Down there, beneath the neon haze of the city, the Iron Pit was a huge underground bar - a maze of dark corners and rough faces. It was where Neo-ilka's mercenaries came to drink, make deals, and boast of conquests. In this subterranean world, only the toughest survived, and no one walked in armed or unprepared.
Zypher entered, his eyes scanning the faces in the dimly lit crowd for one person—a mercenary known as Orion. Legends whispered of Orion's past battles—the corporations that he had faced down and sent flying, and a squadron of their mechanical enforcers, which he had carved out from between his ribs and their thunderous insistence on being dead. He was infamous not just for his skill but for his particular vendetta against the gods, something that piqued Zypher's curiosity. There was only one man who stood a chance of standing up to the corporations forces and their cybernetic abominations: Orion.
But a merc with a grudge was going to be a very, very bad friend.
The bartender eyed him warily as he walked up to the bar. "In for a beating?" he growled.
Zypher shook his head. "I'm looking for Orion.".
The barkeeper grunted, nodded toward a booth in the far corner. "He's there if he doesn't shoot you first,"
The booth was dark, save for the neon sign flickering outside to cast a glow on a large figure sitting alone. Orion was a mountain of a man in worn armor and bristling with weaponry. Scars covered his face; battles had been fought too many times, and his gaze was as hard as the steel plating that crossed his chest. A faint red glow emanated from his cybernetic eye, which darted toward Zypher as he approached.
"Who the hell are you?" Orion's voice was low, but there was a deadly edge to it.
"Zypher Nyx," he said calmly, not moving away but staying out of reach. "I require a mercenary with your skills and… attitude."
Orion sneered, his eyes cold and untrusting. "And why would I do business with some kid who thinks he can waltz into the Iron Pit and hire me?"
Zypher didn't flinch, his set resolute will locking onto Orion's. "Because I'm not just another job. I'm on a mission that could bring down the corporations and give this city back to its people. You're the best there is at what you do, and I need that if I'm going to stand a chance."
The mercenary's eyebrow climbed, a slightly amused tilt of his head. "And why would I care about this city or its people? Because I know what you lost," Zypher said quietly, yet every word was a knife. "The gods turned their back on you once, didn't they? Left you to die while they watched from Olympus. And now, you've made it your life's work to make them pay for it.".
Orion's eyes narrowed, the briefest flicker of pain crossing his face. This was the calculated risk in mentioning all those rumors he'd heard-but he had expected that impulse of anger, that buried grief, in Orion. The mercenary did not just hate the gods; he hated them for something deeply personal.
After a strained moment of silence, Orion grunted. A humorless laugh escaped him. "Well, aren't you the clever one?" he said. "Revenge isn't cheap, kid. What's in it for me if I take on this 'mission' of yours?
I'm giving you a chance to go for the gods, to belong to something much greater than just revenge, Zypher said. "This city teeters on the very edge and together we can accomplish so much more than just scratch at the hands of the gods' sycophants. We can bring the whole goddamned system to its bloody knees."
Orion's face was unreadable, his fingers beating a bored rhythm on the hilt of his blade. He seemed to be weighing up Zypher's words; and Zypher wondered for a moment whether he'd overplayed his hand.
And finally, Orion leaned forward, his voice a dangerous whisper. "You really think you can take down the corporations? They're like weeds - they just keep coming back. But I'll admit, I would love to see them burn." His eyes narrowed, and the hatred there was almost palpable. "And I'd love to see those gods suffer for what they've done.".
Zypher nodded, knowing well the taste of hatred. "I can't promise a win," he said, "but I can promise a fight worth fighting for. And if we succeed, you'll get your revenge-not just on the corporations, but on the gods themselves.".
Orion was silent for a long moment, his eyes fixed on Zypher's. Then, offering him a grim smile, he extended a hard calloused hand. "You've got yourself a mercenary, kid, but remember, if you cross me you'll wish you hadn't.".
Zypher took his hand, feeling the weight of the mercenary's oath settling between them. "If we're going to do this then I need to know I can trust you. And you need to know what you're getting into."
Orion grinned broadly, his hand tightening around mine. "Trust? Big ask. But you'll get my loyalty-for as long as this mission is worth my time. And trust me, kid, you don't want to know what happens when it isn't.".
With that, the deal was set in motion. Zypher had found his first true ally in the war to come, though he knew better than to think of Orion as a friend. The mercenary was driven by some dark purpose, and Zypher would have to watch his back every step of the way.
They left the Iron Pit, together, into the neon streets of Neo-ilka city, pulsating alive and full of danger. There was another walk step beside him, heavy and unpleasant and reminding him of the fight he was about to undertake. They would face corporations, gods, or whatever monsters stood in their way. But now, Zypher was not alone. He had the mercenary's oath —and in this city, that was worth more than any promise.
As they entered into the night, Orion's voice cut through the silence. "So, where do we start?"
Zypher looked up, his gaze fixed on the looming skyscrapers, the corporate towers that scraped the heavens. "We start with the gods," he replied. "And we'll make them remember what they've done."