Ryven's quarters were lit only by the glow of his personal neocom terminal and the ember burning at the end of his cigarette. The swirling tendrils of grayish blue smoke framed his face as he scanned the display of personal information on Krystal Lamont, the unintentional progeny of Titus and some hooker in Sinq Laison. Her life had been nothing special. Little to no education, a few arrests for assault, and now part of a pirate crew, most likely turning free tricks for her room and board care of the Guristas. She was only 24 years old with common enough features, but definitely of Haijikioten blood, judging by the cold eyes and brutish bone structure only slightly softened by her Intaki mother's genes. She looked Civire. Ryven grinned. He need only find a way to ensure a pitched battle with her Guristas brethren and he could almost certainly ensure her demise, free of any trace of his involvement. The key would be getting in touch with a member of the gang in need of some financial gain, and plying him with it. A little ISK up front, and a quick murder after to ensure his silence. Ryven leaned back in his chair, a smile creeping onto his face. All would be right soon.
