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

[grendel]

12:46:19 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – Complete-U-Store, N 142nd St, Downtown, Seattle

"You're welcome," replied Linda with a smile. "I don't think it'll be a problem. The girls like having someone to take care of."

Mac nodded, watching as a familiar head of blonde curls and cornflower blue eyes appeared in the hallway. Noelle made the introduction and Samsara hugged Cris like a big sister. Before she could say anything else, though, Linda had embraced her.

"I'm glad you made it," she whispered.

"Me, too," said Mac, once more feeling her emotions bubbling towards the surface. She coughed to give herself some space, turning back towards the door only to find Tristan rounding second base and heading towards third with the brunette he'd been 'just sharing some pointers' with.

"Ahem!"

Tristan broke away, and the girl giggled, flushing. The swordsman was utterly unapologetic, though. "Just helping out with the survival trauma."

"To the car," pointed Mac. "I'll call you," she offered Linda.

"Be careful out there," smiled the madam.

Tristan already had the Americar up and running by the time Mac climbed into the passenger seat.

"You're incorrigible."

"You say that as if it were a bad thing."

They cruised by Rollo's place. It was a burned out skeleton. She wasn't sure, but she guessed that the truck was one of the twisted wrecks still buried. There wasn't any signs of life in what was left of the house. They drove on.

It was a similar story at what used to be Kovacs' place, only this time it was obviously the wreckage of the courier van buried half in/half out of the living room which was the culprit.

The damage to the matrix infrastructure probably resulted in a lot of these. The drone dog brains are all right as long as they have the back-up of grid guide and their matrix servers. Take those away and it's 50/50 what you're going to end up with.

Mac nodded in response to Kovacs' assessment, passing it along to Tristan, although she was pretty certain that he'd arrived at the same conclusion already. They drove on.

Following her directions, Tristan pulls the Americar into the parking lot of the storage facility. There's a temporary gate where the permanent one used to be, a bored looking ork dressed in a rent-a-cop uniform motions them to stop. Mac gives him the locker number and an access code provided by Kovacs. It's enough to get them through. They park and follow the wall mounted maps since none of the AR functionality was operational. The narrow closet sized alcove opens in response to the Mac's code, revealing a small arsenal along with the few odds and ends Kovacs saved from his house.

Tristan appropriates several boxes of ammunition, before picking up the dusty picture of the young men standing on the beach. Something tugs at the corner of his lips, a smile perhaps, and he glances at Mac with a raised eyebrow. She nods. He slides the picture from the frame before tucking it into the inner pocket of his jacket.

"I'll wait in the car," he says softly, "grab whatever you want."

[Vegas]

13:17:23 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – Complete-U-Store, N 142nd St, Downtown, Seattle

Mac waited a few moments until Tristan's footsteps no longer echoed in the empty hallway before she let herself truly look around. Her eyes moved about the small space, taking stock of the small arsenal and what she planned to leave with. Familiar weapons, ammunition, enough to keep her supplied for the near future. It brought some measure of relief, though she was quick to note there would be plenty of things she would still have to acquire, changes of clothes and food were high on her immediate priority list.

She felt the aches throughout her body as she sank to the floor shaking, unable to stay on her feet any longer as everything caught up with her at once in the first few minutes she was actually alone. She held her head in her hands as the tears flowed freely, and she attempted to come to terms with all that was lost. The feelings gutted her to the core.

Jesus Kovacs.

She allowed herself a few more moments of self pity, a few more to mourn, before she was reminded that Tristan was still waiting for her, was her only form of reliable transportation, and most importantly had somewhere else to be.

And I'm keeping him from her.

Mac scrubbed the tears from her cheeks and shifted her position on the floor to start going through the odds and ends, the things Kovacs had felt were important enough to save. They became incredibly important to her in that moment.

[grendel]

13:28:53 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – Complete-U-Store, N 142nd St, Downtown, Seattle

For a life, there wasn't much remaining. Apart from the folded sets of armor, ammo cans, and stacked weapons, was a single box, perhaps forty centimeters on the long side. Mac put her back against the wall and opened it. On top were the small knife and figurines she remembered from the shelf in his house. Beneath that were hard copies of electronic documents: the deed to the house, title to the truck, and another vehicle that Mac didn't recognize. An official looking envelope held an ornamented piece of paper conferring a Masters degree in aerospace engineering on Roland A. Kovacs. A small blue box held an unfamiliar military award, a cross ringed with laurel leaves, and a folded citation.

