Disclaimers:
Ben 10, Ben 10: Alien Force, and their respective characters belong to Man of Action. The OC's are mine.


Dealing in the black market can be a very stressful, often times hazardous occupation. Disgruntled clients, former associates out for revenge, current associates who would stab you in the back at the first chance they get; funny how a couple million credits make it all worth it.

At least, that's what Argit tells himself on a bad day.

Like yesterday. And the day before that.

The memories make Argit twitch, but the numerous bruises mottling his body beneath his fur makes him wince. As much as he wishes he could just stay in his little hidey-hole in the slums, he forces himself to go to the local watering hole for non-humans. He still has business he needs to attend to, and when money was involved not even broken limbs will keep him away.

The trip to The Warehouse takes him longer than usual, a good hour longer. By the time he arrives, Argit is all snarls and bristling quills. He yanks off the photonic-displacement mask he was wearing the instant he steps into the establishment. The place is fairly empty as happy hour wasn't for another five hours or so.

"You look like something the vulpimancer chewed up, spat out, and then dragged in," the fish-like bartender notes from within his water-filled helmet.

"Shut it, Icthas," Argit hissed, carefully sitting himself down at the bar, "I ain't in the mood."

"Awwww, why is my Argy-Wargy such a pissy-ass tonight?" a petite, minx-like waitress asks as she saunters up to the tech-dealer.

"Midge," he smirks, glad for the sight of his favorite friend-with-benefits. The grin on his snout widens when she slides onto his lap and her thick, black tail winds around his thin, spindly tail. But he lets out a sharp yelp when her weight puts too much pressure on his still-sore legs. "Damn it, Midge, are you getting fat on me?"

The waitress makes an indignant huff, "I thought you liked it when I had more curves than angles."

"Yeah, I do. But fuck if it don't make me think a spheroid is sitting on my lap."

"Keep running at the snout like that and let's see if she'll keep being so obliging with you." Icthas snickered as he bussed glasses.

Argit shot the bartender a glare from the corner of his eye.

"Aw, I understand Argy," Midge playfully taps the end of his snout with a finger, "You're always like this when you have a deal that gone sour. Frell knows I've seen you like this more times than I can count."

Icthas lets out another snicker.

Again, the tech-dealer glares daggers at the fish-like alien. "Actually, the ideal/i went as planned. The other was a-" he pauses for the appropriate term, "-surprise visit from a previous client."

"Then why you so banged up?" the she-alien asks.

"Two straight days of getting pushed around does that to a guy." He sighed dramatically.

"You mean your patented beg-grovel-run strat didn't work? What a shock that must have been."

"Icthas, I swear the next time those fishy lips of yours open, I am going to fill it with so many quills you'll be shitting them for weeks," Argit snarls, visibly bristling.

The bartender just looks amused.

"Never mind him, Argy," she purrs and gently runs her paw up his chest.

Argit winces when the waitress brushes against a tiny, pinprick of a wound near his neck.

"What's wrong?"

The tech-dealer grimaces, "Ah, nothing. The previous client decided to give me a souvenir."

"Why don't you tell Midge allllll about it?"

"Oh, you are going to like this, babe. So there I was, inspecting a new shipment of holosistors when five killer Kygone drones suddenly showed up-"

-------------------

In reality, two days ago...

Argit heard someone had been looking for him. Someone from off-world. That had never been good. The reason why most self-respecting tech-dealers willingly stayed on a low-level planet like Earth was because they were, simply put, hiding from someone. Sure, there were some who were on Earth because they liked the place.

Argit was not one of them.

Earlier on his career he had double-crossed the wrong people, stepped on the wrong toes. And they apparently carried grudges no matter how petty they may be and were always eager to settle the score.

Despite his precautions and all attempts at losing his pursuers, Argit found himself cornered in an alley. Trapped like a rat.

He swallowed thickly; the tech-dealer did not appreciate how apt that figure of speech was. Especially while he stared at the two figures that had tracked him down and forced him into a dead end. He recognized the taller one of the pair, which wasn't necessary a good thing.

"Myaxx, long time no see. How'd you do with those parts I got you?" He nervously chattered, hoping the chimera sui generis wasn't out for his head.

