She remembered that zone of the Headquarters very well.

Covens from 15th to 20th rank were usually referred to as "The Underworks", usually because they were formed by Mages who still had to learn how to work in team, or particularly badly trained ones, struggling to rise inside of the Order.

They were so useless to the Order that they weren't even given a proper home headquarters in the city, but just a small living quarter inside the same building of the official Headquarters. They were small apartments with common rooms, bathroom and kitchen, just enough for them to survive if they had no other living solution, and to offer them a space to share to get them to work together better.

She, Vopros and Chico had spent two years in one of those apartments, while they had to rise from 20th rank to 14th. Finally, past the terrible 15th rank, they were given Casa Pollos. Which was roughly as big as the inside apartments but had the great advantage of being far from all the Order's hubbub, and in a relatively good side of town after all.

She marveled at the thought that the Enforcer lived with the team. Garaham never spent one single night at the headquarters apartment and made very clear that he wanted to be as far from Casa Pollos as possible.

She had taken some time to get home and prepare some speed stew to go. It was the best way to present herself to someone. The piping hot Tupperware in a shopping bag, two cold beers in the other, she breathed deeply and knocked at the door with the self-explanatory golden plaque:

19th Coven
The Expendables

They didn't even put River's name on the plaque, as every other Enforcer had done. She had heard of other Enforcers fallen from grace, for bad mistakes or misconduct, but they were all eventually given a way to get back in the ranks. From what she had heard from Larry, River had simply been forgotten in that small room at the end of the corridor.

«Coming!» chimed a deep voice from inside. Then, the noise of fast steps approaching. The door cracking open. And a blond head, so many inches above hers, peeked out and looked down to her with a positively amazed expression.

Banshee swallowed sawdust. The enormous man was shirtless. She was pretty sure that there were no muscles under the armpits. Before seeing him. Now she wondered if he'd been offended if she had started counting his abs.

«Oh, hi. Can I help you?» he asked, with a devilish smile suddenly appearing on his perfect lips.

«Well... hi... I am... Banshee, I'm Banshee.» she saw a small spark of light in the background of his deep blue eyes.

«Nice to meet you, I'm River. But of course, you already knew. Come in, come in, don't stay on the door.» His voice was cheerful and his manners welcoming, keeping the door open for her and showing her in with a chivalrously wide gesture of his gigantic arm. She smiled, nodded and entered the small living room, furnished with catalog-quality furniture. A sofa, a tv, a bookshelf, a desk, some other surfaces.

«Meh, they truly don't bother decorating much, huh?» she said, searching for a way to break the awkward silence.

«Oh, nearly nobody notices the furniture when they enter anyway. Not if I'm inside the room.» he dismissed the topic with a malicious expression, shooting a perplexed look towards her shopping bags. «Oh, you brought your own stuff?»

«What?» asked Banshee, still trying to ignore the mass of dancing muscles in front of her. «Oh, these? Nay, I just hate visiting people empty-handed. I had had an education, ye know? That's fer ye.»

She handed him the shopping bags, happy to have packed a four-people Tupperware. Maybe it could have resulted in one full portion of food for that towering man.

He looked at the bags' content, suddenly baffled. He took out the beers and smelt the Tupperware, as if he wasn't expecting it to be food.

«You bought me food?» he asked, completely in a fog.

«Now yer insulting' me! That's me cooking, right there!» she jolted, the sudden surge of pride clearing her mind from the wave of hormones sieging it. River's face, for one moment, crystallized into an inexplicably lost expression. Then he shrugged lightly and put everything on the kitchen counter.

«Well... thanks. That's new.» he remarked, before turning towards her again and distractedly stretching his upper torso muscles. Banshee's mouth went sawdust again.

When she was finally able to lift her eyes into his, she saw the note of complete self-satisfaction on his expression, as if he perfectly knew what was going on in her mind, and not only there. There was a strange cold in those blue eyes, despite the charming smile and the friendly expression.

«So...» she tried to resume talking again. «... it's strange we've never met before, huh?»

«Nah, not strange. A pity, sure, but not strange. Me and my Coven we... we keep busy.» he replied, moving with incredible grace for his mass towards the sofa. He sat down, leaning on the sofa's seatback, his arms along it and his legs slightly open, well planted on the ground.

«Oh, believe me, I know.» she replied, remaining where she was for now. «I was just curious to get to know ye better, that's all.»

«Of course you would. Who doesn't want to know me better? Don't be so tense. Come here, come on!» he let go a little, amused laugh, patting the sofa beside him.

«Well, just to know, what are ye keeping busy with, that sort o' things. The things ye talk with other Mages o' the same, honorable Order...»

She slid on the sofa, at a spot's distance from River. Not that his arms couldn't reach her anyway.

«Oh, I know what I'm going to be keeping busy now, but you'll hardly have to ask about it all, I think.»

«What?» she asked, as he kept gazing at her as if he was studying her, rather than the contrary.

«Oh, come on now. Don't be shy. What's your game?»

«Me... game? I have no game, I'm just entertaining in good neighborhood activities. I think this Order goes a long way to try and alienate colleagues and...»

«Oh, no, not that game.» he laughed, heartily, and his face lit up like a galaxy of stars. So, he could get even more beautiful. «Your game game. I'll understand if you'll settle for good old me, but if you're searching for a truly unique time, we're happy to oblige!»

«Ye've still lost me...»