"For unheralded courage in confidential actions against numerically superior enemies," read Mac. She set the blue box aside. Another photograph, much older, a family snapshot on a picnic table in a park. She recognized Kovacs' eyes. More papers beneath that, she recognized some banking codes. A couple of unmarked OMC chips. And that was it.

After a moment, she pocketed the OMC chips, reloads for her pistol and submachine gun, an armor jacket which didn't look too outsized, and a pair of ballistic gloves. She couldn't, despite her desire, bring any of the heavier hardware. Not until she had a vehicle and a secure location. Locking the unit behind her, she jogged back out to the car.

[Vegas]

13:35:19 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – Complete-U-Store, N 142nd St, Downtown, Seattle

Mac wound her way back out of the building, finding herself pausing in the external doorway and looking around out of something akin to a new habit before making a bee-line to Tristan's Americar. She glanced back towards the storage facility and sent a silent string of hope that Kovacs unit would continue to remain secure until she could return.

Exhaling a long stream of breath that plumed in the chilled air, she opened the passenger side door and slid back inside the relative warmth of the car.

"Sorry, I lost track of time in there."

Her apology was genuine as she spared a glance the swordsman's way before she drew her knees up and tucked her feet beneath her on the front seat, melting into the bulk of the armored jacket from the storage unit, her mind convinced she could still smell traces of Kovacs on it.

"Don't suppose this rust heap has enough juice to make one last stop? Last favor I'll ask I swear."

She pulled her commlink from her pocket, grateful to see at least a single bar of service. She quickly fired off a message to Frankie asking for confirmation of their exact location before she made Tristan waste anymore time going on a wild goose chase to meet up with her friends.

[grendel]

13:52:26 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 5080 Unit E, 111th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

"No worries," replied Tristan, occupied for a moment with removing several slices of processed cheese from the turkey club sandwich in his lap. Mac glanced around quizzically, almost curious enough to ask where he'd gotten it. The buzz of her commlink distracted her, though, and she fed the address in Frankie's text into the car's autonav. Even though Grid Guide was down, the system could rely upon its onboard store of maps for navigation purposes. Tristan back the car out of the lot and aimed them towards the freeway, munching quietly on his snack. Mac gazed out the window, her eyes taking in the damage to the city streets while her mind turned over recent memories.

Did you ever wear that award?

We weren't authorized to wear awards from foreign nations. It was basically meaningless anyway. We did our job. Matushek didn't make it back. He was the one who deserved the award.

Mac grimaced and chewed on her bottom lip. The ride passed in silence until they bumped over the lip on the driveway to the apartment building that matched the address on Frankie's text.

"Want me to come up with you?" asked the swordsman. Mac shook her head.

"Nah. I've got it from here." She clasped her hands together, unsure of what to say. Emotion welled inside her, a feeling of terrible loss coiling about the base of her spine. Would they ever see each other again? She glanced over at Tristan, who once more gave her a brilliant, warm, human smile. He held his arms out and they embraced, a bit awkwardly over the center console of the car.

"Take care of yourself," he said softly. "If you need anything, you know how to reach me."

"Thanks for being there for me," she replied in an eerie echo to parting words someone else said to him four days ago. She missed the flicker of pain in his dark eyes as he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

Then she was out of the car, bag slung over her shoulder and heading towards the entrance cubicle. A cold, welcome wind stung at her cheeks, and she fought back more tears. The door was already open, and she elected for the stairs, climbing the six flights to the third floor before turning right out the door and making her way to the end of the hall. Standing to the side, she rapped sharply with the back of her hand.

"Who is it?" called a gruff voice from inside.

"Tooth fairy," she replied. The door opened on Mario's bulk behind the barrel of a Remington shotgun held at port arms.

"What's the password?" he asked, a smile growing on his face.

[Vegas]

14:19:37 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 5080 Unit E, 111th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

Mac was about to make some off-color and disparaging remark about his mother when Frankie's exasperated sigh broke the silence.

"She's here already? Jesus that was quick."

Mac could hear her voice from across the apartment even though the doorway blocked the view of her friend and Frankie's voice grew with increasing volume along with her footsteps and she continued chatting casually.

"Did she bring her friend with her again? Or maybe The One this time?"

Her friend's voice was teasing, but she couldn't hide the wince from Mario's gaze at the implied mention of Kovacs, and when she looked up she caught his eyes filled with both concern and understanding.

"She's alone."

"Damn, it would have been fun to see her cute friend again, I bet we..."

Frankie's comment was cut short as she came around the door and got her first look at Mac's bruised and damaged body.

