Hand Off

The faint sun was almost directly over the camp. The tension in the air was palpable, each man and woman watching the approaching convoy. Everyone knew their job.

In the center of camp, besides Mama seat, stood Nameless. As the looming dust cloud grew larger and larger, the young bounty hunter’s stomach tightened into a knot. During the pain filled twenty years he had existed, he had killed every kind of person, or every kind of thing the Wastes had to offer. He had crawled through sewers, scaled mountains, robbed merchants, killed with a knife in the dark. But here and now, he was truly afraid.

He had never faced off against real assassins or seen true high-tech armor. He knew deep down that he was just a petty killer for hire. He wasn’t a soldier, or some kind of bold warrior or leader. Nameless was the guy a leader wanted, the one who was willing to get dirty, for a price. Now an entire convoy of people just like him, with potentially way better toys, were on their way here. He didn’t like fair fights, and he especially didn’t like how unfair this fight might turn into for the camp.

As these thoughts wrestled inside, his wounds still faintly stung, some barely scabbed over. Had Julia not given him some cheap chem-meds, he would easily be bedridden.

He scanned his surroundings, noting each of his friends' positions. Mama beside him, Aj on the tallest dune on the far-right overlooking the camp, Julia with the girls in the very back, Guard Captain Number One with his lieutenants on the left of the small group of tents, not too far from the canyon.

The scouts had been patrolling the entire morning, checking the dunes and hills, ensuring there wouldn’t be a nasty surprise in store. But this was Mars. A barren, orange wasteland, riddled with caves and shortcuts. It wouldn't be difficult at all for an enemy to sneak up on them. Nameless pushed such thoughts from his mind; he had to concentrate on the exchange.

His breathing accelerated as he stood there not moving a single muscle. Feet anchored to the Martian sand. Fear washed over him as the most heavily armed convoy he had ever seen rolled into sight. Nine mind-boggling large, treaded vehicles, burgeoning with turrets, rockets, and all types of antennae. Each one shaped like an angular oval, broad at the sides and the hull rounding its way upward. Each one was as big as Mama Jockus's tent, their metal-studded hulls gracefully gliding across the sand path as if they weren't on massive treads but rather hovering. It would have seemed comical had they not been a gigantic moving fortress.

These vehicles had to cost at least five, maybe six camps worth. How important, how high and mighty was this Mr. Peirceson anyway, that he deserved so much muscle. Nameless had ended warlords with half the muscle as this City dweller.

The lead vehicle stopped, signaling the rest on coms. The remaining convoy broke off to the left and right, forming a solid wall of stalwart metal facing the camp, all guns facing the company, a mere few hundred meters away. As the convoy sat there, small portals opened on the sides of the lead vehicle, letting a few dozen metal shapes buzz out.

Tiny autonomous recon drones buzzed around the vehicles checking close, far, and then close again for any type of threat. All seemed clear for the convoy, and heavily armored mercenaries began dismounting from the large troop carriers.

Mama Jockus reached into her travelers' clothes and produced the hollo device she had been given. It was vibrating and glowing blue. Mama held it in front of her face, seeming to answer a call and nodding, speaking words that Nameless couldn’t hear.

The side door of the middle vehicle in the convoy wall opened, and a man in a perfectly white suit jumped out, surrounded by black-cloaked figures much taller than him. They were unlike the other mercenaries in convoy.

As the group approached the camp, Nameless slowly started trudging his way toward them. As Nameless began his short journey, Guard Captain Number One slowly made his way to Nameless 's side.

“Those are vectors,” he whispered, his eyes wide, his mouth tight. He gestured to the tall, cloaked individuals striding alongside Mr. Peirceson. Nameless had no idea what a vector was, but he could see that they weren't good news even from a distance.

Mr. Peirceson strolled toward the camp in a cold and calculated gate, the vectors forming a wolf pack formation around him. As they closed the distance, a great sense of unease writhed in Nameless 's stomach.

The Vectors were slender and tall, walking inhumanly, almost like something with similar anatomy trying to imitate how a human walked. They walked upright, and their posture was impeccable. Too perfect; this was what gave them inhuman energy. Their exposed legs protruded from their pitch-black cloaks, covered in some sort of black material, with a hexagonal silver lining ingrained in the fabric. It seemed almost as if energy was coursing through those hexagon patterns.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The vectors' faces were concealed, yet their eyes glowed bright red. No other facial or bodily features could be made out, aside from the legs and slender upper bodies as they stealthily closed in on the camp.

“Are those the juiced-up killers you mentioned earlier?” Nameless nervously whispered.

“Nah. These are worse. I've only seen the aftermath of these guys, never actually seen one 'til today.”

“Awesome,” Nameless sighed.

“Good luck,” the captain grunted as he returned to his post.

Nameless stopped mid-pace. These vectors sounded familiar. Distant memories of ghost stories growing up around the fire, of slender monsters who did terrible things to people came into mind.

