A tall, thin figure, cloaked in black, wandered up the dark alleyway on the outskirts of New Bellirad. The figure stopped when it reached a certain point toward the end of the alley, off of which to one side lay an indent in the brick wall which was large enough to hide a body or ten if the need was great enough. "Present yourself," a wispy voice came from under the cloak. It was masculine but not untowardly so, and it flowed like damp wind blowing gently past one's ear on a cool autumn night--comforting to some, chilling to many. A capped man in London attire stepped out from the space in the wall shouldering a rigid sports bag. The man was of average height, but the figure towered over him at least one foot. It lowered the hood and produced the slim, sharp-featured face of a man with pale skin and hair the colour of night. The shorter man fumbled his cap for a moment, avoiding the taller man's eyes, but eventually looked up into his hollow face, wondering the while how a man could be so thin and not collapse.<br/><br/>"You know, I could get into some trouble for this--if they catch me in the act, you know. It could be bad for me, you know. Bad for you, too." The man seemed nervous, but not overly so, and his bluff was called.<br/><br/>"You would have possessed these without my indications," the dark-haired man wisped, causing the other to shudder as if cold. "And I pay far too well for complaints." He extended his arm from beneath his cloak and drew out a small cardboard box, opening it to reveal a heavy wad of paper currency which he withdrew and presented fanned in order to display the value. He replaced it in the box, then, and handed it to him, taking in response the bag and opening it. He removed each assault rifle carefully and hooked it into a metal harness under his cloak. When every weapon was accounted for and effectively concealed, he handed the man his bag and tugged at his cape, adjusting it. "That will be all."<br/><br/>The man tugged his cap down, tucked the box and bag under his arm, and nodded to the other, then tucked back into the wall and disappeared. The cloaked man then replaced his hood and retraced his path, walking down several alley paths before ducking behind a large dumpster. Less than one minute  later, a woman with short ginger hair and a long tawny overcoat emerged from behind it and continued along her way.<span style="font-style: italic">That feels much better,</span>she thought, remarking on her height. Another half-mile, and an elf with fair skin and long, blond hair walked out of a pub. Yet another, and a dark-skinned drow with hair tinted violet crept into a manhole and vanished. Moments later, a changeling, white-haired and dark-eyed, entered her apartment through an alternative entrance.<br/><br/>She waltzed to a room with a latched door, whispered incoherently over the lock, and took out a key from her pocket, opening the door and then locking it again behind her when she entered the room. In a similar manner, she opened a large chest in the corner and removed her trench coat, exposing eight unused rifles of various makes and models. She quickly removed her harness and kneeled, exhausted from her long walk with the excessive weight of the guns. She unhooked each of them and placed them carefully in the chest, then locked it and hung the chain harness on a wall rack beside it. Another chest sat under the rack, which she opened. It was filled with enough wealth to supply a small army with assault rifles under the right market conditions.<span style="font-style: italic">But would firepower be enough?</span>She doubted it. She took out a small handful of coinage and tidied her disordering of the room before leaving it. A quick shower, a change of clothing, a few preparations, and she was off to work, a human woman of petite height with short, black hair and blue eyes, completely typical save for the concealed revolver at her hip and boot knives--one never knew what would occur on their average day in the city. Dresses in flared slacks, a short-sleeved blouse and an overcoat, she left for the office, briefcase in hand. Being a secretary was only dull business when there was no alternative.