La' Deeana lay prone on her cot, her jaw slack.   It was a hot Marabonian summer and the sarha sheets, sticky with sweat, clung to her body whenever she moved.   Between the weather and the sickness, every last pore and fiber of La' Deeana's body ached.   Yet there was a small relief in knowing that if the end was coming, it would be soon.   La' Deeana used this for comfort, and tried to focus on the sweet smell of Marabonian flowers and the music of the region's colorful native birds drifting through the open window rather than the flaring pain that coursed through her body with each heartbeat.

The melody of the birds was disturbed, however, by the sounds of shouting.   A loud argument between a man and a woman in the next room.   The man's voice Deeana recognized as her doctor, a man who had gently told her that the infection had gone too far and that she could not be saved.   The woman's voice reminded Deeana of a person from her past, an outcast from home and family.   The voices intensified, and then the woman apparently met her breaking point: a loud noise, a moment of silence, and suddenly the door to Deeana's plain white room burst open loudly, allowing entrance of a short, stern, beautiful woman.   Deeana dared not sit up to look, but she could barely make out the sparkling brown stone that dangled from the woman's forehead as well as the unique cream colored eyes, eyes that to Deeana's knowledge were a unique trait to her family alone.

The woman marched to the side of Deeana's cot with mathematical precision and looked down at the sick woman lying there as though she were studying a specimen.   Deeana did nothing to recognize the other woman's presence.   The sick woman didn't know the cause for this visit, but she had a pretty good guess.

"They can't save you, you know."

"Go away."   Deeana said.   She was surprised at the frailty of her own voice, which was like a breeze softly escaping her chest.

The other woman, however, did not go away.   Instead she grabbed a plain wooden chair from a corner of the room and pulled it to the bedside.   She seated herself upon it, gracefully crossing her legs while still examining the sick woman with a distant look settled upon her face.   "You'll never have your husband or your Pura looking like that.   But I suppose you're hoping to die right here."

Deeana glanced down her body and almost immediately regretted it.   She had been vain, and she'd readily admit it, which made looking at her current condition all the more painful.   Her once curvy body was a decomposing mass of dried flesh.       Dull blue veins ran like tangled spider webs up her legs.   Deeana was ready to die, but she wished she could retain her dignity in the process.

No matter.   It would be meaningless soon enough.   "What do you want?"   Deeana managed.

"Just came to let you know that I'm not letting you die so easy."

"It's not your choice."

"I'm making it my choice."   The other woman held up her hands which pulsed with a soft glow.   "These Marabonian troglodytes think that if it can't be cured by crushed petals and a sharp knife that it can't be cured, but what's killing you is a simple but brutal infection.   I can have you on your feet before the end of the day."

The other woman reached forward, but Deeana recoiled from the touch.   "I have no right living.   I'm ready for this.   Keep your poison away from me."

The other woman frowned critically but the glow around her hands remained.   "This is your wonderful moral judgment in action, isn't it?"

Deeana's voice grew stronger as she spoke.   "I contribute nothing.   I only take away.   If I am to die, the world will be better for it."

"Maybe.   Or maybe you could turn yourself into a contributor.   The only reason you contribute nothing is because you've let yourself live the life these local neanderthals have decided for you, a glossed up concubine searching for some intangible Pura.   You were born with the same gift as me, Deeana.   Embrace it, and you can do good."

Deeana began another protest, but her sister suddenly lurched forward and grabbed her head.   Deeana's body, which moments ago felt as though it was ready to burst into flames, suddenly felt as cold as ice.   She tried to fight against the healing touch, but her body began to mercilessly heal itself.   In that moment, La' Deeana realized that not only would she live to see tomorrow, but that her life would never be even remotely the same.

