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

[Vegas]

23:27:51 Saturday, 20 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Mac stepped silently just behind and to the right of where Cris was kneeling beside the entombed body of her brother. When the waif-like girl didn’t look up or acknowledge her presence she cleared her throat loud enough to get the girl’s attention and let her know she was there.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone. Not now. Not like this.”

Mac spoke, her voice carrying on and into the wind as much as it found the young girl’s ears before Cris turned her face towards her, cheeks red from the cold wind and wet from her tears.

“It didn’t feel right to leave him alone out here.”

Mac shook her head knowing she couldn’t leave the girl out here or leave Tristan alone and unconscious inside.

“We can’t stay out here and look like prey. I don’t want to keep you from mourning, but it’s not safe to be out here tonight. Those Crimson Crush riders were already through here once tonight, I don’t need one of their lookouts or street kids keeping an eye out for anything or anyone that looks like a goldmine to them. Come back inside with me?”

Though she framed it as a question, truthfully, Mac wasn’t above dragging Cris back inside if it became necessary.

[grendel]

00:08:49 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Cris nods, shivering. She lets Mac guide her back into the small room, huddling close to the fire in an effort to get warm. The night remains cold and silent, the only sound the harsh wind curling off the Sound. Mac scans the area carefully nonetheless, her eyes alert for any indication of gang activity or the intrusion of other urban scavengers. She wondered if the rest of the Winternight cell survived, where they went, and if they knew about her involvement.

She hoped Drift and his family were all right. It seemed like a year ago that she'd stood outside his auto repair shop with Kovacs, watching the dark haired woman clutch her baby to her. In her memory Mac thought that she'd worn a look of sadness, as if she knew that Kovacs' arrival meant nothing but blood and death. She remembered how everyone used to look at him: Geist, the gangers the The Emporium, the young fighter outside Tristan's gym. He had carried some kind of invisible Mark of Cain, some aura that marked him indelibly as a predator. She looked at the dull gray synthetic of her right hand, so much like his, and wondered if she already carried the same mark, if it was the psychic scars of trauma and combat and loss which would be her badge that all other urban warriors recognized.

Tristan snored. Mac quirked a smile. It was a good sign, he was coming out of his Long Haul crash and sleeping normally. He'd be up and mobile in six hours or so, and they could finally venture out into the city again. Which was good, the hiding was taking a toll on her. Mac had grown used to Kovacs' incessant motion, and itched to have the uncertainties of her situation resolved.

Cris munched on a packet of crackers from the survival rations Mac had given her earlier, her eyes fixed on the low, flickering flames. She blinked, then looked over at Mac.

"Can I stay here?"

[Vegas]

00:27:57 Saturday, 20 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Mac half-shrugged before she shook her head. It wasn’t her safehouse to share beyond what she already had and she couldn’t in good conscience leave the girl here alone.

“You can’t. I mean, we’re not staying. As soon as he’s up we’re moving again. I promised I would keep you safe, and I’ll honor that. You wouldn’t be safe here alone after we leave and take everything with us.”

She painted a bleak picture of the situation for a reason, to set up the stage for dropping the girl somewhere with a level of security and safety beyond the streets without a lot of drama. She watched as Cris’ face fell almost instantly at her words, her eyes showing only the slightest bit of relief when Mac clarified she wouldn’t be left behind.

“You’ll be close by. When you need to come back.” She didn’t have to say more, both girls knew clearly what she was speaking of and for an instant Mac’s chest tightened when she reminded herself she didn’t have a place to mourn like Cris could and would. Shaking off the thought, she refocused on the girl and kept her face as neutral as possible to hide the swirl of emotions building again inside of her.

Distracting herself further, she pulled her commlink from the pocket of Tristan’s jacket and checked for any further news from Frankie or Mario before sending an update of her own their way. She asked if they had wheels and let them know she’d keep checking in with them as she had a better handle on just where things were headed. She attempted to piggyback on whatever signal she was able to harness and search for more details and more answers of what was going on in the city and around the world.

She was desperate at this point to be moving again, even just to be alone long enough to fall apart away from prying eyes. To pick herself up again like every time before and keep going forward. She was a survivor after all. Her thoughts left her hollow this time around however, and as she shoved the commlink back in her pocket, her gaze travelled from the swordsman’s prone form back to the girl huddled under the sleeping bag staring into the fire. She needed something to keep her from feeling the fatigue that was seeping into her bones, so conversation with Cris was the less painful distraction.

“How did you and your brothers end up out there?”

