Dust danced lightly in the wind, tumbling from the sea of dunes as the furious heat of the sun punished any life in sight. Mostly a sparse collection of pitiful vegetation which clung desperately to the earth wherever it could. The uniform desert was broken only by the scattering of rocky outcroppings temporarily freed from the layers of sand, and the rare stony mesas which stood alone across the endless dunes.

Atop one of those mesas was a dark figure, a black speck in a sea of yellow sands and red stones. They were wearing a full body suit, a hood covered their head, shading their eyes, while a mask concealed the rest of their face. Resting by their side was a spear with a long quarter moon blade.

The figure was sitting on a rock, resting with head in hand. Their gaze fixed on a distant point, a glimmer of white shimmering in the sun. They were approached by a man in a white robe with a covered head. He had olive skin, and a somewhat rectangular face common to men from Duroterra.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Reaper,” the man said. The black figured stirred but didn’t turn to face him. “We’ve… got something.”

“You sound confused, Virgil,” Reaper said.

“Do you remember the ping on the World Net you asked us to keep an eye on?” Virgil said. “Well, we got a huge spike of activity in the same area.”

“Ah, he finally made his move. Have you prepared the helicopter?”

“Yes, but, the thing is, we just got another hot zone on a different continent.” Virgil laughed. “Go figure, the World Net’s quiet for months, and it picks right now to go wild.”

“You think this a coincidence?” Reaper slid off the boulder to their feet, still gazing into the distance. “What are you up to you old bastard?”