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Chapter 14: Nate & Nate
🕑 Added 2025-04-15 04:48:55 +0000 UTCThe next day, Artemvian took his favorite taxi service to the meeting place.
“Blasted Hells, Hermes. The least you could do is give me a discount if I’m late.”
“Please be aware that ride-sharing options may result in delays!” The robotic voice beeped, an androgynous face on the dashboard screen miming the words. “For the future, consider upgrading to our Premium Subscription Package! Benefits include and are not limited to: top of the line security detail, priority pick-up times, complementary–”
“Alright, that’s enough out of you.” Artemvian opened the rear door. “You have a nice day now, you hear?”
“Whatevers man.” The random civilian, whom Artemvian had shared this ride with, had glazed eyes the entire ride. He had been looking at the internet, using ONN most likely.
“Kids these days.” Artemvian shook his head as the taxi sped away, joining the bullet-speed traffic within seconds.
This was one of the busiest part of Nero City and one of the nicer parts too. Buildings whose walls were painted with holographic billboards ascended into the sky so high that most people lost sight up of them in the clouds. Or smoke, rather, according to Riley. Glass walls surrounded the inner-city blocks; refracting the strange looks of the citizens of Nero City.
This was definitely the working class. Artemvian spied a man in a business suit pass by him, one eye glazed over in a ONN call, while the other navigated the streets. Still, another group of younger men, all in suits, entered a restaurant across the street. Some of them bald with flashing green lights around their forehead the only evidence of their cybernetic enhancements.
It seemed that the more money you had, the more subtle your enhancements.
“Mr. Moneti?”
The professional woman standing behind him lifted her glasses with a hand, holding a manilla folder-colored tablet tucked under one arm. Behind her were two men in suits, wearing sunglasses. It didn’t take a genius to realize that they were bodyguards.
“Ah, here to pick me up?” Artemvian fell into stride, as the woman began leading him towards one of the cleanest and largest buildings.
“I apologize for Mr. Plain not being here to greet you. He had prior engagements.” She began tapping away at the tablet, walking through the automatic doors.
The inside of the building was just like the outside. Impossibly high ceilings, pristine marbled walls and dozens of people occupying the company lobby. A huge hologram of the Nate & Nate logo floated in the center, spinning lazily. Some of the office workers gave Artemvian a curious glance, but immediately dismissed him on the way towards their work.
“Oh, with the other Mercenaries?”
“We prefer the term Contractors.” She stopped by the elevators and pressed her thumb to one of the screen.
[DNA AUTHORIZED]
[Helen Moon]
[Clearance Level 2]
The elevator door opened and she entered, followed by her bodyguards. Artemvian squeezed in after them. Helen pressed the number 25.
“Helen. That’s a nice name. I knew a Helen once.” He turned to one of the bodyguards. “Hey, want to hear a limerick?”
“The 25th floor is where we are holding the orientation. I believe the others have already started.”
Artemvian ignored the subtle jab at his tardiness. “There was a girl named Helen. She kissed a Gremlin.”
The subtle pull of gravity pressed down on Artemvian’s weight as the elevator ascended rapidly.
“By now, you should have received the promised deposit wired directly to your account.”
“Yuck, said the Gremlim named Alan. Your breath smells worse than a rotten Melon.” Artemvian sang.
“Mr. Moneti, we’re here.”
The door to the elevator opened and Artemvian was introduced to a whole new side of Nero City he hadn’t seen before.
He’d only traveled to the Slums, been in cabs and stayed inside his somewhat acceptable apartment. He wasn’t surprised by the lobby earlier either. He’d seen his share of holograms and knew that the pharmaceutical was rich. He had just assumed the rest of the building would be the same.
The 25th floor gave Artemvian pause.
The entire floor gave of a luminescent neon-blue glow, coming from the crevice where the walls and floor met. The halls were paced with large metallic tiles, sinking just a bit underneath Artemvian’s boots with each step. It bounced back with a little push, making him walk faster than would’ve been possible by himself.