[grendel]

01:09:34 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

"Major wasn't my brother, he was just our friend. We were looking for something to eat. Or maybe something we could trade for food. When the power went out, my mom went down to the store to try and keep the looters away. Then the fires started. We had enough in the fridge for a couple of days, but after that there wasn't anything."

Cris rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands, sniffling. Mac nodded, her own memories filling in the aching hollowness of days spent scrounging for food, hoping to find something amidst the trash and wreckage of the urban wasteland. Then came the days of using her body as currency, working her way from the street hoods and gangers, up to the mid-class criminals, the foot soldiers of the Mafia and Yakuza syndicates, before finally making it to the big time, the corporate wage slaves and managers, the men with the real money. She cast a surreptitious glance at Cris, estimating it would be another couple of years before she could make that Devil's deal.

"I don't know what's still there, or who's left. I don't want to go back." Cris looked up, waiting for Mac to meet her gaze. "Can I go with you?"

[Vegas]

01:17:16 Saturday, 20 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Mac's eyes looked away for an instant before she closed and opened them slowly, returning to fix her gaze on Cris. She wasn't in a place to be the kind of help the younger girl needed. Hell, she wasn't even certain she'd be able to help herself down her new path once she and Tristan parted ways depending on how violently everything had changed throughout the city and how quickly or painfully slowly it came back.

"You don't have to go back," she paused, trying to find the words to spin the situation, to soften the blow of turning the girl out on her own but finding herself coming up short. "I said I would help you if you let me, and I will. But you can't come with me," Mac's voice faded to just above a whisper but she spoke the most raw truth she could offer.

"I don't know where I'm going."

[grendel]

01:46:29 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

"Oh. Okay."

Mac had anticipated anger or pleading, but the simple flat acceptance brought her up short, and she looked hard at Cris. The young girl's face betrayed nothing, though, as she stared into the wan firelight. In the end, Mac guessed she was simply trying to figure out the next best course of action to take. Kind of like Mac was herself.

She knew Tristan would be up in six hours or so, finally rested from the forced nap of a long-haul coma. Together they'd find a vehicle of some kind, through brute force or barter. The barter thought still made her skin crawl, but Mac forced herself to confront reality. To survive, they would need to use all of the resources at hand. Then it would be on to Kovacs' stash. At some point she assumed Tristan would split, either to recover his own gear and/or to make sure Demetria was all right. And she would rendezvous with Frankie and Mario.

And then what? Beyond the immediate actions of recovery and survival, what was her plan? She looked at the matte gray of her right hand where it lay against her thigh. She couldn't go back to hooking with this thing on her shoulder. No one was going to pay for a busted up girl with misshapen arms. At least, no one she could stomach playing with. Which left her facing a path she'd only too recently started walking.

Mac shook her head. There was no way she could go it alone. Even with the crash course from Kovacs, even with his continued electronic presence, there was still too much she didn't know. She needed a guide in the real world, someone who had an established network, who could help find and vet jobs for her, who could acquire gear and equipment and weapons. What was it that Kovacs called it? A fixer. She needed a fixer.

A memory flickered, a recent trip, one of the first drives she'd taken with Kovacs. Downtown Seattle, the waterfront, and a restaurant called Miner's Landing. The man was shorter and older than Kovacs by a few years, his face savvy, his eyes worldly. She wracked her brain. Zeyda, his name is Zeyda she recalled triumphantly. He had spoken with Kovacs like a friend. He would want to know about his death. Mac nodded to herself. After the stash, after Frankie and Mario, after she knew they'd make it through the week, she would go find Zeyda.

[Vegas]

02:19:22 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Mac felt only slightly better having a vague plan beyond getting reconnected with Frankie and Mario. Guilt over the thought of pawning Cris off on an overwhelmed mission still didn't sit well with her. She couldn't help but think there might be another solution somewhere, but she would have to learn more about the girl before it would come to her.

"I'm guessing he'll be up in just a few hours," She gestured towards Tristan. "And I'm fairly certain he'll want to get on the move shortly after. So that gives us a little while longer to get to know each other, and to have something else to eat."

Mac pulled a single ration from the bags and prepped it before handing it and a little more water to Cris, taking nothing for herself this time. She continued her conversation with the girl as a means to distract herself from her own growing hunger, a feeling she hadn't endured in quite a while.

"Tell me more about you, you mentioned your mom's store and how you couldn't go back... What can you do, I mean what are you willing to do to survive out there on your own?"

[grendel]

02:56:51 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Cris accepted the food without comment, eating mechanically. The fire had brought back the color to her face, the food and the nap giving her a bit more energy to deal with the situation. She still shrugged in response to Mac's question.

