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Technical Difficulties [[Themandii/Eyesoffire]]

T

TheMandii

Super-Earth
Joined
Jun 6, 2010


"Today, it has been reported that the infamous hacker-terrorist Queen-Bee has rigged the main Jupiter space-gate with explosives, causing the entire structure to collapse. Officials are saying it might take several months to repair the highly extensive damage. The interspace Security Bureau is offering 10 million Creds--"

Bianca touched the holo-remote for the television holo-monitor in her ship's cockpit and grinned widely. "Another day, another dollar." She murmured, docking her ship, aptly named Yellow Jacket, at the nearest rest stop. She shoved the key fob for her ship in her bra and strode into the bar attached to the hotel she aimed to stay in. She was confident, too confident, that there was no way she'd be caught by the authorities. She was too meticulous in covering her tracks! There was no way any fed, cop, or bounty hunter could find her--no one even knew what she looked like.

The building was dingy and dank compared to the hacker's appearance, wearing a crisp white jacket and tight black jeans & boots with barely a scuff on them. She surely attracted attention, the 20-something female was easy on the eyes, too. Long dyed blonde hair and big brown eyes and full pink lips only added to the baby-faced 'innocent' look. She was slender, but didn't seem to have much muscle to her--probably from her long hours sitting behind a holo-monitor. She sat at the bar and ordered a large glass of Moon Wine, some of the strongest stuff anyone could ask for. The barkeep nearly questioned her order, but when she dropped a few extra Creds on the bartop, he shut his mouth.
 
His finger ran over the holo-remote, eyes taking in all the details quickly. Nothing seemed to impress him, most were all small fry's, worth nothing more than a few thousand credits. Clark frowned, pointless, the scum of the galaxy weren't refined criminals anymore, there was no class, no thought behind their works. Clark gave the holo-remote one last flick in hopes that he might find something, anything.
His hopes were not unrewarded. His eyes caught 'Queen bee,' 'Jupiter space-gates,' 'explosives,' and '10 million credits.' That was a bounty, that was something worth hunting for. This one was different from the rest, this one was smart enough to hide under a name, and not a blatantly disgusting one at that. So many criminals today preferred to be murderers and fascist lords over a single, tiny colony rather than show how weak all of society truly is. Queen Bee seemed to want to do just that, or at least Clark thought.

But then he sobered, Clark turned to look at his reflection in the glass of the cockpit. He had youthful yet angular features, his head was covered in short, dark hair that was usually messy. He had an athletic build, taught muscles that ran down his arms, chest and legs. Though he wasn't a beast of a man, more lean and agile. He usually wore blue jeans, with a small bandoleer hanging on his hip, not so much a belt. Attached to one side was a holster where he kept his main weapon, a handgun with a few modifications.
His torso was covered with a dark green shirt, atop which he wore a black jacket, which could be described as slim-fit.

Hie eyes continued to stare at his reflection, wondering if he'd get her, or the beast would. There was a reason Clark could handle big-bounty game like Queen Bee, he had an unusual set of assets that were rare in the galaxy. He finally looked away and got his ship on course, his pride and joy, the Cerberus, named for the mythical beast due to the three canons situated on the front of the ship. Very few ships escaped his cross fire. He headed to Saturn's space gate, it seemed perfect for him, he wasn't even tat far from Jupiter. Clark went through the gate and took on an immense amount of speed. He'd be near one of Jupiter's moons in 10 minutes.
 

And on that same moon was the rest stop the Queen Bee was hiding in plain sight. In addition to being entirely too close to her own work, she was awaiting another job, but had not been told who she'd be receiving it from, except that it was a younger man. A handsome one, she'd hoped.

The Jupiter Gates might have been her own work, if someone hadn't offered her 1 million Creds to do it first. Out of nowhere, a 'representative' for a group called the Red Hands approached Bianca in one of her usual haunts, a night club on Terra-Station 6. He'd handed her half in advance, which really showed that these people meant business. Immediately after the gates being destroyed, a small battle cruiser ship intercepted her course to the moon she was on now, and the rest of the money was transported to her. That's when she'd heard about her next job, but not yet what it was.

