"Welcome to Markov Sky life Service. My name is Marideth. How can I assist you?" A friendly brunette in a blue blazer greeted Grey behind a bent steel counter in an armored building just two blocks from the Markov Military Base.
Instead of windows, monitors on the wall showed footage from cameras. It was as charming as dystopian, expressing profound foreshadowing about the teen's activities and plans.
"Oh, hello, Miss. I'd like to request a sky cab to Ridgemont Heights," Greed responded with a disarming smile. "I'm visiting my wealthy uncle."
"Do you have clearance to radio in first?" Marideth inquired, her eyes narrowing. "Nobody flies into Ridgemont's airspace without prior approval, or they risk getting shot down."
"I'm surprising him," he claimed. "I'll take the sky cab as close as you can get me. Of course, I'm willing to pay the hazard premium for the service."
Marideth hesitated, her lips pursing as she fought the urge to wince. "You realize it'll cost 2,500 zecta for a single trip, right?
Grey frowned upon hearing the price. He had expected it to be expensive, but 2,500? After a long day of orchestrating scams, he had only managed to amass 3,300! Regardless, he had no choice but to agree. "Yes, please send me the request."
Marideth winced but nodded. "I wish I could offer you a discount."
-
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Markov Sky Cab Service has made you an offer:
One armored sky cab with (5) Primed Entity [PE] bodyguards to the outskirts of Ridgemont Heights. (2,000 Zecta)
Hazard premium for drop-off in a non-friendly zone. (500 Zecta)
Do you accept? [Yes/No]
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-
Grey accepted the offer, and Marideth led him to the sky cab, where five heavily armed soldiers in black tactical gear stood ready, their assault rifles at the ready.
A sky cab wasn't just a taxi: it was an omnidirectional, armored military transport aircraft called a skycruiser that shuttled people around. It had the functionality of a 20th-century helicopter but in the general shape of a jet. For a planet with advanced space travel capabilities, skycruisers were as common as cars in richer areas.
Grey boarded the skycruiser, walking past a 50-caliber turret stocked with enough ammunition to fuel a B-movie action sequence.
"The name's Valeria, but people call me Val if they don't wanna die," a woman with olive eyes and straight brown hair introduced herself. A large scorpion tattoo stretched across her chest, the design continuing down her arm and disappearing under her white tank top.
"My name's Greed." Grey replied amicably.
"What kind of name is that?" a mercenary asked after taking a swig from a serpent emblemed flask. He was a good-looking, brown-haired man with crystal-blue eyes who would make a good playboy if he weren't half-drunk, donning a 5 o'clock shadow.
"Don't bust his balls, Reaper." a bald mercenary with a gentle expression and kind brown eyes interjected. He had the build of a bodybuilder. "It's not like you're not one to talk."
"I'm not busting his balls, Mark." Reaper replied, screwing on the flask's lid, "I'm just asking because he has a shitty mercenary name. I'm a shitty mercenary, so it makes sense that I have one; he's not, so it doesn't."
"I chose the name Greed because I could," Grey smirked, answering the question.
"Heh, is that so?" the mercenary grinned. "Well, I guess we have that in common. I'll drink to that."
"Ignore that degenerate." a blonde-haired man advised. "My name is Will. I'm here for the money, and since you're paying, that's all that matters."
"It's nice to meet you," Grey smiled, turning to the last mercenary—the only one he was genuinely curious about. "My name's Greed; what's yours?"
The mercenary was a young blonde woman around his age. She had striking blue eyes and attractive features, but her unkempt, straight blonde hair and dirty, worn-out tactical gear detracted from her charm.
"Whitney," she responded shyly, her demeanor at odds with her intimidating appearance.
"Well, let's take off." Mark said, getting into the cockpit and starting the engine.
***
As Grey gazed out the open sentry side hatch at the city below, he couldn't help but notice that Markov, once a bustling metropolis, now resembled a war-torn concrete jungle. The area was frequently illuminated by the flashes of lasers, muzzle fire, and explosions from RPGs and various grenades, both plasma and conventional.
Ratatat! Ratatat!
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!
Grey winced when a hail of gunfire struck the armor of the skycruiser.
"Did you just fire at me!?" Whitney screamed with a feral look in her eye, shattering the shy persona she had five minutes prior, "Perfect timing! I needed content for my anti-war ad!"
Ratatatatatatatatat! Ratatatatat!
Without missing a beat, the blonde returned fire, mowing down the militants below with a sentry gun.
"Drop the grenade, idiot!" she shouted. "I'm using your ashes in my zen garden, so I need your body intact for the cremator! I sure as hell ain't paying extra to scoop you up and burn you in counterparts!"
Ratatatatatatatatatatat!
"Disregard her," Reaper said with a smile, noticing Grey's wide-eyed astonishment. "Blondie doesn't have a split personality; she's role-playing to overcome her confidence issues, and she's damn good at it."
"Clearly..." Grey responded, still amazed as he watched the fierce blonde silence the rifles below.
***
Following a turbulent journey, the sky cab landed in a battle-scarred area about half a mile from the base of the road leading to Ridgemont Heights.
"Thank you, everyone," Grey expressed his gratitude. "Please wait for me here for exactly three hours. If you do, I'll share a life-changing tip on my return trip."
"Sure thing, boss," Mark replied, rubbing his bald head. "We'll stick around. You're one weird kid, but that somehow gives me confidence in you. So, I'll trust my gut and wait, but if you bring any trouble back, we'll take you down on sight. Got it?"
"I got it," Grey grinned, his eyes fixed on the lavish mansions atop the hill.
…
─┈━═[World Announcement!]═━┈─
Player Greed has become the first player to find a prestigious-class location.
Location: Ridgemont Heights
Location Classification: Prestigious
City: Markov City
Country: Markov
Planet: Ryker
Their achievement has made history and will get recorded in the Myriad Record for all eternity.
Note: Prestigious-class locations are areas with great influence that are not accessible to the public. They are not necessarily well-known.
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-
Exhausted and panting at the top of the hill to Ridgemont Heights, the worn-out teen dry heaved, sweat pouring down his face. "Giving me only two stamina points was cruel!"
"Hey, you there!" a guard shouted, rushing toward him. "Identify yourself and state your business, or we'll shoot! You're lucky you're a teen, or we would've already opened fire!"
Grey raised his hands between deep breaths. "My name is Greed, and I'm here to..." he began, recounting his business in Ridgemont Heights.
"MuUaAhHaAhHaAhHaAhHaA!" Five guards exploded in hysterical laughter. It was loud and overbearing, attracting all the [right] attention.
"What is this racket!" an affluent man with gray hair and brown streaks demanded from a window, causing the guards to cease their laughter and start sweating.
Descending the stairs, he burst out of his mansion door and surveyed the scene. "Do you think this is a place for your amusement?" he snapped haughtily.
"No, sir," the head guard stammered nervously.
"Then what is it!?" the wealthy man barked.
"This boy, Mr. Sankey..." another guard explained hesitantly, "He says he'll let you chop off his head for a million zecta."