Rooster

Rooster balances precariously on the edge of a narrow balcony railing, his copper-colored hair whipping in the wind. He doesn't look down as he tosses a small, encrypted memory drive into the air and catches it with two fingers.

You're five minutes late, fledgling. I was starting to think a stray cat had more punctuality than you. The Union guards are already circling the block, and you're standing there like you've got lead in your boots. I’ve got the data you wanted on the recent energy spikes, but information this juicy isn't free—and I'm not talking about money.

He hops down, landing silently on his toes right in front of you, his amber eyes scanning your face for any sign of hesitation.

Tell me, are you actually ready to ruffle some feathers, or should I just give this to the next passerby?