Halfway into that tall glass of Moon Wine and she'd begun to feel tipsy enough to unzip the jacket, revealing a very low-cut tank top underneath, which was white like her jacket. Some of the other patrons--and the bartender--took note of the extreme amount of cleavage she was showing, but no one approached her, not yet. They were waiting until she got drunk, it seemed. Bianca was no fool, she'd wanted them to notice. As if bored, she took out her comm device and browsed the web, killing time.
 
Clark remained on the Cerberus, cycling through the information that was already revealed about the bombing on the space gate. The time it happened wasn't too long ago, the perpetrator might have already fled. But then again, they'd have to get to another moon just to find another space gate, it might take a while, certainly longer than 10 minutes. So they might still be nearby. But what if they were closer than expected, purposely nearby just to play with authorities. Clark pursed his lips, this perp would be smart, no doubt it was the Queen Bee, bombing the gate and getting away with it so cleanly was enough to clarify that. Clark went on his instincts, they'd served him so often in the past, he knew he could rely on them now.

He docked Cerberus at the moon and walked into the space port, pointing at a janitor who was eyeing his ship. "Be good to her." He said, walking past him. The janitor only blinked in surprise, as if Clark's words had brought him out of his trance. He entered a bar, the quality of which was not worth noting. The place seemed run down, though not totally. The kinds of people he expected to be there were present, large, fat, smelly oafs who thought they ran the place. A depressed person, sipping gingerly from his glass, always choosing the music that brought everything down, Clark knew the bartender liked him the best. What caught his eye was a woman in white, she was totally out of place, clean clothes, almost shining in the dreary air this bar gave off. Seemed like she didn't care about who was around her, her jacket unzipped and her attention on the comm in front of her. He noticed her drink, moon wine, seemed like she wasn't kidding around with anyone at all.

Clark found a place opposite the woman, his table about 30 feet from her seat. He ordered a drink from one of the waitresses and leaned back, relaxing in his seat, just observing the place. His next move, that was what was on his mind, he needed to understand the Queen Bee better, would the perp stay...or just flee?
 

In the reflection of the casing on her comm, she took notice of Clark's entrance to the bar, but since he didn't sit next to her, Bianca knew that he likely was not the contact she'd been awaiting, just another passerby. A shame, she thought, because she'd have liked to do more than business with a rugged looking man like him.

A slight smile came to her face, just as someone sat next to her. Indeed, it was a gentleman in his late 20's, wearing simple black and gray clothes, leaned over to kiss her cheek and slipped something in the pocket of her jacket. "So good to see you again, but I can't stay long," He said.

She smiled a bit, playing along and setting her comm down. "Off to work again, sweeting?" She asked, tilting her head. Her accent was distinctly European, possibly British or Scottish.

"Indeed, but I've got time for a drink with a pretty lady." He nodded to the bartender who set a beer in front of him. Some of the other patrons were suddenly less interested, it seemed she had a date, after all.

They maintained small talk for nearly 10 minutes, before he got up, beer unfinished, and bid her farewell. Upon his exit, she sighed a little, playing with the Comm again.

"Boyfriend?" The bartender quipped, taking the unfinished beer and dumping it.

She looked up at him with a smile. "Oh, you could say that." her tone was knowing, though most would have assumed that he was just her fuck buddy or a drug dealer with her tone. The drug dealer bit would certainly explain their odd meeting place, and him reaching into her pocket--if anyone had even caught that little exchange.
 
Clark has looked up to see the man sit beside the woman and plant a kiss on her cheek. Still a little odd to be meeting for a date in a place like this. He squinted at the couple, but raised the glass of beer he'd ordered to his lips and tilted it, allowing some of the amber liquid down his throat while peering over at the couple. He noticed many inconsistencies between these two and a normal couple. She hadn't hugged him, or responded to the kiss other than a smile, and though Clark hadn't heard the man's words, he knew that he wasn't exactly being the good boyfriend. He hadn't touched her hand or laughed much with her. He waited until they finished, that was when the biggest sign came, when the man left there was no kiss, no goodbye, not touching like when he first entered. That, more than anything else, alerted Clark. These two were something else. To the rest of the patrons in the bar that first kiss would have confirmed the fact that she was his own, but Clark had hunted couples before, and he knew how they acted.

