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

[grendel]

10:31:12 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Kovacs dusted off his palms. "Yeah, we should probably get going. You drive."

He tossed the keys of the Land Rover to Mac, closing the lift gate on his way around the back of the truck towards the passenger seat.

"Sandwich," came the reply to Mac's other question. Tristan was in the far corner of the warehouse doing something on the wall. "Warm. Chips. Lots of chips."

"Yeah, roger," Kovacs called back, standing on the truck's running board. "We'll be back in an hour."

[Vegas]

10:39:57 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac shook her head as she grabbed the keys from the air and made her way towards the driver’s seat. Her mind already processing a laundry list of items from her apartment she wanted to grab.

An hour doesn’t leave me a lot of time to pack.

She carefully backed the truck out of the warehouse, waiting until the door went back down before she navigated her way back to the I-5 to take them back into downtown. She drove in silence, noticing it’s not quite as comfortable as it had been in the past as her mind was occupied with what laid ahead of them as well as being consciously aware of their surroundings as she pushed them further north.

11:16:41 Friday 12 January 2063 - 2356 E. Valley St., Apartment 423, Downtown, Seattle

Mac's apartment building looked worse from the outside in the grey half-light of day as the sun struggled to break through the pollution and clouds and the light falling snow tried to cover the gritty, broken neighborhood in something that seemed deceptively more pure.

By the time they reached the fourth floor and she had unlocked the door and looked around at what she had called home for the last couple of years, she just wanted to grab the few things she had wanted to come back here for and get out. Slipping inside the apartment she let Kovacs step inside before she habitually locked it up behind them. Her eyes scanned over the interior of the room, looking to make sure certain items hadn't been touched. Content when she saw a couple of specific items still on her bookshelves, she turned back to face Kovacs.

"I'll try to be quick."

Mac kneeled on the floor beside her bed, her hands reaching along the bed frame until her fingers wrapped around the item she was hunting for. Pulling the Remington out she was quick to eject all the cartridges completely before she pulled out the boxes of extra rounds from deeper beneath her bed. She set everything on top of the comforter, moving on to the next items on her mental checklist of what would be worth grabbing, and what she needed to have to start over somewhere else if the drek hit the fan.

Her eyes landed on a medium teal faux-snakeskin covered box tucked beneath other tchotchkes crammed on a small set of built-in shelves next to the door to the bathroom and she held her breath as she walked over to it. It contained her potential bankroll for her contingency plan if necessary. Pulling it out and lifting the lid she was grateful to see its contents intact. Her fingers danced over the various chips and BTL’s, the hits of eX, Bliss and her coveted Long Haul. She exhaled slowly, her next breath in was shallow and almost stuttered as the urge to “escape” threatened to suddenly overwhelm her. If her situation had been different, she wouldn’t have hesitated to pop a hit of eX or slot a chip, but with Kovacs watching over her and a list of things to do that could mean life or death for not only her but the team ahead of her…A reminder that popping eX was the catalyst to get her where she was caused her to snap the lid of the box closed hard and shove it deep into her bag to be out of sight, and hopefully out of mind for the time being.

She grabbed odds and ends of clothing and gear from piles around the apartment, some hidden spaces and obvious locations.

With the last few minutes before they needed to leave, Mac made a perimeter sweep around the apartment with a chair trailing her, pulling down the almost invisible motion sensors in each corner of the room along with the pair that guarded the door specifically and stashed them carefully in her bag, wrapped in some of her clothing for protection.

“That should do it.”

She hefted the bag over her shoulder and gestured towards the door, letting Kovacs lead the way out into the hallway as she took one last look around the space one more time before she shut and locked the door behind them.

As Mac stepped back outside and onto the street, she was relieved to see Wally's cart had returned to its usual spot. He was hunkered down beside it, his weathered face and dirty beard tucked into the top of his ripped coat trying to ward off the chill and the falling snow.

She walked over to him and kneeled down on the cracked and snowy sidewalk, setting her bag beside her. The smile that touched her lips was genuine as she had a soft spot for the old man who had watched out for her for so many years.

