Nothing said suspicious like a motorcycle buried in a shrub. Very carefully at that. Emerald-esque leaves covered the machinery without even touching the precious parts. June would kill someone if it got so much as a blemish. A scratch would send her into a murderous frenzy.

That’s why she’d been so late and rolled up to the scene with her hands in her pockets. Act casual, and look normal. Wasn’t very normal to be in some random ass part of a forest, though. When would people learn that it was more normal to meet with a friend in a coffee shop or dingy bar than some bum-fuck nowhere clearing?

“Sorry, got lost in the forest,” she jerked her thumb backward, “was looking for a single tree.”

The delivery girl stopped in her tracks. Her client was wearing a bulky as hell gas mask. In the middle of summer. Why? On second thought, not something she wanted to know. But it did help determine the kind of person she dealt with.

This chick was nuts to a degree. Thankfully, the only thing she smelt so far was pollen and grass. When that changed to poison, she’d need to run fast and far. That, or she wanted to tag a few trees in protest of… something.

Fucking Howard. Always gave her the crazy people. “Did Fox tell you to plan a meet up here? Just because he’s your superior doesn’t mean you need to listen, y’know. I’ve negotiated drug deliveries in neighborhood playgrounds before– no one really cares as long as you don’t look out of place.”

Nothing screamed out of place like a forest and a gas mask. Maybe she wanted to burn it down? “What do you want?”

---

Absinthe Blackwood

Well, one thing was for certain: June was truly in the presence of a Rocket. Only a true terrorist would insist on secrecy above all else. It was almost a mark of pride, it felt, to choose to go to the most asinine places for a meeting. Past June would’ve insulted her client and made her never do it again.

Unfortunately, she now knew enough Rockets to nod her head and not say a word about it.

“Briefcase, schmriefcase,” June said as she snapped her fingers. Foliage shifted, branches bent, and a storm of ember-kissed feathers blanketed their heads. A sizeable Talonflame emerged and descended from the heavens, a thick black rectangle in her talons. June reached up and yanked it from the bird, which eventually settled next to her feet.

“Piece of cake,” she held it out to Absinthe. Whatever it was, it felt dangerous. Maybe it was the mystique, but that was infinitely more preferred than the knowledge of the contents. That’s how she disappeared without a trace in the dead of night. “This better not be a radiation hazard.”

As if that should make her fearful. Violet had likely done a number on her body as was. “Is that what the gas mask is for? Do I need to get screened for… whatever the hell is so important in here?”

---

Absinthe Blackwood

Damn. Chemistry was a bitch, wasn’t it? Yet again, the apple didn’t far from the tree.

“But if you killed me, you’d never get your hands on your neuro-whats-it– whatever the fuck you have a fetish for,” she crossed her arms. “Seriously, I don’t need the deetz. Next time, just tell me it’ll be the worst last minutes of my life like a normal person.”

The horrible ways to die via chemical interactions weren’t a topic of interest for the delivery girl. It was a weird fucking hobby to have. Like collecting those anime figurines. Or funeral urns.

“Oh, and also because if it somehow breaks, I’ll be the one fucking dying,” she jabbed a finger at her ‘client’. “Sorry, that wasn’t a stupid question, let me rephrase: would it kill you to warn me next time?”

Whatever. Failure on all fronts, what was new. Howard couldn’t warn her of who she was delivering for, Absinthe couldn’t be bothered to throw a warning label on the side, and she couldn’t give a flying fuck about whatever the nutso was going to do with the stuff.

“I’ll even throw in a protection clause: delivered safely or your money back,” she said. Not that she was paying. Howard was paying her for this delivery, right? She should really double-check that when she got back. “If you really want, I can say pretty pretty please. Maybe even with a cherry on top.”

---

Absinthe Blackwood