"Oh my god! Your hair! Your face!" Frankie's eyes continued to roam over her finding all the new flaws, including the matte grey poking out from the cuff of her new-to-her jacket.

"Your hand!!" Frankie's eyes went wide as she realized the extent of Mac's injuries.

"Arm," Mac replied flatly. She saw the flash of worry cross Mario's face as he was trying to figure out what Mac's presence could bring to their doorstep and his gaze shifted down the hall like he was expecting trouble to come from around the corner. Mac sensed his sudden hesitation and she wondered for a moment if it had been a good idea to come.

"Hey, I don't want to throw a wrench in whatever you two have going on here. I don't want to add to your troubles, I just haven't slept in what feels like forever and even if I could crash on your couch for a couple of hours, I'll be out of your hair right after."

Mario was about to begrudgingly agree to her terms when Frankie shook her head and started in her mother-mode.

"Don't be silly! We're not about to kick you out to the curb!" Her friend gently pulled her into the apartment while Mario shut and locked the door behind them.Frankie led Mac to the couch and let her set her bag beside it, before curling up into a ball in one corner. Her friend disappeared through a doorway and returned a moment later with a pillow and a warm-looking blanket that she handed over and Mac accepted gratefully.

Mac could see all the concern and worry on her friend's face and all the questions she was dying to ask brewing behind her eyes. Deciding to head it off at the pass, because she wasn't quite ready to tell them everything, she fired off a question of her own.

"Thanks, how'd you guys end up here? I thought you were in a motel somewhere in Everett? Whose place is it anyway?"

[grendel]

14:36:25 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 5080 Unit E, 111th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

"It's my place," smiled Mario. "Things seemed to have died down enough to risk coming back."

Mac noticed that he hadn't put down the shotgun, though. He put his hand on her left shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It's good to see you again."

Frankie was still fussing over her, combing the damaged portions of her hair with her fingers. "Jesus, girl, you're a disaster. I'm glad you're here, though. I've been worried about you since this all began."

Mac knew where this was going and couldn't bring herself to bare her pain again. She hugged her friend. "Frankie, I'm really tired. Can I tell you everything later?"

Hurt flickered through Frankie's eyes at the curt dismissal, but it cleared almost immediately. Mac sighed, she could apologize later.

"Yeah, of course girl, get some rest." Frankie elbowed Mario who nodded and stood.

"Don't worry, the neighborhood's okay and I've got the watch."

Mac managed a smile, flipping the blanket down over her legs and leaning back into the comfort of the couch. The early afternoon sunshine was pale against the far wall, filling the room with shadows when Mario killed the lights. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the distant ringing in her ears. She'd had to consciously bite back the snort when Mario mentioned he was on watch. The memories of Tristan's lethal shadow in front of the small fire made her contemptuous of anyone else. She guessed it was always going to be this way, her judgment forever biased by the predators she'd known on her first run. Her every step in the shadows guided by their example. Assuming, of course, that those were steps she wanted to take. If she didn't, what then?

[Vegas]

18:32:48 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 5080 Unit E, 111th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

She tried to make herself as comfortable on the oversized couch, the warmth of the blanket attempting to lull her into sleep, but her head wouldn't quiet down and she sat in the half-light still weighing the limited options she saw for her future. She went round and round in circles for a good while before she closed her eyes and silently yelled at her mind to shut up. She was physically exhausted and mentally drained, and she was grateful when sleep finally swallowed her into darkness.

Her mind still spun as she descended further into sleep, torturing her with expanding memories of Wednesday morning. Fragments of memories twisted with the betrayal of Suda. She tossed and turned on the couch as she dreamt.

Kovacs going down to his knees, and Suda's smug smile as it happened. And instead of the Roadmaster exploding beside her and tearing her body to shreds, this time is was the shaman's spirit minons rending the flesh from muscle, extracting as much pain as possible with each cut and tear. The pain was overwhelming and she was begging for mercy, her cries turning into screams that echoed in her ears.

Mac woke, the scream dying in her throat about the same time Frankie's hand attempted to cover her mouth. She shook off her friend, her chest heaving with every ragged breath she took as she tried to let go of the nightmare. Unfortunately it was just as much of a recount of what had happened the night Kovacs had died as a manufactured figment of her imagination. She remembered more of of the seconds before Suda had blown up the Roadmaster, none of them things she wanted to remember.

Mac blinked against the now murky darkness that had fallen across the apartment, the pockets of shadows outnumbering the limited light that Mario had flipped on. She focused on Frankie's familiar face to ground and center herself and then shook her head.