"Dunno. I'm guessing there isn't going to be any school on Monday. I guess I could go see if Jenni's family would let me stay with them. Or maybe Reza, but her dad is pretty strict."

She shifted uncomfortably. "I know a guy at school. He's a...a dealer. He always said to come see him if I needed to make a quick buck."

Her face twisted. "Maybe he'll let me get away with just sucking him off. He's kinda gross."

Mac felt herself shiver. "As long as that's all it is. Don't let him talk you into running any drops for him. Never get involved in someone else's crimes. As long as you're working for yourself, no one can tell you who to sell your body to."

She felt Cris' eyes on her and sucked in her bottom lip before nodding in response to the unasked question. "Yeah, I've done it. I wasn't too smart about it, though, and ended up in a bad situation until someone helped me out."

After a moment, Cris turned back to the fire. "You just did it to survive, though, right?" she asked, her voice small. "You didn't...you didn't like it, though?"

To give herself space to think, Mac took a drink of water, weighing her answer and how honest she was ready to be. "Not really. I liked the money, I liked what I could do with it. But being in the business wasn't pleasant."

Silence stretched between them again.

"I don't think I could do it," whispered Cris. "I mean, Ken and I had sex last year just to see what it was all about. It was okay, I guess. Some of the girls in my class talk about it all the time. Like they have these sugar daddies that they do stuff for and then they get to buy all this designer stuff. But mom always said that if a man was more interested in what's between your legs than what's between your ears, he's not really a man."

"Lord, if that ain't the truth," agreed Mac wryly.

"I can cook and clean and wash clothes," said Cris suddenly. "If I cleaned up your place, could I stay with you? You could, like, buy groceries and I could cook? I'm pretty good."

[Vegas]

03:12:51 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Mac smiled woefully at the girl's eagerness to remain with her, as well her own slight fondness for the waif. She started to shake her head and it shifted to a half-hearted shrug.

"I don't know, I can't make any promises beyond the next few hours."

She ran through her mental black book and tried to think of any options that she could attempt to reach out to to give Cris a safe place to stay that wouldn't end up with some prick who didn't care about her turning her out to the streets for his own benefit.

The Stable was out, even if Wayne hadn't self-imploded she knew all too well how he operated. Most of her connections were to similar setups only less solid and run by owners with less scruples than Wayne. Many of her other connections didn't have need or use of someone like Cris, maybe Matthew over at Underworld could stand to have someone looking after him, but she doubted the club would be open for business in the near future. She was running out of ideas when it came full circle, she hesitated for a moment before she asked.

What are the chances Linda would have use for a girl like her.

[grendel]

03:44:19 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Even if Linda doesn't have a use for her, Studio Milan is probably safer than any of the missions. Assuming, of course, that it came through this chaos intact.

Mac nodded with a grimace, accepting the caveat. She remembered Linda's eyes, though, and the capable grace she carried with her. Mac smiled grimly.

I'll bet on the whores any day of the week and twice on Sunday.

I would, too. Linda has more skills than just what she uses between the sheets.

"If you're willing to cook and clean, I think I may have a solution to this problem." Mac turned towards Cris, although the young waif couldn't have been privy to the silent conversation in her head. Something resembling a smile crossed Cris' face.

"Really?"

"I don't have a place anymore, and until I get some stuff settled I can't have you with me. But I've got friends who need domestic help, good women who will look after you," Mac nodded in response. Cris digested that for a moment, clearly relieved to hear that she'd be with other females.

"Okay. Will I see you again?"

"Sure, kiddo," said Mac, almost telling the truth about the chances of their paths crossing again. Then, she rethought, and nodded, this time to herself. She would make time to ensure that Cris was all right. The answer seemed to mollify her young companion, tension easing from her shoulders. Mac fed another scrap of wood to the fire, watching as the flames licked up around it, momentarily brightening the room. Tristan snored again. She glanced at Cris.

"You should try and get some sleep, too. When he's up, we're going to move quick."

[Vegas]

04:23:29 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

She watched as Cris pulled herself away from the fire, the relief apparent on her still dirty features as the girl agreed and curled back up inside the sleeping bag on the empty cot. Before long her breathing was deep and heavy in counterpoint to the swordsman's and Mac was once again left to the relative silence with the fire her only distraction.

She huddled inside the armored jacket that was two sizes too big for her and fought back the fatigue that threatened to close her too-heavy lids. She shifted her position, trying not to get too comfortable or too warm that she would drift completely off to sleep. She knew she needed to stay awake and the best thing she could do to in that moment was get into a complex conversation.

