The streets of Narisa were freezing, colder than that even. Though calling them streets was a bit of a stretch at that, it was just some narrow passageways. Ripe for pickpocketing, if it wasn't for the thick fucking coats everyone wore. Archius kept walking.

When no one was looking, and when he was turning corners, he slammed a small device to the walls, or fences, or rotting posts dotting the streetscape. Ding. Ding... Ding. Not good at all, the same person had just made the same five different turns as him.

Archius hid in a small crevice after turning the corner. He pulled out his pistol and patiently waited. His head bopped left and right as he yawned beneath the thick scarf he wore. But no... person? Hmm. Must just be a coincidence, right?

No! Archius scratched his head. He turned back out to the narrow passageway. No one was there? Oh... Must be his FUCKING imagination, then? Wait... Archius is in a tight passageway, he's been followed - and they're no where to be seen.

That must mean... Up! Archius ducked back, just as a figure fell to the ground in front of him. A thick coat masked who they were, but Archius didn't care. He raised his pistol and opened fire. Bolts hammered down the passageway, slamming into the attacker.

Direct hits! Their coat shifted to the side, revealing his bolts had made their mark. Thick siege armour?! The attacker had a beard, a thick temper, and raised a steel pipe. Archius backpedalled, firing bolts off - trying to hit their head.

Each flurry of bullets was just blocked as the bearded man shouldered the damage, throwing his arms and shoulder forward, up into his face. Stupid fucker! "Just die already..." Archius murmured to himself.

Screaming bolts harrowed through the thick smog and blizzard. Blinds opened and eyes peered down at him. Shit... Archius noticed the bullet count dropping, then: empty. At that, the man charged at him. "Foreigner!" he shouted. "You ain't got that cold blood! Your face ain't liked around these parts!"

Foreigner?! That wasn't the insult Archius was expected, watching them hurdle forward. Archius kept walking backwards, until there was just enough room for him to truly move side to side. He slunk to the side of the man's attack. Loading in a new magazine, he popped a fresh bolt into their head.

"FOREIGNER!" a voice cried out from above. Archius rolled his eyes, he looked back at the horde of watchers above, all huddled at their windows.

He gestured to the dead man on the floor and smiled. "He wasn't," he said. Turning away, he heard a litany of footsteps. Doors burst open along the passageway, with half a dozen people rushing out.

"Run his foreign pockets dry!" shouted one.

Another called out, "You outsiders locked us all in here! We'll send you back in a casket of piss!"

"FOREIGNER! FOREIGNER! FOREIGNER!" Chanting started. Did they really hate foreigners that badly they'd run into bullets?

Archius checked his pistol and magazines... Running low, best not waste this many bullets on fodder. Sliding his pistol into his holster, Archius juggled out with his dagger, pointing it forward. Just then, another dozen more doors creaked open, with more people stepping out.

They all looked pissed... "They killed Jeremy!" one of them shouted. Everyone raised what seemed to be random household tools - make shift weapons.

Archius chuckled. "Look, guys, I'm flattered! I'm flattered to hear you guys are all so concerned of my wellbeing on this planet..." It wasn't a lie, just the complete opposite spectrum of wellbeing that they were willing to care about. "But uh... I'm a munitions expert! I came here to speak with one of your gunrunners! I am outsider! But I am good outsider!"

From a certain perspective, he wasn't wrong.

"FOREIGNER!" The chanted didn't let up.

"How can you prove it!" one shouted, clearly not all these people have had their brains frozen in the muck. Archius rolled his eyes.

Archius really couldn't prove it. If he did, then he risks word getting back to the top brass. Archius peered behind him. The blizzard had subsidied for a bit, and downhill, far off, the silhouette of a warship crept up from the ground. Hmm, looks bigger from the surface, he concluded.

He twirled back to the mob. "I have in my left breast pocket a contract! A CONTRACT!" he made sure to enthasise that word. That alone seemed to cool some fiery heads. "Please! Good man! Take it and read it!"

The man that spoke stepped forth. He nodded to the knife in Archius' hand. Archius slowly shook his head, faking fear. "Will I have it on your word that you and your lovely neighbours won't kill me!? I'm a foreigner, so..."

"For now!" the man replied. It was good enough, not like he was really going to give that man anything. Archius calmly placed his knife back in its sheathe. He made a massive deal about it, placing it on his left side, all for the people to see. The man stepped forward, reaching for Archius' breast pocket.

It was stuck. Archius had his hands calmly by his side. "Well... get on with it," he said, annoyed. The man grumbled and placed what Archius could only describe as a poor attempt of a weapon down by the wall. Great...

Archius whistled calmly as the man used both hands to try and pry the pocket open. He peered back, everyone was getting somewhat bored by this. When no one was expecting, Archius sprung his trap. He drew his second knife, kicking the man in his crown jewels.

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The bellow of pain resonated with all men in the area. Archius latched onto the man, turning him and placing his knife to his neck. "They got Juaniar! Shit! FUCK!" one shouted.

Taking a hostage was so much easier here, after all they don't really expect it, do they? Archius clicked his tongue, nodding to their weapons. Now that one of their own was held with a knife to his throat, they were a lot more diplomatic! How strange! Seems like violence always leads to diplomacy, or whatever the CRIS trainers said.

"Alright, this is how it's going to happen. I'll give you back... umm... Juaniar, right?" Juaniar nodded. Archius continued, "Yeah! I'll give you him back, and you guys don't chase me, m'kay?!"

Someone stepped forward. "The death of one of us changes nothing! You treat us like dirt! All of you outsiders do! Looking down at us in our frozen 'ell! Leon will show you!"

