The events that took place two years ago in the Pit had an impact on him.
Of course, the changes were not radical, but it seems that he found his calling.
For almost two years now, he has been dancing with death and working as a mercenary.
And in those two years, he has become one of Southville's best mercenaries. Of course, he had a lot to do with this achievement, but... There were other reasons too.
"I didn't think you'd agree so easily... What was the point of avoiding the promotion anyway?" Marcel asked as he descended into the secret basement.
"..." He thought.
Of course, mercenaries did not work officially, but even so, this profession was highly respected. Ranks in this field not only allowed one to take on more skilled jobs, but also gave access to incredible privileges. Increased pay for each job, housing, access to various pleasures, including illegal ones, connections, access to the best medicine, implants, weapons, and clothing that money couldn't buy... And, of course, greater personal power.
Access to everything on this list and even more was systematically opened up with each rank increase...
But for the last two months, Mr. Nobody hadn't been in any hurry to advance to Diamond.
"I just liked mine," he replied simply.
"Black-gold… Don't tell me you stayed with it because of the cool name."
"I won't," he replied with a smile.
"God... It's Diamond, kid."
The old man couldn't help himself and put his hand to his face.
His reaction was understandable because throughout Concord and possibly even beyond, Diamond was considered a completely different level. This statement took into account everything from official privileges to simple street respect. The real Major League.
There were six ranks in total, each of which was divided into three stages.
Bronze and its three stages.
Silver and its three stages.
Gold...
White-Gold, Rose-Gold, and Black-Gold, where Mr. Nobody was ranked.
Next came Diamond and its three stages, followed by the two highest ranks.
After descending the stairs, they found themselves in front of a massive black door.
In the center of the door was a scanner, which immediately lit up red and focused on the old man.
"Marcel Moreno, broker rank 3... Access granted."
Following the mechanical voice, the black door opened.
The old man went inside, and Mr. Nobody followed him.
"Unidentified subject..."
The scanner hesitated slightly, trying to recognize the identity of the other subject.
To fool it, one could wear a mask and choose an identity from a list of fake documents entered into the official database... But there was no urgent need for that.
"..." He turned sideways and showed the patch on his left shoulder.
"Unidentified mercenary of the Black Gold rank... Welcome, Unknown."
The scanner lost its red color and became almost invisible.
"Tsk, Unknown... How can you insult people like that? Someday I'll get you, tin can."
As he stepped into the basement room, a muted blue glow immediately struck the eyes.
In the center of the room was a large square table with a sensor panel, and on either side were numerous shelves.
The shelves were literally overflowing with various equipment, ranging from advanced weapons and gear to synthetic organs and artificial body parts.
Inside, there was another door leading to a specific place... but he didn't want to go there yet. Besides, the cheerful sounds coming through even the thick basement walls were already getting on his nerves.
"Ahh... I think after coffee, this is my favorite aroma." He took a deep breath, savoring the smell of damp basement walls.
"Well, are you ready?" Marcel called to him, already sitting at the table.
"Let's go."
The old man pressed a certain combination on the touch panel, and the table literally came to life. Various holograms, graphs, and data appeared above it.
"..." Bringing up a specific list in front of him, the old man scrolled through it and found the gig he was looking for.
A moment later, a detailed map of a specific area and the contract details appeared above the table.
The area on the map looked like the outpost of some group in the wasteland.
"A theft contract… A couple of weeks ago, our client lost a valuable item, and recently sensors detected it here. So, in fact, this is not theft, but a rightful reclamation from less-than-honest thieves."
The old man pointed to the task projection, where a small red dot was flashing.
"Outside the city... This item is located in the wasteland outside Concord, right?"
"That's right," Marcel nodded.
"Then why hasn't anyone taken this gig yet? There have always been plenty of people willing to leave for a while or try their luck slipping out of the city..."
"Well..." The old man smiled slightly and scratched his wrinkled cheek with his finger. "Most Diamonds belong to groups and can't take on just any job. The number of independents keeps shrinking, and with the disappearance of the Ghost, you could count the free Diamonds on one hand."
"That Ghost again... But I'm not a Diamond."
"True. And since there are no free Diamonds at the moment, given the urgency of the gig, the client agreed to make a concession and offer the job to a lower rank... More precisely, only to you from the lower ranks."
"An exclusive contract?" he asked in surprise.
"Yep. Your reputation speaks for itself. You don't argue, you don't change the terms, you don't question the details of the contract, you take the worst gigs, and you always deliver...."
"And what of that is true?"
"Only the last one! But for some reason, everyone stubbornly believes that you are the most impartial and flexible mercenary who takes on any dirty job. Although, what can I say... if I didn't know you better, I would believe it myself."
"That was the plan, old man," he replied with a smirk. "Let's get back to the job, because it's not that simple, is it?"
"Of course. If it weren't you, but someone else, I'd say this would be a suicide run... But you only take on jobs like this."
Hearing this assessment, he took a closer look at the map and asked.
"It's all about whose base it is, right?"
"Yes. It's the field headquarters of the nomadic scavengers. It's located in the wasteland 40 kilometers from Concord."
"Scavengers... they've always been disliked."
"But in this case, it's even worse. According to initial estimates from drones, there are more than a hundred scavengers in these headquarters... And every last one of them Dirty Baals."
"Ha..."
He chuckled dryly, imagining the disgust that would appear on the face of any Concord citizen at the mere mention of this race. Compared to them, many would consider the cockroaches in their apartments to be cute pets.
"Of course, it's not for me to say, kid... But even your typical hustler's face won't help here. Stealth isn't an option."
"Haah..." He sighed wearily. If stealth was off the table then… "Then it'll be a massacre."
"..."
"Wouldn't be the first time."