7. Miko
“Gaaahhh!”
On the way back after killing Maika, ripping out his implants, and disposing of the hounds, Topher jolted awake in the car with a scream. He'd been dozing off for a bit.
“Ugh, shit... Whew, you scared me. Boss? What is it? Bad dream?”
“Fuck...”
Lucci, startled, yanked the wheel hard and the car swerved, but Topher had no time to care.
“...Real bad dream, huh?”
“...A nightmare, yeah. If that's what you wanna call it.”
Topher rubbed his face, replaying the dream. A silver-gray haired girl lightly hopping—boing—at the heart of the wasteland. Nothing special, really. To anyone else, it wouldn't even qualify as a nightmare.
But to Topher, it hit different. The earthquake and explosions after that hop. Choking dust, raging gale winds, earth flipped and shattered, even vaporized entirely. And that was just the start. Muttering about needing to leave nail marks, she'd crumpled a buggy into a crude shovel and tore up that hard-packed ground like it was nothing. Terrifying. Utterly terrifying.
If you'd witnessed it even once with your own eyes, that dream would've been a nightmare for sure. Hell, just seeing the girl hop in place might make you foam at the mouth and pass out.
Sure, there are people in this world who could pull off something like that. But they don't look human. Not beautiful like Soo—just hulking masses caked in crude implants.
“Hoo...”
That's why Soo scared him. A girl who triggered cognitive dissonance while unleashing natural disasters... Was there anything in the wasteland that matched her?
Sandstorm? Not even close. Sandstorms announce themselves proudly. They're huge—you spot 'em from miles away. Soo? No warning. If her mood soured, boom—disaster. An innocent girl utterly incomprehensible to any normal mind.
So, did he hate her? Nah, not really.
Her thoughts were a mystery, her actions unpredictable, she was a bit crazy, acted like a grizzled merc veteran one minute then showed a shocking lack of common sense the next—impossible to guess her age. And yet, Topher actually liked Soo quite a bit. Felt good having her as a comrade.
Not just her raw power, either. Even in the aftermath, she handled things right. Straight-up demanding payment first without bullshit, then handing it over herself. Telling him she trusted him and would wait back at base. All of it.
Topher didn't speak casually to Soo. But flashing that kind of vulnerability in front of his family? It'd undermine his authority as leader. So she'd stayed behind, saying she'd wait at base. How could you not like someone that thoughtful?
'Hell, she's fronting us this much credit—couldn't hate her even if I tried.'
Just selling the hounds had netted enough to feed the Topher Family for eight years, and Soo was giving them 40%. Made Topher's desperate gamble to skim just 7.5% look like a joke.
And the big one: the Void Spike. No buyer yet, but selling that alone would buy two years of easy living.
'Yeah... that's right. At this rate, I could polish her shoes for life.'
She was a stranger he'd just met yesterday, but Topher sensed something in her only found in seasoned mercs.
“...Why the sudden grin, boss?”
“Grin? Heh-heh-grin? Watch your damn tone when you talk to me, punk. Yeah?”
Topher smacked Lucci's bald head—thwack—and growled, but he couldn't stop grinning.
Even after learning magic was real, meeting a girl who wielded it like a natural disaster, and getting roped into smashing a Zailek experiment... Topher felt fulfilled. That inexplicable satisfaction and contentment? Straight out of his merc days.
“The world's a beautiful place.”
Of course, the heaviest satisfaction came from his bulging pockets. That weightless weight of credits? Pure merc nostalgia.
To folks in this world, the ID Chip was like an ID card on steroids. Almost no one lacked one. No chip? No implants, no apartment, not even a damn loaf of bread. Even in the wasteland, chip-less scavengers were rare. Safe to say everyone had one.
Soo? No chip.
Topher, who'd been quaking in his boots around her, first thought she was lying. But nope—really gone.
“So, boss, what's the plan for the ID chip? Gotta have one for Eden.”
