An Eye on the Prize, Part Six

Method: Six Weeks and Four Days Earlier. Beldin Autonomous Citadel.

Dal-Breea was a stunning woman. Thick hair piled into an elaborate, lacquered castle on her head. Her skin a healthy nut-brown and her almond eyes beautiful as they widened in surprise at Herion's intrusion.

'I do not know who you are, Sir, but I have no wish for bedplay. Leave or I shall call my guards.'

'I'm no Jackster Madame. The list. Give it to me.' Alastar strode towards her, ticking dynamo pistol outstretched.

Her face screwed up into a hate-filled fist.

'You!' she screamed. 'Filthy unevolved Thirdest heretic. I'll have your skin for coming in here.'

Herion backhanded her, sending her tumbling backwards in a flurry of heavy skirts. Dal-Breea continued to curse him as he searched her room for the case.

'Be quiet, woman,' he snapped.

'I'll not, you're non-believing filth. Breathing the same air as you sickens me. Win knows how you tricked the Overseer's into giving you tech...'

Alastar Herion turned and calmly shot her in the head.

'I did ask her to be quiet,' he whispered to himself. Herion scanned the room as he span his pistol's charging handle; spotting a glimmer of silver under the dead woman's voluminous skirts. When he finally felt the rumble of his gun registering a full charge, Herion rolled her body over to reveal the case he sought then picked it up and made for the 'Pointless Venture' at the fastest practicable speed.