How much did you know about me before? That night I showed up on your doorstep. Why did you let me in?

Her question had multiple meanings, but she left it to him to decide just which vein he steered their discussion.

[grendel]

04:57:31 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

I knew that you were human, replied Kovacs. It was fairly obvious what skill set you were employing. Also that you were mundane. And had only the barest of combat training, nothing formal, just street fighting skills. Linda said that you had potential, that you needed help. She said that I should be careful.

Careful about what?

I'm not a hundred percent sure, although my best guess is that she was warning me about becoming emotionally involved with someone reeling from such a traumatic experience. Although her warning was appropriate, I decided not to listen to it.

Mac rubbed her forehead, unsure if she was ready for this. Not that she doubted her feelings, her emotional connection to Kovacs had been so much more than a simple shock response. There had been something magnetic and irresistible about him, some enigmatic force he possessed which drew her relentlessly towards him. Even now, the ache was painful.

Why not?

She felt him give a mental shrug.

Gut instinct. Intuition. Your eyes. The curve of your hips. Your smell. A thousand small things.

Tears prickled at the corner of her eyes again. His voice brought back such exquisite memories, such heart rending pain.

There is something about you that felt right to me. You felt like...home.

[Vegas]

05:29:56 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Mac felt the breath disappear from her lungs, her heart shredded by simple words that were he to have said them standing in front of her would have brought her a joy beyond anything she had felt before. Instead she was hit with another wave of intense loss squeezing her eyes shut tight to stop the fresh stream of tears while fighting to keep quiet, biting back her sobs and making her body shake.

Across the room Cris rolled over, but remained asleep, the movement drawing Mac's attention and making her conscious of the noise she was making. She drew a few shaky, deep breaths and hugged her knees to her chest as she perched on overwatch. She swiped her fingers beneath her eyes, whisking away the tears once again and she wondered if she'd ever be able to stop. With anyone else, she would have been able to push down the feelings, compartmentalize them and numb herself well enough to function. But Kovacs, he made everything different. More intense, more vivid, ultimately more painful.

You were like that for me too, or at least what I had always wanted it to be. You were my eye of the storm, my moments of peace.

She sat in a bit of silence with the Samurai, and a weak smile lifted the corners of her lips as it felt like before, they way the two of them could exist comfortably without speaking. She enjoyed it for a moment longer before another thought slipped into her head.

She warned me too you know, said I was liable to find more than I bargained for with you. I guess she was right.

In the background near-silence, Tristan's snoring shallowed, Cris tossed fitfully and Mac tried to pull herself together before they were on the move again.

[grendel]

06:11:29 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Kovacs chuckled. I figured as much. Womenfolk looking out for one another and all.

Another thought struck her.

Did you and Linda...?

No. Well. Not in the physical sense.

What do you mean?

After the team broke up, after Suda and I broke up, she helped me sort some things out. I was a little crazy in those days. She gave me a different perspective.

Mac nodded. It was a truth she'd discovered in her life as a whore as well. Beyond the demands they placed on her body, what the men who sought her services most wanted was a woman who listened to them, who paid attention to their words and the meanings behind them. She could see where a woman as skilled as Linda was would be one of the few that a man as complex as Kovacs was could turn to. Mac desperately hoped that Linda and the girls at Studio Milan had come through the chaos of the past week intact.

I hope she's all right, said Kovacs as if he were reading her mind. Although knowing her, I'd be surprised if she wasn't. She's as tough and resourceful as they come.

Mac nodded in agreement again. That had been her assessment of the madame as well. She glanced over at Tristan's prone form.

With any luck, we'll know either way in a couple of hours.

[Vegas]

06:39:51 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Mac found herself toeing the line between exhaustion and restlessness. Needing something to do she walked around the safehouse, gathering the evidence that they had been there at all, the discarded ration packets, bottles of water and whatever else might give them away before she closed up Tristan’s go bags after resorting items and taking stock of what was left. As long as she kept moving, doing something until the swordsman woke up, she knew she’d be ok.

She silently wished for a hit of Long Haul at that moment, something to keep her going at full throttle until she could hole up somewhere safe and crash, hopefully with Frankie and Mario if everything went to plan. She was focusing on her next steps when something crossed her mind.

With everything that happened, is there anyone who needs to know about you? And if so, what am I supposed to tell them?

Surely by now certain people would know Kovacs was gone, Isomer for one, but she questioned people outside the team’s inner circle, people like Linda and even Zeyda, those connected to him but directly to the run itself.