He looked at her, clearly waiting for the punchline, or for her to laugh, or any other indication that she wasn't seriously as lost as she seemed. A different shade of amusement and curiosity suddenly appeared on River's face when he realized she was actually that perplexed.

«Ok, let's ease you into it. Let's see. What's your favorite animal?» he asked.

«Me favorite animal? Let's see... I want to say "lion" but...»

His eyes shone again, and he lifted an enormous hand to signal her that it was enough. Under her amazed eyes, he closed his and took in a deep breath. Then, slowly and fascinatingly, he started to change. His face twisted in the fluxes of magic, until it resembled a perfect mix between a human face and a tiger's muzzle, complete with whiskers and slit-pupil golden eyes. Around his formidable neck, a thick mane started growing, rapidly becoming a glorious mass of red, soft hair. A velvety carpet of dark yellow fur covered every inch of his visible skin, while his body maintained his original manly form.

Banshee had seen people morphing before. It was one of the Top Four of the Disciplines of Magic, and it required great self-control and a perfect mastery of the fluxes, because if something went wrong, the Mage's body was to pay the price, directly. One could end up with one more limb, or losing an important organ, or with parts too much smaller or bigger than before. She had never seen anyone morphing with that ease.

With River, it all looked like a walk in the park, and the result was marvelous: a man-lion perfect in every detail. It came straight out from a furry maniac's wet dream.

«Woah... that's... impressive...» she muttered, completely aghast. The self-satisfied smile on his face let her understand that the compliment had been appreciated.

«So, any position preferences? Well, as long as you hate the sofa, you can stay under, so you're not forced to see it. It's much better if you look at me without being distracted by ugly stuff anywhoo.» he said, sliding closer to her. And this time, there was no misunderstanding.

«Woah woah woah! Stop it right there, Beauty of the Beast.» she lifted her hands between herself and the man. «I don't know what yer thinkin' but yer lightyears away from what I wanted.»

He looked extremely amused, even pleasantly surprised.

«What's wrong? Isn't it better if you just tell me what you like to fuck? I can go on guessing, but it could get tiresome after a bit.»

«What I'd like to...» the blatant confirmation of the song and dance she was desperately trying to match to a completely different line of thoughts was harsh on her. «... what the fuck man? I've just met ye!»

«So?» he was genuinely puzzled.

«So no, how could me fuck someone I've just met?»

River gazed at her again, deeply. She thought that his hand on her thigh was probably digging a hole, for how hot it was. After some seconds, he seemed to lighten up.

«Of course, of course, forgive me, I should have known. Well, I'll admit, It's not flattering at all but... we do aim for the customer's happiness after all.» and with another deep breath, he changed again, into someone completely different and very specific.

Banshee felt her heart stop when she found herself face to face with the spitting image of Garaham. From the ruffled brown hair to the deep hazel eyes, to the frowny expression and the less-than-perfect body.

But the devilish smile, yeah, it was River's, no doubt.

She jumped up from the sofa as if a scorpion had just bitten her.

«Are ye completely bonkers, lad?» she shrieked, as pale as a blanket. River half-laughed at first, then his face lost his mirth when he understood she was serious.

«What...»

«I told ye I'm not here to fuck ye, ye... ye... self-centered imbecile! For whom did ye take me, fer one o' those fallen women who deck the halls with boughs of STDs?»

«You... didn't come here to have sex with me, at all?» he asked, shocked. He morphed back to his own self with elegant rapidity.

«Of course, I didn't! I just came here to talk!»

«To talk? What could we possibly talk about? We're from different Covens and we're rivals, too! The only sensible thing to do is fuck!» he stood up from the sofa. He looked even hurt, in some strange way.

«Oh me God, yer serious!» she took a deep breath, trying not to be distracted by his pecs and abs again. «Listen, we're clearly from different worlds. I, I think enemies can talk, and in doing so they often discover they're thicker than friends. I thought this was one o' the times. I was wrong, apparently.»

«Oh come on, don't step on a pedestal now, even if to look me in the eye you'd have.» he retorted, with a childish offended voice. «You came here because you wanted information on us.»

«Of course, I did. But if I discovered ye was a good person in all that, I wouldn't have minded at all. I don't know nothing about you, or your friend Staccato, and I was just trying to understand what you wanted from us by talking directly instead of playing hide-and-seek. Well, fuck me for thinking Mages could do anything but to act like the fairytales they are!»

«So... you really really don't want to have sex with me?» he repeated, again, like it was some kind of universal impossibility.

«No! Sex isn't just a jump between the sheets with the first man who asks! It still means something to me! I haven't been fasting ten years for love to throw it all away for the first pretty face with incredible abs who pops in my sight!» she yelled, closing the topic.

She started marching towards the door. And there wasn't that much space to cover.

«Wait, you're forgetting your food and drink.» he called her back, still upset.

«I'm not forgetting. Ye eat it anyway. Or throw it away, me don't care. But a gift is a gift. Even to a jerk.» she sentenced, opening the door and slamming it behind her.

She marched down the corridor, still fuming with anger. She felt the comforting, if not physical, presence of Alzheimer around her.

She felt something tingling on the back of her neck. It wasn't magic. It was pure instinct. The same instinct she had discovered and polished, hiding in the tall grasslands of her homeland, waiting for a convoy to pass, or for a target to show himself in front of her gunsight.

Sheturned just in time to dodge a punch driven right to her face. She stiffenedand arched her back backward, as much as she could. The horizontal punchgrazed her by fractions of an inch. Her assailant landed two steps farther.