"I'm sorry."

[grendel]

18:52:14 Sunday, 21 January 2063 - 5080 Unit E, 111th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

"It's okay," whispered Frankie, gesturing quietly with her hand. Mario nodded, disappearing back down the hall. Frankie smoothed the blanket down over Mac's legs. The two sat in silence for a moment.

"I don't know what happened out there, and I'm not sure I want to know. But if you need to talk about it, you know I'm here."

Mac nodded, raw once again with unchecked emotion. Tears trembled in her eyes. She put her hands on Frankie's, three flesh and blood entwined with one synthetic. Once more silence fell between them.

"It was madness, Frankie," whispered Mac. "It was love. God help me, but I loved him!" She collapsed into her sister whore's arms, and wept.

[Vegas]

19:12:51 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 5080 Unit E, 111th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

Mac fell apart in Frankie's arms, sobbing until she curled up, her head in her sister's lap as Frankie stroked her hair and demurred Mac's declaration of love, knowing that wasn't a line she had ever crossed or even toed before. It was their code of ethics among whores, you didn't get involved and you never fell in love.

"Oh sweetie, you couldn't have been in love. Lust maybe, but girls like us don't fall in love."

Mac shook her head against the girl's thigh with as much force as she could manage as he body still shuddered with sobs and she choked on her tears. When she pushed herself up and stared her friend, the look on Mac's face and the vulnerableness in her eyes spoke more than her words ever could. The truth and depth of her feelings were evidenced by the pain that lingered in her eyes, and in that moment Frankie regretted her words.

"Oh god Mac, I'm so sorry."

Mac swallowed hard as she tried to stop the tears, all too aware that Kovacs was privy to her declaration, words she should have said to him, not about him. Words that had she said them just might have influenced the outcome of the situation slightly differently. Maybe just enough that he would still be here with her instead of being alone as her world turned upside down and she cried and mourned in the arms of the closest thing she had to a real friend.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," She managed a hoarse whisper. "Everything's changed Frankie. I've changed. To the point that I'm scared of what happens next. Of what the consequences are."

[grendel]

19:31:21 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 5080 Unit E, 111th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

"We'll get through this, girl, just like everything else," said Frankie, her tone soft but forcefully certain. She combed her fingers through Mac's hair, gently teasing out any of the singed and burned wreckage. Mac let the tears roll silently down her cheeks, unable to summon the energy to stop them.

"You can stay here as long as you want," clarified Frankie, although Mac had known she was welcome already. "Mario's been keeping me warm at night, but since you're here I can kick him to the couch and we can take the bed."

Mac made a noise of protest, but her sister waived it away. "Don't worry, I meant it platonically. The dude's like my brother just like you're my sister. I'd be weird if we did anything together. We've got enough soy to get us through until Tuesday, maybe Wednesday if we're scarce. But after that we're gonna need some supplies."

Frankie's lips twisted in a grimace. "Sorry about that, by the way. I know it's dirt compared to what you're used to but it's all we could get our hands on last minute."

Mac choked out a laugh, swiping her hand across her cheeks. "S'okay, all I've had for the past couple of days are survival rations. Soy will be just fine by me."

"You really were roughing it, huh?" marveled Frankie. Mac nodded, sitting up and rubbing her face.

"Frankie, I have to tell you something. What I got involved with? Who I got involved with? They're dangerous. I don't know how much is left, if anything, that could trace back to me. But it's serious. I'm talking full out urban war serious, assault rifles, great form spirits, a goddamn attack helicopter." She reached out with her right hand, no longer flesh and blood but a living scar, resting it on Frankie's leg and pretending she didn't see the slight flinch that ran through her sister. "If I stay, there's a chance you could get caught up in it."

She glanced meaningfully towards Frankie's shoulder, and the scar she knew lived there. Frankie nodded, and Mac hoped the seriousness of her warning had set in. Then her sister whore stuck out her chin defiantly. "Frag it, I don't care! You're the closest thing I have to a sister in this world. I won't let you go it alone."

[Vegas]

19:56:32 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 5080 Unit E, 111th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

Mac was grateful for Frankie's offer, and she would take her up on it for a couple of days at most while she healed up, or if she got any indication she was putting her friend in the kind of danger she had tried to warn her about. Holing up here would give her the opportunity to lay the groundwork for her immediate future needs and hopefully clarify the path she'd ultimately walk.

"Thanks girl, it means more than you know. Especially now, but only for a day or two at the most. I don't want to impose."

