The advertisement read:
Standing vulnerable amidst what seemed like hundreds of Vampires, I had to laugh outloud, remembering the words on the poster. Now that poster was thousands of miles to the north, in the Chi-Town 'Burbs, where the people were safe to continue with their pathetic lives. There I was, in the smouldering heat of Mexico, half-naked, with my mega-damage weapons completely useless against an enemy I had never before fought against. Thank God Job was behind me, standing his ground like a rock, the only dependable mercenary I have ever known. So there we stood, armed only with the wooden stakes they had equipped us with weeks before, the quivering, dying bodies of our companions covered the ground around us. None of us had been properly equipped for this mission, most of the 50 adventurers had died fighting their first Vampire opponent.
It seemed as though we were both an enigma to the Vampires; they did not know how to fight us, Job being about 90% metal components and myself being just as immortal as them. So they circled us, moving ever-closer with each step, Job and I thinking that this could be check-out time for us both. Dawn was only a few long hours away.
"They're moving in fast", Job whispered between clenched teeth.
"Fuck this, Job, I can't wait any longer", I said, pulling a wooden stake out from under my belt. "What doesn't kill us, only makes us stronger, right?"
"I'll shoot you if they start the slow-bite", was his cold reply.
We both took a step away from each other, signalling to the Vampires our willingness to fight. The impatient ones came at us first in a lunge of clawing hands, glowing eyes and fang-like teeth. They were disgusting, repulsive creatures and I feared them right down to my very soul. I brutally pistol-whipped the first one that touched me, but even with his decaying skull half-smashed in and his liquidized brain spilling to the ground, he continued his attack. Again I hit him in the face, full-force with my pistol, this time knocking him to the ground. A deafening cry escaped from his grey lips as he struggled to stand. I savagely kicked him down again, hearing the crunching sound of broken bone as my boot conected with his jaw. Still he fought to get up, spitting his rotten, black blood at me with intense hatred. He screamed demonically and, with surprising speed, pounced at me, grabbed my arms and sought my neck. For a split second we were locked in hand-to-hand combat, never before had my instinct to metamorphosize been so strong, it was almost uncontrollable.
"Die, bitchhhhh...", the creature hissed almost incoherantly as his grip fastened around my wrist and arm, seeking to disarm me of my wooden stake.
The Vampire's strength was frighteningly supernatural and it overwhelmed me. As I fell roughly to the ground I could hear the familiar sounds of Job's rail-gun, with its silver flachette rounds, taking its toll on our hideous enemies. So close was the Vampire's face to mine that I could smell on his foul breath the blood of my unfortunate companions. At the smell of their blood I could not stop my natural instincts. I could feel the familiar change that was taking over my body. I felt no pain, only a superior god-like sensation as my muscles and bones altered and my fangs and claws grew to surpass the size of my enemy's. My transformation stopped and I lay beneath the Vampire in the form of half-woman, half-tiger, my natural form. The adrenaline rushed through my veins and I easily tossed the Vampire aside. Only after I had stabbed his chest to a bloody pulp with the stake did he cease to squirm.
I have no recollection of what passed between the death of that first Vampire and the welcoming rays of the morning sun. Job tells me about a massacre, which we both survived, covered in the congealed, black blood of many Vampires.
-From the diary of Major Kitty Winter, Mercenary, 107 PA.
"Please forgive my shortcomings..."
I remember the night I killed my first Coalition soldier. The memory isn't too clear; so much has happened since then. I do recall an instantaneous bar-fight, of which I've had many, that left the place a bloody mess and put me on the run. Escaping the bar was relatively easy since, to put it bluntly, everyone was dead. It was dusk, on the horizon I could already see the flashing lights of the first Coalition platoon and hear the subsonic scream of the hovering SAMAS. I was an obvious target: what was left of my clothing was in burnt tatters from the energy blasts and I was covered in blood that was not my own. I ran like a criminal towards the shelter of the 'Burbs. Countless alley-ways created a maze in which I assumed I could find adequate shelter. In my youth and inexperience I was careless, running into an alley without an exit. I cursed my stupidity, cowered in the shadowy corner and checked my one remaining E-clip, only to see that it was empty. I tossed it to the ground with a sneer. That was when the lowly private, on his regular foot patrol, stumbled across me.
