The Elurium Professional Mercenary-Thieving Company’s main office was located in the semi-prestigious Veerak Square Towers, a collection of eight identical structures renowned for once being the tallest in the city, though modern construction had long since outstripped them. Still, they retained a classic charm and a reputation for quality which any new upstart company would be hard pressed to match, regardless of how much shinier their tower may be. 

Kas reached for his waist, only to realise he’d left his company ID band at home. Grimacing, he tapped on the glass front door and smiled sheepishly at the receptionist. Thankfully it was Bet, not the new girl who was a complete stickler for the rules. She recognised him, smiled in an insultingly perfunctory way, but buzzed him in anyway.

“Thanks. I just need to grab some things. Do you have the requisition details for today’s job?”

“Didn’t you get the relay?”

Kas shook his head. “Just give me the forms, I’ll take care of it.” He’d left his relay orb at home as well, he realised, along with whatever text data had been transmitted after his call with Ziv. Mentally cursing, he forced himself to put it out of mind. It was a bad look but there was no time to go back and get it now. He’d just have to push on.

Bet shrugged and rapped a sequence of taps on the row of orbs floating at elbow height in front of her, just above the surface of the desk. A standard administrative array, only five or so, colour-coded for convenience and security clearance. Kas wasn’t privy to the information they beamed into her head, but he did see the output; with a final tap, Bet dusted her hands together as a scroll materialised slowly out of mid-air and dropped into her waiting palm. She passed it to him.

“You’re lucky,” she said, pulling a face. “That was the last of the ink supplies, and I can’t restock them without leaving the front desk unattended. I’d head up to the armoury soon, if I were you. All the good weapons are going fast.”

“Thanks,” Kas replied absently, already unfurling the document. Elurium’s official letterhead stared back at him, followed by a neatly arranged list of the job’s time, place and participants. Sixteen people in all, including himself and Ziv. His name sat tellingly last on the list, tacked on at the bottom with ‘Supply’ appended in brackets. “And I’ll need liability waivers for everyone. I’ll pick them up on the way back.”

She reached under the desk, sorting through the stacks of scrolls for the right ones, while Kas hurried to the buoy lift. He tapped the control for the armoury and began to ascend.

Arriving at the armoury, he saw Bet had been right; most of the good weapons had been checked out already. Even the best of the best - the ones displayed in pride of place behind a deceptively fragile glass cabinet imbued with all kinds of devastating security wards - looked somewhat depleted. Ziv hadn’t been exaggerating - whatever this job was, it looked like they were bringing out the big guns. Not all of them, of course. No mercenary thieves worth their zlato would ever leave their headquarters unattended. But some. This job would likely pay a few salaries for the next several months.

A single AutoSlash™ sword remained for the taking, which he signed out immediately with a tap of the locking mechanism, registering it to his name until it was returned to its holster. It wouldn’t be long before its superior enchantments replaced the more traditional competition. There were still a few mercenary thieves who considered such things cheating, and there was a certain argument for it - there had been cases where automated enchantments had gotten stuck in endless, unwinnable loops and forced their users to abandon them, or arguments that it cheapened modern battles from feats of prowess to glorified games of stone, spell, sabre - but those voices were dying out with time. For now, the goods were still pricey enough that only the big companies could afford them.

He started for the basic armour section by default, then paused as he realised this job must have clearance for almost anything. He could try out some of the fancy stuff he’d never had the chance to touch, let alone wear. He double checked the scroll. Class B, difficulty 8. Bd8. He suddenly felt very out of his depth. He’d occasionally been along for a class C, most around difficulty 3, and once on a Cd4. If anything, Ziv had downplayed it. 

With a glance at the sandglass on the wall, he forced himself to stay calm and keep moving. He still had to get out to the warehouse for the less personal supplies, ideally with enough time to get home and change before the meeting. 

While it would have been more convenient for everything to be stored in one place, space in the Eight Towers wasn’t cheap. And the sheer quantity of recharges and patches and other relatively mundane supplies the company ran through would present a security risk if they were constantly being moved in and out. Only the most valuable and irreplaceable items were held in the armoury.

