"There is more to loyalty than money." - Jay

Justin was having a rough week. First, he got the great news that he and his squad were being contracted and deployed, which meant a good amount of extra pay. Then he got the mediocre news that the contract was stateside, a trade off with normally only a little less pay but better amenities. Then came the absolutely shit news, their contract was because everyone on his squad had worked with paranormal and magic users before.

"Fucking fucks. Cock-sucking asshat bitches." He grumbled under his breath as his phone rang, barely able to string together his cursing. "Hello?" he asked, voice still thick with sleep and irritation after seeing it was one in the morning. If he wanted to be woken up in the middle of the night every night, he would have stayed in the Marine Corps.

"Hey, boss." Came the voice of Adam who was on duty that night. "Bad news, but you need to make your way over to the CP."

Justin sat up on his cot and looked at the other dozen still sleeping men in the bunk house. "Alright, be there in a minute." He grumbled under his breath and began pulling on his boots. He wasn't happy about being up an hour earlier than this shift was supposed to wake him.

He then put on the rest of his uniform and his armor, making sure everything was in place and wouldn't pinch or chafe. After slinging his rifle, he began to walk from the bunk house, across the yard to the entrance to the manor. He noted that it was rather foggy that night but also expected it to be with the unpredictable late-fall weather. He would just stick to the foot path to avoid tripping over anything or getting lost.

Justin quickly crossed the lawn that separated the manor and bunk house, which was a repurposed storage building of some sort, by sticking to the pathways. On his several hundred-yard walk across the compound, he had time to think about how much he despised these magic users.

He had met mages, wizards, sorcerers and such before this job. Most of them were alright, if a little full of themselves. But this bunch was a step to far in the 'my shit don't stink' opinions they had of themselves. Over the past ten days his group had been ignored, belittled, berated and even magically punished.

Shivering a little, Justin tried to force down the memory of what they had made Juan do when their leader mentally dominated him. He was glad that the 'lesson' hadn't extended to all of them, or he would have died from embarrassment. One thing was for sure, ever since then, a firm line had been drawn between his men and the coven members. He was also thankful that his squad didn't have any women in it, least there be other issues from these mages.

After that incident, if push came to shove, and they actually had to do what they were hired for, it would only be a token resistance at best. Through code, inflection and inuendo, he had made sure all his guys knew to let the mages burn, not even pissing on them to put the fire out. Oh, they would stick around, no sense in breaking the contract and not getting paid after all.

Once Justin reached the front of the manor, he had to turn left and walk around the building, between the garage and the main building. He had been told, through no uncertain terms, that he and his men were not to use the main entrance or any other, besides the servant's entrance, hidden out of sight of the lawn.

Opening the door to the little storage area they had been allotted to set up a command post in, Justin greeted the short, chronically ginger man behind the desk in as friendly a way as possible that morning. "What the fuck is it now?"

"Morning boss." Adam said and pushed a cup of coffee across the table to him. "His lordship wants to speak with you."

Justin could have laughed at the title if it weren't for the man in question actually insisting, he be addressed as 'Lord Olivan', which was no end of humor for his men. "Aight, where is he?" He asked the obvious while knocking back the coffee that was just the right side of warm.

"I think his butler is waiting for you in the kitchen." Adam said.

"He is a gentleman's gentleman, Adam. And you would do well to remember." Justin said in the poshest tone he could manage through his own New York accent. His radio operator just chuckled while returning to his radio and laptop, making note of something.

Sure enough, when he left the storage area, Justin was greeted by the butler that he normally dealt with. The arrangement was likely for the best since the magic users seemed to prefer the man's more eloquent tone. Regardless of the reason, he actually liked the guy, as the middle-aged man seemed to be more grounded and acted as a good buffer.

"Morning, Charles." Justin said as he approached, giving a friendly wave.

The butler returned a level, neutral stare for a moment before bowing his bald head slightly. "Greetings mister Winslow." He replied in his dry, accented voice that could barely carry across a room. "The master awaits you in his study at the present."

Justin followed after the butler, navigating through the strangely designed and laid out kitchen. He didn't think most large-scale kitchens had appliances in the center, but he also hadn't been to many estates like this.

They did have a bit of a walk, since the study was in the front of the building, near the entrance, while the kitchen was at the far end of one wing. Along the way, Justin noted the few staff going about their work, even greeting a few that passed close enough. When they arrived at the double doors, Charles knocked quickly three times, paused then opened the right-side door.

"Mister Winslow has been able to step away from his duties. Shall I show him in, my lord?"

And that was why Justin liked the guy. He could have said something like 'is answering your summons' or perhaps something as simple as 'has arrived'. But he went out of his way to recognize that Justin was there on business, regardless of how he had been in the middle of his five hours of sleep that night.

"Yes, yes. Send him in." A voice that sounded like it was trying to be distinguished but was just a little too high pitched from stress. "About damn time." Came the muttered words directly after.