Frankie started to shake her head, when Mario returned to the living room and cast a questioning glance towards the two women as Mac looked all the worse for wear, her eyes red-rimmed and teary still.

"Don't worry, I'll take the couch," She went for a smile but it was short lived as she focused her attention on Mario. Frankie was all in, but he deserved the chance to know all the details and get the opportunity to kick her to the curb as it was his place.

"You deserve to know what kind of trouble I might bring to your door. Frankie isn't ready to kick me out, but this is your place and ultimately it's up to you."

She laid out the minimal details she shared with Frankie, keeping as much of the details as she felt safe sharing but that would be vague enough to hopefully protect them if it came down to it. Mac sat still when she was done, waiting for Mario's verdict, and mentally preparing to leave.

[grendel]

20:11:19 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 5080 Unit E, 111th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

Mario listened as Mac laid out in stark, if abbreviated, detail what had happened. She sighed at the ensuing silence, fearing the worst. Glancing up at last, she was surprised to see the grin on the ork's face.

"Good, it's about time."

Mac shook her head in puzzlement, opening her mouth to ask what he meant. Mario beat her to it.

"I've been waiting to hear how we were going to pay those bastards back for Gulfen. We make a great team."

Mac stared at him, wondering if he'd perhaps gone crazy, or hadn't heard a word she'd said. She opened her mouth to curse him, to deny, to try and change his mind. But the words wouldn't come. Truth was, she did want to get back at Winternight. She wanted to make them pay, for everything. For Gulfen. For Frankie and Holly Anne and Anastacia. For her arm.

For Kovacs.

She shook her head.

Aren't you supposed to be my voice of reason?

Not sure I can be impartial when one of the courses of action is avenging my death. But you could do a lot worse than working with Mario. He's young, with talent, and the death of his friend will drive him. If you decide to stay in the shadows, this would be a good first step to take.

[Vegas]

20:23:34 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 5080 Unit E, 111th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

Mac fell silent on a longer than normal pause in the conversation with Mario, a side effect of holding a separate conversation inside her head at the same time, a slight smile pulled at her lips at Kovacs' honesty.

If? I'm not sure I have, or want another choice.

The dark thoughts of revenge slipped back into her consciousness, sinking their claws into her basest desires and taking hold. There would always be a need for her to even the score, and there was a rational part of her who knew that the need may never be fully sated, but it would always burn because of what they had stolen from her.

She tried to shake the thoughts from her head and looked back at Mario.

"If you're sure. I'm not sure how easy it's going to be to track them down, but as long as they still breathe and our friends don't, I'm going to keep looking."

She watched and noted the concern that flashed across her friend's features, but Frankie knew how stubborn and loyal Mac could be and didn't bother to try to talk either of her friends out of doing something potentially foolish.

There was an energy that crackled within the room, something that Mac was feeding off of as she took another step further down the path towards the shadows and cemented at least her near future.

[grendel]

20:31:53 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 5080 Unit E, 111th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

"Ain't nothing going to be easy to sort out in that mess out there." Mario crossed the floor of the front room to stand by the window, lifting the blinds away to stare out into the darkness. The city seemed more sinister than usual, thicker shadows crowding the streets, beat back by far fewer streetlights than normal.

"But we know some folks, right? Some people who oughta still be plugged in, who might know of a group trying to get out of the city. Or a group having just got out. I don't think they'd try and make a flight after all this. 5-0 would be watching Sea-Tac pretty close." He rasped his hand across a day's worth of stubble on his chin. "I figure they're hoofing it overland, or maybe on a boat. Or maybe just lying low, trying to figure which way the wind's gonna blow before they break from the city."

High probability that the surviving Winternight cells are either still in the city or are evading to a pre-determined rendezvous point. The release of Deus seemed like their Hail Mary, so it's hard to determine what, if any, follow-on orders the cells might have received. They may just simply try and continue to complicate recovery efforts via sabotage and a campaign of guerrilla warfare.

"I think you're right," replied Mac, even as she absorbed Kovacs' silent input. It was a matter to which she'd put some thought of her own, and Mario's estimations closely matched those she'd arrived at herself. "I do know a guy that could help, I was planning on going to see him as soon as I felt up to it. It would be nice not to have to go it alone."

Mario grinned again, stepping close enough to offer his hand to Mac. She took a lesson from Tristan, her synthetic hand gripping his forearm while his hand closed about hers, bringing them wrist to wrist. For a moment he seemed confused, then a look of feral understanding crossed his face, and he nodded. Frankie lay her hands on top of theirs.

