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Horruc laughs then coments,"Well to tell you the truth, I am the good guy. I'm a monk, but being as how I found a wrong do'er, I may have no choice but to do the right thing. Though I do have some exceptions." He says quickly before she could harm him. "I'm on a secret quest, that I'm not suposed to tell anyone about, though it would come in handy to have a person of your skill I guess."

"Whoa, I thought you were a thief. Assassin?! You must be skilled in lock picking and information gathering right. Please don't kill me. I'm a monk. That's a big no, no right? Ok, ok look there is a reward involved." Horrac histaricaly says as she treatened to kill him.

"Ok, ok, man never trust a treatened monk with a secret. Well it's kinda like a secret race. The Pope has told a certain number of monks about this artifact. Only problem is with a secret it gets leaked. When we find the artifact the Pope has promised a large reward, I know what your thinking the Pope obviously is giving enlightenment or some crap. Well that would have been the case but the pope was resently threatened by the Inquesition and so he upped the ante' so to speak, if people find it before they do and return it to the Pope they get a large sum of pure gold. Various amounts of pricless artwork. I wont be needing those items but if you spare me, go along with the ride, it might pay off." The monk spills out of him as he trys to make the reward intreging to the person trying to capitolize on the subject. "Please don't kill me."

"Well it's probubly the most meaningful priceless artifact ever. It's somewhere in Pennsilvania, I don't know exactly where, but many people are out to get it. The road ahead is dangerous, but I'm sure that wont be a problem for you would it." The monk says as he ponders a way to get out of there undetected,"I've got an idea, you could wear my robe, don't worry I'm not naked under here. No one would suspect a monk assassin. Right?"

Horrac laughed, "Ok, ok we'll do it your way, I could pretend I'm blind and you could be walking with me guiding me through the street." He wondered why he ever would take on such a partner, then remembering she almost killed him, he was content as far as the party goes.

"Help me my child my eyes are not what they used to be." He says acting like an old man "accidentaly" grabing her a**. "Oh my I'm so sorry, please excuse my intrusion, you had better hold my hand and guide it." He says smiling on the inside of himself.

Binge had never killed anyone before. Born Benjamin Christian Woolard he'd rejected his father's beloved Methodism at an early age, though the basic tenets of his upbringing suddenly resurfaced to guilt him as he stared down at the gradually spreading pool of blood.

Raven was the assassin, SHE was supposed to do the killing! But Binge hadn't been able to shake the police. He had a bad leg, after all, and wasn't so hot in the speed department. In his juvenile days he'd been relegated to getaway driver nine times out of ten. This time he'd had no choice; it was either him or the police officer lying face down on the floor.

With hands that always seemed to shake when he was nervous Binge pocketed the Colt and dialed Raven.