The moon was a sliver of polished bone hanging in a deep-velvet sky, and the streetlights cast long, shivering fingers of amber against the wet pavement. The distant, rhythmic hum of the city was a low counterpoint to the close-knit percussion of crickets. A sudden gust of wind rattled the windowpane like a frantic ghost. In the stranded deserts of Badlands, there is a base, filled of 9 lead-poisoned mercenaries. It was only a regular night, they were about to go to sleep until Miss Pauling, their assistant and assistant of the Administrator, called out to all mercenaries for a meeting at the meeting table. They all gathered around the big, round table. Scout then asked.

Scout : "So, Miss Pauling...why didja' call us all over here?"

Miss Pauling : "This is very important, Scout. Just listen up, okay?"

Engineer : "Sure, we'll listen. Go ahead."

Miss Pauling then cleared her throat, suddenly dragging a blackboard, pulling out a chalk and write down some stuff on the board. The mercenaries were curious, some even uninterested but amused.

Miss Pauling : "Okay, listen up. We're low on money and we need more. The Administrator decided that we are going on a money heist. We might have to go rob on various locations. Any questions?" She asked, shooting up a brow as she'd glance at every mercenary around her.