*        *        *

La' Deeana watched over her target from a vantage point high above the abandoned alleyway.   She was perched gracefully on a narrow ledge outside the window of a building that, much like North Viper itself, deteriorated more with each passing day.   The population of Viper was so dense and poverty stricken that getting an accurate census was practically impossible,   Crowded, elbow-to-elbow living conditions was practically the norm throughout the city, but here it was different.   A steadily growing, increasingly dedicated cluster collected here regularly to hear the man they called "The Prophet" fervently preach the sermon of Tauroch.   His real name was Petriv Orring, and in the anarchistic city of North Viper his rocket-fueled sermons had him gaining more and more prestige with the scattered masses.   It had come to the point that certain people were afraid that Petriv's Tauroch-based influence might be getting problematic.   The situation approached critical mass as tonight a ceremony was scheduled that would most likely involve human sacrifice and, some feared, might actually have some kind of "result".

And that's where La' Deeana came in.

"D, do ya' read me?"

Deanna used one gloved hand to activate the mic that was strapped to her chest.   "Yeah, Kuliss, loud and clear."

"I can't get a clean shot. How about you?"

"You will never get a clean shot in that crowd.   I think we're gonna have to do this the old fashioned way."

"Good times. I'll leave it to you then.   Rest assured I'll be here if you need me."

Deanna glanced up the building to where Kuliss was lying in wait with one fuzz-covered paw wrapped around the trigger of a sniper rifle.   The magic-dancing assassin moogle was someone she would trust on her six any day of the week.   Deanna didn't expect any trouble from a bunch of confused stragglers, but it was good to have the crackshot around, just in case.

Deanna drew herself up to her full, statuesque height. She was done up in her "work clothes", a tuxedo shirt, cummerbund, and a pair of pinstripe pants.   Her black hair was done up in meticulous ringlets which spilled down her neck and across her shoulders, and her jeweled fencing sword was strapped across her back.   Topping it off were two fire red earrings that dangled nearly down to Deanna's shoulder, the only part of her outfit that indicated her Tane.   It was an impractical costume, and she knew it, but old habits die hard.   Looking good used to be her sole occupation. She smirked softly as she pressed the button on her chest.   "So how do I look?"

"Killer, as ever."

"How appropriate."   Deanna then launched herself from her perch, gravity carrying her towards the ground like a dart.   Just as the ground was about to catch up to her, she held her hands forward and slowed her descent, allowing her to land gracefully on her feet.   Someone must have spotted her falling towards the ground, however, as a clamor ran through the gathered crowd.   As Deanna drew the blade, she fully expected the crowd to dissolve, allowing her a clean run at her target.  

Instead, the crowd actually charged her.

Deanna steadied her blade before her, reluctant to cut down any members of the misguided masses, but ready to do so if it meant her life.   The mass of people, which at first looked like nothing but an angry mob, congealed around her with a strange sense of organization.   Deanne kept her sword ready, waiting for someone to jump forward.   Instead, they gathered around her, muttering guttural words she could not recognize...

Suddenly her stomach lurched.   She had barely a moment to bend over before she emptied itself on the dirt floor of the alley.   Even after her lunch hit the ground, her body continued to convulse.   Deanna managed to lift one shaking hand to her chest.

"KULISS!"

"I'm on it."

Seconds later, Kuliss was on the ground next to Deanna, his rifle (which was almost as tall as he was) strapped to his fuzzy back.   The short creature assumed a fighting stance, holding his stubby arms before himself and spreading his feet.   "All right, you creepy bastards, prepare to have your asses collectively kicked!"   Kuliss drew in one long, prepared breath...

And then the moogle started dancing.

The odd crowd actually watched, bewildered, as the Moogle gracefully transitioned from break dancing to a ballroom dance.   The moment Kuliss finished his dance, with a pirouette like an expression mark, an explosion of wind erupted from under him and knocked the crowd back like dolls.

Safe for the moment, Kuliss turned to Deeana.   "You okay, D?"

"Been better.   What was that?"

"Tauroch curses, in Uld Ticondtha.   I think our boy has been giving classes."

Deanna wiped the trail of vomit from the corner of her mouth.   "Lovely.   I suppose he's getting away right now?"

"Yeah, he bolted to the other end of the alley."   Kuliss unstrapped his rifle.   "I'll see what I can do, but you should probably make tracks."

