The early morning hours quickly went by and made way for the busy noon. Well, as busy as it got in City 24. The weather wasn’t exactly fit for an outside stroll with all the snow laying about, but the few stray people still wandered the white streets, some seeking a place to spend their lunch break, others simply killing time with nothing better to do.
Dirk found himself somewhere in between those two groups, with nothing of importance to do and hungry for something to eat. The conversation he had with his ex this morning really put his body in a weird state of giddy excitement and melancholic brooding, which dampened his appetite. Until now, that is, as he found himself wandering the streets with a rumbling stomach.
Thankfully, he knew just the place. He knew most good spots in this city, actually. He grew up here, after all. Him, the most Imperial looking man growing up in the middle of the so-called Russian Nowhere. He chuckled to himself. It was true. His parents moved here when he was little as a part of some Imperial relocation program and died soon after, leaving him to fend for himself. It was hard, but it also meant that he did in fact know the place like the back of his hand. The best and the worst of it.
He moved on autopilot, thinking back on his childhood, how he met Sam and about his early days in the military. It’s kind of ironic how now he could see, looking back, just how shit life in the Empire was. Especially in what was effectively occupied Russian land. Soon he arrived at his destination, almost surprising himself with just how quickly he found himself stepping into Burger Emperor.
The name put a smile on his face. The whole restaurant did. It was so stupid and obviously part of the Imperial propaganda, but the burger mascot looked so much like a fat caricature of the Emperor Maxim Cornelius III that he just couldn’t bring himself to hate the place. On the contrary, he loved it. The food was hot and greasy, just like he liked it. He shook his head with a faint smile on his face.
“If you want to control the masses, control their cuisine.” - he mused under his nose and approached the counter, eyeing the displays above with the newest flavor of the month offers.
There were burgers, obviously, but since he last came here they’d also branched out into pizzas and chicken drumsticks and even burritos. The whole deal. He didn’t care much for the new stuff, but he knew the old menu by heart. Mind you, he didn’t come here very often, and whenever he did, it was more like a small celebration of some accomplishment or a milestone. And thus he also had his favorite. The moment he’d stepped into the restaurant, Dirk knew exactly what he was going to order.
- Secret menu ‘Olympus 776’, number 3 and a large soda, please. - he ordered with all due respect people working in customer service deserve, but in return got a look of utter confusion from the young blonde lady behind the register.
Dirk could swear he saw the exact moment she questioned his sanity, but after a quick “Excuse me” and a short chat with the manager, she took the order and gave Dirk his order number, which coincidentally was also a 3. He thanked her and gave her a knowing nod. It wasn’t every day that anybody even mentioned that ancient menu, let alone ordered from it, but it was thankfully still in use.
The man took his place in the corner by the window and waited, taking in the simple, peaceful atmosphere of a burger joint. The aroma of the fried meat, the corny note of the bun and the sound of his patty sizzling on the grill. It was soothing, like not much else could ever be. He’d taken his squad here a few times in the past. Damien especially liked the food. He was small, but damn if he could eat.
His food arrived after about 20 minutes, and it was so beautiful that he almost felt bad taking the first bite. The four beef patties intertwined with an absurd number of crunchy bacon strips and an unhealthy dose of honey-mustard and BBQ sauce, topped off with a hearty dose of pickled onion and fresh lettuce drowned in cheese, barely fit in his mouth. The childlike glee with which he munched on the burger was almost mesmerizing to the few people who took notice of the uncanny burger and its owner, but soon enough all curious eyes drifted off somewhere else as a giant hooded figure sat across from Dirk, propping themselves up heavily on the table, throwing down a gray gym bag right beside themselves.
Dirk raised his gaze from the meaty bounty, at first angry that somebody would interrupt his feast, but his expression quickly mellowed out as he realized just who the interloper was.