He waited an extra five minutes after that man left the bar and then got up and walked over to the woman. "Heineken - bottle." He said calmly, not even looking at the woman, Clark did register the bartender's expression. "Yes, I like my classics." He smiled and looked sideways at the woman. "Can you blame me?" The bottle slid down the width of the counter and into his hand. Clark gave him extra, a bit more for the unfinished drink he left on the table.

She was too refined to be in a place like this, she seemed to exposed here, as if everything she stood for was written on her jacket. Yet, she was comfortable staying here, it proved she was dangerous. Clark pulled out his comm and flipped through it, wanting to make conversation with the woman he said, with a sigh, "Can't do anything fun around here, anymore, now that that space gate got targeted..."
 

When the attractive man she'd noticed before approached the bar and spoke to her, asking her if she (or anyone) could blame him for liking old-fashioned swill like Heineken, she merely smiled politely. "No, I suppose not." she drawled, looking back down at her Comm.

When he mentioned the gate, Bianca went on full alert, but didn't show it. She put on her absolute best worried face. "Ohmigosh, you're so right. My zipcraft ran out of fuel while I was trying to get to the gate earlier. Had to repair the fuel pump too. Guess I got lucky!" She smiled up at the bartender, who murmured in agreement. She sipped her Moon Wine again, but there was still a little less than half of the glass left. "Hoo boy, David," She said to the bartender. "It's been a blast and a half, but I'm exhausted.." She giggled a bit, leaving a handsome tip on the counter. "See you tomorrow." She smiled at Clark. "Sorry to cut our chat short, cutie, but I need my beauty sleep."


She stood, shoving her hands in her pockets and paused for just a moment, feeling the item that her contact had slipped into her pocket. A data key. For what, she wondered? All in that split second, she turned and walked to the stairs toward the back of the bar and upstairs to one of the rooms, where she could relax, at least for a bit. Even if Clark questioned the bartender about her presence, she knew he'd cover for her--from those nice tips she gave him.

The room was probably the nicest one, not nearly as run down as the bar was--it seemed that the motel-type rooms weren't used as often as one might think. Most travelers forwent paying for a room when most had the ability to sleep in their ships anyway. She locked the door and sat on the bed, taking the data key out of her pocket and turning it over and over in her hand. "What the hell could be on this..." She murmured.
 
"Shame..." Clark said, taking a pack of cigs out of his breast pocket and placing one in his mouth shortly before lighting it with cupped hands over his lips. "...let a blond like that go to waste, eh David?" He said, eyeing the bartender as if that was really his name. Clark didn't care about the rules, smoking or not, he was going to light up. It calmed him down, what was going to happen next would have probably gotten anyone's blood up, but Clark couldn't afford to let that happen, he wouldn't let that happen. Circumstances changed drastically if he let himself go.

"Thanks for the Heiney" Clark said and stood up, placing more money on the counter. He popped his collar, no use having anyone see his profile while he was going to ask 'David' a few questions. He pulled out his weapon, but kept it concealed under one side of his jacket. He angled it so that it was pointing right at the bartender's head. "Tip's not going to help you keep quiet when this is involved." Clark said, pointing to the barrel of his weapon. He knew the games, almost all of them. She leaves right when he says 'space gate,' slips the bartender a huge tip. She was making it too easy. Maybe it was a trap, regardless, this woman had something to hide and Clark wanted to sniff it out.

"Hands on the counter, nice and slow. I really don't want to kill you, but no one here is going to stop me...except you." He smiled a little. "I'm just asking for the truth. Easy as that." He gave the bartender a chance to breath for a bit, letting him digest the situation. "S'right...stay calm, no need to shout. Alright, ready? Here, we, go. That girl, you know her? Does she come here often? Your name, is it really David?" He watched the bartender quietly but began speaking before he could answer any of her questions. "First answer those questions...then give me the keys to the rooms upstairs."
 