Justin glanced at Charles as he passed, making eye contact and mouthing the word 'thanks', only getting a polite nod in return as he closed the doors. The room he found himself in was very familiar, as he had been there several times over the course of this assignment. Though he was never invited to sit in either the lounge furniture or the chairs in front of the desk.

The room could be called a study in the same way a cabinet with food in it was a pantry. Sure, the word could be used, but it failed to meet expectations. When Justin first heard it, he expected comfy leather furniture and a tasteful antique desk sitting amongst floor to ceiling bookshelves. What he saw instead was mostly bare walls, some low bookshelves under 'art' and a garish desk made of reclaimed wood, glass and steel.

The man standing behind the desk looked up as he entered, pulling his eyes away from a computer monitor to level a miserable stare at him. Olivan was a slight man in his fifties, built like someone who could have been athletic if not for his diet consisting mostly of spite and red wine. His face was blotched, showing a fair number of burst blood vessels, typical of a heavy drinker and his body could be described as 'soft'. He was also valiantly trying to pull a goatee together but failing almost as much as his hairline.

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"Winslow it's so good of you to join us." Olivan sneered. He straightened and adjusted his clothes. Clearly the man had also been roused from his slumber because he was in a sweater and slacks rather than his suit and tie.

A second later, Justin noticed the two other people in the dimly lit room. One was an older woman, likely in her sixties. She reminded him all the world of a viper, waiting for her moment to strike, which was weird because he had never seen such a snake in his life. She wore a rather elegant set of silk nightwear with the robe drawn tight around her. That was what he expected of rich people's bed clothes.

The third person was a younger man who, he thought, bore a resemblance to the woman, but it was hard to tell in the low light. Justin guessed he was a few years younger than himself, maybe around his mid-twenties. He was also well muscled, but in a way that suggested weight room more than practical exercise or physical activity.

"I came as soon as I could." Justin answered, barely taking a second to assess the other two in the room. "How can I help you, lord Olivan?"

"This-this fog!" Olivan blurted, waving his hand at the window.

"The fog?" Justin was confused. What was he supposed to do about fog?

"It's unnatural!" Came the nearly frantic reply. "Can't you tell that? It's a conjuration, a ritual of some kind."

Justin carefully listened, trying to pick up on how to play the situation. "I will double the guard rotation for the night if you are concerned." He offered, hoping that Olivan was looking for solutions and not a scapegoat. He also didn't know what else to do. Neither he nor his people were magic users so it wasn't like their skills would help remove…

"Double the guard rotation?" Olivan asked incredulously. His neck was showing a line of red slowly creeping up toward his jaw. "What the hell is that supposed to do?"

Just as he was about to try another approach, Justin was interrupted by the woman on the sofa. "Lord Olivan, this man clearly doesn't know his hexes from his enchantments. Don't berate him in such a way. After all, it doesn't help to beat the hounds that loose a scent.".

Olivan took a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes for a moment before exhaling. "Thank you, Danica. I will try to remember to explain things simply."

Justin wanted to remind them that he was standing right there and that he could hear them. He also didn't know if he should thank Danica or shank her for the back-handed help she offered. But he saw her point and decided to pile on, stroking some ego along the way. "Lord Olivan, if I may?" he didn't wait for permission. "My men are inexperienced with the ways of such conjurations. Could you perhaps offer advice on how we may come to a tactical solution or perhaps share your suspicions?"

All Justin's meager acting skill was put to use as he attempted to recall everything he had ever seen on his ex's drama shows that focused on the English nobility. His adoption of a posh accent and 'polite speak' was about the best he could manage. He almost forgot to breath as he waited for the response.

Olivan looked at him like he was a child asking the same question over and over. "I think there is going to be a magical attack on this estate." He said through a clenching jaw.

"When do you expect this to happen or from what vector?" Justin probed. He needed this information more than he needed the attitude, but he would settle for both.

"We don't know." Danica answered. "Another coven was attacked last month, and they cleaned out the coven house without alerting anyone. We only know about it because the entire inner circle disappeared."

Justin did not like the sound of that. He had seen mage covens in action once, during a contract in eastern Europe, and knew how formidable they could be. "Ok. I will get my guys up and moving."

Olivan didn't quite think that was enough of a solution apparently. "We don't need another dozen men, we need five times that!" he slammed his hand on his desk, producing a strange tone from the thick glass top. "Call up the rest of your company and tell them that I will extend the contract to them."

"Sir tha-" He was cut off by the council leader.

"I don't give a fuck!" Olivan shouted. "You just get your reinforcements here now!" The enraged man didn't seem to understand that reinforcements wouldn't be here for days if they called his company. Still, he would at least get the ball rolling and let his guys know something was up.

"Golf one this is Papa. Radio check" Justin called into his radio. He repeated himself a moment later but still didn't get a response.