"Hey Beer Man."

The old man looked up and flashed Mac a smile full of broken yellow teeth.

"Hello Miz Turner! You haven't been around much lately. Been spending time with your friend over there?" The old man's smile faded a little as he looked Kovacs over warily.

She laughed softly at Wally's silent chiding over her choices of company.

"It's ok Wally, he's good to me." Mac cast a glance over her shoulder back towards Kovacs before turning back to Wally surprised to find it hard to find the words that she needed to say. Swallowing hard she tried to forget he knot in her stomach.

"I'm not going to be around much for a little while Wally, and I need a favor." She pulled the keys to her apartment from her pocket and pressed them into the old man's hands.

"The rent's paid up for a couple of months, so Spike shouldn't come around to bother you. It's not much, but it's dry and warm and the water's mostly clean. If anyone comes asking about me, tell ‘em the truth. I took a vacation."

She closed her eyes for a moment, knowing it could be the last time she saw Wally, no matter the outcome of what lay ahead of them, she wouldn't be coming back here. She leaned forward and brushed her lips across the scruffy cheek of the old man before she picked up her bag and crossed the distance to Kovacs.

"Can we get out of here. Now." Her voice was edged with steel as she didn't wait for his reply and stepped into the street to cross to the Rover.

[grendel]

11:22:18 Friday 12 January 2063 - 2356 E. Valley St., Apartment 423, Downtown, Seattle

For the entirety of the trip, Kovacs had remained still and silent, the relentless gaze of his cold gray eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. Although much of him remains inscrutable to her, Mac got the impression that his silence was more out of respect for her and what she had to do than anything else. He nods at her request, firing up the truck's heavy diesel while she stashed her bag in the cargo bed. He pauses before pulling out into traffic, the fingers of his left hand swiping through thin air to share a message with her.

Drift's here. Wants a sandwich. Pastrami. -T

"He's irreverent because you're serious all the time." Mac phrased her question like a statement, needing on some level for Kovacs to understand her intuitive ability to evaluate interpersonal dynamics.

"Like it's his mission in life," replied the tall samurai, and she didn't believe for a minute any of the bitterness in his tone.

11:49:27 Friday 12 January 2063 - Central Liquor and Deli, 610 University Heights Rd, Downtown, Seattle

For an out of the way store on a back road in the University district, Mac had to admit that their menu was quite savory. Kovacs had already ordered for himself and the other two back at the warehouse, and was busy rifling through the selection of pretzels and chips for Tristan.

[Vegas]

12:00:04 Friday 12 January 2063 - Central Liquor and Deli, 610 University Heights Rd, Downtown, Seattle

The last thing Mac wanted to do at that moment was eat, she was too busy processing and coming to terms with the way her life had been upended in the last seven days. She ordered a sandwich anyway knowing it was likely they wouldn’t be getting much downtime today once everyone was together. She glanced at Kovacs rifling through the chips and raised a brow.

“We’re grabbing something for Suda I assume?”

Mac responded to his slight nod by making an educated guess, which was nothing more than a stab in the dark really, at what the shaman might like and finished up their order about the same time Kovacs dumped an assorted pile of chips on the counter. It was a short wait before their order was bagged up and the pair were headed back out to the truck.

Once inside Mac stayed quiet, almost a little withdrawn as they drove, perhaps taking after her new mentor a little too well and a little too quickly. There was plenty she wanted to talk about, but packing up her apartment and cutting more ties stung just a little too much at the moment. She popped a piece of gum in her mouth and lost herself in the view out the window for the remainder of the drive.

[grendel]

12:18:51 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

"Good, Drift is here," muttered Kovacs as they turned onto Willow Heights Road. Mac glanced up, pulling herself from her own thoughts to see what triggered his observation. Nothing appeared different to her: no vehicles in the parking lot in front of their warehouse, no change in the dingy gray exterior. She was about to ask him how he knew when a flicker of motion in the sky overhead caught her eye. Squinting, she was just barely able to make out the lines of a Renraku Stormcloud surveillance drone.