“Buy one from a broker.”
“A broker?”
Broker IDs were fakes, obviously. Some said they repurposed chips from Eden's missing persons; others claimed full fabrications. Even the brokers selling them didn't know the truth.
“Yeah. Got enough cash for it.”
Soo opened the pouch hugged to her chest. Proceeds from selling the hounds, converted to gold bars. More than enough for a fake chip.
“Tch... True, but which gate you hitting? East's cracking down hard on the war shit—fakes are risky these days.”
“Southpeak.”
“Ah... Makes sense. Show a little courtesy there, and they'll look the other way.”
“Yeah.”
Southpeak was Eden's poorest district. No fat bribes to skim, so even the ECPD guards' pockets stayed light. Slip 'em a modest "gesture," and they'd wave a fake through.
“Solid plan. Any trouble, you'd handle it anyway, boss. Only issue... that tail.”
“Buying a scan-jammer implant too.”
“Thorough as always.”
Topher finally nodded, relieved—like a dad sending his daughter off on a trip.
“Who you seeing for the broker? I can hook you up if needed.”
Soo strapped the gold-stuffed pouch tight to her back and shook her head.
“Got one. Name's a secret.”
“Uh... Alright. Brokers can be shady as hell with their thugs, so watch your—er, never mind. You'll be fine, boss.”
Who'm I worrying about? Soo? Should be the broker worrying about her.
Topher shut his mouth.
“Yeah, I'll enjoy the lunchbox.”
“Lunchbox? Just tossed in some frozen burgers.”
“Still, thanks.”
Soo smiled faintly, waved as she opened the door.
“See ya. If the night drags on, meet under the moonlight.”
“...Pardon?”
Topher blinked, then slapped both hands over his face and crouched low.
If the night grows long, come under the moonlight. A classic merc farewell. No fixed meaning—everyone's got their stories—but it resonated with every merc.
“Hah...”
His chest buzzed. A big lug like him using sappy lines? Cringe. But that's how he felt.
Not grateful she hadn't made him her piggy bank? Sure, that played a part... but not all.
One year on the run from Eden. Not forever, but he'd scrapped hard as a scavenger. Hearing old merc lingo now? Emotions surged.
“...Whew.”
Steeling himself, Topher stood with a resolute look.
“Ebner.”
“Huh?”
“Topher Ebner.”
Soo tilted her head, then beamed—getting why he'd dropped his surname outta nowhere.
Merc life tangled you in grudges; family often paid the price. Topher had hidden his name from the start. Maybe even changed it legally.
But telling Soo now? Meant family still in Eden.
“Family?”
“Yes. Westtown, Sector 8. Rough neighborhood, but my little sister's there. Miki Ebner. Bratty, but a good kid.”
“Yeah.”
Meet her? What then? Soo's call.
But Topher trusted her enough to spill. She'd repay that trust.
“Thanks for telling me.”
“Yes, ma'am. Safe travels.”
Soo waved breezily and turned away without a backward glance. If the long night stretched on, they'd meet under the moonlight someday.
“...Nngh.”
Soo pondered before the firmly shut iron door. She knew her broker-slash-illegal doc only opened when she felt like it, but a day off today? Figures.
Opened when cash ran low, closed after a quick haul for a month or two of lounging. No clue how many days she'd been off, but at least 24 hours of waiting guaranteed.
Soo scanned the surroundings darkly. No people... not that it mattered.
She was checking for sandstorms. None nearby—her face brightened.
No storms anytime soon. Door-opening time.
No hesitation, she gripped the handle—crunch-crack!—and twisted it open.
“Ha! Just waltzing in the front door? Ballsy as fuck. No more hiding, huh? Yeah?”
Her welcome?
“You think I'm some idiot who'll let you cunts take me nicely? Fuck off. You ain't prying shit from me, you goddamn roach bastards.”
“Oh.”
The broker-slash-illegal doc, Miko, shotgun barrel jammed to her own head.