DM-1 Buried

...

You're talking like it was hell on earth out there, but you look perfectly fine to me.

Or are you talking it up to get a pity bonus?

Well, it's not like you had to go out of your way to leave camp to pick us up. Who asked you to be such a worrywart?

I don't give a shit about anyone. Quit projecting.

If W hadn't stayed behind to create an opening for us, none of us would've made it out.

...

...When did it happen?

Two hours ago, when our communications were cut off. The squad got ambushed.

W blew apart the ruins and gave us a chance to escape. He fought until the bitter end.

Poor guy.

Yeah. If only he made it back to camp alive. His kill count was well past mine. He would've come out as top merc, easy.

Forget it, no point talking about that stuff now. At least he's earned his rest.

With the enemy routed, we should probably bring him back?

Impossible. We can't risk exposing ourselves like that. Don't want to get caught out.

Why would you even want to? Were you two that close? Nobody told me.

He had a bunch of loot on him. That's all I care about.

It wasn't that much. Some of the other guys brought in bigger hauls.

When the war ends, we can go back to the good old days.

...If the war ends.

Hmph...

We can sit around and commiserate later. We'd better get out of here before sunset if we don't want to be the center of attention.

Head back to camp and muster the troops.

Hmm—?

Is that an order, 'Second' Lieutenant Hoederer?

...We've lost contact with the other squads. As of right now, I'm your commanding officer.

We're the same rank.

*Sigh*....

...Ines, let's hurry back to the rendezvous point. Then we can contact the client again to renegotiate our deal.

That's a suggestion, not an order. All right?

Hmph...

How much you think we can milk W's death for?

A lot.

He was a helluva merc. Everybody knew.

At least... his death won't be in vain.

In the end, did he leave anything—

—Shh!

Someone's coming. Three o'clock. Not one of ours.

...

Just one. Get out.

...

A Sarkaz...? One of the natives?

No, wait... You have W's gun and knife in your hands...

Who the hell are you?

...

Not talking? Then, die.

Wait, hold up.

She followed us here.

...

...You let her follow you?

We haven't exactly been dragging our feet, but she's kept up with us purely through her own skills, even after grabbing W's gear.

She's an 'experienced' Sarkaz, and I may need a local guide when it's time to bounce.

—Are you insane? Isn't that all the more reason to kill her right here?

If you want us all dead, you might as well just do it yourself.

I wouldn't dare.

What if she's an assassin? What if she leads us straight into a trap?

Did you forget how many people in Kazdel want your head?

Oh? How many?

...There's one right in front of you.

You've got a huge bounty on your head. But for the time being, I'd rather it stay on your shoulders. Don't get too full of yourself.

I appreciate your diligence and frugality, but I'm not joking around either.

She took the risk to pick up W's knife and gun, and had the stones to walk right up to us.

What are your Arts telling you? Is she hostile?

...No sane person would just take in a totally unknown Sarkaz.

Yeah, that's the difference between you and me.

On my way back, I gave her a whole bunch of openings, and she... threw little stones at me.

An interesting display of good will, wouldn't you agree?

...Huh?

According to the old ways, we might want to give her a chance.

This war has thinned out our ranks. We could recruit some more Sarkaz, just as mysterious as her, but I'd rather hand-pick someone myself.

...

But, she's an outsider. Our ways don't apply to—

—You know what, forget it.

I'm leaving in ten minutes. I don't care how many come with me.

But if you're gonna give me any more corpses to deal with, I don't care whose, you better make it quick.

Heh. Quite the impatient one, aren't you.

...All right, you. Listen carefully.

...

You're holding our fallen comrade's relics there.

Put them down, and you can walk out of here alive. You'll have to find somewhere else to die, but at least you'll buy yourself some extra time.

...

...

This is your last chance.

...

Last... chance?

...I don't think I ever had a choice. The second I turn around, you draw your blade and cut me down.

This whole time... your other hand has been on that hilt.

...Very good.

You may have seen us before, or maybe you worked for someone else. None of that concerns me.

