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[center][h2]Quill Saves The Day Pt. 1[/h2][/center]
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"You want a what?"

Veronica St. Bartholemew sat across from Quill. Every inch of her was tailored for a specific purpose. How else does one become a big shot on Osiris without looking the part. Veronica was a contact from back before Quill became a Companion. Their families often dealt with each other, leaving the girls to their devices. Veronica was always the one that got them in the most trouble. Now she sat there in a business suit, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, as Quill asked for a favor.

"I need a legal document detailing how the ship I am on is legally obligated and well within its rights to transport a bunch of refugees to safety."

Verona blinked. And then blinked again. "Quill, did you hit your head on the way over here? Do I need to contact medical?"

Quill could understand the hesitancy, but time was a factor. "I have never been more serious. There's a slew of men, women, and children on that vessel and if we have no paperwork to show them, they are going to be taken back."

"Quill, I am not without sympathy, but rules are rules. What did you say these people were?"

"Anabaptists."

"That's a sticky subject on an average day Quill. You want me to stick my neck out to pull roughly 10 favors I have to get you some documentation for a bunch of Anabaptists? You realize if this gets back to me my head will roll. Literally. I've fended off three assassination attempts this month alone."

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. Not only that, but the crew on the ship will be in danger. And they are good people."

"This is a Firefly vessel, right?"

"I know what it sounds like, but I've seen them work. They look out for each other and, as you can see, other people as well. Especially those who need it."

Verona clicked her long fingernails on the table. "A favor like this requires a substantial one in return. A job. Get it done and I will do as you ask."

"What's the job?"

Veronica laced her fingers together. "I want you to kill a man."

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Moises Arryan sat back on the couch as the club's lights pulsed and thrashed to the music. Every so often the colors would highlight the woman dancing in front of him, but he was paying her little mind. This was for show, as it always has been. The media outlets thrived on stories of him out and about, getting into light mischief, drinking and partying. That was the surface image he gave off. One that was curated by a team he paid top money for. Can't have the hounds sniffing out what he got to behind closed doors.

He stood up and finished off the glass of some top-shelf alcohol he forgot the name of as he patted the woman's hip as a signal for her to move on. He walked forward, shimmying his hips to the beat, in search of the next opportunity. As his eyes traversed the club, they landed on a figure dancing on a table. Her hair was stylishly done to accentuate her face and her dress left very little to the imagination. She moved around like she had one too many drinks and would not remember where she was when she woke up. 

She was perfect.

He sidled over to her. She caught his eye and gave a drunken smile. "Hey, handsome. Like my dance moves?"

Truth be told, it made him sick thinking of being intimate with her, but he gave her his killer smile, "You bet. What's your name gorgeous?"

"Chastity!"

Ironic.

"A pretty name for a pretty woman," he said as he helped her off the table. "Do you come here often? I don't think I've seen you before."

"First time here! I came with some girlfriends on an extended trip during our break from school. Seems they ditched me to go back to the hotel. What losers! I don't want to stop dancing!" She accentuated this point by moving around him, letting her hands travel across his chest. He pushed back a shudder. "Their loss is my gain."

The woman gave a bubbly laugh, "So who are you?"

"Name's Moises. I own this club."

"Oh my god! No way! You must be like, a bajillionaire!"

"Not quite that, but I do well enough."

He noted her eyes grew more interested. Typical. That's all women like her cared about. A big bank account or a big.....well either way, he knew what he had to do.

"Listen, I know a place we can get to for a private after-party. You can keep dancing all night."

She nodded enthusiastically as he grabbed her hand to lead her to his car. Along the way he plotted what he would do.

[hr]

They had pulled up to a building that, from the outside, looked like your typical housing unit. The girl would be none the wiser as to what was done inside. He led her up some steps, noting she was swaying. "Are we there yet?"

"Almost."

He unlocked the door and pushed the button to call the lift. She was fumbling around in her purse. He figured for some lip gloss or a condom. Both of which would serve her very little. The lift pulled up and he maneuvered her inside. He reached into his pocket, fingers grasping the injection he had stashed away. "Oh poop, you know what I forgot?" the girl said. He fought off an eye roll. "What's that sweethea-" he began to say before 50,000 volts entered his body as he slumped to the ground. "Never mind. Found it!" Quill said, as Moises' vision faded.