Nameless gulped down his fear; his gloved hand feeling the vial in his right pant pocket. A wrinkled grasp softly landed on his left shoulder, startling him. He turned to look down into Mama Jockus's stern face, resolve blazing from her eyes.

“We're right behind you, dear child. Go grab our destiny,” she said quietly, with a firm voice. Her face might as well have been sculpted from granite, with such a dogged expression. Nameless nodded and unlocked his knees, his body apprehensively moving toward the wolf pack approaching.

As the young bounty hunter drew closer and closer, his brain began going haywire, as if something foreign was injecting liquid fear into the muscle itself. What was this? He had never felt such an intense sensation before in his life.

Unknown to Nameless, the entire camp felt the same. There was something, whether it was their walk, the eyes, or how fiercely upright they carried themselves, that was inhuman about the vectors. Each one was seemingly more terrifying than all the tanks and treaded armored personnel carriers (APC) in the world. The closer Nameless got to them, the more radiating dark aura they seemed to give off.

Mr. Peirceson raised his hand, and the wolf pack stopped instantly, their legs retreating behind the curtain of their pitch-black cloaks, their eyes never lifting off the approaching young man. A low-frequency buzzing, so intense it almost made one wonder if they had tinnitus, could be heard. It was as if the vectors were somehow communicating with each other this way. Mr. Peirceson shook his head at them, and the buzzing ceased.

The man in the perfect white suit and the Nameless Bounty Hunter came together, ten feet apart, facing one another directly.

“Where is my vial, boy?” Mr. Peirceson asked, his flat tone cutting through the fog of fear within Nameless 's head.

“In my pocket. Where's the money?”

“Do I look like an idiot to you? Show me,” Mr. Peirceson growled, his cold synthetic eyes drinking in the boy's fear with a dark glint. The man was clearly in his element.

Nameless swallowed his fear, reached into his pocket, and pulled out the vial. He held it up for everyone to see, its bright blue liquid glowing in the Martian sun. The vectors twitched and fidgeted for the first time. Low tone buzzing and chattering began omitting from underneath their dark hoods. Mr. Peirceson waved his hand again, and they fell silent.

“Where is our money?” Nameless tried to say firmly, his voice cracking.

Mr. Peirceson chuckled.

“I must admit, I am rather impressed, boy,” He paused, a smile cracking his cold face. “Do you have even the slightest idea of what you retrieved?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.”

Mr. Peirceson gave a sly, cold chuckle. “You're the first desert dweller to actually succeed in this task. You certainly have talent; I happen to have an eye for these things. Why don't you come back with us, and I'll show you what that chemical can do. I could always use more vectors.”

Pure shock rang through Nameless 's body. What the hell was in this vial? What were these vectors? They were easily taller than everyone in the camp. Was this the true nature of the vial? Where those people under those pitch-black cloaks with glowing red eyes?

Nameless shook his head, his voice cracking.

“I appreciate the offer, but I like my camp,” he stammered.

Mr. Peirceson rolled his eyes, then nodded his head. A heavily armored mercenary from one of the trucks hopped out. A stainless ceramic briefcase was handcuffed to him. He rapidly jogged to the Man in the perfect white suit, making sure to go around the Vector wolf pack. The mercenary held the suitcase at chest level, the code input pad facing outward.

Mr. Peirceson turned and put in the passcode, unlocking the case. Its cover opened seamlessly, all open eyes searching for what lay inside. What was inside astonished Nameless. Real, actual money, made of paper, no less. There had to be hundreds of thousands, maybe millions!

“I reward good behavior, boy. Now, hand over the vial,” Mr. Peirceson ordered.

Nameless turned to look at Mama Jockus, her bloodless face outlined by a wide grin that seemed to fold her face, her eyes the size of saucers. She nodded vigorously. Nameless turned and held out the vial in one hand, the other one reaching for the briefcase. The mercenary closed the suitcase and held it outward as Mr. Peirceson simultaneously held out his hand for the vial.

The three people drew closer and closer as the exchange was almost complete. Just a few paces, Nameless thought, then these cloaked nightmares along with their master would be gone. Their new life could begin. He could take Julia away to some green world; maybe Aj would tag along. He was so close, hope rising within his skinny frame.

Mr. Peirceson's fingers wrapped around the vial, and Nameless 's fingers grasped the suitcase handle. Relief flooded through the young bounty hunters skinny body. The Man in the perfect white suit, the masked mercenary, and the young bounty hunter stood there. Connected for a moment, no more than a half-second. It was as if time had slowed down. A mere, singular second, forever framed in Nameless 's mind the rest of his life.

Connected, like children in a dance, each life at a turning point. Two pawns, one master. Two short lives bound in slavery, doomed to wander the dust and fire of this failed world, one born into luxury, meant to rule. This fleeting moment of triumph and reward seemed carved in Nameless ’s mind.

BOOM.