From Mercy via email:
As you walk away from the chipper, you hear her call out, “Fragger.” Twenty steps beyond her you hear her call out, “Hey, you two chummers looking for some company? For fifty I do one, but for eighty I take care of both of ya. What do you say?”
You hear two male voices laughing. “What makes you think a chipslut like you is worth even ten? Come on, Jack, we can find better. Can you imagine that asking for fifty?” More laughter as you round the corner and head off to your place, which certainly seems palatial compared to the room you were just in. On the way, you get a near immediate response from The Sir, >>Congrats, kid. Glad the tip paid off. Triads, eh? Be careful there. Are you working for them or against them? I will see what I can dig up on those names. Out.<<
Once back at your room, you are startled to realize that so much of your life fits into a duffle. But it has been that way ever since you signed up. You have never owned much and so did not have much to lose when you left. Maybe someday you can buy up a property somewhere and settle down with someone you care about and………………….. The voice that comes to your mind to interrupt that line of thought is that of your first Senior DI; Gunnery Sergeant Miller. What a fragging sadist he was. “Stop that, Marine. If you were supposed to have a house and family it would have been issued to you. You have a mission to accomplish.”
The job is supposed to only take two weeks so you do not need to close the lease on this place. Looking around, you try to think if you have forgotten anything. No. Not much to forget about this place. Walking down the stairs, you see the cute blonde from the room next to yours bending down and talking to her kid. She might be a single mom as there never seems to be a guy around. You think her name is Doris, but are not sure. She stands as you come down and smiles at you. “Hey, neighbor, how you doing? Nice suit.” The woman looks to be in her mid-twenties and is dressed in the standard for this area; jeans, T-shirt, and sandals. Long blonde hair hangs down her back in a ponytail and she appears to be "athletic", which is man-code for skinny and smallish boobs, but her butt had looked pretty nice. The kid looks to be about six and is staring at you as you come up. She holds out a hand and motions to the kid with the other. “Name’s Dorcas, by the way. I don’t think we have really met except to say hello. This little terror is Mike.” She notices your bag and frowns a bit, “Not moving out, I hope? You’re a nice, quiet neighbor. Not at all like the last guy that lived there and I hate to think of who will take your room if you go. Always some sort of neighbor roulette around here.”