I knew that he feared me instantly. Pardon the cliche, but I could smell his fear. That fear only intensified as he watched with terror while the woman in front of him gradually assumed a more deadly form. All of my senses became so much more acute, from 50 feet away I could smell the distinct smell of urine as that private stood, frozen, unable to fire his weapon and unable to run for his life. This man doesn't have to die tonight, my sensible human brain thought...But the tiger knew who the victim was, knew who would die in that alley that night, knew how easy it would be, knew how great it would feel. With a pounce and a swipe of my claws, his neck was broken. I don't think he knew what hit him. That soldier was the proverbial lamb and I was the proverbial slaughter.
I can instantly recollect my thoughts as I hurriedly scrambled to put that grunt's body armour on; looking down at that private's bloodied, mangled corpse, I realized that killing a Coalition soldier was no different than killing anyone else. So I killed without remorse, just as I have done countless times before and after. That grunt's body armour saved my life that night, allowing me to pass through check-points and escape Chi-Town like a bandit.
-From the diary of Major Kitty Winter, Mercenary, 107 PA.
"Please forgive my shortcomings..."
The first time I met Russell Farrady was when he walked into a room full of potential mercenaries, myself being among them. Most were societal scum, rejects from the Coalition boot-camps or slags who had nothing to lose. I was just an adventurer looking for a new calling in life, looking for a little action or a new hobby at least. Farrady sized us all up individually, eying our weapons and armour. Then he stood in the center of the room, arms folded, assuming a respectable stance.
"You are all so pathetic, so useless to me and my organization", he spoke menacingly. "Which one of you ladies wants to fight?"
He had this commanding gaze that I suppose scared off a lot of the men. He was unarmed, or so it seemed, a medium-sized man, unaugmented and I sensed no psionic emanations. Before I had time to assess this he had already put three men to the floor, without breaking a sweat. Then his eyes fell on me. He looked me up and down coldly, a sardonic smile forming on his lips. With a flick of his hand he motioned me to come forward, which I did without hesitation.
"Well, what have we here?", he asked sarcastically. "What is your name, miss?"
"Kitty Winter", I answered without emotion.
He walked around me, inspecting every inch of my body.
"Tell me, what services can you render to my organization?"
As he said this, pausing between each word, I could feel his fingers touching my hair and moving downwards along my neck. Behind me I heard the lewd suggestions of the whispering men, but I did not back down. I could feel his hot breath and my body became tense. When I felt his hand on my breast, I snapped. Before he could recover from the shock of the first punch, I had kneed him in the crotch and kicked him to the ground. By the time he stood up I was already finished my transformation.
He did not seem surprised to see a tiger in the place of the woman he was just fondling. The first swipe of my claws missed and gave Farrady the chance to kick me viciously on the side of my head. I roared and pounced at him, knocking him painfully to the floor under the force of 15 feet worth of tiger. As fast as a bullet he held a silver knife to my gut. It caught my attention pretty damn quick, I can tell you that. My teeth were inches away from his sweaty throat and I was growling like a fiend. I felt that blade almost before it even broke the skin, before Farrady had even slashed me and it hurt for weeks afterwards.
"It is very dangerous to underestimate your opponent, Miss Winter", he whispered. "You're no merc, but maybe I'll hire you on as our whore. Now stop bleeding all over me, bitch."
I can still feel the pain, so intense it was almost maddening. I had let a human best me, which has not happened since. I rolled off of him, my urge to fight completely taken over by the pain. The cut was deep, but I survived. I sought solace in a corner, licked my wound and nursed my injured pride. Moments later a uniforn was tossed down beside me. I looked up into the eyes of Farrady.
"Welcome to the game, Miss Winter", he said.
-From the diary of Major Kitty Winter, Mercenary, 107 PA.
"Please forgive my shortcomings..."
"Two high-class slags to see you", he said, pointing to the two men standing in the doorway.
"Now Job, be nice", I replied. "We wouldn't want to create the wrong impression, would we? Send over another round, looks like this might hurt a bit."
The two men slowly walked towards me. I could smell Coalition even before they had the chance to introduce themselves. This was S.O.P.. The Coalition made it a habit to pester suspected mercs and used obvious ploys to expose organizations too stupid to know the procedure. This should be interesting, I thought to myself.
"You Kitty Winter?", the first man inquired while his companion eyed me, perhaps sizing me up as competition.
