Just like every other day, it was a cold and snowy one in Smith's Rest. The teeming hundreds of over-worked, underfed, and under-educated people that were in the town, were working on various things. A few of the towns' maintainers, were salting the freezing roads to make them somewhat safer to drive around on. Of course, salt, just like everything else, was expensive these days. The very sparse foliage surrounding the independent township was also being discarded, to be bargained with on the slowly developing inter-settlement market. Wood was also expensive. The only reason they weren't using it directly was that they simply couldn't maintain them anyway.
One thing that was expensive these days, but beneficially so, were mercenary contracts. It was quite obvious to everyone, in the entire world even, that the Corporations are days away from beginning to war with one another. To seize the opportunity, many mercenaries began to sprung up. Obviously, each Ruling Company would pay big, big money for any advantage. Additional soldiers, such as mercenaries, would be a major boon, especially for 'black operations'. It would be totally doable for one Ruling Company to hire mercenaries to attack another Ruling Company while pretending to be on a third ones' payroll. Of course, many other benefits existed.
In any case, a lone military truck, mounted with a snow-plow, was rolling through Smiths' Rest. Seven individuals total were inside. Two in the front drivers' compartment, and five in the back, sitting quietly. The window connecting the two, audibly, anyway, suddenly flipped open. The passenger inside, a woman with sunglasses, glanced aside towards the people inside. "What a ragtag bunch of misfits, huh? So what are all your stories exactly?". The people there were trained in the arts of NC's. Not very well, but it was something. It took a few months, very short by most serious NC users' standards, but they knew the ropes.
The training was difficult, but it had to be to make up for its' short timeframe. "Well, to be fair, I'll tell mine first. Hell, both of ours. Me and Slinky over there-", the driver quickly looked back, a nice looking fellow. He waved, and if anyone was being particularly attentive, they might notice one of his fingers was a decent prosthetic. A bit off-tone, but it actually moved alongside the rest of his fingers properly. "-Used to be a part of Denver-Vegas, actually. After an OP that went way too bad, we decided to go AWOL. Wound up here. Been itching to ferry NC's again ever since. Hahhahah. Slinky doesn't talk much, but he's nice."
"So yeah, where you folks from? If you care to tell, of course. It's a long drive, might as well keep us occupied. Rednecked facility had to be remote for safety concerns. Y'know, what if ammo accident? Don't want an NC grade missile blowing up in the middle of a residential area."
It likely was going to be a bit of a long drive. Really, might as well talk for a bit.
One thing that was expensive these days, but beneficially so, were mercenary contracts. It was quite obvious to everyone, in the entire world even, that the Corporations are days away from beginning to war with one another. To seize the opportunity, many mercenaries began to sprung up. Obviously, each Ruling Company would pay big, big money for any advantage. Additional soldiers, such as mercenaries, would be a major boon, especially for 'black operations'. It would be totally doable for one Ruling Company to hire mercenaries to attack another Ruling Company while pretending to be on a third ones' payroll. Of course, many other benefits existed.
In any case, a lone military truck, mounted with a snow-plow, was rolling through Smiths' Rest. Seven individuals total were inside. Two in the front drivers' compartment, and five in the back, sitting quietly. The window connecting the two, audibly, anyway, suddenly flipped open. The passenger inside, a woman with sunglasses, glanced aside towards the people inside. "What a ragtag bunch of misfits, huh? So what are all your stories exactly?". The people there were trained in the arts of NC's. Not very well, but it was something. It took a few months, very short by most serious NC users' standards, but they knew the ropes.
The training was difficult, but it had to be to make up for its' short timeframe. "Well, to be fair, I'll tell mine first. Hell, both of ours. Me and Slinky over there-", the driver quickly looked back, a nice looking fellow. He waved, and if anyone was being particularly attentive, they might notice one of his fingers was a decent prosthetic. A bit off-tone, but it actually moved alongside the rest of his fingers properly. "-Used to be a part of Denver-Vegas, actually. After an OP that went way too bad, we decided to go AWOL. Wound up here. Been itching to ferry NC's again ever since. Hahhahah. Slinky doesn't talk much, but he's nice."
"So yeah, where you folks from? If you care to tell, of course. It's a long drive, might as well keep us occupied. Rednecked facility had to be remote for safety concerns. Y'know, what if ammo accident? Don't want an NC grade missile blowing up in the middle of a residential area."
It likely was going to be a bit of a long drive. Really, might as well talk for a bit.
