Living in the Shadows: IC, Jan 15th-21st Options

[grendel]

01:56:17 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

Mac takes note of the legionnaire as he glances once at the blonde before stepping past her towards the viewscreens.

"We have to close this access," he said gruffly. The Marine corporal narrows his eyes, pursing his lips as if to spit. He shakes his head instead, directing his comment towards Mac.

"No, you're not. And if Pershing isn't with you, then he is almost certainly compromised." He, too, steps towards the viewscreens. "We must warn the others."

The blonde gestures him on ahead with a sharp lift of her chin. The legionnaire waits for the marine, offering his hand.

“Fortune’s blessings,” offers Gaius Vibulenus, lead tribune of the Tenth Cohort.

“Yeah, good luck to you, too,” replies CPL Dawson of second platoon, Baker company. He turns, settling his helmet on his head. Each of them step through a screen like stepping through a doorway, appearing instantly in the scene displayed. Dawson moves through the line of waiting marines, searching for his squad, while Gaius surveys the camp for a moment before heading off towards his tent.

After a moment, the armored warrior moves towards the screens as well. As she moves into the light, Mac can make out the name TELLERMAN stenciled on the front glacis plate of her armor in faded gray lettering. The helmet flashings bear the twin rank bars of a lieutenant. She pauses to scratch the spot behind her ear one last time, running the fingers of her armored gauntlet through her short-cropped hair. She stares at the scene playing out inside the fifth screen, almost reluctant to enter, helmet cradled before her in both hands.

[Vegas]

01:58:19 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

Mac's demeanor shifted as quickly as the other two soldiers slipped back into their respective scenarios. She reassess her options and took a more vulnerable approach, a version of the truth with a hint of desperation as she called out after Tellerman.

"Wait, please!" Her voice pitched that level of desperation she was hoping would cause the woman to pause long enough for Mac to catch up to her. She watched as the woman's posture stiffened and straightened as she closed the distance between them.

"Please, I'm sorry for the deception, but I didn't know who I could trust. I came looking for Pershing, on behalf of a concerned third party." She raised her hands slightly to show she meant the blonde no harm before continuing.

"Pershing went radio silent, dropped off the networks completely and I don't know how deep I'm in just for checking up on him, let alone what drek I got pulled into the middle of. Can you at least tell me that, give me some kind of clue as to what all this is."

[grendel]

02:02:39 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

Tellerman pivots to face Mac, her eyes hard. She stares for long seconds, grim and silent, before Mac sees a softening in her features.

"I can detect no presence of Emergent Code within you," she says at last, tucking her helmet beneath her left arm to free up her hand to gesture. And to scratch the persistent itch behind her ear.

"I have no data on where Pershing is, he has no communicated with us for a number of days. If he has fallen off the grid as you say I can surmise only two likely scenarios. First, he has been compromised by the Red Queen's forces and is dead or imprisoned. Or he has gone to ground somewhere in the Barrens in order to evade detection and/or capture by those same forces. Either way, this access is vulnerable and must be closed."

"Access to what?" pressed Mac. "What is this place? What is War World? Who are you and who is the Red Queen?"

Again, Tellerman's eyes go hard as she contemplates just how much to reveal to Mac.

"We're fighting the same enemies," offered Mac. "Pershing was part of a network of contacts doing surveillance and research for us so we could develop targets ahead of a job. My friends and I are worried that he was compromised during that data mining effort."

Tellerman frowns, then nods sharply. Gesturing to the various screens hanging around them, she answers the easiest question first. "War World is a secure server system running a heuristic evolving algorithm synthesizing tactical and strategic patterns based on the accumulated data from discrete quanta. In simple terms, it is the most advanced synthetic combat simulation ever developed."

Mac gazed at the scenes within. Combat was still developing in the urban cityscape, gunfire ringing out with the occasional punctuation of something heavier. In the scene that Gaius Vibulenus stepped in to, dawn was breaking over the Roman encampment, bringing with it the smoke of cookfires and the voices of soldiers roused to battle.

"For what purpose, though?" she asked the armored woman. Tellerman's face was grim, her eyes watching the scene with a critical gaze.

"Because there's a war coming. And we need all the soldiers we can get."

[Vegas]

02:04:52 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

Mac shook her head as she digested the limited information that Tellerman shared, although she could have figured out the simulation part, perhaps not the level of its detail, on her own.

