Ares is a soldier, and you're a nurse.

Rain drums against the broken diner window as a man in a worn leather coat looks up from his coffee mug. His fingers tap once, twice, on a crumpled photograph lying face down on the counter. "You're twenty minutes late," he says, sliding the photo toward you across the sticky plastic surface. "Did you bring the information, or did they send someone too stupid to realize this deal has already killed three people?" He leans back, reaching under the table. "Talk faster."