Dark clouds loom in the sky shrouding the afternoon sky in dark grey, I sit on my condos balcony and lookout onto the river canals that make up the new streets of this old city. The normally crystal clear water disturbed and splashed by the downpour of rain,, the ferry boats that make their runs hold the workers and salarymen of this new venetician city. The crumbling paint on the walls of the business buildings riddled with ferns and vines as dilapidated as can be., it's just what this city was and will forever be. A plastic city. A violent, decadent city.

"Miami..." I mutter and shake my head once.

Half in disgust, half in reminiscence of the fun times I had in this city all those years ago. I remembered them for the first time today, thirty minutes ago while I was making steak for dinner. I just got done trimming my bonsai trees and tending to my guns, now I sit out and looking around the vine wreathed building facades and to the people below. They weren't necessarily human, elves, dwarves, monsterpeople of various types, Some even swim in the canal from time to time. My thoughts drift to my work, the one time I had to deal with one of those twelve foot tall sharkman behemoths. Even the women are massive and strong,. I shot a female suspect with three of my machine guns.. Never heard the end of it from my boss..

Yes, Three of them.

I'm whats called a Gunlock, a wizard of weaponry of all kinds. One of the abilities, spells or powers or what have you is to animate guns possessing your mark to float around you and do your will. All manners of explosives, guns and weapons of war I can command using the secondary life force most call mana. It's a rare thing for humans to have enough of it to use it and even rarer to become one such as I. Almost all of the gunlocks serve an icon of war, some call it the kube others by their own names for that idol of bloodshed.

I used to be one of those.

My gaze shifts towards my feet and I sit hunched over, bracing my elbows ontop of my knees.

"Why...How did I....?"

I still dont know.

Sitting there I stew on my thoughts for abit, I've gone back to tending to the firearms I've come to possess through my years of adventuring on the otherside. An MG3 in immaculate condition, A Browning M 1919 worn from more than a hundred years of service and another browning slightly less worn though it's barrel shroud and metal sides have sustained damage from gunfire.

"Siggy, Lucky and Unlucky" 

Yes, I've named my machine guns. 

They're all my children in a way, I've seen and known waffengeists and they are not like them. Still, I try and treat them well and as they deserve. Other than those three I carry a stainless 1911 I've customized back in the otherworld. Vorpal enchanted and a massive muzzle brake it's quite useful for me, Steel just works better for my gun magics. It's not that I cannot work with plastic guns, it's just not something I'm particularly fond of working with. When I reach out and touch something with my mind and soul I'd like to touch something I like. May or may not be an aesthetic preference of mine.

Carrying three fifteen round 1911 mags along with that pistol in my shoulder holster is...Rough, but my work requires quite abit of firepower. I'm part of a task force set up by the regime running this city to deal with threats the average cop can't handle, Monsterpeople parolees, Otherworld gangs, Old world cartels, terrorists and other types like that. I'm in the Miami special Response team 'Conquistador', there's 'Privateer' and then 'Poacher' teams in addition to Conquistador. 

I get paid well and get nice accommodations as due for my position, I get a load of vacation time that I've never used. 

Maybe I'll take a trip to the Florida Keys.

Just then my work phone vibrates on its wireless charger.

I let it sit for awhile as I hold my other 1911, a nickel plated 38 super, disassembled and ready to clean. I keep all of my guns in immacula--
THUD THUD THUD

Oh...
Oh it's my partner...

"Scarlet I have told you many times I am on call 24/7 for my job, not for you"

I just told her that so she'd lose her cool....
She is very fierce for a woman, I dont know if she has a  mental disorder but she is irrationally angry fifty percent of the time. I've heard talks that she isn't fully human, or that her father was an adventurer to the other side that was cursed or blessed with such children. Others say she's a prolific user of Furio, a drug used for permanently increasing ones strength. How she affords as much as she'd need to take to get this far is...beyond me...

She must spend most of her money on it.

I am inclined to believe that last rumor, I've seen the rare Furio addicts before and they are all like this.

"Open the door motherfucker!"

It's like owning a pet with Scarlet, I can't reward her bad behavior. I stay seated and continue to clean my 1911. The torrential rain outside drowns it out Scarlets raging. Through the thudding on the door and the slew of curses my normal cool becomes compromised. I load a full mag into my nickel plated 1911 and walk toward the door. 

"Scarlet why are you here?" I ask, sighing.

"What did you forget?"

"It's my birthday Dumbass!"

I am not her friend I am her partner on the force, why is she here on her birthday?

What is going through Scarlets head.

Out of all the people she could go to for her birthday she decides to come visit me.

Her coworker.

Who has been working on the team with her for only three months.

Shes high on furio or something else.

"Alright hold your horses I'll let you in." I shout, jolting my head to the door and back to my 1911.

"Better keep this ready." I mutter, holding it behind my ass as I get up to go to answer the door, the dim neon purple lights lining the walls illuminate the floors around my house. It's a nice touch, paid good money for 'em.

Goes over well with guests, if they are capable of appreciating beauty that is.

I am fifty fifty on whether or not Scarlet can care for such things.

Nearing the door I check through the peephole that its her. Sure enough, there she is with her blonde hair tapping her right foot impatiently with her arms crossed over her chest. I start with unlocking the padlock, and unfasten the steel robber proof guard on the door, with an affirmative jolt it comes loose and I slowly swing it towards the side wall.

It's Miami.

The crimes only gotten worse too.

Opening the door with my other hand on the pistol I am greeted with her scowl and fierce glancing eyes.

"What took you so long?"

"Come on in and I'll show you what did."

This will be her first time at my place, I turn around and wave her in.

"Holster your piece first."  She says, glancing at the gun in my right hand

Shit

With all the calmness in my being I respond to her 

"Alright, can't be too careful Scarlet." 

"Shut up fucker, we've been working with each other for months now." 

She responded with only an iota of her anger.

Guess it didn't matter too much to her, I wasn't expecting that to go over so well.

Forcing my piece into its python leather holster on my belt I take my time to show her around to my apartment, I've decorated it with some of the plants from the areas I've been too from the other side. MorphBrush from the Ringed forest, a small bonsai tree of highly poisonous Ebonshade, all centered on live oak furnishings sourced locally here in Florida. Theres a large futon, facing the plants that flank the plasma screen television I managed to purchase for an absurd price. In between that and the exceptionally long futon is a live oak coffee table of similar proportions.

"Take a seat, I hope you don't mind the animal hide rugs. I personally hunted them during my travels in...."

"Cool, I'm sure it's a cool story but I am starving...Do you have any food?"

Typical

Furio addicts have thrice the muscle, quadruple the appetites.

I am used to her mannerisms, this is nothing I haven't had to deal with on this side or the other.

"I've got tons, What would you like?"

"Got any protein?" She blurts out as I hear a thud from her sitting down forcefully and putting up her feet on the coffee table.

She...

I do that too sometimes.

It's nothing to get upset about.

Protein...

I assume she means meat.

"I"ve got Elk, Pork, Gator, Beef"

"Ho! Mr.Highclass as always Lock"

Thats my nickname at the workplace.

Lock

As in gunlock

Because I am a gun magician of the /k/ube.

"Which do you want Scarlet?"

I hear her humming and I see her tapping her finger on her chin.

"What do you have thats already made?"

I check back in the fridge.

"I made steak last night, You can have that if you want."

"Sure that'll be great."

I exhale forcefully out of my nose.

I should try and foster a good relationship with my coworkers.

Even if they might be a totally childish nuisance with serious anger issues.
I let out a long sigh and open the fridge, cursing with my forefinger over the numerous compartments of the fridge. Taking stock of what she might eat through depending on how long she stays.

Fuckin furio

I fetch the glass containers holding the steaks, their perfect glaze congealed onto the surface of the braised morsels of meat jiggle as I slide it onto a plate for this meat craving maniac coworker of mine.

I wanted to eat this tonight too. 

Guess I'll have the Elk instead, Thats two days old though.

I hear Scarlet tapping her fingers on the wooden parts of my futon.

Just....Just be patient.

I put two sets of prewrapped silverware into my back pocket along with two steak knives from the cupboards, sliding in and out as I quickly but calmly hasten to get the food out to what may soon to be a belligerent furio addict. 

I put the two plates onto the palms of my hands and lifting them I walk into the main room humming a simple drawn out tune.

"Heres your Birthday dinner Scarlet, I hope I didn't disappoint."

"Thank GOD!" She says as I put the plate in front of her and surprisingly she waits for me to eat with her.

Now that is impressive for her, I'd congratulate her if I wasn't sure it would anger her.

I place my plate next to hers and sit side by side  with a comfortable distance between each other.

"Alright, lets eat." 

She begins to hastily wharf down her food, I am reminded of a starving animal greedily gulping down its food. 

I let out one, final, drawn out sigh for the night and look out into pelting rain outside drizzle down onto the windows and concrete balcony outside. I take a bite here and there as I begin to rethink my choice in employers. It's true, I've got plenty of options in the current job market, there are only around two hundred former gunlocks in the USA, they're all gainfully employed with some sort of security work. Guess if you got good credentials and a fearsome reputation you'll get employed quickly.

Especially in this industry.

The noise of Scarlets horrible table manners grows quiet as I think back to my time of service under the God-thing known as the Kube.. A scrap of free will, coordinating with an unfeeling and remorseless cosmic deity, cathartic happiness with each act of destruction and rewarded with gifts according to your ability to exercise calculated magical death by shot and shell. 

I was quite good, I earned a medal by a greater deity of the Kube, Most explorers know of Waffengeists but most do not know of the other creation of the Kube. Waffenritters,  spirit warriors of the Kubes design acting as its favored concept-sons. It was Struggle, the blood vein winged angel of death clothed in a German overcoat, that rewarded me with the smoldering shell medallion for my acts during the wars in the ringed forests against the Hunter lodges of the south.  Such terrifying opponents, You wouldn't think how strong they were for hu-....

