A Cobra's Tale Part 1: The Restless Warrior

Part 3: Risks and Opportunities

City Centre, Port Racice, Tukayyid, FRR, December 5th 3066 Laz slowly cruised the streets of the city’s commercial sector. The dingy, run-down buildings and litter-strewn streets were mute testament to the fact this was not one of Port Racice’s more scenic locales. He’d deliberately picked one of the less reputable areas – with the wares he hoped to sell he needed a buyer who would pay cash and not ask too many questions. His eyes scanned the buildings while the rest of his senses remained alert for any sign of trouble. Finally, with the light beginning to fade from the sky, he found what he was looking for. He brought the battered wagon to a halt a short distance from a large, corrugated Ferro-steel warehouse. The large faded sign on the front proclaimed it to be the premises of Gurney Salvage Co. Not bothering to lock the vehicle, he walked over to the warehouse. The large, sliding front doors were locked, as was the personnel entrance. Walking down a dark side alley formed by the building’s side and the neighbouring warehouse, he found another door – this one unlocked. After a moment’s hesitation, he cautiously opened the door and stepped inside. He gave his eyes a few moments to adjust to the harsh fluorescent lighting before looking around to take in his surroundings. At first all he could see were towering racks containing bins of spare parts and all manner of tools. The warehouse was noisy, but no worse than the average mech bay in full operation. Suddenly he heard a shout. Looking round for the source of the voice, Laz saw a large, burly man in dirty coveralls scowling at him. “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he yelled over the noise. Laz saw he was holding a large, heavy-looking adjustable wrench and decided it was best not to annoy him any more than necessary. “Uh…I’m looking for Mr Gurney”, he called back, hoping he sounded calm and businesslike. The man seemed surprised that Laz hadn’t simply turned tail and fled. He lumbered over and leaned down with his nose just inches from Lazarus’ face. “And what business have you got with him. Have you got an appointment?” he growled menacingly. Laz quickly looked around again. This didn’t look like the kind of place you made appointments to visit. He decided to tell the truth. “Um…no…I wasn’t aware one was necessary”, he managed. “You a cop?” the man asked, quickly stepping back and brandishing his wrench like a club. The question threw Laz somewhat. “What? Er…no…I’ve got some gear he may be interested in, that’s all”, Laz blurted, desperately trying to think of some way to calm the man down. He really wished he hadn’t decided to leave his pistol in the car. The man regarded him suspiciously for several moments before turning and walking back to the end of the row of storage bins. He yelled and gestured at someone Laz couldn’t see and moments later two more men came into view. Dressed like their boss, they were equally large and swarthy. Laz groaned inwardly, certain things were about to get ‘interesting’. Instead Mr Gurney directed one of his men outside to check Laz hadn’t brought anyone with him. The second man proceeded to frisk him, while Gurney stood close by, casually tossing the wrench from one hand to the other. “He’s clean boss”, said the second goon when he’d finished. The first tech came back at that point. “Nothing”, he said shaking his head, “He’s on his own boss”. Gurney stared quizzically at Laz. “Okay short stuff”, he rumbled, “Whaddaya got?”

Part 4: Doublecross...

Outskirts of Port Racice, Tukayyid, Free Rasalhague Republic, December 5th 3066 Laz navigated the crowded streets of Port Racice with great care, keeping a nervous eye on the passengers who shared the car with him. His thoughts kept straying to the laser pistol stashed under driver’s seat, though he hoped he wouldn’t have to resort to using it. “This better be worth my while, pal”, growled Gurney from the back seat, “Or my boys here may have to do some reconstructive work on your face”. This last was delivered with a sneer. His two lackeys sniggered, giving wide, unpleasant, gap-toothed grins. Laz opened his mouth to speak then closed it again. He was often his own worst enemy – shooting his mouth off without thinking…or more often not caring about the consequences. In this situation, the consequences were potentially fatal. Instead he concentrated on driving. It wasn’t long before they left the city behind and looked out instead on the rolling open countryside. This time he took a narrow dirt track off the main road that cut through crop fields and meadows, the four of them jolted around in their seats as they headed for the abandoned farm. Laz pulled up beside the barn where he had parked the Lao-Hu, got out and motioned for Gurney and his men to follow. Gurney stopped beside him and gave a low whistle. “Well, that sure is different…never seen a paint job like that one before…don’t recognise the insignia either”. He looked Laz, who was wearing civilian clothes, up and down suspiciously. “Where the hell did you get hold of a piece of kit like this?” “I was hoping you weren’t the type to ask questions”, said Laz, growing increasingly irritated by this wrench-jockey and his thugs. “If you must know, I’m ex-AFFS - Special Ops…hence the unusual paint scheme and insignia. Well…are you interested or not?” he asked impatiently. “Deserter eh?” Gurney grinned. “Whatcha do – punch out your CO or something?” “That’s for me to know and for you not to worry about”, the former ISDF Sergeant said pointedly. “Now do you want the damn mech or not?” He bit his lip, thinking he might have overstepped the mark with that outburst. Instead Gurney seemed to take it with good humour. “Well hold your horses sonny. I gotta have a look-see first, so I know what I’m getting for my money”, he said, staring up at the Lao-Hu’s squat profile, scratching his unshaven cheek thoughtfully. Laz sighed and strode over to the mech, climbing with practiced ease up the hand and footholds and opening the cockpit canopy. He swung down again gracefully and gestured to Gurney, “Knock yourself out”. Gurney retraced Laz’s steps, although his ascent to the cockpit was considerably slower and accompanied by much grunting and swearing. After inspecting the interior he opened up the compartment underneath the cockpit, grinning, “Mighty nice of ya to include the spares!” he called, gesturing to the place Laz had stored the additional equipment. He clambered down and walked slowly round the machine, noting with evident delight the advanced weaponry and composite armour. “That’s one fine machine you got there”, he said walking over to Laz. “Reckon I can give you five mil for her”. “I admire your sense of humour”, said Laz, eyeing him coldly. “It’s worth at least double that. I take it you have noticed it’s outfitted with the latest NAIS tech?” Gurney’s expression changed from friendly to ugly in an instant, “Look kiddo, Capellan mechs aren’t that popular round these parts…hard to shift if you know what I mean. I can get good money for the weapons but that means taking it apart…cost me and the boys a lot of time and effort. Five mil – that’s my final offer…you can take it or leave it”. “I’ll tell you where you can stick your offer…pal!” spat Laz. But he never got the chance to tell Gurney what he could do with his offer as suddenly he felt a searing pain in the back of his head and everything went dark…. Gurney smiled at the tech standing over Jamal’s inert body, inspecting the crowbar he had used to hit Laz. “Nice one Rusty”, he said in mild surprise. The big lug never usually did anything without being told, “A little over the top maybe, but well done”. “Well, it didn’t look like he was going to co-operate boss”, said Rusty. “Thought he needed a little encouragement, like”. Gurney reached for the phone clipped to his tool belt. He hit the button to dial a pre-set number and waited for a response. “Gurney here…I want you to send the hauler out. We’re about five klicks outside town on Route 5…tell the driver he’ll know where to stop…”