At a taco stand in the middle of nowhere, while she enjoys a mesquite grilled triple-alarm ostrich taco with all the trimmings, HellBabe is interrupted by a messenger imp, who pops up in a cloud of foul-smelling vapor...<br/><br/>And halts in alarm as it finds itself looking down the twin barrels of a sawed off shotgun wielded by the proprietor!<br/><br/>"It's okay, Luis," HellBabe mumbles around her mouthful.  "He's prob'ly here for me."  She wipes her mouth and turns to the imp.  "Brother Luis, here, is a member of the Order of Saint Cecil.  You know.  The Inquisition?  So those are probably blessed slugs in his shotgun.  You have thirty seconds, pukeface."<br/><br/>The imp squeaks in alarm.<br/><br/>"Ahem!  From Her Infernal Impressiveness to the Lady..."<br/><br/>Brother Luis growls, his finger tightening on the trigger.  The imp sweats.<br/><br/>"Errr...skipping the formalities, rumor has it that your quarry is in Lost Vegas.  That's all.  Bye!"<br/><br/>The imp vanishes in another puff of smoke, far less sulfurous.  Scarfing down the last of her taco, HellBabe stretches and yawns.<br/><br/>"Crap!  I<em>hate</em>Lost Vegas.  Too damn many Elvis impersonators!"<br/><br/>"You're going anyway?"<br/><br/>"I gotta.  I'm on a misson from Mom.  Thanks for the chow, Luis."<br/><br/>"De nada, senorita!  I still owe you from that time with the guy and the thing and I've never forgotten."<br/><br/>Laughing, she heads back for her bike, kicks the starter, and roars off toward the distant city.