- Hello Jason. - he said with his mouth full, but not letting even a drop of the fast food goodness leave his mouth. He swallowed and took a deep breath, the kind you take after a greedy bite a little too big. - You want a bite?
- No. - he answered shortly.
He seemed a little fidgety, but the shadow that his hoodie cast on his face made it for the most part indiscernible. He looked around, obviously tense.
- No, thank you. - he corrected himself, his posture easing up a bit when he looked back at Dirk and his enormous burger. - It’s good to see you in a good mood.
- Nervous? Yeah, I am too, a little. - Dirk laughed, thinking about their coming excursion. He wasn’t actually nervous per se. Just excited, but if he could make Jason relax…
- No, not really. - he answered back with a quick shake of his head. Almost too quick. Very unlike himself. - Ah, fuck it. Yeah, I am, but for an entirely different reason.
He raised his hood just a tiny bit with a shaky hand, revealing a face like that of a leper, completely ravaged and practically falling apart. Slabs of skin hung loosely under his chin, revealing fibers of his pink muscles. He had no nose and his eyes seemed to have ruptured from the inside, being almost completely red, save for the thick pulsating golden strands that marked his whole face.
- Oh, ouch! - Dirk said reflexively, furrowing his brows a little, then taking another bite, his expression stuck somewhere between morbid curiosity and genuine concern.
- Yeah. Fleece is getting damn impatient and is currently giving me a fucking makeover of a lifetime. - he huffed with frustration, catching a piece of flesh that just fell off his cheek in his hand, which also seemed to be in a very advanced state of decay. - It’s trying to jumpstart my regeneration. Put it straight on 100% after years of dormancy. How much time is there left? - he asked with urgency in his voice.
- A little under 6 hours. Will you be okay till then?
- I don’t know. - he answered in a meek tone. - I can feel it rearranging my guts as we speak.
Dirk gave him a prolonged look, as if pondering something, then took a massive messy bite out of his burger. His attention drifted to the outside and his eyes narrowed, his expression souring.
He saw something which he didn’t want to see.
- What’s in the bag? - he asked, turning back to Jason, mouth still full.
- My leash, muzzle and some fake documentation classifying me as a service-viable B-type BAHR unit. We’ll be needing the last one especially, since I’m coming as your personal weapon. - he explained in a hushed voice.
Dirk simply nodded, digesting the bit about classification in his mind.
He vaguely remembered the Imperial designations for the regenerators and by those metrics the contents of the documentation were obviously false, since Jason’s capabilities fell well outside the traditional designations…
The B-types were the newest batch with reduced capabilities, but easily mass-produced. Basically glorified canon fodder for the infantry, not even close to the dreaded A-types lost after the Red Rebellion… but that was good. They would attract at most a few curious gazes, and notoriety was the last thing Dirk wanted on this little expedition.
He glanced outside again, something stirring in his mind. There was subtle movement in the alleys.
- Tell you what. - Dirk perked up, meeting Jason’s gaze again. - Meet me by my favorite bar in the southern district in like an hour. We’ll do something about that Fleece problem.
- Southern…
His face scrunched up a bit as he focused.
- No… you can’t seriously–
- I am. Now scoot and let me finish my food in peace, won’t you?
- I hate that Russian.
- But thankfully he doesn’t mind you, and he may just have what it takes to fix your little problem for you. I was going to go meet him anyway, might as well ask him for a favor. Now out with you! - he commanded, pointing to the door with his head.
- Ugh. Fine! - he grumbled and stormed out of the joint with his bag in one hand, the other one firmly placed on his ripping face.
“A state-of-the-art bioweapon and a grown ass man, but he still acts all fussy like a little kid…” - Dirk thought to himself with more than a bit of amusement and a faint note of sadness.
He pitied Jason. The guy wasn’t even treated like a human being, let alone a growing kid, for most of his childhood. He had to figure out most of this ‘being a human’ stuff on his own…
When he was well out of sight, Dirk finished his meal in a couple of big bites, downed his soda in record time and took a deep breath. Now it was time to deal with the other matter.