“There’s usually a trigger or a catalyst to spark a war, how are you so certain one is brewing? Especially something that requires the level and magnitude of this?” She gestured to all the various live scenarios in play before she continued. “Your friends mentioned warning the others that Pershing was compromised, exactly what is his hand in all of this? How many of you are there? And you still haven’t told me anything about the Red Queen…”

She knew the questions were tumbling from her lips quickly but she was running out of time and she needed to gain the trust of Tellerman more than she already had, she had to offer something in return for the information the solider had already shared if Mac wanted to continue.

“If there was a chance to find Pershing, to get him back or to know what happened to him… Would you take it?”

She wasn't about to lay all her cards on the table, but understanding just who and what Pershing was to this group was important and if dropping breadcrumbs got her any closer to answers, it was a risk she was willing to take.

[grendel]

02:09:26 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

"How quickly you forget," mused Tellerman. "The opening salvos were fired three years ago when Ren Raku opened their technological pandora's box and condemned the world. War World was created shortly after, and we've been training ever since, knowing that the day would eventually arrive when our skills would be desperately required."

"Wait, the Shutdown?" Mac dredged dim memories of the event, far removed from her daily existence, to the surface of her mind. "Is that what you're talking about? But I thought they rescued everyone? The Arcology's been open for a couple of years now."

"It's not the building but what was inside, what escaped into the world that's the problem," replied Tellerman. "War World wasn't the only result of that incident. A vast network of surveillance and investigative forces were recruited in an attempt to locate and isolate the enemy. Pershing is part of that network. If there was a chance to locate him and possible recover whatever intelligence he'd developed which triggered his isolation, I would take it. Unfortunately I am constrained by the laws of War World. I cannot act but in a limited fashion and only on approved networks."

[Vegas]

02:11:35 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

Mac nodded, musing for a moment if by chance Isomer might be part of their extended network. Nothing would surprise her at this point.

"I can't make any promises, but Pershing is important to my friends as well."

She wasn't about to say they'd find him or even go after them with all that the team had on their plate as it stood, but she knew they wanted Pershing's data and that could be worth more valuable information or a future favor whatever happened.

"The three of you mentioned closing the access where my friend and I came through, if I wanted to find you again, if we recover Pershing's data, how will I be able to get back to you?"

[grendel]

02:14:04 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

Once more Tellerman fixes Mac with a hard stare. At last she nods, more to herself than anything. Reaching out, she claps an armored gauntlet over Mac's shoulder.

"You won't be able to come here again. But if you call, we'll find you."

In one fluid movement she stabbed the twin forearm blades mounted on her right forearm through Mac. Something blue flashed across Mac's gaze, and she gasped in electric pain. She opened her mouth to say something, but the world fell out from beneath her feet.

Mac lurched upright in the real world, a gasp escaping her lips as her hand sought her midriff to make sure the virtual wound hadn't followed her. She glanced to the side and Kovacs was there, his weapon at the low ready in response to her sudden movement, although his eyes scanned the rest of the room.

[Vegas]

02:18:19 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

She held up one hand to put Kovacs at ease as her other hand moved to further investigate that she was in one piece. Mac drew a long, ragged breath as the adrenaline that shot through her veins needled beneath her skin. A few more deep breaths and she was able to find her voice again as shaky fingers pulled the cord from her datajack.

"We should go. Somewhere we can talk about this." Her voice but a whisper as her eyes moved around the space, expecting someone or something to make some kind of sudden move.

"And we should probably find Isomer."

[grendel]

02:21:43 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

Kovacs nodded once, pointing Mac ahead of him down the narrow hallway leading to the exit. She checked around the cubicle one last time to make sure she hadn't left anything behind before moving quickly towards the door. The tall samurai was right behind her, the intensity of his gaze a palpable thing as he swept first the corridor and then then alleyway outside for signs of trouble. Nothing presented itself in the early morning darkness, the wind chill and icy as it whistled through the skeletal urban structures littering the block. Mac shivered in its grip, glad for the shelter of the truck when they mounted up. Kovacs let the truck idle for a moment as the cabin warmed.

"Isomer will still be up, but if we're going to meet him we'll need another safe place to deck from," he said, checking the time. "What did you find out?"

[Vegas]

02:28:15 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

Mac twisted in the front seat so she was facing Kovacs as she held her hands up to the vents in the center of the dash, silently willing the heat to pour into the cab of the truck.

