The jackpot call had turned out to be a little early but all things considered it was still worthy of the title. Their spent ammunition had been returned to them across the board, even their food and water supplies were replenished. The only stock still missing was in Boozehound’s medical bag, the spent jolts and empty correctant bottle remained defiant in their spentness. If Alter had to guess then he would include the AT launchers and grenades in that non-replenishing category but he would be a fool to test that theory. Food, water and bullets. Everything a good little soldier needs.The universe was not being subtle today.

His briefing of those who didn’t see yesterday’s message could be put off no longer, not with everyone asking why their ammo pouches were suspiciously full. He’d led them all away from the camp for a short distance and had spent the last few minutes explaining the whats and whys.

“I understand your logic for not telling us right away but come on man, we have the right to these things.” Boats spoke in a firm but even tone.

“I know. Like I said, I just … I didn’t want to give anyone false hope I … shit I don’t know. I’m sorry, I thought it was for the best at the time.” Alter threw his arms out in surrender, dropping the wise leader act.

The murmurs and quiet assurances told Alter that he had been forgiven, for now at least.

“Hey. What do you suppose time is doing? Y’know back home.” Pavejack asked with uncertainty.

The group shifted uncomfortably at the thought before Alter spoke.

“Well, I suppose the best case scenario is that everythings on pause. Frozen until one day we find our way back and the world starts moving again. Worst case scenario I’d say is that time is acting normally. We’ve disappeared into thin air, it's a brand new day and the missing person calls are going out. Third option is we’re all in comas, that’ll give the doctors something to scratch their heads over. Maybe we'll become an obscure reference case for a medical drama one day. Final option, hmmm. Would you say the worst case would be us disappearing and everyone realising we were gone, or everyone forgetting we ever existed in the first place?”

“Oh god don’t say that!” Pavejack moaned as he buried his head in his hands.

“Maybe the first one still? I mean, at least our loved ones wouldn’t be hurt if we can’t make it back.” Whim mused.

“Enough. Stop scaring people with this useless speculation.” Walross spat as he wrapped a protective arm around the distraught American’s shoulders.

Alter felt a prickle of reproach at the venom in his voice but quickly smothered the urge to snap back. It had been ill-considered of him to answer with dark humour to Pavejack’s obvious anxiety.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know. It’s another of the many reasons why we need to find a way back as soon as possible.” He offered.

“And we’re all in agreement that completing this objective is the best way of doing that?” Whim asked, his eyes moving from person to person.

A chorus of agreements and nodding heads met the question. Alter let out a quiet sigh of relief, despite a few wobbles his friends still had their heads screwed on. The conversation meandered along the lines of how many objectives there may be, and how difficult they may become.

“Well the message said our mission is just to secure the succession, right? It doesn’t make any mention of who in the family the system favours here. To play devil’s advocate, we could end this dispute right here, right now.” Boats tapped the side of his rifle poignantly.

“True.” Alter responded uneasily, the thought of undertaking such an action caused his stomach to twist.

“You’re not seriously suggesting that?” Whim sounded disgusted.

“Absolute emergency plan only.” Boats replied defensively.

“Alright enough. Let's not get into a shouting match about assassinating someone who's potentially within earshot. I appreciate the pragmatism Boats but I’m not going to compromise morals here. We know whose side we’re on. Now, I spoke to Oliver earlier and he reckons we’ll be out of the badlands by mid afternoon today, apparently there’s a border town nearby so hopefully we can sleep in proper beds tonight. The territory we’ll be in is owned by Lady Lucille’s family so there shouldn’t be any issues finding a place to stay. From there we should be able to hire carriages to take us to whatever comes next. Any questions?”

“Just point me in the direction of civilization, I never want to see rough gravel ever again.” Whim laughed.

“What are we supposed to call Oliver now we know he’s nobility, and that he’s our boss for now?” Walross asked.

“Duke or Sir Masserlind when we’re in public but I doubt he’ll stand on ceremony out here.” Alter replied.

“Officially we’re mercenaries now, how are we supposed to act once we reach this town?”

“I’m sure he’ll tell us once we’re closer. I guess just be professional and somewhat brash?”

Alter spent a couple of minutes answering more mundane questions before the group headed back to pack up camp. Lady Lucille and Chloe were given the horse to ride and the squad organised itself into a patrol column. Once again they began trudging along the dusty, disused highway as it wove between the rocky hills. As they travelled, Alter began noticing signs of change in the local flora. The hardy grasses and withered shrubs were becoming more plentiful and slightly more vibrant. Green was less of a suggestion and was quickly becoming dresscode. Leaves that you could confidently call leaves began to appear. He even saw a rabbit. They were once again walking in the shadow of the latest hill when a sudden call brought him out of his biological ponderings.

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“Pulse!” Vangroover reported from the head of the column, indicating that he’d just received the enemy proximity warning and causing everyone to stop in their tracks.

“Pulse.” Echoed Pavejack a second later, he was a couple of metres behind him, the hostile was drawing closer.

“Spread out! We need to triangulate this!” Alter barked as Boozehound, the third man in the line, reported that he too had crossed the invisible boundary.

“What’s happening?” Lucille asked as the remaining squad members hurried off the road at various angles.

“Likely trouble ahead ma’am, we’ll deal with it. Pulse.” Alter replied as the corners of his vision flashed bright red.

He turned to look at the people behind him who had arranged themselves into a loose semicircle. One by one and right to left they held up their arms to indicate their own pulses. The timing gaps between members were too small for the unknowns to be approaching at a steep angle.