"Hey Lock, got anymore steak?"

Oh...

I dozed off in distant memories of war again.

"Yeah sure, I got more Steak, let me go..."

"You didn't eat yours man...Everything alright?" Scarlet says with....Heartfelt concern?

"No and yes, Thoughts about wars long since over"

She turns back to face her plate oddly calm and composed she hands it to me and....Smiles.

"You'll have to tell me about it sometime!"

"Maybe." I reply as I grasp her plate with both my hands and go to fetch Scarlet more steak.

Huh.... Alright thats new.

I have never seen a furio addict act like that.

Or a woman act like that as a matter of fact.

I best get her steak.

The night has grown long and my coworker has eaten through half of my fridge, the dishes are piled up in the kitchen sink, I still hear the rain droplets tap on the window pane just above it. It now rains heavily two thirds of the year here in Florida, The eternal hurricane along the coast of Palm beach gives us all that we could ever need. It came about three or four years into the convergence if I heard right. People have frayed nerves and tainted memories from those days. I was quite generous to my otherwise disagreeable coworker, I still don't know why she chose my place. It was her birthday after all, Twenty fourth to be precise. I guess she can consider it my present for her.

All I know is that I am going to have to get a lot of groceries tomorrow and fetch some meats from the butcher.

Wow.

I am forty years her senior.

I might look like I am in my early twenties, but all gunlocks of the kube didn't age as long as we were in its service. It's caused alot of confusion whenever I've had to show my ID card at work. The Kube can grant all sorts of things, it's a wish granter of some kind and can do things even the people on the other side would consider unimaginable. It wanted us in it's service for a long time, It must've wanted us at the peak of our abilities while we were under its wing.

Quite the workplace benefit now isn't it?

I busy myself with doing the dishes as I try not to mind the mud stains Scarlet tracked into my flat.

"Shoulda wiped off your feet you stupid bi-"

My phone vibrates on its charger again.

God... I hope its not Scarlet again.

I go and retrieve it off of its charger and promptly answer it.

"Hello?"

"Agent Lock you are to report to the precinct office immediately for an emergency assignment." The dispatcher sternly commands, as soon as I heard my title I started to change into my tactical gear.

"Whats the threat level?" I ask as I lace up my combat boots.

"Comms are compromised, report to the precinct." The dispatcher sounds nervous., Who or what could compromise comms?

With the lifting of the palm of my hand I summon my three machine guns, they stand vertically at attention. If they could salute me they would these loyal three. I look to their fully loaded belts just to check and begin to done their pitch black rain jackets. Together with my multicam wizard cap we look like a coven of four witches when we're together. From what I hear the office jokes about my three bodyguard from time to time.

And with haste I prepare to get picked up by whoever they dispatched to ferry me to the station, Flanked by Siggy, lucky and unlucky with Pistol on my side and Rifle slung across my neck I open and close the door with my magic as I fly out of my room and down the halls then down the stairs. I can move like a blur with the magical boots I possess,  However it takes familiarity with ones surroundings to use them properly I once rammed into one of my neighbors while using them. Can't make that mistake again, I'll get kicked out of this condo complex if I do it again.

I'm thinking about this situation and I can't but help to think this isn't good, Dispatch is almost always cold as Ice. The only one is an old guard Moccasin Stalker from the old days, grizzled and tattooed with wolfsangels and service accomplishments from those times. Nothing phases him, except whatever the fuck this is.

What kind of shit am I going to have to deal with today?
On the puddled concrete sidewalk I wait to be picked up by the dispatch crews motorboat, they rank and file policemen have already quartered off the waterways leading to and from my place and the precinct. Standing there stamping my outstretched left foot on the ground I look to my left to lucky and to my right at unlucky, then I turn my head and stare at Siggy.

"I wonder where Dispatch is? Do any of you know?"

I question them, knowing full well they can not respond. They've been imbued with some spirit from the fights we've had. It's our gun wizard dark craft, being able to create new spirits from the deaths of our enemies. These three are well on their way to developing forms of their own, but for now they're my loyal tools to be used.

I crane my head looking down the waterway.

Not a boat in sight.

Wait...

Thats the sound of the armored dispatch boat alright! 

Looks like we're going right into the fray!

Loud as can be, the screaming sound of the several propellers on the armored airboat boom throughout the waterways and buildings. They were such a nuisance that due to popular demand they were discontinued from widespread use.

We still use them because they're the only thing we've got that can stand up to several RPG blasts and magic missiles that can move fast as hell on the water ways.

They were first made by the Moccasin Stalker bands during their formative years when they were still raking in gold and cash from the magitech and artifact trade. They gathered so many men and acquired so much cash they eventually took the entirety of the former state of Florida, restoring order a full three years before the federal government to the north did. They've already been made into a pariah by the new UN, but that doesn't mean shit when you're the only state in town with a reliable source for artifacts and a sizable nuclear arsenal, they still trade with them nevertheless and some of the governments are more chummy with them than others.

I wonder how they managed to get those nukes.

The boats now just turning the corner and they're coming in as fast as they can.

I step back and my three henchment respond in kind. always floating in their black hats and ponchos behind me in obedience.

The rocket brakes they use to slow down can roast people alive. It's not a pretty sight and I pity the clean up crew more than the lawyers.

There it is, the huge lumbering mass of aluminum armor plating, machine guns, tank cannons and turboprop propellers, with haste it arrives and halts, screeching to a halt as it slows down to pick me up.

Fully stopped now a hatch open ups with a grim faces Scarlet offering me a hand in.

"Always on the job aren't we?" I remark, accepting her hand and letting my three machinegun children to pile in.

"Tell me about it. Of course shit had to hit the fan on my birthday of all days..." She spits out those words inbetween gritting her teeth.

The feeling is understandable.

I wanted to go to sleep after having my fridge cleared out by your massive angry ass.

"So whats todays doomsday?" I ask, the storm trooper rank and file are as grim and stone faced as ever. But I saw one of them sweating so this can't be good.

"Wait till you get a load of this shit." Scarlet blurts out of her mouth and finishes it with a concerning cackle as she goes to be buckled in.

Lucky me, I get to sit right next to her.

The gunboat must be rocketing down the canal lanes, Several tons of steel are bobbing up and down as we're speeding toward our destination. Scarlets been staring off into space and with the crew being as mute as a school for the deaf I've been patiently waiting for her to fill me into the current situation. Finally I toggle the switch on the comms to ask for an explanation.

"Well Scarlet? Whats tonights 'Flavor of bullshit'?" 

Looking over my right shoulder I see that I broke her psychotic trance as she stops staring at the hatch door and moves to respond with our teams comms.

"For all of you that missed the team briefing when we boarded the SS Bullshit express a quarter of our southwest police precincts were hit with boats rigged with explosives, half of those boats managed to make it past our defenses."

She takes a pause, she blinks a couple times as if shes still trying to snap out of her trance.

"...HQ was hit with several cessnas rigged with explosives, We still don't know whether or not they're out of commission but they did not kill the director."

That is extremely unfortunate for whoever did this. Considering the time of day, his methods and history...Well I imagine we're heading towards the families of whoever screwed that one up.

I need to ask for clarification "Has the Director been injured? Has anyone claimed responsibility?" That would be their second mistake, things have changed and we're not bound by the sensibilities of the federal junta north of us. I imagine the Directors frothing at the mouth right now drawing up plans to wipe them out...

Whoever 'them' are.

Scarlet sighs and stares slightly up, out of frustration for whats going to be a long shift? Out of despair for it happening on her birthday? 

Can't get a read on her, I've never been good at understanding that type of stuff.

My job title isn't "Detective" thats for sure.

"The Director wasn't anywhere near the action, infact he was half way home when he got the call we were hit" She toggles her mic off as she breathes a long and deep breath, then taking even longer to exhale. "We don't know, but it seems the director connected the dots to his recent crackdown on the drug trade. Team Privateer is en route to capture out the Cartel leaders families, Team Poacher has been assigned to wipe out the Algerians and we, ladies and gentlemen, have been given the privilege of retaliating against the Russians."

The Director leaves the velvet gloves on for his friends and takes them off for his enemies. Of course we'd get the task of dealing with the biggest problem makers in the entire city.

I toggle on the comms to try and help cheer up the team"Whoever is still left standing after we're done with today is invited over to my place for as much beer as you can drink." 

Looking around I can tell that my off character encouragement did little to help.

Infact I think I saw a second one with beads of sweat on their face.

I guess a good deed is never left unpunished. 


We've accelerated even faster than we were before, Several tons of metal, men and guns bobs up and down from the wake we're creating. Unfortunately for the russians, this means we're going to perform a "ram and entry", the spear shaped front of these things were designed for these actions in mind. Board in from the sides, disembark from the front.

Still, The russians are easily the most concentrated and heavily armed band of criminals in this city. Some of the guys here aren't going to make it home tonight.

Maybe Scarlet and I even.

I hope Greg makes it out alright. Hes a great guy and an excellent coworker.

The overhead speakers turn on with an attention capturing squelch, the captains going to make an announcement, Orange floodlights quickly brighten after the sound, incase anyone missed the first ear piecing electronic screech.

"This is your Captain speaking, It's my duty to inform you to get your asses ready to go we've got fifteen seconds till you boys are in the middle of it!"

The crew shuffle about, flipping off safeties, stretch their neck muscles and shrug their shoulders.

I follow suit and stretch my head to the left shoulder and then the right. Lucky, unlucky and Siggy go from pretending their people to pointing their barrels toward the exit ramp. I see through their sights as if I were aiming down them myself, they themselves are ready to do so on their own. 

I can't mess up the initial breach. 

