Cyan Falling

A Mission Like No Other

It was another dreary morning in the city. The sky was grey but for the strange orange glow from the city lights reflecting off of the heavy clouds. Heavy rain pelted against the windows of Cyan's apartment block, thrashing against the glass loudly. 

Cyan lay on his bed, on top of the white covers, his head resting on his arms as he stared up at the ceiling, eyes unfocused. He wasn't really paying attention to anything, just staring, completely empty and void of thought. He knew that there was a little bit of paint flaking off of the ceiling and his ears were picking up the sound of the rain outside, but it wall all muted and faded out, like white noise.

He did that sometimes,  just sort of lost himself in a fuzziness that felt oddly akin to being stuck in a load of old TV static. Sometimes he could hear a high pitched ringing and he could never quite tell whether the sound was coming from something in the room or whether it was coming from inside his own head. He thought to himself that a bit of tinnitus was probably to be expected in someone like him, who constantly did work that involved using loud weapons. 

Occasionally, he would be lying there or even out somewhere, like a local bar or out on a job and suddenly he would be seeing everything as though he wasn't himself, like he was just watching everything play out in front of him like a movie. He didn't quite know how or why that happened to him and sometimes wondered if it was a common thing or if he was just an outlier. It was probably the latter.

Abruptly, he turned his head towards the window, watching as the rain smacked against it and drizzled down the surface, creating little streams and trails as they went, merging sometimes and picking up a little bit of momentum before dropping out of view to make way for the next lot of droplets. 

The dull, grey walls of the place added to the dim and almost monochromatic feeling that the city projected on days like these. The only splashes of colour were the orange neons coming from his gear over in the far corner of the room and the blown out lights coming from the roads and buildings and billboards that made up the city. They were all sort of blurred and wiggly at the edges from the heavy rain and the coating of mist and fog that hung everywhere. 

He needed to get out, to do something to make the time pass by faster, so that he could get out to his usual bar or down the the Bounty Hunters' Guild to look for jobs and scope out any possible clientele. It was a useful combination of a guild hall and a bar, so that people who wanted to blend in or stay in the shadows before approaching a mercenary for whatever is was they needed doing for them. 

Sometimes, they would get lucky and it would be someone high profile who would pay buckets more than the usual clients just so that they didn't have to get their hands dirty.  

Cyan used to think that is was sickening that those rich folks were the people he would have been forced to protect if he had stayed in the Space Force. As it was, he had the ability to pick and choose whoever he wanted to work for and there was nothing preventing him from turning down work from people he didn't like.

He needed a new job soon though. He still had enough money left outside of his savings to afford his rent and utilities, but he wanted to get himself some new gear and some upgrades for what he already had. At the thought of his savings, he looked over to his safe. He didn't know exactly what he was saving for. A rainy day perhaps? Or maybe he still clung to a tiny shred of hope somewhere deep within his thoroughly closed off heart that he might one day settle down with someone and need funds to buy a house and live comfortably.

He never dwelled on such thoughts for too long though. He wasn't naïve enough to think that there was someone who would be interested in a cold-blooded mercenary like him, not after knowing about all the things he had done, all of the things that he was still going to do.

It didn't help that somewhere along the way, he got himself a large scar that went all the way from his hairline all the way down his left cheek to his jawline. He was lucky that he still had the use of his left eye, but he had certainly lost the benefits of his once flawless skin. He was once rather the pretty boy, fairly handsome if he said so himself, but having a big scar down half of your face tended to be something that people found unappealing. 

He thought it gave him a bit of rugged charm, but to each their own.

It was easy work for him and he didn't see any reason to give it up when it paid so well. He had learned very well early on how to throw away any of the sappy morals that he may have once held on to. There was no room for high horses in his line of work.

Of course, he did have his own set of rules and boundaries that he never crossed, but outside of them he had no qualms taking any well-paying job that was up for grabs. The lawful good types never did well in his crowd, the ones that only went after criminals for some egotistical high from their acts of glorified vigilantism. It was best to align yourself somewhere in the middle, where neither extreme would ostracise you and clients wouldn't be put off from hiring you. It was why Cyan preferred to present himself as morally grey or ambiguous; he could play both sides, never drifting too far into one or the other.  

Cyan, in his usual getup of flexible leather-like trousers and his matching high-neck jacket, with a simple t-shirt underneath. His entire getup was form-fitting and flexible for ease of movement and stealth. He couldn't be running around with lose fabrics hanging off of him; they would only get in the way. He fastened the orange laces on his black combat boots and grabbed him moonblades, tucking them into the holsters attached to either side of his belt.