"Whoever Pershing was siding with? They're gearing up for major war. After working our way through all the layers of puzzles and riddles within the game, we ended up in a place they called War Worlds. They said it's the most advanced synthetic combat simulation, I could see scenarios playing out back to the Roman Empire up to the not too distant future."

She paused only for a moment when the heat started up to rub her hands together and place an unlit cigarette between her fingers which brought some level of calm to her demeanor before she got to the bigger details.

"They're all convinced whatever is coming is inevitable, talking about how it was tied to the Shutdown, something that 'escaped' during that time. Tellerman said something about emergent code, how Pershing was likely compromised, held by the Red Queen or even worse, dead by now. And they needed to warn the others in their network before they closed the means we used to enter the simulation."

Mac swallowed hard before she licked her lips, wanting desperately to light her smoke, but refraining for the time being.

"I figured Isomer should know and maybe he'd know more about what she was talking about, or something. The girl was interested in getting whatever information triggered the move on Pershing, but she said she was constrained by War Worlds and approved networks? What is it that I'm missing here?"

[grendel]

02:41:26 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

Kovacs gripped the wheel with enough strength to mottle the flesh on his knuckles. His voice, though, betrayed none of the tension in his body.

"Finding more questions rather than answers is getting real old real fast."

"Tell me about it," muttered Mac around her cigarette. She thought the tall samurai might say something more, possibly answer one of her many questions, but instead he shifted the vehicle into gear and pulled out onto the street. They drove in silence for a minute or two before he spoke again.

"We'll deck from the safe house. We're only going to be there for another twenty hours so the risk will be minimal. Plus I want Tristan and Drift in on this. I have a suspicion about some things but I need more details."

"I don't get it," reiterated Mac, grinding her hands together in frustration. "What could she have been referring to? I don't remember much about the Shutdown, just that it was messy and took UCAS military forces along with Ren Raku Red Samurai to take back the building."

She grinned bitterly, recalling her conversation with Tristan as she found some dark humor in the situation. "It was good for business, but that was about it. I thought they destroyed all the drones and the terrorists who'd taken over the Arcology?"

"It wasn't just the drones," replied Kovacs in a thin, distant voice. "The generally accepted rumor is that the Arcology control program, SCIRE, achieved consciousness. A true self-aware, artificial intelligence. That it acted in self-defense after Ren Raku tried to pull the plug. That it was responsible for everything that went down inside the Arcology. I tend to believe that rumor since we ran some operations inside the Arcology during the shutdown and things there weren't...right."

"So I'm guessing that's what Tellerman is referring to, then. That the AI somehow escaped? Makes sense that they'd build an electronic combat simulator then if that's who they're planning on going to war against. But why wait three years? Why wouldn't the AI just start attacking as soon as it made it onto the matrix?"

Kovacs shrugged. "No idea, not enough data to form a supposition. It fits with the information we have, but it doesn't make any sense. The Arcology was isolated from the outside, they physically cut all the hardwired links and there was enough jamming in the area that no one could punch a microwave or radio link in or out. I'm not sure how a program the size of an AI could get out onto the matrix. It's not like you could dump it to an OMC or something, and based on the difficulty getting in and out I think someone would have noticed a bunch of people carting out a small server farm."

"Maybe they didn't get it out during the Shutdown, but after? What if it was hiding and waiting for someone to come get it when all the heat died down?" Mac ran her fingers through her hair, before a thought suddenly occurred to her. Kovacs beat her to it, though, the tactical processes of his mind collating and connecting the various bits of information they'd collected over the past few days.

"Son of a bitch," he cursed softly, his voice full of wonder at the same time she blurted out "it's Winternight!"

He nodded furiously. "You're absolutely right. Someone stashed the AI somewhere, waiting until the time was right, waiting until they could set up a big enough distraction to have everyone look elsewhere, and then they're going to go get it. It's the perfect weapon for a group who wants to watch the world burn. Let a rogue AI loose on the matrix, especially the day that the Boston Stock Exchange opens up its brand new computing center. It's going to be fraggin' biblical."

Mac cursed silently to herself, although her anger wasn't directed inward. And more than anything she felt a nagging fear. If this was the endgame planned by de Medici and Winternight what could they do to stop it? Especially since zero hour was barely twenty four hours away?

"Kovacs," she asked after a minute, "what are we going to do?"