He exited the premises with hands in his pockets and gaze low to the ground. An unassuming posture, hunched and gray, fit for blending into the crowd.
Despite that, as he made his way through the sidewalk, leisurely strolling through twists and turns, something kept a keen eye on him.
No matter what destitute alleyway Dirk shimmied across, the feeling persisted. The men in black, as Dirk vaguely identified them, were right on his tail, only occasionally appearing in the corner of his eye, just to instantly hide again the moment they got spotted.
"Imperial servicemen... a dozen or so." - the retiree concluded, based upon the few glimpses he caught of them, and the simple fact that no Peacekeepers tried to intercept the suspicious bunch skulking about in broad daylight. Amateurs, the both of them, but neither group could afford to disturb the public order. Not in broad daylight, at least.
"Poorly trained at espionage. Definitely not Marcus's men." - the thought came to him as naturally as breathing. "Magnus, on the other hand, couldn’t possibly be bothered to send his crew away from his ship… Besides, those nutjobs couldn't abandon the ship even if they wanted." - as his hands instinctively searched his pockets for anything useful, Dirk continued mulling the situation over. - "That only leaves one candidate... he's always such a pain in my ass..."
He kept walking, largely unbothered, but still alert. He walked through the city, now with a destination in mind, and as the small crowds of pedestrians that walked the streets with him thinned out around Dirk, the men in pursuit got closer as their confidence grew. But that was fine with him.
Eventually he reached a small cobblestone bridge covered in decades old dead bushes, arced over a river long dried and gone. An isolated place far away from the main hubs of the city’s activities, not too far away from the slums. He stepped on and without an inkling of urgency propped himself on the dilapidated railing. It was an invitation.
Looking at the dry riverbed, it reminded him of the days water used to flow there. It wasn't even that long ago, a decade or so. He used to fish here with his squad mates sometimes, dreaming of more peaceful days. Here they were now, paid for with their blood, sweat and tears.
He didn’t need to wait long before the men converged on his position from both sides of the bridge, effectively blocking his escape. It was obvious that they weren't there to merely ask him questions.
They wore thick black overcoats and dark-tinted glasses. A telltale sign of suspicious governmental activities. It was almost comical. Dirk rolled his eyes at just how conspicuous they all looked as they approached. Their walk and demeanor, on the other hand, at least showed some promise.
Each one of them had their imminent striking range free of any obstructions, ending exactly where another began. They weren't amateurs, as Dirk had previously thought. Their training was simply painfully hyper focused in one department - that of combat. It showed that they had nothing but the most shallow understanding of the finer military arts, but their sheer discipline put them just a cut above the wanton Peacekeeper grunts.
- Since I’ve already done you the favor of getting us somewhere private, pray tell, to what do I owe the pleasure of being stalked in the middle of the day?
Some of them looked flustered for a moment, while others just barely kept their cool, but one of the servicemen stepped to the front and spoke with a practiced, professional diction, like a policeman dictating one’s rights during an arrest.
- We’ve noticed a significant change in your daily behavioral patterns, Ares, sir. This is a simple welfare check.
- Alright, enough. Cut the bull and tell me what Hyena wants… Oh, excuse me. “Heavenly General Hyena.’” - said Dirk, not omitting the air quotes as he spoke of his ex-colleague in a less than favorable tone.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
- Sir Ares, this is–
- Just Dirk. I’m retired. - he cut him off, not showing a shred of care.
That was when someone new emerged from the crowd, their appearance raising the former soldier’s eyebrow. Not only due to the way they presented themselves, but how despite it, he didn’t notice the man sooner.
The person who suddenly emerged from the monochrome crowd stuck out like a sore thumb, wearing a giant, golden helmet covering his whole face, with a blue forward-facing plume at the top.