Walking to the door, he grabbed his clear plastic umbrella and got ready to use it. Placing his visor over his eyes, he turned off all the lights and left the apartment. The visor was see-through with a heavy orange tint and had built-in screens that he could use to bring up any map that he needed with little pale blue lines, sort of like a satellite navigation system without the annoying automated voice.

For a brief moment, he looked out over the surrounding buildings and apartment complexes through the heavy rain and fog. It looked kind of peaceful like that, with the sound of the rain hitting the concrete and metal drowning out the noise of the city and creating a haze over it's neon lights.

Cyan turned and headed over to the stairs, knowing that the metal cage that was a poor excuse for an elevator was always out of use and marked as 'Under Maintenance', though in all his time there, he had never once seen any maintenance actually being done.  

Once at the building's exit, he opened up his umbrella and continued down the street. He had a car and motorcycle of his own, but with the backed up traffic on the roads, he would rather walk. There weren't many people out on the paths and those that were had umbrellas not unlike his own or were huddled under canopies and ducking into convenience store entryways. 

As he walked, he let the chatter and noisy hover vehicles fade into the background as he focused on the sound of his boots against the sidewalk. It wasn't far to the guild bar and enjoyed the atmosphere of the streets. It was oddly calming, just walking on his own, surrounded by strangers, picking up bits of random conversation and blending in with the crowd. For a while, he was a part of something bigger than himself.

It was cold outside and damp, and the inside of the bar wasn't much different. It was always like that. There was a politely warm atmosphere, but the underlying knowledge that the place was full of thieves, bounty hunters, assassins and mercenaries made it feel cold at the edges. 

The automated metal door whined a little as it slid open to tuck into the wall, the hinges worn and poorly maintained. There were old posters and half scraped off stickers all over its surface, along with a fair number of mystery stains. The whole bar was covered in mystery stains though, so it wasn't really something to look twice at in there. After the first visit to the establishment, you learned not to ask too many questions about stuff like that. Curiosity killed the cat after all.

Cyan wandered up to the bar. Hopefully he would be able to pick up a job, but if not, it was always a good idea to show your face and let potential clients know of your availability. 

"Cyan! Good to see you again. What can I get for you?" The gruff barman, a broad Neronian named Bonarain asked, leaning on the bar.

"Just a glass of blue soda for me today, thanks Bonarain." Cyan replied.

"Right, probably good to have your wits about you today." Bonarain said as he took a bottle of the soda from the fridge behind the bar. "There have been some weird types nosing about. Seems like they might be looking for trouble, and not the fun kind."

"You know me, Bonnie, any type of trouble is good for me as long as it lines my pockets." Cyan teased, unscrewing the lid of his soda and taking a short swig, enjoying as the bright blue liquid fizzed along his tongue. 

"Don't call me Bonnie. How many times do I have to say it? My name's Bonarain or it's Rain for short. Do I look like a Bonnie to you?" The bartender complained, shifting to glare pointedly at Cyan as he smirked playfully.

"Aww, but I think it suits you. Makes you more approachable, you know." He said, now grinning. He really did enjoy his back-and-forth with Bonarain. He wouldn't call them friends, but they were close enough to joke around every once in a while.

"You do know where you are, right, Cyan? I'm not exactly here to look friendly." Bonarain responded, rolling his eyes as he turned away, walking to the other end of the bar to serve another customer.

With no one left to talk to, Cyan sat quietly and sipped at his blue soda, watching the interior of the bar, looking over all of the faces around the room. A few other hunters and mercenaries were browsing the noticeboard for jobs and wanted posters, while a few groups and loners sat or stood scattered around the tables and booths. a selection of shady characters sat towards the back of the room in the lowlight, out of the way of prying eyes (apart from Cyan's it would seem). They were whispering of something he couldn't hear, but that wasn't exactly bizarre for a place such as this one.

It was barely a half hour later when a strange individual entered the bar and looked around from the entrance. His gaze stopped at Cyan for a drawn out moment before he turned and sat at the opposite end of the bar. He could tell immediately that this hooded person was looking for him, or at the very least recognised him enough to grab their attention. 

So, Cyan stayed sat at the bar, keeping to himself and waiting for the unidentifiable person to make a move. The person was tall and shrouded in a long cloak that brushed against the floor, they were at least 6'5" tall and their hood obscured their face in shadow, along with a black mask that covered the rest that the hood couldn't reach.