Deeana nodded and started running to the other end of the alley.   The crowd of Tauroch worshipers were slowly coming to, some of them even making feeble attempts to re-curse the well dressed killer, but she ignored them.   Her target was getting away, her paycheck and her retribution all rolled up into one dark robed would-be priest.

As Deeana ran around the corner she collided with another person who was running in the opposite direction.   Both had been bolting at breakneck speed, and as they met they bounced off each other and fell on the ground clumsily.

Deeana managed to recover well enough, whipping her sword around to point towards the man, wholly expecting it to be another Tauroch follower.   He appeared innocent enough: a sandy haired, notably handsome man dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a tee-shirt sponsoring some bar in a place called Backwoods.   Deeana kept her weapon in front of her, however, when she spotted what the man was carrying: a sword.

The man, still seated on the ground, looked over to Deanna and merely uttered one word: "Wow."

Deeana brought the tip of her sword within inches of the man's face.   "Who are you?"

"Calm down lady."   The man said.   He stood up slowly, brushing the dust from his jeans, virtually unfazed by the sword pointed towards him.   "The name's Candron,   mage for hire, and I have a feeling I'm here for the same reason you are."

"And what reason is that?"

"'Ol dinky blackrobes, who is actually going in the other direction."

Deeana's eyes narrowed and she moved forward so that the tip of her sword was lightly pressing into the neck of Candron.   "Why two assassins?"

"Same job, two different employers.   I think mine must have known about yours, though, because I was told there might be some.. competition."

Deeana finally lowered her weapon and then turned her back on the other assassin.   "Whatever.   I've got a job to finish.   See you around."

"Wait."

Deeana, who really had been walking away, halted.   "What?"

"I'm still in the race too.   I just thought a little friendly competition might help the task go by smoother.   So what do you say to a little wager?"

"What kind of wager?"

"Well.. if you get the target first, you can have all of my wages for the job."

"And if you win?"

Candron smirked coyly.   "You owe me a night on the town."

Deeana, despite herself, smiled a bit in reply.   "All right then.   Money isn't the main reason I'm doing this, but I'll take it if it's offered.   Because I have a feeling I don't have a whole lot to fear from you."

"Careful my lady, I'm full of surprises."

"Sure.   See ya."   And with that, Deeana began running down the street...

...and was quickly passed by Candron, who was running at well over twice the speed of a normal human being.

"I say you cheated."

"Oh, don't be a sore loser."   Candron chided, finishing off another tall mug of beer.   He winced as it travelled down his throat: Ticonderan ale was a good bit harsher than your typical domestic drink, and it burned on the way down.   "Do you really think they'd send in an assassin with a sword and nothing more?"

"You looked completely inept."   Deeana said, shaking her head.   "You look about as natural with a sword as Kuliss looks with his rifle."

"I take offense to that!"   The half drunken moogle added, slamming his heavy glass mug on the bar.   He then sneezed so hard that he nearly fell off his stool: bar smoke agitated moogles and stuck in their fur for weeks, and this little seedling of debauchery was rife with it. Likely Deeana would have to put up with the moogle's bitching for months.

Candron laughed lightly and held up his hand, indicating to the grumpy bartender that he wanted another drink.   "I'll admit that the work doesn't really suit me. I almost went through life without knowing I could do magic, and under different circumstances I'd probably be driving a truck or something right now.   But it's relatively easy, so long as I know my limits, and it pays well.       I have a little lady at home, and one good paycheck a month means I can spend time with her and not a cubicle.   But what about you?   You said you weren't in it for the money."

Deanna took a sip of her water -- she had never drunk alcohol, and probably never would.   "I don't think you'd want to hear it.   Most people just write it off as a fancy way of justifying my job."

"Come on, try me."

"Don't get her started."   Kuliss slurred, again bumping his mug on the bar.   It was still his first drink, and it was only half gone, but Moogles are notorious for not being able to hold their liquor.   "Or you'll never get her to shut up."

"I don't mind." Candron shrugged.   "At the very least, it sounds interesting."

"Well, I believe that civilization..."  

"Here we go!"   Kuliss exclaimed, tossing his paws in the air.   "I'm gonna go dance."