The simplest comparison within Dirk’s mind would be a Corinthian helmet from Ancient Greece. Yet there were details that didn’t fit, instead of a visor there was a pitch-black screen, covering the whole facial area, with small tusks protruding from below the cheek-plates.
Moreover, his outfit didn't fit any standard military uniform Dirk knew of, seeming more fit for a cosplay event at best.
His bare, chiseled chest showing through an opened Hawaiian shirt and a tactical harness tightly hugging a pair of military pants were a combination that forced Dirk to chuckle.
Putting aside the avant-garde look, the unknown person walked up to him without a shred of hesitation.
Their stance was lax, and looked unprofessional, but he was the first one out of the entire procession of conspicuous individuals who made Dirk’s expression turn serious.
“Is he a professional bodybuilder or something?” - he thought, as the stranger's arm moved slovenly towards the ornate helmet. - “Haven’t seen a guy built like this in active service back in my day”.
- As the Empire’s high ranking veteran, your mental wellbeing is a stately matter. - a synthesized voice came from the man in front of him. - We will be taking you into imperial custody to evaluate your mental state and provide aid if necessary.
“A stately matter…” - the veteran scoffed internally. - “Where were you when I was drinking myself into a stupor, then?”
The giant easily dwarfed Dirk when it came purely to muscle mass, and while his body language didn’t seem outright hostile, he moved with the clear purpose backed by an order given to him straight from the top.
A good man molded into an obedient puppet, almost unfit for someone serving the Hyena. Dirk clicked his tongue. The General would break him soon enough, though, as he did with most people under his command.
- Please do not resist. - the man said firmly, more as an order than a request, and reached for Dirk’s arm, but that proved to be a huge mistake.
The retired veteran caught the man’s arm and with a simple, yet magnificently executed over-the-shoulder throw put him on the ground.
Or so he planned.
Unfortunately, years of nothing but drunken tussles with equally drunk losers made him soft. The moment Dirk grabbed the brute, the muscles in his arms bulged, veins showing through the thick skin. The former leader of the Avatar unit couldn’t even budge the colossus before him.
That was when his opponent’s other arm blinked in the soldier's peripheral vision.
“Fast!” - Dirk thought, swaying back away from the grab.
But his foe didn’t let up, stepping in and moving closer. He was a god-damn in-fighter, just like the veteran himself, so there weren’t many tricks he could pull to suddenly overwhelm the guy.
It would all boil down to a slug-fest. Normally, that was. Under the pretense of a fair and peaceful detainment and the resulting military kayfabe, neither of them could resort to lethal measures. That limitation would impact both of them in equal measure, and with their options limited, the outcome of this bout in this neutered environment would likely come down to reflexes and training.
With their hands open, their exchange of sways and deflects almost seemed like a childish slap-fight. To Dirk though, every attack he redirected felt so heavy that even with a strike of an open palm his foe could easily dislocate his jaw. Worse yet, his opponent wasn’t even trying to attack him, merely grab him.
All the other men in black felt the incentive to help their fellow agent, but they just couldn’t find the right moment to step in. This battle didn’t leave any place for “third wheelers”. So they watched, some whispering, others fiddling by their collars, likely speaking to hidden microphones.
Dirk couldn’t see that, though, nor could he listen in on their conversations, as the ball was in his court now. He was slowly getting pushed back. It was unbelievable. To think that someone like Hyena managed to train even a single person to match the training the Avatar unit was subjected to all those years ago.
“Or maybe I’m just out of practice” - the mere thought brought the sneering face of his younger brother to mind, slightly pissing him off.
But he regained his composure as quickly as it wavered. He couldn't afford to get distracted now, seeing that not only his opponent remained perfectly calm, but was more than an even match for Dirk in close quarters. Not a single overreaching movement, no wild haymakers. Nothing. Just precise, calculated grabs. The only thing showing that a person of flesh and blood hid behind the black screen, as opposed to a calculating machine, was the skin on his hands, which since the start of the battle turned bright red from exertion and numerous impacts.