The mysterious person kept glancing over at Cyan, he could tell despite their face being covered, by the way they twitched in his direction every once in a while. Cyan kept them in his peripherals, wondering when they would decide to make their way over to him and say whatever it was that they wanted to say.

Just as he was about to take charge and approach them himself, they stood and approached him, finally. They had a strange aura around them, something that made him a little uncomfortable, but incredibly curious at the same time. He had a feeling that they would certainly have something interesting to say.

"Are you the mercenary known as Cyan?" The person said, revealing that they were using a voice modifier. It was impossible to tell much about them while they chose to use one of those things. Clearly, whoever this person was, they wanted to remain anonymous.

"The one and only." He replied. "What can I do for you?"

"I wish to inquire about your availability for a job." The person said.

"Well, if I weren't available then I wouldn't be here. What's the job?" He asked, finishing the last of his blue soda in one go before placing it back onto the bar.

"It's a little complicated. I need someone of a specific skillset to take it on, You see, I'm hunting someone rather high up in the chain of command in the underground, someone powerful. It won't be easy work, but it has to be you who does it. I need them killed and I need it done as fast as possible." The stranger explained and Cyan frowned lightly.

"How high up are we talking?" He asked.

"Belvarrian Callus." They replied darkly, as though the name alone were a scorn. 

"You want me to get rid of Belvarrian Callus? That's no easy feat. I hope you have the funds for such a request." Cyan responded, a serious look falling over his features.

"A hundred-thousand jehn. Only when the job is done." They said.

"You've got yourself a deal. I'll need the contract and whatever information you have." Cyan agreed. Usually he would demand half of his payment up front, but a hundred-thousand jehn was enough money to get him a mansion on any high-end planet and city of his choosing. Half the amount was enough that he'd never have to work another day in his life if he didn't want to. It was the equivalent of around ten million pounds back on Earth, before it was destroyed.

"Here." They said, handing him an electronic bracelet. "The information is all in there, including the coordinates for where Callus should be tonight." 

"Before I leave...who exactly are you? I like to know who I'm working for. What's your aim here?" Cyan asked, strapping the bracelet to his wrist and syncing it with his visor, watching as the information popped up in his vision. 

"You will know eventually. All in due time. But for now, knowing my identity would only hinder this operation." They replied cryptically.

Normally, this would have Cyan questioning his agreement, but this person was offering him a lot of money to take out someone who was a very bad person. All in all, it seemed like a pretty good deal. Though, he wouldn't be fully placing his trust in a perfect stranger any time soon. He had questions that he wanted answers to and he was willing to wait to find out.

"Fine. You like being mysterious, I get it. There's a certain amount of security in being anonymous. I'll find out who you are eventually though, right after I find this guy and bring him to a timely end." Cyan promised, getting up from his seat.

"I would expect nothing less from a man of your reputation." The person said, turning back to the bar. "You can contact me through the bracelet when the job is done."

After that, the person, whoever they were, went off and vanished from the bar. That whole conversation had left Cyan with far more questions than answers, but it had also left him with a job to do. The target in question was a difficult man to track. He was known for being quick to get away and had never once been caught, the police never being able to find enough evidence to implicate him despite the fact that he had been seen by many witnesses over the years. There was always some kind of lead, but no conclusive trail to follow back to him. He was good at covering his tracks and using his henchmen to take the fall.

Cyan got the location up on his visor. It would take him a good few hours to get there from where he was. It was a high-end lounge, known for two things: being a hot spot for rich socialites and being a hot spot for criminal activity. It was where people with too much money went to get their fix. The police could never hope to take down an operation in a place like that, not without having to deal with all those rich people using daddy's trust fund to pay people off so they would look the other way. After all, crimes weren't really crimes for the super rich, they were just expensive. 

With nothing left to do but get going, Cyan took the walk back to his garage, where he kept his bike and car and took the bike. It was still raining outside, but with the bike he could weave through the traffic and make better time. 

This job was going to get messy. He would have to be fast and deadly if he wanted to take this guy out. He didn't know where his mysterious commissioner got his information from, but he was sure it would have been near impossible for him to have tracked the mob boss down on his own. He had skills in tracking and finding people, sure, but Callus was the most evasive man he'd ever known of. No one even really knew what species he was. 

He most likely wasn't a human, that was certain, but there were a plethora of things that he could have been judging by the amount of territories that he had control over. He had bases and connections throughout several different star systems and there was speculation in the community that he may even have links to other dimensions. 