[grendel]

07:26:19 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

There's no one that needs to know immediately. You can tell both Zeyda and Linda when you see them. Isomer will find out on his own. There aren't any others of note remaining, said Kovacs quietly.

Again, Mac nodded, pacing the narrow room with directionless energy. It hadn't taken long to tidy things up, rearranging the supplies in the go bags and organizing what few pieces of gear she had left. The wan morning sunshine, filtered through the low clouds and smoke, was enough to illuminate the dingy walls and dirt strewn floor with depressing clarity.

After a few more laps, she finally settled herself by the window again, eyes scanning the streets as the city slowly started to come to life. Tristan stretched his arms over his head, yawning cavernously. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he glanced around.

"Taking in strays already?" he asked before Mac could explain Cris' presence.

"It's just temporary!" she replied, her tone sharper than she intended. If the swordsman noticed, he gave no indication, swishing a mouthful of water around before spitting it in the corner. Reaching into his bag, he rummaged through the gear, demolishing Mac's careful packing job, before coming up with a ration packet for himself.

"Anything happen while I was out?"

[Vegas]

07:47:23 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

She hadn’t had much time to reflect on Kovacs’ statement before Tristan had woken up, but it still struck her as painfully sad and yet so similar to her own situation that had things been different and he was still here there would be next to no one to tell that she was gone. She swallowed hard against that reality as she continued to look out the window a moment longer before turning towards the swordsman.

“Other than her?” Mac nodded towards Cris’ balled up form still asleep in the corner. “A group of Crimson Crush riders earlier. Three of them on bikes, maybe more. Killed her brother. To make a point, for fun, or for sport, I don’t know.” Her voice was flat as she distanced herself from the emotion of what happened, her walls going back up to keep everything and everyone at a manageable distance.

“I haven’t heard them ride nearby in a few hours, they might have moved on to more promising areas by now.”

She watched silently as Tristan voraciously devoured the first rations and started to tear into a second before she nodded towards Cris again.

“I just need,” She paused. “I want to get her somewhere safe, but not the missions, they’ve got to be overwhelmed. I know a place up in Renton if we’re headed back up into the city we can take her, drop her along the way? Just one extra stop.”

Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the slight pleading tone from her voice. She had some overwhelming need to protect this girl, or at least give her a fighting chance to survive. That feeling unnerved her, she didn’t get attached, she didn’t get involved because it meant complications, it meant commitment, it meant heartbreak.

Damn you Kovacs.

[grendel]

08:02:19 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

It is easy to become inhuman, even without augmentation. Always fight against it. It is the only thing worth fighting for.

Tristan glanced at Mac, his gaze warm and level, an expression halfway between amusement and curiosity on his face.

"Of course. You don't need to apologize for being human," he replied, echoing Kovacs' statement.

Having finished his breakfast, the swordsman produced a small travel toothbrush, clicking the base several times to activate the self-foaming toothpaste. He scrubbed his teeth before rinsing with another mouthful of water. He washed his feet, too, and put on clean socks before strapping on his boots. He glances around in some confusion before realizing that Mac is wearing his armored jacket. She shrugs, unapologetic. "Need something to go out into the Lion's Den with."

He gestures towards the waif curled up in the sleeping bag. "Let her wear it, she'll need it for the warmth at least."

Mac nodded, gently jostling Cris awake as Tristan finished gearing up. The young girl blinked awake in some confusion, before reality and the memories of yesterday crashed back in on her. For a moment she looks as if she's going to cry again, but she draws a deep, shuddering breath, letting only a single sob escape. She brushed her hair back from her face, looking up at Mac.

"C'mon," said Mac, "we're heading out. Put this on until we find you something more your size to wear."

Cris nodded wordlessly, slipping on the almost comically oversized jacket. She bunched the sleeves up so that her hands emerged from the cuffs. It didn't take but a minute for Mac to stuff her own gear into her pockets. She offered to help with the go bags, but Tristan declined.

"Doc said you weren't supposed to be doing any heavy lifting, at least not for another couple of days. Gotta give the sutures time to heal and the bones to set."

Mac grimaced, but didn't argue, hating the weakness imposed by her injuries. With both bags over one shoulder, and his sword in his right hand, Tristan led the way out from their bolthole, his eyes carefully scanning the surrounding terrain before gesturing the two women to follow. They made their way across the broken terrain, keeping close to the cover of buildings and alleys even though they were only headed down a block to where Tristan had parked. The dingy Ford Americar wasn't familiar to Mac, and she shot a glance towards the swordsman.

