[center] [h1] The Loft [/h1] [/center] 

The mechanical doors glided apart, opening up to the alleyway which lay beyond. After some time stumbling around in the dark, Nisvillia was greeted by a the sharp glare of Outpost 57's overhead lights. 

She took a few waddle-like steps out into the open, covered in sweat and splattered with dried blood, before making her way over to the back entrance of the Loft, and venturing inside. 

It was a small, quaint little establishment; with both roulette and drinks tables. The club was designed to have a laid back, relaxed atmosphere which was accomplished by the lush furnishings and dim lighting. The Loft smelt of booze and synthetic air fresheners, but not to an intrusive or overwhelming capacity, and the central heating kept the club at a warm, welcoming temperature.

She made her way over to the counter, ordering a glass of Amasec and a Snow-Ox burger, before whizzing upstairs to her room to get changed, exchanging a curt nod with one of the card dealers on her way up. 

Her rented quarters were stylish yet practical, mimicking the overall tone of the Loft, and it did not take her long to strip down to her underwear and toss her stained clothes in a heap on the floor. She plodded over to her wardrobe, gigantic stomach spilling out over the waistband of her undergarments, and fished out a classy yet low-cut black and white dress, which she had some difficulty squeezing into. 

Fixing her hair into an elegant bun, and applying the odd smattering of makeup here and there, it wasn't long before Nisvillia slipped back downstairs, presenting a far more presentable appearance.

Her meal was ready now, and she tucked into it ravenously whilst seated at a small table in a darkened corner of the Loft. She chugged the Amasec down in a several mighty swigs, stifling a  throaty belch, before attacking her burger with furious gusto, her lips stained with thick grease and sauce. 

Shortly after, a plain dark-haired gentleman in a red blazer slipped out of the delicate cluster of customers, pulling up a chair as Nis gobbled down the last few mouthfuls of Snow-Ox. 

[b]"I got your transmission,"[/b] He informed her calmly "[b]Smart move setting up camp here. Seems like the safest bet." [/b]

[b]"My worry," [/b]Nisvillia replied, licking up some sauce [b]"is that the Fist are operating on the exact same line of thinking." [/b]

The figure cocked and eyebrow[b] "You think they'd try something here?" [/b]

[b]"Just as much as they'd try it anywhere else. Almano isn't known for respecting other's personal space."[/b] Her voice was cool and smooth, with the entrepreneurial grace of a seasoned merchant.

[b]"So...what does the Codex Blissponis advise in this sort of situation?"[/b] He asked dryly. 

[b]"We have the terrain advantage," [/b]she explained [b]"lock this place down tighter than a sister's cunt, set some big guns up in the windows, and we may have a fighting chance." 
[/b]

[b]"You're not hopeful?"[/b] He frowned. 

[b]"I'd be stupid to bring hope into this. Hope has no place in the war room. All it does is get soldiers killed." [/b]

The gentleman smirked [b]"I never knew you to get compassionate about troops." 
[/b]

[b]"I don't give a squig's arse about the troops." [/b]She stated bluntly [b]"but if the Fist , or any of those other gutter-runners, make it in here then I'll be breathing out of several new holes in my head, so I'd say that warrants some careful planning."[/b]

Her slender eyes darted about the room, settling on a group playing cards at one of the tables. She heaved herself out of her seat, grunting as the dress squeezed at her enormous body, before making her way over to the gamblers. 

[b]"Excuse me, my darlings..."[/b] She said calmly [b]"Sorry for interrupting whatever you've got going here, but I was wondering if you'd be interested in some mercenary work."[/b]