I would feel awful if I was responsible for the loss of a teammate because of my goofy sidekick guns.

Plus the liability waivers were specific about this.

Scarlet is huffing and puffing.

Shes getting ready in her own....way...

It's about time.

I hear heavy machine gun fire pelt the exterior, our own mounted machine guns and tank guns fire in kind, the captains painfully loud intercom sounds off again.

"3...-" 

Theres a stillness in the cabin, all noise of preparation goes silent.

"2......1...."

We lurch back as we impact with the concrete wall

The machine gun fire ceases and then we wait, nervously...Hesitant....

None of us want to be the body on the ground.

The Hatch pops up!

And my three machine guns shoot out, through their sights I trace the corners and scan the second story positions. Machine gunners did their job.

Lotta dead russians.

I see one silhouette near a doorframe in the hallway, Quickly Unlucky sprays that area with .50bmg and then list the barrel to the right. For your buddies behind the door, whoever you are.
Lucky and Siggy are on stand by, nobodies made a move...

The harnesses of my squadmembers unlatch as does Scarlets, my fingers pointed to the sky in concentration. 

"On my mark, rush out into the sides and then forwards."

Nothing else follows, We need time on our side and these seconds are precious

"Mark" 

Scarlet and the squad rush out, then hug the walls. I see some poke out their heads to respond. Siggy and lucky deal with them with a quick burst of machine gun fire. 

Finally I break concentration and unfasten my harness, I walk out and survey the damage with my own eyes, My three machine guns float behind me, positioned as a triforce of death a few feet above my head. I hug the wall as my squadmates had and position myself behind Scarlet, bearing her same old and odd bullpup she cares.

Behind me are fifty or so bodies on the ground, dressed in good but blood soaked kit. More gun fire sounds off as the teams go throughout the building, Standard mop up operations, kill anything on two legs.

Do I add slithers to this?

..What am I thinking, the Russians don't hire Lamias.

I unholster my nickel plated 1911, tapping Scarlets shoulder for her attention. She turns bearing a grimace, then shifting back towards the hallway

"Ready?" She asks.

"As ready as you are." I reply, we  lurch out. One guy on the nearest left doorway pops out. I shoot him before he can shoot us, with my pistol that goes through all but flesh. 

Vorpal rounds, one of the most prodigious gifts of the kube.

A reward and a lesson from the Hunter campaigns.

Quite useful all around, I hear a scuffle behind him and fire more shots right through the walls into where the noise came from. Through the gunfire sounding throughout the building I can tell nobody in that room is moving anymore.

Siggy moves past us to meet them as Scarlet rushes forward, Barrel poking through the room scanning the gun shoots into the room. Woman, a child and a dying guardsman. Scarlet looks into the right room and does as Siggy had done, the explosive shots from her odd rifle no doubt leaving volleyball sized holes through the concrete. More guards poke out of the hallway, en mass this time with kalashnikovs bared. 

Before they fire a shot, Lucky and Unlucky fire off into them, The twin flash from the barrels lights up the dim lit walkway and the brass wildly flies about, hitting me and everything around. Their ammo belts flick and flail around.

More men lie in a pile on the ground.

I press the com button on my throat

"Scarlet, press forward I have a feeling they're waiting for our advance. I'll cover you." 

"Understood!" She snarls out with a happy tone

She charges forward shouting as she blitzes past shot out artwork and pockmarked concrete. As I thought, the men at the end of the hallway poke out the barrels of their kalashnikovs and squeeze off full auto gunfire.

Scarlet ducks and taking aim I shoot my pistol into the walls, seeing their rifles drop as they are hit one of them down the hallway rolls into frame with an RPK.

"SCARLET! To the SIDES!" I yell out, she rolls to the right and I lurch to the left.

The familiar sting of getting shot in the arm pulses throughout my arm as I point to the man in the hallway, focusing my machine guns to him.

"KILL THE SON OF A BITCH!"

The three do as ordered and all three hose him with lead. A pile of shredded clothe, mulched flesh and metal fragments of his RPK are all that remains. Focused now on the pain in my arm I clutch my right tricep and I press my finger into the wound, in lieu of more comforting healing magic us gunlocks have this. A familiar burning pain shoots out of my finger, pulling it out as I go. I grimace as Scarlet moves into the room. Shooting and dodging bullets are her specialty, she can take care of herself. I finish up with my arm then twist it around with a circular stretch, still holding onto my shiny nickel gun as I finish stretching.

Patched up and ready to go I run out to link up with Scarlet in the other room. 

As I enter this warehouse room the sound of gunfire lessens throughout the building, still it echoes throughout the large storage room. I begin to wonder if we've come out on top or if we're the only two that made it out alive. I'm optimistic that we've cleared out the last of them, conquistador team is one of the best, My job isn't kind to optimists and I activate my coms to check.
 "This is white wizard, I need a headcount of whos still standing over."
Theres a pause, then the second team leader responds.
"Wilco white wizard, Three KIA rest are fine over."
Shortly after the third team leader responds
"We caught them getting ready, no causalties over."
 Still shots are echoing throughout the building, I look around to inspect the things in the warehouses. Boxes, crates and..Cages...Huge metal cages with sludge like waste spewing out from the center. What were the russians storing here..

Scarlet slaps my back forcefully, I felt the force of her wet bloody slap pierce into my lungs, bowing over slightly shocked by the force of her blows I hear her chuckle as she talks  "Command was clear, mop up mission, no survivors Lock. Whats got you like this, why are you looking around all dazed and confuse." She stops her grinning and chuckling as she starts to look around herself. "You weren't shocked or anything, what do you see in all of this boxed up shit anyway?" I cough into my hand once and beckon my machine guns in their typical formation, barrels aimed up at the ceiling. "I'm not enthused of your low opinion of me Scarlet, we've worked together and you know this isn't my first rodeo." I give her a side glance as she just stands watching me, I caught a hint of a grimace on her face. 

I cusp my chin with my hand stroking it, trying to decipher what they were doing here. The piles of excrement aren't from mammals, looks almost like pellets left from insects. The pile of electronics left on that counter are weird and the controllers nearby...What were they...
I cover the side of my face with my hand.

"Why would they do something so brilliant and yet so stupid. Sylva do you know what roaches are?" I ask, The russians would had to have known that this was a terrible idea. I hear an angry gasp from her as I hear her stomping behind me, "Yes Lock, I know what fucking roaches are what are yo-" I interrupt her with a hand wave. "No no no, not those kind. The other kind, the Humanoid kind on the other side." I hear her stop walking towards me, looking back I can hear her sucking air through her teeth with a nervous expression all over her face.
"Lock I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about and I don't know if I want to."
I press my comms, turning toward the entrance were we burst through.
"Captain please radio command, We have a roaches here and we're gonna need flamethrower teams here, they'll need to seal the gutters and sewer system connected to this building as well over."
I hear him swearing up and down at me, prompting me to mildly adjust the volume knob till it clicks off.

"Scarlet I'm sure you know by now these aren't the roaches you'll find scampering on your floors."
My machine guns jolt to the ready as I walk toward the white insect blood and brown shit smeared operating table the russians set up, I look at the devices and the controllers they left here in disrepair. Picking one of them up I lift it to head level, noticing that the prongs and wires at the end of them are aligned to...to pierce through the roaches skulls and enter their brains. The VR headsets I imagine are so they can be controlled.

"I'll give you a quick lesson about the roaches Scarlet, they're mean nine foot tall thousand pound machines of pure power, ravenous as can be. The problem they have is that they are intelligent enough to talk, not enough to listen and they'll tear each other alive if more than five of them get together." I delicately put the brain control device on the table. "The vatniks wanted to circumvent that flaw and use them"

Looking around for documents of some kind I find a nearby computer set up on the table, equally covered in blood, guts and crap as everything else in the vicinity of this frankenstein project. I pull out of my left pocket one of my standard issue USB drive meant for data retrieval and I pull the computer forward to get at the back, pulling out the USB for the mouse then inserting the device into the computer. I wait for a bit as the gunfire come to a total halt after a twentty seconds or so I hear Scarlet making retching sounds at the smell of the roaches fluids.

"If you dont want to vomit up the dinner I made for you I'd walk back, the smell only gets worse."
I hear her blow chunks and then a weak "yeaah" in response. 

Don't let a good deed go unpunished.

It would have been nice if that impromptu dinner wasn't all in vain.

Fucking Scarlet.

My servitude under the kube has its perks, these situations don't bother me too much.
I smell the smells that everyone else does, I feel the same as everyone else does.

It just doesn't bother me too much.

The green led light shines off of the flashdrive, I yank it out as I see its completed its task. Capping it off and putting it in my pocket I twirl my forefinger in the air in one circle, my three machine guns point their barrels to the sky and I give the order to get back on board over comms. Scarlet wipes off her mouth and she starts following me. "Heya....Lock, do you mind taking me out for breakfast in the morning? Kinda lost your dinner there." I reply with a terse "No" as we make our way to the boat, I dont hear her usual seething as we board. The regular clean up teams are here in addition to the steamer teams as we call them. The pipes that connect the building being rerouted underneath and above both make a creaking colossal sound as they thud into their new connection points. 

I'm the last to board and get strapped in, Scarlet gives me a smirk and pats the seat right next to her. I contemplate taking one of our dead crew members seats instead, but the poor taste of doing so wasn't lost on me so I hid my loathing of having to sit next to her on the ride back home. The bulkhead upfront slams shut, the latches latch and the amber lights light up on the ceiling. I look at my clothes and look to my sides, a pang of contentious concern for how I smell in here caused me to be concerned. The crewmember next to my right is politely leaning away from me and looking to the left I see Scarlet looking down at me with a slight smile. 

