Living in the Shadows: IC, Jan 8th-14th Options

[grendel]

17:46:19 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Borley Hall, 401 University Avenue , University of Washington : Seattle campus, Downtown, Seattle , UCAS

The kid shakes his head. "Nope, haven't seen him around recently. Or his girl either. You're talking about the sweet looking one with the dark hair, right? She hasn't been around lately. No, I haven't heard anything out of the ordinary, why? How come you're so interested?"

[Donum Moriarty]

17:46:28 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Borley Hall, 401 University Avenue , University of Washington : Seattle campus, Downtown, Seattle , UCAS

Donum listened intently to the young man's replies.

"It's a family thing, my friend. He hasn't been seen in many days, and people are starting to worry," he says with a concerned frown.

"But hey," Donum continues, his face brightening hopefully, "could you help me out maybe? If I give you my contact info, could you maybe give me a shout if you see or hear from him or his girl? There could even be a few nuyen in it for you if any info you provide helps find him?"

Donum digs into his duster pocket and pulls forth an abused-looking business card. He tries his best to keep from blushing as he tries to smooth and straighten the card out, and then offers it to the young man.

"I also provide consulting and tutoring services in Occult Studies and Ancient Latin, as well, if you or any of your friends might be interested," he finishes with a warm smile.

[grendel]

17:46:53 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Borley Hall, 401 University Avenue , University of Washington : Seattle campus, Downtown, Seattle , UCAS

The kid nods, glancing at the card with no real recognition.

"Yeah, sure, call if the girlfriend stops by. No problem, man. See you later."

The door closes in Donum's face.

[Donum Moriarty]

17:58:21 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Borley Hall, 401 University Avenue , University of Washington : Seattle campus, Downtown, Seattle , UCAS

Donum turned on his heel after thanking the last neighbor for their time. All of their responses had been like the first - meaning, not overly helpful or informative.

He bit his lower lip as he made his way back to the stairway he had used to reach this floor. At least going down the stairs would be less strenuous than going up them had been. Thank goodness for small miracles.

"So, what next, genius?" Bob asked as he kept pace with Donum going down the stairs.

"Well, next step would be to find out what we can about our friend on the net," he replied.

"Hmmm, you and computers don't mix very well, Donum. So what's the plan?"

Donum pondered as he rounded the landing between floors 3 and 4. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to bug him, but I guess I might have to pay a visit to Pipe Wrench," he eventually replied.

"Oh.... bad memories there, I see," Bob replied.

Donum grimaced only slightly, past images flaring-up before his eyes, as if they were only yesterday. "Something like that."

A few moments later, he made it to the bottom landing on the main floor. Donum closed his eyes and focused, expending the necessary energy to render himself invisible again. He then waited and watched for someone else to come through the main door, intending to slip out the same way he had slipped in.

[grendel]

18:07:39 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Borley Hall, 401 University Avenue , University of Washington : Seattle campus, Downtown, Seattle , UCAS

It didn't take long for his first opportunity to present itself, the late hour proving to be the prime traffic time for the dorms. Students returning from late afternoon classes or lab periods, or on their way out to grab some food, or head to the library, or various study groups. Timing his exit, Donum slips out amidst a crowd of track suited runners heading down towards one of the many jogging paths that wind their way across the campus. His departure is unnoticed, a simple ghost of the wind skirling down the sidewalk towards his parked car. After that, home. One of the benefits of going to see Pipe Wrench was that Donum didn't have to leave the comforts of his own apartment.

[grendel]

22:51:09 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Casa Bonita Apartments #313, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

"The vehicles match our target," said Bridger's voice, coming through Shard's commlink. The mage nodded, knowing that his partner could read the silent response through his own surveillance, and dropped into astral space.

