Three Months Ago...

"Two Am..", he muttered to himself.

The lone figure leaned heavily against a stone wall which surrounded Tir Arena, his original apprehension turned to sheer boredom. Fog had rolled in, giving the quiet city an eerie quality in the darkness. Starting like a voice in his head, he strained to listen to a sound. Nodding to himself, sure he heard footsteps, he cast his head down, letting the hood of his cloak hang low to hide his face.

He waited, listening to the steps closing in. He nearly jumped when he saw the pair of boots stop in front of him, but this was the routine he'd done five times now.

Don't look, he reminded himself. Keep your eyes down.

An open bag grasped in a pair of slender hands appeared in his line of sight. He studied the contents and nodded. He reached out for the bag, eyes still not meeting hers.

She whispered, "I expect payment within eight hours. This is the last time I work for you off the cuff."

She shoved the bag into his hands and disappeared instantly.

The neon sign glowed brightly, "The Happy Rebel". She walked in, said hi to her favorite bartender, ordered whiskey and a bottle of water then sat down, rubbing her lower back. After some chit chat with the atrox bartender, she moved to the much more comfortable sofa in the corner and put her feet up on the table in front of it and relaxed, sipping the cool water.

"Visitor, clan..." the atrox called across the room to her.

Taren got up and moved to the bar, back to a wall, pretending to be in the middle of a conversation when the door slid open and the figure stepped in.

A tall, lean man stood in the door way a moment. He looked at the two chatting away and smiled.

"Whiskey, my friend." he said to the bartender and sat down three stools from her. The atrox looked up, obviously wanting to correct the man on the "friend" comment, and glanced her way before pouring a glass and setting it in front of the man.

"You do good work..." he said aloud, obviously not talking to the bartender.

The opifex woman ignored him.

"...some of the best i've seen, or at least, among the best."

"You talking to me?" she replied. "...because I don't know what you're talking about."

"We've watched you for about a month now. You always deliver, you are fast and you are smart." he smiled as he finished the sentence, still not looking at her.

She glanced up at Bart, who had begun to inch his hand towards a club he kept under the bar, and shrugged slightly.

"Look, lets get down to business. I need things delivered to clients. You can get those things. Cut is seventy thirty..." he said.

Deciding to drop the facade, she replied, "Why such a small cut for you? Most headhunters want to settle even."

He smiled softly, "...because we do not tolerate failure" he paused, letting the implication sink in. "We get the contracts and take a small cut. You're taking all the risk so you get more of a cut. We just need to keep our clients happy...but of course, we do make money other ways."

"What kind of product are we talking?" she asked, a little intrigued.

"All kinds...", he then looked at her, his piercing eyes meeting hers for the first time.

Unimpressed, she returned the stare.

"Contracts are taken at your leisure, but we will call on you when something needs to be done immediately. Start any time, stop any time. Up to you. Just remember, if we send you after something, you had better deliver." His smile faded, he looked away and took a sip of his whiskey.

"Seventy Thirty..." she said out loud, more to herself than to him. "if it seems too good to be true, it probably is."

He laughed to himself and pulled out a credit chip and slid it across the bar to her. "Twenty million. A retainer for your services. Remember, in when you want, out when you want."

The bartender seemed to stagger a bit and she did the best she could to hide just how impressed she was.

With that, he stood and finished his whiskey. Setting the glass down, he asked, "Deal?"

She nodded to herself and said, "Sure. I'll start tomorrow. Send me a contract."

He smiled again and said, "Thanks. I hoped you'd get in."

She sat at the bar for a long time after he'd left, twirling the credit chip in her hand, talking with the bartender before leaving a generous tip and going to start a new day.

"There is no way. The acquisitions officer gave explicit orders not to endanger you with this one. He's going to send a team."

"Oh come on Morgan. Why?"

"You operate efficiently in your range. This one may be out of your expertise and we can't lose you."

"Well..."

"...i'm afraid that on a personal level, I can't let you do this one either."

*laughter* "Morgan..."

"Please don't press the issue, Taren..."

"...Morgan"

"Yes?"

"It's already done. I'm delivering it tonight. Tell Acquisitions that the contract has been fulfilled."

"...how...you know something, i'd rather not know. Sending the coordinates for my location to make the transfer."

"Your location?"

"Yes, this equipment is dangerous, as you no doubt know already. We're not going to trust a mule with it."

"So we'll finally get to meet..."

"It seems that way."