Chapter 8: No Chance

Elmer

Chapter 8: No Chance

            Once the Foris motherfuckers were out of the building, I took off my disguise, if “disguise” is the correct word for it. Just a little background info about this disguise-gadget-thingy: this item is more of a talisman than a gadget (yes, I occasionally resort to voodoo magic in my missions. No, I don't consider this sacrilegous). The talisman contains a spirit that originally takes on the form of a multi-colored mist. This may not seem like such an amazing ability, but believe me when I say that this gadget has saved me countless times in the past (OK, maybe that was an exaggeration, but the point is, it's helped me a lot of times).

            This talisman is used mainly for infiltration-related purposes, because the spirit hidden within is so goddamn good at creating real, lifelike images of, well, many things. For instance, back in the museum, I utilized the talisman to create a very realistic illusion of yours truly for the aliens to chase. Just a few minutes ago, I used this very same talisman to shroud myself in the guise of another person. The illusions look so real, even the fucking FORIS are unable to use their technology to look past the spirit. It's THAT good (you're getting distracted again, goddammit...).

            I took the glass box out of my pocket. The Artifact piece held within emanated a blue glow every few seconds, creating a miniature lantern (some lantern. If it turns off every few seconds, I can barely see that living up to the blinding glare of the real thing. Plus, I doubt that you'll be able to call that a proper lantern unless you attach a handle to it or some shit to help you hold it like a proper light source) in the palm of my hand. I knew what it was like to hold a piece of the Tempus Artifact (with something to protect me from its exposure, that is), and it felt...weird, just like the last time I've held a container housing an Artifact piece (which was about five years ago, under pretty much the same circumstances. The only difference was that THIS time, the Artifact piece didn't drive a motherfucker insane. Or at least not yet...). Even with the help of a protective case...I mean, c'mon. How often do you use frickin' PLEXIGLAS as a material for protective casing? Honestly, I wouldn't be so surprised if it was mixed with some other element to help keep out the waves pulsating from the piece. Don't ask me; I ain't a fucking science nut.

            Anyway, the Artifact piece feels...trippy. There's really no other word for it; as I hold the glass box in my hand, images start flashing through my head. Images I recall seeing (all images lasting for about only half a second) include the Milky Way, a couple having sex, and several Gods staring at me (hold on, doesn't someone have to look at you for more than half a second for it to be considered “staring”? Just sayin'...), and the rest were either too fast for me to notice or too hazy for me to discern. After spending several seconds of shifting in and out of reality, I decided to put the box back in my pocket before I started having delusions or some shit. No wonder people who were directly exposed to the Artifact went insane. One could only imagine what would happen if the images began flashing through my head during the chase. Now THAT would be a nightmare.

            The strip club was the perfect place to hide; my spec ops suit, which would normally pass off as suspicious in most places, fits perfectly into the sultry nature of the strip club, and although the suit makes me come off as some BDSM freak, it's better than being questioned by the surrounding people (mainly the pigs). I guess that's the same reason the patrons didn't peg the Foris as suspicious when they walked in; they probably thought that the aliens were just a bunch of sadomasochists, just like yours truly. Either that or they thought that the club had hired a bunch of DJs that straight up ripped off Daft Punk's costumes (remember that Foris helmets completely cover their faces, which I actually have to admit was a pretty clever idea on their part).

            As much as I wanted to enjoy the wonders of the strip club (and the entire red light district in general, now that I think about it), I had a job to do and a deadline to fulfill. I headed for the club's sorry, cum-stained excuse of a bathroom and entered a stall in the men's section to change into civilian clothing. After spending several minutes fumbling my way out of my suit (the couple banging in the stall beside me did anything but help the process) and putting on my regular clothes, I finally barged out of the stall and took a quick peek at the mirror in front of me. I saw myself in a red t-shirt with the words “Don't Fuck With Me” written on the front and “Seriously” written on the back. I bought this shirt in a clothes store in Epidromeis, way before I became a mercenary. Back in those days, I thought that I looked badass in the shirt, and went through a phase in which I shaved my head and wore that shirt (profanity is frowned upon by the public even up to this day, which actually made the shirt even more exciting to wear) as frequently as possible. I've gone through that phase now, and I don't wear the shirt that often anymore. On the other hand, I kept the shaved head. Until today. As for the pants, they're just bog standard dark blue jeans.

            I left the bathroom (and the sex-happy couple along with it) and headed back to my apartment, which was conveniently located...in the red light district. Yeah, don't mention it. I'm a womanizer, and I wouldn't be anybody else but me. Anyway, I returned to my apartment within approximately five minutes' time. I rented this room for two days, since I planned to leave as soon as I got the Artifact piece. Once I entered my room, I threw my bag on the couch and turned on my earpiece to speak to Sachi about our little run-in with the aliens.