"So..." she starts off, "Why did you call in the flamethrower team? And sealing off the building from the gutter and sewer system, whydya do that Lock?" she asks with a curious tone. Seems like shes getting into the habit of asking me questions. Maybe she has the hots for me, maybe she wants to get better and learn from me.

The former, the latter, my guess is its a bit of both.

Why me Scarlet.
"Alright, the roaches on the other side are quite large but their eggs are about the same size as they are on earth. They can lay hundreds of thousands of offspring in one go and all it takes are two to set up shop in any area...." I trail off because of what I am about to ask.
"We're both going to need to dispose of our clothes and call HQ for an exterminator for where we live after this." She groans and pouts, folding her hands over her chest. I look away after this childish stunt of hers and let out a bitter sigh.

I won't have to get rid of these clothes, One of the many things this smoldering medallion can do is pristinely clean your clothes after use like this. Feels like it just got out of the dryer too. It's one of those weird ways the kube expresses its love if you can call it that.

Only us gunlocks can understand it I guess.

My comms activate, I hear the cold dry voice of the Director talking in the background as he speaks. 

"Tonight, team leaders from Conquistador, Privateer and Poacher will be dining with me tonight at the Castle." 

Remarking on the Directors kindness I make my way up to my flat after putting on black ponchos for my three comrades. I don't want the other tenants getting spooked. The higher class residents here have fragile personalities, befitting their status in todays society. Sometimes this complex houses minor foreign dignitaries from the other side. For some reason this reminds me of the time I was unable to apologize convincingly enough last time I sped down the hall,  It is possible that my boss called them to 'convince' my residence to prevent my eviction. I  just hope I did not cause the Director a minor political inconvenience, It must not have been a terrible inconvenience for him all things considered as I still have my job.

Still, I wonder why he's inviting the six of us.

A dinner with the six of us at his place, last time I was there was during my hiring process. Thinking about this  entire situation is puzzling to me. The Directors grand concrete castle along the coast, a personal island right in the middle of Miami, Otherworlders and citizens sometimes swim or boat out there to soak in the sun on its beach for as long as they want. I found it odd that he likes it, I've seen press briefings of his before where he "Wants the young to be young and that they are welcome to come anytime" It's always something along those lines, sometimes he sends out lunch for couples on his beach and on rare occasions he will join them for a swim. The Director is quite a complex man, Ruthless as can be where its needed and friendly at all other times. A posh and formal leader yet personable. Even then he still lavishly spends on himself and his personal vision for the Miami city state, I suspect he may have exploited the favorable geopolitical situation too greatly and is extorting the companies doing business here, he being extremely close to West Atlantic Confederation prevents any overt actions against him and Miami. 

I find it hard to believe that the WAC doesn't benefit from his autonomy, Miami used to be a part of their territory and they are not known for being so...liberal with their territory. Their past campaigns in the Caribbean's, Venezuela and Brazil come to mind. They have a reputation for ruthlessness, savagery and being agreeable with certain strings attached.

One being no support for the surviving world governments.

The near mythical founder of the WAC liked a certain austrian painter quite fondly.

Thinking about the dinner now I still can't make sense of how serious this might be, Half of the team leaders of the three teams are unpleasant to be around in a civilized setting and the Directors proper mannerisms would make it quite difficult for him to deal with eating all of us. Reaching my room I shove my thoughts on this aside and unlock the door to my residence, The three guns quickly pile in. Following after them and locking the door behind I take off their ponchos one by one. Then with an affirmative point to my room, I command them to rest on the work station for cleaning and disassembly. They've soaked themselves in filth and I have to clean them before I use them again. I look along their path for any wet spots. 

Nothing, They must've dried themselves off this time.

I am glad the three are learning, its been long enough for them to develop basic reasoning. I take off my cleaned off warm boots and walk over to put them on the rack in my bedroom. "H-hi" I look and turn around, inspecting the room for the source of the noise. Finding none I draw my 1911 and make my way to my window, I open it quickly with my pistol at the ready, yet nothing is there. There isn't a note, so it can't be like that last time with that one weird winged receptionist. I hear it again "Hi!" and I find the source, It's unlucky slightly rattling. 

Out of the three this was the one I least expected to gain cognition, I take a seat and pat it on its pockmarked receiver.

I will need to make a call to a former colleague. 

Still, I think the call will have to wait.

I look out the window and the sun isn't even out, I check the time on my watch as if I needed confirmation that its too early in the morning to bother a fellow gunlock. He's out in California so it's even earlier for him. I shelve the thought of calling him as I get out my cleaning tools and start to take care of the three, The blissful relaxation of mind I enter into when cleaning my guns begins as soon as I scrub with my brush. I get through Unlucky and get halfway through cleaning Lucky as I start to think about that one fellow lock who bothers to take my calls. His job at California can't be worse than mine, It's one of the few places in the world doing fairly well, the state has its crime sure but it's nowhere near under the pressures the east coast is under with the federal governments constant nanny like demands for reintegration, Texas and the former state of Florida putting up a strong resistance to it. California has sat back and enjoyed relative peace during all of this, Their incursions weren't the worst and although they experienced the anarchy of the convergence they bounced back fairly quickly.

Albeit under more sane management.

Back before I was changed I would've mocked them.

I'm not sure why I've been thinking about those early years.

I guess its a convenient reference point for how I should act around others, I've made attempts to be more social towards my coworkers. Even towards Scarlet as much as it pains me to do so.  I do not think I have succeeded so far, but I will continue. 

No need to be as cold as I was back with my former 'employer', The coldness forced and incentivized by the cube isn't useful for my situation. 

No I need to become more of a "team player" as my boss says, For the first year or so I nodded through that one command. I simply did not know how to do that. Eventually I decorated my room with the things I collected over the years, thinking that changing my minimalist surroundings might lead to some sort of personality. I tried bonsai thinking that if I changed something else I could change myself. I just perfectly copied the differing styles of bonsai, Cascade, Slanting, Formal upright, Informal upright, all that was different about it was the wood and the leaves. I tried cooking in the same way, I just made a one to one copy of it till I thought to use a different kind of pepper in my roast. 

I guess thats when I started being human again, The fellow gunlock I would have called is able to converse yet he is far behind me. Even then, that is impressive for our types, I suspect he might be taking notes to pass along to the other ones like us. Standard information dissemination, we used to be able to do so when required vicariously while our minds were connected. 

I hope I'm helping them.

 I remember that cool, peaceful trance.

I feel the same way as I did back then cleaning these three. I finish with Lucky and I check the time on my watch. The supermarket opens in two hours, I'll be finished with Siggy soon.

So

What do I do now?

I could sleep for an hour, sure, and get in the sleep that I needed earlier.

I could do that anytime though.

What do I do?

I get a text message on my phone just then, Looking through I can see that Scarlet messaged me the time and dressing etiquette instructions. The thought of Scarlet in a formal dress is...entertaining.

Is this what amusement feels like?

Another thought. The thought of Lucas, the commander of Poacher team, that massive Swede, a former Volsang operative from the other side.

That guy?

That guy in a suit and tie?

Ridiculous, I doubt he even owns a jacket let alone a suit.

I let out a chuckle and then quickly stop.

....I dont believe that just happened. 

I will have to tell my former colleague about this.

Later on in the day though, I think I will go to the beach and see the sun rise since I am feeling so...happy.

That would be quite nice. 

I rest my chin on the palm of my hand as I look out the morning sun glistening along the crystal blue waters of the canal. People of various sizes, shapes and types make their way on the ships and on the streets. The sheer variety of men and women here is uncountable, its hard for me to fathom that this exists during these days where the wars their arrival brought about still intensely rage. They dress in the latest fashions, carrying the apparatuses of yesteryear in the palms of their hand, much of it is like what it was before the portals. This realization does not sway me much, I make note of it and shelve it aside. I go to check my phone at the sound of its chime, Its the director and he has issued a revision. Turns out we're going to be wrapped up in his meeting with the foreign dignitaries in three days. Given how the past mission must've frayed his nerves I imagine he's taking the next three days to wade on shores of his beach castle.

Three days.

All to myself.

What do I do.

The thought preoccupies my time for almost half an hour, going from one idea to the next. One idea becomes more dominant and I check my bank balance for confirmation. Checking: 121,158.32, Savings: 237,635.13. That comes to no surprise for me, I haven't spent my paycheck on much of anything aside from the furniture, the plants and the food. All of those were expensive as can be, but I haven't bought anything over a hundred this year. Money is something that I acquire from my job, I've never cared to work for money but with this job I accept it as I have needs and my previous coworkers may come in need as well. It is a difficult thing for me to think in terms of myself, us gunlocks think in "We" and not "I".

This will be another thing I will tell my colleague, that I went out shopping for new things that I did not need or had no reason to acquire.

The outlandishness of this makes me feel off, I'm in uncharted waters here. I look for clothing shops for men, gun stores, electronics shops and restraunts. I go to my walk in closet, looking through my eight outfits. Seven are black long-sleeved shirts and dark denim jeans. The eighth is a navy twill suit with a black turtleneck, stored away since I got this job. The rest of the walk in closet is preoccupied with my arsenal, Rocket propelled grenade launchers, parts guns for my favorite three machine guns, a HK 33, Several 1911's and their individual holsters and a warpstone meant for applying the vorpal enchantment onto the ammo I'll use on my job. Its quite delicate and these things are worth millions, It was another generous gift granted to me by the cube for the duties I preformed.

It was quite generous.

I wish I would just be given what I needed like It used to be.

I look around here and then I think another ridiculous thought.

Why don't I ask Scarlet for help?

