels still got in, you'd deter a bear with the single height, and if it wasn't electrified, then the pair of baby bolt cutters strapped to his pack would make a short order door. Was it just to say he had a big fence?
	"I don't get it..." Markus whispered, back pressed against a tree. 
	The humor in his voice was audible, even through the whisper.
	"Its like a cock measuring contest with these clowns. Everyone's got a fucking thirty foot fence these days, like it helps."
	His eyes continued to pass along the upper sections of the fencing for small black orbs; the security camera system that may or may not have had thermal capabilities. The briefing hadn't been a hundred percent clear, but nothing in the OE was crystal clear so that wasn't new. Besides, nobody was worse informed than the Landguard. They just had all the guns, so running into things blindly was easy. That was a big difference he'd had to get used to when he signed on for OE, as the usage of intel was generally almost non-existent. You showed up, you reacted, and if you were lucky you could bounce out at the end of the day.

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	"What do you think, partner? You seeing any cameras?" Markus asked, finally looking toward his new partner crouched behind a neighboring tree. 
In the early dawn light, they were working on very limited vision as the trees blocked out the sunlight that slowly crept up the horizon. He hadn't thought to bring a helmet or any sort of assisted vision goggles, figuring the walk was going to take them long enough that the sun would be out. It was a bit embarrassing to be in such a state on the first job, but he figured he'd play it off as best he could.