Chapter 1: Introduction
The ruins of a once thriving city know lay in ruin as natures raps it’s tenticals around the concert structures once inhabited by society now lush and green but also full of danger and a sense of unease that permeated every alley way corner and intersection. Jager's boots crunched against the layers of debris and rubble strewn across the streets. His eyes scanned the environs, a hand resting on the grips of his suppressed M-16A1.
The oppressive silence clung to the air, broken only by the distant sound of engines gunning in the distance. The remnants of the desolate city stretched onwards, a maze of crumbling buildings, fallen monuments, and twisted metal.
The vegetation had taken over, growing wildly and reclaiming what once belonged to it. The air was thick with the scent of decay, a bitter reminder of the civilization that once thrived here.
As Jager navigated through the ruins, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. There were stories that lingered in the air about this place, tales of monsters and demons that roamed the streets at night. Most dismissed them as mere superstitions, tales told to scare children. But Jager had heard too many first-hand accounts from other mercenaries, stories that couldn't be easily dismissed.
He'd seen enough to know that the world had changed, and the old rules no longer applied. In this new world, you couldn't afford to be complacent or dismissive of the unknown.
Jager made his way towards a metal building out side of the ruin city the Kato Mercenary headquarters. It stood out like a sore thumb against the backdrop of the woods
, made entirely from steel and concrete. Its windows were covered with blacked-half bolted or welded sheet metal or wooded planks, and the entrance was guarded by two heavily armed mercenaries. “Tadchankas” he heard from what other mercenaries called the two guards armed with PKM beltfed machine guns, no one knew who they were but they were always at the entrance of the guild guarding it like statues and they wore two soviet style helmets that had face metal shields that hid their identity’s , making them look more mysterious and imposing. As if their 6’4” hight wasn’t terrifying enough .
Jager gave a curt nod to the guards as he entered. The headquarters hummed with activity. Mercenaries of all shapes and sizes sat around, cleaning their weapons, talking, or milling about eating fresh hot meals. The kato guild was one of many places that had fresh food water and beds to sleep on in the east lands but it was only for guild members only if you weren't a member you didn't even get close and if you were lucky enough to get near you weren't leaving anytime soon.
Some of the mercenary’s eyed jager as he walked by, whispering between thmesleves but Jager didn't care he was used to that, They all were always watching each other, Some of the newbies look up at him with reverence in their eyes, They had heard stories of him he was a well-known mercenary, most of the Kato guild admired his skills and respected his past achievements
.
He made his way to the back of the headquarters, where a thick metal door led to Serge's office. Serge was the owner of the building, and the man who ran the Kato mercenary guild with an iron fist. He was a tall, thin man with a sharp nose and even sharper eyes. He was always dressed in a crisp suit, a stark contrast to the rugged clothing of the mercenaries.
"Jager," Serge said, looking up as Jager entered the office. "I've been expecting you. Have a seat."
Jager sat down in the chair across from Serge's desk.
The room was sparsely furnished, with only a few metal filing cabinets and a large map of the ruins pinned to the wall. The map was littered with red and blue pins, marking out territories and safe houses.
Serge's gaze lingered on Jager, his eyes calculating. "I have a job for you," he said, his voice dry and businesslike. "A new client. He's paying top dollar."
Jager raised an eyebrow. "Top dollar, huh? What's the catch?"
Serge chuckled, a sound that sent a chill down Jager's spine. "No catch, just a simple retrieval. Artifact, highly valuable, highly sought after. Your client wants it, and he's willing to pay for your services."
Jager leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.