Cloaks and Daggers

The Bounty Hunters prowled through the oblivious crowd, Anna leading the way, Nameless trailing behind with the remaining Guild members. Legends danced around midnight campfires about the Bounty Hunters Guild, the deadliest organic humans on Mars. No job too great, no task too dangerous. Nameless had done several jobs with them and knew otherwise. They were tools, victims of bureaucrats, enforcers of the cruel master's will. Children raised from birth to kill, spending all their free time mewling over arbitrary rules and customs.

As Nameless followed Anna down the crowded streets, fear rose within his chest. What about his friends? Did the Guild already have them? He knew they were all being followed; it made sense the Guild would be involved. But what if they were involved in whatever plot Jockus had devised? What if these wealthy Oasis clans paid them off to bring Nameless and his friends in?

If Julia and the others were held hostage or in danger, Nameless knew what he had to do. There was nothing left to lose. He would take as many of these pretentious Bounty Hunters out with him, no matter what, even if he had to burn this whole place down. He wouldn't let them win. Not again.

Almost as if sensing his internal turmoil, Anna looked back at him with kind eyes.

“We're not your enemies. Almost there.”

“Not yet,” he grunted.

Anna ignored his remark, continuing to lead him deeper into the bowels of the city. As they got further away from the docks, the streets and buildings became dirtier, the foot traffic less and less pleasant.

Nameless kept his guard up; it had been highly foolish of him to allow this to happen. Why had he stopped so close to the docks? Why did he think he could blend in on the Guild's home turf? He was better than this.

They took a right, entering a dismissal and dirty alleyway. Now all that could be seen was the decrepit sides of apartment buildings. The walls were moldy and covered in layers upon layers of grime and crude graffiti. On the ground lay a large group of beggars and homeless people.

Anna led the way to the dead-end of the alleyway. Nameless 's body stiffened—was this an ambush? He caressed his pistol, waiting for the slip of a knife or the cocking of a gun. His hand and arm muscles twitching with anticipation from muscle memory.

Instead, Anna approached a particular beggar on the ground and gave some kind of gesture. He nodded and rose from his spot. The group followed him to the farthest wall, where the beggar pressed his hand against the moldy grime. A keypad emerged from the false wall alcove, and the beggar put in the code. A door emerged from the false wall, some sort of clairvoyant energy field or illusion, no doubt.

Nameless chuckled.

“Secret handshakes and fake walls? This is the great Guild I've heard so much about?”

Anna turned to give him a dark look. “I would keep those kind of remarks to yourself here; you've already tempted fate enough by even showing up in the city.”

Nameless said nothing as she disappeared inside the door. He stood like a statue. Once again, he hesitated, weighing his options. He could kill these men, take their lives as quickly as snuffing out a candle, and then disappear. He could rally his friends and leave. To hell with the Guild and all their “honor.”

“Your turn, big guy,” one of the cloaked bounty hunters said.

Nameless looked at him, calculating his odds. Nameless made his decision and entered the fake door.

Inside, Anna stood with her pistol drawn. She let out a sigh of relief and holstered her weapon. She seemed to know him a little too well.

“Guess you're not as predictable as we thought.” She smiled, clearly relieved. “C'mon.”

“So trusting,” Nameless goaded.

“No telling what a cornered animal can do with its back against the wall,” Anna said as she made her way forward.

Who was this “we”? Suspicion rose as Nameless calculated his odds, playing out future scenarios repeatedly. He didn't like this at all but followed Anna anyway.

She led the way down the long hallway, illuminated by dim green lights coursing through the walls. As she made her way, Anna's form was encased in an eerie green glow, making the young woman seem like a specter, silently floating down the long, dark, empty metal hallway.

Nameless shivered, memories returning of the last hallway he had been. Overhead, the muffled sounds of vehicles and people echoed through the thin layer of cement. Clearly, they were now under the highway.

“The Guild lives in the Gutter of Oasis?”

“Like I said, times have changed,” Anna said flatly.

Their footsteps echoed in the damp as they descended further beneath the city. Soon they came to a guarded door, each side possessing a guard standing a tall.

“Blessed are the Nameless few,” one of the guards said.

“Destined and protected are they who follow in his footsteps,” Anna responded.

