CHAPTER 1 - Courier
In the dark embrace of an alleyway, grunts and blunt impacts from hits rang aloud. It continued for a few more minutes until it became as still as a lake. The silhouette of a young man, fully covered, exited the shadowy alleyway.
The neon signposts reflected the dark surface of his coat and his face, which was hidden under the darkness it provided. He took short glances at both ends of the exit and reached for his cell.
He dialed the number saved on the old cell phone model, and after a few rings, the other side picked up.
"Have you handled the job, Ender?" a voice, gruff and worn by time, came through the speaker. The figure's voice, however, was younger than one might expect, cutting from the shadows of his coat.
"Yeah," the mysterious young figure answered in short beats, his voice muffled by the sounds of the cars and public buses that roamed the road ahead.
"That's good. Your pay has already been prepared…and in cash, just as you like it," the man at the other side of the cell foretold, his speech holding some sort of familiarity with the individual.
"Thanks," the receiver seemed already used to this sort of conversation as he quickly followed the short response. "I've got another mission, if you're willing. But…this one's different from your other gigs. It's a high-risk, high-return typa mission. I'll send you the details, look through it if you're interested."
The money was a means to an end, the only way he could keep a promise he couldn't afford to break. Despite the huge burden it represented, it was the one thing that grounded him in this harsh world.
The shadowed individual who blended into the dark embrace of the alleyway placed his hand back into his coat's pocket. He began to walk out of the darkness, his every step seemingly out of place in the light that the neon posts reflected.
SOME MINUTES LATER
It was a distant walk back to the small and dilapidated abode he had as his home. It was nothing extraordinary, nor was it comfortable, but it was the only thing he could call his safe space.
The dark coat was draped on the hanger behind the door with practised ease. The door's locking mechanism indicated that the door was secured. He took his legs out of his shoes, his actions very slightly warming up the room.
Turning on the lights, the face of the mysterious figure finally emerged. It was the face of a young boy, no older than twenty, but deeply marred by the scars the world inflicts. His caramel-colored skin complemented his light brown pupils, which stared directly at the mirror.
His short curly black coloured hair settled wavily on his head, but it was unmaintained and rough. He took his eyes from his mirror, his eyes tracing back to the box that settled on his window.
He already knew what was inside the box after this repetitive routine. He took the box and stashed the money, along with the rest, inside a safe buried underground. He took his position next to the small computer setup located at the far side of the room. With a tap on the keyboard, the display of the monitor sprang to life. The username on the monitor read "Kael", his name.
It was one of the only things he received from his parents that he still had. He made his way adeptly through the desktop of the monitor, and after a few more clicks, he opened the page with the new mission brief on it.
[Mission Type - Protect and Transport
Mission Duration - Until it reaches the given location
Mission Objectives - Collect a classified box from a team and transport it to the target location ****
Mission Reward - Two Hundred Thousand Pounds
Do you accept? Yes / No ]
Kael read through the mission brief, and it read like an order from the military or a government-owned facility. These types of missions are too dangerous, and most mercenaries would skip them, but for Kael, the money and the reward were too tempting.
"If I can complete this mission, then I'll be able to do it. I won't have to keep on working for at least five years." His voice echoed through the solemn room, as the world went on, the car's horns and the humming and mechanical ringing of the cars and buses in the street ahead.
There was nothing to lose. Although this mission was dangerous, all he had to do was project a box. Since it's just the box, there's no need to fear it being killed or running away. It's the perfect mission target he could have asked for.
Without any more hesitation, his hands right-clicked on the yes option, and soon, the documents were being processed. It took a few seconds of patience, but the request was processed, and he was granted the mission. He had to be ready to move out first thing tomorrow morning.