Deeana looked at her partner with a puzzled expression.   "But there's no dance floor here."

"So what?"   The moogle leapt from his stool and landed on the ground with a thud, and then waddled humorously into the crowd.

Candron looked back towards Deeana, lingering again on her beauty.   "You were saying?"

"Well... the way I see it, civilization's growth is dependent on a positive net gain of society through time.   That means that people, the components of society, have to do more good than harm.   And so people can be divided up into two categories: the good and the bad.   The good have a positive effect in society overall.   They contribute.   They do more good than harm.   Well as the bad.. well, they contribute nothing.   They take.   The world would be better off without them."

"I think I can tell where this is going."

"Right.   Well, a few years ago I used to be one of the bad.   But my sister, may she live in mana forever, convinced me to hone my talents.   I learned the sword from Truklan, I learned to use mana from the Glory Tower.   And when the training ended, I found I had the capacity to be a contributor, to be one of the "good".. by removing the "bad"."

"So you figure you have the wisdom to decide who is good and who is evil?"

"It goes beyond good and evil.   It's something more concrete and quite simple.   If society benefits from someone's existence, they deserve to live.   If society is held back by someone's existence, than they shouldn't be around."

"Fascinating."

Just then, the bar filled with water that went up to Deanna's waist.   The entire bar was filled with alarmed cries. Candron looked around in confusion.   Deanna, however, immediately flared with irritation and started scanning the bar for her partner.

"What's going on?"

"You should never let a moogle drink and dance."

Just then, the fuzzy sniper doggy paddled next to Deanna, keeping most of his body submerged, as he clearly didn't want to be seen.

"D.. I think we should leave."

*        *        *

It wasn't quite a desert, but it was close.   Looking down from the cliff face she was settled on, Deanna could make out maybe three trees.   Everything else seemed to be made of dried mud or cracked red rock.   The heat was glaring and stubborn.   For the first time in her professional career, Deanna found herself contemplating taking off her jacket.   The heat was just short of unbearable, and it was definitely doing a number on her hair.   But still, the jacket had to stay on.   She had a reputation to uphold, after all.   A small comfort that she was going solo on this mission: all Kuliss would have done here is bitch.   Not that she could blame him, as Moogles only sweat through their noses.

It was Deeana's second day here, waiting in the cliff face, barely shielded by its shade.   What was going to be a routine job quickly wound up being the best opportunity Deeana had been presented with for advancing her career.   Following up on the shreds of the old, forbidden religion left behind by Petriv Orring had lead to some interesting discoveries, chief among them being that many of the cult's materials came from Carrion.   This was surprising mainly because, considering Carrion's inconsequential role in terms of the old gods and the Great War, there was never much reason to believe that Tauroch had much influence in that particular corner of the web.   Apparently, however, Tauroch had managed to foster a pocket of followers in Carrion even before it was formally introduced into the Web of Worlds, and thus Carrion had remained a valuable source of materials from the Blood God.

Following this lead, authorities in The West located and recovered a small trove of Tauroch's teachings.   While transporting these materials to Walkerton, however, the transport convoy was attacked by local bandits who conveniently took the forbidden materials off the authorities' hands.   What a group of bandits would need with a collection of forbidden texts was beyond anyone's knowing, but all it took was one person with a knowledge of Uld Ticondtha to cause mischief with those texts.

And this, of course, is where La' Deeana comes in.   It was not her job to retrieve the texts, though.   It was her job to take out the man responsible, the leader of the Black Heart Gang of Brownington, one Eagle Sharpe, one of the most dangerous men in The West when it came to old fashioned, mechanical firearms.   The Marshals in the area had not been able to control the growing problem of crime in The West, and not until the involvement of old Tauroch texts did anyone else really care.   Sharpe and his boys might have been able to deal with the local authorities on their own terms, but they would find themselves in a much different situation against a trained Tane.   Bullets didn't mean much to Deeana.

"Want some company?"

Deeana looked around, startled by the new voice.   Standing behind her, wearing a grin from ear to ear, was Candron.   He was dressed in a t-shirt, a ballcap, and what looked to be a pair of swim trunks.