But, you understand what it means to take up the weapons of the fallen, yes?

Of course.

In that case, prepare to evacuate first. We'll talk details later.

Now, go rejoin the squad—

—'W.'

...

...What are you looking for?

That corpse... that's the assassin?

...Yeah.

I knew he'd have it on him.

A note...?

Actually, wait, did you know this guy?

Of course.

We've worked together before. Went through hell together. Just a few months ago, we were at the Scar Market, toasting to a job well done.

He even said he wanted his daughter to marry me.

That's dumb. You're mercenaries. Sooner or later...

————

Hold on, you didn't really—

Of course not. I turned him down.

...For other reasons, of course.

So, what does it say?

Useful stuff. Some intel from the Market. Gossip. Things worth looking into.

......

...And what about this?

They're all names... No, all pseudonyms or code names. And there's... candy drawn on the back of this? What's all this supposed to mean?

The more pieces of candy, the higher the payout. It's a system only a piece of shit like him could come up with. Whoever gets the most candies is the most dangerous mercenary.

Creeps like that really leave a bad taste in your mouth.

...But then again, this adds up to a fat stack. Who's footing the bill?

Every time we complete a contract, someone will usually put up an additional sum to get rid of us. Like whoever hired us, for example.

The more powerful the mercenary, the bigger the bounty. The bigger the bounty, the greater the risk. The greater the risk, the more they need to kill off the merc. And the mercs who live through all this... they become the strongest.

This war has driven us to the brink of death, but it's also left room for us to survive.

I guess that all works.

It's the rules of the game.

... 'Hoederer, Mercenary, 10 candies. Tough squad, 15 candies. We're acquainted, 20 candies.'

Can't fault his accounting.

...

'W, the old one, taken care of. The new one is a problem. 10 candies, maybe more, situational.'

Sounds like you earned your candies too.

Might have something to do with those arms dealers I buried alive in the woods last month.

Hah... So, am I supposed to be happy about this?

Arms dealers, huh... Why am I learning about this just now?

I was just in the neighborhood.

When you guys raid the Laterano caravans, do you bother reporting each and every one?

No.

Right? It's the same idea.

Since this isn't technically a part of the job, it's not like us mercenaries have to share every little detail.

Hmm... But lemme get this straight. I'm stronger than that old 'W,' huh?

Strong or weak doesn't tell me shit about a soldier's actual capabilities. For me, it's all about whether or not they can follow orders.

Fine, fine. I'll be more thorough next time. Does that work for you?

By the way, I've been wondering, what kind of person was that old 'W?'

That guy... was a strange one.

He was with us for a long time. Hardest worker you ever met, a real good egg.

He fought hard to become our team leader, racked up kills and commendations, just so we'd celebrate his birthday.

...A Sarkaz? With a birthday?

Of course it wasn't his real birthday... He wasn't that far gone.

He once killed a Laterano and took his gun. I guess they had some history between them, so he decided that day was his birthday.

Mhm... A merc who killed Lateranos for sport, huh? Sounds like we could've been friends.

There's a lot to unpack in there.

But, 'for sport?'

Hey, gotta live in the moment.

Good answer.

'W' was one of our biggest characters.

He always had that devil-may-care laugh, but whenever he spoke, you could tell that there was something more lurking underneath.

But he was quicker to trust than pretty much anyone else.

Why's that?

Because he had an 'obsession.' Obsessed people, good or bad, are always falling into traps.

...All right. Just sounds like a dumbass to me.

I figured you'd get it..

Because you're the same type of person. Good at putting on airs, good at living in the moment.

I am?

......

...Hah.

What makes you so confident you can guess what I'm thinking? Or, do you have some weird Arts like Ines?

You...

You could've decided to kill us both that day. I thought you understood that?

*Sigh*... You're not going to let that go, are you? Reminds me of Ines...

Let's head back and see how our Messenger's doing.

It's about to rain.

Ines, you should head back to the tent. No use staring blankly at a campfire.

Hmph. Can't imagine we got good news from Kazdel.

