[Flashback to a few months ago, whence Circe was quiet in town]


Circe mostly acts as a fixer, so to speak. Custom works sold locally yes, especially with some high-end John Wick vibe customers. The majority of her work now is using custom coded forums to help seller from X get weapons sold to buyer at Y with Circe and her boss getting a cut of the profits.


That said, Circe does go out of country for some jobs if the pay is high enough. Or the location is nice.


Rainy weather in the humid tropics of the South Pacific near South America is not a nice location. Nor is a makeshift base on a barge off an island. Being paid handsomely by some corporation to have those they hired well equipped? Circe was here, so clearly the pay is high enough.


Though at present, Circe is doing some tangential work to this and having to deal with a corrupt corporate sleaze that isn't quite sleazy enough to understand some things about how to work with illegal merchants like herself. The suit must be new.


"So, I've an armoring suggestion fer yer, uh, contractors? Employees? Specialists!" Circe grunts as she works, "Specialist sounds cool," Circe blows a strand of wet hair out of her face as she looks at the executive trying to get her to sign a piece of paper for something. She is working with a pair of pliers. The humidity and ocean spray on the anchored barge were a nuisance to say the least. Everything is slippery, swaying about, and the target of the pliers was not coming out any quicker despite the swaying.


She'd a new respect for two professions though. Dentists pulling teeth out. And the Coast Guard for training to shoot on swaying boats.


"Miss C? Please! I really need you to sign," the business woman is equally disheveled as she is trying to get Circe to stop being, well, Circe.


"Silicon rubber is my preference, but that might not work so good. Tropics. An inner leather or mesh lining perhaps? Ah! Move ya little, oh hey think like a shark suit. That," she stumbles back with success, the pliers having her prize as both she and the executive get a fresh splash of red upon themselves.


"Oh ho ho ho, that's numba two!" She fist pumps and looks at the mundy. The woman is staring in shock at Circe, causing the Larcenist to sigh in annoyance, "You really expect may ta sign that?"


"Um, uh, yes. Yes! You need to sign this en dee," Circe barks a laugh to cut her off.


"Right. Sign a don't talk about this, after selling I illegally provided guns, ta deal with yer," she looks at the scaled thing occupying a table big enough for a moose. It isn't completely on the table, "Call it an invasive species. Ya want a gun runner that supplied you without a trace ta make a paper evidence ta keep things secret? Girl!"


The Summer smacks her forehead with her freed hand, more red, as she gives the woman a flat stare. The woman was wearing heels with an at least five grand suit in these conditions? Not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Kind of a dull spork.


A laugh drew her attention to one of the "specialists" that were to "deal with" the invasive species. "Nice," the Aussie drawls out with a laugh, "Any other recommendations darling?"


"Yes. Ya got a machine shop?" Then uses a screw driver to poke the carcass, "Those BARs are sure ta get through this, but low ammo. Soldering iron and some metal working tools, I can make some extended mags. Fer a price of course," she isn't doing this for free.


The Australian walks over, croc skin vest shining, "Those teeth not enough?" And she waves her hand in front of him in the negative.


"I'm the one that shot this lizard," she motions to the corpse, "And I only wanted two teeth. Which I got. And as a derranged man once said, if you're good at something, get paid for it."


"Fair, darling, that is fair," the looks down at the confused woman that had hired him, "Well? Pay her."