"There's no way Drift's ride would have lasted more than thirty minutes in this neighborhood," he replied, piling his bags in the trunk. Cris climbed in back while Mac settled into the passenger seat, missing the sleek urban lines of the Shadow. Tristan dropped into the driver's side, firing the engine. He grimaced at the rough idle, the little vehicle shuddering like a palsied animal.

"Where to?" he asked.

[Vegas]

08:47:22 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

"North, towards Renton."

Mac tried to stifle a moan of pain as she pulled her knees up to her chin and she settled into the front seat whose springs had seen better days. Tristan hadn't pulled away from the parking spot, obviously waiting for something more from Mac before they left. She didn't need to look over to his face to pick up on the swordsman's concern.

"I'm ok." She tried for reassuring, but the pain lingered more than she would have liked. "Place we're headed is on Castleton. I'll get you in as we get closer. I'm not sure what state it's in."

With a silent nod, Tristan pulled away from the curb and started the drive north. The Americar rumbled through the burned out streets and Mac stared out the front windshield as they drive in, taking in the current conditions and general state of the city that sprawled around them. Tristan had definitely taken them well off the beaten path while they holed up and it took a while before anything even stared to resemble familiar sights.

She turned back as much as her wounded body would allow her to check on Cris who had otherwise remained quiet in the backseat as the car rumbled beneath them.

"Everything ok? You warm enough back there?"

The girl answered with a silent, slightly shy nod, still engulfed by Tristan's jacket. Her eyes seemed to be taking in the scenery just as Mac had been before, watching evidence of the chaos, looting and other destruction along with some signs of life returning as well while the swordsman took a combination of the highways and surface streets. He drove with as much attention to his surroundings as Kovacs had, always on alert and ready for whatever might cross their paths.

Mac turned back to the front of the car and checked her pockets, pulling her commlink and checking it for new messages out of habit as much as hope that there would be more contact with Frankie.

[grendel]

09:39:47 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – Studio Milan, 5151 Castleton Way, Renton, Seattle

It took them at least twenty minutes longer to arrive at Studio Milan than it should have, despite the fact that there was half as much traffic as usual for a Sunday. Much of the city still resembled a war zone: burned out cars and buildings, wreckage carelessly bulldozed out of the way by emergency service and security vehicles, flags of caution tape flickering on every street corner. Matrix support was spotty, and grid guide was nonexistent. Mac counted at least a dozen intersections with temporary stop signs in place of broken or wrecked traffic lights.

Surreal sights abounded.

They passed through one street which bore the scorch marks from the fuel fire left over when the cargo zeppelin draped across the apartment building on the right had crashed. No one had bothered to remove the wreckage yet, streamers of the fabric lifting body twisted in the winter wind.

Pedestrians wandered the streets aimlessly, the newly homeless, the walking wounded, the survivors. Mac was instantly glad that she'd chosen someplace other than one of the rescue missions to drop Cris at. She knew, without seeing, that they were completely overwhelmed.

It was pretty overwhelming, even for an operator as seasoned as Tristan was. She could hear him murmuring under his breath, his eyes somber as they scanned the ruinous damage done to the city. Eventually they pulled into the parking lot of Studio Milan. Mac let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding: the building was still standing and seemed mostly unscathed. The front was scorched from what had probably been a molotov cocktail of some kind, while the parking lot looked to have been the scene of a minor skirmish. She grinned ruthlessly. Underestimating the toughness of the whores here had probably cost some people their lives. Tristan's thoughts were moving along the same lines.

"Maybe you should get out first," he said, his lips twisting in a grin. Mac nodded, matching the expression, but just in case she made sure her shirt covered the pistol holstered at her hip.

True enough, as soon as she stepped out of the car, the front door opened, but the girls who stepped out were only carrying their shotguns, not presenting them for an immediate volley. Linda was right behind them, a mean looking submachine gun slung across her body.

"Josie," greeted the older woman in a neutral tone.

"I've got a couple of friends with me," replied Mac. "May we come in?"

Linda scanned the surrounding street, her movements echoing those of Kovacs' so strongly that Mac once more entertained the idea of a more serious link between them. The madam nodded. Mac gestured, and Tristan killed the Americar's engine, exiting with an uncharacteristic slowness. His instincts clearly were telling him that everyone was still edgy. Mac wasn't about to argue. Cris came out as well, gangly and awkward in the oversized jacket. Together, the three of them ducked through the door and into the lobby of the whorehouse that had changed Mac's life forever.

