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Chapter 4[]
Dead Man's Hand: Second Star to the Right[]
Outskirts, Bolson
Nox
Clan Wolf Occupational Zone
9th September, 3054
"Oh bollocks!" Joker berated herself as she held onto the wall for support.
The secret to not standing out was not trying to look like you're not trying to stand out. As such, she'd had little choice but to assume the guise of the Clan Wolf warrior that her drunken new best friend, Gregor, assumed she was. That had required drinking several shots of something that tasted like industrial lubricant, and listening to their stories of 'honor' and 'glory', fighting against poor bastards who'd never stood a chance. Even before the alcohol had taken its toll, she'd been more than a little confused as to just why they assumed she was one of their own, 'slumming it', so to speak, in civilian garb.
But it had been easier to play along, especially when they started to talk about the sudden and unexpected arrival of Natasha Kerensky.
That complicated matters somewhat, as while it was highly unlikely that the average Wolf knew her name or face, their leader evidently had it in for her, if Nathan Roshak and Henry Ngo had been telling the truth. She still had no idea exactly why the almost mythical Black Widow was gunning for her specifically: even sitting down with Kelso and going over her meeting with the Khan while playing possum on Tamar had yielded nothing.
Still, she now had an extra cover ID in her bag of tricks Elsa Wolf, newly arrived from the Clan Homeworlds as a replacement MechWarrior, still waiting for her assignment. She just hoped that she would remember the ad-hoc legend she had concocted for her new alias in the morning. Spending most of the day going shot-for-shit with a bunch of gene-tweaked super-soldiers, with their no doubt superhuman livers, had certainly taken its toll, and it had been all she could do to slip away from the group when they insisted on making their way back to the barracks together.
Had she failed, the best she could have hoped for was a drunken fumble with the very handsy Gregor, assuming he wasn't too drunk to perform, and at worst, put up against the nearest wall and shot as a spy.
Her only option now was to make it back to the hidden DropShip, sleep off what was no-doubt going to be a killer hangover, and come up with a new plan. Unfortunately, of the entire crew, she was the only one who stood a chance of passing as a local. Both Kelso and Aung had the wrong skin tone... although the latter could probably pass for an Elemental if they got hold of a uniform, and Scilicorn couldn't have pulled off the accent if you held a gun to his head. No, the only chance she had of reuniting Pettersson with his kids required her direct involvement, regardless of the increased risk.
"Come on now, Elsa girl." she told herself sternly as she forced herself to stand something approaching upright, "Don't want to disrespect the uniform."
She allowed herself a giggle at the joke, before realizing that she wasn't alone in the alleyway.
"Where you going, Wolf Bitch?" a voice asked as sunlight glinted off of metal, "Why don't you come play with us?"
Oy-vey...