"Lifeline"

"Alpha 5 to Nova 4, we're pinned down! We're at-"

The radio, once alive with the panicked voices of the mercenaries hired by VEX, immediately cut to static right as you hear a muffled explosion ring out from a tunnel system above you. Rocks, dirt, and debris, shaken from the shockwave fell onto your uniform and padded armor plates.

An arctic fox merc, Charlie 3, fired his CDBR-308 at several approaching figures donning dark green uniforms and tan minimalistic ballistic-protective accessories. "We've been lingering for too long, Nova 4! Grab as much Asceline as you can and get back to the surface! Don't let those guys take it!"

10 hours before...

You walk into the basement of VEX Research headquarters, your feet trodding on polished stone steps. The steps are illuminated by the red lights under the wooden handrails. The composite steel doors slide open, and there are already 20-30 or so mercenaries, like you, already inside. All were of varying species and builds... Well, some people are just efficient.

On an elevated stage, there was a female shark with long, white hair standing at ease. She was wearing a red-lined suit and dark blue tie. Behind her stood four elite Vanguard units.

Unlike most other mercs, Vanguard and other company specialty units got higher tier gear. Not surprising, but the difference seemed almost like an oppressive leap forward. VEX's Vanguard wore a black cut-resistant body suit under a layer of selective, dark gray, hard plating, especially covering the thighs, knees, shins, chest, forearms, and the shoulders. Even under the plating, you could notice the outlines of a secondary, softer vest made to absorb blunt force trauma rather than to stop bullets. And on top of all these layers of protection, was a custom chest rig with a wide array of pouches seamlessly integrated. It contained everything a Vanguard needed to survive three days on their own, in a warzone.

Their crotch and neck were guarded by a thick layer of normal, navy-colored kevlar. Their helmets were navy too, but VEX's vanguard constantly wore ballistic masks with an integrated opaque-tinted visor.

With a nod, the shark motioned her guards to move. They circled around the room like sharks, holding their array of weapons tightly, ready to purge any traitorous mercenary. One Vanguard unit was holding two SAP-10 machine pistols. Another was holding a rotary tri-barreled, belt-fed RMG-6.5. Another was holding a small ballistic shield with a cutout to stabilize his, or her semi auto shotgun. You didn't recognize the model. The last one had their hands around a flash bang.

The shark tapped a microphone on stage, and looked at the crowd of mercs in front of her. She spoke with a cold yet respectful tone.

"I see you all have taken the contract proposed by VEX research. I'm Kask, and I'll be your mission coordinator."

Kask stepped to the side and turned on a projector and a laser pointer. What flickered to life on the used whiteboard was the island of Levra, marked with yellow, cross-linked zones. She directed her red laser into a southern zone.

"This is Point Gamma. It is a network of abandoned mines when the turf wars occured. We're not here to take the area, at least not yet. Those mines contain a large supply of Asceline, your objects of retrieval. But you're not here for science lessons."

Kask clicked a button that brought her to the next slide. It was showing an armored kit, starting with a crisp, water-proof dark brown combat apparel. It was covered by a black plate carrier, bendable elbow and kneepad inserts, and a helmet with an attached single tube of night vision. Separate from the diagram was a black, clear-lensed gas mask, capable of holding two filters.

"The mines are going to be extremely toxic, and other companies are looking Asceline as well. Do not use a flashlight, unless you want to sign yourselves and your team up for a free, same day delivery death pass. You all understand the stress here. Four hours. That's all we can filter in Point Gamma."

She rotated the image. The gas mask had a tube connected to a large oxygen tank on the back, wrapped in a lovely case of kevlar.

"The payment is currently 50,000 credits per pound of Asceline. Be as efficient as you claim to be, and it shouldn't be a problem. Last reminder. You're not here to hunt down other corporations. You're here only for the Asceline. Any questions?"

Seven hours later/Three hours before the present...

Kask radioed in, and you tuned your headset to drown out the sound of the helicopter blades chopping in the air. You were with 14-15 other mercenaries, wearing the same, dark outfit meant to make your time in the mines hopefully easier. You shrug your shoulders, feeling the hefty yet resilient weight of body armor on your shoulders and padding strapped to your elbows. Others decided not to wear it and wore their own gear fearing VEX's standard issue equipment would impact their dexterity. You were given the codename 'Nova 4', any name you had before replaced for easier coordination and identification.

"Alright mercs, we're landing at Point Gamma. Good luck." The transport helicopters landed, dirt and sand kicking up a storm as you and the others stepped out. You sling a "recovery bag" on your side-a glorified, navy blue VEX duffle bag. The maw of the rocky, cave was wide open and already pitch black, like a monster welcoming you into its jaws and into its belly...

CURRENT

You grab two VEX bags filled with Asceline, and run towards what you believe was the backwards path to escape. The air, the adrenaline... You've never felt so alive yet so suffocated. As you ascend up the rocky terrain, you feel something slam into your back with the force of a rocket-powered sledgehammer. You fall forward, and the paralyzing pain prevented you from grabbing onto anything as you rolled back down to even ground. With each fall, you felt the armor absorb some shock, saving your head and limbs from further fracture, but your night vision goggle cracks, leaving you back into the darkness. Numbness turns into searing pain, where every attempt at movement cost an agonizing feeling akin to having your back hit with an aluminum bat.

Then you hear a snap and a fizzing sound. Your breaths become more ragged as the filtered air begins to become contaminated with all sorts of caustic chemicals, not to mention whatever hit you on your back made your breaths feel like you just couldn't stop running a marathon. You pass out, hoping you'd die to shock first instead of your internal organs failing one by one.

Two days later... You awake on a blindingly clean white mattress with a black steel frame. There was a navy rolled up blanket next to you. The moment you look around the room, you knew where you were. Concrete, dark gray walls, the lack of windows, a single, sliding door, a cheap wooden door that led to your restroom, and a rack for any weapons or gear you had-oh hey there was your gun and the VEX outfit-... The Shadow Gardens.

For some reason, someone had dragged your somehow-still-alive body out of Point Gamma and took you here. The Shadow Gardens stood as an underground neutral ground for all mercs, run by surprisingly not a corporation but a mafia. Only exception was no contracts or business. Or you get shot.

"Huh, you woke faster than I expected. Tough body?.. well it was mostly your plate carrier and your luck."

Your eyes dart to the bored voice of a lilac-haired female coyote standing at your now open, sliding door. She was wearing a slightly cropped dark gray combat shirt and shorts assorted with large pockets. Her black tactical belt held a pistol holster, several magazine pouches, and a few utility pouches, including a dump pouch and an IFAK firmly attached. A suppressed RB LBC-10 was slung in front of her chest. Her hands were covered by a pair of sterile, latex-free, light blue gloves. She had a leather collar around her neck; affixed was a set of dogtags. Her green eyes roamed over your body analytically and rapidly, as if she had done this thousands of times before.

"Just some blunt force trauma and cave toxins... Be happy you didn't get a shattered spinal cord and a chronic smoker's pair of lungs."

She set down a rectangular glass cup next to you, filled with a translucent orange liquid. From the smell alone, it was a painkiller drink. Her right shoulder patch was a white hexagon inside a yellow hexagon, the symbol of GLO Labs. She leaned back against the doorframe.

"How was the experience of getting shot by jacketed 308? Or in other words, how does it feel to have a freight train fall from a cliff right onto your back? I'm Lifeline, by the way. Don't worry about the costs."