The world resolved itself into the multispectral hues of mana, a ghostly glow of pastel green and blues surrounding the harsh gray outlines of mundane reality. Orienting himself with respect to the apartment where the surveillance team waited before diving out through the wall closest to the road, Shard's consciousness soared free from the bonds of flesh and bone. The spectral form of his willpower moved with a thought until it stood in the middle of the road, staring at the pair of vehicles hurtling towards him at over a hundred kph. Shard grimaced. If either one of these has a ward up, it's going to be a bad day.

The first vehicle was larger than a sedan, he guessed Towne Car since it wasn't quite large enough to be a limo. It was on him within seconds, and he had time to glance to the left and the right before it was through. No ward, but five passengers inside, one of which was child sized. With a thought he was back in his body, opening his eyes in the gloom of the darkened room, a thin smile forming on his lips. He keyed the mic on his comm.

"Target vehicles approaching, the child is in the lead vehicle." A double mic click answered his transmission, and he rolled to his feet, headed towards the door at a run. He would have to hurry to get to his support position.

In essence, the team was setting up an L-shaped ambush, with the short leg of the L parallel to the airport access road. The long leg stretched across the road, and was anchored on either side by gun positions. Or, rather, by single gunners. Dragon was on the far side of the road, solo because he was the most capable. Erebus and Sybersnake waited on the opposite side, along with one of Bridger's drones, they would anchor the ambush. Dragon would be the jaws of the trap.

Dragon watched as the vehicles, a Lincoln Towne Car and a GMC MPUV, made the turn onto the airport access road. His viewpoint was from overhead, a remote feed from one of Bridger's surveillance drones. He, himself, was completely hull down in the ditch, concealed by a thin tarp sewn through with strips of gray, green, and brown burlap. The field expedient ghillie suit had taken only a couple of hours to construct, and had helped kill the time while waiting for Martinez to show up. The waiting always chewed him up inside, nervous energy careening through the network of fiber optics lining his spinal cord, making his skin crawl and his fingers twitch. Now, though, with action imminent, the world settled into the glassy calm he associated with combat, when everything took on a sheen of perfect detail as adrenaline accelerated the survival centers of his brain. With difficulty, he could just make out the small clump of trash on the side of the road half a second before the lead vehicle came abreast of it. He lunged up out of the ditch.

The world resolved itself in slow-motion detail the way it always did when Dragon transferred from remote viewing to his own eyes on target. The Towne Car was a gloss black, bearing Aztechnology corporate plates. The windows were mirrored, throwing back a crazed reflection of the brightly lit airport buildings on the right hand side of the street. The MPUV behind it was a dark metallic gray, also with Aztechnology plates and mirrored windows. Someone inside was way too quick, because the vehicle was already swerving towards him. It would be too little, too late. His finger tightened on the trigger of the Ares Alpha just as the Towne Car triggered the nutcracker.

Initially, Dragon hadn't wanted to utilize any company weaponry, but when it came right down to it, neither he nor Erebus, nor their two hired associates had the firepower to reliably stop one, let alone two vehicles. So he'd requisitioned an equalizer from the armory. The mercs had developed it in response to a need for a rapid breaching tool that could penetrate a hardened bunker. Essentially a flattened plastic cube, forty centimeters long by twenty centimeters high and twenty centimeters deep, inside were two kilos of plastic explosive, packed in a shallow arc behind a thin dish of copper. When the charge detonated, it blew the copper lining free as an explosively formed penetrator, a dart of high energy molten metal that could slice through nearly half a meter of reinforced concrete. The field crews nicknamed them nutcrackers.

The detector was thermal based, with a ten degree forward cant. It triggered off the engine heat from the Towne Car, just before the vehicle's wheels were abeam the explosive. The penetrator ripped through the thin armor of the vehicle, shearing off the engine compartment just before the firewall. The Towne Car fishtailed violently, coming to a rapid halt.

