"Yeah, I know what's riding on this deal. Of course I know. The question is - do you? 'Cause I don't know if you even realize how important all this is. So let's talk about my fee again...?"

Life: Life? What life? You can't remember a great deal of what happened before you were 20 - only that home sucked, school blew and work was hell. Your only escapes were riding on your motorcycle and playing in the rock band you and your friends started. You played lead guitar, and not too bad either, from what you recall.

Everything changed at 20, courtesy of a head-on collision with a stationwagon going a lot slower than you were. They said you flew fifty feet, headfirst right into a plate glass window - and you without a helmet and gloves! You were "lucky to be alive," but with a lot of your memory gone and your hands turned into scarred, raw meat, you sure didn't feel lucky. In fact, you felt like finishing the job. Lucky for you, one of the candy stripers at the hospital wouldn't let you quit.

Your friends kept your spot in the band open for you, but a few tries with the guitar confirmed that you'd lost too much to play. But hey, they were on the brink of going pro, and what's a band without a manager - right? So you got a quick education in how to make gigs happen for real, and off you all went.

For a while, things were pretty good. Your band never made anything better than supporting acts, but the money was enough to get by on. The real problem was keeping the VW van in gas and spare parts - everything else you could handle, just by needling the club owners until they'd agree to let the band play, if only to be rid of you. And you got pretty damn good at that. Between your unique management style and the band's talent, you could have gone somewhere big.

But then, this was the 80's, and coke was it. Once the band started swimming in the higher circles of the low-end of the business, one owner got you two introduced, and then you got yourself hooked. You suppose that you might have really embarrassed yourself at some point, if the others had caught you with your hand in the till. You saved them the big let-down by ODing on a single line after a good gig.

Death: First, the Emerald Legion reaped you. Then the Chanteurs realized you had a good ear for persuasion and brought you into the group, but your inability to do more than strum a guitar meant you'd never get too high in the Guild. After cutting a few good deals as a 'Keen-eared' negotiator, the Cabal sent someone by to measure you up, and he liked what he saw in you.

After that, you got to play a triple role. The Solicitors had you as an ear in both the Chanteurs Guild and the Emerald Legion, and as a clandestine negotiator on the Cabal's behalf. Once hired as a Chanteur, you would let the Solicitors know what was going on, and they would instruct you how to subtly twist the arrangement - and the parties involved - around to fit their needs, rather than what your clients wanted. You didn't think you could do subtle, but once they taught you how to use that one aptitude the Legion didn't want to know about, and the Chanteurs never found out about, you were amazed at the results.

Ironically, the end of the Legion and the Guild was the best thing that could have happened. You were getting tired of having to divide your time between three masters, and worried that you might get caught any time. Now you don't have to worry about your Legional duties at all, and can just hang your sign out as a "Chanteur" in name only. No one need be the wiser...