"Wait... what?" Juaniar murmured. He raised his voice. "Hey! The fuck guys?! You're not gonna kill me, are you?!" He turned back to Archius.

Before Archius could speak, one of the crowd bellowed: "Death! Death! Death! We'll all die here! Best we stick it up to them foreigners as we die! Stupid fucking hot blooded freaks!"

At least he could see where Quinn got all his swearing from.

"HEY?! GUYS?! LET'S JUST HEAR HIM OUT, ALRIGHT?!"

"Yeah! Hear me out!" Archius seconded Juaniar's opinion. He really didn't want to get blood on his coat... it'd take so long just to find a free laundry machine on on the ship. Logic, however, failed. He could see where Quinn's hot-headedness comes from now, as they all surged forward.

Juaniar was shouting something, drowned out in the screams and cries against Archius. "I wasn't even fucking born!" Archius raised his voice, before slitting Juaniar's throat. He kicked his body, using it to stop the mass of clothes and flesh storming forward for a second.

Taking his hand into his pocket, Archius dragged out a grenade, ignited it and lobbed to forward. The mere sight of death sent them reeling back as a stampede began. An ignition spark sent a burst of smoke all out, covering Archius as he fled from the scene.

Coughs and bodies fell forward within the smoke, as the first boots on the ground reached the other side - rearing to have a go against Archius. Archius kept running. There was no fucking way he was willing to take on that many people! He's not Kaz! He ain't that suicidal. Archius kept laying traps all around.

He threw dozens of gadgets all around... Unlike that time in those factories, he had his gear on him. Thank fuck for that, Archius thought, finishing the final line of a tripwire hook. Turning back, the first man snapped the first twig. Instantly, a dozen more wires squeezed him together.

That wasn't it, either! As a few of the pursuers tried to break free their lead comrade, the beams constricting exploded out.

It wasn't a pretty sight, but it was necessary, he thought. That little distraction bought Archius just enough breathing room to make his escape. He climbed up a wall pipe, ripping it off down into the face of a pursuer... Fuck... Archius fell onto the roof, trying to take a moment to breath.

'This is Archius... These Narisans are tough, Sato!' he shouted.

'Oh, are they?' Sato responed with snark. 'Maybe you should have kept this line open, then, hmm?'

'Sure,' Archius replied. 'They're belligerent, less than half-witted and are obsessed... You'd like them.' He slowly got up, hearing the sound of clambering down below. A gloved hand crept up to the edge of the steel roofs. No fucking shot. Archius scrambled up, taking his pistol out and shooting the hand.

A distancing cry echoed through the snow, before falling, as whoever that was fell. Turning away, Archius started back into a run. This was so exhausting... Not really, just not wanting to get sweaty in all this thick get-up.

A few bolts were thrown over the roof as his pursuers clambered on. Tenacious bunch! Even the Sub-Level scum don't chase him up and all around for THIS long! Archius slid across the icy metal, grabbing the side of the roof and throwing himself down into one of the suspended paths.

A mother, holding her child, shrieked at his descent, holding her kid close. Archius started to run, slowing down to gently breeze past the mother. "You won't like what's coming!" he shouted, before picking up the speed once more.

Bolts flew once again and Archius threw himself through a window. His thick coat and light armour plates weathered the glass and thermal blinds, crashing into some random guy's house. "HEY!" he shouted, reaching for an Imperial-era shotgun on the wall.

Archius ducked beneath a shotgun blast, raising his pistol and blasting away at the guy. Poor fool... Archius kept running, crashing through the house and exiting out from the back. Alarms were now setting off, with clangs and ringing filling the air - rising the armed populace.

Oh no... He looked in front, across the suspended path he stood on: they cut him off. Turning back, he saw a few slowly dig out from the windows and doors... Archius sighed, closing his eyes and grumbling to himself. He turned out to the snowy blizzard, peering down.

A long fall, he thought. Ugh... This was such a good day, and here he is slinking off like Kazuki and doing stupid shit... Archius continued groaning as they etched closer. "No time like the present," Archius murmured. He took out a small handle from his coat and took a step forward.

WOAH! Archius felt gravity reel him down. It was so disorientating that he almost forgot to prod the handle, a steel climbing pick extending out. Archius stabbed it into the wall. A tug and a yank tore leagues of pain into his arm.

FUCK... That hurts... Archius groaned. Maybe Sato was right; maybe field work is just not for them... Yet admitting that would make Sato right, which he really can't allow. So: Sato's wrong!

These thrills... Archius thought deeper, finding this rather fun! Bullets and plasma spewed down from a spordic few with guns. Archius kept climbing down, ducking to the side and sliding down the icy surface - hitting the floor running. Runing into the abyss and the smog, Archius thought he was in the clear.

Well, he knew he was in the clear! They're belligerent, but not stupid, they won't throw themselves down just to chase after him. Even with the alarms blaring, Archius found the lack of footsteps and screaming to be calming! However, Archius' ears twitched.

Footsteps? Ugh... He ducked into another alleyway, hiding in a frost-bitten crevice. "He must be around here somewhere!" a voice called out. "What does he even look like?!"

"Máwti!" another shouted. The footsteps were all screaming by him.

"Máwti? The fuck we hunting a Máwti guy for?! Republic's fucked them over too!" the first man shouted back. Archius sighed. With no facade, he stared endlessly forward, into the blank wall that faced him.

Yeah. They were right, but Archius has a job to do, and nothing gets in the way of that. All Archius has left is the mission, whatever that may be, and everything must be geared towards that mission. Archius' soulless gaze envisioned his family on that wall, before blood splatters covered their faces, one by one...

Heads crushed, limbs gone, suffocated and dead. Archius took in a deep breath, feeling cool vapours leave his lips. The footsteps were gone. Time to go.