"Be careful out there. You two are the only family I've got left now."

[Vegas]

20:39:27 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 5080 Unit E, 111th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

Mac looked up and into the eyes of her sister and nodded.

"We'll be as careful as we can, that's what I can promise."

She let go of Mario's hand and drew Frankie in for a tight hug. She knew given all that she had already seen and experienced first hand, she couldn't promise that if they followed the leads in hopes of finding the people responsible, that there wouldn't be additional collateral damage. She released her friend, but kept her left arm slung over the girl's shoulders as her gaze moved back to the larger Ork.

"I'm definitely not 100 percent, but that shouldn't stop us from starting to pool our resources, talent and information that we can put towards this mess. Maybe talking it through tonight of something to eat can give us a clearer path that we can follow."

[grendel]

20:53:42 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 5080 Unit E, 111th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

Mario shrugs, but nods. "Well, you've pretty much seen where my talents lie. I'm not much for subtlety and sneaking around, but I know some guys who work around the docks in Tacoma, as well as do some cargo handling for Sea-Tac. Gear wise, I've got the hand cannon and my street sweeper here, nothing fancy but they get the job done."

Mac nods, forcing herself to mentally recalibrate her expectations. She wasn't running with the elite anymore, she couldn't expect Mario to bring the kind of firepower that Kovacs wielded, or the variety of skills demonstrated by Tristan.

"I've got a little bit of gear stashed away, mostly weapons and ammunition but some surveillance stuff as well. Some armor. What we really need is wheels."

Mario nodded. "Yeah, can't really help there. My ride got torched in the initial rioting."

"Priority one, then," said Mac. "As soon as we're mobile, we can hit up your contacts and see if they've tracked anyone trying to get out of town quickly."

Something gurgled, and Mario grimaced. "And maybe some real food while we're at it."

[Vegas]

21:13:54 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 5080 Unit E, 111th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

Mac smiled softly, sharing a very similar feeling of hunger and need for something besides emergency rations.

"Ok then, wheels, food and then hitting up your friends on the docks."

A vague plan started to unfold in her head, remembering something Kovacs had pointed out, how he reminded her of her previous set of skills. The city was waking up beneath them, agonizingly slowly, but people were out even if in limited numbers to try to make sense of what had happened. She would have an opportunity, and if Mario was there as extra muscle. She spun on her heel and sided up next to Frankie.

"Don't suppose you'd have an extra set of clothes I could borrow," She gave the girl a knowing look but continued to explain anyway. "Something tight and low-cut?"

The smile on Mac's lips became forced and strained as she saw the questioning look on her friend's face, but thankfully Frankie didn't voice them.

"Sure. I should have something that will fit you. I grabbed a lot of my stuff from my place."

"It's got to be something that will catch the right kind of attention for this to work."

Frankie seemed to understand before she skirted off into the apartment to dig through her things and Mac laid out her plan to Mario on how they were going to boost a set of temporary wheels. It was fairly simple really, Mac knew she could attract the right kind of car and driver just out of habit and with the right clothes. If she was able to get into the car under her false pretenses and was carrying her pistol she could likely strong arm the driver out of the driver's seat half a block up the road where Mario would be waiting to switch places with the driver as well as with extra firepower.

[grendel]

21:49:16 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 5080 Unit E, 111th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

"Whew, that's cold." Mario shook his head. "Needs must, though, when the Devil drives."

Mac nodded grimly, pausing on her way out the door as she followed Frankie towards the bedroom. "It's going to be this way. I don't have time for niceties, the margin's too slim."

"No argument, sister. Jungle rules." Mario flashed her a toothy grin, which she matched, before taking a breath and stepping back into a doorway she'd hoped had closed forever.

Twenty minutes later, she stood eyeing herself critically in the mirror. A shower did wonders for her, although livid bruises still covered most of her right side. There was no salvaging the hair, though. Together, Mac and Frankie had cut out the damaged portions before shaping the rest into some semblance of style. She ended up with a spiky, uneven pixie cut that mashed up into a decent faux hawk with enough gel. Smeary smokey eye and harsh red lips would draw attention away from the wreckage strewn across her body. The black leather half-jacket had full sleeves, so at least her arm was covered. The corset top was red satin, and created a simsense starlet's amount of cleavage, while the tight black miniskirt showed off her legs as well as the fishnet stockings and garters. And although the boots had wedge heels in a nod to required traction, they were a second skin of leather and chrome.

