Klaus Metzer. Hero's teaser.

I was in the middle of nothing. Sand, part of some kind of metal frame and me. That's all that was in this distant part of nowhere. And since sand and metal frame pieces never qualified for something in my book, there was nothing around me. Well, maybe except my bike. At least what was left of this piece of junk bolted and wielded together randomly.

It began its hard and tiresome working life as half-rotten frame wrapped around rusty, although kind of working V-Twin. Well, this engine, that worked on a prayer, was the single part that never changed. Everything else was in constant state of chaotic repair-slash-rebuild. Well, that's beside the point, as, judging  by the way it behaved today, it may have been its last trip before wheeling off in the direction of road heaven.

Have I already told you, that my life was an exclusive, thoroughly designed pile of crap? Oh, I have? Do not really give a fuck. I am something of supercharged carrier pigeon, meaner and nastier version. And I swear. Profusely. A lot. And I do sexually harass women. Sometimes. Name's Klaus Metzer.  To be honest, I would've liked to say that I was a known man, but that would be bullshit. I was only one of many courier boys, who made rounds around this world in response to information urges and necessities of rich and powerful of this piece of earth. And this time around, the will of rich and powerful demanded that I stayed at this nowhere place and waited until the message is taken from me. Shit, how long must I wait?

Sound of engines, carried by vibrations of the heavy air, have arrived to my ear. Three figures have jumped from the car, that looked like a prêt natural hybrid of tractor and jeep. First two swiftly made sure that the nowhere is clean of surprises, third one came to me and outstretched its hand. I should've looked dumbfounded, as it shook the outstretched hand, hurrying me up to cough up the info.

-Hey, man, that's no way to make a deal. Show me the money, then demand the stuff.

This also was left without any commentary. Well, if you don't count two guns that took my head for a target.

-OK, Menschen, if you need it this much, I am willing to part with the parcel for not being shot at. People die from this, and all that jazz.

Having achieved what it wanted figure took decently sized bag from behind its back and threw it beneath my feet. Then, all three of them made the swift escape to the jeepotractor, or tractojeep, make your pick, and made the swift escape. By the way, there was an address attached to the bag.

-Well, dress me in a fucking tutu and make me dance ballet! It just never gets better, does it? Fuckedy fuck, how I hate those multi-step delivery combos.

I have already told you about what piece of shit my job is, haven't I? Fuck it.