“Alright. Hostiles approaching from our eleven o’clock, one hundred eighty metres out, walking pace. It looks like the road is curving round towards them, they’re likely following it.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Oliver asked.

“Nothing as of yet sir, I recommend you stay with the horse for now. On that note, Three and Eight pull security here while the rest of us move up. You know the drill people, highground is king. Start climbing.”

Alter thought he was becoming quite adept at scrambling up rough hillsides. That notion was quickly dispelled however as more then once he lost his footing on the loose shale, forcing him to drive a knee into the ground to prevent himself from tipping over backwards. Coming to a halt just before they crested the top the men readied weapons. On a quick hand signal from Alter they took the last step and brought barrels to bear on the opposite side.

Nothing. No bloodthirsty marauders or rogue militia. No fantasy monster on the prowl, not even a rabbit tortoise charging across the plain. Just more agonising acres of scrubland and the road cutting its way toward the distant promise of greener pastures. Alter felt his jaw tighten as he hurriedly scanned the landscape, the system was many things but not faulty. Someone or something was nearby. Had his estimate been off? Glancing back down the slope he could see no signs of alarm from the rest of the party. Worried that perhaps the unknown had had the same idea, Alter switched his attention to the hilltop they had claimed. A separate ridgeline ran away at an angle from them to their direct south which could hide their movements. He ordered his machine gun team to watch that avenue of approach before turning back to the main vista.

“Anything?” He asked Boats.

“Nowt, scope is clear. I’ve swept all the vegetation thick enough for someone to hide behind, no dice.” Boats murmured back.

“The hell is going on here?”

“Maybe we scared them away?” Asked Riptide.

“We wouldn’t have got the pulse if they were unwilling to attack us. We’re in fantasyland remember, start thinking outside the box.”

Boats began rummaging through his backpack and pulled out a fairly bulky scope. Out of the corner of his eye Alter watched as he began fiddling with the device until the lens of the scope lit up with contrasting monotone blotches. A battery powered thermal optic, the marksman was full of surprises. With steady motions Boats held it up like a telescope and began surveying the area before suddenly pausing. His eyes widened as they flicked away from the lens to the point he was watching and back again.

“You’ve got to be taking the piss. I’m looking at three large humanoids on thermals moving slowly along the road but …” He gestured towards the seemingly unoccupied pathway.

As one, Alter and Riptide leaned their heads in to try and get a view of what Boats was looking at. Sure enough, a trio of eerie, slight forms were silhouetted white on black as they stalked forwards. Alter put them at two metres tall, their long wiry torsos hunched forward with spindly questing arms outstretched. Their faces were featureless but that was the nature of the scope’s image, more interesting was the hair. The top of each one’s head was covered in thick, softly waving cilia that moved like a sea anemone caught in slow motion. Their legs were equally long and thin, the knees were reverse jointed giving them an avian appearance. Not to mention the talons.

“Fucking nobody told me Medusa was a bloody flamingo.” Alter muttered through gritted teeth.

“They’re big Wolverine fans too.” Boats pointed to the screen.

The lead creature had come to a halt, its body shifting from side to side as it scanned its immediate surroundings. Three retractable claws that had been hidden away extended from each hand with razor sharp purpose.

“Those things have got to be twenty centimetres long at least.” Riptide breathed as it concealed its claws and resumed the ponderous march.

“It's like they’re moving underwater. Fragile they may look but there’s a fair chunk of compact muscle on show, I reckon they’ve got one hell of a sprint speed. What’re you thinking, boss?” boats asked.

“Like hell I’m going to order an engagement against targets we physically cannot see. If they’re impervious to visible light then god knows what else they could be immune to. They don’t seem to have noticed our presence despite the fact that we haven’t exactly been subtle up here, I say let them pass.” Alter replied after a moment's consideration.

“They’re doing a pretty good job of following the road so they can’t be blind. Even if we have plenty of time to get the horse out of their path we don’t have the luxury to cover its tracks, let alone remove the smell. If those things have but one good sense then we’re rumbled either way.” Riptide cautioned.

Alter let out a slow exhale, his lieutenant was right.

“Then we need to take these things out before they can pull any shenanigans. Ideas?”

“Blanket fire? If we hose them down from a distance with a full squad then they shouldn’t have time to react.” Boats suggested.

“Hmmm, risky. Most of us will be firing blind, even if we use a landmark we could easily miss one of them.”

“They’re pretty close together, a well placed frag could take them all out at once.” Riptide offered.

“Better. Whim, you have a grenade launcher squirrelled away, right?”

The rifleman had been watching the scope from over their shoulders perked up and quickly produced a compact launcher, unfolded the stock and flicked the sight up. Digging into a chest pouch he produced a drinks can sized white cylinder, twisted its middle section until it clicked and then fed it into the launcher.

“Fragmentation round primed and ready. Where do you want it?” He asked with boyish glee.

A large serving of distance calculations and a small argument later the men decided on a splash zone. As the creatures which they had loosely decided to name ‘Medusids’ approached Riptide gave a short countdown. The human timer hit zero and a dull thunk followed by an ominous whistle was emitted as the round was sent spinning through the air. Alter’s eyes were glued to the scope as it impacted with a sharp barking explosion, causing a thick cloud of dust to erupt upward. The creatures reacted in pain to the shards of metal slamming into their bodies. As one they curled up into foetal positions and simply vanished from view.

“That was easy.” Boats remarked.

Alter frowned as he continued to study the infrared picture. It couldn’t have been that easy.