The rail screeched to a stop and the mercenary stepped out from its rusted doors. There was a rail system between the sectors of Juniper City, but very few used them. The only benefit was the bulletproof glass and relative safety they gave. If he had walked it would have taken quite a bit longer and been far more dangerous. The edges of sectors were where most gangers lay in wait, most never left their home sector, as each was a city within itself, but the gangs of the city would always prey on those that did. Who in the new sector would notice their disappearance after all? Gunnar himself also rarely left his home, he had only really stepped foot outside of sector 14 for work and that was something he tried to avoid.

He eyed up the station he had stepped onto and the surrounding buildings. He spied quite a bit of Thyrsus Society symbolism and tags, which likely meant they were dominant here. Not the worst of the gangs to be in charge, though it depended more on the posse than the gang affiliation, but generally the Society cared too much for their reputation to be openly cruel. He had seen enough evidence to know just how surface level that reputation was.

From what little he knew of this particular sector though, sector 8, the Bluttschmeide were pretty dominant. Out of every major gang in Juniper City and beyond, Bluttschmeide was the least likely to make your life a living hell. Their history was well known, disgraced former smiths of the nobility, loyal to the Great Authority before its fall, they fell with it, but they still kept their skill and somehow maintained something of a decent reputation.

Like any that fell though, they ended up turning to crime, but Bluttschmeide valued their once high honour and most members fought to keep a somewhat upright image, or as upright as criminals could have. Many years had passed and the group had spread across the city and beyond, the original members had all long died out of course and there were less and less posse’s that knew their legendary craftsmanship. Still, the gang attracted the physically powerful and those that found the other choices too diabolical.

Gunnar opened a city map on his cellpad, not highly detailed, but enough to get by. He looked around searching for the road he needed and set off. The area he was in was very run down, but quiet, not much gunfire around which had become unfortunately rare these days. The mercenary wandered around until he found the road his map pointed to. A small cul de sac with what was clearly a small church on the other end right at the middle of all the other buildings. He found there were a few eyes on him as he walked towards it. If this really was Davon’s home he couldn’t imagine a man like that was well liked by his neighbours.

Every window of the church had been boarded up, bug-eaten banners swayed a little in the undercity winds. There was an atmosphere around the building, haunting, strange. Even Gunnar felt uncomfortable somehow, though for what reason he didn’t know. He had been to far more disturbing locations. Like a Thyrsus grafting farm, which was a memory he didn’t enjoy having.

Though the mercenary found himself hesitant, he tried the front door. No luck. It had been left locked, which wasn’t a surprise. He was strong and the door was old so there was a chance he could break it down, but he already had enough curious eyes on him. So the mercenary walked around the right side of the church. Sticking out of the wall were the same pipes that the central church had, so if he needed any more proof that this belonged to the Gospel, there it stood. Less over all, but it was far smaller.

He studied the wall, looking for doors or some kind of opening. All he could see was graffiti and brick. Gunnar followed a few marks of graffiti around a section of wall that stuck out. Behind it sat a crumbled down section of the wall, just wide enough for him to squeeze through. No doubt bored children used this as a play area, no doubt their parents objected. He just hoped they didn’t accidentally or purposefully do something to tarnish whatever evidence might have been left behind.

Gunnar forced his body through with only minor dust and debris ruining his second favourite jacket. The inside of the church itself was incredibly dark, save for the minor lightbeams that leaked through the boarded windows and the crack he had just come through. He reached into a jacket pocket and pulled out a small device with a torch attached on one end, the mercenary pushed a button down on its side and smacked it against the wall. Three claws shot out of its rear end and dug into the wall, the light flashed on and grew strong enough to illuminate the entire main room of the small church.

The new light confirmed that the church had been long abandoned, save for some more graffiti and the beds of homeless dwellers. So at the very least Devon wasn’t here, that didn’t mean Gunnar couldn’t find out where he was though. There were also signs of struggle, amongst the debris he could see long dried blood, and the hints of skeletons with little flesh still clinging to them. The bones were stained green. Which was a little confusing, the last time they saw one of the cultists die they just sort of melted. Perhaps this wasn’t one of them, but a victim?

Over all this building stood several leagues smaller than the main church, in fact it would likely fit inside of the other one. It did still have some small walkways in the same spot overlooking the main stage, so perhaps Puinsee visited on occasion, a God likely would find the travel easy.

