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READ THE STORY BELOW FIRST for these illustrations to make sense : )

   “Dr. Fíbra to conference room A4, please.”

    My head swiveled to glare at the loud speaker hanging near the cafeteria’s ceiling. I had JUST started my lunch break, dammit. Not that I had been looking forward to more than a cup of coffee and a Chemistry Monthly magazine, but still. I was tempted to act as if I hadn’t heard the summons… but that would be a bad idea. The hospital board members made it crystal clear that if you were summoned via announcement, you had damn well better obey.

    Unless someone was dying on an operating table in front of you, but that was about the only excuse.

    I sighed, putting down the mug I had just drawn from a shelf in the warm, quiet hospital cafeteria, and turned to start the trek to the wing of the enormous building that housed the conference rooms. It was a peaceable enough journey. I had been working in this new building for nearly two years; I knew my way around.

    Despite my experience with the place, no one I passed offered a greeting, or even acknowledged my existence. I had a reputation for being antisocial, and I preferred it that way. It meant that I was less distracted from my work, instances like this summons aside. During the three-or-so-minute walk to conference room A4, I couldn’t fathom what I was being called for.

    I waited for the sleek white door to slide open before stepping inside. In the room, which could easily fit twelve, there was just one Irken leaning against the table in the center. Male, close to six feet tall and looking quite snappy in a dark grey suit and red tie. He was holding a briefcase. The first thing I noticed after his general appearance was his eyes—instead of being a typical solid red, they had shades of purple. Interesting.

    But not more interesting than that cup of coffee I had been planning to enjoy.

    The Irken spotted me immediately and pushed off from the table with a polite smile.

    “Dr. Fíbra, I presume?” He offered his hand. I responded with a suspicious look before giving it a limp shake, not masking my displeasure at being here.

    “You presume correctly. Can I help you with something?” I grunted.

    The male arched a brow, probably taking note of the fact that I didn’t ask for his name in return, as was the correct social behavior.

    I didn’t care.

    He spoke again, keeping his tone mild. “I do hope so, yes. My name is Marci. I’m here on a business matter, Doctor, which involves you quite specifically.”

    Oh fuck. This guy was a lawyer. Guess someone was suing my ass.

    “My organization was hoping to utilize your skills in chemistry.”

    Ah. So much for that. “My chemistry skills?” I echoed. “What for?”

    “Well…” Marci turned to his briefcase on the table, unlocking it and flicking the lid open. “We’re hoping you would be able to refine certain chemical properties from an ingredient we have recently been collecting; a type of seaweed, as a matter of fact.”

    He held a digital holo-screen toward me. When I accepted it, the device beeped and the screen flickered to life, displaying numbers, formulas, notes and instructions.

    Marci’s tone was a little sheepish. “I wish I could explain more eloquently, but I’m really just the messenger here. In essence, my company makes and discovers new medicines, and our research needs a pure, refined component derived from this seaweed. It’s very difficult to purify.” I scrolled through the details on-screen, nodding to indicate I was listening. He continued. “Several of our team members read your articles and essays on extraction techniques of chemical constituents, and they were impressed. They are hoping you will be willing to sell your services.”

    He paused, his explanation finished. The room was quiet for a minute as I finished skimming the information on the device before switching it off and returning my gaze to those odd red-purple eyes, which were now fixed on me with calculating patience. I got the sudden impression that, despite his sheepish nuance, this guy was smart and knew exactly what he was doing.

    I grunted softly. “Well, I can appreciate your proposition.” I shifted my weight onto one leg, gathering my thoughts. This was an exciting proposal. The thought of taking a break from the more interpersonal duties of a surgeon, to instead engross myself in chemistry work greatly appealed to me. If it was worth my time.

    “About how much are they hoping to buy my services for?” I drawled, flicking a bit of lint from my black gloves. Marci dug into a pocket, pulling out a business card and offered it to me.

    “That much.”

    I was confused, until I flipped the card over and saw the dollar amount scrawled on the back in pen. A strange sound came from my throat.

    Oh. THAT much.

