Zero Risk Security

Security

38 ZRS guards idled around, patrolling around a facility they were to protect.

The night was dark and not ominous for once, calm, somewhat quiet despite the bustling noise of the city.

One guard idled beside the chain link fence surrounded with Constantin wire at the top, armed with an M16 and idling around.

Denji and Power approached him from the other side of the fence.

"Hey." Denji said.

"Hey." The guard said.

"So what are you doing here?" He asked.

"What I'm paid to do." He said.

"Which is?"

"Sit on my ass." He said.

"What are you doing?" Power asked.

"Talking to you." The guard said.

"So what's Zero Risk all about?" Denji asked.

"Well, we're a company that gets paid to sit around and protect shit." The guard said.

"How much do you get paid?" Denji asked.

"Depends on the job but usually seven hundred bucks a day."

"Seven hundred!?" Denji asked.

"Yep." He said.

"Wow... how do you join?" He asked.

"Well, I used to be a soldier for South Africa for a while, Recces, actually."

"South Africa?"

"Yep, I joined Executive Outcomes first, another PMC, and after a few years, I joined ZRS." He said.

"How do you get in?"

"You need some military experience first. Or at least some law enforcement background."

Power glanced at the guards holster, staring at his handgun before her eyes shifted towards the patch embroidered on his chest.

The guard shifted his footing, briefly looking at his feet before looking back up.

"Yep. Anyways, I gotta go." He said.

"Okay then, good luck." Denji said.

"You too, Duiweljagter," He said.

"Huh?" Denji asked.

"Duiweljagter, devil hunter."

"Oh." He said.

"Take care." Said the guard before walking away.

"Cool guy." Denji said.

...

Another safehouse guarded by two ZRS guards by the front door of the apartment complex, both in beige pants and long sleeve navy blue shirts, armed with handguns.

Inside, dozens of ZRS and even devil hunters guarded the complex where a VIP was held.

On the fourth floor, guarded in room 134, a man in a suit was held, handcuffed and sitting on the couch.

The room was dark except for a lamp illuminating the room.

A ZRS sergeant stood in the far left corner of the room on the radio.

"CP, dit is Romeo een, gee my 'n ETA op ons escort." He said.

"Romeo een, escort is vir tien minute." The radio said.

"Kopieer dit, Romeo een uit."

The sergeant clipped the radio back onto his belt.

"So, who are you guys?" The captive asked.

The sergeant looked at the man.

The man glared back, mostly confused on why the guard was not answering back with a "shut up" or "be quiet" response.

"Well?" The captaive asked.

The sergeant turned to another guard and said: "Ek het 'n vertaler nodig."

The guard nodded and quickly left the room, appearing back a few minutes later with another guard.

"Repeat what you said." The guard said.

"Oh, I asked who are you guys." The captive said.

The guard turned to the sergeant.

"Hy het gese hy will weet Wie ons is."

"Dis dit?"

"Ja meener."

"Se vir hom om fie for still te hours en nie vrae te vra nie."

The guard turned back to the captive.

"Shut up and don't ask any more questions." The guard said.

"Or what?" The captive asked.

The guard turned back to the sergeant.

"Hy het gese of wat."

"Sit 'n sak Orr sy kop."

The guard next to the translator revealed a black sack and put it over the captive's head.

The radio cracked to life.

"Romeo een, escourt is eta destination seconds Berets Voorhees vir uittreksel."

The sergeant grabbed his radio, holding it to his mouth.

"Romeo een, Berlin voor vir uittreksel." He said.

Guards scrambled and prepared to move their captive, pulling him to his feet and dragging him through the hallways.

Once outside, several black cars stopped in front as they shoved him inside the third one, all getting in except for a few and quickly driving off.

The sergeant sat in shotgun, grabbing his radio.

"CP, dit is Romeo een, ons is op pad na die hoofkwatier, eta tien minute."

After ten minutes of careful driving, observation, and preparation to fight, they arrived at the Public Safety headquarters.

Once there, they dragged the man out and through the doors, inside and through the hallways to an interrogation room where Colonal Johan stood with Captain Jansen.

Once the sergeant set the man down, he saluted the two officers.

"Ontslaan." Johan said, sending the man away.

Johan sat on the table with Jansen in the far corner.

He pulled the bag off the man's head, and he looked around.

"Where am I?" He asked.

"Not in police custody." He said.

The man relaxed.

"So, who are you guys?" The man asked.

"Someone who you don't want after you." Johan said.

The man raised an eyebrow.

"Who?"

"So... you are yakuza, yes?" Johan asked.

The man did not respond.

Johan sighed.

"Okay, so, what we are going to do is this. You give me information and I will ensure you are not harmed." Johan said.

The man did not respond.

"The alternative is I let my friend behind me handle this and I get my information regardless. The choice is yours." He said.

The man glanced at Jansen before looking at Johan.

"So, who is your boss?" Johan asked.

The man did not respond.

Johan sighed before standing up and leaving.

"Jy het groot gefok." Jansen said to the man before Johan shut the door.

...