"ALL PERSONNEL, LARGE SCALE INCURSION OF RIFT BIOFORMS IMINENT. ETA 10 MINUTES. THIS IS NOT A DRILL."

I look up from the crafting table in front of me where a wolf dog hybrid has been dissected and skinned. The bloody pelt has been rolled up and place to the side of the table so I can work freely on what's left of the carcass.

"Mann!" My supervisor, a broad shouldered oldster dressed in the standard issue black coat and brown slacks, shouts, "Orders are in. General Staff are being told to get ready to fend off the Bioforms. The rift is not playing around this time."

"Phoenix Guild has the Combatant Department." I reply as mildly as possible, hiding my annoyance from my boss, "Why can't they handle it? It's their job."

I stab my knife into the wolf dog carcass and slice upward, releasing a flood of blood and offal. Plunging my hand into the gory mess, I pull out the bioform's heart. There's a subtle warmth to the inert organ, letting me know I've hit the jackpot. No scratch that, I'm just one step closer to meeting my quota set by the guild.

Harvesting crafting material from Rift Bioforms is unpleasant but necessary work, so the Guild set up a quota system for the General Staff. Our pay would be brutally docked if we could not keep up with harvesting the carcasses brought in by the Combatant Department. Which was why I'm getting so antsy right now. Fighting Bioforms wasn't part of the brief. My paycheck isn't big enough for me to put my life on the line.

"You're an accredited Rift Sorcerer, right?" my supervisor doesn't let up, "I remember that from your file."

"I, uh, passed the basic test." I look about nervously as the ruckus begins to spread throughout the camp like wildfire, "I know a grand total of two spells. Two."

"Meaning you're a Rift Sorcerer." my supervisor nods in satisfaction, "Get going. Phoenix Guild needs your strength."

"But, but ..." I begin to stutter at how matters were deteriorating, "I just have this knife. And my two spells. I've not even fought Bioforms before."

"Hardly anyone in General Staff has combat experience." my supervisor shrugs, "Stop dragging your feet, Mann. We really need everyone that can fight this time."

"Yes Sir." I sigh in resignation and begin to march off to wherever the Guild 'needs my strength'.

"Hold up." my supervisor suddenly says, "Take the crafting material on the table with you."

"What for?" I ask, mystified. The PA system warbles in the background, repeating the same warning ad infinitium.

"Go to the quartermaster. He trades stuff under the table." my supervisor looks worriedly at me, "You won't survive in the state you're in. Just don't tell anyone you got this connection from me."

"Thanks boss." I say sincerely, scooping up the bloody organs and pelt from the table. Wow, somebody does care. I never expected this small kindness with how money grubbing the Guild usually is.

Case in point being how the Guild equips us. The lesson that's hammered into everyone's head during the first day on the job is simple. Phoenix Guild is not a charity. It exists to make money. And that means maintaining the staff is a cost that the Guild is always looking to reduce.

All staff are equipped to the bare minimum standard needed to do our jobs. And when I say minimum, I mean minimum. Like, everyone knows the Rifts are dangerous. And this one is classed as an A-1 Rift. That's on the level of 'you will die horribly if you go inside unprepared'. And what equipment did the Guild issue me with?

A knife.

My standard issue jacket and slacks. Granted they've been treated for rugged use, but that's not going to stop a Bioform clawing my intestines out.

My casting focus. A basic, student level casting focus so that I can unleash the full glory of the two, TWO, spells at my disposal.

What anything better? Buy it from the Guild. We don't have time for freeloaders, y'know.

I'm so fucked.

Making it to the Quartermaster's tent, a shabby affair surrounded by containers of all sizes, the nondescript older man staring into the distance abruptly notices my presence and looks at me expectantly.

"What can all this get me?" I immediately push my armful of crafting materials at him. The Quartermaster merely smiles ruefully.

"Cash only. Sorry. Guild policy."

"Oh c'mon!" I snap, the pressure getting to me, "I know you're selling. I want to buy. Like now. Before the Bioform incursion."

"Just joking." the Quartermaster smirks, "Once you've been into as many rifts as I have, incursions lose their excitement. Trust me."

"Do you have something I can buy or not?" I demand as more and more of my colleagues scramble toward the entrance of the camp. Officers bellow orders, trying to keep order.

"You're too late, son." the Quartermaster remarks, "All the good stuff has already been taken. Not that you could afford it anyway."

"And the crap stuff?" I begin clutching at straws, "That's still for sale right?"

"Damn straight." the old man turns around and reaches into one of the containers before tossing something at me, "Enjoy."