It was just a theory, but it was one that had grounds to be believable. If anyone could set up an operation using dimension portal hopping, it was Belvarrian Callus. He would certainly have the resources. 

Cyan got on the road as soon as he could, driving carefully but quickly through the traffic, towards his destination. He usually didn't enjoy riding his bike in the rain, especially not with the wet roads. His car was a hover model, but his bike wasn't, though it did have some anti-grav capabilities. It would come in handy should he need to make chase.

First, he would make a quick pit stop at Helena's Arms for some gear and weaponry. There would undoubtedly be some things that he would need for his mission and he trusted her judgment on what those things would be. No one knew more about weaponry than she did. It made Cyan glad that he was on her good side, because he certainly wouldn't want t be on the bad one.

She didn't just know how to forge and construct the system's best weaponry, she knew how to use every single one of them. 

If anyone could help him take down Belvarrian Callus it was Helena.

When he arrived, she was in her full blacksmith's getup. She had on her armoured breastplate, leather gloves and welding mask as she blasted one of her latest designs in the furnace in front of her. She was really a picture with her long white hair pulled back out of her face, patches of soot smeared across her toned biceps, blue eyes that were almost luminous in the embers of the fire. It was a gift to watch her work.

"Come for some new gear, Cy?" She asked. pulling a sword from the flames and pulling up her mask with a grin.

"What else? There's no one better for weapons than you." He replied, leaning against one of her workbenches. 

"Of course! What's the mission this time?" She asked, dipping the hot sword into a large bucket of water, sending steam cascading up into the air around her in plumes. "Got someone to track? Someone to snipe? Chop into pieces?" 

"A bit of all the above really. I've been hired to go after Belvarrian Callus, there's a big pay cheque in it and I get to take out a big bad. I figure it might be worth the risk." Cyan replied.

"Bloody hell, Cy! You're going after Callus? You've finally gone mad, I see." Helena laughed in disbelief, whacking the sword into shape a few times. It seemed that she was just finishing up.

"I know, I know, but I'm serious. I need to get to the Kratos lounge on the other side of the city for a chance to catch him tonight. I need to know what would be best to take for the hit." Cyan said. 

"Hmm, well, I don't think there's anything much better than those moonblades, but I have some small blades and a couple of long-range pistols that might be perfect for this. I'll fit the knives to your biceps and the guns... I think have some holsters in the back that I can fit to you real quick. Hold on." Helena suggested and before Cyan could reply, she was  already disappearing into the back of the shop.

When she returned, she fitted everything to Cyan's suit. It used to be a little bit weird when she fitted things like that. He would just stand there in what was practically a T-pose while she fastened buckles and made adjustments. Now, he was used to it, it was run of the mill to him. He trusted her and knew that she knew the best way to do things. She would make sure all of his gear fit perfectly, no risk of slip-ups or loose bits tripping him up while he's working.

With everything fixed, Helena patted Cyan on his shoulder.

"I can't believe you're really going after Callus. How much is this dude paying you to do something this insane?" She asked.

"Enough that I can do whatever I want after this job is done." Cyan replied. 

"Just come back alive, okay? You're not just my best customer, you're my friend." Helena said, stepping back.

"I know... I know... I know it's dangerous, but dangerous comes with the job. Not just this one, but being a mercenary in general, and having been in the USF. I know what I'm doing." He answered with a melancholic half smile. 

"Alright, Cy, just... be careful, okay?" Helena said with a sigh.

"No promises Helena, you know me." Cyan smirked a little.

"Yeah, I do... Alright, get outta here, Cyan. Don't worry about the guns, or the blades. Consider them a gift. Now go... you have a date with a crime boss that you don't want to miss." Helena shook her head lightly and nodded her head towards the door.

With that and not a word more, Cyan backed up and left. He wouldn't have known what to say even if he had tried to speak up. Saying goodbye felt too final and saying he would see her later felt like it might be a lie. So, he stayed silent, he went out to his bike and he started it back up, the rumble of the engine vibrating through his body as he pulled away, nerves alive with the adrenalin building in his system, from what he knew he was about to face.

He had never attempted a job so big before, so daunting, but he didn't have the time to wait around until he was ready. He wanted that money and he wanted to get rid of Callus just as much. He would be doing the world a favour by getting rid of him. Maybe, just maybe, this would be his last job. Either he would get this done or he would die somewhere along the way, there was no way to predict which one would come to pass.

All that there was left to do was follow through and find out. So, he drove down and through the circuits of streets with resolve.

To the Kratos lounge.