It was a crowed night at the Carcass when Fox entered. He spotted some UNIT uniforms, a few other groups as well. And of course, there were the free agents. Smith and Jones, a husband and wife duo that shows up on the scene in the early tens were playfully bickering about something in the middle of the room. Kersh, a more than slightly psychotic mercenary had glass of whisky at his table, but he was more interested in playing his with knife. That guy even managed to unstill Quill. Lyra, only waitress the place had, was going from table to table, a pink creature that resembled a Spynx cat with gills on its large ears, by her side. From Fox's understanding it was part of her soul, and distance caused physically pain. That was why she was here, everyone was in the know, so there was no reason for her to try to hide it, not with Sonja protecting her. The woman herself was scrubbing down the bar, carefully eying the scene.
And sitting at a corner table, a blindingly beautiful woman with long strait hair the color of raven's wings was nursing a brandy Alexander.
This was the woman Fox was looking for. He walked over to the table and sat down. "Hello, Azazel."
"Fox," Azazel responded, almost coolly, taking a sip of her drink, "I was unaware we had business together."
"New business has come up," Fox explained, "I was hoping maybe you could help me with it."
"And this business would be?" Azazel asked, staring at him with impossibly large, bright olive colored eyes.
"What can you tell me about a group called the Governors?" Fox asked, getting right to the point.
"The Governors?" Azazel responded, "I'm afraid I'm going to need a little more than that. Does this have anything to do with your venture at that school? What was the name again?"
"Coal Hill Academy." Fox answered.
Azazel was silent for a moment. "Give me, uh…three days." She began, "On the night of the third day we'll meet back here, and if I have anything, we'll talk price."
"Those terms are acceptable." Fox agreed.
Azazel smiled at him, taking a sip of her drink.
Fox just looked at her, not sure of what they were doing.
"Well, I'm at least finishing this drink before I get to work." Azazel told him, "Feel free to go about your business."
"Right," Fox began awkwardly, getting up, "I'll be off, then."
Three days later, Fox came back to the bar, but found Azazel's usual table empty.
Maybe she's just late. He thought, sitting down. It would be out of character for her, but things do happen.
Just then Lyra came up to him. "Scotch, baby bourbon, or New York corn?"
"Scotch," Fox requested, since he didn't know how long he would be at that point.
By the time Lyra got back with the Scotch, Azazel still hadn't arrived. He drank it ridiculously slowly, but still by the time he had finished, she still hadn't arrived.
"She hasn't been here all day." Sonja informed, going to get a bottle of vodka from the supply.
Fox turned his head to her. "What?"
"Azazel." Sonja elaborated, "She's usually in here for a business meeting or something else, but she's been AWOL since yesterday. It's actually kinda weird."
Suddenly a tremor of alarm went through Fox. "Sonja," He began urgently, "Do you know where Azazel lives?"
At one of the nicer apartments across town Azazel was heading out of her building as if she was sneaking out of some place she wasn't supposed to be, with a roller suitcase and a matching bag.
"Going somewhere, Azazel?" A voice from behind her asked. She whirled around and found a familiar Torchwood Four operative standing there."
"Fox," Azazel began, somewhat tense, "What are you doing here?"
"You tell me." Fox countered, "You missed our appointment."
"And you should thank God for that." Azazel told him, walking away.
Fox reached out and grabbed her by the arm, tightly. "Tell me what you found, Azazel."
"Something bigger than either of us," Azazel warned, pulling back, "Now, I'll tell you this: If you care anything about the rest of your team, you will pull them all out of there, now. Goodbye and good luck."
"Azazel!" Fox called, out but she just kept walking, "Azazel!"
"Don't make a scene, Fox!" Azazel called back, "You know I feel no guilt about working double standards to my advantage!"
It was true. They had heard about her doing it before. Fox had no choice but to watch her walk away.
The street was almost barren as Azazel tried to hail a cab, but she still felt as if she was being watched. Her eyes glanced around and she saw nothing. She felt momentarily safe until she turned around again.
Standing less than two feet of her was stature of a fanged angel, it's arms out stretched towards her.
The intel broker screamed, running down the street without taking her eyes off that statue. That was how it worked, wasn't it? If you weren't looking at them, they couldn't move? That was why she never saw the other statue, only felt it as it grabbed her.
She kept screaming until it broke her neck.