What waited for them outside was a stark contrast to what Dirk expected and judging by the looks of the other mercs, they were equally dumbfounded.

The elevator doors led them not into some high-tech facility or a paramilitary installation, but what looked like a foyer of a hospital. It looked ordinary enough, but there was not a single living soul in sight.

An oddity which immediately rang some alarm bells.

The reception desk stood empty, and so did the rows of plastic seats lining the walls by the doctors' offices. It was just the mercs, the guards and the deafening silence bearing down on them.

- Everyone, follow me. - one of the Ouroboros soldiers moved ahead. - Do keep up, straying will be considered a violation of corporate rules of conduct.

With a simple, quick and comprehensible explanation, the group started to cross the empty corridors in strides. Despite the warning, there really was no way in which any of them could “stray” from the pack. The first of Ouroboros' lackeys led the charge, while his colleague kept the tail-end secured, keeping them grouped up.

Passing room after room, corridor after corridor, nothing caught Dirk’s attention. The place was deserted, but kept eerily clean. Despite all that, he remained completely at ease. In the old days, Dirk came to similar places very often. It was the charm and the curse of the Imperial Palace. It was enormous. A monolith. But its size made all the vast spaces and long corridors inside feel empty and devoid of life.

While the current setting visibly upset a few of the other mercs, Dirk couldn’t help but feel a little nostalgic. He remembered all those long walks between debriefings and missions. It was like he was finally coming back to where he belonged after a long time abroad. A smile must have creeped onto his face, because he felt Jason gave him a side-eye through the golden helmet.

- Shush you. - Dirk whispered. - Let a man enjoy the little things.

Even if Chernobog couldn’t see it, under the high-tech apparatus concealing his whole head, Jason smiled, finally seeing his childhood hero happy again.

After a while, their procession came to a halt in front of a double wing door. There was nothing special about it. Just a large, pristine portal with shaded glass and an automated opening system.

That last detail was a guess on Dirk’s part, as there was no door handle, no key card reader or even a keypad in sight. His theory proved to be correct, as the leading soldier gestured to the other mercs to step back. Once alone, the smooth wall above the door cracked open, revealing a camera on a thin mechanical arm. It lowered itself towards the Ouroboros employee and stopped in front of his face.

Some lights turned on, illuminating the man’s face, but Dirk couldn’t exactly make out what was happening due to other mercs obscuring his vision.

- Access granted. Welcome, security unit member Epsilon - 245. - a female voice mused from around them. - Have a pleasant and productive day.

- Epsilon - 245? Damn, that’s one way to make a cog out of a man! - the merc with the tattoo on his eye scoffed, garnering no reaction from the man he referred to. - Do you get collars too?

When the gate fully opened, the two guards assumed their positions on each of its sides, ushering the mercs in. Inside was a long corridor that smelled of detergents.

- Proceed to the end of the corridor and enter the test chamber. The Ouroboros company thanks you for your cooperation. - the Epsilon grunt said, his tone robotic, as if he was reading from a script.

No longer led by the hand and with the objective clearly in sight, the mercenaries passed the threshold and proceeded through the corridor, their two escorts standing guard. Dirk glanced back at them, but the door closed as soon as he stepped through, obscuring them from his sight.

They were on their own, but the feeling of being observed was now stronger than ever.

- Well, that was boring. - Prusk approached with a yawn.

- I wouldn’t be surprised if most of our time with the convoy looked similar. - he responded as he walked. - Driving through the wasteland and all.

Jason walked a step behind on his left, and the woman matched his pace on his right. It surprised Dirk a little how chummy she was getting right out of the gate.

- If that’s the case, then the radio will at least fill the dead air in the cockpit. - she interlocked her fingers behind her head.

- You’re applying as a convoy driver? - Dirk raised an eyebrow. - Judging by your build, I expected you to be more of a frontline type of gal.

Despite being the same height as the old veteran, at a glance, the woman beside him had twice the muscle mass he did. Even with the whole body covered by one-piece overalls and a jacket on top, it only took one little glimpse at her exposed forearms for Dirk to realize that unlike Misha, she got the strength and the mass.

It must have taken a lot of time and effort to achieve those results, doubly so for a woman

In response to his comment, Prusk started laughing.

- Did I say something funny? - Chernobog didn’t hide his confusion.

- No, no, it’s just that I never thought an old-timer like you would ever be so direct about my looks. - she wiped a small tear forming in the corner of her eye. - I always thought most old people liked their women in the kitchen, not on the battlefield.

- I’m not that old. - Dirk protested, rolling his eyes. - Dying in the safety of a nursing home after a life of housework or within a ditch in the middle of nowhere is a personal choice in these times. The battlefield doesn’t care about your race or gender, and neither do good soldiers. It’s kill or be killed. We are all just numbers to historians, after all.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

- That’s pretty fucking grim, old man. Which one are you?

- Pardon?

- A soldier. Are you a good one then, or a bad one? - a spark of curiosity lit up in her eyes.