On your holster there are two screws, one at the top, one at the bottom. Loosen both, and adjust the cant of the holster to fifty degrees. That will fit better when you're carrying it in the small of your back.

Mac nodded wordlessly, suppressing a tremor as Kovacs answered the question she'd been avoiding. Finding the two screws, she made the adjustment he recommended, clipping the weapon in place on the back of her skirt. The polymer butt of the pistol warmed quickly to her body, but the slide remained a cold finger along her spine. She checked the fit and ride, twisting to make sure that the pistol didn't print against the jacket. Bending at the waist, she arched her back, testing out her range of motion.

Mother of god, muttered Kovacs, a husky tone to his electronic voice.

[Vegas]

22:09:46 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 5080 Unit E, 111th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

Should I take it that you approve? her own thought but a purr in her head as a sly smile curved her dark red lips. Mac's retort came out of habit, slipping back into her street persona with far too much ease but all the turmoil of how much her situation had changed in such a short amount of time.

Her smile fell from her lips as she remembered the last time she donned clothes like these. What she had been willing to do to get what the team had needed and how Kovacs had been there in the end. This time he wouldn't be there, and wouldn't be watching over her. Her thoughts faltered her courage in that instant before she forced herself to build her walls back up and pushed herself into detachment mode, stalling for a bit of time while she got her head on straight by unnecessarily adjusting the ride of her holster at the small of her back.

Finally, Mac glanced between Frankie, who was already wringing her hands with worry, and Mario her gaze resting on the Ork, her voice was laced with a cold confidence she didn't quite feel.

"Ready to do this?"

"Born ready." Quipped Mario.

After a round of hugs and insuring Frankie had an additional weapon to defend herself if necessary, Mac and Mario made their way down to the streets below, recon firming the plan for gaining wheels and touching on what would come next.

"Once we are mobile, what's your play? Straight to your friends at the docks for info, or shall we pick up a bit more firepower as a just in case?"

[grendel]

22:09:46 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 111th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

Mario opened his mouth to reply, stepping carefully through the thin layer of snow that lingered on the sidewalk. Mac beat him to it, though, as the cold seeped through the thin layers of her outfit.

"Actually, we're gonna need to stop off for some gear first. I don't wanna meet up with anyone looking like this. They might get the wrong idea."

The ork nodded. "Figured that was the best plan."

The two walked on in silence, skirting the burned out wreckage of a Ford Workhorse strewn across the sidewalk. The engine compartment of the truck still rested inside the storefront it had crashed into. Mario shook his head.

"Craziness," he muttered. Mac silently agreed, her hands jammed into the pockets of her jacket to try and keep them somewhat warm. The cold went a long way to settling her nerves, the discomfort pushing the thoughts and questions and regrets from her mind, forcing her to focus on only the next step in their plan. She guided them down and across a couple of blocks, her knowledge of the shopping grounds supplying her with the closest, most frequented side streets. Traffic slowly increased as they moved deeper into the city, at times approaching its pre-event levels. After a moment, she motioned Mario ahead of her. He nodded.

"Alleyway, two blocks up?"

She knew the turn, but it was a dead end. "Make it three, that one cuts all the way through."

He grinned. "Good luck!"

"Just make sure you're ready," she replied, turning towards the street. She heard him move off, waiting for a minute before loosening up her jacket. Rolling her shoulders back, she strutted along the curb, moving in a familiar idle walk. Several cars drove past before a van slowed. She turned away, closing herself off and the driver pulled away. She continued to walk. A new model Saab purred down the street, drawing slowly even with her, the passenger side window rolling down. Mac accepted the invitation, bending at the waist but keeping her shoulders back, her tits spilling out of the corset top with deliberate effect. The thin face illuminated by the instrument cluster was hawkish and unpleasant, the tan skin almost unnaturally smooth, the result of a cheap Leonization treatment. His smile did not help the look, thin lips revealing bold, gleaming white teeth. He was wearing a Tres Chic power suit, sharkskin blue from the look of it, with subtle, gleaming pinstripes. There was a shiny patch on his lapel where he'd removed the corporate signet he usually wore there.

"Hey, sugar," Mac dressed her face in a smile. "Gotta smoke?"

The suit grinned wider, and she let her eyes wander around the interior of the car, trying to threat assess. "Not on me, but I could give you a lift? There's a Stuffer Shack up the road that sells 'em."

Take this one, said Kovacs. But be careful, that's a platinum Doc Wagon bracelet on his wrist.

