Michael R. Yorkmizer was the latest in his families line to take up the mantle of Guildmaster. After the death of his father Darius B. Yorkmizer, the responsobility of maintaining the system that protected at least a quarter of the known world fell to him. Thankfully, he was good at his job. A new town had recently reached out to them for protection, seeing as the local Warlord had started demanding not only money, but also their children as tax. That was about the point most towns came to the Guild.
The offer was the same. One squad of mercenaries, sent to establish the town as protected. They would get everything free and would stay for one month, at which point they would send a report if more was needed and return if the town was secured. Michael was sure they only needed a week, but tradition was tradition. So he had gathered the best of those that had just finished their "Formative Years" as the Guild called them. The training and trials that made the toughest fighters out there.
They would be grouped together in garage 6, where a semi-truck waited with the Guild's logo painted on the side. The paint wasn't chipped. This truck was new. Their weapons would have been locked up in the armory right now. No guns were allowed in the compound unless you were on guard duty. It didn't stop some members with slick hands, of course. There was a little time until they were to pack up and be sent off to their first real job. Time to get to know the team, it seems....
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