"You've got to be kidding."   Deeana said.   "I refuse to believe the two employers bit twice.   You must be stalking me."

"What can I say, you are quite the enchanting lass."   Candron gave Deeana a quick look over.   "Stylish, as always, but looking a little dusty.   How long have you been camped out here?"

"About two days I figure."

"Well, you should have asked me: I knew exactly when to expect the cavalry."   Candron pointed off into the distance.   Deeana followed the path of his finger and was able to make out, just barely visible through the heat distorted vision, a small batch of rusty, slow moving trucks.

"Wanna race again?" Candron asked, smirking.

"Same bet?"

"Sure."

"It's not going to be so easy this time."   Deeana said, and then she jumped from the cliff face.   Instead of merely falling towards the earth however, she flew like a bullet from a gun at a perfect angle towards her target.   Sharpe was in the front truck, his face twisted into some permanent expression of confidence.   He must have spotted the assassin approaching him, however, as he swore audibly and brought his truck to a screeching halt.   The trucks behind likewise stopped, their drivers and passengers plainly confused until Sharpe pointed out the beautiful, well groomed angel of death that was racing towards them.   Moments later, the shooting started.

It was a wonder this ragtag gang had managed to steal anything, considering most of them were terrible shots.   Sharpe, however, was good.   Very good.   His were the only bullets that were on track to reach Deeana, and if she had not swatted each one away with strands of air they likely would have hit her forehead.   Eventually the bullets started coming faster, so fast that Deeana couldn't safely bat them away any longer, so she tried to do some creative flying by taking high into the air.   Sharpe's shots were still close to their mark however, and Deeana finally took one last deep breath and dived towards Sharpe through the trucks driver side window.

Sharpe must not have been expecting the speed, because he looked completely surprised as the lithe woman broke through the window and ran into the outlaw with such force that he knocked the passenger side door off its hinges as he flew through it.   Deeana stayed right on top of him, pinning him to the earth as he landed, her sword already drawn and ready to strike.

"Fuckin'... bitch..." Sharpe spat, a trickle of blood already streaming from the corner of his mouth.   He was feebly trying to get his gun up, but Deeana had both of his hands pinned down under her knees, grinding them into the ground until the right one was forced to release the gun it held.

If Deeana had been in a good mood she would have uttered a one-liner for the sake of it, but she was far beyond being ready to go home.   She went for the killing strike, a sword jab through the heart, but her sword was blown from her hand when it was a mere breath away from Sharpe's skin.

Deeana looked up in surprise, already preparing a spell for whichever of Sharpe's cronies had managed to blast the weapon from her hand.   Instead she spotted Candron, the remnants of stretched mana strands flowing off of his extended hand like smoke from the barrel of a gun.

"I got him fair and square, Candron.   Hands off."

"I think we had a misunderstanding."   Candron said slowly, his voice guarded.   "I wasn't sent here to kill Sharpe.   I was hired to protect him from a hired assassin."

Deeana felt her blood run cold.   "You've got to be joking.   This man deserves to die."

"Maybe."

"Who hired you?"

"I have no idea.   I don't ask questions, I just go where the finger points.   They paid me quite well, and considering who was sent to do the assassination, I guess I'm not so surprised."

Deanna stood up off her trophy.   Sharpe immediately scurried away and grabbed at his weapon.   Deeana, without looking, blasted the gun with a gust of air, putting it well out of the outlaw's reach.

"Get out of here, Eagle."   Candron stated, bringing his sword up.   "I'll make sure she doesn't follow."

The outlaw looked apprehensively between the two mages.   He wasn't the kidn of person to let other people fight his fights, but there wasn't much he could do against a mage with no gun.   He grunted his agreement and calmly turned back towards the truck, hobbling a bit as he walked.

Deeana, in the meantime, calmly picked up her sword from it rested, bringing it up as she turned to face Candron.

"Just stop here, Deeana.   I don't want to harm you."

"But I want to harm you.   I want to harm you very much."

Deeana dashed towards Candron with inhuman speed, and there swords met with a loud clash, blowing away a circle of dust with the force of the impact.