Bridger's lone combat drone, a Doberman, unloaded simultaneously, its Ingram White Knight punching holes through the windshield of the MPUV. Dragon's finger took up the last of the slack on the trigger of his Alpha, and the underbarrel grenade launcher chugged. The round already had the range to target via the weapon's cybernetic link, but the motion of the MPUV carried it a meter closer in the intervening time. Dragon had been counting on the disparity, though, as the wire-wrapped anti-personnel projectile punched through the damaged windshield of the MPUV, detonating once inside the passenger compartment. All the windows of the MPUV exploded outwards in a shower of glass and flechette fragments. The vehicle slewed to the side, tracking towards the ditch. Dragon had already switched targets, though. His finger once again took up the slack on the trigger, even as he switched weapon modes through his smartlink interface. The numeral 42 glowed to life in the upper right hand corner of his vision, then counted down to 39 as he ripped out a three round burst at the first person to come tumbling out of the Towne Car.

To his left, he could see Erebus on his feet, moving forward towards the car, his borrowed Mossberg shouldered. The shotgun thundered twice, solid slugs blazing downrange. The Exec Sec squad Martinez had selected was good, three of the four were out of the Towne Car, and two were even crawling from the smoldering wreckage of the MPUV. Dragon hammered out another pair of three round bursts, the faint glow of the smartlink crosshairs holding on the exposed shoulder of the bodyguard taking cover behind the rear driver's side door. Glass exploded outwards beneath the impact of the E-X Explosive rounds, the guard pitching backwards to sprawl motionless on the ground. Return fire crackled through the air around him, a line of fire scoring across the back of his shoulders. He pivoted as he ran, switching targets even though his primary target was still unsecured. They had hoped to neutralize the MPUV with a quick shot, but the Exec Sec team was proving to be more robust. Damn Azzies.

Gunfire snarled, the heavy hammer of Erebus' Mossberg mixed in with the lighter staccato of submachinegun fire. Dragon stitched nine rounds through the broken windshield of the MPUV, the last of the burst catching one of the Azzie guards as he stood back up to fire, blowing off the top of his head. Another guard slipped around the edge of the vehicle, the muzzle of his Alpha swinging to bear. Dragon twisted desperately, trying to draw a bead on the target. Shard lurched onto the street, Colt Manhunter held in his hand and concentration written on his face. The Azzie guard crumpled face first onto the ground. A burst of submachinegun fire from the Towne Car kicked Shard to the ground, he grunted in pain, rolling into the ditch. Bridger's drone fired beneath the car, the heavy LMG rounds blasting through the ankles of the Azzie sheltering behind the vehicle, then coring through his body as he toppled to the ground in pain.

"Roberto!" screamed Sybersnake. Dragon lunged forward, using his mass to check the slim decker to the ground. Martinez rose up from behind the passenger door, the Ares Predator in his hand blazing away. The heavy 10mm rounds slammed into Dragon, sending him to his knees in a blaze of pain. Erebus laid his shotgun across the roof of the car and blew Martinez's head off.

"Time to go," hissed Dragon through clenched teeth, rising despite the jagged pain of his cracked ribs. Sybersnake already had her son in her arms, and responded to his point. The cars were fifty meters to the west, across a narrow stretch of grass and trees to the parallel access road. The Doberman trundled down into the ditch and up the opposite bank as he glanced to the side of the road where the ruins of the MPUV sustained a sluggish fire. Erebus jogged past, shotgun held under his right arm. His left arm dangled loose, bicep mangled from gunfire. Shard was right behind him, moving well for a man who'd taken two rounds center of mass.

Dragon closed the rear of the group, emerging from the underbrush to see Sybersnake leaning over her son in the backseat of Erebus' car. Shard was gripping the elf's arm in what must have been a painful grip, but only relief showed on Erebus' face. As Dragon watched, the wound on his friend's arm closed of its own accord, only a brutal purplish bruise remaining. Erebus dropped the shotgun into the open trunk, moving around to the driver's seat. The slim mage turned at the samurai's approach.

"The boy's okay, I already checked him."