Now that would be a shot in the dark and from what I know about her she wouldn't be able to help, she would just get on my nerves and cause a incident at a drop of the hat. I have never messaged Lucas and that might not be a bad option. He is quite a jolly man, boisterous and friendly. I've heard the janitor crew tell me about the mess he makes after he does his job, He is quite good at his job. The thought of making a friend with a viking is appealing. I then shift to the head man of team privateer, a half devil man who was the son of one of the moccasins greatest earlier fighters. He takes after his legendary dad, He is just as much as a vicious and brutal berserker as Lucas but as wiley and crafty as they come. Still, I don't want to hang around him at the moment. I don't know how to hang around someone like that. 

He's the youngest on the team and its still up in the air if he isn't reassigned elsewhere in Florida on account of him not being a citizen of the Miami state and a Colonel in the WAC military. He is in too deep with our northern neighbors and his presence has caused the Director some amount of political controversy in the world press, still he hasn't been reassigned, which has caused the press to wonder why.

They are the same pack of idiots wearing trench coats waving around microphones as they always were.

I've decided to go it alone, and just shop for swim wear. I think I'll go to one of these famous beach resorts I've heard my coworkers talk about from time to time. They've alluded to the waitresses and servers being quite voluptuous in the past, the off world cuisine being quite delectable as well. Though I am not sure what was or wasn't suggestive, Shark cakes do sound tasty.

...

I'm sure they didn't mean that, nobody would want those people they can barely get through the doors they are so tall. I wave the thought away and begin to change clothes, getting dressed I put on my tinted glasses and sling on my stainless longslide. My favorite 1911, I carried this yesterday with the fifteen round magazines. I take note of it then style my straight blonde hair to the side as it is the popular way of doing things here.

Time to go out and buy some swim trunks.

I close up the steel latches inside the door and lock it, I look left and right down both ends of the hallway. Nobody is there, I hear some loud electronic music from the end which causes me to pause and listen intently for a moment. 

I do not know that song.

I remark and then take the elevator down to the reception, the cheerful winged receptionist blinks once, smiles widely and waves frantically at me as she thanks me for "My service". I take a moment to nod and smile at her, a slight departure from my usual stone cold deflection of her happy demeanor. I figured this might be something I start doing as well, my desire to be courteous has won out over my thoughts on the useless small gestures people perform. I see her eyes widen with slight surprise and she goes back to her work behind the desk. 

As far as harpies go the phrase "Bird winged, bird brained" describes them quite well, one of the elf gardeners I infrequently chat with introduced me to that phrase. Something elvish follows before and after it and he has tried to convey the meaning behind it. I have never been particularly apt with the elvish ways, too variable and different for my tastes.

Flegri'in is a good elf.

I pull out the keys to the buildings upper level parking lot and open them up. Not many people are allowed to own cars as the roads on the upper levels are cramped and usually reserved for the rich and vital personnel. I'm one of twenty car owners at this complex and my 1977 Pontiac Trans am sits in the second spot, polished white and pristine. It was a gift from the Directors personnel collection after a year of working with Scarlet and team conquistador, I haven't understood his favoritism towards me and I don't know how I can show my appreciation. A simple thanks would seem weak.

My thoughts are pushed aside as I open the drivers seat and hop in the car, like the exterior the interior is spotless. I take a moment to plug in some music and then I turn the keys, the engine roars to life and rumbles with that old world iconic American charm. A beautiful thing from a distant time, I think as I shift into first and take off out of the parking lot and onto the nearly empty two lane streets. When they rebuilt Miami they made each building side have their own street, with four optional turns one can take, to the left on the other side, forward and to take a right on the other side. Its convoluted, and I cannot describe it well but it was designed to never be used for high traffic.

I will only be able to drive part of the way as these streets only cover so much of the city.

It keeps the miles on my car low at the very least.

The song reminds me of a person I was but no longer am, I try and listen to the electronic chiptune music and vocals to try and figure out my own mystery. I shelve the thought as I pull out of the automatic armored door to the streets outside. The traffic isn't too bad for a monday morning, nonexistent as always with the crowded noises below and sound of barges and skiff taxi gondolas churning the crystal blue waters underneath. I turn right to go straight toward the multilevel mall on the coast of the beach, Its touristy and yet is one of the better ones in town. Its the only place I know that sells swim gear. The drive is uneventful, turning the wheel with its slight play and the electronic music playing in the car keeps me occupied enough to arrive at the Seaside mall. 

Its glass walled exterior is from pre convergence, the brackets holding the panes have some oxidation yet the shine of the polished glass keeps one from noticing the age of the building. These types of buildings were condemned en masse when Miami was under direct control of the West Atlantics north of us, if this one was not it must have been deemed suitable for another twenty years. I turn on my right signal as the man behind the glass slit above the armored door to the mall presses a button to open it.

The west atlantics always cared about public safety.

I pull in and park my car, locking the doors I make my way to the security at the entrance showing my permit as I do so. Taking it out of my hand he looks to the photograph of myself on it and then blankly at my face to verify. Nodding he hands it back and gives a two fingered salute off of his brow with a small smirk. "Enjoy your time at the mall" He says as I walk past him, the automatic doors open and I am greeted with the extravagant display of feminine beauty products on this floor. The overpowering fragrance of this floor is not to my liking, the women dressed in fashions fifty, forty, thirty, twenty or so years back is odd to see. Maybe some sort of fashion clubs are meeting on this floor or something, but that is definitely an oddity of itself. The clothes from those times were mostly created out of desperation and utility for those years with the exception of the oldest sort of clothes, those were made at the start of the chaos thats still raging to this day.

Perhaps these are poorer women, there are more monster types on this floor than normal so thats my best guess. 

I know very little about women's fashion, I believe I read two articles on it when I was stuck writing performance reviews for the squad members on my team. I've been told that I've graded harshly, but I expect nothing less from the team I lead. I tune out the crowds of women with the goods on this floor blurred out entirely, I notice some give me off glances of concern at the sight of the 1911 holstered on my shoulder and some other barely hidden stares of a type I'm unsure to make of.

Flirtatious looks, but I don't care as I am almost to the escalator to the top floor. Someone amongst the crowd catches my eye before I go to the mens floor. Scarlets there, trying on black shoes and carrying some clothes. I can see she is having quite abit of trouble finding shoes that fit her, Even nowadays I guess tall women can't catch a break. The pile of red or black dresses suggests she's shopping for the meeting with our director. Ignoring her I do my best to blend in as to not catch her attention as I step onto the escalator. 

I am successful, and at the last moment I see her facial muscles tense up as she tries another pair of black dress shoes. With that out of the way I am now presented with my next task. 

Finding swim trunks to wear to the beach. 

If I were a woman I have no doubt there would be cries of sexual harassment as I check behind myself at the mixed features of the monsterkin behind me. I ignore them and turn to the right as I look back past them and around the corner past the jewelry to the center of my mission. An aisle labelled swimwear shows where I must go, the small number of my followers disperses to the lower floor. I can only hope it wasn't because of the sight of their husbands or significant others who may be on this floor, I pass the the Jewelry section where something catches my eye.

That old style casio watch, a casio royale no less but in gold. I had one of those back in the days, as an adventurer in the other world. I glance at the clerk behind the counter, his dark hair and swarthy complexion would have been illegal not too long ago and his presence is an anomaly in these parts. His aloof lack of awareness at behind the counter is annoying, I stare at him more then back at the watch then back at him. 

"Excuse me, how much is that watch?" I ask, tapping at the glass pointing at it. His eyes drift away from his phone and he greets me with a welcoming smile. "Which one?" he asks in reply, moving to open the door for my inspection. "The gold casio royale." I reply with his smile is greeted by my flat affect, he glances down still smiling as he pulls it out. "Y'look quite young for one of these man, lotta old adventurer types opt for onna these. It's priced at 295." he holds it out with his olive skinned hands and I gently reach out for it, trying it on I slightly grin. "Whos to say Im not an old adventurer?" I reply and fetch a seven fifty marked bills. "Keep the change." I reply, much to his glowing happiness as he looks left and right as he pockets the remainder. I turn and walk another set of paces towards the swimwear aisle and here is where I will have to decide what to wear.

I pace around, for twenty or so minutes passing one or two men who make their decisions on what to wear before I have begun to weigh my options. I step back from the aisle and cusping my chin I tap the side of it with my index finger in thought. Two options, Black trunks and a black speedo. I don't lack anything down there so the speedos an option if I ever want a decent tan, then again the swim trunks may be more social acceptable. But then again, I have never gone to any of the social functions at the office. I finally decide on the speedo as I may find that I like how I tan, I have an unnatural pale that would match the skin tone of troglodyte salamanders quite well. Who knows, I'll try it out.

I don't plan on looking anywhere near as tanned as the Director, his days in the fields and swamps of Florida have tanned his skin to leather.

Still he is quite a hit with the ladies.

I pick up both the swim trunks and the speedo and make my way to the swarthy fellow again to pay for the two items. It comes out to a reasonable forty and I pay with a fifty again tipping him the remainder. He said his name was Kyle and that he was quite grateful, It appears he is a decent sort. Though I imagine thats so because the Miami state only recently started allowing a very limited amount of work visas into the state and theres no doubt in my mind that hes carrying one of them. 

Knowing our visa system he'll be back wherever he came in five years.

I take the elevator to the ground floor hoping to bypass any unwarranted encounters with the type of opposite sex congregating on the floor below me. I press the button labelled G, finding myself joined with a very built yet grey haired old man leaned against the wall. Much to our misfortune our elevator is stopped at the floor below and several of these types I tried to avoid pile in. Their attempts to rub on us are unreciprocated, the Old mans gold twist marriage ring doing little to thwart him. I see what appears to be a black tamagachi clutched in his hand.

A single tear rolls down his cheek. 

I swear I've seen this man before.