Wherever this flock had gone, they left their holy book. Gunnar grabbed it as he explored, the chance was low, but he might find a use for it. Maybe it could provide hints to help speed up Walther’s team.

Gunnar continued to look around, other than this central room, there were two other doors aside from the entrance. The main room didn’t give him what he wanted, but it also looked designed purely for worship. If it was anything like the other one the followers lived on site, so they’d have rooms somewhere else.

As soon as he entered through the right hand door, the mercenary realised just how similar the design was to the other church and at the same time how very different. Both doors lead into this same room, at its center lay a wide stairway that led to a cellar, it went directly below where the main room stood. Otherwise the room was filled with gun racks and lockers. There were a few weapons left over, minor ones handguns and rusted rifles, there were also more signs of fighting in here. At a guess Davon’s group fled the scene and took everything they could, a lot of what remained had been scattered across the ground, some had fallen down the stairs including a singular body. On the various tables were, well Gunnar didn’t know what they were. They looked like alchemy stations straight out of an old holovod. Unfortunately whatever substance that the glass vials held had all been emptied or smashed and judging by some of the bullet holes that may have been on purpose. Their escape was quite meticulous despite the clear speed they adopted, so why did they leave their prayer book?

Gunnar picked up a glass vial that had some sort of long dried residue left on it, he cleaned up the broken glass and wrapped it in a bandage. Then, turned to the stairs and began to walk its steps. Each one got him closer to the smell of rotten food, so they must not have cleared out everything.

The layout of the cellar mimicked the main church perfectly, save for the lack of a cellar door to the outside and one other small difference. The door that led to the speakers room. The First Speaker had a simple door with barely the sign that he was the one in charge. Devons had golden accents and a symbol at its center. It must have been their religious symbol, but Gunnar was yet to see it anywhere else. He didn’t know what else a halo above what looked like mist could be.

Whilst there were a few items that had been left behind and one skeleton lying on a bed, Gunnar felt as though if there was anything useful it would be in Devon’s private room. So, that’s where he headed, straight for the fancy door.

On the other side of it he found a decently lavished bedroom. Honestly he expected far worse given the entrance and general vibe, but it was about as luxurious as his own living space. Which for the Gospel was very luxurious if the main church was anything to go by. A double bed with a basic wooden headboard, a small private bathroom with the bare minimal facilities, a few pieces of furniture and a desk.

Hanging from the wall by the desk was a Homecell, a rare thing. A cellpad that was hooked up to a central grid, it forgoed the payment for each call, but wasn’t the least bit mobile. He didn’t remember seeing such a thing in the first Speakers room. He flicked through recent contacts and tried to find any messages but all had been deleted. No doubt a tech expert could find some sort of trace, nothing was ever truly deleted after all. He hesitated, but unplugged the pad and dropped it in a deep pocket.

There was nothing in the bathroom, no half flushed secrets, or secret messages so the mercenary delved into Devon’s storage. Digging through drawers and the wardrobe. Mostly it was just clothing, some rotted at the sleeves. If the Gospel takes off their suits, are they just walking bioweapons? Perhaps that’s how Devon enjoyed spending his spare time.

Finally in one of the desk draws he came across a journal, or possibly a diary. It was unlikely important, given he left it behind, but it was worth a look. Gunnar tutted as he flipped through the pages, but found himself quite disappointed. It was all quite normal professional correspondence, read more like a businessman’s diary than a cult leader’s. He couldn’t help but chuckle, if this guy was so sure his apparent violent ways were right, why did he hide them?

There were only a few pages that stood out to any level. The first Gunnar found was near the front of the book. A rant about how his flock was now free of the ancient speaker’s weakness. Then, further in were the other two pages, or to be exact they were both right at the end of the book. The first mentioned an anonymous donator that had been mentioned quite a few times before, seemed as though Devon didn’t even know their name. Then, on the second to last page it simply mentioned that their experiment was successful. A date that perfectly matched up with the death of Aethel’s family.

Finally, at the last written page, what had first started as a normal entrance about prayer hours and donations was a warning. It must have been a warning to any of this flock that were not currently at home. It simply said “The beast has come” scrawled over half the page.

Gunnar sighed deeply. Was he angry? Frustrated? So in the end Devon was an enemy of Puppet too. Could one of these bodies be his? Though there were not that many bodies so some must have escaped. Did they have a disagreement after the job was done? A whole other set of questions that he had to store in the back of his mind. This wasn’t what he needed.

