Issue 37 – Unfriendly Shores
- Two hours later
It wasn’t going well.
“Absolutely not! We should send them packing – do you know what these assholes did? Of course you do, we watched the news feed together!”
The giant Native American in an old U.S. Army uniform was furious. Muscles bulging, he looked like he’d leap on Seagrove and Blackwood, standing in the local PMC office in front of its commander’s table, and snap their necks within a single motion of his enormous, muscled arms. He only calmed down after the reproachful glance of his commanding officer.
The commander, a professional through and through in his fifties, looked as tired as Blackwood felt. His clean-shaven face, military-style haircut and calm, measured movements told Blackwood that he was dealing here with a respected veteran.
The commander shook his head and rubbed his eyes before finally answering.
“You’ve got balls, Blackwood, I’ll give you that. But the shit you did in Africa was broadcasted over corporate feeds all over the world. Hell, it even got here, to this shithole on pirate feed. Congratulations, commander, you’re now a poster child for the ‘all mercs are homicidal assholes’ drivel,” he smiled ironically at frowning Blackwood.
“But,” he continued, “luckily for you, us fine folks here don’t believe everything that’s on television. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if the corporates did half of that shit themselves. And we’re no friends of corporations and their federal allies here.”
You’re saying you want to recruit. Fine. Don’t expect much though,” the commander shook his head, “we weren’t the only ones watching the feed. Look...”
He sighed, rubbing his eyes again.
“We won’t give you trouble if you don’t give us any, but we won’t lend you a hand you either, that would be our ass – we can’t afford to lose the support of this fine city. You can trade whatever you want with whomever you want, as long as it’s voluntary on both sides. Do I make myself clear?”
Blackwood and Seagrove both nodded, satisfied by the answer, unlike the local Lieutenant.
“But General, we can’t just... ” “That’s enough. And don’t address me that way, Wolf. We’re not in the army anymore. As for you,” he turned back towards Blackwood and Seagrove, “you have one week. Then we want you gone. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Blackwood nodded.
“The south is swarming with feds. Spend your time here wisely – and good luck with fighting through them.”
“The feds?”
“Federales, pendejo,” responded the fifth man in the room, standing silently behind the commander until that point.
“Government troops. They’re well-armed and they don’t like mercs. There’s a fragile cease-fire in place, but that’s us – no such luck for you, cabron.”
“Understood,” said Blackwood flatly, realizing that things had gotten a lot more complicated.