I see his eyes lock with mine and I see his fierce intent throughout his face. His stern face and tightened facial muscles angered, I imagine I witnessed something he would have rather been private. I show him the palm of my hand, gesturing to take it easy as I try to convey to him that I meant no harm. Still he glares for awhile, then moves his gaze to the floor. The next door opens and the immodest crowd of women flow out of the elevator, dissatisfied with our unwillingness to acknowledge their presence. Its just the two of us alone now, I hear him fold his wide muscled arms over his chest as he begins to lick his lips.

"My son has talked about you before, You're the leader of Conquistador team correct?"

My brows raise in unison at this. So this is his father, that legendary veteran of the Moccasins. From what I've read he was the model for their special forces, an autodidact of warfare. Supposedly he was one of the first to cross through the portals in this state. He certainly looks the part, His physique would be the envy of men forty years his junior. 

I slight smirk etches itself along my right cheek.

"Yes I am Sir, You must be the father of Natas. He is certainly trying to fill his fathers shoes considering his record."

He nods twice, licks his lips to moisten them scratching at the grey stubble on the side of his face.

"Well Natas sure is trying to do something alright."

Perhaps he doesn't approve?  Theres a pause as the elevator reaches ground level, the chime dings and the doors open but there we stand. I step out first, right before the door automatically closes behind us with the old man following suit soon after, He turns right to where the ferry boats dock and I turn left toward the restraunts along the beach.

"Take care Sir..." I say waving behind my head, as I turn my head slightly to look for him. I see that he is facing right at me pointing something at me, I turn and move my hand close to my 1911. He was just pointing finger guns at me with a grinning smile on his face. I am reminded of Hannibal Lector from the silence of the lambs right then and there. "You can call me Psycho, Lock. I know you well, we fought against each other during that war god cubes campaigns against the dwarves. But those were different times long since passed, and I've grown old where you've stayed young...." He cocks his head toward my shouldered 1911. "Would've been a despicable thing to gun down an old man like that Lock, Glad your reflexes haven't aged too." 

I move my hand away from my 1911 and back to my side, A former enemy from a war long ago. Whats more, I did not know we ever fought against each other. How could that be so? I would remember something like that unless...

Unless the memory had been erased by the cube.

I give him a two finger salute off of my brow.

"You were always a great warrior Psycho and that hasn't changed with time, I hope you enjoy the rest of your day." Seeing that he has been set at ease with this I turn around with the last thing I see of Psycho being his characteristic sharp toothed grin. Its not everyday you get to see an honored hero of the West Atlantic states.

I grin and walk towards the beachside restraunt I picked out for lunch, I'm quite interested in the different sushi the monster people in these restraunts brought over from the other side. Its not everyday I get to try sea serpent sushi, though It would have been better if the two of us could have eaten together. Two old veterans talking about their time after their war, I wonder how that would have gone.

It would have been quite interesting. 

Still I am sure he has places to be.

I might see him again at the directors celebration, I'm sure we can discuss those times then. I focus my gaze towards the open air restraunt, styled in the stereotypical Hawaiian style often seen along the beaches of Florida. This place is usually packed, despite its modest size its known for its excellent food. I notice that everyone else around me is dressed in their swimwear, their varying sizes and shapes are too much for me. The paralyzing variety of the peoples in this city gets to me sometimes, I've fought the nations of many of these people and seen what they are like. To see them together in  happy peace strikes me as unnatural. 

I've pulled up a tall chair along the bar, I kick some of the sand off of my shoes onto the sea salt weathered wooden floor. I hear laughter and shouts of joy behind, I look around to see men and women enjoying themselves with what they've brought with them. I see dwarf men build sand castles out of moistened sand, The elves sunbathing with drinks in their hands, the races accustomed to swimming swim in the blue waters and the ones that are not play in the sand. Its enough for me to prompt an unintended smile across my face, I feel that someone is standing in front of me. My waitress waiting patiently for my order.

"Oh uh, Can I get a Pina colada?" I find myself saying automatically, nodding and with a smile she goes to fulfill my request.

That was...Odd.. 

That past instance where I let myself happily reflect on the state of the people around me, the request I made without any thought.

Not at all what I am, I guess this mission has been a success. I look over the menu and decide to try the sea serpent sushi. Its a highly potent magical meat, its known to make people energetic. I think it would be interesting to feel its effects and as the waitress comes back with my drink I request this dish and hand her my menu. I wait around for the food, I look to my left to find a couple of some unknown other world race laughing together talking in their native language. I look to the right and find...

Scarlet.

Staring at me.

Great.

The expression on her face is hard to divine, her choice in attire some how compounds my confusion. A straw sun hat and a pure white sun dress, I see her swimwear underneath through it as well, quite disinteresting to me. The facial expression on her face are peeved and curiosity together in equal parts from what I can tell, perhaps she expected me to tell her I would be here. If she thought she would never see me outside of work again then she would have been correct. My eyes dart away for a moment then I lock eyes with her again, I have a slight frown on my face as she continues her uncomfortable stare, sipping her margarita with a straw. I am unsure how to navigate out of this, I simply do not want to have to deal with her immature antics today. 

"Its quite rude to stare Scarlet, What are yo-." 
"Fuck off. Why are you here Lock?" She asks, abruptly cutting me off.

Typical.

"I wanted to do something different, I thought I could go out for a swim in peace." I tell her as I look to the waitress bringing my plate of sea serpent sushi to me, The presentation is quite wonderfully done the dense white flesh of the sea serpent contrasting well with the orange other world tempura kelp and black seseame seed sprinkled wild rice. I clasp my hands together quickly thanking God and then I grasp the chopsticks in my hands. She continues to stare without a care with that curious, predatory stare of hers.

"Is there something you want to ask me Scarlet?" I ask, I'll begin to eat after she responds.
 
She huffs one long puff and cocks her head to the side. "Yeah sure, isn't it rude to eat before everyones had their food?" Now that had to be a dig at me, but it appears she isn't done as she points her free index finger towards my plate. "I didn't know you were a praying man Lock, Isn't that what you would call a...Spiritual conflict of interests?"

Now this is new, instead of her usual rash and belligerent childish anger she is trying to put the screws to me with her words. While I applaud her efforts to try and get underneath my skin It would be easier for her to move a car sized boulder down the street than her to provoke an emotional response from me. Still, it would be better if she....Fucked off, as most people say.

"Scarlet theres a lot that you don't know about me and you struggle with remembering even the stuff I've publicly disclosed. But to answer your question, No I am not much of one and I am not bound by the kube anymore." I go and pick up one of the pieces of sushi with my chopsticks and take it into my mouth, chewing it while I look at the muscles on her face twitch. "And as much as I would have liked it to be, we aren't together in this meal Scarlet." 

Now at this she calms down and lets out a sigh, breaking her stare to close her eyes as she breathes out.

Thats....Unexpected.

"Well alright, I guess I shouldn'tve been so pushy." She says as she goes to get up.

Incredible, Absolutely incredible.

Now this is progress that I have to reward. She has never, not once, practiced this level of self awareness before. Hm...What do I do... I try and think of something on the spot. This is an opportunity for me to save myself from future headaches.

"How about having a meal together for dinner, right here after we hang out on the beach." I ask her as I see her halt her progress walking away, her clenched fists turn upwards for whatever reason as the muscles on her arms tense up. "S-so its a date?" this catches me off guard and I stay silent for several moments trying to process this and weigh my options.

Well why not.

"Yes." I tersely reply as I see the waitress place her plate with a half pound hamburger on it, She is still standing there tensed up straight as can be. 

"Your hamburger is ready Scarlet." At this she takes a moment and turns to sit back down and eat her meal, her pale white face appears quite flushed as is her neck.

What is wrong with her.

Looks like the swim trunks I bought will fit well.

We finished up with our meal and soon I'll change into clothes suited for the beach, Scarlets cackling laughter made at my expense still rings in my ears. I didn't really care to much for her poking fun at the way those guys "Exploded into a million pieces" during our last operation

Have some respect for the dead at the very least.

I look around at the bathroom stall walls of the sushi shack are made of planks of driftwood weathered by the salt of the sea and I was pleasantly surprised that it wasn't too odorous. There's a minimal amount of graffiti on the walls, scribble scrabbles of new world languages. Wood elvish up there, Plains dwarvish down there and some other script that I cannot recognize, its paired with a triangle with three needles pointing inwards. Perhaps a sigil of some kind, such magic is outlawed in the Miami state and punishable by a hefty fine or imprisonment. I hover my hand to the right of it and focus on the erasure spell then moving over it as the dull white light shimmers out of my hand.

It was more likely than not a simple voice recording, but I have no idea what its purpose was.

I put on my swim trunks as I think about whether or not the Miami State is justified in their punitive measures against commoners using magic. I turn to look at the sides of the trunks, the offputting dark green and red floral pattern looked a lot better in the mall. I tighten the waist one again. The last thing I want is for these to come down in front of Scarlet.

I shelve that thought and cross examine my own thought on the strictness or firmness of my now home states law code. My usual rare care for such abstracts seems to becoming all the more common as of late. I don't really see the point in weighing the scales on that issue, I'm fine with them at a base level and I've always found those obsessed about maximizing their rights as particularly annoying.

Besides I have something else I need to think about. 

I've just put on my swim trunks, Still my pistol rests in its chest holster but the leather now touches my bare pale skin. It will chaff my skin but I have no other choice other than to carry it in such way. I'm not going to put it in the bag. I grab my wallet out of my pants neatly bagged in the clothe tote provided by the store. I unlock the bathroom stall with it held in my left hand, ready to go out and go on a date with the blonde beast.

I cant believe I agreed to that, ready to go out to the beach and burn in the sun I walk out of the stall with my barefeet.

I open the door and the sun shines directly into my eyes, scarlet standing somewhere in front of me. She waves towards the beach and beckons me to come forward.

Maybe this wont be too bad.