"I had no idea you were one of the bad ones, Candron."   Deeana said, her voice emotionless.   "I thought you had a better handle on things."

"We're mercenaries, Deeana, and while you can apparently afford to pick and choose your jobs, I can do no such thing.   The price was right, and that's all I'm looking for."

Deeana looked away from Candron and saw the trucks began driving away.   Urgency gripped her and she threw Candron down with her sword, and she immediately started after the lead truck.   Candron appeared in front of her almost instantly, however, and made a half hearted swipe.   Deeana parried it away easily, but Candron pressed on, obviously not going for a killing blow but simply trying to stall the woman.

After a few exchanged blows, however, it became obvious to Deeana that this other man could not possibly be any kind of match for her with the blade.   She pressed harder, even taking a few swings that would have dismembered her opponent if they connected, and it was all Candron could do to keep steel from meeting flesh.   Candron tried a few tricks of his own, including a couple of quick spells, but Deeana kept the pressure on her opponent and Candron could not find an opening.

Deeana came down with one overhead blow that would have surely killed Candron if it had connected, and Candron brought his sword up to deflect it just in time.   The clumsy block combined with the force of the blow however, sent him to the ground, sending his sword sliding across the cracked earth, settling it past Sharpe's abandoned firearm.   Deeana grabbed the man's collar aggressively and held the sword up against his throat.   She hesitated though, if even for a moment, but it was all the time Candron needed.   He reached for the fallen gun with magic-enhanced speed, brought it up, and fired.

The huge, heavy handgun belonging to Eagle Sharpe delivered a cruel payload into Deeana's shoulder, violently lifting her off of Candron's body and into the air.   She fell to the earth with a thump, intense pain clouding her vision.   Candron, still trying to catch his breath, walked over to where his opponent was writhing on the ground, clutching at the huge hole in her body.

"Sorry about this, Deeana."   Candron said.   He then raised the butt of the gun and clocked Deeana over the head.

What's that noise?

Deeana tried to open her eyes, but found her body unwilling.   Wherever she was, it was bright, as light was seeping through closed eyelids.   Her senses were all dulled, but the ground below her felt soft, almost like a cushion without being comfortable.   The air smelled clean.. cool.   Wherever she was, it wasn't the Western barren lands anymore.

"Are you waking up, pretty lady?" Whose voice?   Like a child, a happy kid with a saccharine voice.   "Are you waking up?"   This last word received special inflection, and Deeana thought she could even hear the sound of the child making a short, excited hop.

Open your eyes, dammit.

Deeana redoubled her efforts to wake up, to sit up, yet her eyelids felt like they weight ten tons each.   At last though, she opened the left one a slit, and it suddenly felt as though the weight had been lifted.   The left eye opened, and the right quickly followed.   There was a sensation of discomfort as her eyes adjusted to the invasion of the fluorescent light overhead.   Between the blinding white walls, the uncomfortable bed, an the ache in her body, there could only be one place where she COULD be: the hospital.

Her head fell lazily to one sound, towards the source of the childlike sounds she had heard earlier.   Indeed, it was a child who was standing there, an absolutely adorable little girl, probably not even three years old yet.   She gasped in delight at seeing Deeana wake up.   She squeeled happily, opening a mouth not quite full of teeth yet, and began doing a kind of run-dance in place.   Behind her, curled up in a fetal position in two chairs that were pressed against the wall, was a soundly sleeping Kuliss.

Someone outside must have heard the child, because the door into the room slowly and cautiously opened.   Deeana struggled to look up, to see who had joined the two, and her body immediately froze when she found out who.

"Candron."   She spat, struggling to sit up.   The mind was willing, but the body was not able.

"Calm down, Deeana."   Candron said, holding one callused hand up.   "I'm the one who brought you here."

"Look daddy!"   The girl squealed.   "She's awake!"

Deeana loosened slightly, but her tired eyes were still filled with suspicion.   "Why?"