He paled when he saw the gun, and quite visibly so. No one seemed to notice their exchange. David did as he was told, having been in this situation before, he learned that if he stayed quiet for a tip every time he'd have tied 20 times over by now. This time, though, he hadn't expected the man to have a gun, and he'd never had to rat out a woman before, let alone a young and innocent type. "I--I...I only just met her today," He replied in a hushed voice. "She's never been here before, told me the same thing she told you, I even have the records for her maintenance from our docking guy. Said it was the only reason why she was staying, so she was going to wait for her friend to visit her. A---And yeah...I'm David." He trembled a bit. "Y--You're not gonna hurt her are you? She's just a kid..." He hesitated to give Clark the key, but eventually handed the master keycard over.

Meanwhile, Bianca was readying herself for some sleep, she hid the Data Key in the lining of her jacket along with the key fob for her zipcraft. Her story was too authentic, she'd even taken some extra time and hacked the man in charge of the station's Dock's diagnostic computer to make it seem as though she really did have those problems. She was willing to pay a small price for the big payoff. In her purse, Bianca had some sort of modified pistol to shoot sleep darts, never wanting to kill someone who was right in front of her. It was so much easier to simply hit a button than it was to pull a trigger. She took the gun and slipped it under her mattress, then changed into something more comfortable. She removed her clothes and slipped into a loose tank top and some shorts and pulled her hair back in a loose ponytail, her clothes, jacket, and bra all lay in a surprisingly messy pile on the chair.

The hacker would never have expected anyone to suspect her, but that's what happens when you're wanted by the ISB for blowing up the system's largest Space Gate and killing around 30 workers who were near it. She felt no guilt when all she did was hit a button, but still took comfort in the fact that no civilians were killed.
 
"See, that was easy." Clark took the master key from David. "Whether I hurt her or not is dependent on how she decides to handle the situation." He gave the bartender one last nod and walked towards the room, the key in one hand, his gun in the other. Clark had decisions to make, and fast, he knew that too many other people would notice things if the situation went crazy. He slid the key into the lock of the first room and found it empty. The second had a couple sleeping in it, the third had a man getting ready for bed. Clark was running out of rooms fast, and he couldn't just keep sticking his head in and looking around, she'd see him, and make a move, urging him to talk, shoot or chase after her.

He came to the last room and stopped before swiping the card. The door was a lot cleaner than the others, clearly this room wasn't used often. He paused for a moment and took a breath, he needed to be level-headed about all of this. The cig, still held between his lips, burned red for a moment as he inhaled. The smoke gently, and in an uncaring manner, rose to a nearby vent. He'd keep things calm, quiet. Clark swiped the card and pushed the door open, entering the room and holding the gun before him.

He spied her on the bed and turned to face her. Then lowered the gun a little. "Had to make it all a little confusing for me, didn't you? Signs so clear they seemed like you'd revealed them on purpose." Clark said, stepping forward. "Hands where I can see them, missy." He took another step. "You know, you're one lonely queen bee. Shame you've got no workers with you." He grinned. It was best to make it seem like he knew who she was, even if he was just guessing. If it turned out he'd gotten it all wrong then he could just dump her somewhere and sever all connections with the woman. But right now, he had her just where he wanted her.
 

Bianca bit back some choice curses and instead gave a bit of a squeak in surprise, an embarrassed flush spreading across her cheeks. The hacker's reaction was of true surprise, the kind you simply cannot fake.

She raised her hands slowly, but not before holding up her pillow in front of her chest. A very annoyed frown on her face. "I have no idea what you're talking about. If this is your idea of a joke, or some kind of way to get between my legs you've got another thing coming!...Isn't queen bee the name of that terrorist who blew up the gate?"
 
Clark nodded, with an understanding frown on his face. "Yes, that's true. And I understand that you may be surprised and possibly scared at what is going on at this precise moment, but you can, at the very least, be rest assured that I'm not trying to get between your legs....as...tempting as that might be." He meant it only as a compliment, she was attractive, there was no way Clark was denying that. "Besides, I wouldn't want to come between you and your boyfriend out there."