Despite that, not a single ragged breath from the giant’s side reached the veteran's ears. The age gap was quite a bitch. But it was nothing that a good warm up couldn’t overcome. Even if their little squabble lasted no longer than half a minute, the “former god” could clearly tell that his opponent's movements were becoming slower. Or rather, he himself was becoming faster and more accustomed to them.
He started sweating - something that would never happen to him back in the days of yore, yet with it a smile creeped onto Dirk’s lip.
- You dickheads were right. I missed this.
The barely audible sentence transformed into nigh untraceable movement as the man’s old heart finally started beating with the vigor of youth. Dirk stepped to the side, grabbing the assailant by the wrist, and before he could even react, led him to the railing. It almost appeared as if the other guy walked up to it by himself, but martial arts always seemed incomprehensible like that to the untrained eye.
As the bare-chested soldier slammed against the rusted railing, causing it to wobble dangerously, Dirk didn’t let up, simply planting his hand at the center of his ornate helmet.
All it took was a little push.
With that, the tower of well toned muscles flipped over and fell down into the dry riverbed.
Dirk didn’t even have enough time to bask in the glory of the first genuine victory he had in many years, as metallic clicks resounded all around him.
Now, without fear of interrupting, all the men in black reached for their side-arms and switched the safeties off in unison. Their payload probably wasn’t lethal, but being shot up with this many rubber bullets could still kill him.
“Not much I can do about that” - Dirk smirked, outnumbered and outgunned. - “Maybe if one of them was a step closer…”
But just as they took aim, a synthesized voice roared out, bearing down on them like a ton of bricks. Its tone being so very familiar to the old man.
- Do not shoot him! - Dirk heard from behind, and as he looked, the man he threw off was already climbing back up the railing
“How the hell did he come up so fast? Did he grab onto something?” - questions filled Dirk’s mind, and answers were nowhere to be seen.
But more importantly, that voice…
- Speak to me directly if you really must ruin such a nice afternoon. - Dirk commanded, looking directly at the man who returned onto the bridge. - Do not send your pawns to satisfy your childish agendas.
At first there was no response as the tension in the air grew exponentially with each passing second, but after a moment which seemed to last an eternity, something started to form on the pitch-black screen of the soldier's helmet.
With the sound of a long, chilling chuckle, a well known emblem took shape in full color in the middle of the black screen. It was the emblem of the Heavenly General Hyena.
- Insolent. How insolent you are to go against the Emperor’s will, Heavenly General Ares! - there was a brief pause as the man on the other side caught his breath. Dirk could imagine the man’s face twisting into a twisted smirk. - I meant to say would-be Heavenly General. - voice mocked him with audible satisfaction.
- What do you want, Ajax? Don’t you have some matters of state to attend to? Maybe a dinner with some upper class–
- Silence, wretch! Your superior is talking to you!
- I’m a civilian, Daunt. You’re no boss of mine. Never were and never will be.
- Oh, how naive! Our duty to the Empire does not end, even with our lives, so why would something like a simple retirement free you from your inborn obligation? - he growled through the gilded helmet’s inbuilt speaker.
Those grandiose words fell flat when juxtaposed with the helmet wearer’s lack of any articulation. He stood still like a statue, only the rising and falling of his chest showing that someone was still sitting at the wheel.
In the meantime, all the other servicemen holstered their weapons, but remained in their combat-ready stance, no doubt impressed and terrified by how easily a retired, down-and-under has-been kicked the giant's ass.
“Easily” of course being an operative word, but they didn’t have to know.
- Now, be a good old man and go with the agents present. You may be old and useless, but it doesn’t mean I can just ignore your blatant disregard for the country’s safety. You know too much. - the last sentence carried age-old vitriol with each letter.
