Chapter 8 Job Satisfaction

 

Quietly, Roach entered a room and closed the door behind him.

Hunched over Goliath was a female doctor and elven healer who worked together to mend Goliath's colossal body after the devastating blast. Science and ancient runes intertwined, bridging the present and a forgotten past. Unfortunately, it was reserved for those with coin, or in this case, an Unwanted.

“How is he?” Roach questioned, leaning his back on the wall.

“He’ll live,” the doctor replied without taking his eyes off the wound. “His skin has already started stitching itself back together. We had to put the ribcage back in place but that was it. It does appear two of his vertebrae have fused but I understand that’s genetic. I’ve never come across someone who heals as fast as he does—we couldn’t even get through his skin at first either.” Scattered on a wheeled table next to the doctor were a plethora of bloody surgical tools.

Roach nodded. “When will he be up?”

The doctor checked her watch. “Well, we gave him some stims twenty minutes ago—”

“AHHHHH!” Goliath yelled, shooting upright in bed and swinging wildly with his arms, narrowly missing the doctor and healer. Roach was quick to react, rushing over to his side and placing a hand on his good shoulder. “Easy, mate, you’re alive.”

Goliath panicked and grunted quickly - rage still present in his golden eyes. Soon, his shocked state became relaxed, and his clubby hands found their way to his wound. The healer quickly slapped them away. “Don’t ruin it now,” she told him sternly.

Goliath calmed his breath and let his head fall onto comfy pillows. “Is she alive?”

“That would be a good way of describing her. She’s pretty fucked up mentally,” Roach replied, taking his hand off his shoulder. “Team is all getting checked up, you got nothing to worry about.”

“Fuck, where’s my mist?” Goliath asked, his hand wandering to the bedside table.

“Here,” Roach said, handing it to him. “Don’t worry, they’re under oath.” He nodded to both the healer and the doctor.

The door was suddenly opened, and in walked Mercy. “Thank you for your help,” he told the healer and doctor. “Please leave.”

“Right, sir.”

“Good job, Goliath,” Mercy said to him at the end of the bed just as the door closed behind him.

“What’s her father said, sir?” Goliath asked, wincing.

“He will be here momentarily. Lady Evergrand is under twenty feet of reinforced concrete with a battalion of Unwanted surrounding her. There are no guards present either. She is, however, a bit disturbed.”

“We were only tasked with keeping her alive, sir,” Goliath responded.

“That you did,” Mercy agreed, walking up to the IV drip and touching the bag.

“What the fuck was all that about then?” Roach questioned. “Guards attacking us? Those guys in particular get weekly inspections about corruption.”
“I am as angry as you, Roach,” Mercy told him, squeezing the IV bag. “We found one just barely alive after the explosion. He’s currently in an interrogation room. We will get every bit of information out of him.”

“I’d like to pay him a visit—”

“No, Goliath,” Mercy told him, and with a flick of his wrist, Goliath was thrust back into the bed. “He is more valuable alive than paste on the walls. Besides, Boseman is with him.”

“Even better,” Goliath grunted with a hurtful chuckle, resting his head again. 

“If you would like, Roach can do the debrief,” Mercy offered Goliath. “You are injured—let one of your teammates help.”

Goliath closed his eyes and nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

Mercy opened the door for Roach. “Come then.”

 

As Mercy continued down the corridor, the Slavic man could feel an intense aura pulsating around his subordinate. It was extremely diminished, concealed by his training, but not for the keen eye of an Elder. Heading into a secluded room, Mercy closed the door behind him and locked it shut.

“It’s him, sir,” Roach said hastily while trying to keep his heart rate steady. “The bastard is a Child of Discordia.”

“Who?” Mercy questioned.

“Akira Weslen. Half British, half-Mongolian. Leader of the Unholy Brothers and the one who made me, sir.”

“You remember what we talked about,” Mercy said, placing both hands on Roach’s arms. “This man gets to you—do not let it control you.”

With a shaky breath out, Roach calmed down significantly. “I know it's him, sir. I could feel it.”

“Did you see his face?”

“Yes,” Roach grunted. “Five foot, nine inches, walks with his hands always by his side. His right index finger has a scar across it and he has a permanent but discrete limp in his right leg. I couldn’t face him, none of us could.”

Mercy rubbed his temples. “We may have picked a hard bargain here, Roach. I did feel his aura when I came down.”

“He ate my bullets like they were nothing. No human can do that. Whatever the fuck he is now, sir, it’s not good. For me and you,” Roach explained to him. “But it’s him, I know it is.”

