He entered the room to find Rosetta sitting and staring out the window. "New assignment got you down, space-vixen?" he joked. She nodded towards the table, with the tell-tale silver envelope sitting on it. He quickly read its contents and looked up at her nervously, "You aren't going to do it, are you?" he asked.
"My first commission." she answered glumly
"You don't have a choice?" he offered
"Oh, I have a choice. It's either that, or take a trip back to 1957 and talk Paul McCartney into taking me to this really gear place called St Peter's Church to hear this little band called the Quarrymen..." she looked at him nervously
"Well, I suppose it might be different if you actually cared about these people....But you don't, do you?"
"I don't care about anyone." she answered coldly
"Not even me." he stated plainly
Rosetta stared at him a second, then returned her gaze to the snow falling lightly outside the window. "Not even you."

Her skin glowed in the light of the full moon. Not wanting to startle her prey prematurely, she ducked into the nocturnal shade of the lone tree at the side of the road. She hadn't long to wait before the drunken man came stumbling up the road, cursing and sobbing under his breath. He called out to Satan himself, but it was only her voice that answered him. "He ain't gonna help you, friend." she drawled. The man's dark skin went ashy as she stepped out into the moonlight. "Hey now," she continued "You got a drink for a fellow traveler?"

The man, under the spell of the moon, or whiskey, or perhaps stunned by the sight of a white woman out in these parts all on her lonesome, staggered over and handed her the bottle. Rosetta took a long drink and handed it back. Coughing slightly, she said "A man got to be mighty low to come out here on a night like this."
"Woman," the man answered "You don't know how low a man can get." He took a drink for himself, and after swallowing, decided he should sit before he fell. He sat leaning against the tree and told her, in between their visits to the bottle, how he had lost his wife and baby in childbirth. He had come out here for forgiveness, redemption, damnation, whatever God or the Devil saw fit to grant him.

Rosetta listened calmly, the liquor warming her to her core, and when the man finished talking, she sighed and spoke: "Low. I'll tell you what's low. Low is leaving your home day after day, only to scoot all over killing people for something you can't put a finger on. Would be different if it were for money, but it's not."
The man nodded appreciatively, not having the faintest idea what she was talking about. "Damn straight." he coughed.
Rosetta, drunk as can be, echoed his sentiments, then proceeded to tell him everything about her work and the Ministry. The man looked at her in astonishment and suddenly broke into laughter. "You don't believe me!" she yelled "Well.....I'll show you" She stumbled to her feet, clutching the tree for support, and fighting off a wave of giggles of her own. She took the pendant from around her neck, tapped the stone a few times, hiccuped, and said "Hey fellas, change of plans. Guillotine me." In a blue flash of light, her modest dress was replaced with an enormous hooped skirt, and atop her head was a ridiculous powdered wig.

The man looked at her and his jaw dropped. She saucily answered, "Like that do ya? Well, get a load of this..." She tapped the pendant again and giggled: "Okay guys, now....ummm.... Space-vixen!" and in a similar flash of light, her frills and powder were replaced with a very functional, albeit skin-hugging, silver suit, to which the man not only dropped his jaw, but he dropped his bottle too.
At once, the giggles returned, and the man exclaimed: "Woman, you look like an angel, but you must done be from the devvil hisself."
Rosetta replied, sitting beside him once again, "You know, you might just be right."

The two sat for a moment more, staring at the starry sky, before the man asked her: "Well then, what you here for?"
"To kill you." she replied honestly. "Hang you from this tree so some sap can write a song about you killing yourself after your wife and baby died."
"You gonna do it?"
"I don't think so." she answered. That sat for a moment longer before she turned to him and said: "Did you ever think about playing the guitar?" The man laughed openly and told her he didn't have a musical bone in his body. "Well, there's this guy, Ike. He's a retired agent, a great teacher. I'll bet he could help you learn. Tell you what," she said teasingly, "You learn to play the guitar, and I just might let you live."

That night, Robert Johnson walked away from the crossroads, not sure exactly what had happened other than the fact that he had an empty whiskey bottle in his hand and a piece of silver paper with Ike Zimmerman's name on it in his pocket.

Rosetta went home, delightfully drunk. When she stepped off of the transport platform, the guards were waiting. They hurried her straight to the Commander's office.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" he howled at her. "How many of the Ministry's rules you have broken?"
"Oh, what's the worst that can happen?" she asked mockingly, yet knowing full well that not killing that man was the best thing she could have done.

"What could happen?" the Commander yelled. "I'll show you just what could happen..." he grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards the screen: The sum total of the Ministry of Instigation's effects. "Your boy learned to play, all right. Then spent the remainder of his very short life divided between playing music and spouting about 'the devil' showing him the way."
"That's wrong." said Rosetta, pulling back from him. "He was going to have a good life..."
"A good life? Look here.....not eight years later and a bartender is sick to death of hearing him complain about silver devil women and poisons him. Not only poisons him, but the man then spends three days in agony, crawling along the floor and snapping like a dog, all the while raving about devils and angels and traveling through time....Thankfully, with Ike in such close proximity, we were able to obtain the body...."

With that, Rosetta felt the alcohol she had consumed threaten to make a reappearance, and she ran from the Commander's office. The guards looked to the Commander, but he waved them off. "Let her go....." He then turned back to the SumScreen and smiled to himself as he cued up "HotTamales" and it drifted through the speakers. "....Boys...there's a sucker born every minute."