As the Land Rover pulled into the parking lot, the large vehicle door scrolled up to admit them entry into the dim interior, now much fuller than when they'd departed. Two of the three vehicles, the Roadmaster and the Shadow, that she first saw at Drift's garage are now parked inside the warehouse. Another sports car, this one a classic Eurocar Westwind, is in the far corner.

"Suda," said Kovacs, tonelessly, in response to Mac's gaze. Through the windshield she could just make out the slim figure of the cat shaman as she scribed something onto the floor of the warehouse. Kovacs killed the engine, and slid out of the truck with Mac close behind.

Drift and Tristan were seated in front of a rack of flat panel displays, the ork futzing with a bank of machinery mounted to the underside while the swordsman lounged carelessly, his eyes scanning the feeds. Mac realizes that he was installing surveillance cameras throughout the warehouse, and now the team has eyes on both the interior and exterior of the building. Tristan straightens at their approach, a broad smile on his face.

"Ah, lunch at last!"

[Vegas]

12:25:16 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac carried over the bags of sandwiches, chips and various beverages setting them down a suitable distance from the electronics and yet within view of the monitors. She forced herself to compartmentalize everything she was feeling for the time being and screwed on a slight smile as she handed over the pastrami sandwich to Drift and Tristan dove right into the assortment of chips.

“Hey Drift.”

She grabbed a bottle of water and her sandwich, skipping the chips to leave more for Tristan and moved herself out of the way so she could pick at the insides of her sandwich, her appetite long gone.

Mac glanced up on occasion to catch Kovacs looking at her. She could practically feel the internal struggle where he was concerned yet wanted to give her the space she needed to deal with all that was changing in her life. For that she was grateful that he was letting her deal with it on her own terms and in her own way, besides she wasn’t exactly the type to dump her emotional baggage on people anyway. She pulled herself out of her headspace just about the time Suda had sauntered up to the rest of the team.

[grendel]

12:49:04 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

"Hey! How's it going?" Drift flashed a toothy smile at Mac before biting into his sandwich. Tristan was already halfway through his, a bag of corn chips open on his lap. He used one as a pointer to gesture towards one of the viewscreens. Drift mumbled something through a full mouth, then poked at one of the system boxes with thick fingers. Mac wasn't quite sure what the adjustment was, but apparently it satisfied Tristan, who nodded happily. Neither one of the men paid any attention to Suda's approach, the cat shaman picking over the selection of food with a slight moue of distaste. She finally settled on half of the sandwich Mac had picked for her. Glancing up, she caught Mac's eyes on her, and offered a friendly smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"How long?" asked Kovacs, before either woman could say anything.

"At least six hours," replied Suda, carefully unwrapping her meal and taking a dainty bite. "Thank you for lunch."

The tall samurai nodded. "I need to go see Zeyda and Tristan and Mac are going to see Demetria. Do you need anything?"

She tilted her head to the side, running down a mental inventory. "Nope, think I have everything I need. We could use a cappuccino machine, though."

Kovacs ignored her, turning to Mac. "I'm taking the truck, you and Tristan can use Drift's wheels. Don't let him eat all those chips. I'll be back in an hour."

[Vegas]

12:56:23 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac nodded as Kovacs went over the game plan. She quickly set down her sandwich and headed over to the passenger side of the truck to pull her bag from the bench seat and hoisted it over her shoulder as Kovacs climbed into the driver's side.

"I know it's a given but watch your back and come back safe. Ok?" A rueful smile touched her lips as she closed the door and watched him back the truck out of the warehouse once again.

Mac rejoined the rest of the team and shook her head at Tristan who was well into his third bag of chips, the carcasses of the other bags strewn on the floor at his feet.

"Let me go drop this and whenever you're ready to head out to see Demetria I'm game."