- What safety? I am a free man, “Heavenly General.” - Dirk snapped back, fixing his jacket. - The Emperor himself let me go when he deemed me unfit for duty, and I have his decree in writing. Now, you wouldn’t want a scandal on your hands, would you? About how the Empire treats their veterans? For better or worse, people know who “Ares” is, and they wouldn’t take kindly to you harassing me in broad daylight. Public opinion has not been very kind to the State as of late, so please, Daunt, save yourself the public humiliation and me the nerves.
- What if I ordered my men to shoot you instead, after all? - the nonchalance with which Ajax said these words even made his men flinch, with the exception of the “transceiver guy”. - Dead men tell no tales, and you’ve been out of the public’s eye for quite a few years. There wouldn’t even be any traces to hide, aside from that old, rickety body of yours. But that’s a simple matter. The grid has been watching your movements, and they do not align with the path the Empire currently treads.
- You could do that, sure. But that would only trigger my dead man’s switch, and then the real uphill battle would begin for you.
Dirk wasn’t one for subterfuge and bluffs, but the moment Ajax Daunt mentioned the future of the Empire, the old soldier knew that things got serious.
“One cannot reason with an overzealous patriot, especially on the matters of their country” - he frowned slightly, plucked from a battle of martial arts and flung right into a battle of wits.
This day was anything but boring.
- Stop bluffing, old man. There is no switch. - Daunt declared with utmost confidence, audibly losing patience. - We have your patterns down to a science, you senile drunk. We know more about your day, your life, than you do yourself, so why spew such obvious lies?
- And who’s to say I only set the switch up after my discharge? I have years over you, boy. I’ve been neck deep in this country’s shit way before it even crossed your mind to join the military. So make it quick and decide whether you have the balls to take this gamble, because I have places to be and people to meet who are not a complete pain in the ass, unlike you.
The Heavenly General Hyena, real name Ajax Daunt, was a very confident man. He was the one who picked up the mess left after the “Red Rebellion” and “Punished Pride Incident” and managed to put it back together in a way that allowed the Empire to resume its normal functions as the world's supreme super-power.
Which meant that his immense pride went hand in hand with fear. Overwhelming fear of the potential fall. That’s why Dirk knew he had to push, even if what he was saying amounted to absolute hogwash.
Hyena’s self-doubt and second guessing would take care of everything else.
They all stood silently.
Dirk, the nameless display-head, the dozens of soldiers and Ajax, somewhere far away in front of his cushy desk. The world around them continued as normal, birds flew about, raindrops fell, but the men all remained unmoving.
- To hell with you. - Heavenly General broke the silence at last. - All units, retreat.
For a split second the people in monochrome seemed bewildered, but none of them were brave enough to voice their own opinions. So instead they scattered, as suddenly as they converged. The only ones remaining on the bridge were Dirk and the stand-in for his long-time enemy.
- There won’t be another time, old man. - said the synthesized voice. - By the end of the day, I’ll know all that I need about that “killswitch” of yours. So if you lied–
- Don’t pop a vein. - Dirk cut him off and turned around. - Since you said that I’m on the grid, that threat of yours won’t add much substance to your pathetic threats.
- I’ll make you swallow those words soon enough, Dirk. - with that foreboding promise, the icon disappeared from the helmet-screen.
Leaving the lone soldier standing in front of his recent opponent without orders to follow.
- You’re pretty good, kid. - the old dog spoke truthfully for the first time in a few minutes.
- Pretty good. - the synthesized voice repeated after him.
There was nothing more left to be said. Dirk wanted to act a bit coy and thank his opponent for shaking some dust off of his joints, but there was some inkling of respect he felt towards the faceless stranger.
Towards the skill he displayed, it made him almost ignore the garish outfit he wore.
As the helmeted soldier turned around and started walking away, Dirk called out one last time, with a simple question.
- What’s your name, kid?
- Designation “Diesel”, Sergeant Second Class, “Fenrir” espionage and quick response unit.
Then he disappeared into the thicket, like the rest of Ajax’s men before him.