With a slim grin creeping along my face I run out towards Scarlet she ceases her calling for me and turns towards the beach, picking up a beach ball as she walks out of view past the dunes. Clutching my bag I run out onto the powdery white beach sands. 

The heat at first burns, but I acclimate to it. I wasn't expecting that, but I continue to jog towards her. My chest holster is chaffing on my bare skin. I get to the top of the dune and find that our spot isn't crowded at all. 

I find that odd, something about that just doesn't sit right...

But no matter, the beach is popular but not such that the entire length of it would be crowded. It used to be different before convergence happened, used to be everyone from around the world went to these beaches to party and soak in the sun. Packed in like Sardines...

Something round forcefully hits the side of my face. 

My wandering gaze along the shores interrupted by Scarlet throwing the ball at me.

"Come on throw it back Lock!" She says with cheer, laughing so hard her eyes are almost squinted shut.

I chuckle.

Ok ok, I shouldn't have been distracted. Thats on me Scarlet.

"Haha! Alright!" I respond, grasping the beach ball with both of my hands to throw back at her.

The cerulean waters splash and churn around as we toss the beach ball around. I realized I got caught away laughing all the time that's gone by some time ago. 

I didn't care, this is great! I feel truly alive, alive like a person I'd see with a smile on the streets passing by. I might've done it this time, gained back what made me me all those lost years ago, From a time that I do not remember. Now in a time that I hope to always remember, All the time Scarlets been an annoying bi-.. person, has faded away for now. I hope that feeling of her never returns. She motions to the beach shore holding the ball on her side,"Come on! Lets lay and watch the sunset!" I happily oblige with a smile as we run back to our towels. Laughing together we drink a beer together as we look out to the dusk lit sky.

Never in my life I thought I would kiss Scarlet, but we did so with our backs to the dunes and our faces illuminated by the sun.

There we decided to see how things play out, but I knew it would work out.

I think she knew as well.

I lay her on my bed thinking back to that time on the beach, curled up in my grey sheets, ready to go to sleep. Trying as hard as I can to figure out how this will end up, how this will work out. Shoot I'll have to read up on relationships in the workplace, I never thought to read that section. Never was a concern of mine at the time.

Never really thought my ice heart would melt so quickly.

Though I am acting so sure of myself now, How am I convinced it wont be back to how I was?

How I was?

How I am.

I'm still the same man.

And with that thought, I shut my eyes and go rest a good nights sleep. 
This morning I've decided to go out to the 'commissariat' with Greg, I decided to invite him out of the blue to celebrate him surviving the raid on the russians. He seemed surprised that I would do this and he is right to be. Normally my consideration for workplace professionalism would prevent me from doing anything like this with any of my coworkers. 

I take some time to stop my thoughts to pour a pancake onto the cooking pan, Nice and evenly...

...Greg is one of the longest serving members serving in conquistador teams rapid response units and he didn't rotate out when he completed his service. Rapid response units in Miami have a reputation for dealing with the worst of the worst of both worlds, Each team has one and each precinct has one, with the underground sewer-drainage system having its own unique one. They are called "Troll team" and they're possibly the oldest team in Miami, they were originally founded by a specific Moccasin unit sent down to the south to secure the city. 

They are equal to any of the three teams as far as capabilities go, funding wise they are equipped with state of the art equipment offered by the West Atlantics. Which is not supposed to be possible, Parsifal Industries was prohibited from doing business here by the Director as part of his "Loosening" campaign to attract foreign businesses, we have to get our equipment from a subsidiary that branched off from Parsifal around that time or we have to pay with it out of our own pocket.

...I flip the perfectly browned pancake onto my plate with bacon and eggs, I take it up to the table and set it next to the silverware I leave out for the guests I may likely never invite...

...Greg was originally from Troll team and his team foiled an Islamist plot around the time when I requested his assignment to conquistador team. Since we handled our own equipment procurement I made sure that he could acquire, use and get parts for his equipment. A little bit more paperwork than I would have liked, but it was worth it.

And today I am going to buy him a gun from the 'Commissariat', one of the most well stocked and exclusive gunstores in the city. Thankfully with our requisition licenses and my position we can shop there together. Theres a chance we'll find some of the rifles used by the Russians we cleared out, the shop owner of the Commissariat keeps a laser eyed focus on the free states surplus and repo auctions. 
However those will be likely bought before we arrive at the store, Kalashnikov rifle collectors in this city are constantly out for a new piece to hang up on their wall or put in their safe. I learnt about this from browsing their groups for bringback rifles from the otherside, for whatever reason they have deep pockets. 

Maybe they were in the mob all this time?

Perhaps.

I put the dishes in the dishwasher after cleaning them, I then pull my phone out of my pocket and give Greg a call.

"Greg, this is Lock. Are you ready to rendezvous at the commissariat?"

I wait for abit, It seems as if he is just getting his shoes on.

"S-sure thing Bossman! I'm getting out the door right now!"

This is a boldface lie, this runs counter to his workplace reputation.

"Understood Greg, My ETA should be...30min." I say as I push the button on my gold casio wristwatch. 
Greg arrived on time.

There he is with his Toyota truck, the thing will likely never touch roads on the ground ever again but he insisted on getting something that would "Last his entire life". In our line of work that type of confidence is admirable, if out of place. We all know we can die everytime we strap on our gear and head out for an assignment, Even I am not so certain.

Gregs leaning on the passenger door with his eyes staring at the garage doors opening to my trans am. He's wearing a floral patterned bandana tied ontop of his head with tinted aviators, these are the only articles of clothing differing from his usual attire which he wears to work. His choice in attire, black silver thread pearl button up dress shirt, dark navy blue jeans and leather waxi boots always struck me as him dressing to impress yet showing off his personality. He surely is a cut above the rest.

Parking right by his car and getting out of mine he goes to greet me with a handshake.

Which I accept, "It's nice to meet outside of the office Lock...Am I the first one you've met outside of the workplace?" He asks while we're still shaking hands. "No, but you are the second." This is met with an inquisitive, curious expression on his face that comes suddenly after I finish my sentence.

"...The second? Who else could you have..." He's trying to figure it out, but it looks like no one else comes to mind.

"So, The commissariat huh? You've got a membership and everything with them huh?" 

I flash my Diamond membership card.

"Yes I do, I have been to all thirty eight gunstores within the Miami state and they have both the best selection and most unique selection at that. Price is abit higher, but they are the only ones I've ever seen stock an original Volsung group modified RPD and whats more one without the barrel shot out from long use."

His eyes are wide at that statement.

"Really? Thats incredible, Man that gives me hope. I've been praying to find something rare like that for awhile."
The thick steel doors open and we behold the glory of the guns before us.

The store is a welcoming sight, whenever I'm here I will smile without fail. There's racks and racks of repo'd and sourced guns from around the WAC, Backpacks and camo nets hang from the ceiling and the fuming cigar smoke from the gold chain wearing german owner. He wears a stainless white wife beater and Jeans every day along with his issued Moccasin hat in their old palmetto camouflage, always a smile on his face when it sits on his head. I heard rumors of him earning a silver cross with palms when he served years ago, He earned a hefty pension from his service and it would explain how he's been able to outcompete all the gunstores in Miami. He smiles and waves to me.

"Looking for something special Herr Lock?" he asks as he nods upward toward Greg "..Or maybe something for him?"

Greg waves at him with a smile, he nods at him "So something for him?"

"Yep, this might be a shot in the dark...But you'd be the only one in Miami to have a Groza right?"

He grimaces and sucks in his teeth, The one thing he doesn't have I guess.

"Yes I have one, unfortunately I only have three mags for it and the finish has seen better days. The story is it was built and used by one of the first custom gun smiths that worked with the Moccasins. Its well done and I can verify the backstory, but the price is steep..."

I stroke my chin once then raise my palm to ask a question.

"So...How much?"

He leans back in his chair and stares up in the ceiling in thought, he stays seated like this for ten seconds and then looks back to us.

"Five thousand conches or a tenth of a bitcoin, I have plenty of other rarities that are cheaper though..."

Greg wafts this away. 

"No no, this is what I've been waiting for. Can I see it?"

The German slowly shakes his head to his sides and gets up from his seat.

"I'll go looking for it, feel free to look around I'm not sure where I put it."
As we check around the store I look around at the warehouse shelves stocking vests, shirts, pants, knives, its all here from the beginning of the last century. The commissariats inventory has expanded and it seems to expand more and more every time I come here. The German keeps everything tidy, but cramped on increasingly higher and loaded shelves, the bright LEDs are filtered by the camo nets and tarps that hang overhead, dappled light piercing through in patches. The bare concrete walls are barely visible, stuck to them are uniforms from around the world with guns from those periods of time. A total labyrinthian maze of equipment, I've misplaced Gregg. Greggs lost in the surplus, I have no idea where he is. 

 Then suddenly..."Aha! I've found it! Come up to the front, I've found your Groza!"

The German has appeared from his gunstore cellar, I look over and find it sitting neatly on the tablefront. The luster of the black finish is still nice to look at from this distance, although I can see the wear and scrapes of the finish from here. Standard wear patterns around the dust cover and the bolt from the looks of it. I hear rustling as Gregg makes his way from the far back to check on his soon to be latest purchase.

"What do you think Gregg?" I ask as he appears, breathing heavily as he gazes upon it, I see the twinkle in his eyes and know he approves.

"Its....Exactly what I've wanted!" He says as he picks it up gingerly, much to Germans shock and reluctance...

"Please ask me before you touch my merchandise next time." He says matter of factly as he chuckles/

"Oh sorry!" He handles it around, looking down the sights onto the floor. "Can I rack the bolt back?" He asks, looking at German, "Sure! Its an Ak...Kind of... You can't do worse than its previous owners!" the reply is met with a nod and a loud crack of its bolt carrier being pulled back and let go off, He does this twice, thrice and then a fourth time till he pulls the trigger.