"All right," said Mac, answering both men simultaneously. The door lock popped, and she slid into the passenger seat, making sure that her miniskirt rode up almost to her hip joint. The suit's eyes stared hungrily at the contrast of pale flesh and black leather as he put the Saab into gear.

[Vegas]

22:31:19 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 111th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

Mac settled into the passenger seat, employing all of her skills in the art of the con to disarm her mark as he waited to pull back into traffic. She angled her body towards him, feigning her "attraction" to him as much as to hide the worst of her bruises and lacerations in the shadows inside the car.

"So, how am I going to thank you for the eventual smoke?" She purred across the console as her John pulled smoothly into a break in traffic.

She watched as his eyes moved away from out the front window and made no attempt to hide the obvious eye-fragging as his gaze dropped from her face and raked down her body, lingering on the dark bands of lace at the tops of her stockings and the thin straps of her garters that disappeared beneath the barely-there miniskirt that left little to his imagination.

"I'm sure those glossy red lips of yours can come up with something." He tried to come off suave but managed to come off like the sleeze he probably was both in and out of bed.

Disgust flashed in her eyes for an instant before she reigned in her true feelings about the creep beside her and a slow, sly smile pulled the corners of her patent red lips as she focused on the task at hand and just how she was going to liberate this prick from his cherry wheels. She shot him a knowing look and as she shifted in the seat, silently wishing she would have practiced the draw of her weapon from the small of her back a few more times so there wouldn't be any hiccups when she needed it the most.

"Take the next left, and then take another left into the alley halfway down the block."

[grendel]

22:39:40 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – alley way in between 111th St NE and 116th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

"Anything you say, sweetheart," replied the suit, reaching over to run his hand up Mac's leg. It was getting easier to control her reactions, to remember how to move her body and her face to put a customer at ease. She smiled at him, watching his eyes.

"How much is this smoke break gonna cost me, anyway?" he asked, glancing to the street in order to negotiate the turn. Mac took the opportunity to draw her pistol, covering the motion by rotating her hips into his hand, bringing it closer to her crotch. She felt his grip tighten, and his eyes went to where his hand was, and not to the weapon she brought to bear.

"A lot more than you planned," she replied, her voice cold. She lifted his hand and tossed it back to him. "Put 'em both on the wheel, sugar."

"Aw, frag! Frag me!" cursed the suit, his hands now at the six and nine o'clock on the wheel. "You're not a cop. You can't be a cop! Tell me you're not the Star?"

"Nope, not the Star. Just a concerned citizen." Mac gestured with her pistol. "Stop here. Put it in park."

The suit obeyed, and the Saab dutifully unlocked the doors.

"Seatbelt," instructed Mac.

The suit unclipped his belt. "Now what?" he asked. His answer was Mario opening up the drivers' side door and yanking him out into the street. "UHHHRK!"

The ork slammed the door and put the vehicle in drive.

"Please fasten your seatbelt, driver," said the car in a saccharine female voice. Mario jammed down on the accelerator. "Go frag yourself, sweetheart."

[Vegas]

22:41:36 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – alley way in between 111th St NE and 116th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

Mac whipped her head around to look out the back window at the suit who was left sputtering and screaming his anger down the alley as tires squealed against the pavement and Mario shot down the narrow drive.

"That was almost too easy."

She grabbed at the armrest on the passenger door as Mario took the right out of the alley aggressively and let out a sound that sounded like half a laugh and half snort.

"From the looks of his suit and the Doc Wagon contract he was sporting, we won't have long before he reports his car stolen if he hasn't already."

Don't suppose you have any tricks for keeping the car off the Star's radar for a little while?

[grendel]

22:41:36 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – westbound 116th St NE, Redmond, Seattle

You've got to pull the vehicle ID chip. It's under the dashboard by the navigation center. Stay away from Grid Guide. The system will alert on a vehicle that doesn't have an ID chip. The Star will pull over a vehicle if it interrogates it and doesn't have an ID chip. You won't have long, either, this is probably a company car and he'll have CorpSec activate its tracker.

Right.

"Drive," said Mac, leaning over into Mario's lap in the driver's seat. "Do it casually. And stay off Grid Guide."

"Uh. Okay."

She fished around underneath the dashboard, jamming her fingers into the seams of the interior panels until she popped loose the one closest to the center console. A handful of OMCs stared back at her. She paused, then yanked them all.

"Frag it."

Systems went dark in the vehicle, and warning signs spangled the dashboard. She sat back in her seat.

"Downtown, via the back streets. Stay off the main roads. There's a self storage place on North 142nd."

"Rollin'," replied Mario.