Luke stood on the sidewalk, across the street from a busy Bucket O'Cluck fast food restaurant, almost doubled over with laughter. The 'tracer had led him halfway across the city, and Nirvana indicated the trail led here. Or more accurately, to the dumpsters around back. He straightened up, shook his head with a smile and wiped a tear of laughter from his eye.<br/><br/>"Classic...I love this guy!"<br/><br/>Luke leaned against a traffic light, waiting for a lull, then shuffled across the street into the restaurant. At the counter he ordered a Number 3 special with extra Buck'n'Cluck sauce, then moved to an open booth near the back of the dining room. As he tore into his meal, he discussed matters once again with Nirvana.<br/><br/>'So, anything on Sir Lancelot and his brother?' A projection of Nirvana appeared in his visual cortex, sitting across from him in the booth, and she shook her head discouragingly. Her long black hair glittered with a million speckles of light, and the markings beneath her iridescent blue eyes glowed and shifted like lightning.<br/><br/>'Nothing. Whoever they are, someone's gone to a lot of trouble to keep them off radar. I did get a few hits on the other two, however. Your boy Frosty was a hired gun, a merc named Joren-unknown if that's his first name or last-and as far as I can tell, he was hired to capture or assassinate the one named 'Isaac'. It looks like he has a contract with one of the local syndicates, but the records are buried under too much security. Apparently, he's one of the best. A real heavy hitter. One hell of a rap sheet, too; it seems the agency has laid more than a dozen high profile assassinations at his door.'<br/><br/>'Whew. Here's hoping we took him down a few notches.'<br/><br/>'Definitely. As for the agent, all I could find on him was a name and department. Agent Jayden-again, I can't be sure if that's a first name or surname-assigned to the Department of Nexthuman Affairs. Promoted recently, but it's standard practice for agents' files to be wiped when they get assigned to the DNA. He's got quite a record, too; nearly a dozen commendations. Oh, and it seems he got to cut the ribbon on a local grocery store opening, isn't that special.'<br/><br/>'Alright, enough. Open a line, put me through to Marcos. I'm definitely raising my price; this is worth way more than 50K.'<br/><br/>Luke sipped at his soda as Nirvana hacked a telecomm satellite and routed a call to Adrian Marcos' office. Not for the first time, he thanked whatever was listening for the advent of neural implants as he thoughtspoke with Marcos while forking down his chicken dinner.<br/><br/><em><strong>~200 Miles Southwest~</strong></em><br/><br/>"Luke, I didn't expect to hear from you this soon. Do you have her already?"<br/><br/>Marcos' jaundiced face ran pale as he took in the freelancer's report. "Protected? By whom?... No, she shouldn't have been under watch from anyone, nobody even knows she exists! How the hell...!"<br/><br/>The old man eased his overweight body into a luxuriant leather chair as he stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "Well...do you think this fellow means her any harm?...Is that right...I see..." Laughter erupted from the old man, his belly shaking to and fro as he leaned back in his chair. "Luke, my boy, it seems fate has an even more twisted sense of humor than you do...Yes, yes, of course...Well, I suppose you'll have to make contact somehow...No, of course not...No, if they find out about her, they'll surely kill her...No, in the meantime, let him do the heavy lifting...just keep a watch on them, and..." A heavy sigh escaped the old fellow, and he nodded absently. "Yes, of course...quadruple the fee...anything for the best, my boy...Very well...I'll be expecting updates...Very good. Good hunting."<br/><br/>Marcos disconnected the call and turned to stare out the expansive bay windows of his office, and absently fingered an old silver locket that dangled about his neck as he stared out over the nightscape...<br/>