The little bell by the door jingled softly as a newcomer entered the bar, sounding somewhat tired and rusty, as if it hadn’t seen much traffic in the past few years of its life. The opposite was true though: despite the less-than-savory appearance of the little building, it happened to be one of the hotspots in town; that is, if you were down with the low-life of the city. Normally on a weekend, this place would be packed to the brim with people from all walks of the city, having a drink, socializing, and occasionally stirring up trouble. Today though, only a few patrons populated the dingy little bar, each claiming their own respective space amidst the sea of empty chairs and booths. As the door swung open to admit the newcomer, it was accompanied by a crude catcall from out on the street, which was abruptly cut off as the door swung shut once more with another jaded jingle.
The person who entered turned out to be a young woman who appeared to be in her mid-twenties, apparently somewhat unfamiliar with the neighborhood she found herself in. It was not hard to see why she turned so many heads though: she looked as if she were from the upper-middle class, dressed in light khaki slacks and a smart, form-fitting blouse of a shade between rose and burgundy. Her features were angular and striking; a fair complexion framed by chocolate-brown hair, off-set by a pair of strikingly blue eyes. All-in-all, it was quite easy to see why she caught all the attention she did, simply by walking down the street. At her feet padded a Khimera with an exotic patterning across her pelt, who shared that same fluid, feline grace as her mistress and even seemed to wear the same look of regal dignity, minus the innocence. She followed her mistress to a deserted table, settling herself comfortably at the young woman’s feet, bladed tails flicking lazily as golden eyes took in their surroundings and the people around them.
The young woman, Astraea, had that sweet, vulnerably innocent look about her as she walked into the bar, glancing around curiously at the venue as she made her way towards an unclaimed table. In fact, there was a
lot more to this pretty face than met the eye; the set-up, her whole guise, the reactions she got from passersby, they were all intended. She had a job to do today, and this was her way of getting it done. As things most often went, she was on the hunt for a particular
someone today, thanks to the client she had just met up with earlier this morning. She’d been told that this was the place to find him, and thus, here she was. Today, she was playing the bounty hunter, and currently, she was seeking out her quarry, based off of the tip provided by her client. Knowing the sector she was headed into, she’d intentionally gone for the ‘inconspicuously conspicuous’ look, whereas a less-experienced person would probably have aimed to blend in. Every so often, one of the richer folk would wander into these parts of town, and without a doubt, they always drew a lot of attention and turned a lot of heads, especially when they happened to be an attractive young woman such as herself. This was exactly the effect Astraea was looking for: if you were looking for someone in a place where all of the scum looked pretty much identical, it helped if people gave you a clear look at their faces for identification purposes. Plus, no one ever remembered the random, lost individuals who occasionally wandered through the town, so she could as good as vanish afterwards.
So, as she walked in to all of the various looks she got, Astraea simultaneously surveyed her audience with a quick, unnoticeable glance. Ah, so he
was here…the man she was supposed to bring in ‘preferably alive’. She wasn’t the kind of person to botch a job, so if they wanted ‘alive’, then they would get ‘alive’. He was currently sitting alone at a table, apparently relaxing, enjoying the evening off. Something felt a little…off about the whole situation though. Not only had it been far too easy to find her bounty, it also seemed like he’d been waiting for something as she’d walked in. Strange. Not to mention the fact that the man was a Clone (she did a discreet double-take to check – yes, definitely a Clone, she’d recognize that face anywhere), yet he didn’t work for the GAR. Even stranger. Despite the funny feeling her gut was giving her, creds were creds, and the client was offering a
lot of them, so she didn’t question her assignment. Choosing a table a little ways away, she settled down to observe her target over a cup of coffee, which she ordered from the surly waitress. She watched him discreetly out of the corner of her eye, should it so happen that he was watching her as well, for whatever unspoken purpose. For now, she would bide her time to avoid underestimating, or overestimating, her target, and wait for an opportunity to present itself to her.