            Now that I mention it, it's probably worth noting that Sachi had been guiding me throughout the entire chase, telling me where to go and the how close the Foris were to knocking my ass out (how she manages to get said information is beyond me. That's one of the amazing things about her). I was forced to turn off the earpiece whilst hiding in the club, but now that I was back in my apartment, I thought that it'd be safe to speak with her once again (just say that you forgot to turn on the earpiece back at the club).

“OK, sorry I went AWOL there, Sach. Had a hard time hiding in the club,” I began.

“No prob. Did you have fun?” she replied.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you WERE at a strip club...” Oh, God no. Was THAT what she thought I was doing in the club? As much as I loved bragging about my kinky adventures, I prefer not to be accused of sexual escapades I didn't commit.

“Oh, nonono. I was just changing into civilian clothing to blend into the crowd, nothing more!” I denied fiercely.

“Yeah, yeah, don't worry. I believe you, bro. So, how did it go?” Sachi asked.

“Aside from the thousands of dollars worth of property damage and a run-in with the Foris? It went fine. And as per frickin' usual, I wasn't able to identify any of those fuckers thanks to their full-body armor. Anyway, aside from that, it went relatively well; I got the first piece,” I explained.

“That's good. Does it feel weird when you hold the case in your hand?”

“Yep, just like last time. I got these really weird pictures flashing through my noggin as I held it,”

“Well, that sure brings back memories, doesn't it? Remember how your employers went insane after you gave 'em an Artifact piece that they requested and you ended up having to hide it in some random place all over again? Speaking of which, may I ask why you do that? Is this some sort of scavenger hunt for you?” This was one of Sachi's most frequently asked questions, and I could see why.

            I had a rather...colorful history with the Tempus Artifact. Every now and then, I would receive a contract from some nutcase to go and fetch this thing, under the grounds that said nutcase was able to harness the Artifact's power for their own ends. Every time I succeeded in bringing the Artifact to my contractor, the guy ends up going insane after spending a few hours after being exposed to it. There have also been news of other mercenaries and intrepid explorers who have succeeded in pilfering the Artifact, and not a single one of them has retained their sanity after possessing the relic for a day, and that's being optimistic. Maybe that's the reason there's a voice in my head judging my decisions from time to time, I dunno. I sometimes think that prolonged exposure to the Artifact has caused a God to slip into my brain or some shit, but that theory's way too far-fetched for me to believe.

            “Nebo System to Elmer. Anyone there?” Sachi asked, probably confused as to why she received a minute's worth of pause instead of an answer from me. I decided to go the safe route.

“I don't know,” I answered curtly.

“Oh,” Sachi replied in a disappointed tone. “I don't know” is the answer I give her every time she asks me this question, which I'm gonna assume is an unsatisfactory answer (yes,that would  certainly be evidenced by her frequent asking of the same question over and over again. I'm surprised you figured that one out by yourself).

“Not today, Sach. One day, but not now. It's a sensitive subject,”

“I know, I know. I'm sorry,” Sachi apologized.

“Thank you. Anyway, I got a clue as to where the next Artifact piece is,” I said, already over the personal question she asked me just several paragraphs ago.

“Lemme guess: Plavok Moon?”

“How did you know?”

“I overheard the presenter in the museum tell the audience about rumors of an Artifact piece being held there. Before he got vaporized, I mean. You know me, I have my ways,” Sachi replied.

“Oh. So, any chance that you can hook me up with a ride there? Off-the-books, maybe? I mean, judging from my past experiences, I doubt that I'll be able to legally enter such an unexplored area without being part of some bigwig explorer group or some shit,”

“Already one step ahead of you. I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who-”

“Get to the point, Sach,”

“Fine. I've found someone to get you onto Plavok Moon. Even better, that someone will be dropping you right into all of the action. Turns out that there's a little dispute going on between the American Explorers Organization (that's “AEO” in abbreviated talk) and the Kivus Cultists happening on the moon. The Cultists have some sort of vault-shrine thingy on Plavok which they had been using to store a large majority of their loot, and one of them is a piece of the Tempus Artifact. You'll have to find a way to get past them to get to the prize,”

“Hold on a goddamn second...how the hell did fucking CULTISTS get to the moon before the Americans did? Last I checked, those nutjobs were way too obsessed with their voodoo shit to make any advancements in space exploration,” I asked, astounded by the worshippers' intellect. Maybe I had underestimated these wackos.

