<strong>Name:</strong>Marchosias<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Zed, Ayr, Jessamyne<br/><br/>While never one for getting into firefights himself, Marc looked impressed, or at least amused, as Ayr went through his presentation and showed off a bunch of custom rounds. "Mind if I keep this as a sample?" the Nephilim boss asked as he picked up the Ripper round and slid it into his pocket, figuring it might come in handy later tonight. "I guess we'll see tonight if your arms are really as good as you say they are. I'm sure there'll be a few people who show up that need your help loading up," he said with a grin. "Hope you brought more merchandise than just four bullets. Oh, I don't suppose you have anything that works well against dwarves and beastmen?"<br/><br/>Leaving the question rhetorical, Marc finally turned his attention to Jessamyne, the lovely tattooed elf who had cut off Ayr's presentation. As he gestured for the archon to join him and Zed at the booth and relax while he spoke with further applicants, a fairy waitress in a red leather miniskirt came gliding up the stairs and set a large glass of clear alcohol in front of the boss, then checked if the other three wanted anything to drink before disappearing back down to the main floor. "So you're security, assassin, thief, all rolled into one?" Marc asked Jess, taking his drink and putting one foot up on the table. "Tell you what: you already met the head of my security staff, the kitsune kid. If you're that good, you should be able to steal the gun off him and bring it up here, no?"<br/><br/>---<br/><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Orc Bartender<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Jugo<br/><br/>Orcs didn't have a reputation for being one of the smarter races to live in Middle City, but the bartender was no moron. A man dressed like Jugo, of Japanese descent, painted up like that, had to be a member of the Kiyaburo Brotherhood, if not the head honcho. While Marc had dealt with the Brotherhood very little during his time with the Fallen, since they acted more like a subsidiary than an actual part of the demonic gang, he and all his staff knew better than to be trusting when one of them showed up. For the second time that night, the orc found money being pushed in his direction to be exchanged for information, but this time, he pushed the hundred dollar bill right back and leaned heavily on the counter. "I don't know her story, but I'm sure yours is better. What do you want with her?"