After I drive to the Pathbreakers HQ, I approach Quinton “Quins” Sheffield. He's at the firing range using a complex looking bow. While looking at me, he draws then fires an arrow into the heart of a paper target about 100 feet away. “Wot's up guv?” he asks in his cockney accent.
“Ah, so I know you just joined and I was planning on taking you to a smaller dungeon to get you some experience and levels, but shit is hitting the fan right now.”
“Right, right,” he says quickly. “Cut to the chase, eh?”
“Sorry,” I find myself apologizing to the short, thin man with graying hair. “Next mission is going to be super dangerous, so it's optional.”
Quins is a naturalized ex-brit who was formerly SAS. Now at 41 he's the oldest member of the team. Around the HQ he wears punk band t-shirts. Today it's The Clash. “Don't worry, mate, I'm in. ‘Ow do you yanks say it? Not my first rodeo.”
“Cool. Ah, seriously though, update your will.”
“Can do, can do,” he says while firing another arrow at a different target. His bow has four pulleys and several wires going up and down it's length. I'm no physicist, but I'm certain it multiplies his draw strength many times. “Oh one fing guv, if you don't mind.”
“Depends on the ask.”
“Right, so, if I get offed, I want you to tell my lady, right?”
“Right.”
“But in person, right? And see if that bloody tosser Randy is there, and if he is, that means he's been havin’ a go at my Gilda, and you bop him a good one, yeah?”
I understand some of those words and nod my head.
Next is Capricorn Williams. She is currently doing wall running on the side of the building. I promised to build her some parkour stuff later. “Cappy!” I call, using her preferred nickname.
She's a former gymnast, so she's short, but also quite muscular. At 23 she's the youngest of my team. She keeps her black curly hair in tight braids. Right now she's just in a black tank top and gym shorts.
She does a backflip off some spare tires and comes over to me. “What's the news, chief?”
“Big mission coming up, super dangerous, 15 floor dungeon. You don't have to go if you don't want to.”
She does shoulder stretches as she responds. “The fact that you're even offering an out means it's really, really bad, doesn't it?”
“Ahhhh, there might be nuclear weapons involved.”
“Oh, hell no,” she says, doing lunges.
“Well, hell maybe, at least.” I feel bad because this girl is training her heart out and through level ups I'm probably twice as agile as her. “But you're right. It's going to be really bad. And Madeline already tried to poach you for Phoenix squad, so it's alright if you skip this one.”
The Air Force brat smiles at that. “Maddy is so cool.”
Maddy? She lets people call her Maddy? Damn, apparently I'm not close enough to use her nickname. “Anyways, keep at it, and if we all die make sure Madeline puts you in her next mission.”
“Damn, dude, that's dark.”
I just shrug in a “it is what it is” way as I walk back inside.
Dominic Franco is a huge fucking guy. He's currently pumping iron on the gym mats we threw down in the corner as an “office gym.”
“Franco!” I call as he racks his 400 pounds of bench press weights. He grabs a towel, then wipes his extremely sweaty face and hands.
“Yeah boss.” His voice is deep and gruff from smoking. He stands up, towering over me at 6’ 6”.
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“So there's a big dangerous mission that will probably kill at least some of us. You don't have to go if you don't want to.”
He steps closer to me. “You saying that I'm scared?”
“No I just don't want to-”
“Cuz I ain't scared! Nothing scares ol’ Franco!”
“Okay, that's good, but the lethality rating-”
He steps into my personal space. I notice that his beard stubble is actually red. He shaves his head so I didn't know until now that he's a soulless ginger. “I will personally fuck up anything you put me against. And I ain't no chicken shit.”
I am starting to understand why this idiot didn't make it into the Rangers, and was just regular Army. There's a chance that he's too stupid to be manipulated by the madness inducing monsters we're about to face.
“That sounds perfectly reasonable and I can take that as your acceptance of the danger?”
He aggressively says, “you better fucking believe it.” Then he attempts to poke me in the chest, which, with my over 40 Strength and 30 Toughness, does nothing. He takes a step back and almost apologetically says, “uh, you're more sturdy than you look, boss man.”