"Have a seat, gentlemen, and call me Major."
They seemed nervous as they sat down. Their actions were hesitant and very amateur. Curious as to their intentions, I continued the conversation. I was partly amused by the courage of these two men. Their attempt at small talk was laughable but as the conversation continued I began to feel a little uneasy. Job watched and listened in silence.
"You come very highly recommended", the second man said flatly. I didn't like this situation and I could plainly see that Job didn't like it either. He raised his railgun slowly but deliberately, revealing to me his thoughts on the business at hand.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, gentlemen." I paused to take a drink, allowing myself a moment to think things through. The men did not for a second take their eyes off of me. I hated this, feeling like a criminal in my favourite bar. "State your business", I said with contempt.
"We would like to hire you to rid us of a certain individual. Once the job is done, we will, of course, pay you handsomely."
I knew that acceptance of this offer would cause considerable difficulties for both Job and myself, being the only known mercs in the bar. If we were to get busted on this our future in the Coalition territory would be a very unpleasant one. Either that or the Shit Pit would soon be experiencing a considerable amount of redecorating courtesy of several energy weapons. I relaxed, sat back calmly in my chair and smiled at the two men.
"So, have you printed the Wanted posters yet?", I asked them with a sarcastic grin. They tensed up and tried to look innocent, but they both knew that their plan had backfired. For a moment no one moved, spoke or even breathed. I anticipated their next move and watched as they both made that all too familiar motion to draw their weapons.
"Weapons on the table, NOW!", I shouted. The entire bar fell silent and still. I knew that Job needed no command from me, but I wanted to give these men a chance to make the right decision to save themselves. They only sneered at me with hatred and pointed their guns at my chest. I would make them hate me even more before the day was through. They wouldn't be making any money tonight because I wasn't ready to let them collect the bounty.
"Tsk, tsk! Ignoring proper business etiquette tonight, aren't we, gentlemen? Guns on the table and don't make me have to repeat myself again."
They looked at each other, sized up the situation, sighed and tossed their guns on the table. I gulped down the rest of my drink and stood up.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got an organization to run in a world that has no organization." Saying that, I walked out of the bar, leaving the rest of the unfinished business to Job. He knew what to do.
-from the diary of Major Kitty Winter, Mercenary, 107 PA.
"Please forgive my shortcomings..."
The night Doc checked out was one of the worst nights of my life. I watched him die after the Coalition flushed us like vermin from our camp. There was nothing I could have done so I can't let myself feel guilty. I was under orders and so was he. We had no choice but to leave him behind, bleeding silently to death on the forest floor like some hunted animal. Earlier that day we thought we had made it clear, free and easy, safe from all possible attacks and pleasantly lost somewhere in the uncharted forests of Coalition territory. I should have known better. Our camp was all set up, the fire was warm and the food was edible. I had let the men get a little too comfortable. I was finishing up my meal and the next thing I knew I had my sargeant screaming something about mechanized patrols certain death.
"We're gonna die, aren't we, Major?", he whispered. I could hear the energy blasts echoing in my ears already. In seconds I realized we were surrounded.
"We certainly aren't going to live, Sargeant.", I replied. "It's either going to be death or capture, take your pick. Neither one is life if you ask me."
We held our own long enough to reduce their numbers. Sometime in those first confusing moments, Doc was hit. I heard him scream but I was too busy too take much notice. All I could do was just keep squeezing the trigger and hope that my ammo would last long enough to get me out alive. The dark night was both a blessing and a curse. The shadows hid most of us until the 'borgs came within range. Their infrared optic systems didn't miss out on a single target. When battles get this bad the men have strict orders just to get out alive. Eventually I just couldn't hear the screams anymore.
In all the confusion I stumbled across Doc. I dropped my gear, abandoned my weapons and metamorphosized. It was all I could do. I still don't know how we made it, but with his leg between my teeth I managed to drag Doc's battered body out of that mess to safety. He was barely alive and I knew that I could do nothing for him. This was supposed to be a routine training mission. Doc shouldn't of been there. I watched him die, I heard the rattle but I didn't shed a tear. This was a mercenary's life. That morning us survivors buried him and the others the only way we knew how. I spread his ashes the moment we were safely across the border and out of Coalition territory.
-From the diary of Major Kitty Winter, Mercenary, 107 PA.
"Please forgive my shortcomings..."
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