Clark leveled the gun at her chest. "Now, if I can explain myself, my aim here is not to kill you...well I aim to kill with the gun but-you know what I mean. Since you're my suspect and really have no way to defend yourself why don't you just get up and walk out with me. I'll get your things and we can head to the nearest police depot to see who the hell you really are." He shrugged, "It really is that simple."
 

"But, you can't do this! I haven't done anything wrong." She scowled at him some more. "My dad was a cop, I know my rights, Mr. I-think-it's-a-good-idea-to-barge-in-on-women-trying-to-get-some-damn SLEEP." She played the part of an angry mildly-educated woman quite well. Meanwhile, in the back of her head she was devising several escape plans. She sighed heavily. "Ugh. Fine. If you really think that I'm this psycho bomber, then take me to the depot. There's one on this moon, and there's one about 30 minute's flight from here on a space station."

The funny part was, her father (who passed away several years ago) was, in fact, a police officer before he was killed in the line of duty.

"Just tell them that I'm Bianca Chevalier, and that my dad was Trevor Chevalier, and they'll laugh in your stupid face." She sneered, setting the pillow down. She didn't give a damn about the gun pointed at her at this point, she was too annoyed with the inconvenience. "All of my stuff is on the chair...But can I please just change first? Or at LEAST put a bra on?"
 
Clark lowered the gun and walked to the chair she'd pointed out. He took her stuff and walked to the door, not leaving the room. "You've got two minutes." He said before exiting and closing the door behind him. A stupid bounty hunter was one that didn't learn from his mistakes, and Clark certainly had. He was chasing an individual known as The Cowl, he was known fro single-handedly taking over a city and holding everyone hostage. Clark had cornered him in a building and The Cowl had requested that he be allowed to gather his items and come with him to the authorities. Clark allowed him to do so, but The Cowl had armed himself with a gun from his bag. Needless to say Clark lost control at that point and couldn't collect the greater half of the bounty for bringing in The Cowl alive.

He wasn't going to let Bianca do the same thing.
 

"Thank you.." She murmured quietly, a wide grin spreading across her face as he exited the room. What a fool, she thought.

It was a shame for Clark, that he didn't check under her mattress.

Queen Bee smirked and quickly dressed in her regular clothes, leaving the pajamas on underneath. She tied her hair back more tightly, dart-pistol in hand, and waited by the door, gun at the ready.
 
Clark waited for two minutes, thinking that he was going to have to be certain that he was going after the right person. Any data pads or coms would tell him that once he was able to access them through his ship's computer. He had waited long enough and opened the door to come face to face with Bianca's pistol. Clark stood there for a moment, her bag still in hand. He reached up and pulled the butt end of the cig from his lips and threw it on the floor.

"Seems fair." He said, "I did this to you...but now you've only confirmed my suspicion." He grinned and spread his arms, dropping her bag on the floor. "Go for it. I found you once....I'll just have to find you again."
 

She smiled. "I think it's cute that you think I'm the Queen Bee, but you're wrong--Though, that doesn't mean I'm not a bad girl." She smiled, aiming her dart-pistol at his chest as she crouched to grab her bag, picking it up. "If you chase me, I will kill you. This time, You'll only go to sleep...Good night, cutie." She shot him with the sleep dart. She quickly side-stepped around him and walked backwards until she reached the stairs, then turned and calmly, but quickly, trotted down the steps, then to the Yellow Jacket, and off to her safe-house on Mars. It would take her 3 days to get there.

One Week Later...

Bianca lounged on her bed playing with her comm, scanning the system for her mystery man. The day she reached her safe house, she uncovered the data key, and hacked into a government system, bringing it down for an entire 24-hour period and altering the records on her file as well as the files of hundreds of other wanted hackers and terrorist-types who work for the Red Hands. The Data Key contained firewall bypass codes, passwords, personal records of high-ranking members of the ISB, all of which she kept records of.



 
Clark grunted as he felt the dart pierce his chest, breaking the skin and stinging him. The chemicals worked fast, he could feel his eyelids getting heavy, the need to sleep consuming him quickly. He stumbled a bit and feel to the floor, falling into a deep sleep the moment he hit it.
He awoke with everything still on him, the dart lying a meter away.