“Yeah. And don't forget it.” I walk over to his weights and lift them without too much trouble. I pump the entire bar once, like it's a large dumbbell. My Strength, 63, is over 50% higher than the strongest normal human. I put the bar back with a loud clang and turn to see a shocked Franco. “Just wait until you get levels, dude.”
He swallows nervously as I walk past him.
Our team is set. Me, Jose Amarillo, Mercy Mahar, Alicia Bennet, Quinton Sheffield and Dominic Franco. I and Mercy are the front line, with everyone else behind, for now.
I expect Dominic to pick some dumb jock melee class. He's a heavy machine gun guy. I tell him to bring a lot of ammo and that he'll be able to put it in his inventory once he gets a class. I ask if he has a melee weapon he uses and he pulls out a run-of-the-mill claw hammer. I tell him to bring a sledge hammer as well. He smiles at that.
Quinns is 1000% an Archer. The only question is what classes he'll get to pick from. The system has been much less generous since I got a 5th step class on day one. Nowadays most people can only choose a 1st or 2nd step class, regardless of their stats and skills. I advise Archer, even though it leads to Sharpshooter and then Crack Shot, two classes Jose has.
CIA agent Alicia is the real question mark. She said she had a class and it was Spy, but I don't even know her loadout yet. I call her up since she's gathering her gear back at her... Hotel? Apartment?
“Hey Alicia, it's Jun.”
Her sharp voice comes over the cell phone's crap speaker as even harsher than normal. “What? You have thirty seconds.”
“Ah, right, so your combat style and loadout?”
“Handguns, I already have a class from the Rogue tree. I'll take care of my own equipment.” And then she friggin hangs up on me.
Well, that's just great. I'll start with her as a non factor in tactics until she coughs up some of her skill set beyond “typical CIA bullshit.”
By massive coincidence, the uniforms and armor Mercy designed for us have come in. We try them on and we look fucking good.
First, the default outfit that Franco, Quins, Cappy and Phoenix Team are going to wear: Black combat boots. Adjustable, black ballistic-grade Kevlar greaves rise to just below the knee. The knee is protected by a six-sided diamond shaped piece of silicon carbide that's strapped into the greave. Dark gray pants are tucked into the greaves and knee protectors. A dark red belt with an extra strap hanging from each side provides places for a hip holster and small pockets to be attached. A thin, sweat wicking black shirt is under a nano fiber, dark blue-grey coat that is short in front and about knee length in back. The coat is designed to be kept closed and hugs the body. It has armor plating built into the chest, back and shoulders. The dark red high collar is also armored, protecting our necks and mouths. The coat's sleeves are designed to be rolled up and include snaps to make this easy.
Black ballistic-grade bracers are worn along with black gloves. The blue-grey helmet is a modern military helmet including a rail system around the rim of the helmet to allow attachments like flashlights and scopes. The entire outfit is treated with chemical sprays that make it resistant to most biological and even radioactive threats. The high collar even hides goggles and a cloth head wrap that can be quickly slipped on to negate harmful pollutants. A light (for military) black backpack is worn as well. Since we have the inventory system this contains things you might need in the heat of battle, items like bandages and grenades.
Jose, Madeline and my outfits are mostly the same, but colored differently. Jose's outfit trades the blue-greys for desert tan, and the dark red for orange. He's also repainted his rifle orange. He's got both the Colt Python and a sawed off shotgun on his hips.
My outfit is white, instead of the dark blue-grey. I also traded the dark reds for bright red. I got some bonuses to being unarmored, so I don't have the armor plating in my jacket. I don't wear a sidearm on my hip, and my belt hangs with five knives on each side. Each of these is a carbon steel, tactical wakizashi with an 18 inch blade. 18 inches is the limit on what the Dracosys considers “a knife” that works with my abilities. I still have the M3 Mongoose, it's tucked into a black sheath in the small of my back.
Madeline, as a team leader, also got to customize her outfit. She went with a steel grey accented with blue and yellow. She's also got heavier, visible armor plating on her chest, back and shoulders. Her bracers and greaves are even solid steel rather than carbon fiber.
The clean, sleek, sharp lines of these outfits make us feel and look like what we are: a new breed of soldier. Warriors of the future. Dragoons. Pathbreakers.