Mercy rolled his tongue along his bottom lip. “At least we have a name and a face. The rest of them were all veterans from the old wars, trying to make it as mercs.”

“So desperate for the coin they’d do anything. It does sound like him too, sir. False promises that lead to a life of torture and agony. I don’t know what he’s planning but New London will be at his will if he wants it.”

“I know I know,” Mercy agreed. “We need to have an emergency briefing. Gather the team and head to the war room. I’ll have to make some calls.”

“Yes, sir. But, please don’t forget our deal.”

“The deal was never out of the question, Roach, you will have him.”

“Thank you, sir.”

 

Fifteen minutes later.

 

Every Elder and Guardian rank was crammed into a large chamber room. It was dome-shaped with a podium in the centre. There was no decor or paint, only simple lights that cast a shadow on every dark mist in the chamber. Standing out against the dark mist was the Ill-Favoured Five, wrapped in bandages and dosed with painkillers. Goliath, who was burdened with the greatest affliction, stood taller than them all, not daring to show his pain.

“This briefing is on the Children of Discordia,” Mercy told them, standing on a raised platform. “As most of you know, Elora Evergrand’s SPD was attacked in the early morning. There were hundreds of them. Almost all of them were veterans from the First and Second Wars of New Kings, while the rest were bought mages and kobolds. Each of them was slave bound offering no information to us. 

We will need to do raids and sweeps on every unregistered veteran inside New—”

Mercy was interrupted by the double doors being pushed open and Boseman stepping inside, commanding every face to his own. “The guy talked - well, when we brought his wife in he did.”

Mercy nodded, giving the go-ahead. Boseman cleared his throat and told them, “He was given 350 gold upfront and would get 400 gold if their objective was successful. If the others couldn’t kidnap her then they would kill as a last resort. No one came to speak to them, it was all over call.”

“Whoever the fuck they are have coin to spare,” an Elder commented. “That’s ten years' salary for them.”

“Precisely,” Mercy continued, “we have to imagine our enemy has unlimited resources. But… We do know who is in charge of them now.” Mercy grabbed a remote and pressed a button. In the centre of the room, above his head, a holographic image was projected, revealing a disturbing photo of a man standing on a pile of bodies with a disturbing smile on his face.

The man's face captivated Roach as if it held a haunting story within. Countless horrifying memories flashed across his eyes, the kind that no young boy should ever endure.

“Old friend of yours?” Spike whispered to Roach, noticing his interest.

Roach ignored him.

“This is Akira Weslen. Half-British, half-Mongolian. He is a necro-warrior who fought in the First and Second Wars of New Kings. He is a highly skilled mage in Bone, Soul and Fleshmancy, as well as being an expert with bladed weapons. After the wars, he was offered a job teaching at the Seven Sphere Magical University in the Overground. Only after a week, he was caught experimenting with something called Plain Walking which involved the torturing of blank souls to access. Once confronted, he killed 74 people and escaped.”

“Was he responsible for all those dead kids too, sir?” a guardian asked.

“Yes; 461 dead children - all died from their experiments or from a fire in that warehouse. They were known as the Band of Unholy Brothers. He is currently off all our public databases and has no address, no family - nothing. He is a ghost, but we know his name.”

“His GMS, sir?” Pointy questioned.

“His last GMS was over twelve years ago. Bonemancy: 46.1, Soulmancy: 50.2, and Fleshmancy: 53.7.”

“Fuck,” an Elder muttered. “Does that put him over?”

“Yes. He is classified above the current Grandmaster of the Black Moon at the Seven Sphere Magical University. Then add twelve years onto that. Not only does he have high scores, but he is a veteran. He fought in the Splintered Lands, and the Yellow Sea and was the reason why Kronos’s Keep didn’t fall in the Second War. Seven White Moon medals, Victoria Cross - ended his career at Major. He was too mentally unstable to progress further and giving him a dishonourable discharge was seen in bad taste.”

“So this motherfucker has a hard-on for war?” Spike questioned. “Sir.”

“If he is the leader of the Children of Discordia, then chaos is what he wants. No doubt he is using the ancient cult's name to act as a front for his ulterior motive. Fear is a weapon.”

“Where’s his funding coming from?” a misted face questioned.

Mercy shrugged. “Every coin was unmarked. All the vehicles were second-hand and bought online. We are still blind. I will be asking you Elders to place every Fodder you have under you on intelligence gathering. We have a deal with the king now… let us burn our name into his kingdom.”

