undercover

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Sunhawk said, gesturing for another round of ales.

“Don’t bother finishing that sentence,” Moonhawk snapped at her brother. “Anybody starting a sentence with that or ‘with all due respect’ are about to insult you and hope if they say it nicely enough you wont hit them for it.”

“Fine, I’ll skip the formalities, you look great,” Sun said, keeping his face straight with a great deal of effort.

Moonhawk scowled at him. Her hand reflexively went to one of the many daggers she kept concealed about her personage, to remind people of their manners. Her hand came away empty and her scowl deepened. “ I feel naked,” she snapped, causing more than one head to turn in their direction in hopeful expectation. Moonhawk turned on them. “I said ‘feel’ not ‘am’.”

“Take it easy, this was your idea remember,” Sun said. Taking a swift sip of ale he managed to head off a smile.

“That was before I knew what was involved. This…this costume,” Moon spat the word out, gesturing to the elegant gown she wore, “is bad enough. Worse than even this, they won’t permit weapons in there.”

“They preach peace and tranquillity, weapons tend to inspire other things,” Sunhawk said. “You’re not exactly defenceless, and Hawkblade will come if you call it.”

“True,” Moon admitted grudgingly, taking a sip of her ale.

“So, aside from you don’t like their dress code and weapon rules, what have you found out so far?”

“They are cagy with new recruits, but from their surface thoughts they are definitely involved in the slavery ring. The idiots I’ve dealt with so far don’t know the main players. I have proven myself an ideal candidate, and should go in the next batch. We can take them down then.”

(Word Count 300)