She shifted the weight of the bag on her shoulder and started back towards the cots to drop the things from her apartment with what little she had from Kovacs' and cast a look back over her shoulder at Suda who was still picking at the sandwich Mac had chosen for her.

"If turkey and veggies on wheat is more your style, you're welcome to the other half of mine. I can't finish it anyway."

She shrugged and went to drop her gear, they didn't have to be new best friends and she sure as hell didn't trust the shaman, but she could at least be genuinely cordial towards her until she gave her a reason not to be.

[grendel]

13:04:38 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Suda chuckles. "Most kind, my dear, but not required. This will suit me fine." She headed back across the warehouse floor to where Mac saw her working earlier. Mac watched her for a moment, then turned back to the cot she'd chosen as hers, consolidating and repacking her bags to make better use of the space.

The rustle of chips interrupted her after a few minutes, though, and she looked up to see Tristan munching away.

"I got the keys from Drift, you ready?"

She shook her head. "Yes, but if you're going to keep eating, at least let me drive."

He shrugged. "If you insist."

Mac grinned gleefully, snatching the keys from his hand and bounding towards the sports car. Drift glanced over at her from where he sat at the monitoring station.

"Watch yourself. The suspension is aggressive and the engine is race-tuned. Keep a tight rein on her."

"I'll be home by midnight, dad," replied Mac, sliding into the bucket seat and strapping on the five point harness. Drift shook his head. The Shadow's engine snarled to life with a bone-rattling rumble, the instrument cluster glowing ready. Mac adjusted the mirrors, then worked the clutch. Indicators snapped to life on the console as she overrode the system's electronic controls. It took her a moment to find the shifter, though, as she'd never driven a vehicle with paddle shifters on the steering wheel. Backing slowly, she cranked the wheel over and peeled out of the open door.

[Vegas]

13:11:17 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

The rush of being behind the wheel of the sports car was just the kind of therapy Mac needed at that very moment, a gleeful smile on her face as she got comfortable with the power of the car on the roads. She kept her attention on the streets in front of her as she worked their way out of the warehouse complex and back onto the main roads.

“So are you going to tell me where we’re going, and what’s the deal with Demetria? Or do I just get to drive around and enjoy the hell out of this car for a while?”

She turned her smile and charm towards Tristan as he finished up the chips.

“If you get chips all over Drift’s car, you’re detailing it. Not me.”

[grendel]

13:21:42 Friday, 12 January 2063 - northbound I5, Tacoma into Downtown, Seattle

Tristan chuckled. "Don't get your panties in a twist. In the grand scheme of things, some crumbs are the least thing that I could leave behind in Drift's ride. But I'll clean up after myself."

Leaning over, he swiped his hand over the center console. The vehicle's onboard computer recognized the RFID circuitry in the gloves he wore, and associated their input with its system. A holographic interface sprang to life, gleaming pastel in the dim interior of the sports car. Tristan twisted his fingers, manipulating the navigation screen with practiced ease. An icon glowed to life, highlighted in amber. He flicked it towards Mac, and the car's heads-up display morphed as it digested the requested destination and plotted a route.

Mac smiled. She'd been tracking sedately along in the number three lane, waiting for direction and wanting to be positioned in case she needed to make an exit from the freeway. Seeing that their destination lay in Bellevue, she changed lanes, tapping the paddle shifter to drop back into third for more power before feeling the engine top out and shifting back up into fourth. The Shadow's turbine responded with a throaty howl, a low, aggressive thunder that almost seduced her into letting the gas pedal sink to the floor. Luckily, she reined herself back in before the speedometer crested 180 KPH.

"I may have to get it detailed," observed Tristan drily, "but you're paying for the ticket."

