I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

The convoy of vehicles glided to a stop before what could only be described as a fortress disguised as a mansion. Thunder and Viper pressed against the tinted windows, their eyes widening at the sight. Unlike the decaying structures that dominated Area 52's landscape, Raxus's establishment stood as an evidence to power and influence.

Towering walls of reinforced metal rose at least four stories high, their surface treated with some kind of material that seemed to absorb the harsh glare of the wasteland's perpetual haze.

Strategic placement of energy shields created a subtle shimmer in the air – beautiful but deadly. Guard towers were positioned at each corner, staffed by figures in advanced combat gear that made standard Enforcer equipment look like children's toys.

"Holy shit," Thunder breathed, his professional composure cracking for a moment. "This isn't a house, it's a goddamn fortress."

Viper's cybernetic eye whirred as it tried to process all the security measures. "Those are Enforcers-grade defense systems. The kind they use to protect Noble's residences. How did he..."

Even Xylar couldn't hide his impressed reaction. "You've done well for yourself, old friend. Very well."

Raxus's laugh rumbled through the vehicle. "Wait until you see inside."

The main gates parted silently, revealing a courtyard that put most noble estates to shame. Artificial waterfalls cascaded down walls embedded with bioluminescent crystals, creating an ever-shifting play of light and shadow. The ground was actually covered in real grass – a luxury almost unheard of in the wasteland.

Guards snapped to attention as they passed, their respect for Raxus evident in every movement. These weren't mere hired guns – they moved with the precision of an elite military unit.

"How did you manage all this?" Xylar asked as they stepped out of the vehicles.

Raxus's smile held a predatory edge. "Let's just say certain individuals who opposed my vision found themselves... removed from the equation. The wasteland has its own rules, after all."

The interior of the mansion exceeded even the exterior's grandeur. The entrance hall soared three stories high, its walls lined with screens displaying real-time information from around Area 52.

Holographic art pieces floated in strategic locations, their images shifting in response to movement. The air was clean – properly filtered, not just recycled like in most wasteland buildings.

Thunder let out a low whistle. "Makes some of those Astorian noble houses look like shacks."

"Nobles," Viper scoffed, his voice bitter. "Been so long since I've seen anything but prison walls, I'd almost forgotten what luxury looked like." His hand unconsciously touched the prison tattoos visible on his neck.

They were led into what Raxus called his "casual" sitting room – a space that could have hosted a small diplomatic summit. The furniture seemed to be actual leather, another rare commodity in the wasteland. A servant appeared almost instantly with drinks in elegant crystal glasses, the liquid inside black with swirling red highlights.

"Fair warning," Raxus said, taking his glass. "This isn't your standard Astorian or Drakorian whiskey. The wasteland breeds its own kind of poison."

Xylar didn't hesitate. He lifted his glass and drained it in one smooth motion. The liquid burned like liquid fire, but he didn't even flinch. Raxus's eyebrows rose appreciatively.

"I see prison hasn't softened you," Raxus remarked.

A cold smile played at Xylar's lips. "If anything, it's had the opposite effect."

Thunder and Viper were less successful with their drinks. One sip had them coughing, their eyes watering behind their masks. The liquid seemed to burn all the way down, leaving a taste that was somewhere between metal and spice.

"Fuck me," Thunder gasped. "What is this stuff?"

"Something we brew down here," Raxus replied, clearly amused. "You'll get used to it. Eventually."

His expression grew more serious as he turned to Xylar. "Now, old friend. What kind of business brings someone like you to my corner of hell?"

Xylar set his glass down. "A bounty. One big enough to change everything. One that Blackthorn placed."

"Blackthorn's involved?" Raxus's voice carried a note of distaste. "Man's got more credits than sense, and he's not known for playing fair with his contractors."

"There won't be any rough play between him and me. If he dares, I will have a reason to kill him and take all his possessions — and no one will question me for that." Xylar replied with a harsh tone.

Raxus smiled, lazily tracing the rim of his cup with a finger. "And who exactly did he place the bounty on? Why come here?"

"His wife and her slave," Xylar explained. "Word is they're down here somewhere."

"Blonde woman, goes by Matilda—" Raxus started.

"You know her?" Xylar's eyes narrowed slightly.

Raxus nodded, something flashing briefly in his eyes. "Seen her around. Been spotted with the Governor lately." He paused, and Xylar caught something in that hesitation – a slight tension in his old friend's jaw. "Though not recently. Her or that Slime Boy she keeps around."

Xylar leaned forward. "Any chance you could help us locate them?"

There was another pause, longer this time. Raxus stared into his drink, its red swirls reflecting in his focused eyes. Something passed across his face – an emotion quickly hidden, but not before Xylar caught it. Interesting.

"Of course," Raxus said finally, his voice perhaps a touch too casual. "Even if we have to turn the wasteland inside out. What are old friends for?"

"Speaking of the wasteland," Xylar said carefully. "We'll need a way out once we have them."

"Nobody leaves Area 52," Thunder muttered. "That's what they say, anyway."

"They say that because they've given up," Xylar countered. "But with the right resources, the right connections..." He looked meaningfully at Raxus. "And enough credits from the bounty, disappearing becomes possible." Continue the journey with m-vl-em-py-r

Raxus sat back, studying his old friend. The room fell silent except for the soft hum of the air filtration system. Finally, he nodded.

"That sounds like an almost impossible task," Raxus said, taking a slow sip of his drink. "But first, you'll need to find the bounty before you even think about escaping."

"We'll start with the Governor," he added. "Man's got a loose tongue when he's drunk enough. Might know something about where your targets disappeared to."

As they discussed initial plans, Xylar watched his old friend carefully. That hesitation when Matilda was mentioned... there was a story there. One that might complicate things.

But then again, when had any of their jobs ever been simple?