"To think the heavens would toss me a gift like this… right after I got fired," Cisco sighed inwardly, his smile never faltering.
The memory still stung. He had been too greedy. Far, far too greedy.
Earlier that very morning, Cisco had nearly pulled off the con of the year. He had convinced one of those corporate young masters that an old, battered E-grade sword was a rare relic worth a billion credits. He spun his words like golden threads, painting the weapon as if it had once been wielded by a legendary hunter whose name was "conveniently lost to history." The rich fool swallowed every word, his eyes sparkling with imagined glory.
It had been perfect. Too perfect.
Until another hunter, sharper-eyed and sharper-tongued, stepped in. He exposed the blade for what it really was: junk. Rusted steel worth less than a meal at a noodle stand.
