[i]Marry's Knockers[/i] was the perfect stereotype of a pub in a seedy town. The place was bustling with travelers, mercenaries, and locals all looking for something. Some came for a night of debauchery, while others came to trade goods and information for bluebacks. The plethora of noises, ranging from drunken attempts to woo the waitresses to the incoherent singing of patrons, served as a perfect veil to keep the quieter guests' activities--be them for business or pleasure--discreet. 

Azra and her companions were there for the former type of activity. They needed information. The cell hers had been working with had been completely wiped out, and the result of their mission was unconfirmed. The group had been sent to Asylum as something akin to diplomats. Despite their growing presence in the Legus area, the Vanguards were desperately short on resources and outposts. Very few settlements wished to become mixed up with conflict against the DERB, and the ones that [i]would[/i] harbor Vanguards had little to offer. Asylum on the other hand was a massive bazaar with plenty of imported resources and more than enough places to shelter agents: A perfect base for the Avant-Garde to hide in plain sight.

Azra couldn't help but feel anxious. No matter how many people there were in the tavern, she got the feeling she and her company stuck out like sore thumbs. They weren't sure exactly who had killed their comrades earlier, and their contact was nearly an hour late. 

The man sitting on Azra's left side stretched out in his wooden chair, as if to exclaim "I'm bored" to the rest of the group. He had jet-black hair in a crew cut that formed into a short beard, and wore what used to be DERB attire with the rank and name patches torn off. "This is getting to be a pain," he said nonchalantly, taking a look around the crowded bar. "Think the Derps know what's up? Yura's cell was taken out by pros."

"This contact's never failed me before Jeremy," the other woman in the cell, Kara, said to him. She stretched and turned her body side-to-side then brushed a lock of her golden hair from her face. Obviously she was sick of sitting as well. "She's not dumb enough to get caught by those soldier-boys. She'll be here." Her word's were sure, but her tone of concern betrayed them.

"Whatever you say." Jeremy rolled his eyes. 

As they waited, Azra periodically glanced to her right at Derrick, who was still torn up about the death of Yura's cell. Her group and Azra's had been the only ones he had the chance to work with in the Avant Garde, and despite the kid's brashness he fit in pretty well. Azra was fairly sure Derrick had taken a particular liking to the cell's leader too. 

"So how ya holding up?" Jeremy asked the young man, apparently noticing Azra's concern.

Derrick, leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed, appearing to be detached. Although he had insisted to be left alone, his posture and mannerisms gave Azra the impression that he was actually looking for attention. "I'm fine," he replied curtly.

[i]Why does he have to be such a brat?[/i]

"Saying you're fine doesn't mean much when your cheeks are still red from tears," Azra mocked, lightly punching the side of the young man's head.

"Ow," Derrick overreacted, much to Kara and Jeremy's amusement. He shot Azra a sharp glare before turning the other way with his arms crossed once again.

[i]Could he be any more angsty?[/i]

In contrast to the rest of the group's lightheartedness, the cell leader--a larger man by the name of Baxter--was brooding impatiently with his elbows on the table. He hadn't said a word for about half-an-hour: It was obvious he was affected just as much as--if not more than--Derrick was by the sudden attack. 

Baxter was a somewhat unusual leader. Normally, a leader is thought of as the most charismatic or decisive of the group, but he was probably the quietest and most likely to overthink things in the cell. Perhaps what made him a leader was the constant air of intensity around him. His mind seemed to always be on the mission and he almost never joked around like the rest of his cell. It demanded a certain level of respect, if not fear sometimes. Most people outside of his team saw him as very gruff and unlikeable, while Azra and the others very clearly saw that he was always looking out for them. 

"For real though," Jeremy spoke again, "This is gettin' to be a waste of time. I know a couple people here. Gimme a few hours and I can probably dig up any info Kara could-"

As if on cue, a hooded woman abrutply seated herself next to Jeremy. "I'm late. Why did you wait so long for me?" she interrogated. Her voice held a mixture of exasperation and exhaustion.

"You came, didn't you?" Kara avoided the question.

"One of my best informants was killed today."

Jill, the contact they had been waiting for, was an information broker. Most of her informants were local prostitutes and waitresses in Asylum's many 'establishments'. As a Vanguard sympathizer, she often provided passing cells with information at a discount, but she always shared with Baxter's team free of charge. It seemed like she and Kara knew each other very well.

"My girls are all able to handle themselves against violent idiots, especially Cassandra. But whoever killed her was some kind of professional: He slit her client's throat before torturing then stabbing her to death. They must have been trying to squeeze info out of her, which means they might know about me. I had to get the word out to as many of my girls as possible, then take the long way here."

"Cassandra," Kara muttered to herself.

"Anyway," Baxter piped up, trying to change the subject, "What do you have for us?"

Jill quickly drew out a small writing tablet from her back pocket, then flipped about halfway through. Azra thought it a bit strange that she didn't just use a USD, since they were much better at organizing information, but she never questioned it. "There's been barely any DERB movement in town for the last week."

Relief swept over the table. At the very least, DERB was not privy to the deal they were making with the Asylum.

Azra wasn't so relieved though. If raiders had attacked Yura's cell, there would have at least been some casualties on the other side. Plus, minimal supplies were taken and most of them had been killed by the same blade. The intent had to have been assassination.

"But there are plenty of mercenaries, right?" Azra asked the broker.

"I was just getting to that," Jill answered. "Asylum probably makes half its profit from traveling mercenaries and traders looking for R&R. It wouldn't be too hard for DERB to hire an assassin here. Of course, those jobs don't come cheap."

"But there was a group," Azra interrupted. "They had a horse that was shot and at least two guns."

"Hm." Jill thought for a moment before scribbling something in her pad. "Probably Voyagers. They've damn near monopolized on horses these days to keep their mercs mobile." She paused again before flipping forward a few pages. "A group of six came into town a few days ago, then left earlier today. And it looks like they weren't far behind your buddies."

[i]Voyagers, huh?[/i] Azra thought to herself. [i]He was always going on about joining up with mercenaries. He said we'd made a lot more blues if we weren't just a couple of freelancing kids.[/i] "Do you know where they were going?"

"You said they lost their horse right? They might have come back into town if that's the case. I still have a couple informants to check up on, so I can't say for sure."

"What about Wetty? Do you know if Yura's team struck a deal with him?" Baxter asked.

"Wetty's a thug, but he's not dumb. He has a soundproofed room for business conversation. Plus," Jill paused for a moment, looking down regretfully. "Plus Cassandra was my informant at Wetty's."

The table was quiet for a moment. Everyone was all thinking the same thing:

"What a bag of worms," Jeremy sighed, stretching in his chair once again.