    I cleared my throat, hoping he hadn’t caught onto my reaction. That hope popped like a bubble when I saw his satisfied smile.

    “We will be supplying you with both the ingredients and a number of tools you can use for the extraction process. I have said tools with me now.” He patted the briefcase. “If you can provide us with a sample pure enough to use, we will continue utilizing your services, and possibly include a raise. How long do you think you will need to complete the refinement process? One week? Two?”

    I didn’t reply at first, instead crossing over to scan the contents of the briefcase. Jars, beakers, labeled containers filled with powdered and liquid components. All I would need were some measurement tools, an isomantle, test tubes, a distillation bulb, maybe a graham condenser…

    I turned back to meet his intent gaze and answered. “Four days.”

    He laughed at me.

    He actually laughed at me. I bristled as he tried to cover his mouth and stifle the sound, but it was too late for that.

    “Aaahahaha… You misunderstand. I meant how long will it take for you to extract and refine the components into a usable compound?”

    “…Four days.”

    He didn’t laugh this time. We studied each other for a few moments before he spoke again, his tone more mild. “Ah, alright, well then… I will return here in four days and present your payment upon delivery of the refined sample. Does that sound acceptable to you?”

    “It does.” I snapped the briefcase closed, picking it up. I could barely restrain myself from dashing off with it and getting started, like a giddy chef with a brand new kitchen to test out.

    Marci drew in a breath, seeming to take a few moments to get over the surprise of how smoothly the whole process had gone. It looked as though he were expecting more of a fight.

    “I will see you in four days, then. Believe me when I say it was a pleasure doing business with you, Doctor Fíbra.” He offered his hand. This time, I took it without hesitation.

    “Same to you, Marci.”

    I shook his hand, and the deal was sealed.
-------
Here you go, some Fibra and Marci history from back in the day, approximately half a year before Fibra became part of Tex's crew. More to come later, hopefully.
Big thanks to ~Rhealm For retyping this story when I lost the original file. <|D gldghfghdfhg.
Fibra and Marci (c)

Description

READ THE STORY BELOW FIRST for these illustrations to make sense : )

   “Dr. Fíbra to conference room A4, please.”

    My head swiveled to glare at the loud speaker hanging near the cafeteria’s ceiling. I had JUST started my lunch break, dammit. Not that I had been looking forward to more than a cup of coffee and a Chemistry Monthly magazine, but still. I was tempted to act as if I hadn’t heard the summons… but that would be a bad idea. The hospital board members made it crystal clear that if you were summoned via announcement, you had damn well better obey.

    Unless someone was dying on an operating table in front of you, but that was about the only excuse.

    I sighed, putting down the mug I had just drawn from a shelf in the warm, quiet hospital cafeteria, and turned to start the trek to the wing of the enormous building that housed the conference rooms. It was a peaceable enough journey. I had been working in this new building for nearly two years; I knew my way around.

    Despite my experience with the place, no one I passed offered a greeting, or even acknowledged my existence. I had a reputation for being antisocial, and I preferred it that way. It meant that I was less distracted from my work, instances like this summons aside. During the three-or-so-minute walk to conference room A4, I couldn’t fathom what I was being called for.

    I waited for the sleek white door to slide open before stepping inside. In the room, which could easily fit twelve, there was just one Irken leaning against the table in the center. Male, close to six feet tall and looking quite snappy in a dark grey suit and red tie. He was holding a briefcase. The first thing I noticed after his general appearance was his eyes—instead of being a typical solid red, they had shades of purple. Interesting.

    But not more interesting than that cup of coffee I had been planning to enjoy.

    The Irken spotted me immediately and pushed off from the table with a polite smile.

    “Dr. Fíbra, I presume?” He offered his hand. I responded with a suspicious look before giving it a limp shake, not masking my displeasure at being here.

    “You presume correctly. Can I help you with something?” I grunted.

    The male arched a brow, probably taking note of the fact that I didn’t ask for his name in return, as was the correct social behavior.

    I didn’t care.