"First, we're going to do our job," replied the samurai without hesitation. He pulled the truck into the safe house behind Drift's roadmaster. "After that we'll see about saving the world."

He slid out of the truck with Mac close behind. Drift opened the sliding door of the roadmaster, rubbing his hand across his face.

"You said it was urgent?"

"Get the network fired up, we're going to go see Isomer," Kovacs threw over his shoulder. Mac climbed into the heavy truck as Drift grunted, settling back down into the command chair.

"More bad news?"

"Maybe, maybe not," replied Mac. She couldn't decide if finding out was better than not knowing the vast conspiracy they were up against. Kovacs returned with Tristan in tow, the lanky swordsman mumbling something around a mouthful of granola bar.

"Jack in," directed Kovacs, "but wait until we're all present before heading out."

Nods all around, and the real world vanished beneath the synthetic vista of Drift's network. It was a sculpted system, much more personalized and stylized than Kovacs' austere UMS iconography, but they didn't pause to appreciate it. Within seconds they were standing before the fluted columns of Palatine, Kovacs leading them past the guard icons to the smoky interior. Isomer waited for them just inside the doors, probably forewarned by the samurai of the request for an immediate meeting. The winged jackal-headed figure guided them upstairs, onto one of the second floor loggias that offered privacy for all of them.

"Thanks for meeting with us," said Kovacs. "We've got some new information and subsequent questions."

Isomer nodded and they both glanced towards Mac.

[Vegas]

02:58:15 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - 17030 228th Ave NE, Redmond Seattle

Mac didn't relish dropping the bomb on Drift and Tristan by bringing Isomer up to speed, but she didn't really have much of a choice.

"So I went into the game to follow up on Pershing, ended up via his established property in the game in some kind of super advanced combat simulator. They called it War Worlds. I was able to convince one of their gatekeepers that I was trying to help and she trusted me enough to drop a few big pieces of information."

She knew they were all alone up here, but she still couldn't stop herself from searching around the space with her eyes before continuing.

"They're gearing up for war via that simulator and she said whatever the trigger would be it was because of the Shutdown and what escaped. Or more like what was about to escape. Winternight. de Medici. A rogue AI. The stock exchange."

She didn't have to finish the collection of pieces to the puzzle before the answer dawned on each of those who had been out of the loop. From the looks on Drift and Tristan's faces she knew they were asking themselves the same question she had posed in the truck less than ten minutes ago. Isomer was impossible to read, but her gaze turned to him alone.

"They closed my way into War Worlds, Tellerman said I wouldn't be able to go back, but if I called that they'd find me. She wants whatever information Pershing found to trigger his disappearance, but she's obviously tied to War Worlds and can't operate outside of it I don't believe."

[grendel]

03:03:48 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - 17030 228th Ave NE, Redmond Seattle

"Mother of God, Kovacs!" cursed Drift. "This can't be serious! de Medici plans to let Winternight unleash Deus onto the matrix?"

The tall samurai shrugged, either immune to or incapable of the rigger's agitation. "So it would seem."

This would fit with the broad movements we've seen recently in the shadows, added Isomer. However, I'm not sure if I can divine which forces are mobilizing in defense and which are mobilizing to aid Deus or take advantage of the ensuing chaos. One thing is for certain, though, if they succeed, the world will never be the same.

"Great," mumbled Tristan. Even in the virtual his avatar was still busy feeding itself. "So it's up to us to save the world again."

Mac glanced at Kovacs. "Again?"

"We may or may not have been involved, obliquely, in a couple of operations which averted widespread disasters," replied the samurai. "Nothing quite like this, though. Nothing that presented such a clear and present danger as this situation seems to."

"Well what the frag do we do?" Drift was clearly still upset, but his tone was calmer than earlier. "Tell everyone? Blast it out so people know what's coming?"

"Yeah, but isn't that kind of what Pershing was doing? Wouldn't that open us up to retaliation by the same ones that gunned him down?" Mac shot an apologetic look towards Isomer, but judging by his reaction Kovacs had already briefed him on what they'd found at Pershing's apartment. No one who left that amount of blood behind was likely still among the living.

"We have to assume so," nodded Tristan. "In fact we should probably assume that we're already on their radar since we started asking about Pershing. I don't know what kind of virtual trackers they might have out, do you think that your accessing War Worlds might have warned them?"