"This is shit." I curse at the old flak jacket in my hands. This piece of junk was probably made before the Rifts even started showing up all over the planet. It might, if I'm lucky, stop a Bioform's attack. If said Bioform was having an off day. And was a cripple. And wasn't trying too hard to kill me. The flak jacket however absolutely won't stop radiation, battle magic, curses and all sorts of other nastiness that became common with the arrival of the Rifts.

"Take it or leave it." the Quartermaster shrugs, "But my advise? Every little bit helps."

"Thanks. I think." I stop complaining and busy myself putting the flak jacket on. The piece of crap is light at least. Small mercies.

"Rift Sorcerer, huh?" the old man remarks, noticing the black diamond patch on the lapel of my jacket.

"General Staff Rift Sorcerer." I scoff, pointing to the Phoenix insignia on my sleeve. Anyone who didn't qualify for one of the specialized departments wore the Phoenix insignia by default. A one size fits all designation for most of the Guild's employees.

"Tough. I heard most candidates for sorcerer barely pass the exam." the Quartermaster starts rummaging about his crates again.

"Alex Mann, General Staff Department, Sorcerer third class." I perform a mock salute, "At your service."

"Save the introductions until you actually survive what's coming." the Quartermaster snorts as he passes me a small crystal, "On the house."

"You sure?" I ask, but my hand snaps out in a blur, seizing the tiny crystal as if it was solid gold. And it might as well be, given the circumstances.

"I like repeat customers." the Quartermaster waves my question airily away, "But if you want to pay me back, you can do it when we get back to Crossroad City."

When we get back. Yeah. I will survive this incursion. The old man's rambling voice seemed to contain a kind of confidence that everything would be alright. Fishing around my jacket, I pull out a string of red prayer beads attached to a fist sized metal cube. My casting focus. Squinting slightly, I twist the cube, opening it up and revealing a fine network of crystals and circuitry nestled within. My eyes scan the ensemble, landing on the set of conspicuously empty sockets.

Carefully sliding the Quartermaster's crystal into one of the expansion ports, I watch it lock itself into the circuitry before shutting the focus's casing with a click. That should do it. My two (!) spells should be that slightly more effective now. I coil the prayer beads around my left hand tightly, letting the focus itself hang loosely, ready for action. My right hand draws the knife, the familiar grip offering some reassurance.

"You look ready. Stay safe out there." the Quartermaster gives a lazy wave as he wanders into his tent.

"ALL GENERAL STAFF FORM UP BEHIND THE COMBATANT DEPARTMENT. SUPPORT STAFF SHELTER IN PLACE." the camp's PA system directs.

No wonder that old guy was so relaxed. He didn't need to fight at all. The news isn't all bad though, at least General Staff Department isn't going to be first into the fray. With luck, the Combatants will deal with this incursion while we twiddle our thumbs in the background.

Did I just jinx it? Nah.

Joining the torrent of humanity moving toward the frontline, I arrive safely ensconced in the mass of other Guild employees. One face out of several hundred. The exploitation of this new Rift was a priority for Phoenix Guild after they had won the exploration rights through a fierce bidding war against the other big guilds present in Crossroad City. How this expedition fared would determine whether Phoenix Guild could make that money back. That's the reason for the unusually large number of Combatants around.

As well as the presence of two Captains.

I whistle quietly as the pair of Captains march up and down our line, yelling out maxims about how we're going to win and show the Bioforms what for. Captains are all experienced adventurers, 'A Ranked' as the lay person would say. Veterans of countless expeditions into Rifts of all kinds and kitted out in expensive and potent gear. Fully prepared, a Guild Captain would be like a force of nature.

"Do you best OK?" one of the Captains claps me on the shoulder, his ridiculously peppy voice interrupting my thoughts.

The Captain's plate armor literally sparkles with Rift power and is adorned with over elaborate embellishments. He's even wearing a helmet shaped like a tiger's head that obscures his face. A massive double handed sword is strapped to his back, its girth so massive it would probably take the strength of several mundane men to lift it. The abiding throb on my shoulder tells me that this guy has enhanced strength, the hallmark of a Warrior. He's experienced too, considering how much money he must be making to even afford that load out.

The Second Captain merely nods in silence at me, a pair of pistols holstered to his waist. Long black hair slicked back coupled with sharp features give the man a predatory look. His face is ridiculously fair and smooth, a stark contrast to the pair of calloused hands hovering about, ready for action. A Gunslinger then. Relies on hitting and moving in battle. Doesn't mean our man's not protected though. That's high end liquid body armor I see on the second Captain's torso.

Our chances of surviving go up exponentially if these two get involved.

I've got a good feeling about this.