Dragon nodded, fishing out a pair of credsticks from his pocket, handing them over.

"You and Bridger did a good job."

Shard pocketed the payment, then laid his hand on Dragon's shoulder.

"Job's not over yet."

Dragon immediately felt the unnatural warmth that he associated with magical healing, struggling not to clench his teeth as he felt the broken bones knit together of their own accord. As Shard finished, Bridger's van rolled up, drones recovered and stowed away.

"Thanks," replied Dragon, unclipping his Ares Alpha from its assault sling so he could stow it in the trunk of the car. "Good luck."

"Watch your back, friends," replied Bridger, nodding once before the van accelerated into the night. Moments later, Erebus' car disappeared in the opposite direction.

[Donum Moriarty]

18:57:19 Monday, 08 January 2063 - 2112 Acacia Ave, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

Donum eased his vehicle back into its lair behind the apartment building in which he lived. He removed the key and silently waited as the engine turned a few more times, and finally sputtered to a halt. He exited the vehicle and closed the door as quietly as he could, then carefully took a few pieces of debris that perpetually decorated the back lot, and used them to cover parts of the vehicle as best he could. One thing Donum learned over time was that the junkier your ride looked, the less interesting it was to car-jackers and vandals.

At least, that was the theory.

Donum walked around the side of the building toward the front, peeking around the final corner to see if his land-lady was sitting on her doorstep waiting for him. He didn't expect her to be outside at this hour, but one never knew. He even considered using another Invisibility spell to stealth his way inside, but laughed at the thought of sneaking into his own home.

He entered his apartment and shut and locked the door behind him. He removed his hat and hung it on one of the hooks on his coat-rack, and did the same with his duster. He went to his kitchenette and fetched a drink.

He knew he was stalling. He knew Pipe Wrench would be his next logical step - someone with the net skills to see what could be discovered about his client.

"Just get on the commlink and call him," Bob finally said.

"I think that's a record - you went an entire hour without saying something," Donum quipped.

Bob rolled his eyes (if a dog could roll its eyes), and responded, "Just call him already. Bad memories aside, he's the next logical step."

Donum sighed. "Pipe's an ok guy. It's not like we haven't kept in touch or anything, 'cause we have. It's just...."

"It's just that you fear he blames you, even though he's never said as much," Bob finished.

Donum nodded somberly, old memories and feelings clouding his mind. He sighed again, and walked into his 'den' (the other half of his kitchen) and fetched the commlink from his desk.

"Are you still using that old thing from the 20th century?" Bob asked.

Donum chuckled, "Come on, Bob. It ain't that old... besides, rent comes first, food second, then I can start worrying about a new commlink."

"That's what you said last week... last month... last year," Bob drolled.

Donum chose not to respond, and instead focused on the device. As he powered it on, it let out a long squeal of static, and then powered itself off again.

"You've got to be ki...." Donum began, but a second later, the device powered back on. Donum sighed again, this time in relief. He felt a sense of urgency as he entered in the data necessary to contact his old friend - and co-runner.

Who knows? Maybe if he was lucky, Pipe Wrench wouldn't even be home...

[grendel]

18:57:44 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Seattle LTG

For good or ill, in this day and age, you didn't have to be home to be connected to the grid. Nevertheless, the call connecting icon blinks long enough that Donum almost thinks it's the voicemail system when it finally connects. The cold, synthetic voice on the line, though, quickly disabuses him of that thought.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my old friend Moriarty. To what can I attribute this happy occasion?"

[Donum Moriarty]

18:58:07 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Seattle LTG

Donum hesitated, hearing his old comrade's voice on the other end.

"Try not to sound too desperate!" Bob urgently whispered - as if anyone but Donum could hear him anyway.

"Hey there, PW. Long time no chat. I know you're usually pretty busy and all, so I'll get to the point so I don't take up too much of your time. I'm looking for some info on someone who has gone missing, and while I could certainly search the grid myself - you're far faster, more efficient, and, um, able to see things I can't. As you know, I never was too handy with tech."

