2016.05.23.

The rules: Each installment is based on reader input. The next installment is based on the most upvoted comment (but I get bonus points if I can work other comments into it). This is the beginning of the story.

Since characters are the result of public suggestions, they're released into the public domain. Artist retains ownership of the art and visual designs. Art is left rough to allow later revisions.

This is installment 1/?. For the full index of installments: http://imgur.com/gallery/zUXA5

You are the leader of a group of mercenaries in a dystopian future. Let's say... there are four or five of you, even though only three are at this meeting. Maybe the other two are providing support from sniper positions. Maybe they're at McDonalds. Maybe they're passed out drunk. Reliable help is hard to find in the average dystopia.

You're in the midst of negotiating a job with a particularly diminutive client. They need you to take care of some business- the sort of business best suited to ruffians like you and your comrades. Or maybe something horribly suited for you. We should probably figure that out.

Whatever it is, your bearded comrade is skeptical. He senses that the client isn't telling all the details.

Not that deception would be at all unexpected. Clients who're forthcoming are rarely the ones that hire armed mercenaries. You're the instrument of unseen agendas. It's not the role of the instrument to read the sheet music. The role of the instrument is to get played.

Actually... that metaphor is sort of disconcerting. We'd better not think on it too hard.

Regardless, the client needs to know if you're going to take the job.

Questions
A: What happens next?
B: What does the client want your team to do?