The mercenary shook his head and threw the diary in his bag. He continued to rifle through the rest of the room. There had to be something else useful. A postcard, a ticket, anything that might have been some indication of where they ran. He stopped in his tracks, as there was something. A set of tickets, just as he had hoped. Seven of them, in a bedside draw. All with different dates but the same destination, Guilders Rise. Gunnar hadn’t heard of it before, but the tickets said it was a mining outpost, which meant it had to be out in the sun wastes.

Thousands of folk toiled daily in the sun wastes, to some it was an opportunity for a better life, less gangers and mercenaries out in the blistering heat. The Ring still needed metals and rock and the mines within its walls had all been picked bone dry over the many years. Gunnar had never been out of the Ring himself, he never had a need to. There was a desire, the freedom out there had an appeal, but despite the dangers of the undercity, he didn’t want to live anywhere else.

Guilders Rise wasn’t the main mining outpost of the Ring, it wasn’t even Juniper City’s main source of minerals and ores. Gunnar had very little knowledge of the mines, but everyone in the city would at least know the name of their primary mine, its name was imprinted in any iron or steel product you could buy, Prosper. It was sizable enough to be called a town rather than an outpost and had even become self-sufficient whereas most relied heavily on their parent city.

That in mind, if Devon was searching for a new base in fear of Puppet or for whatever other reason, it wouldn’t have been a bad place. Especially given the location of their main church it must have felt like home. So. The question was, what was he going to do now? If he went, would he actually finally get some answer? Also, why was the death of his friend’s family such a guarded secret?

Though he had to ask himself, was he the one that was going to check out this particular lead? Travel several days outside the ring on the chance that it could help? The city had been hit by disaster after disaster recently, all linked to Puppet and who knows what the beast would do whilst he was away. He would be gone for at the very least half a week if not more, that is if he could even get a ride that far out. He didn’t have a vehicle and he couldn’t drive even if he did.

This wasn’t a decision Gunnar could make on his own, he certainly couldn’t disappear without telling anyone. Before talking to Walther and his lackeys, he first wanted to discuss it with his friends. More specifically Aethelstan. No doubt Aethel would want to come along, possibly rip Devon limb from limb and Gunnar didn’t know if he could convince him otherwise. At least not by himself.

The mercenary searched around a little more, just to see if there was anything else useful, but there was nothing save for scraps. He made his way out of the church with the score he had. Though as soon as the mercenary stepped outside, he felt uncomfortable. Something was wrong.

Gunnar spun around and looked for something. It felt like there were eyes on him, but he couldn’t see any. ‘Did you follow me again?’ he asked out into the world. Could Puppet have already recovered, stalking him once again.

‘Again?’ a voice called from the shadows.

A mild panic lifted from Gunnar’s heart as the body stepped from the darkness. It was Juju, Walther’s man on the streets. Surprisingly stealthy, not something he would have expected. He also did not look happy to see him again.

Juju blocked Gunnar’s way back out into the street, he held an aggressive stance. ‘What are you doing all the way out here?’

Gunnar smiled, feeling quite baffled. ‘Did… Did you follow me?’ he asked, chuckling.

‘That’s right. Ran away almost as soon as you arrived after whispering something to Wen-Lian. Fuckin’ suspicious if you ask me,’ the man growled.

Honestly, he couldn’t help but be impressed. According to Walther’s introduction this man wasn’t a fighter, but somehow he managed to stay hidden from Gunnar’s radar for more than a few hours. Was he even on the same railcar as him? Gunnar was a skilled mercenary, that wasn’t arrogance, to not get caught shows skill on Jujus part too. No wonder Walther hired the man.

That didn’t mean that he was just gonna let the man disrespect him though. ‘It’s private business that I asked Wen-Lian for help with. Our lovely boss gave me free reign until he needs me.’ Gunnar did wonder if it was really private business at this point, but he didn’t want to divulge his friends’ problems when it still could end up being completely unrelated. Though the chance was low at this point.

Juju crossed his arm and laughed sarcastically. ‘Ha! I knew we couldn’t trust you.’

Honestly at this point, Gunnar was quite flabbergasted. ‘You can’t trust me, because I have privacy? I suppose you’re a completely open book to everyone around you then?’