Mentally cursing himself for rambling, he finishes, trying to sound as casual as possible. "I've got some data on the guy and can upload it to you - if you're interested. I'd be willing to toss, say, 10% of my finder's fee your way if any info you can provide proves useful."

He then waits for Pipe's response.

[bclements]

02:14:44 Thursday, 11 January 2063-Corner of E. Denny and Broadway, Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

“Fully invested?� Rod breathed wearily, looking down and balancing his forehead on the heel of his left hand. “I’ve got my former team spying on me, I owe enough money to get killed for to people that will kill people for owing them money,� he said in his nasal-twang, ticking off reasons on his right hand “,and I’ve sold out my former team in order to pay said people. Yeah, you could say I’m fully invested. I'm still not sure why you're invested, but whatever reasons you've got, thanks for getting my hoop out of there.�

Rod brought his head back to level with Leo and taking a slug of standard-issue McHugh’s soycaf, he continued, “Yeah, I’ve got some ways to move that container. The yard’s not got a good magical setup, but if they get someone I should be able to hold them off or drive them off long enough to get in and get out. We probably do need to get in there and get going; you’re right that Isir is probably going to move up their timeline if he can find another mojo-man,� He finished, seeming more comfortable saying what he could do.

“I’ll help as much as I can with the truck, just give me a little bit a’ warning. I’m not the flashiest magic-guy out there,� he finished, taking another hit of the soycaf.

[grendel]

18:58:38 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Seattle LTG

"Ten percent you say? All right, normally I charge at least fifteen, but since you're a friend, I'll help you out. Send me what you've got."

It's hard to tell from Pipe Wrench's tone of voice, but Donum can almost hear a conciliatory tone rather than the usual sarcasm.

[Donum Moriarty]

18:58:45 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Seattle LTG

Donum kept his relief silent, but he couldn't help but smile.

"Thanks PW. Forwarding the info.... now," he said, as he touched a few keys on his PDA. He silently prayed that the aging device would upload the data correctly.

"You'll ring me once you've found anything?"

[grendel]

18:58:45 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Seattle LTG

"Yeah, I've got it. Twenty four hours." Pipe Wrench kills the call.

"I think he might still have some hard feelings," said Bob, yawning cavernously before laying down on his belly.

"Yeah," agreed Donum with a sigh.

[Cthulhu449]

02:14:44 Thursday, 11 January 2063-Corner of E. Denny and Broadway, Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

“Good, good, this can work then. We shouldn’t waste any more time.�

They walked out the front of the McHugh’s and to the car, Roderick sliding into the driver’s seat while Leo moved around to the back.

“Pop the trunk for a moment,� he told the mage; he was answered moments later by a hollow thunk, the top of the rear compartment rising a few centimeters. Leo opened it the rest of the way, taking a wry assessment of the items residing inside.

“About what I expected,� he said, picking up a crinkled Atlantean Foundation pamphlet from the back as Roderick joined the inspection, engine still idling.

“Hey, don’t sneer, that stuff is the real deal,� Roderick said, mistaking the Russian’s facial expression as he snatched the digital paper away, “there’s good magical research going on, not just trid shows and puff pieces.�

Leo nodded thoughtfully, “I know. They had a dig in Ukraine, isolated, high security. The research was very real, very angry.�

“Uh, yeah,sure. Well most people have just played the sims or chipped the action dramas and assume it’s all drek.�

Leo shrugged and slammed the trunk shut, feeling the need to brush his hands against his pants after only a brief foray inside, “Just seeing what else we have to use. That dust cover should be useful, your car is recognizable otherwise, the rest, not so sure.�

“Hey you never know what might be useful, that’s why I keep all that stuff back there,� Roderick called over his shoulder as he jumped back behind the wheel and closed the door behind him. Leo decided not to question the statement, satisfied that at least a modicum of the other man’s bravado had returned, hopefully in preparation for possible trouble ahead. He opened the passenger door and sunk into his own seat.