The guard who had spoken nodded grimly and pushed open the door, gesturing inside. Anna went through the door, Nameless following. Blessed are the Nameless? Were these people followers of the thirteenth God? Strange that bounty hunters would adhere to such a doctrine; he was a soldier's patron, not one for paid killers.

Nameless 's mind bubbled with dark thoughts and doubts as they continued onwards down a shorter, more brightly illuminated hallway. Here the hallway did not end in a doorway but opened into a great hall.

The walls were adorned with weapons, armor, and beautifully painted portraits of heroes come and gone. No doubt, these were the great bounty hunters who had left their mark upon history. Nameless recognized some from the legends he had been told growing up. There were twelve portraits in total, beautifully framed, the people residing within bearing proud posture and facial expressions. Some were in brightly polished armor, others wore fancy suits, a few seemed to hold religious garb. Almost as if portraits of the gods themselves.

Centered in the far back wall, standing over the long tables full of food, stood a proud throne-like chair. That was when Nameless noticed the thirteenth portrait. It was not like the others. This one depicted a man in a jet-black robe, his silver armor coursing with energy. His face was pale, green eyes piercing like a fox, and dark hair flowing from his head over his shoulders. The man looked almost like a Vector, yet very human and stoic.

Sitting on the throne, eerily illuminated by the candlelight, was an old man. His bald head was bare, dark skin wrinkled. His armor was worn and clearly old but sturdy. He had a single, silver ring on his hand, his eyes studying the new arrivals curiously. As his side was also a thermal knife and two pistols, one per hip.

Besides the throne was another man in long purple robes, also as old and bald as the one sitting on the throne. His face was deeply carved with age, his expression somber. A long white beard hung from his sharp face. His appearance bore a very official air, though there was no jewelry on him.

Nameless and Anna made their way between the tables of bounty hunters who were seated with their dinner. The man leaned forward in his throne, hands outstretched.

“And so,” he said quietly, piercing the dead silence of the hall, “our honored guest finally arrives. Welcome, Nameless.”

The man in the long purple robes grimaced but said nothing.

“You know me?” Nameless asked cautiously.

The old man sitting upon the throne rose and approached him. “Indeed. I have been studying your career for quite some time; I must confess that I am an ardent admirer of your methods.”

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“And what makes me so special?”

“You will address the Guild Master with respect, boy!” one of the more significant bounty hunters said, his barrel chest adorned with daggers. He had similar facial features to the old man, but his curly brown hair proudly framed his sharp face and keen eyes. He, too, had the same olive skin pigment as Anna. The old man put up his hand, to which the bounty hunter bowed immediately.

“You bear the Nameless One’s mantle. Many do, and many die swiftly for their impudence. Yet, you live, spitting in fate's eye by the day. It would seem that our patron accepts your service,” The old man smiled.

“I am Guild Master Ardo. This,” he gestured to the man in the long purple robe, “is high priest Hyforian. You, of course, know my daughter, Anna, and that is my son, Jesse.” He gestured to the barrel-chested bounty hunter.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Nameless said sheepishly. If even half of the stories he had heard about Ardo were true, he was more than deserving of respect.

“Come, “Ardo smiled, resting a wrinkled hand on Nameless shoulder, “let us break bread. It is rude to speak of business before filling your guest's stomach.”

The curious group sat at one of the tables.

“I am sorry, children, but unless your name was spoken, I must ask you leave the hall for a moment,” Ardo addressed the hall. The dozen or so bounty hunters all bowed and exited the hall through various hidden doors.

“So many theatrics,” Nameless sighed as Anna passed him a new plate.

Ardo chuckled. “These are dark and troubled times, the need for secrecy and melodrama increases by the day. It was not a few months ago that our Guild hall stood proudly on the capitol hill alongside the Lord's mansion. Now we are hunted and must accept our present accommodations,” The old Guild Master sighed.

“I know the feeling. So, why am I here?” Nameless asked.

Ardo cleared his throat, giving a wink to the bread. Nameless sighed and took a bite.

Ardo looked at Hyforian. “Remind you of anyone?” Ardo chuckled.

“He is an impotent boy,” Hyforian grunted

“Weren't we all, old friend?” Ardo asked with a twinkle in his eye.

