A few days later, the five members of the Hand of Styx were once more gathered in the living room, serious expressions on their faces.
"So, do we accept this proposal from the Shyv?" Tom asked everyone.
"Something about becoming soldiers doesn't sit right with me," Maya said nervously. "The Collective didn't do anything to help us when we were stuck in that hell of a lab, so why should we help them?"
"It won't really change much for us, though. We already kill for money. This just means more money and more killing," Nik replied, indifferent to the proceedings.
"I don't see a reason to decline, honestly. If the Shyv is this worried about us running around assassinating people during the war, then saying no means he'll send hit squads after us," stated Tom. "Also, if they lose this war, there'll be no more clients to pay us. Saying no just seems like an all-around loss."
"Of course, it does. I don't see why we're even discussing it," Autumn said angrily. "It's obvious that we have to say yes. Fate, what do you think?" Fate had been looking at the wall for the entire conversation, a thoughtful expression on his face. He looked over at the group, all eyes on him.
"I think we should say yes," he told them. "Not because of the money we'd get for saying yes, or the consequences if we say no. Do you remember that asshole who ran the Advanced? How he was always talking to someone on a secure channel?"
"I hated that guy. Every person that worked there was an unfeeling piece of shit, but that guy… I could tell he *enjoyed* what he did to us. What about him?" Autumn replied.
"Do you remember the name that man was always throwing around?" Fate asked the group.
"Not really." Tom scratched his head. "But he was name-dropping it at least once a day. It was something like Shriknark, or Shrinkarkarn, or some weird name like that."
"Shrkniknr," Fate said. "The name was Shrkniknr. I had forgotten too until I read it in that rebel leader's emails. The rebels were working for him."
"What's your point?" Nik asked, suddenly alert.
"Shrkniknr is a Cragost."
The group was silent for a few seconds. Then, "I say we accept." Maya looked at everyone. "If the Cragost are the ones behind the Advanced, then they need to pay for what they did to us. For what they did to Gavyn."
Everyone agreed. They had promised themselves and each other all those years ago that anything to do with the Advanced would be wiped from the face of the universe. Learning that the Cragost were behind their years of torment and torture meant they still had an obligation to fill.
*Bing*
Shyv Jeffrey Palar rubbed his eyes. It was past 11 pm, and he still had another three hours before he was able to go to sleep. The biggest drawback of being a Shyv meant being awake for eighteen hours at a time and being ready to wake up when needed. Due to this, there have been many days where the Shyv had to stay up for days at a time, tending to the Collective he ran.
Looking at his computer, he realized that he had received an email from the Hand of Styx. He opened it and proceeded to read. It simply said, "we accept." Nodding, the Shyv sent back "come by sometime tomorrow to discuss the terms of the contract."
With that, the Shyv went back to stamping papers, accepting and denying many requests from the various branches of the Collective, along with authorizing the production of weapons of war by the many weapon and starship manufacturers. It was going to be a long night.
The next day, the Hand of Styx and the Shyv hammered out the final details of the contract. The terms were as follows: 1. The Hand of Styx would go on missions the Shyv deemed "problematic," 2. The Hand of Styx would cease taking contracts from any citizen of the Shyviate Collective for the duration of the war, 3. The Shyv would pay the Hand of Styx 25,000 Shills a month, and 4. The Hand of Styx would submit themselves to military training.
There were many other small details and stipulations, but these were the most important.
Each member of Styx signed the contract, followed by the Shyv. The latter then grabbed a stamp off his desk and stamped the top left corner of a contract, imprinting on the paper the symbol of the Shyviate Collective: a black hole against a white background, with a blue star (the shape) above, below, and to each side of it. He then placed the papers in the printer on his desk, which doubled as a fax machine, and proceeded to send it to the many branches that needed copies.
With that done, the Shyv extended his hand, "I look forward to working with the five of you." The five shook his hand, and the Shyv said "Please follow Stanley here. He'll take you to General Blitgin, who will be your commanding officer when I'm busy."
One of the Honor Guards broke off from the wall, walking over to the group as they stood up. The rest of the Guard moved around to accommodate the missing person. The members of Styx followed Stanley down several floors, through many rooms, and eventually to a door with a plaque on it that said "General Blitgin." Stanley gave the group a nod and went back to the Shyv's office.
The five opened the door, entering an average-sized room mostly devoid of decoration. On the wall were a few framed certificates for military excellence, along with a handful of badges. There was also a standing desk, behind which of a very stern-faced man.
This man had several scars on his face, including a massive one over his left eye. Said eye was lacking entirely blue, even what would normally be the whites of his eye, indicating it was a cybernetic prosthetic.
'The Shyv must hold him in high regard to give him cybernetics,' thought Fate. 'And it looks like he took a grenade to the face at one point.'
The Shyviate Collective's technology was more than advanced to remove any trace of burn wounds, provided they were tended to quickly. The same was true of scars, indicating the man wanted them there. Removing scars was extraordinarily expensive, however, so that was probably why. Fate had no clue why the hospitals charged so much. He had personally witnessed the process once as part of a contract, and it was barely enough to warrant a fraction of the price.
The man, clothed in a formal military uniform adorned with badges, rank, and name, looked at the group with a face that told them he would allow no disobedience. "So, you're my new recruits, eh? I hope you're as effective as I've heard. You'll need all the skills you can get. Now, follow me. We'll perform some tests, see how good you really are."