The man poked Gunnar’s chest with a bony finger. ‘I can’t trust you because you’re keeping secrets.’

Gunnar had to squeeze his fist to stop himself from decking the skinny man in front of him. ‘Are you kidding me? Everyone working for Walther has secrets. Walther has secrets. No one shares absolutely everything about themselves. You wanna tell me your entire life story? I’ll fuckin’ listen!’

He shook his head. ‘That’s not the same. None of us can betray Walther, none of us could,’ he paused before getting right in Gunnar’s face. ‘Except you. Nothing but a hired gun with more baggage than he’s worth.’

All the mercenary could do was stutter, he found his anger fading, making its way for pure confusion. ‘I don’t even know you. You don’t even know me. The fuck are you talking about?’

‘We’ve been watching you for weeks and I’ve known plenty like you.’

Gunnar sighed and pinched his brow. ‘Do I need to remind you that it was your boss that invited me? I’m not infiltrating your organisation. Also I got this address from Wen-Lian, what kind of heinous shit am I going to get up to whilst letting you guys know exactly where I am? Use some common sense man!’

Juju scowled at the mercenary, spat at his feet and then turned around. ‘I’m not gonna let you fuck us over. I’m gonna be watching every step you take, mercenary.’

There was undeniable anger now, before he could leave Gunnar grasped his shoulder and span him around, gritting his teeth. Juju winced from the strength of his grip. ‘No you don’t get to leave. Not after being a primo cunt. You think you can just go around treating people like shit?’

He tried to wiggle out of Gunnar’s grip and smiled. It felt like a somewhat dark smile, no joy, just misery. ‘I don’t even need to prove it. You prove it yourself. A typical mercenary, all violence, no diplomacy.’

Almost instinctively, Gunnar let go of the man’s shoulder who stumbled backwards. The way Juju worded it, what he said. Gunnar had seen enough trauma to recognise it. The man had definitely been hurt and it very likely involved a mercenary. He felt his anger begin to fade. There was no point getting angry here, the only thing it would do was vindicate the man’s blind hatred.

He raised his hands up, a sign of peace, Juju looked away and hunched up, a complicated expression worn upon his face. ‘Listen. Whether you like it or not, we’re working together. I ain’t gonna tell you to trust me, cus honestly you lot are some of the most untrusting miserable group of bastards I’ve ever met.’ He paused and thought. ‘Save for Wen-Lian I guess. Still. I get it, I really do, but I’m not gonna be able to do my job if you’re this openly hostile, you get me?’

His conversation partner still did not seem amused by his response, though he had calmed down a little. Gunnar had to wonder why he had come across so many people like this recently. The mercenary resigned himself to being the bigger man. ‘Look. I didn’t want to shout it out to the world cus it’s my friend’s personal life. His family died in a strange explosion when we were kids and now we’re pretty sure this particular flock of Puinsee’s Gospel did it.’ He nodded towards the church.

Juju blinked. ‘Oh,’ he responded rather simply. ‘You couldn’t have just said that?’

‘Would you?’ Juju couldn’t reply to that, they both knew he wouldn’t. ‘Though. Honestly I think I would’ve told Walther soon anyway.’

‘Why?’

Gunnar lent against the wall of the church. ‘Mounting evidence that it was Puppet that wiped this lot out.’

Juju frowned. ‘When did your friend’s family di– Pass away?’

‘Almost 20 years ago. Which means that if my hunch is correct, Puppets been pulling strings in this city for a long while.’ If he could unload this particular problem onto the noble, Gunnar was happy to. He just wanted to concentrate on the Aethel side of the problem. The worry was that both problems were fully entangled already.

Juju didn’t seem too shocked by the news, in fact he looked to be calculating something. ‘When we first learnt about the beast, Slaine blazed through the net and Wen-Lian looked through old rumours and leads. We’d seen hints at the beast’s involvement for a few decades now. Random death, sightings of monsters in the night, that sort of thing. But, there was no actual evidence and the city was already filled with death, so it was hard to throw it up on the boards.’

Gunnar didn’t know how far he could push Juju, he seemed loyal to the point of offense. If he insulted Walther or tried to push for too much information he felt he’d just irritate the man more. ‘So. We’re dealing with two deep and long laid plans for the city, neither of which we know all the details to, but we do know they run counter to each other despite having over all a similar desire.’ He glanced at Juju to try and read his expression. ‘Unless you know some details regarding Walther’s grand plans?’