“Port of Tacoma Road, right?� he asked as Roderick jiggled the gear shift, slapping it between thumb and pinkie.

“Yeah, there are some unused buildings near the intersection at Eleventh, plenty of obstructions, places to keep an eye out,�

The car backed out of the parking spot with a gurgling, base roar. Leo simply gave a quick point forward, a dismissive flick of the wrist, and the car leapt to speed, tossing slush as it merged into the light afternoon traffic.

03:46:44 Thursday, 11 January 2063-Corner of 11th and Port of Tacoma Road

They parked the car in an unused lot, across from the docks and shielded from view by a line of corrugated, plasteel ISO containers. With the dust cover on, the Z-M looked all the part of an abandoned vehicle, left to rust by a previous owner. Leo chose a spot that offered as panoramic a view as possible while still well hidden, between two of the metal crates that had another crate stacked across the top spanning them to block visual coverage from the sky. It was not ideal by any stretch, but they would be undisturbed by any casual observers at the very least.

“Get comfortable,� he told Roderick, while mentally toning down the temperature receptors and restlessness simulators in his limbs, “we might be here a while.

[Morgannah]

21:15:07 Friday 13 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

"Tino."

Cosmo's voice, low and warm, held all the affection of a lifelong friend and belied the fact that they had known one another for less than a week. Even to her trained ears there was no trace of deception; if it was a bad time to call then her contact would find some way to let her know and they could end the conversation with none the wiser.

She took a moment to glance around her little kitchen, only lamenting the lack of real food for a moment before easing herself up to sit on the spotless countertop, a large bowl propped on one knee.

[grendel]

21:15:41 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

"Bellissima, signora, how good it is to hear from you again." Tino's voice echoes the warmth Cosmo has infused into her own. In the background she can hear the diffuse noise of Il Grano, the sussuruss of conversation broken by the ringing of flatware against fine porcelain. The sounds brought unbidden memories, images that clouded her resolve and she pushed them away with difficulty, smiling instead at her thought of the suave Italian fixer seated in his booth next to Magdalena.

"I need some help."

Tino chuckled. "Ah, signora, if only all of the calls for help came from beautiful young women. I might end up being more of a philanthropist. How may I be of help?"

[Morgannah]

21:16:22 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

"It should be simple enough - I'm looking for a car, a trustworthy driver, and an actress that would not be averse to an hour's shopping tomorrow afternoon."

Cosmo smiled into her bowl of noodles, absently poking at the twisted strands with a pair of disposable chopsticks. Ah, but she'd do a lot for a bottle of good wine just now, even if she would have to drink from a plastic cup.

"Can we do business, signore?"

[grendel]

21:17:08 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

"Hmmm. For an hour? Eight hundred nuyen. Plus whatever stipend you're willing to allot for your actress."

In the background, Cosmo can hear the clicking of keys as Tino coordinates her request.

[Morgannah]

21:17:51 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

Thinking back to the last truly spectacular pair of shoes she'd owned, she repiled almost immediately. If she couldn't indulge .. then at least she'd be able to shop vicariously through another.

"Eight hundred for expenses. I'll also need a clear spot to set up before the excursion."

[grendel]

21:18:12 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

"We have an accord. If you know of a place, I can have the limo meet you there. Or you could wait for it in the parking garage of your apartment. Which would be more suitable for your needs?"

[Morgannah]

21:19:45 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

"3620 Marathon, 12:30 tomorrow. Have your driver pull in, park for five minutes, and then proceed to Westfield Center. Our actress will have approximately forty five minutes to shop while the limousine waits with the other cars in the designated underground parking lot. A drop off to the same location will be necessary as well, signore."

[grendel]

21:20:18 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

"I will pass your instructions along to the driver. Buena sera, signora."

