Chapter 1: Introduction
The neon lights of the bar flickered like a dying moth's wings, casting eerie shadows across the worn faces of the patrons. The air was thick with the scent of cheap whiskey, stale smoke, and the faint whiff of ozone from the malfunctioning holo-projector in the corner. This was the kind of place where people came to forget, to drown their sorrows in the bottom of a glass, or to lose themselves in the fleeting comfort of someone else's body.
Brando Rek nursed his drink, the amber liquid swirling in the bottom of his glass as he stared into the abyss of his own reflection. His cybernetic eye, a cold blue orb, seemed to glare back at him from the depths, a constant reminder of the life he'd lost.
Across the bar, a holographic advertisement flickered to life, displaying a buxom, scantily clad alien in a series of provocative poses. "Want to upgrade your nights? Try Zora's Pleasure Palace!" it promised, the words scrolling across the screen in a jaunty font.
Brando snorted, taking a sip of his drink, the harsh liquid burning a path down his throat. He'd seen enough of these places to last a lifetime.
The bell above the door chimed, announcing a new arrival. Brando didn't bother to look up. He wasn't in the mood for company, not tonight. Not any night, really. His gaze remained fixed on the reflection in his glass, the neon lights dancing across his scarred face.
A shadow fell across the bar top, and Brando finally turned his head. Standing before him was a mountain of a man, towering over him by at least a foot.
How Colton every infiltrated anywhere without being noticed was beyond him. They make mechanized armor suits smaller than Colton Maverick. Must be something in the water in Iowa. Best soldier he ever fought alongside. Colton would surely say the same of Brando. He was instrumental in helping reclaim something resembling a life. Colton's face was a study in contrasts, his eyes bloodshot and weary, but there was a spark there, a wildness that only someone who'd stared death in the face could possess. His hair was cropped short, military-style, and his uniform was rumpled, the insignia of a Galactic war hero prominently displayed on his chest.
Brando raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. Colton Maverick, as I live and breathe. I was wondering why my drink shook, thought maybe John Hammond let another park exhibit loose."
"What are you going to do if you lose me, Brando. No one is going to get your esoteric movie references?" Colton jested.
Brando stood and hugged him tight, getting an audible grunt from Colt. "Jesus, that new arm doing well for you, huh?" Colt said.
"New everything is working well when it's on Ghost Company's dime." Brando joked. "Shame you guys will have to work so much harder without me."
"Maybe not." Colton put a black card on the table and signaled for a bourbon from the bar.
"That what I think it is?" Brando said before lighting a cigarette.
"Depends. Do you think it's a line of credit linked to Ghost Company's accounts?" Colton said.
"That's certainly what it looks like. Why is it being placed in front of me?" Brando said, exhaling smoke out of his nose.
"I pulled every string I had and called in no small number of favors. Pritchard buried you with honors to save his career, as a Ghost I can operate with impunity and pay handsomely. I need eyes, ears, and hands on the local scene: Recon, intel gathering, occasionally kill the right bad people. It'll keep you busy and back doing what you're good at."
"How local? You guys operate everywhere." Brando said holding the card in both hands.
"And now, brother, so do you. This ain't a way to end a life as legendary as yours. You still got a story to tell. I made sure your family got your pension and death insurance. They'll be set for life. But your life ain't over yet. So quit fucking around and get to work." He said with a slight smile.
Brando was touched. "I can equip myself how I want and operate how I see fit?"
"Impunity brother. It's the best word in the English language." He raises his glass to Brando's who touches his glass to Colton's. "To second chances," Brando said, his voice a low rumble, like distant thunder.
"Second chances," Colton echoed, before downing his drink in one swift motion. The amber liquid left a trail of fire down his throat, and he let out a satisfied grunt. "You know, I never did thank you for that business on Kaelor IV. If it weren't for you... well, let's just say I wouldn't be here today."
Brando shrugged, his cybernetic shoulder moving fluidly despite its artificial nature. "You'd have done the same if you were in my position. Any one of us would. Thank you, brother. I won't waste this." They perform their squad handshake, Brando with his cybernetic hand.
"I'm gonna get a haircut and a shave, then I'm gonna go shopping." Brando said. "Until next time, Colt." Brando said.
"I'll be in touch, but you don't answer to me. You know what you're doing. I'm just going to send you contracts and contacts. Rest is up to you." Colt.
"Copy." Brando.
Colt salutes Brando, who returns it. Brando finishes his drink and takes one last puff before scanning the card to pay the bill and making his exit.