His curiosity got the better of him. Juju did not like that question. ‘I know more than you, but no more than I need to. Don’t try and get anything out of me sunshine,’ he warned the mercenary. ‘Oh and just in case the thought crossed your mind, don’t try and get anything out of Wen Lian either. Lord Walther will tell you when you need to know.’

The two stared at each other for a moment, the smaller man sized Gunnar up and down again. ‘Lord Walther is a good man, I trust him with my life.’

‘He’s a noble,’ Gunnar stated. Though, even he had to admit Walther hadn’t done much to warrant his distaste. Other than the casual spying, but that was not limited to the nobility.

‘There are hundreds of thousands of nobles across the Ring, you can’t lump them all together.’

Gunnar grinned. ‘You mean like you do with mercenaries?’

The accused winced. His body folded quickly. ‘Alright. Point taken,’ he sighed. ‘We all got our flaws. Still doesn’t mean I like you.’

‘I know. Mines being too handsome. It’s honestly a burden.’ Though he had turned away, the mercenary felt a severe glare radiating against him. Gunnar cleared his throat. ‘So can I ask you where this devotion comes from?’

Juju’s already glowering expression gloomed even further. ‘Not something I enjoy talking about, but it’s in my public files so no point hiding it. I was a complete addict, fucked up beyond belief. The lord saved my life and helped me get clean. It’s no special story. Nothing unique. He didn’t even know I’d be useful when he saved me he’s just… A good man.’

Gunnar had begun to feel quite bad. There was no reason to be as hostile as he was really. Though there also wasn’t a reason for them to be so hostile to him. ‘A good man would do more than help just one random addict… Though, I suppose he is doing that.’ Gunnar sighed. ‘Listen. I ain’t happy about being kept in the dark, and yeah, I got a problem with nobles, find me a dweller that don’t. But I’m gonna do the best I can for the old man you hear? He pays me well and yeah, seems to mean well too.’

A noise expelled out of Juju’s mouth that Gunnar recognised. The sound of someone who knows they’re being stubborn and a little childish. ‘Then do your best to show me I’m wrong about mercenaries.’

That was probably the closest thing he would get to an apology. It wasn’t one, of course, but they also weren’t in an apologising sort of relationship. If he wanted to keep this job, he would at least need a working relationship with the man. He had never really had to deal with having co-workers before.

Juju coughed. ‘More importantly. Your friends’ killers. If you think it’s related to Puppet you need to report it to Lord Walther. Or at least Oswin. Also, uh. I wish your friend luck. I wish we all had the opportunity to fuck up the bastards that screw us.’

No doubt the man before him had also lost plenty. Aethel lost more than most, unfortunately that most folk hadn’t lost a whole heap too. He nodded. ‘Yeah I’ll give the boss a heads up. Just need to talk to the friend in question about it first. I’ll uh, see you later.’

There was a mumble of farewells as Gunnar walked past the man, stopping himself before he stepped out into the main street. ‘Shit. Before I forget,’ he turned back around to Juju. ‘Does Slaine know how to break old tech? Like an old Cellpad?’

‘Easily. But Slaine only does what she finds interesting.’

Gunnar fetched the old Cellpad from his bag. ‘Think she’d find a cult leader’s old Cellpad interesting?’ He grinned, feeling pretty confident.

Juju tilted his head a little bit, nodding. ‘That’d probably do it,’ he held out his hand as Gunnar passed it over, putting it safely in his jacket pocket. ‘Probably help that it might be related to Puppet.’ He turned around and threw a hand in the air, waving it lazily. Gunnar watched him go.

He stopped once again and turned around, now confused. Where was Juju going? If he followed him all the way here, did he do it without getting on the rail? The roar of an engine quickly answered his question as Juju flew by him on a Monojet, something only the wealthiest of mercenaries generally had. Nati always wanted one.

It was a one seater jet powered flying bike. Though to call it flying seemed like a bit of a stretch, it could only go so far off the ground and if you pushed it too far it may overheat all over or the engine might explode. They were risky vehicles, or the ones in a dwellers price range were.

The mercenary looked to the ground and played with his beard sheepishly. Must have been one of the benefits of working for a rich noble that sees you as more than a resource. Though, he wasn’t quite there yet. He shook his head as he headed for the far less exciting rail system.