[Vegas]

10:18:01 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – Studio Milan, 5151 Castleton Way, Renton, Seattle

Mac had ushered Cris in ahead of her, watching the girl practically shrink into herself as she passed the armed whores and as Tristan followed in behind her. She waited until everyone was inside and the heavy fire door was once again secured before she turned her full attention to Linda who stood near Mac, looking at her expectantly.

"I'm glad to see you're still standing, though I'd have expected nothing less."

Her statement and implied concern earned her a brief nod from the madam.

“The building’s a little worse for wear, but we managed all right.”

Nodding, Mac could feel the girls still circled loosely around her and her companions, but she made no effort to tear her attention away from Linda, not wanting to overstep her welcome or cause anyone to get jumpy.

“I appreciate you letting us in, I don’t want to monopolize much of your time but I was wondering if there was somewhere we could talk?”

Mac kept her face neutral, not giving away much as her eyes slid over towards Cris before returning to the madam’s own. It was then that she couldn’t completely keep her emotions in check and hidden from the older woman, though she was convinced Linda could see through her just about as Kovacs ever could.

“Of course,” Was accompanied by a curt nod. “I trust your friends will be kept in good hands while you’re gone.”

Mac glanced towards Tristan and a silent understanding passed between them with a slight incline of his head and a nod from her own. She let Linda lead her towards a nearby office that was bathed in a décor that matched the woman who walked confidently ahead of her even without the need of the submachine gun slung across her torso. She gestured towards a chair on the opposite side of an ornate desk with a long, slender, arm. Mac sank into the chair as the room descended into silence, and she knew she needed to make the opening volley. Her voice was low and soft when she started to speak.

“I truly am glad to see that you and the girls are safe. And you have to understand if I had another viable option I wouldn’t have just show up on your doorstep again.”

Linda’s brow raised slightly but the woman said nothing, allowing Mac to continue.

“This isn’t really about me at all, but the girl who is with me. She’s got nothing, she watched as a couple of gangers killed her brother for sport. I don’t have the ability to help her right now, not in the slightest, I’ve lost everything.”

Mac paused without meaning to, letting the entirety of her choice of words sink in.

“She needs a place to stay, and I couldn’t drop her off at the missions and leave her to a free-for-all. She's eager and willing to earn her keep, but she's not one of us. Not yet, maybe not ever.”

She waited for the madam’s reply, desperately trying to hold it together and get Cris’ situation straightened out, not quite ready to speak about what had happened to Kovacs. Not quite yet.

[grendel]

10:32:29 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – Studio Milan, 5151 Castleton Way, Renton, Seattle

Linda nodded, a momentary wry smile on her face that diminished the pain Mac read in her eyes. And she knew that there were more losses, enough to go around, but her own wound was still raw and overpowering. She wasn't ready to talk about it.

"Of course she's welcome to stay with us. And it won't matter if she ever walks our path. In truth, I always hope they don't."

The older woman fell silent for a moment, then stood and made her way to a small heater on the shelf. From the cupboard beneath, she withdrew two cups and a pair of teabags. Mac felt her fingernails dig fiercely into her palms, fighting back the tears as the smell of tea steeping filled the small space. Linda kept her back turned, waiting, her face turned towards the frosted glass window that was half the light in the room.

"He didn't make it, did he?" she asked at last. Mac's cheeks were suddenly wet.

"No," she whispered. A shiver shook Linda's shoulders, and she hugged her arms around herself. More minutes passed. At length, she brought the mugs over, setting one down in front of Mac before taking a seat on the floor and leaning back against the desk. They sipped their tea in silence.

"How?" asked Linda.

"Like a warrior," replied Mac without hesitation, her voice steadier than she anticipated. Linda smiled.

"He never believed me when I told him he was a romantic at heart."

Mac coughed, realizing suddenly that Kovacs could still hear them, although he'd remained uncharacteristically quiet. She wondered if he was deliberately giving them privacy. She found she didn't really care, suddenly welcoming the chance to mourn with a woman who'd clearly cared for Kovacs in a similar, if not as intimate, way. Although Mac still had her doubts about that as well.

"What are you going to do?" Mac glanced up to meet Linda's gaze, the older woman had that streetwise, inquisitive look that Mac feared would see through any artifice.

"I haven't planned too far ahead," she replied. "I have a stop to make to see if any of my gear survived, then I have friends who are waiting for me. After that, I guess just a day at a time."

Linda nodded, reaching out to rest a hand on Mac's knee. After a moment, the younger woman covered it with her own.