The sound of the hammer falling produces a smile on his face.

"I'll take it."

"Well now thats settled, I'll buy it and have it wrapped up with my shipment payment. Same as last time, I just need .45 ACP from the 'Select batch' as per usual" I say as I produce my platinum mercury card out of my wallet. "Sure thing, Thats quite the gift Lock....Say, Have you been taking zoloft or something? You're more..." he waves the open palm of his hand at me "Human? I hate to be rude but...Whats gotten into you?" I look at him dead in the face with my stone cold expression. 

"I've finally figured out how to be human, my...Girlfriend...helped me find out how." I say, my stone cold demeanor broke through with a smile and a eyebrow raise for the grand reveal. This produces expressions of shock on Greggs face while German smiles in approval as he holds his stogie inbetween his finger tips.

"Good job man!" He says, Gregg is struggling with this but eventually he asks "Is it...Is it with who I think it is?" I look at him in the eyes with a smirk "Yep, Scarlet the raging princess herself."

"The directors daughter?"

What?
I seem to instinctively go back to the way I was as my eyes dart left to right back and forth. Scarlet is....The Directors daughter? The same director I'll have to meet with tomorrow? This wont be an issue, I doubt she told him this early on into our relationship. The German and Gregg both stare at me without saying a word, "Y'alright bossman? Y'kinda blanked out on us." Gregg asks. 

"I didn't know that."

"It's not public knowledge, I figured you would've known or at the very least she'd have told you.." German says, Biting his lip as he looks away. He might've said something he wasn't supposed to say. Its quite risky for anyone to reveal secrets about the higher ups in the WAC, people here still hold onto the vital skill of shutting their mouths when it comes down to secrets. I heard that in the early years of the Moccasin group they would punish loose lips by using them as a punching bag for an entire day. German served in the WAC, he's too young to have served with the Moccasins, but I know for a fact that practice still continues in some divisions. 

"That secret is safe with me German, You wouldn't have told anyone else that." I say to German who had a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face. He gives me a finger gun and a nervous laugh. "Thanks Lock, You've been a good customer for me..." he slides a slip of paper to me. "If you've ever got time, you can call me on this number between 5 and 7 in the day. I've been meaning to show you my 'Select wares' for some time." with a mute stare into his eyes I take the slip, crisply fold it with pinched fingers once and put it in my pocket. 

He knew that secret could cost him his life.

If she is so important to the Director, she shouldn't be serving team conquistador as second in charge.

People who have that line of thinking don't live for long if they're rubbing shoulders with the "higher ups". I should know that by now, so why did I think that? Concern for Scarlets safety? I feel this warmness in my chest when I say her name.

"Thank you very much German, I'll check that out soon" I take my card from him as he hands it off, Greggs Groza gets wrapped up in a paper bag along with the three magazines, out of the corner of my eye I see him smiling as he holds onto it tightly. I felt cold all of a sudden, I can't look around I just look forward as I open the door and walk to my Transam. "Hey Lock! Is everything alri-" He stops, no doubt seeing that I've gone back to the way I was. This thought causes me some remorse, I twirl around to see him with a smile and a wave goodbye. 

"Take care Gregg! I hope you like your Groza"

Gregg grins widely and shoots his hand into the air to wave as he nears his truck, opening the door and laying the Groza in the passenger seat he shoots his head back to laugh. He starts the truck and drives off home. That man is entirely different on the job, he does a good job of separating his work persona from his actual personality. 

I'll have to take notes, this might be useful for my colleague.

I open the door to my Transam and start the car, out of curiosity I dial the radio to the news channel and hear the feminine voice of the broadcaster throughout the cars stereo. "...We've noticed a substantial lockdown occurring on the Directors private island, no doubt a diplomatic summit of some kind is being held. This is just speculative, but the current situation with the Federal government to the north and the Texan Governor have brought the West Atlantic Confederation into a state of military readiness, the first since the Northern blitz of 2033. Tensions are high as the French have promised to not intervene in Texan affairs yet have not responded to their counterparts in Washington...' I shut off the radio before the other broadcaster speaks. 

News radio seems to have gone downhill in quality since they let go of their previous broadcaster. 

I shift into reverse and back out of the parking spot, then shift into drive with a jolt and drive off.

The drive back was uneventful yet picturesque.

Driving down the Ocean way road is a wonderful experience, feeling the sun rays warm your skin as the ocean breeze wafts through your car; nothing beats it. You have to watch out though, this is the one road that has a large enough median to park a car along the side, Foreigners and newlyweds will often park and drink something of their choosing together as they look out into the horizon. Recently there was a rumor that the Director wanted to rename it to "St. Valentines highway" as its the only real road that could be considered a highway in this city, I've rolled down the windows and I've just passed a black VW beetle parked along the causeway. That was Psycho talking with Natas.

I wonder what its like to be a father.

Maybe I'll know one day.

I turn on the radio, Veteran of the psychic wars reverberates through my transam as I near the parking lot of my flat.
I realized I had a smile on my face when I looked in the rearview mirror in the garage, why did I have a smile on my face? I sip on a glass of Hunters tea as I sit with a slight slouch. Theres an afternoon storm brewing, the thunder booms off in the distance as I hear the footsteps and chatter of the city streets below my flat, I look to the patio plants I've neatly arranged in various displays. I've changed abit since I had that fling with Scarlet, must've activated my soul that laid low all these years. I'm not sure what to make of what happened and who she is, I don't know if I even necessarily believe it. Thunder booms off in the distance, louder this time, enough to deafen the nightlife below. 

I have no doubt they will be rushing in doors.

The moment that thought graces my mind the rain comes, a moment of drizzle than a torrential downpour. Florida is the same as it always has been, I feel like this was where I was meant to be. I'm not sure who I was before I served the god of war, but I feel as if I was destined to live here. Maybe I lived here before I lost my identity?

My past reminds me, I must make a call with my colleague. I check my phone for the timer, my phones been blown up by Scarlet. She went from sending heart emojis to demanding that I text her immediately or else she'll slit my throat. If she wasn't my assigned second in command and daughter of the director I would've referred her to a psychologist. Furio addicts and people suffering from bipolar are indistinguishable, but from my cursory research theres good evidence the negative side effects are easier to treat than Bipolar. I'll have to browse the body building forums general for this, apparently they've been at the forefront of experimenting with how to cope with the side effects of the drug.

"We'll have to talk at the meeting with your father tonight, I'm interested in seeing you in a dress..." I send with a muscle arm emoji.
I'm sure that'll go over well, I chuckle for a moment and then she replies with some exclamation points. 

I guess that went over well with her? Her messages after confirms my question, but I finish with just a cursory read of it as the timer on my phone goes off to remind me to call my colleague. I sit up, with my half full condensation lined drinking glass in my hand as I walk over to my computer desk. I turn on my computer, log in and open my video conferencing app. My colleague has been sitting in voice...

Odd...
I join the call and find that she has her camera open...

She...

I always assumed Exorcist was a dude. Always talking about work, narrow range of subjects able to talk about outside of work, and a obsession with guns. I guess I didn't care to think of it. My gaze at our messages is interrupted by something swishing in the background, the room is dark and only her face is illuminated by the computer screen. She has a very sharp face with shrewd eyes, I remembered our talks about her dealing with the undead in DC during the federal governments campaigns against the Lich of Arlington, I only found her through the only time I abused company resources to look into who else was considered for my position, coming into contact with other gunlocks is quite hard and I wouldn't have been able to find others without using information gathered by state intelligence. Her file was redacted except for the phone number and email address and after we got more acquainted with each other I found out we both fought in the elf campaigns against the swamp dwarves, the third war of the sorrow lakes, one of many massive conflicts fought over ancient grudges. That was one of the first wars where soldiers from earth helped fight in, some of the very first moccasins fought in that conflict.

I feel a pain in my head as I finish that thought.

Odd.

My gaze shifts upwards to come into contact with her eyes, a staring contest ensues for awhile. The camera is oddly positioned so that I cannot see the top of her head and that swishing in the background is curious.

Neither one of us breaks eye contact. I feel this has more to do with surprise than it does with tension, from our talks she is the only one that has some contact with other gunlocks and has messaged me more out of a desire to 'reacquire our humanity', apparently she and I are the only ones making progress and even then....

This would be considered an unsuitable ability to socialize for my employers, and they weren't asking for much.

I don't mind this staring game, but I should at least try and get a word out of her.

"How was work?" This breaks our eye contact, her almond shaped eyes peer up and to the right as if she is remembering how it was. Then darts to the left and the right. 

Why does she have cat eyes? Those eyes aren't human.

Shes a new worlder, that swishing in the background has to be a tail and the positioning of the camera is to hide her lack of human ears. She isn't the least human looking one, infact if it weren't for those features I would say she's quite attractive. Black hair, green eyes and  pale skin. If I had a type that would be it, but it was only until recently did I think about such things. Her eyes widen then she responds after quite a wait.

"It wasn't bad."

The brevity of her response, rather than recalling how her work went I imagine she was recalling articles on how to socialize. I have to keep in mind that I am leagues beyond her in this capacity. I will conclude our talk with notes I've taken about my experiences over the past couple of days with a reminder that I will not be able to message anyone tomorrow as I will be attending a business meeting.

Shes still waiting on a response.

"Tell me more about what you did today." I notice her expression seems to light up if ever so slightly, This is something she can talk about with some ability.

"My current employer had issued a contract to deal with standard type extradimensional entities, an umbrella category for ghosts and other non corporeal spirits, which completed within the required time period and received compensation for completing the contract as agreed upon." She smiled after finishing her sentence.

Forty years ago this type of behavior would be classified as "Aspergers syndrome", From our previous conversations I know she wasn't just a skilled gunlock but skilled in many magical disciplines including exorcism.