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</div>Jazire Almaran could possibly have been a nice person if things had been different. If her parents hadn't been killed by an explosion when she was thirteen, for example - an explosion which almost killed Jazire, leaving her with one arm and one and a half legs, one eye and a burning hatred of the people who had allowed this 'tragic accident' to happen. Because it wasn't an accident, her parents were simply written off as collateral damage  by the government as it did it's best to put down the popular uprising on her home-world. Jazire had lived in an orphanage until she was eighteen and then had been thrown out onto the streets.<br/><br/>But while there she had learned stuff. She had found that a crippled teenage girl was always underestimated, and and she found that the system was designed to keep people in their place, but most importantly she learned that there were lots of ways to screw the system. And Jazire became an expert at screwing the system. Of course it wasn't long before she was caught, but as ever, people underestimated her. She played on sympathies for "The poor crippled girl", got off with a slapped wrist and a fine, which was a miniscule amount compared to the funds in her bank account.<br/><br/>She moved her operations then, worming her way into the dark underbelly of the interstellar civilization. Soon she was running her own organised crime racket and probably had enough to pay for regen surgery if she's so chosen. But she preferred the looks she got when people saw the cybernetic left arm and lower left leg. Her artificial left eye was capable of so much more than her original right eye.<br/><br/>And the unquenchable hatred for this so-called civilized society made her utterly ruthless.<br/><br/>Her limo pulled up outside Radius and her bodyguard, a three metre tall reptile-like creature with tentacles, slid out of the front passenger seat and scoped the area with her stalked eyes, the plasma tribarrel brandished in her tentacles as if it were a hand gun. Determining that the area was as safe as could be expected in this part of the moonbase, the V'zaxan opened the back door of the limo and Jazire slid out. "Thank you, Squil." She addressed the massive creature. She spoke through the open front passenger door. "Park the car and take a couple of hours break, Vin. Make sure you've got your drive-rites, I may need you in a hurry, but hopefully you will have time to enjoy yourself".<br/><br/>Vincella, Jazire's driver, nodded. "Yes Mam. Thank you Mam." The limo doors closed and the machine took off and vanished towards the parking garage. Squil grinned intimidatingly at the doorkeeper and ducked under the lintel ahead of her employer. The V'zaxan was incapable of vocal communication as all her species were, but instead used a form of tactile and visual sign language. She had, however, managed to learn to understand several languages, human and other. A wave of a tentacle at the bar and another at Jazire's preferred booth gave the staff all the information they would need. The human cyborg mob-queen made her way to the booth and slid in to the seat that put several tonnes of solid rock at her back and a clear view of the club at the front.<br/><br/>Squil settled onto a stool outside the booth, quite comfortable, her cannon resting lightly in her lap. Jazire smiled and used the processor in her brain that helped control her prosthetics to access her internal diary. She had an appointment in exactly five minutes, and it was just a question now of whether her appointee would turn up to the meeting.