The Elders nodded while the rest shouted, “Yes, sir!”

 

As everyone began to funnel out, Mercy held back the team.

“How are you all doing?” Mercy asked.

“Better days, sir,” Pointy sighed, wincing.

“I just need a bag full of gold in a whore house, sir,” Spike said honestly. “Where the bitches give massages too… so does Cum Dumpster.” He looked off longingly into the distance.

“I cannot help you with that,” Mercy told him. “If you would, follow me, there’s someone who wants to see you.”

“I swear to fuck, if it’s that bitch—”

Roach slapped the back of Spike’s head since Goliath couldn’t. “I’m sure she wouldn’t be here.”

The team found themselves guided to a desolate corner of the base, where only a handful of Fodder wandered, serving little purpose. Amidst this eerie quiet, they ventured into a residential sector, their steps echoing through the sterile corridors. Soon, Mercy ushered them into a secluded room.

The team saw a well-dressed but dishevelled-looking man. His once-combed hair hung wildly across his eyes, echoing a sense of panic and urgency. 

“Lord Evergrand, this is the Ill-Favoured Five,” Mercy announced after closing the door.

“Oh, thank you, thank you so much,” Lord Evergrand said, running over to the team, practically falling into Goliath.

Goliath tried his best to keep himself from screaming in pain. “Uh, you’re welcome, Lord Evergrand.”
“I should have known something was up,” Lord Evergrand said, breaking away and beginning to shake everyone’s hands. Eventually, he reached Mute who stared blankly at him. Nevertheless, he dismissed the effort.

“Pointy said there was something you should know,” Mercy explained.

“What is it?” Lord Evergrand asked, perplexed. “Is there another attack coming?”

“Unfortunately,” Pointy said, clearing his throat, “your daughter was tracked.”

“What?”

Pointy revealed the broken piece of jewellery from his cloak. “Lady Evergrand - your daughter, was wearing this. It’s a special type of tracker that absorbs magical signals outputted from mana-powered devices; it then transmits signals to a specific crystal which is outside the range of our jammers… She said your brother gave it to her.”

“He did,” Lord Evergrand muttered, taking it carefully from him. “My brother did this?”

“That is what she said,” Pointy replied, bowing his head. “I do regret informing you.”

Lord Evergrand stared into space momentarily then slammed the necklace down onto a table with a clenched fist. “My brother, betraying me? That fucking prick. This isn’t some sort of scheme from you, is it?”

“We don’t care for that stuff, mate,” Spike interjected.

“Are you two rivals, Lord Evergrand?” Mercy proposed. 

Lord Evergrand shook his head. “No - not really. He is the older one - the heir, but he never wanted it. Preferred frolicking with whores in fields of wheat than doing what was best for the family.”

Spike tilted his head to the side, finding Lord Evergrand’s brother to be a man of acceptable principle. 

“How much power does he have?” Mercy pried further.

“He has his businesses but not anything close to us or access to the vaults. He’s not greedy per se but he does have a… different side to him. Mercy, or is it Elder Mercy?” Lord Evergrand questioned.

“Mercy is fine, Lord Evergrand.”

"Call me Henry. I'm willing to cooperate with you. You've not only saved my daughter from a kidnapping and possible murder but also exposed my brother's betrayal. Our immediate funds are at your disposal - helicopters, planes, firearms - whatever you need, I’ll buy it. I'll handle my brother with my team. I only want you to find the people responsible for this and make them suffer the most incredible pain possible. Can you do that for me?”

Mercy was speechless. 

“Do we have a deal, Mercy?” Lord Evergand offered again, extending his hand.

Mercy, still speechless, shook it.

“Then it is final. As for the Ill-Favoured Five, I will be paying you double whatever you would earn from this mission.”

“Thank you, Lord Evergand,” Goliath spluttered out.

“No, thank you. I was wrong in not trusting you. Your eyes and ears are better than my own. I must be going now, I have my brother to track down, thank you again.”

The door closed behind him and not a pin drop could be heard.

“Two bags of gold for the whorehouse,” Roach noted to Spike, breaking the silence.

“I don’t think you understand just how much coin that man has,” Pointy explained. “From the most recent public records, his investment firm has over twenty times our organisation’s estimated value. His immediate fund would be—”

“Triple our budget for the entire year,” Mercy finished, still staring off into space.

“Wait, so does that mean we get AC down, here ‘cause I’m sweatin’ more than a pedo in a playground?” Spike rhetorically asked.

“A lot more than that,” Goliath noted in the same wonderment as Mercy.