"There will be shelter here for you, if you need it," offered the madam. "And more, perhaps, in time. But shelter, at least, in this uncertain world."

[Vegas]

10:49:37 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – Studio Milan, 5151 Castleton Way, Renton, Seattle

Her eyes narrowed slightly, questionably, at Linda's offer, specifically just what the 'more' might ever be. She didn't voice the question however, the woman's offer of shelter was already more than generous when she had already agreed to take Cris in as well.

"Thank you. You're offer is much appreciated and if it becomes necessary I'll be back."

Mac managed a soft smile and a gentle squeeze of Linda's hand before she reluctantly pulled her hand back from the madam's, breaking their connection in an act of self preservation.

"Is there anything you and your girls need right now? Anything I can do for you?"

She wrapped both of her hands around the mug, desperate for its warmth to stave off the chill and emptiness that filled her and still shuddered slightly as her eyes moved over the matte grey polymers that now made up her right hand.

Anything else you want me to share with her?

[grendel]

10:58:43 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – Studio Milan, 5151 Castleton Way, Renton, Seattle

Nothing pressing. Later, when things are settled, you and she might have another conversation.

Mac fought to keep the confusion off her face. Kovacs was so rarely vague that she couldn't help but spend extra energy puzzling over his statements when he was. Linda wasn't paying attention, though, her own gaze turned momentarily inwards.

"No, we're all right. We have enough food and water for another couple of days, we've been rationing carefully. And our ammunition supplies are enough, I don't think we're going to see any more action like we had the first couple of nights."

Mac agreed with that assessment. As tumultuous as the previous days had been, it seemed like the city was slowly returning to itself, shaking off the madness and insanity of those fire-shot nights and once more stepping forward into the cool winter sunlight. They might never be the same, probably wouldn't. But like every other disaster the city had weathered, it would live on. Mac liked to think that what had happened hadn't been even close to a mortal wound, but she knew better. Despite the outcome, the damage done, she knew it would have been worse if de Medici had been able to execute his plan as he'd desired. She looked down at the cool synthetic of her new right hand. They'd stopped it, but at what cost?

A sudden trill of laughter from outside the office brought Mac's thoughts back from their dark place, and she grimaced. "I uh, I should go before he steals all your girls."

Linda quirked a smile. "He did seem the roguish sort." She stood and accepted the mug back from Mac before following her out to the lobby.

Tristan stood with his arms around one of the girls, although the shotgun was still in her arms.

"Just sharing some pointers," he explained in response to Mac's questioning eyebrow.

"Uh huh." Her tone betrayed exactly how likely she thought that was. Rather than commenting, though, she took a deep breath, turning instead to Cris.

[Vegas]

11:13:02 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – Studio Milan, 5151 Castleton Way, Renton, Seattle

She rolled her eyes at the swordsman as she tried to contain a slight smile, Tristan had always managed to find a way to lighten her mood with his frat-boy antics. When she turned her gaze back towards Cris she was a bit more somber.

"I want to introduce you to a friend of mine. Cris this is Linda, she's the owner of this house. These are her girls," She gestured to the few girls who still lingered in the hallway, armed and curious. "Linda has generously offered a place for you to stay, here with her girls where you'll be safe."

She watched both relief and fear flash across the girl's face, realization of just what kind of "house" Linda ran registered. Mac shook her head immediately as she scooped the girls frail hands into her own.

"As long as you're willing to pull your weight around here, cleaning, cooking, all those things you do well, you'll have a place to stay and they'll all look after you like you were one of their own. Linda has a way to reach me if it's necessary, and I'll try to come by in the next few days and bring you anything you might need that they can't provide. Ok?"

Cris nodded shyly and practically retreated into Tristan's giant jacket as her blue eyes took in the madam. One of the girls opposite of where they stood, a leggy blonde, let her weapon slide to her side on the sling it rode on before she stepped towards Mac and Cris and held out her hand.

"Hi, I'm Noelle!" She was friendly and seemed to genuinely be trying to make a connection with Cris and for that Mac was grateful.

"Noelle, why don't you take our new guest to her room." Linda's voice had an air of authority and elegance, someone you didn't want to disappoint or defy. The blonde nodded and offered her hand to the waif and they had barely made it halfway down the hall when pounding feet lead to the girl running into Mac like a ton of bricks and hugging her tightly.

"Thank you." Whispered the girl, her face buried into Mac's shirt and she couldn't help but hug the girl back. Eventually the girl let her go and once she got Tristan's jacket back around her own shoulders she turned back to Linda and thanked her again, for everything.