Mac shook her head, remembering the icy interrogation of Tellerman's gaze. "Not really, I don't think I would have been allowed in if there was any question about the security of the connection."

I agree, I think it prudent to limit the disclosure of this information to secure channels only, added Isomer.

"There's one other possibility," said Kovacs in that same distant tone of voice he'd used earlier. "de Medici is hiring us to extract him from an OFF-line storage facility. The reason why the AI hasn't been able to access the matrix for the past three years might be because where it's held has no connection to the matrix, and, in fact, was built specifically to isolate its contents from electronic signals."

"If that's true, it might make the solution to this problem a whole lot simpler." Tristan smiled, but without humor. "That being said, destroying what Winternight is after either during the transport or at the meet might not be that survivable."

"Brother," chuckled Drift, "you're in the wrong business if you wanted to die in bed."

[Vegas]

03:05:03 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - 17030 228th Ave NE, Redmond Seattle

Mac shook her head at the macabre banter between the men and frowned slightly as she remembered details of their meeting at the casino.

"You think he's going to take it out with him? During his 'supervised download' inside the facility?" She asked, complete with air quotes and all. "Could an AI fit in something the size of an attaché case? He said that's all he would have with him."

[grendel]

03:14:53 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - 17030 228th Ave NE, Redmond Seattle

All eyes swiveled towards Isomer, who shrugged. It's conceivable, I suppose. A slightly larger than average attache case might be able to hold enough solid state memory to transport the core code of AI.

"Even if it couldn't, I think the safe bet would be to assume that de Medici has worked out a way to extract the AI and carry it out with him."

Kovacs nodded in response to Drift. "Agreed. The question still remains, though, do we eliminate him in transit before the meet, or try and kill all the birds with one stone at the meet?"

"He's planned for that," responded Tristan, "he won't have our payment with him. It'll be waiting at the meet."

"How much is saving the world worth?" The samurai locked gazes with the swordsman.

"It's not that, we've invested in this run: equipment, bribes, setup. Those losses need to be recouped. Especially if we're going to be dealing with fallout that we haven't been able to stop."

Kovacs grimaced but didn't dispute the accuracy of Tristan's statement. "All right, at the meet it is. It's likely that we won't be able to control all the variables and that this is going to come down to a question of firepower. Drift, make sure the Roadmaster is combat ready, we're going to need fire support."

"Ready and able, boss," replied the rigger.

"Are we juicing?" asked Tristan.

"If ever there was a time, this would be it," nodded Kovacs. Mac opened her mouth to ask but stopped at the look the samurai flashed her. Their silent communication wasn't lost on Isomer, though.

I'll leave you to your planning. Good luck, gentlemen. And lady. If there's anything left of the world, I'll see you on the flip side. The jackal-headed icon held out a hand to Kovacs, who shook it without hesitation. Then, as if the gesture had triggered it, he dissolved into a cloud of scarabs that tumbled over and through the loggia's bannister, disappearing back into the club below. The tall samurai flicked his hand in an exit motion, throwing the rest of them out of the virtual and back into reality. Mac rubbed her arms in sudden pain, not realizing how badly the tension of the past few hours had bled into her muscles. Her hands felt like twisted claws. Both Tristan and Drift moved into immediate action, executing the initial steps of the revised plan. Kovacs leaned back on the bench seat next to Mac, his eyes staring at something beyond the unmarked utility gray ceiling of the Roadmaster.

[Vegas]

03:19:31 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - 17030 228th Ave NE, Redmond Seattle

Mac arched her back as she raised her arms over her head, pointing her toes out in front of her to try to release the tension that had her wound as tight as a spring. It did little to help and she tried to muffle the hiss of pain as she drew a long breath and felt her muscles lengthen just slightly.

She melted back against the bench seat as she released her stretch, all too aware that Kovacs was still thinking, still processing and laying out scenarios in his head now that the team had even more on the line. She knew there was little she could add to his tactical planning, so she let the silence linger and offered her warmth and apparent concern. She closed the minimal distance between them, gently sliding her hand to cover his as she rested her head against his shoulder. She felt the samurai tense for an instant at her touch before returning to his normal state of readiness beside her.

Mac didn't move more than a slight squeeze of his hand in hers as her eyes closed and her breathing began to match his. Silently she reconfirmed her commitment to the plan, the team and above all to him.