The walls were entombed with decorative-glass, some of them serving as display cases to high-tech gadgets. Some of them were just computer chips, with a nonsense combination of letters and numbers. Guns that didn’t look like guns, swords with just the handles and even a robotic arm greeted the group as they walked past. One of the display cases actually held an entire motorcycle, the entire section of the wall made out of bulletproof glass.
It wasn’t just the appliances. It was the design, the atmosphere and the sheer scale of the place. Hundreds of tiny little gadgets had to have surrounded them, embedded into the foundation of the floor itself.
Helen had a knowing smirk on her face. “This way.”
She led him down a series of hallways, all lines and no curves. He passed a few more displays, like the cylindrical aquatic tanks with strange dragon-looking creatures.
Finally, Helen stopped in front of a non-marked room. She pressed her thumb to it and the same text display as before popped up, then the metal door slid open.
“Here you are, Mr. Moneti.”
Artemvian walked in without a second thought.
Inside the room were six people, one of them being Mr. Plain. The other five were obviously contractors. Of the five, only three of them caught Artemvian’s attention.
The first was a man with a mohawk, where half his face was made completely of machinery. He wore a jean jacket with the sleeves ripped off, and the machine-eyes zoomed towards Artemvian like a telescope. Swiveling in his seat, the man turned to get a better look. Artemvian realized it wasn’t just his face, but the entire right half of his body was made of cybernetic enhancements.
“Who’s this wanker?”
“That’s Mr. Moneti. The sixth member of our project.” Mr. Plain said in the same monotone that Artemvian remembered. “Mr. Moneti, please take a seat.”
One of the two that Artemvian had dismissed raised his hand. A rather plain looking young man. “He’s late.”
“Sorry, I got stuck in traffic.” Artemvian smiled, scratching the back of his head.
“The point is that you're late.” The young man repeated. “And bro, you’re the fresh meat here. Don’t you know that time is money for people like us?”
“Rest assured, Mr. Moneti will be brief separately later.”
“Yeah, but now he’s behind, ain’t he?” He rose from his seat. “And how do we know we can leave our backs to him, when he’s this incompetent?” The mercenary looked to the others. “Am I wrong?”
The mohawked man who called Artemvian ‘Wanker’ so kindly, nodded, crossing his arms.
“I concur. Punctuality is one of the primary factors in this task.”
The speaker wore this hybrid cloth between a trench-coat and dress, but embroidered with flowers. Artemvian remembered seeing it described as a ‘Kimono’ in his hours of anime-watching.
Her long hair had the color of light pink cherry blossoms, braided into a neat ponytail. The bottom half of her face was covered with a mask resembling the lower jaw of a beast. When she spoke, the mask garbled her voice so that it came out in little yips and barks.
“I’ve heard good things about you, Mr. Moneti.”
It was the last person who had caught Artemvian’s attention. An older gentleman dressed in a brown suit. He was out of place in this assortment of mercenaries. For one, he had no cybernetic enhancements that Artemvian could see. Not even an accessory, except for the plain looking monocle resting on one eye. Even the kimono-girl had the voice-changing mask.
Second, he had the face of a goat.
Not a face that resembled a goat.
Eyes, snout, white fur with a goatee. Hooked horns curling out from beneath the hat.
The man was a goat.
“Either I’m in the right place, or I found myself at the zoo.” Artemvian made a show of rubbing his eyes.
“Capras.” The half-machine-half-man swiveled in his seat, turning to face the old goat. “You know this bloke?”
“He’s Artemvian Delacreau Moneti. A rising star in our line of business.” The goat-man, who was named Capras apparently, took coffee mug and lifted it to his lips. He swirled it around, enjoying the coffee’s aroma then took a bite out of the glass. “He’s one of Riley’s.”
“Riley? Logan’s kid?” The machine-man peered at Artemvian.
“The very same.”
“Hmmm. Fine.” He turned back to the table, flicking through the tablet in his hand.
Artemvian looked off into space, mimicking the expression of those who were browsing through their ONN. “Note to self, ask Riley about Logan later.” Then said, “Did I say that out loud?”
“Look, it’s obvious this guy’s an idiot.” The young man from earlier stood up from his seat, talking to Mr. Plain. “And if half the rumors I heard about this job are true, I don’t want someone like him watching my back.”