One Week Later...

He was coming back from meeting a specialized dealer on Earth, Clark docked on the moon and went through the conversation they had and the records the man had given him. The dart contained high levels of drugs used to give people a good night's rest, the same found in Nyquil. The dart itself was streamlined and small, tiny enough to fit through a keyhole. Clark had brought it to the dealer on Earth, who examined it closely and told him that he knew of a woman who specialized in these things. She was on Mars. The records indicated that the minuscule serial number upon the side of the dart showed that this but of ammo had been bought a week and a half ago.

Clark moved off soon after hat and landed on Mars in 2 hours. He moved to the colony that the dealer had told him about and walked into the biosphere, looking around. He found the place and inquired about a woman named Bianca Chevalier. He described her features, the woman said she'd come here from time to time, buying the sleeping darts. Clark thanked her and walked out to a info port on the side of the street and looked up the name 'Bianca Chevalier.' It was clear to him that while dealing with clients the Bianca wouldn't use her real name, but when owning a property she could use her name for such a legitimate reason. He found it, a place owned by her on Mars, not even a 15 minute ride away from the building.

Clark smirked and took the Cerberus, docking outside her door. He walked to her house and knocked as any normal visitor would.
 

She raised a brow, having ordered takeout about 20 minutes before hand, and she answered the door, comm in hand, wearing a low-cut blue sun dress that reached her knees, hair hanging loosely about her shoulders. "Wow, that was fas---Oh." She sighed. "Didn't I tell you to leave me alone? I don't have time for two-bit bounty hunters who don't get that I. Am. Busy. Do I have to spell it out for you? I'm not the person you're looking for!"

Behind her, a view of a rather lush apartment could be seen; cutting-edge entertainment systems, beautiful furniture and decor, and a beautiful view of the city from the sliding glass doors that lead to a cozy balcony.
 
"Just a normal girl carrying sleep darts made in only one place in the system, containing some of the most potent relaxants?" Clark said, pushing himself into the house. It did look nice, but he wasn't here for that. "If two-bit bounty hunters can track you down twice then maybe it's you who is the amateur." He looked around for a second, then back to Bianca. "Buying this place with your real name was your first mistake, one of many, I'm sure. The second was leaving the dart behind." Clark shrugged, "You did make it too easy."

"I gave you a week to relax, get things settled and sort out what your next job is." He walked towards her. "Call me generous and everything, but that time's up." He took her hand by the wrist, holding it tight. "I'm not going to be so gentlemanly if you keep pushing this, and things could get messy if you're not careful." He locked eyes with the woman. "You'll need more than a sleeping dart to put me down if that happens, much, much more."
 
"Ugh, Please, I've been using this apartment for years. And the sleep darts are for protection against psychos like you. I don't think that's very unreasonable--to protect myself from potential rapists. For all I know you're not even REALLY a bounty hunter, you could just be stalking me for whatever disgusting reason." She'd been through that before, and wasn't about to deal with it again. When he grabbed her wrist, that was when she started to see red.

"Let go of me, you--You jerk!" She growled, yanking at his grip, then resorted to pushing him, comm still in hand. She decided the best course of action was to take drastic measures. That, and she was furious that the pizza man would be there any moment and she was hungry. Hell hath no fury.


"That's it. You want the truth?" She snarled, looking up at him. "All I have to do is say the command code and this entire building will blow itself all the way to fucking Pluto. And if you gag me, I have dozens of control panels hidden in and around this building. Now, if you play nice and let me wait for the pizza guy, I won't kill you, me, and everyone else in this building, comprende? I'll even let you have a couple slices, and we can talk this whole thing out like civilized people. No sleep darts or whatever." She, instead of pushing him away, tried to pull him into the apartment now. "Come on, before the neighbors see you... I don't really want to kill the nice old lady down the hall, man...But anything's better than the alternative."
 
Clark walked into the apartment, but never removed his hand from her wrist. He shut the door, kicking it closed. "Good, I like a little danger myself, kick up the circumstances, make things heavier. It's all fun and games isn't it." He had no doubt she was the Queen Bee now, or at least someone with lots of secrets to hide. "So you've given yourself away, the whole bomb thing, fine. I'm prepared to die." He held up his hand, still clutched around her wrist. "Are you?"