Ardo laid his the backs of his hands on the table, palms facing towards the ceiling, solemnly tucking his chin to his chest; his eyes closed. The rest, asides from Nameless, followed suit.

“My palms are empty, my words true, my heart pure. Bless this exchange and bargain, Mistress Nima,” Ardo prayed. The group chanted the words.

“You are here,” Ardo said, raising his head and opening his eyes, “because there is a piece missing from the great puzzle. We are hoping, perhaps, you may have the last piece.”

Nameless 's gut clenched with fear. The vial? “You're not getting it that easily. I want a guarantee that my friends will be safe,” Nameless said brazenly.

Ardo smiled. “My dear boy, if I wanted your vial, I would have taken it by now. Besides, I am not worthy of holding such a holy relic.”

“Relic?” Nameless blustered.

“I knew it! He knows not what he carries! It belongs with the church, you miserable welp!” Hyforian spat.

“If I wished for you to speak harsh words and chastise him for ignorance, I would have arranged this meeting at the chapel. Be still, Hyforian,” Ardo said.

High Priest Hyforian huffed impatiently but conceded.

“The matter of the vial shall be resolved, but that is not directly why you are here. You are here because I wish to hear your side of this tragic story,” Guild Master Ardo said, looking directly into Nameless 's eyes. “Please, tell us everything you know. Leave no detail out. From your little escapade into the plant to the exchange and massacre. No lies, we may be the only group willing, or even able, to help your little party.”

Nameless told them everything. Even mentioning the Doctor's video in the plant, no detail was left out. It took longer than expected, but to Nameless 's surprise, the longer he spoke, the more comfortable the other bounty hunters seemed to get. Only Ardo showed no emotion, taking in every word the young man said. Finally, Nameless was done.

Ardo turned away, gazing silently into the distance. “It is as we feared,” he sighed.

“I don't understand,” Nameless said.

“When word reached us of your alleged betrayal, how you had killed Vice President Peirceson, betrayed Jockus, and stolen her property while conspiring with Florence, I was shocked. You never formally joined our ranks, but despite this, we still honor your apprenticeship, and view you as an honorary member.

“But you did take on a god's mantle without the church's approval or any sort of proving rights; this makes you dangerous, sure, but a traitor? It didn't seem in your character.”

“This exactly why he must rescind his name! Or risk the Nameless one’s wrath,” Hyforian seethed.

“Oh, I think he has more than earned his mantle. Dueling the blasphemous mimics, standing against corruption, treating those weaker than him as equal, if any of us are following the tenets, it is he,” Ardo said.

“This will never stand. Mantles are given by the gods; it is not taken by man's whim. This is hubris at its peak!” Hyforian snarled.

Ardo looked at Nameless. “What are your tenants?” Ardo smiled.

Nameless huffed. “My glory is victory upon the battlefield,” Nameless sighed. “My legacy is my success, my payment neither glory nor riches, but knowing that I am the silent hand that wrested victory from the foe.”

“Your second tenant?”

“To be Nameless is to embrace the path of the warrior. None shall chant my name or sing my song but shall celebrate my life by being free to continue theirs,”

“Why did you choose the mantle of the Nameless? Rather odd for a man who gets paid to kill?”

“Because I want to get paid and fuck off. I don’t care what people think of me or if they remember my name,”

Ardo smiled. “Then,” he began, “it is settled. Your proving right, will also be this new contract.”

Curiosity burned in Nameless’s mind. “Contract?”

“Aye. We have a buyer, for your vial. He is called Professor Zion,” Ardo said slowly.

“Great!” Nameless smiled.

“He’s in the dungeons right now,” Anna said, her brown skin glistening in the candlelight.

“Then how do we get paid?”

“That shall be your proving right, earning your mantle before your patron god. You shall free this agent of the stars—” Ardo began.

Nameless slammed a fist on the table. “Hell no!”

“Hear us out, lad,”

“I ain’t helping no Earther! You crazy?!”

“We never said he was from Earth,” Jesse sighed, his broad face downturned in a frown.

Nameless felt sheepish, he forgot humanity had other planets.

“Right. Sorry,” he sighed.