13:49:27 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Cathedral Bookshop and Coffeehouse, 610 132nd Ave NE, Bellevue, Seattle

It wasn't an actual cathedral, of course, but the three story building wasn't something that Mac would have pegged as a bookstore and coffee shop. Another chance for coffee, though, was all good in her book. She parked the Shadow at the corner of the lot and followed Tristan through the front door. The equally intoxicating aromas of rich dark roast and old paper enveloped them as completely as the shadows of the interior. Dim incandescent floor lamps spaced unevenly amongst the floor to ceiling bookshelves were the only illumination. Somehow the bright light of midday barely penetrated the shop. She followed Tristan through a narrow twisting path that led back to the coffee bar, where they both ordered tall steaming mugs of the house blend.

Then it was up the wide winding staircase to the second floor, and to the far side of the atrium which overlooked the busy stacks and tables of the ground floor. Tristan tilted his head, and Mac followed him as he dropped into an overstuffed arm chair across a small table from a pale, delicate looking woman.

The few shafts of sunlight which penetrated the perpetual gloom of the Cathedral struck plum highlights from her long black hair. Her eyes were delicately shaded in the same mix of black and purple, and Mac caught a glimpse of a small tattoo on her left cheek, a dragon twined around an Egyptian ankh. She wore a full length dress with a fitted bodice which showed off the slim curves of her body, adorned with eight sets of ornate silver chains. Tristan propped his feet on the table, slouching in the chair and sipping from his coffee mug. Mac rested lightly on the arm of another chair across the aisle from the two. The woman casually turned the page of the book she was reading, waiting a minute before glancing up to meet Tristan's gaze.

"Come here often?" he said, flashing his brilliant smile.

The woman glanced back to her book. "Tristan Mcallister, you were born trouble and I've come to regret the moment of weakness in which I gave you my phone number."

Tristan's smile turned saucy. "That isn't what you said later that night."

Mac thought she saw a delicate blush stain the woman's cheeks, her chest fluttering beneath the tight bodice of her dress. She speared Tristan with a wintry glare that faded into affection. "And I see your manners haven't improved any."

The swordsman chuckled quietly. "It's good to see you again, Demetria. This is Mac, the newest addition to our band of stalwart heroes."

[Vegas]

13:53:11 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Cathedral Bookshop and Coffeehouse, 610 132nd Ave NE, Bellevue, Seattle

Mac smiled at the woman, rather enjoying the more than casual flirtation between the pair that had Mac’s head spinning off into a less-than-pure direction, positive Tristan would be more than fun in bed. She shook her head as much to clear the thoughts as to the introduction.

“Not so certain about the heroes part, but new addition is true enough.” She inclined her head slightly to the plum-haired woman. “Pleasure to meet you Demetria.”

Mac wrapped both her small hands around the mug of coffee, enjoying the warmth radiating through her fingers almost as much as the coffee itself. She took a long sip, her eyes moving from Demetria to Tristan before scanning the rest of their immediate surroundings. She had no idea why they were here, so she waited on Tristan to either keep flirting or get down to business.

[grendel]

14:04:39 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Cathedral Bookshop and Coffeehouse, 610 132nd Ave NE, Bellevue, Seattle

"Pleased to meet you as well," replied Demetria, tilting her head, her eyes appraising Mac with an interested gaze. After a moment, she turned back to Tristan.

"I'm going to assume that you haven't made the trip all the way out to my small corner of the sprawl just for a stroll down memory lane."

The swordsman shook his head, sliding a file off his network to hers with casual grace. "Actually, yes, but I do need some things so it seemed like an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone."

Demetria opened the file by spreading her fingers, the information appearing in an AR display only she could view. "Flattery will get you nowhere, mister," she murmured as she examined the contents, sparing another wintery glance at Tristan, who winked in response. Turning back to the file, Mac saw one delicately sculpted eyebrow arch.

"Going to war?"

"You know Kovacs. He doesn't like to do things halfway."

"So it would seem," replied the raven haired fixer, all trace of warmth gone from her face. "I've heard some rumors lately of things going on in the shadows, big movements, forces positioning themselves, lots of indicators that something big is going to go down soon. This related?"

Tristan shook his head. "Maybe, but I don't think so. Kovacs is working a job for a guy named deMedici, no specifics yet, but it was a blackmail pressure setup. He's planning on burning the whole thing to the ground."