“Well, that remains to be seen. I've looked into it as best as I could, but I haven't found any logical explanation as to how the Cultists were Plavok Moon's first colonists. Maybe they had help, I'm not sure,”

            “Care to give me a little background info about the place before I come crashing into the place like a bumbling, clueless idiot?” I inquired, scratching my nuts as I asked the question (hey, don't blame me; these jeans are WAY more uncomfortable than they look). Hey, at least Sachi couldn't see me doing THAT...

“Sure thing. Just hold on a sec...” Sachi replied, taking a few seconds to search for info about my deadly destination (before you ask if “deadly” was really a necessary adjective for me to add, the answer is no. I just like to alliterate, that's all). “Got it. Plavok Moon is the eighth moon in the Nebo System, and is known for the overwhelmingly abnormal (wait, isn't that redundant?) amounts of psionic energy pulsing throughout the moon. Due to this reason, Plavok is rumored to be responsible for the occurences of various space-related anomalies throughout the known universe, such as the-”

“OK, OK, I get the point, it's 'mystical' or some shit. Christ, no wonder the Cultists decided to store their crap there. Are you reading all this info from some crappy brochure you found in some 'Burns and No Bull' bookstore downtown?” I interrupted, bored by the explanation. So much for background info.

“As a matter of fact, I'm reading this from Rickypedia, thank you very much. I know it's not a very trustworthy source, but it's the fastest one. Can I continue now?” Sachi explained.

“Sure, go ahead,” Rickypedia was one of the most popular internet sites for searching up info about shit in general, and some people doubted its credibility. However, it's sufficed for me as of thus far, and that means quite a lot coming from an experienced merc like me (well, SOMEONE is certainly full of himself...).

“Plavok's strange characteristics have led some to believe that the Goddess Helvia had either played some part in the moon's creation, or rather, didn't apply the law of physics to the moon (just a footnote: Helvia is the goddess of movement, and is responsible for the application of gravity, wind and all that movement-related shit into the universe. Without her, nothing would be able to move, essentially),” Sachi read. She paused briefly before reading the next section of the article, presumable to either catch her breath or scroll down to the next section (probably both).

            “According to Ringo Bachson of the American Explorers Organization, the planet seems to be populated by a group of fanatics named the 'Kivus Cultists'-”

“OK, you can skip that bit. Anything else in the article that I don't know already?”

“Nah. There's a part of the article that mentions the possible presence of an Artifact piece on the moon, but you also already know that.” Sachi responded, pausing yet again, most likely to search for a part of the article that I was unfamiliar with. “Nope. The rest of the article is still under development,”

“Either that or they haven't received enough information about Plavok Moon to make a complete article about the place,” I said.

“Maybe,” Sachi replied curtly.

“OK, that's all I need. Thanks for the info, Sach. The pilot's gonna be waiting at Da Wilson Starport, I believe?” Priroda had multiple starports, so I had to specify exactly which one I had to go to.

“Yep, I've told the pilot about you, and apparently, the dude thinks that it'll be a huge honor to be a starship pilot for such a legendary figure in the underworld,” Sachi said.

“No, seriously. What did the pilot say?” I asked, refusing to believe what the pilot had said about me. Was she being sarcastic? I couldn't tell (despite the fact that you yourself are a fan of slipping sarcasm into almost every single sentence you utter? You confuse me sometimes).

“That's what I heard, no joke. The pilot will be waiting for you at Terminal 2B. Don't worry about trying to prove yourself as the passenger; the pilot knows your face and will be able to identify you once you're in sight,”

“Very well. Thanks for everything, Sach. I'll be seeing you real soon,” I said.

“Same here. See ya, man.” Sachi said, cutting off the connection between our earpieces. I have to admit that I was a little melancholic to end the conversation (maybe it's something to do with your A-MAZING social skills. Maybe one day you'll find the one, amigo. Until then, I suggest you keep your relationship with Sachi to “just friends”. With benefits, as you already are).

            However, the melancholic feeling was quickly shaken off by a sensation of extreme exhaustion, which I'm gonna assume is due to the series of stamina-leeching activities I did today. Running your ass away from a posse of alien psychopaths has a way of expending your energy. Before I turned in, I opened my phone and texted Arjan, informing him of the successful heist and attaching a picture of the Artifact piece to the chat room. I was too tired to wait for a response (hey, even badass mercenaries have a limit to how much bullshit they can cope with per day) and headed to the bedroom, passing out on bed's musty mattress. Once I get the hell outta here, at least I'll be able to-oh, shit. This is the best lodging I'm gonna be getting within the next two days, huh (unless you consider a tent on an unexplored moon a comfortable place to live, I expect that you'll be very, very disappointed)?

            Whatever. I'll continue tomorrow; I'm in no condition to tell stories right now. See you later, amigos. I'm fucking tired.