"You understand how much of an honour it should be for somebody of your credentials to work for a prestigious organisation like the Vishkar Corporation, correct?"
Joan sat in the chair. She didn't care much for the prestige that they offered. She came here because she needed money and refused to think about the moral implications of where it came from. There were lives on the line, and she needed what they had. "I don't care much for your prestige, just take care of him." She replied, "You know my agreement. You do that, then I'm as good as yours." The Vishkar Representative nodded, and leant down to access a filing cabinet. Most of the room was filled with insurmountably advanced technology. It made most of what she was experienced to using appear as if it were made from particularly crummy spare parts found out the back of a third-rate tech shop. That included her arm, unfortunately. The Representative peered into the iris scanner on the filing cabinet, and from it pulled a small manilla folder.
"Contained within this folder is everything you shall need to know about your mission, including various reports your target." The Vishkar Representative stated. He sat for a second, as if he were thinking about his words. "You will be required to take him alive. May I remind you Joan, we need what is trapped inside his head." He added after a pause, "You have a habit of letting the lives of your targets slipping through your fingers, and so I must emphasise the importance of keeping this man alive." Joan stared down at the file. A tab at the top read "Fawkes, Jamison" in emblazoned letters, and a bold red stamp across the front of the file read "Classified" in full capital letters. She opened the file, and was aghast at what she saw. A map upon the inside of the file dictated the location of her target, or at least the last known location he had been recorded at. "You don't seriously think I would willingly go to that dump of a place, do you?" She exclaimed, "I would not be caught dead going to a place like that. That place is death, and we all know that."
The Vishkar Representative leaned back in his chair. "Afraid of death now, are we?" The Representative replied, "If I know your history, and I do, you have a habit of not dying under any circumstance. You have seemingly undergone everything from bullet wounds to amputations, surely a bit of radiation shall not hurt you, right?" Joan slammed her arms down on the desk. "Just because I'm desperate, I ain't going to go guns blazing into the grips of death. Nothing good is going to come out of going there, and you know it. I ain't accepting your offer."
"But if I am not correct, there shall be something good which shall come from it." The Representative retorted, "You shall save the life of your dearly beloved father from the jaws of death, and in turn you will sacrifice yourself to a higher purpose. If I know you, you shall not be put down so easily by radiation. All I ask is that you consider your circumstance, and then our offer."
Joan sat up from the chair, "I'll consider it." She replied, after deliberation, and extended her hand for a handshake. Well, the closest thing she had left to a hand anyway. Her entire right arm had long since been amputated, and all that was left was the stump and an omnic limb: A sore reminder of how she had found herself maimed in the first place. The Vishkar Representative went to shake her hand, then recoiled. "On second thoughts, I would rather shake with the other hand. The one that might not be so swiftly able to end my life." The Representative said. Joan groaned, but decided to oblige and extended her left hand. The two hands met, and the downward motion of the two hands connected perhaps confirmed the agreement. "I look forward to working with you." The Representative said. Joan replied, "Likewise." She said, both of them with a stern expression dictating to each other that they would not be engaging in such activities if they had any other choice.
"You know, if you want we can replace that arm for you if you wish." The Representative added, "We can ensure that it has the same functionality as before, but with so much more versatility and... finesse." He struggled to articulate the last word of his statement, his disgust at the omnic arm overtaking him. "Don't worry about it, this one's far too sentimental to part with." Joan replied, "Besides, it kills things just fine, so I don't need a new one." The Representative nodded, before sitting down.
Joan walked towards the door as if to leave, but the Representative stopped her. "Before you depart, I must have that folder back from you, Joan." He said, "I cannot let you leave the headquarters with classified material." Joan turned her back to him. "Meh, have it." She said, and threw the folio above her head as she headed for the door, paper spilling across the floor. "I probably won't read it anyway." She added, as she exited through the doorway.
"Damn, I wish we could kill her quickly with an execution instead of a mission." The Representative said under his breath as the automated doors closed behind her, "But I suppose that red tape exists for a reason."