Soren received her answer quickly.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">â€œNo one in here is Joseph yet.â€</span>Said the relaxed man. He then looked to the young blonde boy.<span style="font-style: italic">â€œHey gremlin sheâ€™s cute and guessing from the fact that she was invited here Iâ€™m sure she can give you a decent fight. Just what you like.â€</span><br/><br/>Sorenâ€™s demeanor darkened almost immediately, though her expression did not change. Her hand drifted along the narrow sheath of her long sword. Her golden eyes smoldered slightly in irritation.<span style="font-style: italic">...Cute?</span><br/><br/>All of a sudden, another entered the increasingly cramped room. The small girl had to sidestep out of range of the door to let the man through. He passed her, and Soren got a whiff of straight sewage.<span style="font-style: italic">Nice.</span>He appeared hurt, swollen, bruised, bloodied, battered, and limping. She identified the injuries with the swiftness and skill of one whose job was to inflict them.<br/><br/>The man muttered to himself, sitting down with winces and gasps of pain. Soren frowned, waiting. The man quickly informed them of his identity: this was Joseph.<br/><br/>...Soren honestly thought about leaving. This was her employer? She didnâ€™t make a habit of doing jobs for men who smelled of shit.<br/><br/>But he wasted no time getting to the heart of the matter: money. â€œNow before any of you ask, yes I am Joseph, and the reward for you completing this assignment is enough money to have your limbs re-grown organically at least once.â€<br/><br/>Sorenâ€™s eyebrows rose. That was quite a sum of money he was promising... Perhaps she would stick around. At least to hear him out...<br/><br/>â€œYour target is an unknown creature it has killed several skilled mercenaries and even whole platoons of men. We figured it was best to call in the strongest people we could find and that would be all of you.â€<br/><br/>Leaving. Definitely. Leaving. It wasnâ€™t that the young girl was scared, but she wasnâ€™t stupid. A group of people, assembled to kill something other groups (like them) had already been killed trying to do just that? Thereâ€™s a word for this... What was it called...? How did it go...?<br/><br/>Oh, yeah.<br/><br/>Stupid.<br/><br/>â€œAny questions?â€<br/><br/>Hell yes.<br/><br/>Which way is the door?<br/><br/>â€œYeah so what the fuck is this monster youâ€™re speaking of, does it have a specific hunting ground or prey? What CAN you tell us about it?â€ asked the relaxed man in the corner, no longer looking very relaxed.<br/><br/>â€œAt the moment nothing, nothing human or machine has come back from looking for it. All we know is that itâ€™s attacking our supplies and only our supplies. We want it dealt with before we go bankrupt.â€ Joseph answered nervously.<br/><br/>Soren didnâ€™t go after mysterious<span style="font-style: italic">creatures.</span>She went after other sentient beings. She went after criminals, enemies of the state, murderers and robbers and frauds. If there was a bounty on it, she would go after it.<br/><br/>But she was only 16. She had her whole short life ahead of her! She had no death wish to speak of.<br/><br/>Soon one of the women, the one with the orange hair, leapt up and stood front and center, drawing all attention to herself. Soren quirked a slim blonde eyebrow. She quickly exclaimed her utter refusal to participate.<br/><br/>â€œWhy should I help you when I should be helping my village with their problems? I have enough to do back home.â€ She told Joseph vehemently.<br/><br/>Soren remained impassive.<span style="font-style: italic">Yeah, and my family is counting on me to pull my weight 24/7. We all left something behind to follow this letter.</span><br/><br/>â€œAnd why would I want to be associated with these ruffians? I can't imagine a thing in common with the lot of them.â€<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">How about a species? Thereâ€™s that.</span><br/><br/>â€œ I can't abide all of this negative talk and environment......â€<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">What? Will it give you indigestion?</span><br/><br/>Soren was growing more and more irritated. Her fingers did what they did when anger built up: her index finger tapped rapidly against her thumb nail, the pace increasing until the breaking point. She stood motionless, as equidistant from the closest room occupants as she could get.<br/><br/>Then the orange haired woman began glowing. And usually, when shit started glowing, Soren made for the door. The woman glared at each of the roomâ€™s occupants, including Soren. The girl in question stared back as if looking at the most boring thing on the planet. The woman got to the boss man, pulled out something from a â€“stylish-  fanny pack, and started chanting some gobbily gook Soren had no chance of understanding.<br/><br/>Soren wondered what the strange woman was even<span style="font-style: italic">doing</span>here. She clearly wasnâ€™t from this place. What with the â€œruffianâ€ talk, as if those who were from the slums were beneath her. Perhaps the reservations? The nature places? Or whatever it was her cousins called them. Soren had a feeling it was<span style="font-style: italic">a lot</span>better there. It wasnâ€™t the type of place Soren expected to see in her lifetime. She had been born in filth, grown up in filth, and would die in filth. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it.<br/><br/>Soren also eyed the youngest of the males. He only cracked her own miniscule height by a few inches. He didnâ€™t fit in either. He had an aristocratic air about him, even if he was young.<br/><br/>Soren looked down at herself. Her frayed hooded gray sweater and threadbare black skirt. The scuffed work boots on her feet, and the bulky flight helmet on her head. Her long golden hair was split at the ends, and had been cut by kitchen shears by her grandmother. She felt lowly. She felt like the pleb she was.<br/><br/>What did she have to lose again...?<br/><br/>The room grew hushed, waiting for some answer to something. But Soren didnâ€™t wait, and interrupted with her soft, monotone voice. â€œI accept the job.â€<br/><br/>Thatâ€™s right.<br/><br/>She had nothing to lose.