Danica stood up suddenly, an expression on her face that was a mix of alarm and anger. "Why aren't they answering?"

"You had better get your men mov- What was that?" Olivan began before hearing a quiet 'clack-clack' and asking the group what it was.

"It means it's too late." Justin muttered as he saw the flicker of shapes in the dark before the exterior lights went out. "Gotta go. You had best wake your coven, Olivan." He called over his shoulder as he ran out of the office and began heading across the large open lobby toward the kitchen.

He burst through the door that separated the ridiculously wide hallway and the kitchen only for it to suddenly go dark. He barely had time to react as the lights went out and he ran head long into the oddly placed refrigerator after stumbling from the abrupt darkness.

"OH BALLS!" Justin Shouted while fumbling to pull his night vision out and attach it to his helmet. "Adam! All call. Wake them up, we are be-" he suddenly locked up with his hands still fumbling with the mount on his helmet. He felt like he was being tazed but without the pain, just complete muscular lock.

His momentum carried him face down to the ground. Thankfully his arms shielded him from smashing his nose on the tiled floor. He was so confused. He didn't know what was happening or why he couldn't move a muscle. Worse that not being able to move, he couldn't blink he couldn't close his mouth or swallow his saliva or do anything besides breathe.

Suddenly Justin realized that he was hearing the quiet footsteps of a lot of feet moving past him. A moment later, he was rolled over on to his back. This position afforded him the view of looking up into a masked face and the glint of a blade descending toward him.

Justin had a moment to realize that he was about to die. Not only die, but also die a very slow death from blood loss. He braced himself as best he could, trying to stay calm as a hand landed on his shoulder and the knife came down beside it.

He was so confused at why someone would stab him in the shoulder that it took him a few seconds to realize he wasn't being bled like a pig. No, in fact he wasn't even being gently stabbed or roughly handled. Instead, he was rolled to his side, and he felt a tug as the knife cut through his rifle sling and then the cord of his headset and radio.

"Which one is this?" Asked a distinctly female voice from Justin's left, just outside his field of view. It was strangely accented, like a mix of several English-speaking dialects but the cadence was strange. He then felt himself rolled to his side, exposing his uniform's shoulder and the patch with the company logo and a star above it.

"This would be the one in charge." Answered another woman's voice, higher but in less of an accent, sounding almost valley girl in its tone. That voice was the one rolling him around, the one that had the knife now secured back in its sheath. She was now moving his arms behind his back before he felt something slide over his wrists followed a moment later by a telltale 'zip' sound.

"Three and Bravo, cover the door with Two." A male voice said, and Justin felt magic wash over him a moment later. He once more found he could move, albeit not very far since he was now on his back, laying atop his cuffed hands and looking up into another masked face.

Justin didn't get a chance to speak before the figure crouched down and whispered. "Do you lead?" The voice was quiet but not at all giving a sense of weakness, more like barely restrained anger.

"Yes, but only my troops." He croaked in a hoarse whisper matching the hushed tone of the masked man. He only now noticed his throat was suddenly very dry.

The masked face in front of him tilted slightly. "Only the mercenaries?" Justin nodded. "Do you want to make a deal that saves their lives but condemns the mages or be all lumped in together and preserve your contract?"

That was a strange question, or at least Justin thought so. It was also a question that didn't exactly need a lot of thought put into it before he answered. "I will deal with you. Fuck those mages. Bunch of prissy cunts."

The figure snorted in amusement then reached down and pulled on Justin's radio pouch. A moment later he saw the little black box come into view and then saw the remaining wire for the headset be pulled out. "Here is what is going to happen. I will key this mic, you will tell your men to stand down and surrender. We swear not to harm them if they don't resist. If you do anything else, I will paralyze you again and then God only knows where you will end up, but I have a feeling you will wish I had killed you. Understand?"

Justin nodded quickly and the stranger held the radio up to his mouth and he heard the soft click of the button. "All units, this is Papa. Stand down and surrender. I have a sworn oath that you will not be harmed if you do not resist." He paused briefly before deciding to add on to the statement. "Remember, we owe these fuckers nothing after what happened to Juan." Click-click-click. A series of clicks came over the radio before he began hearing the voices of his men acknowledge the order.

"Good job." The figure said before turning off the radio and lifting him to his feet with startling ease. He was then marched into the storage closet and sat on the ground next to a clearly still paralyzed Adam. "Sit, stay. He will watch you. Remember to advocate for your men to surrender if something happens."

And with that, the man was gone, vanished in a blur and replaced by a stoic looking dwarf who didn't say a word as he took over guarding them both. Justin spared Adam a glance before sighing heavily. His thoughts were a storm of worry, doubt and hope all blended together into something that was giving him heartburn from stress. He only wished he could reach the small can in his shoulder pocket. After all, did his 'employer' really have any say in his dip habit at this point?

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