Speaking of irreplaceable… with his job’s new clearance, Kas checked out the biggest pocket storage they had, the smooth glass of its interface fitting snugly against his forearm as it adjusted itself. He tapped the activation sequence and a grid appeared in his mind, spreading out like a massive tiptile board. Each grid section contained a recessed cube into which he could drop items. The front consisted of the standard hundred for common consumables like recharge or patch, then another fifty sized for medium-large objects - such as the AutoSlash which he deposited immediately. Unlike Ziv, Kas didn’t plan to wander the city fully armed. 

Both of those were fairly standard, though the front section had additional layers he could cycle through with a thought, bringing its total slots up to a thousand.. But beyond those, as he mentally scrolled through the alternate-dimensional space, he found the storage area stretching on seemingly infinitely. There were sections large enough to fit any appliance, some big enough to fit the largest beds, then more so huge he thought you could probably set up a comfortable apartment inside. He probably had enough storage space to fit the entire tower, if it were deconstructed into appropriately-sized pieces.

“‘Scuse me,” growled an unfamiliar voice, snapping Kas out of his reverie. He blinked away the interface and glanced up to see a hugely muscled woman in tight silversteel armour, arms crossed. He was taller than her, but not by much, and he felt unreasonably intimidated as he backed out of the center of the aisle to let her by. It wasn’t until she tapped out the MasterBlade StarSpark and sheathed it across her broad back that his mind put together her appearance with the name on his list.

Darika ‘Silverheart’ Midovra, the sort of heavy fighter who could tear through anyone and anything. Classified for Ad20 missions, she only worked a few days a month and still made more than Kasimir did in a year. Not that he envied her or anything, of course. Her presence here made him feel even more out of place. No wonder they had him running supply, if they were bringing in people like the Silverheart.

Kas desperately tried to think of something casual and comradely that would make her see him as a fellow serious and valuable asset, but nothing came to mind.

“Hi,” he said feebly, his mouth strangely dry. He swallowed. “You’re coming on a Bd8?” He regretted it immediately. Stupid question.

“B teams are already booked out of the city today,” she said, strapping spiked pauldrons over her shoulders that gleamed with expensive enchantments. “Short notice, overtime pay, might be fun doing something easy for a change.”

“Right. Yeah. Same for me.”

She chuckled, not unkindly, but he felt his face heat regardless. “Yeaaah.”

“I mean, maybe not exactly the same,” he mumbled, turning away. “Nice meeting you.” 

To his surprise, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got potential, kid,” the Silverheart rumbled softly. “You’ll find your chance, and when you do, take it. No regrets, no looking back.”

Kas turned and stared as she walked away, too overwhelmed to know how to react. Then he noticed the sandglass and cursed. He’d have to run if he was going to make the 11:20 to the warehouse.

Accessories aside, armour was individually fitted - no difficult choices there. Kas raced across to the changeroom, checked out his Class C issue armour and strapped it on. No shining silversteel for him, just basic enchanted leather. He’d probably have to steer clear of being hit by spells - including, he thought with a gulp, friendly fire - but it would take a few hits from most non-magical defences. Ziv would grill him about it, but a wax was out of the question.

“Hey, your waivers!” Bet waved a coil of scrolls at him as he raced past the front desk. He found himself skidding comically to a halt, almost tripping over his own feet. The danger of having enhanced speed spelled into one’s work boots.

“That… would have been bad,” he admitted, accepting the bundle and dropping it straight into storage.

“Heading to the warehouse?” Bet queried, eyeing the interface on his arm. “Exactly how are you planning on getting in without ID?”

Kas cleared his throat, making a concerted effort to still his twitching feet. “Um. The generosity and goodwill of the staff on duty?”

“Hmm. That would be nice. I’ll relay ahead and let them know you’re coming.”

“Bet, you are definitely my favourite person in the universe right now.”

It might have been his imagination, but he thought a flush of colour might have risen up the receptionist’s cheeks. “Multiverse.”

Yes, definitely a blush. “...what? No, nevermind. Have to rush. Thanks again!”