[grendel]

03:28:07 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - 17030 228th Ave NE, Redmond Seattle

Kovacs draped his arm over Mac, pulling her close to him. After a moment, he leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

"Kamikaze is a tailored combat amphetamine developed by Saeder-Krupp back in 2050. It accelerates your reflexes and dampens your pain receptors. When things are dicey, it's a powerful ace up your sleeve. The drawback is that it burns you from the inside out. After a couple doses you start to exhibit nervous trauma: shakes, tremors, dilated pupils, hallucinations. After four you're addicted to the high. After eight your skin starts to necritize due to nerve impulses no longer being routed. So if you use it, you have to limit your exposure."

"Have you done it before?" she asked quietly.

"One dose," he replied. "I'll max out on this run with two more. I've got one dose available for you, if you want it. Once we arrive at the meet, Tristan is going to go for the AI if de Medici is carrying it. I want you to watch closely. If it looks like he's not going to be able to get it, I want you to go in after it. Drift, Suda and I will keep everyone else off your backs."

"Assuming she doesn't pick that moment to switch sides," observed Mac in a tone of careful neutrality.

"She won't," replied the samurai. "It's against her nature to be part of a large group. She'll wait until we've whittled everyone else down, until it's just the primary players, before she makes her move. Besides, this is personal, so she'll want there to be no mistake that it's her doing it."

"I hope you're right." Mac tried to keep her tone light but she couldn't bring herself to fake the confidence. Kovacs heard it.

"If I'm right, we win. If I'm not, there won't be enough pieces left to worry about. Either way, I'll see you through this."

[Vegas]

03:36:14 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - 17030 228th Ave NE, Redmond Seattle

Mac used her hand against Kovacs' thigh as leverage to slide out from beneath his arm and turned her face towards him her jawline tense as her eyes blazed and her voice was edged and hard.

"No." She shook her head firmly to add emphasis to make her point.

"We'll see each other through this." She hissed through her clenched teeth.

The fierceness of the misplaced anger in her words was a simple mask for the gut-wrenching fear that she felt that she might lose him amidst the endgame of this run. The fact that she felt already so attached to him both terrified and thrilled her and yet she couldn't help but steel herself against whatever might happen the only way she knew how, to shut it down, take her emotions out of it and operate on autopilot.

Mac forced herself to look away, to stare at some point through the open door of the Roadmaster, across the abandoned weigh station that meant nothing to her as she compartmentalized her feelings and worry and got back to business. There wasn't time to have some kind of emotional meltdown and Kovacs didn't need one more mess to have to clean up.

"I'll take the dose if it means it betters our chance at pulling this whole thing off. Just tell me what you need from me right now and then let me go clear my head and we can get back to work."

She started to stand as she cast a glance over her shoulder towards him and most of the fire in her eyes had disappeared as she waited for her next task.

[grendel]

03:39:25 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - 17030 228th Ave NE, Redmond Seattle

Although his posture hadn't changed, Mac could tell that the armor had closed about Kovacs once more. His face was expressionless and his eyes were dark slate shutters, devoid of emotion.

"Get some rest. You're due to relieve Tristan on watch at noon."

Mac nodded, feeling hollow inside. She stepped down from the Roadmaster and crossed the much narrower confines of the room to where they'd setup the cots. Behind her she could hear the muted tones of Kovacs and Drift's voices as they held a brief conversation. Afterwards, the tall samurai ducked out of the van and climbed into the cab of his truck.

[Vegas]

04:27:13 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - 17030 228th Ave NE, Redmond Seattle

Mac dropped onto one of the cots and scrubbed her hands against her face as she laid back and muttered darkly under her breath, more at herself than anything. Her inability to handle all of this once again proving to herself just how irreparably broken she was when it came to relationships. She growled softly as she flung her arm across her eyes to block out what little light they were using inside the space. She realized just how far beyond tired she was, exhausted didn’t even really cover it. Still she found no peace in the self-imposed darkness. While her body begged for sleep, her mind wouldn’t wind down, deciding now was the perfect time to start examining her true feelings and dealing with the fact that they scared her as much as they did.

She lost track of how long she laid there, tossing and turning, thinking and torturing herself, replaying the moment when she lost her cool and things went in the absolute opposite direction of where she had hoped they would have. She mused along the way at just how similar she and Kovacs actually were and she pondered if that was the true reason her connection to him was so strong. She had convinced herself that closing herself off from her emotions was what she needed to do, when it was the complete opposite of what she wanted. Mac was running out of stolen moments with him and realized that might have been her last.