Dead air replaces the warmth of Tino's voice on the line. Cosmo sighs, successfully resisting the urge to pace the length of the small room once more. She settled for a simple stretch, reaching her arms above her, rotating her palms out, and inhaling deeply. She'd waited here long enough, soon would come the time for action. And then, finally, perhaps the answers.

[Morgannah]

She watched him as he stood against the glass doors of the balcony, moonlight silvering his skin. Despite the shadows, she could clearly see the lines and puckers of his scars, the badges of a lifetime lived in warfare. His gaze was distant, somewhere out beyond the horizon, beyond the sodium orange clouds which hovered over the city. She rose quietly, padding across the room to stand beside him.

'You can tell me,' she wanted to say. 'Whatever it is - whatever I can do. Just tell me.'

She stood beside him instead, her body soft and warm, offering the sort of quiet comfort he needed .. for the moment.

09:09:55 Saturday, 13 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo groaned loudly, her hand groping sightlessly for the alarm clock that should have been well within reach. No music for her, she couldn't bring herself to listen to anything even remotely enjoyable first thing; the blaring siren next to her bed suited her mood perfectly. Most mornings.

However gratifying it was to slap the alarm to silence she could only sigh, knowing that she wouldn't be able to revisit the dream. However much she wanted to. Slipping from between 150 thread count sheets to pad barefoot across her cheap tile floor only brought home to her the inadequacy of her situation. Her shower sputtered for a good thirty seconds before the water, cold at first, began to stream over her.

"Almost done."

...

Her kit was laid out. It wasn't much, but then the job didn't require much. Dark clothes, gloves and a hood. A bag that would be strapped against her stomach contained her tools along with half a dozen flexible rubber tiedowns. Her fingers trailed across these for a moment before she pulled the zipper home, drew her hood forward, and locked the door behind her.

'In and out. Back in two hours.'

[grendel]

12:51:26 Saturday, 13 January 2063 - Eastbound on Caravan Avenue, Los Angeles, CFS

The rendezvous with her rented limousine had gone as smooth as hoped for, the vehicle pausing long enough for Cosmo to roll beneath it and secure herself out of sight. The rubber tiedowns held her in place easily, acting to dampen out the worst of the jarring as the limo rolled through the morning traffic. As it was, Cosmo swore that once these jobs came to an end, she would never again face the pavement at sixty kph from only thirty centimeters away. She worried about the ground clearance once they got to the mall, but the edge of the body panel was lower than her (barely), so as long as the limo didn't bottom out, things would work out.

Work out. Right.

Once again, Cosmo smirked at herself and the irrepressible sense of optimism that current events couldn't quite crush. If all of the nightmare feelings before hadn't done it, then neither could HardBitten and his cynical professions of doom. Not even the knowledge of what might be waiting for her after the party at the hotel could steal away that kernel of hope that still burned within her.

She found herself haunted by a vision of eyes as coldly blue as a November sky.

[grendel]

13:19:42 Saturday, 13 January 2063 - Westfield Shopping Center parking garage, 7330 Hazard Court, Los Angeles, CFS

With careful slowness, Cosmo lowered herself to the cool cement floor of the parking garage. Her trojan limousine was parked directly adjacent to the target vehicle, as per her directions. The driver was, in fact, making conversation with the driver of her target. Which was not in her directions, but was a useful kind of initiative from the hired help. She checked left and right for other traffic or surveillance. The parking garage was full of vehicles, thankfully, but foot traffic was low. Most pedestrians were intent on their destinations or returning quickly to their cars to continue the day's errands.

Using skills born of hours on the gymnastics mat, she slithered across the narrow gap between the two vehicles, pushing the case containing the explosives and detonator in front of her. Once there she paused again, senses straining to catch any indication that her movement was observed and that the game was up. Hearing none, she unzipped her tool pouch, laying it open on her stomach, and went to work.