"To do some 'good' I guess.   I wasn't kidding when I said I didn't want to kill you.   All of your good and bad people talk.. I dunno, guess I'm trying to make up for something." Candron's eyes drifted towards the little girl, who became elated under Candron's gaze.   The man scooped the girl up into his arms and looked at her tenderly.   "I tend to do that a lot, actually."

"...who's the girl?"

"The little lady."   Candron said, smiling slightly.   "She's.. I'm not her.. you know.. biological parent.   Turns out this little angel was the daughter of a target, and was treated pretty crummy at that.   Guess I had a moment of weakness when I saw her after the fact.   Couldn't help myself.   Makes a heart melt, she does."

Deeana sighed, though her chest protested the movement.   "Maybe you're not so bad.   But why did you take the job to protect Sharpe.   Do you have any idea what might happen if those texts end up in the wrong place?"

Candron shrugged.   "Ironically, the texts just ended up being bought off the gang by a museum in Ticondera.   That's about the way they do things over there, I guess, black market Tauroch and all this.   But how much harm can they do in a museum?"

"You just keep telling yourself that at night."

Candron sighed and then began putting his adopted daughter down.   She began to protest immediately, so he stood back up, still cradling the girl in his arms.   "For what it's worth, I guess this job was the last straw.   I've got a nice little nest egg saved up, and I guess I've decided it's time to find more legitimate work, though I'd rather wait until the lady here is ready for preschool."

"So you can leave this last job with a clean conscience, hm?"

"I'm not going to say I've never done something I regretted later, but that's human nature, isn't it?   I mean, we have the capacity to be 'bad', as you put it, but that means we also have the capacity to be 'good', right?   Can't people change?"

Deeana didn't answer.

"Well... look, at any rate, I just wanted to hang around to make sure you were okay.   That gun I used had some real kick, but modern medicine combined with magic makes for some incredible healing.   You might have some light scarring, but I figure that will give your beauty and extra, exotic touch."

"Nice.   I guess I should be thanking you."

"Maybe you should.   But.. about what I said.. I'm going to try and make a clean break, and if you're interested I thought it might be easier to make the transition with someone in the same boat.   Wanna take a break from judging the goods from the bad long enough to try a more normal life?   I can't promise you'll be saving the world, but I'd bet we can both find something to love."

Deeana was silent for a moment as she rolled the possibilities over in her head.   No matter how she looked at it, though, she just couldn't see fulfillment.   She couldn't see herself in a domestic lifestyle.   She had found salvation through her choices, and it simply felt too late to turn back now.   "Thanks for the offer, Candron, but I'll have to pass."

Candron shrugged, though it seemed like he was trying to hide some disappointment.   "Suit yourself.   The offer stands if you're ever interested, though.   I'm not a hard guy to find.   But.. then.. I suppose I should go.   You look like you need some more sleep."

"I suppose I should."

Candron went to the door out of the room and, with a little effort, managed to open the door without disturbing the young girl in his arms, who was quickly falling asleep.   "Well, maybe I'll see you around anyways.   Take it easy, won't you?"

"Whatever."

"Oh... and Deeana?"

Deeana looked over to the man in the doorway with heavy eyes.   "Yes?"

"Good luck.   In whatever you do."

Deeana actually smiled slightly now.   "You too."

Candron finished leaving the room, letting the door slam behind him.   The loud noise and accompanying gust of air was enough to wake the sleeping moogle in the corner, who snapped to attention almost immediately.  

"Wha... D?   You're awake!"

"Thank you, captain obvious.   Were you really so worried about me?   It was just a scratch."

"Well, of course I was worried D, but to be honest I'm just excited about you making a fast recovery.   We've already got a new job, and it's a big payer."

"Accepting jobs without running them by me first?   That's probably not a good idea."

The moogle dismissed the argument with a wave of his paws.   "Oh, I know you'll love this job.   Political turmoil, corrupt businessman, and hundreds of civilians likely to suffer if we don't succeed.   It's the stuff of Deeana Legend.   So.. what do you say?"

Deeana struggled to sit up, but at last found the strength.   She smiled down to her moogle partner as she fought to get the white sheets off her body.   "Sounds good.   Just let me get dressed."