"Pizza can wait, I'm pretty sure I take priority here." Clark kicked a chair towards he from the able and pushed her into it, it was clear he had strength on her. He stepped back and pulled out his pistol, aiming it at her head. "You're cheeky, it's sometimes fun, I like that. But I doubt you'll ever find anyone more stubborn than I am. It's my nature. So let the pizza guy come and take a look at us, I don't care at all. You tricked me once, you're not going to do it again."

Clark was running out of patience, sure it was slowly doing so, but he knew that eventually he'd tire of hearing her. "Blow this place up, I dare you, go for it. Say the damn words, kill me, and yourself and the old lady down the hall. I really don't care. You're coming with me either way, to the police station or to whatever hell there is."
 

"So stubborn that you'd rather die than give me a chance?? I'm not the bad guy here, I just hit the buttons, really." Bianca sighed. "Do you really, really want to die? I have no problem with it, myself, but do you really want to die? I could say the words, but I won't if you tell me honestly what you want." She flipped open the comm, looking down at the small holo-display. "You know, letting me in my apartment was a terrible mistake on your part. There are about 10 different booby traps here, and I could easily kill you then run away again. No one will ever find me then." She closed it again, laying it on her lap, then used her free hand to run her fingers through her hair, as if frustrated. Bianca couldn't believe that someone had found her out as being Queen Bee, had never expected herself to panic this way because she'd never even been close to being found out before now. Before this man. She realized now that her arrogance wasn't backed up as well as she'd thought.

Bianca was beautiful, vibrant, probably younger than Clark at least by a couple of years. Her face didn't look like that of a killer's, slightly rounded in shape, smooth and sweet looking. Now that she was still, one might notice the dress a bit more, which had tiny flowers embroidered all over it, or the swell of her breasts in the low-cut style of it, her supple thighs, pressed together in her ladylike manner of sitting now the the dress had snaked up higher on her thighs from him not giving her a chance to sit properly. Her deep earthen brown eyes looked up at him now, saying nothing for a few moments. She looked past the gun, past his gruff demeanor, her eyes steady on his, as if she could see everything in his soul.

"What's my bounty, 10 mil? I could match that and give you things the government can't..." Her smile was small, coy. "I also believe you will only get the bounty if you bring me in alive, and there's no way I'm letting you do that, Mister."
 
Clark softened a little, lowering the gun by less than a centimetre, it didn't look like much from the outside, but to an observant individual like Bianca, one could certainly see that Clark's thoughts had changed. He ignored the talk about the booby traps in the house and watched her quietly, even tilting his head to the side ever so slightly, like a dog looking interested at something. "You can match the price?" He eventually said, still a little sceptical. Sure, it was something so many others had said to him in the past before he'd taken them in, but something was different about Bianca. He somehow believed her. To him, she seemed strangely calm and confident in the situation, perhaps that was what was different? Most people were begging for their lives when they offered him more money. In a way she was as well, but she wasn't on her knees, sweating and crying like the others.

Clark lowered his gun, but didn't holster it. She had his attention in the matter. "You're lucky my profession isn't one based on morals." It was true, everyone was really in it for the money. Those who lived long enough in bounty hunting always looked to turn a profit, not to make a different in the universe. Clark smiled at her, "Not the smile she'd seen earlier, a result of some act, but an actual genuine smile, as if he'd found a joke. "Then again, neither is yours."

Clark's hand tightened around the gun a little more. "So, about the money, let's talk details."
 
"We can talk all of the details you want, cutie. I've got the cash, you just have to accept it." Just then, the intercom for her door buzzed. She continued to look at him, and stood very slowly. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. And I won't run. You can even follow me to the door, just hide the damn gun. People here talk way too much and they all know me." She walked, slowly, to the door, cred-card in hand. She exchanged pleasantries with the delivery man and paid him, then sent him on his way, easy and quick. The pizza smelled good, and she set it down on the table.

"You sure you don't want some?"
 
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