Chapter 2: Ombre

She immediately made him understand what the word 'beautiful' meant. She had a cold, regal bearing and an inherent level of grace that impressed him, and her body was without fault, curvaceous and lush; her clothing did little to conceal this. Shepard had hoped that through some biological fluke, he would be immune to some of the effects of the hormones in his system; perhaps a side effect of his psychopathy, of which he was well aware, even proud. He had never encountered evidence to contradict this hope. Until now. Thaddaeus felt the teeth of lust inside his head, and laughed at himself, in his usual ironic fashion. So much for that particular delusion of grandeur. He returned his attention to the woman, about four years older than himself, he guessed. Her expression had changed from calmly neutral to cold displeasure. Obviously, she was unused to amusement being the reaction men had when they saw her.

Shepard coughed. "I apologise. My amusement was directed at myself, not at you. Damn hormones..." He muttered, then perceived that she had heard him. "Don't worry; I seem to have some remaining capacity for rational thought. My amusement was due to the vain hope that I would be immune to this sort of thing. How may I help you?"

Miranda Lawson was somewhat taken aback by this particular specimen of humanity.

Niket had warned her that this Ombre would be a mere adolescent, but she'd still expected someone on the other side of sixteen. Apparently he was some sort of teenage psychopath prodigy that had been forced from the straight and narrow by circumstance, and found that he'd liked it. Even more impressive, he was completely self-taught. Apparently, all sorts of organisations were interested in tapping into his potential, including Cerberus, who had requested that she attempt to bring him into the organisation with her, when she made them aware of her plan. She now felt that this was something of a vain hope. For a start, of all the reactions to her appearance she had observed, from open lust to awe and even fear, this one's was unique. He had acknowledged her appearance, and his physical reaction to it, mocked himself for it, seeing it as a weakness, and moved on.

Then, there was his appearance, his obviously young face already gaunt and bleached due to his nocturnal activities. And, there was that cynical, ironic awareness in his eyes, that he had seen the world, and had no illusions about it, that made her think that the only way to recruit this... assassin, would be with money. He would believe in nothing else. And it would cost an obscene amount, either in currency or time in haggling. Miranda found herself intrigued, finding a specimen as abnormal as herself, but realised that now was not the time. She entered a command into her Omni-tool (a piece of equipment she noticed he eyed enviously, with more desire in his eyes than when he looked at her-not that it took much), which would send out a false recording of the conversation to her father's surveillance devices. He believed that she was there to engage this boy's services for the company, when in actuality; he would be working to sever her ties with it.

"I take it you are Thaddaeus Shepard, also known as Ombre?" Shepard thought for a moment. Slight Australian accent, intonation and speech patterns tied in with everything else to indicate that she came from money; and about as far as was possible from the gangs. Clearly, he'd attracted too much attention to himself, again. Damn.

"I am." He admitted carefully. Good. Miranda thought. No childish denials, like I might have expected. So young, and already a professional. "So, who are you and which corporation do you represent?"

Surprisingly close. "My name is Miranda Lawson." No risk telling him that; she didn't exist on any records, anyway, thanks to her father. "I am here as a private individual, although if I feel that your performance is adequate, there may be an employment opportunity for you that would remove you from these... charming surroundings. Employment with an organisation called Cerberus."

"Human supremacist paramilitary group. I've heard of them. They think I'm that special, do they?" He said with his lip slightly curled, in contempt for a group with such beliefs. They were irrational. Xenophobia was fine by him, as long as everyone was counted as xenos; this was essentially his world view. Anything else could be dismissed as bigotry and hypocrisy; little better than superstition, which Shepard held in the deepest contempt of all. "I'm interested." The woman looked mildly surprised; clearly she had noticed his contempt and had not expected such a response. "I don't have to believe in their cause to take their money, Miss Lawson. Besides, it is clear that I need to change my allegiances, if the Black Sun was so ineffective at concealing me. This 'Cerberus' is stronger, if the few times I've heard of it are any indication. What's the job?"

"I need you to stake out a rendezvous, eliminate any suspicious activity as quietly as possible, then meet the individual and escort them off of the planet. Transport will be provided."

"And why do you want to get off-planet, Miss Lawson? From whom are you fleeing?" She looked at him steadily. "Fair enough. I am a professional, I'm sure I don't need the details, but information is power, after all. What strength opposition will we be facing?" She raised an eyebrow. "Come now, I can recognise the bearing of an individual trained for combat as well as any military man. Besides, if you were unwilling to get your hands dirty if necessary, I'd turn you down."

"Professionals, mercenaries, but theoretically, little more than heavily armed thugs."

"In that case, I'll require heavier weaponry, preferably with a better range to it, as well." He said, drawing his beloved P22 from its armpit holster to show it to her.

"I predicted as much. Firearms have always been difficult to come by in the UK." Miranda said, picking up the suitcase she had brought, and opened it to reveal a disassembled sniper rifle. She put it together with practised ease, Shepard noticed, beginning to find her interesting for more reasons than just her appearance.

"The Knight M110 SASS, semi automatic sniper rifle. Equipped with a silencer, as well as a conventional scope that can be adjusted to night vision. Ammunition is armour piercing, and is in clips of ten rounds each. I trust that this will be adequate?"

"I believe so. When is the rendezvous?"

"Tonight. Midnight. The rendezvous will be in the plaza outside the local headquarters of the Rossum Corporation. I apologise for the short notice, but devising a plausible reason to contact you proved... complex."

"It's fine." He assured her, his eyes on the weapon. "That should be ample time for me to familiarise myself with the weapon. I'll be there from ten pm, as soon as it's dark. As for my fee, I'm sure a 'modest' sum to you will exceed anything I've ever earned from the Black Sun." She nodded and left. Neither of them wished each other luck. They each knew what they were doing, and if luck came into it, they would have serious problems.