Nail on the head.

I could feel the Messenger's anxiety after he came back. He tried not to show it, but he was scared out of his mind.

...Not to mention your expression. Your poker face couldn't fool a toddler.

So, what's the bad news?

So, I'm still alive, but... our agent died in Kazdel's industrial area.

His corpse got thrown into a furnace. His head got melted off, but those gaudy red pants are somehow still fine.

Who did it?

Nobody knows when it happened. First person to find the body was one of the boiler workers.

But, whoever did it was quick. You have a fight on metal and it's gonna show for a while—

They used a knife. And they were damned good with it.

Whatever. It's not like we'll ever catch them.

He wanted to hang out in Kazdel and didn't like to take orders. And this is what happens. Kinda funny, huh?

But now who's gonna pay us? I'm not laughing.

And the next part is even less funny.

When our Messenger was leaving Kazdel after confirming the report, he ran into some friends...

Some... spies.

I guess it's more 'was intercepted by' than 'ran into.'

...So, we've been caught again?

Wouldn't be the first time. We could take the initiative here...

By the look of things, we don't have a choice. The Messenger came back with an order.

...An order? For us? From who?

Since when do we take orders from anyone?

I've gone through the options. Just let me finish.

They want us off the battlefield and up to a remote mountain pass. Looks like it might take us through a canyon.

...To protect a transport team.

Escorting transports is a pretty run-of-the-mill job. There has to be more to it, right?

...I don't know.

...Excuse me?

Really sorry. The situation's spiraled out of control—

But this could be a rare opportunity for us.

Now that we're responsible for the entire team, the situation has changed. Everyone else is looking for an opening, and we can't just sit around waiting to die.

You and W are in charge of this job.

...I have some issues here.

First of all, I won't go with W.

She's made some waves, but I don't think she's ready yet.

She's totally proven herself.

I see things you can't. I trust my Arts.

Hoederer's team shows up with a new demolitions expert, and suddenly the battlefield is one big fiery explosion.

The other mercs are all playing it cool. The 'battlefield' changes every day, and you never know when it might swallow up your base camp.

...I know.

She doesn't hesitate; not when she's lying, not when she's killing. She is too 'qualified' a mercenary. I can't tell how deep she is.

I'm not looking for a knife in my back, and I don't think she's cut out for this 'escort' job. No matter how great you think she is, now's not the time to send out your greenhorn.

Or did you have some ulterior motives?

I'm working with the tools I've got.

Look at where we are. We can't leave people on the sidelines anymore.

Mercs don't have a dog in the fight, really. But that also means we don't belong anywhere. When the dust settles, we'll fade away, along with the war.

The difference is, war will return one day. But we have only one chance to live.

I'm not going to be fatalistic about this... and neither should any of you. That's the deal.

We have to play the hand we've been given. Stand out from the crowd, and stake out our own position.

...

...That group's here from Rim Billiton. I'm willing to bet they get raided not long after crossing into Kazdel territory.

A lot of our people won't take the job. We'll have to change the teams up a bit, but it doesn't matter in the end.

It's a dangerous contract, but worth the risk. We, or at least you—

Hold up.

Not that I question your decision... It's just that...

...Ah, forget it. Anyway, you don't need to be so uptight. I'll follow your orders, as always.

But first, you need to calm down, then take a look at your own feet.

...Hm?

Oh... Are you talking about my shadow?

I can't read your eyes. What am I looking for?

Your shadow. It's trembling.

...It's windy. And the campfire is flickering.

You know what I'm talking about. All you Sarkaz are like this.

Don't always try to plan too far ahead. There are too many things you can't control. We're just mercenaries, after all.

...I'll keep that in mind.

So, if you want me to bring W with me, what about you?

What are you planning?

That's on a need to know basis. You're safer this way.

If you can't trust the other teams, you should at least trust your own.

I'm not hiding anything from you, it's just...

Out with it then.

Spill it!

Who was it our Messenger met?

...

...

...'Babel.'

A sleeper cell Babel left in Kazdel.