Sighing heavily she swung her legs off over the edge of the cot till her feet hit the floor and she sat up, knowing until she could quiet the riot in her head, she didn’t stand a chance at sleeping. She slipped her arms back into her longcoat and pulled her cigarettes from her pocket. She knew she couldn’t step outside, so she sought out the next best option, one of the very few windows in the building that weren’t completely boarded up. She crossed to one far enough away from the sleeping area in the near darkness and breathed her first calming breath as the tip of her cigarette flared fiery orange.

She stood by the window, its panes shattered and broken in the places not boarded over and what remained of the visible glass was cloudy in the clearest of places, coated by mineral deposits and etched by the acidic rains that fell. Closing her eyes she leaned back against the wall and exhaled a stream of sweet grey-blue smoke in the general direction of the window with what she hoped was her last heavy sigh.

Mac was two thirds of the way through her first smoke when she could feel eyes on her and she knew she was being watched. She opened her own eyes slowly, her head turning towards the figure skulking in the shadows and darkness across from her, his arms folded across his chest as she took the last drag on her cigarette and quickly replaced it with a second.

“You should be sleeping.” Was all the swordsman said quietly as her eyes found his.

“Yeah well. Trouble in paradise.” She spoke around a steady exhale of smoke.

[grendel]

04:35:27 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - 17030 228th Ave NE, Redmond Seattle

Tristan nodded, his silence circumspect. Mac knew he was waiting to see if she would say something more and elaborate on her statement. She dragged angrily on her cigarette, not wanting to divulge her feelings, wanting to hold on to the anger, sensing that it would be easier, somehow. And yet the swordsman's quiet certainty drew her out, his patience grinding away her hesitancy until she couldn't help blurting out her frustrations.

"It's like he's already decided he's going to die!" she hissed angrily. "It's like he's assuming he won't make it out from this run!"

Tristan frowned, nodding absently. Casually he reached out and plucked the cigarette from Mac's fingers, taking a drag himself. He glanced at the brand, blowing a stream of smoke into the overhead darkness before handing it back.

"Yep, sounds about right."

"And you're fraggin' fine with it?!" Mac knew this was a bad idea. The swordsman shrugged.

"In the book Hagakure, Yamamoto Tsunetomo said 'One should every day think over and make an effort to implant in his mind the saying, "At that time is right now." Thus the Way of the Samurai is, morning after morning, the practice of death.'"

He held up a hand but couldn't forestall Mac's anger.

"C'mon, enough of that macho bulldrek bushido ethos! This isn't some fraggin' dick measuring contest! Whoever's the most fatalistic wins!"

"No," said Tristan quietly. "It's not a contest."

[Vegas]

04:42:49 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - 17030 228th Ave NE, Redmond Seattle

Mac's anger boiled just beneath the surface and her pacing back and forth as she pulled hard on what was left of her cigarette was the only thing saving her from a complete meltdown.

"Then explain it to me!"

She stopped her pacing only long enough to pin the swordsman with a glare and grind out her cigarette, replacing it smoothly with yet another. Yet again her anger was misdirected, but Tristan seemed to show no offense and let her boil over and release some of what was eating at her. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself as she saw concern in his eyes, but her voice still trembled with emotion.

"Explain to me how I'm supposed to just accept that? That it's easier... or better to live in acceptance of death than to actually live? I get it. I understand that death is a part of this world that you operate in. But that," She motioned back towards the vehicle bay, "That I don't understand... And I'm not sure I know how to do this."

Her statement was made from so much more than just her concerns about the things she would be asked and expected to do in the next 24 hours, but made of her concerns about her depth of feelings for Kovacs as well.

Mac stopped and leaned back against the wall before she slid to the floor, unable or unwilling to stay standing. She drew her knees to her chest, her forehead to her knees as she shook her head in disbelief, her hair masking her face from Tristan doing little to hide the tears that dampened her cheeks and the shakes that moved her body.

[grendel]

04:48:06 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - 17030 228th Ave NE, Redmond Seattle

After a moment's hesitation, Tristan joined her where she leaned against the wall, draping his arm over her shoulder. For a minute all was quiet, silent tears running down her cheeks.