"They were defective," Myaxx growled, crimson eyes narrowing at him.

Argit gulped and pulled out the laser pistol hidden in his coat, only to have it shot out of his hand by Myaxx's armored companion.

"We're not here about defective parts nor are we here for trouble." The shorter, stockier alien clarified, his own blaster aimed directly at Argit. He had stepped forward and positioned himself between the chimera and the tech-dealer. "We're here for information on the Wellor System."

"I don't know nothing," was Argit's immediate reply, "But for five thousand credits I might be able to remember something."

"You got some nerve asking for that much when you're not exactly known for reliability." Myaxx frowned.

The armor-clad figure canted his head towards the chimera, "Explain why we went to the trouble of tracking down someone so disreputable and useless."

Argit visibly bristled at the insult.

Myaxx glowered, "Maybe if you hadn't spent nearly three fourths of the budget on background checks of our latest employer, we might be able to afford better information."

The pair seemed distracted and Argit seized the opportunity. He let loose a hail of his paralyzing quills.

A smirk spread across Argit's snout; his aim had not been off. But his smirk did not last long.

The quills that shot at Myaxx seemed to be ricocheting off an invisible shield. She must have raised a barrier as a precaution when Argit had drawn his laser pistol. His quills managed to knock the armor-clad alien's blaster out of his grip, but that was all they were able to accomplish. The paralyzing projectiles seemed to have no effect on him. Of course until that moment, Argit had no way to know Myaxx's companion had diamond-hard skin.

The next thing the tech-dealer knew, the alley wall was rushing towards him to greet the back of his skull. The impact rattled his brain and almost rendered him unconscious. Had it not been for the thick fist roughly shaking him by the collar of his shirt, Argit would have been knocked out. The stars winking before his eyes almost kept him from noticing how the same thick fist had him dangling several inches off the ground.

Almost.

But no amount of winking stars could have kept him from noticing that the other fist had sharpened into a dangerous, crystalline point and was hovering a hair's breadth from his throat.

"I was hoping this visit wouldn't turn into an altercation," the armored alien began, "But it seems a little rough-housing is in order to make our point."

"C-c'mon! I-it was just a little joke! Honest!" Argit squeaked and stared down at the dagger-sharp arm pressed against his neck.

The chimera snorted, not sounding the least bit sympathetic, and folded her arms across her chest, "The only joke here was your attempt at attacking us."

A lump had formed in Argit's throat but he didn't dare swallow. Not when each minute movement brought the dagger-point closer to piercing his hide.

"Wellor System." Argit heard the armored alien growl. "Tell us everything you know about the Wellor System. If it's good enough, I might change my mind about giving you a dozen new air-holes."

"You might want to ease up a little there, Shard." Myaxx snickered. "It's hard to make out coherent sentences in between spurting blood."

Argit felt the crystalline blade lift from his throat, "I-I don't know much except it's a map or something!"

Myaxx shook her head in amusement as Shard pulled his arm back, preparing to impale the tech-dealer.

"Wait! Wait! I know it's a map to a, uh, to a power source!"

Myaxx brought out a small device as Shard paused expectantly.

"And and and that it's being kept somewhere in the Galaxian Ruins of Nestur IV! That's all I know, I swear!"

Myaxx finished typing in the information as Shard unceremoniously dropped Argit to the ground.

"That information isn't even worth a hundred credits." Myaxx sneered, strapping the recording device back into its casing, "But I suppose it'll have to do."

The crystalline blade reverted back into a thick, blocky arm as Shard dusted his hands off.

Argit knew better than to get on his feet while the chimera and her companion were still in the vicinity. The tech-dealer just lay there, sprawled on the ground, and waited for the pair to leave.

He yelped when he felt himself being lifted off the ground by the scruff of his shirt.

He screamed when he felt himself being stabbed in the neck.

"I'm just getting your DNA signature with a hyper-syringe." Myaxx rolled her eyes. "No need to sound like I'm killing you."

"W-why would you even want my DNA signature?" Argit whimpered as he rubbed the tiny, pinprick wound where the needle punctured his hide.

"It makes tracking you down easier." Shard explained.

"Cheaper too." Myaxx added as an after thought.