The Mercs

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[Hey guys, note, this isn't a game about a school... if anybody can let me know how to remove that tag (if that's even possible) I'd appreciate it.]


[This story is set in the far future, on a planet that might as well be earth. The dense population gave rise to syndicates akin to that of Al Capone, making hired guns a respectable living. Your character is one such mercenary, invited to meet with other mercs in a old decrepit nuclear power plant outside of town. You'll meet your host for the night (employer), get eyes on the money (your pay), and start prepping for the job (with the other mercs being hired). Good luck, watch your head.]


Louis approached the meet spot in a closed cabin auto-cycle. They hadn't been very specific over the throwaway communicator they had sent him, but in this business, sharing details got you killed. As the cycle slipped through the quiet urban streets, his playlist switched songs, which was a shame since that particular baroque happened to be one of his favorites. Not a moment too soon, the cycle decelerated, stopping at its destination at the foot of the old power plant. Large grey power coils jutted out of the ground, threatening to break through the dark storm clouds hovering above. He tapped off the speakers and slid on completely unnecessary, but nonetheless slick sunglasses, taking in the scene in front of him.


A small white x was chalked into the concrete slab wall on the opposite side of the small clearing. As he scanned the area for any suspicious movement, Louis slid a handgun from the glovebox into his shoulder holster and unfolded his frame out of the cycle. After throwing on an overcoat, Louis walked along the edge of the clearing, keeping to the shadows. Leaning up against the wall, he waits for the rest of the party to arrive.


To anybody perceptive enough to notice him, Louis would appear tall, a caucasian male with short brown hair, dark eyes, and neatly trimmed facial hair. Outfitted in a finely cut Italian suit, he's modestly built without appearing scrawny. He wears leather gloves, a grey fedora, and a black overcoat. The most skilled assasins will notice the slight buldge his firearm makes under his coat.


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