On a day like today, a hot summer one, it was clear that this was the biggest city in Spain. Madrid was bustling with people, natives and tourists alike, but the average citizen was not the concern of the female BSAA agent who wandered the streets. One of the American victims of Black Velvet noted his dealer said something about this city, about "going back home." It was the most direct lead she'd gotten these past few months of searching for the source of the drug, despite the clear issue of Madrid's population. For the agent, specially trained in field work, it shouldn't have been hard to find the next clue, especially since it was looking for her.

She wore dark sun glasses and a hooded black vest. Black shorts and sandals contrasted with her pale skin, making her look more ghostly than she normally did despite the exposure to the harsh Spanish sun. She wished she could've enjoyed this as a vacation, but things were about to get really dark. She had made a deal with the victim, offering the best medical care in exchange for his dealer's contact information. After some talking to the latter, the agent was able to set up a deal with him here in Madrid. There was some sort of base-of-operations in the country, she gathered from how he spoke, and she was determined to get in there.

She found a nice little shopping area, with benches, just like the place the dealer had described in their call. She sat and waited.

It wasn't long before she was approached. A man in a white suit sat next to her on the bench, facing the opposite direction. His hair was long and black, tied back, and his face was covered in a salt-and-pepper brush of beard and moustache. He spoke quietly, his voice the same as what she heard on the phone with its Spanish lilt. No middle men, it looked like.

"Do you have the cash?"

The agent nodded, still looking out into the crowd as she flashed a roll of green. They weren't real, just really good fakes, but the dealer didn't have to know that.

"Good. Come with me." He left, then she did.

They went down streets and side streets and alleys for almost and hour until they came to a non-descript door on a non-descript building in a non-descript place of the city. The dealer led her in, entering first. It was just an office, it seemed, with a bunch of boxes along the side. A desk with a couple of chairs on one side and a rolling chair on the other sat in the middle. The man took the rolling chair, leaving the agent to the normal chairs. It almost looked like an honest business.

"So you are seeking to acquire some of our substance?"

Again the agent nodded. Using big words? What does he take me for, some teen twit?

"Then you've come to the right place, girl." He looked her over with hungry eyes. He rolled over to the boxes and picked one up. "I know I already told you a cost, but I've changed my mind about that. I need something a little extra from you." He cleared his throat.

"What would that be?" the agent asked innocently. She sounded younger than she was, a benefit in a situation like this. He really did take her for a teenager.

"Take off those shorts." No romancing, no nonsense. Pity, she liked it when they played games with her. She turned and cradled her elbows in her arms.

"I don't know…" she had worry in her voice. Come over here and get them off of me… She heard his chair roll. Take the bait.

"Now don't you worry, I won't hurt you…" She felt a hand on her leg. Where's your other hand…? After a few moments the other hand found her ribs, gently moving towards her hip. Sucker.

In one smooth motion she pulled a gun from inside her vest, pistol-whipped the man, and pinned one of his arms under her foot in a way that he couldn't move without pain. She wished she could've been able to do that eight years ago.

"Oh? Well I'll hurt you, sorry." She pulled the hammer on her small pistol back, making it click.

"Argh!" His face was twisted with pain. "Get off of me bitch!" He writhed, but every motion got his arm more pain. "What do you want?!"

"Who is getting you this drug?"

"Like I'd tell- ARGH!" She put more force down on the arm.

"Who is getting you the drug?"

What the dealer said next made her freeze, her blood run cold, no matter how much she expected it.

"SALAZAR!" She let up on him. He made an exasperated noise, pain being relieved. "A man named Salazar…"

Shit. She thought. But he's dead, Leon killed him so there's no way it could really be the same guy… "What do you know about him?"

"I know he gets us this drug."

"Don't be a smart ass." She stepped down on his arm.

"STOP! Stop! I don't know much, okay! He's American but I don't know much else."

"Height? Age?" American…? That's a good sign...

"I don't know! I haven't ever stood next to the guy and found out, I only see him every so often. He's a little taller than you, I think. All I know is he gets us the drug and takes 50% of the money we make from the sales. He's the best guy I've ever worked for, he's made my family's life better…"

"Save your sob-story." She got off of the man's arm and pocketed her gun. She grabbed the box of Black Velvet capsules and glared hard at the groveling man before her. "Not a word of this gets to Salazar, alright? Keep your mouth shut and your family keeps their good life." She started to walk out.

"Wait!" the man cried out. She stopped and turned. "His first name is Rich, I remember. Rich Salazar. He has a route he runs every couple of months. My place is the first he hits, and it's been a week since he dropped the stuff off. He'll be in a place called Los Musgo" She nodded and turned. "Don't say I didn't do anything for you guys… I'm only in this for my family. Please don't let them hurt my family."

She left him there, making no promises. If you cared about your family you would've just taken the money and not tried anything else…

Now she had a name and a lead. The surname she expected, but by no means wanted. The first name was different, which made her feel a little better about this whole thing. Salazar was actually a common name. But what got her was this guy ran a route, set enough that the dealers knew, at least a little well, what it was. Either he wanted to be found, or he was an idiot. Whatever the case was she was going on a little adventure.