Plain sighed. “Rest assured, Mr. Moneti is here because Nate & Nate’s assessment of his abilities have deemed them to be beneficial to the success of this project. I’ve personally double-checked the numbers.”
“Yeah? Fat lot of good your numbers will do me when I wind up with an ass full of Amruq lead.”
The fifth member spoke up, a young girl no older than an academy recruit. “Amruq?”
“Yeah, Amruq.” The man sneered, briefly looking at Plain. When Plain didn’t comment, he continued, “Rumor is that Amruq Zaibatsu put out a bounty to intercept a very particular parcel.”
“Excuse me,” Artemvian said cheerfully, “What’s an Amruq Zaibatsu?”
“Alright, I’ve had it.” The angry young man finally rose from his chair walking up to Artemvian. Slowly, the young man’s left arm began to glow with greenish light.
Artemvian sighed like a man twenty years older than he looked. “Hey, you don’t want to do this. I know what you’re trying to do. And trust me, it’s not worth it.”
“Try to do what? Save my own ass?”
“You’re hoping to increase your pot. Your pay. The moolah.” Artemvian made the universal gesture of money with his fingers, three different ways. “You think getting rid of me means that you can squeeze out a little more money from Mr. Normal over there.”
“Plain. My name is Plain.”
“Whatever. The point is,” The mage rolled his eyes, pulling a chair out and attempting to sit in it. “You’re not going to see a single cent out of that guy. They’re super penurious.”
Then in a motion too fast for the human eye to follow, the young man grabbed the chair and threw it at the wall.
Normally, this would have meant that whoever had been about to sit down fell over backwards. The momentum from throwing their weight backwards, as well as the expectation of the chair being there to support their weight –and the timing was perfect.
But Artemvian didn’t fall.
Far from it.
He sat down on thin air.
“Wind Elementalist.” The machine-man spat.
“Please do not spit inside the office, Mr. Thrumm.”
Capras’ eyes twinkled, taking another bite of the mug.
“...Wind Elementalist?” The kimono-wearing woman seemed intrigued. “I retract my earlier statement. He may stay.”
“Daniel, you should take a seat.” Capras said casually, swallowing bits of glass. “He was able to cast a spell in less time than it took for you to throw that chair. Not only that, none of us managed to catch it.”
“But–”
“He’s out of your league, Daniel. Let it be.”
Daniel scowled at Artemvian some more but the green aura encircling his arms disappeared. He continued to glare at Artemvian, taking a seat opposite of him and next to Capras.
Artemvian winked at Mr. Plain, who frowned slightly at Capras’ comment.
One of Helen’s bodyguards brought a new chair over for Artemvian.
“Just slide it in there.” Artemvian quipped without changing positions, “No homo.”
Thumm snorted, “Oh he’s a riot, that one.”
At first the bodyguard look confused, then he slowly slid the chair beneath Artemvian.
Capras seemed doubly surprised.
“It seems introductions are in order.” Mr. Plain sighed, “I’m sure you’ve already met, Mr. Moneti. Would the rest of you mind introducing yourselves?”
“Capras Trois.” The goat-man said simply. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Moneti.”
“Thumm. ChyMechra Breed.” Thrumm said it like that should explain everything.
“...Call me Wolf.” The woman with the mask said.
Daniel didn’t introduce himself, crossing his arms. When it was clear he wouldn’t introduce himself, the girl next to him went.
“Kerry.”
“Cloak.” Artemvian replied.
“...What?” Thrumm asked incredulously.
“Oh, I thought we were sharing our code names. Hey, what do you think about Cloak? Lacking a little of that ‘wow’ factor, isn’t it?” Artemvian began, “Let me throw a couple at you guys.” He started counting off on his fingers. “There’s Shade. Shadow, you know, like cause it sounds cool. Or Ghost. Or maybe something off the normal beat, like Cuffs. Or like, The One Who Casts. Hmmm, no, I don’t–”
“This guy’s fucking insane.” Daniel said finally.
“Hey! I like that! The Psycho Mage! Muahahahahahahaha!” Artemvian practiced his evil laugh, not caring about the looks he got.
Plain shared a look with Helen.
At this point, he was willing to pay Artemvian to leave.