Demetria nodded. "I have to poll my supply chain for pricing, it'll take about six hours. How soon do you need the ordnance?"

"Forty eight hours," replied Tristan, "and we're prepared to pay in order to meet the deadline."

The fixer nodded, making annotations to her files. "I'll call you as soon as I have the information."

"Thanks." Tristan left his coffee cup on the table, standing to depart. Mac stood as well, taking a couple of steps before realizing that he wasn't following her. Turning back, she was in time to catch him locked in a passionate kiss with Demetria, the slim fixer's hand cradling the swordsman's face. Breaking the kiss, she pressed her cheek to his and Mac thought she whispered "come back to me."

[Vegas]

14:09:02 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Cathedral Bookshop and Coffeehouse, 610 132nd Ave NE, Bellevue, Seattle

Mac took a few steps further away and turned her back to the pair, feeling like she was intruding on their moment. Biding her time while she waited for Tristan to join her, her fingers danced over the old books on the shelf beside her, enjoying the tactile sensation of the old paper and bindings. She snapped out of her moment of enjoyment when she felt Tristan come up behind her, his moment with Demetria over.

"We good to go?"

Mac fished out the keys to the Shadow from her pocket and dangled them in front of the swordsman.

"You're turn to drive, I don't want to risk that ticket on the way back."

She smiled softly as she let go of the keys into his hand.

[grendel]

14:10:19 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Cathedral Bookshop and Coffeehouse, 610 132nd Ave NE, Bellevue, Seattle

"Guess it's a good thing I finished my chips," shrugged Tristan accepting the keys. Together they descended the stairs and threaded their way through the maze of bookshelves to the exit, stepping out into the chill afternoon air.

Tristan fires up the Shadow, but lets it warm up in idle for a moment, rubbing his hands together. An incoming message shivers on both their commlinks.

Meeting tonight with de Medici @ 1800. Be ready to go by 1700. -K

"As good a time as any," muttered Tristan. He threw the car into gear and accelerated out of the parking lot. "Any stops you need to make before we head back to the warehouse?"

[Vegas]

14:14:52 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Cathedral Bookshop and Coffeehouse, 610 132nd Ave NE, Bellevue, Seattle

Mac chewed her lip as she read the message from Kovacs, not looking forward to seeing de Medici in the flesh so soon after their run-in in the alley the other night. He made her skin crawl and she shivered visibly in the front seat.

"Depends, are we hardwired for matrix connections at the warehouse? If not, I just need to stop at a cafe somewhere and meet a friend to try to dig some dirt from the corporate side in about..." She glanced at the time and when she promised to meet up with Frankie, "45 or so."

She closed her eyes for a second and instantly was back in the alley, remembering the gangers, the bodyguards, the man himself. She paled slightly at the thoughts, once again feeling like more of a liability than an asset to the team. She opened her eyes again and fought the urge to light up a cigarette, opting for another piece of gum instead.

"Other than that, I've got nowhere else to go. You?" She offered Tristan her last piece of gum as the heat from car washed over her, offsetting a little of the chill that gripped her deep inside.

[grendel]

14:20:08 Friday, 12 January 2063 - Westbound HWY 520 headed into Downtown, Seattle

Tristan shook his head. "No hardwired access, but Drift has his dish setup so you'll be secure if you need to dive in. If you'd rather someplace else, though, there's a place I know that will guarantee security and anonymity."

[Vegas]

14:22:39 Friday, 12 January 2063 - Westbound HWY 520 headed into Downtown, Seattle

"Anonymity would be appreciated. Less connections to this and drek I bring to their door if things go sideways the better."

She settled into the scoop of the passenger seat and hoped Frankie either had something or someone they could act on at Yamatetsu, or that she'd be able to help Mac lay out her contingency plans if everything went to drek.

"That is of course, if going there won't step all over any of your plans."

