Rule 236: You can't buy fate.

Brunt didn't like to admit it, but he'd had an unexpected restful night. The brothers had managed to keep quiet after they had returned to his quarters. During the night, as far as Brunt could tell, they had played a card game that involved no verbal announcements at all, was played extremly slow, and obviously mixing the cards wasn't neccessary either. Whatever this game was, the noises resulting from it where on a level that didn't bother a tired Ferengi and that was all he needed to know. If one - or both - of his bodyguards had slept he couldn't tell. He had. For the first time in weeks he had slept. Without waking startled at the tiniest sound, clutching at his disruptor and scanning the room for intruders of the Syndicate. Of course, he had still kept the disruptor under his pillow, even though he realized how pointless it was as long as Ariev had his disruptor dampening device.

The next day around late noon, Ariev and Dh'amon had left, saying they had to take care of 'certain things'. Brunt hadn't asked what these things were, he had just let them escort him to the promenade and then go wherever they had to go. He had eaten lunch at Quark's, the most crowded place at this time of the day, making it also the safest place to be. But now, when he had finished his meal and the bar slowly got emptier, he began to wonder if protection with such obvious breaks was really worth 15 bars of latinum. After the incident on the corridor, the night before, even two experienced head hunters like the Flaxians would have reconsidered their plans. Whether there were two half Cardassians playing cards in his quarters or not, they wouldn't have tried to slit his throat again that night. They had lingered somewhere, thought of a new strategy and then lured him away from the promenade to finish the job. In a moment that seemed just as harmless and safe as... right now.

Brunt's heart almost stopped when his wandering glance was drawn to two Flaxians. They stood, back to his table, at the bar, ordering drinks, it appeared. Brunt couldn't be certain if they had seen him earlier, or even if were the Flaxians trying to kill him. He also didn't know if it was wise to try and escape to the promenade. He tried to focus his thoughts. If he just stayed where he was, there was a chance the Flaxians wouldn't see him and just leave the bar. Or turn around and be just two other Flaxians he had never met. If he would get up and try to reach the crowded promenade, he would cross their range of sight. Damn, he had been in this bar so many times, and he had never checked for additional exits! There had to be another way out. A back door, some small corridor leading to the kitchen or storage room or something like that...

The Flaxians had meanwhile recieved the ordered drinks and turned around, looking for a table. And of course, one of them spotted Brunt, nodded to his companion and a moment later, both walked over to him, grinning. For a second, Brunt wanted to jump up and run to the exit. Maybe, just maybe, the Flaxians wouldn't want to spill their drinks and therefore, wouldn't pursue him. But in the next second, Brunt realized how ridiculous this thought was, and he was right. The Flaxians had reached his table, pulled chairs over and seated themselves.

„What a small station it is, don't you think, Ferengi?" the rapid fire champion smiled. „Indeed it is", the second Flaxian added. He reached under his jacket and pulled out a small flacon with a greenish liquid. „Do you know what this is?" he asked. Brunt managed to shake his head. He didn't know and he didn't want to know. „It's the extract of the Niberian bano fruit", the Flaxian said, as if it would explain anything. „It has a number of really interesting effects." The other Flaxian nodded. „A poison that kills really slowly", he added. „Before you die, you experience strong hallucinations, in combination with panic attacks and very painful cramps. But you'll be conscious and have enough time to tell us what we want to know." The head hunter opened the flacon, poured the liquid into Brunt's snail juice and smiled. „And by the way, I hear it also tastes great. You should try it." His eyes narrowed when he added: „Or we try later today after we learn how many stitches into a Ferengi skull I need to sharpen my dagger."

„Or you could try today's special offer."

A green hand slammed a high, thin bottle with a dull liquid onto the table; the label almost completely black. There was only a tiny white symbol on the upper border, and Brunt had never seen it before nor knew what it meant. But he didn't need to know. The hand of the self-proclaimed waiter was green; no doubt, the Syndicate had sent someone else to finish the job. And naturally, the Flaxians felt insulted because their boss had no trust in their abilities.

„Don't stick your nose into our business", one of the head hunters growled. The other one just stared at the bottle and the tiny symbol and it was hard to guess what he was thinking. When no-one said anything, the other Flaxian's glance slowly moved across the table, up the bottle and stopped at the symbol, too. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the Flaxians got up and hurried to the exit, without even turning around once. Brunt risked it, turned his head, and saw the head hunters leaving the bar to the promenade.

„Rule 239", the green waiter said and pulled over one of the chairs to sit down. „Never be afraid to mislabel a product." Just now, Brunt noticed that something was wrong with this Orion. Not only the irony of getting lectured on Ferengi law by his assassin. It was also the strange shade of green and most of all the antennae. „I'm... not sure I understand?" Brunt almost managed to get a complete sentence together.

Maahir opened his bottle and took a sip, then he offered the drink to Brunt. „It's Kanar. Bleached with rubar acid", he said. „Tastes awful, but gets the job done." The Ferengi watched him suspiciously. „It's not really poison?" Remembering something, he pushed his poisoned snail juice away. The Orion with the antennae laughed. „No, just looks toxic." He turned the bottle so Brunt could see the label. „It's the symbol of the Dao'Kkae, Nausicaan head hunters. Every head hunter in the quadrant knows it." He took another sip. „If the bottle was real, it would mean the Flaxians just made it on the blacklist of the Dao'Kkae." Finally, Brunt understood. „So the Syndicate didn't send you?" „If the Syndicate sent me..." Maahir repeated, amused and disgusted at once. „Actually, they did. They sent me away, years ago. My father is in the Syndicate. A boss, even. Got a slave girl for his birthday, from a business partner. And what a surprise, their son wasn't a pure Orion..." He watched his bottle, lost in thought. „So when I was too old to be hidden, my so-called father sent me away. So if that's your question, my answer is yes. The Syndicate did send me. Just not after you or anyone else." He grinned at Brunt. „But I'm not complaining. Ravennah got a keen sense for business. In a few years, after my naturalization on Breen, I can drink Kanar all day and spend the rest of my life sending Nausicaan pirates after my father."

He got up, but left the bottle on the table. „Have fun for now. There's still some time before the Bolian dinner." Maahir turned to leave, Brunt got up and followed him a few steps. „Wait a second! What am I supposed to do if the Flaxians come back?" he stuttered. Maahir stopped. „They won't", he said. „But just in case, I'll be around. If you need me, I'll be over at the Bajoran temple making sure the donations for the war orphans ends up in my pocket." Brunt wanted to reply, but Maahir just walked over to the door. Over his shoulder, he added: „Rule 144, you know..."

„Charity isn't a bad thing as long as the money ends up in your pocket..." Brunt sighed and nodded slowly.