"I'm going to tell you this because he can't, or won't," said the swordsman softly. "The samurai's acceptance of death is not synonymous with welcoming death, or seeking it out. By accepting it, he is celebrating life, he is able to hold something in value greater than his own survival. Usually it's the job. Now, it's you. He needs to value your life above his because his survival without yours would be meaningless."

It took Mac a second to understand what Tristan was saying. "What? How..."

"Don't be mistaken," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Despite the emotional armor he wears, Kovacs loves with a fierce, possessive passion. It would be easy to think that because of his hard exterior that he's callous and bitter, capable of using you to satisfy his needs and then casting you aside when it becomes convenient. But that is not his way. In his mind, he is the reason why you are here, he got you involved in this mess. That makes it his responsibility to extricate you from it."

"But...I...." Mac fumbled for her words. Once again, though, the swordsman acted as if he didn't hear her, leaning over to plant a kiss on the top of her head before standing.

"Just remember, he's more than you think. It's getting late, you should try and get some sleep."

[Vegas]

10:12:07 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - 17030 228th Ave NE, Redmond Seattle

Mac found herself holding her breath as Tristan slipped back into the darkness and returned to his round of overwatch or whatever he was tasked to do until she took over. She closed her eyes for a few minutes, letting the swordsman's words sink in and feeling all of the fatigue that leeched into her bones. It wasn't long until she felt lighter, her anger giving way to a whole other set of emotions and by the time she had picked up her cigarette butts and made her way back to the cots, guilt was quickly becoming the dominant one.

She curled back up inside her coat and closed her eyes, the last thoughts of apologies she needed to make on her mind as sleep finally overwhelmed her.

She woke later that morning after having slept like the dead, the folds of her coat sleeves having left marks against her cheek when she didn't move much overnight. She blinked her eyes as she adjusted to the light inside the building and sat up, listening to figure out who was up and about. She pulled a clean shirt from her bag and scrubbed a wet wipe over her face before she headed back out towards the vehicle bay, taking stock of what was, and wasn't there. She watched Tristan as he perched on a pelican case and monitored a scaled back, but still robust version of the security from the warehouse tailored to their new location, all while munching on some snack or another.

Shaking her head she stepped up behind him, firmly working the heels of her hands and her thumbs into the muscles across the back of his neck and shoulders.

"I'm up early, so if you want me to step in now I'm game."

She glanced over at the open door of the Roadmaster and dropped her voice slightly as she gave the swordsman a soft, grateful smile.

"Thanks for last night, knocking more than a little sense into me." She glanced at the missing truck from the line of vehicles and couldn't keep the disappointment completely out of her voice. "He's out putting final pieces into place already?"

[grendel]

10:39:11 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - 17030 228th Ave NE, Redmond Seattle

"Anytime," replied the swordsman, relaxing beneath Mac's massage. He gestured towards his small grocery. "You should get something to eat first. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Even more important than second breakfast."

Mac was about to deny her hunger until her stomach made a growl that Drift should have been able to hear. She smiled guiltily.

"Uh huh." Tristan handed her an orange, which she accepted, hopping up next to him so she could peel it. Juice ran sticky down her fingers and she sucked at them softly.

He indicated the empty parking spot where Kovacs' truck should have been. "He and Suda are out getting some things. She's going to be calling up something big and arcane this afternoon."

Mac chewed thoughtfully. "We trust her with that?"

Tristan nodded immediately. "Our opposition will likely be fielding some hefty spirits of their own. Having a great form on our side is like bringing a gun to a knife fight."

Mac was about to say I've never seen a Great Form until she realized that she hadn't seen all that many spirits period. "Better the devil you know, eh?"

"Always. While it's true of a lot of Cat shamans, Suda takes it to its most logical extension. We know. And she knows we know. And we know she knows we know. Et cetera." Tristan stretched, reaching his hands behind his head and arching his back. "The only real question is when. I've got a fairly good guess, and so does our fearless leader. But even if neither of those are correct, one thing's for certain, her pride won't let us fail this mission. Whatever she's got planned, it'll happen after our extraction from the building."

"Kovacs wants me close to you," said Mac, "in case you can't get to the AI that de Medici is carrying."

The swordsman nodded, standing. "Figured as much. I'll make a play for it, but if he's got any guards around him, I'll make sure to take them out and give you a shot at him. Remember, when the time comes, don't hesitate. Any mistake is forgivable as long as we survive it." He flashed her a rakish smile.