    He spoke again, keeping his tone mild. “I do hope so, yes. My name is Marci. I’m here on a business matter, Doctor, which involves you quite specifically.”

    Oh fuck. This guy was a lawyer. Guess someone was suing my ass.

    “My organization was hoping to utilize your skills in chemistry.”

    Ah. So much for that. “My chemistry skills?” I echoed. “What for?”

    “Well…” Marci turned to his briefcase on the table, unlocking it and flicking the lid open. “We’re hoping you would be able to refine certain chemical properties from an ingredient we have recently been collecting; a type of seaweed, as a matter of fact.”

    He held a digital holo-screen toward me. When I accepted it, the device beeped and the screen flickered to life, displaying numbers, formulas, notes and instructions.

    Marci’s tone was a little sheepish. “I wish I could explain more eloquently, but I’m really just the messenger here. In essence, my company makes and discovers new medicines, and our research needs a pure, refined component derived from this seaweed. It’s very difficult to purify.” I scrolled through the details on-screen, nodding to indicate I was listening. He continued. “Several of our team members read your articles and essays on extraction techniques of chemical constituents, and they were impressed. They are hoping you will be willing to sell your services.”

    He paused, his explanation finished. The room was quiet for a minute as I finished skimming the information on the device before switching it off and returning my gaze to those odd red-purple eyes, which were now fixed on me with calculating patience. I got the sudden impression that, despite his sheepish nuance, this guy was smart and knew exactly what he was doing.

    I grunted softly. “Well, I can appreciate your proposition.” I shifted my weight onto one leg, gathering my thoughts. This was an exciting proposal. The thought of taking a break from the more interpersonal duties of a surgeon, to instead engross myself in chemistry work greatly appealed to me. If it was worth my time.

    “About how much are they hoping to buy my services for?” I drawled, flicking a bit of lint from my black gloves. Marci dug into a pocket, pulling out a business card and offered it to me.

    “That much.”

    I was confused, until I flipped the card over and saw the dollar amount scrawled on the back in pen. A strange sound came from my throat.

    Oh. THAT much.

    I cleared my throat, hoping he hadn’t caught onto my reaction. That hope popped like a bubble when I saw his satisfied smile.

    “We will be supplying you with both the ingredients and a number of tools you can use for the extraction process. I have said tools with me now.” He patted the briefcase. “If you can provide us with a sample pure enough to use, we will continue utilizing your services, and possibly include a raise. How long do you think you will need to complete the refinement process? One week? Two?”

    I didn’t reply at first, instead crossing over to scan the contents of the briefcase. Jars, beakers, labeled containers filled with powdered and liquid components. All I would need were some measurement tools, an isomantle, test tubes, a distillation bulb, maybe a graham condenser…

    I turned back to meet his intent gaze and answered. “Four days.”

    He laughed at me.

    He actually laughed at me. I bristled as he tried to cover his mouth and stifle the sound, but it was too late for that.

    “Aaahahaha… You misunderstand. I meant how long will it take for you to extract and refine the components into a usable compound?”

    “…Four days.”

    He didn’t laugh this time. We studied each other for a few moments before he spoke again, his tone more mild. “Ah, alright, well then… I will return here in four days and present your payment upon delivery of the refined sample. Does that sound acceptable to you?”

    “It does.” I snapped the briefcase closed, picking it up. I could barely restrain myself from dashing off with it and getting started, like a giddy chef with a brand new kitchen to test out.

    Marci drew in a breath, seeming to take a few moments to get over the surprise of how smoothly the whole process had gone. It looked as though he were expecting more of a fight.

    “I will see you in four days, then. Believe me when I say it was a pleasure doing business with you, Doctor Fíbra.” He offered his hand. This time, I took it without hesitation.

    “Same to you, Marci.”

    I shook his hand, and the deal was sealed.
-------
Here you go, some Fibra and Marci history from back in the day, approximately half a year before Fibra became part of Tex's crew. More to come later, hopefully.
Big thanks to ~Rhealm For retyping this story when I lost the original file. <|D gldghfghdfhg.
Fibra and Marci (c)