Parking Lot Across from Whiskey Bar

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

Malcolm arrived at the meeting location and looked around for his employer.

[The Stranger]

There is a long black sedan, its headlights off, seated on the other side of the parking lot. When Malcom arrives, the car flicks its headlines on and off twice.

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

Malcolm makes his way over to the car, right hand never straying far from the revolver at his thigh. He had not trust for a man so willing to pay for a half finished job.

[The Stranger]

The tinted window rolled down about half way.

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

He approached the window cautiously, peering inside.

[The Stranger]

Malcom looked into the window only to be staring down the double barrels of the largest shotgun he'd ever seen. Even though he'd been suspicious all he could think to do upon seeing the sight was to mouth, "Frag me."

The world exploded into flames. Malcom went flying across the lot what seemed like forty feet. Groaning he stumbled to his feet clutching his face and moaning. Suddenly he could see light and flames. He was alive...he could see. His face was intact.

The black sedan was a tangled mess of burning metal. Malcom stared at it questioningly. Why would they blow up their own car?

Then he heard a distinct whirring from his SF days. A long pale fixed wing drone was doing a lazy circle above his position... Dipping lower.

It was coming around for another pass.

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

Malcolm's blood froze in his veins at the familiar sound of an unmanned drone. His unit had called them "Angels of Death" for good reason. He didn't have time to wonder what one was doing in the middle of the Undercity or why it had just blown up his traitorous employers. The adrenaline pumping through him limited his options to fight or flight and he chose the latter. He got to his feet and ran, looking around desperately for cover.

[The Stranger]

It was hard to think of what might count as cover, since one of the drone's missiles would destroy even a building if he ran into it.

Malcolm's phone rang.

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

Malcolm wracked his brain trying to remember any tidbit in his training that would help him evade a drone. He'd heard rumors that rapidly dropping your body heat could fool a drone's infrared sensors, but had not met a man that had accomplished such a feat and lived to tell tale.

He answered the phone.

[The Stranger]

There was a slight crackle of interference, and than a computerized voice with a slight hint of a femininity spoke.

"YOUR EMPLOYERS WANT TO KILL YOU." the voice said, "IT SEEMS A GOOD TIME TO SWITCH TEAMS."

The drone was in a perfect firing position, yet no missile was forthcoming.

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

Malcolm glared at the hovering drone trying to cobble together how this situation had developed.

"Doesn't look like I have much choice." he grunted. "Who are you?"

[The Stranger]

"MY NAME IS MOLLY." the voice replied, "I WILL NOT MAINTAIN CONTROL OF THEIR DEVICE FOREVER. I SUGGEST YOU BEGIN MOVING."