“You shall free this wise man,” Ardo continued, “and deliver him unto his people. He arrived here not long after the fleet showed up. Our spies interacted with him, and he says he is here for the vial. They shall pay a great deal of money, to you, a portion going to us, of course. They shall then guard the sacred relic, safeguarding it from ever being used for evil,”

Nameless was silent, contemplating. “Who is this they?”

“The very same people who created this sacred relic,” Hyforian said.

“Okay, what in the hell is this relic? What is this vial? I just want to get rid of the damn thing,” Nameless asked, exasperated.

Ardo turned to Hyforian, and the high priest sighed. “What you carry, well, it predates mankind,” Hyforian said. “During the peak of the war for Mars, before the gods ascended their human forms and took their rightful place among the cosmic pantheon, it was rumored that there were traces of ancient times. These traces, pools of absolute power predated recorded history. These ancient traces were from before Man walked on Mars. When the ancients ruled over this planet and Earth.

“They lay in dormancy, waiting at the bottom of caves, chambers, vaults, what have you. Thirteen stepped forth. Thirteen of the greatest warriors, scientists, doctors, and diplomats mankind had to offer. Each of these heroes discovered their respective traces and consumed them. That is how they ascended. The thirteen, the holy twelve if you believe the City churches’ rubbish, would go on to save Mars from her assailants, and usher in the age we now currently live in.”

Nameless chuckled. “I thought they just became gods.”

“They did; they became the very Zenith of the human form, the mightiest, most intelligent beings to ever exist in human history. They won the great war, repelled the enemy back to Earth, ensuring life as we know it now on Mars exists.”

Nameless shook his head.

“You're telling me I'm being chased for having a vial of alien goo that can turn people into gods?” Nameless said sarcastically.

“With the deepest respect to our faith,” Ardo said cautiously, “we don't know what's in that vial. We do know that the cheap knockoff of the chemical is what is used to create Vectors. It's the stuff produced in labs in the capital for the very richest to consume and get their ruling edge.”

“It is the sacred nectar of the gods. It must not fall into the wrong hands,” Hyforian said solemnly.

“Right,” Ardo said, looking at Nameless. “If you were truly the monster everyone says you are, I believe that you would have just taken the stuff and ruled the Wastes like Jockus, Florence, and Peirceson were planning to do. They are not the only ones. Word has spread throughout the planet that a potential full dose of the ancient serum is being carried around by runaway slaves.”

“Is this why there's a fleet in the sky?” Nameless asked.

Ardo shook his head. “No, that's an entirely different matter. War has been brewing since Mars rebelled. The great powers cannot allow the slight of our civilization's existence to linger. This may surprise you, but we live as savages compared to the rest of humanity out among the stars,” Ardo said.

“The ruling clans and warlords will use that vial to rule what's left of Mars once the dust settles. The corporations in the cities believe that with an army led by a General who has received a full dose of the serum, they may repel the coming assault,” Hyforian said earnestly.

Nameless said nothing, the weight of the situation bearing down on him like a mountain.

“I just wanted to sell the fucking thing,” Nameless whispered.

“We may have a solution for this,” Ardo said cautiously. “Our neutrality has proven more lethal than taking a side; if we are to choose, I shall align with one who is favored by our patron.”

“Agreed,” Anna nodded. “The fuckers chasing you would only waste the vial's contents for their own petty plans. And we can't take it; we're already hunted, it wouldn't be long before they find it and take the chemical from our dead hands.”

“This is why Professor Zion is best suited to purchase and guard the vial,” Ardo nodded.

Hyforian grimaced again. “He is a blasphemous fool; no mortal works for the divine outside the church.”

“So, you trust your brothers of the cloth with this vial? Hm?” Ardo challenged.

Hyforian said nothing.

“Whether he works for the thirteen or not, I have met him, and I find him to be a good man. I feel as though we can trust him and his organization with the vial,” Ardo said to Nameless.

“Fine. We’ll free this guy and get filthy stinking rich getting this vial off Mars,” Nameless sighed, excitement bubbling inside.

Guild Master Ardo smiled.

Suddenly, a hooded man burst into the room, out of breath.

“You dare interrupt us?!” Hyforian boomed.

“A thousand apologies, father,” the man gasped. “But they know we’re here. They’re in the tunnels!”

Ardo pounced to his feet, drawing his pistols, an electric gleen in his eyes.

“On your feet, my friends, we have work to do!”