- Used to be a good soldier, a committed one. - Dirk looked at the ceiling, where luminescent lights stretched on and on. - Now I’m simply a has-been.

In response to those words, an enormous force hit his back, knocking the air out of him. He stumbled a bit, surprised by the sudden strike. Didn’t take him long to figure out who did it.

- I guess even if some aspects of you aren’t “old”, your head can go into that “retro” mode. - Prusk chuckled. - Most of you old folk like to mope about what once was, that’s why you need us young ones around. So you don’t get lost in the sauce.

Dirk regained his footing and snorted.

- We just met each other. Don’t get ahead of yourself. - the veteran played tough, to regain some dignity. Usually he wasn’t much for following proper conduct. - Next time you pull a stunt like this, I’ll kick your ass, kid.

- I’ll be looking forward to that. - she smiled coyly. - Don’t pop a gasket until then, though. But going back to your question before you went all mopey. I ain’t no convoy driver, I’m a mech pilot.

- A mech pilot? - Dirk was quite surprised by that revelation.

- You know, a mechanized armored suit? A big robot?

- I know what that means, I just never expected to have one of those as a part of our convoy.

That was quite a stratagem.

Just as mechanized infantry took over the battlefield years ago, only to be replaced by planes and later helicopters, mechs were the next technological step when it came to infantry support. As durable as a tank and with comparable firepower, while also sporting the ability to cover all types of terrain and redeploy at a moment's notice, they were currently at the pinnacle of the ground-based combat.

Unfortunately, despite being one of the most technically advanced nations in the world, even the Empire couldn’t mass produce those things. The costs of maintenance, components and training of potential pilots made mechs the most expensive branch of the military. It ensured that infantry backed by air or heavy vehicle support would still remain as the de-facto way of waging warfare at a large scale.

The young woman planted both hands on her hips and puffed up her chest, proudly.

- My sister and I are quite amazing like that. You are welcome to praise our technological prowess and ingenuity.

- That will have to wait. We’re here.

The other two mercenaries beside them were already waiting at the door.

- You sure took your sweet-ass time, love birds. - the tattoo guy spoke.

- Hey! Some of us have standards. - Prusk snapped back. - Why didn’t you guys go through?

- All participants accounted for. - the synthesized voice from before answered her question. - Welcome to the test chamber number 5. The examiner inside will guide you through the practical tests that await you. Ouroboros medical company thanks you all for your compliance, have a productive and pleasant day.

As the doors automatically opened, all the mercenaries stumbled through.

Inside, they were met with something straight out of a movie.

An enormous yellow and white 1:1 diorama of a city. Streets, streetlights, buildings big and small spread before them as far as the eye could see. Even cars lined the streets, accompanied by mannequins filling in the roles of pedestrians on the sidewalks.

- What the fuck. - for the first time, the hired gun with a cowboy hat spoke.

- Welcome.

Suddenly, a new voice made all of them, except Jason, jitter and turn around. From within one of the cars emerged a man in a pristine, white suit. He didn’t appear to be armed, but Dirk learned that it didn’t mean much on Ouroboros’ turf. At any time, something could snap your neck before you realized.

- My name is Tom Holder. I am a Junior Human Resources Acquisition manager within the east branch of Ouroboros company. You can simply call me Tom.

There was nothing that particularly stood out about him. He had an all white business tux, a black tie, slick back hair and fair skin. He was as average as they came, but juxtaposed against the city mock-up, he looked fairly out of place.

- Today, I’ll be leading you all through personalized test chambers, meant to check the validity of the resumes you provided us, and to assign you to proper teams within Convoy 4.

- Convoy 4? - the tattooed guy said aloud what they all thought. - There are more than one?

- I cannot answer that question at the moment, it is currently classified. - Tom’s face looked as if he was genuinely distraught by the red tape. - Once the tests conclude and your places are assigned, all temporary employees shall be gathered for further briefing.

To that explanation, the tattooed guy said something under breath and pressed no further. Tom looked over the faces of all the other mercenaries, just to ensure that there were no more last-minute inquiries.

- Good. Then moving along. - the junior manager snapped his fingers and a table sprung up from the ground before him. - Before you lay four long range communicators, they are already paired, just take one and put it in your ear of choice.

All mercs did as instructed, sensing that the action was finally coming. Dirk was a little disappointed that there wasn’t one for Jason, but alas, he was a weapon for the purpose of this job.

- Now. Follow the lit path, that’s where each of you shall find the personalized test areas. - as he said it, neon paths appeared under each of the mercenaries, leading off into the city. - I’ll be watching and good luck.

With the explanation concluded, Tom Holder turned around and went back to the car from which he emerged.

- See ya on the flip-side, old man! - Prusk was first to act. She bolted with a small hand wave as soon as Tom shut his mouth, disappearing within one of the buildings.

The two other mercenaries somehow interpreted her words as a challenge. They followed suit and started running along their own neon paths.

“Why did they think it was a race anyway? How childish. Or maybe it’s me who’s gotten old.” - with a sigh, Dirk began his stroll, led by a bright, white path of his own.