[grendel]

14:23:41 Friday, 12 January 2063 - Westbound HWY 520 headed into Downtown, Seattle

"Nope, my errands are complete!" Tristan put his signal on and careened across four lanes of traffic to take the merge ramp to the I405 southbound. Mac grunted as the acceleration was enough to trip the harness, its webbing yanking her back into the seat. Tristan let them coast through sixty degrees of the turn before accelerating out of it, merging onto the 405 at speed. Just a few more minutes down the road and he was equally aggressive in switching to 90 east. This time he didn't hold the Shadow back, the turbine howling as he wove through traffic with gleeful aggressiveness. Mac was about to voice a warning before she realized the section of highway they were on threaded between Redmond and Renton, an unlikely place for a Lone Star cruiser to be hanging out waiting to catch speeders.

In any case, Tristan slowed to a more sedate speed, taking the NE 166th off ramp before turning towards Redmond. They don't make it very far into the district, though, pulling off into the parking lot next to an abandoned Stuffer Shack on Recott Lane. Tristan killed the engine, scanning the area carefully before stepping out of the vehicle. Mac followed suit, trying to remember what Kovacs had taught her about surveillance and ambushes. Together they walked down the alleyway behind the Stuffer Shack, approaching a steel firedoor lit by a thin strip of overhead LEDs.

Tristan knocked, the dull thud attesting to the solidness of the panel. After several seconds, a viewslit opened, the observer within obscured by heavy shadows. Tristan holds up a battered business card. The viewslit closes, but the door opens immediately afterwards, revealing a shadowed hallway. The tall swordsman steps inside, followed by Mac who catches a glimpse of the massive bulk of the doorman. In the dimness she can just make out a fantastical set of dull chrome body modifications, an urban tribal warrior wearing the scars of his rite of passage with pride.

At the end of the hall is a room, barely twice as wide as the hallway but also twice as long. Folding plastic dividers section off the room into narrow cubicles, each one featuring a plain plastic chair and a standard dataport. Tristan moved down the line until he found one that was empty as well as mostly clean, gesturing for Mac to sit.

[Vegas]

15:03:09 Friday, 12 January 2063 - Recott Lane Redmond, Seattle

Mac nodded and slid into the offered chair, sliding her commlink from her pocket and cabling one end to the dataport. She paused and looked back at Tristan who lounged casually against one of the partitions.

"I'll try to keep it short and sweet."

She grabbed the other cable and brushed her hair away from the side of her neck and jacked in. Macfelt the floor drop out from underneath her with dizzying speed as she shifted to the view of her interface. Seconds ticked by before she oriented herself and was speeding off to a out-of-the-way node that few people knew existed.

As she slowed upon her approach, her typical leather-clad skin instantly shifted to match the theme of the node the moment she crossed its boundary.

Micky Malone's was sculpted to look like a speakeasy from the 1920's. While hardly as robust or detailed as Palatine, the node was sculpted by someone with talent. Over the years it had become the private matrix hangout for a select group of hackers, matrix architects, geeks and whores. The working girls were only here because it was one of Frankie's clients who designed the place.

Mac passcode allowed her to pass through the door, and into the permanently smoky club. Frankie was hard to miss, decked out as a gun moll, holding court with a few admirers near the bar. She looked up the moment Mac walked in and untangled herself from the group to come sit with her in a small alcove booth and immediately laid into Mac.

"Girl, you realize Holly Anne was beside herself until she got your note?! What the hell happened?! Wayne made it sound like something really bad had happened, and then when they came to clean out your room..."

Mac let her rant and rave to get it out of her system. Frankie was always the excitable one of their tight-knit group. Once it was out of her system, they could get down to the true nature of her visit which was hardly a lecture on being a good friend.

"Frankie, it's a long and messed up story and I will gladly fill you and Holly Anne in one day soon, but I don't have a whole lot of time right this second."

The grim look on Mac's face said it all and Frankie got serious across the table from her.

"Are you in trouble?"

"Something like that. Someone is making my life difficult at the moment, and threatening to make it worse. I'm just looking at a way to get back at him through his work, which is why I was asking if anyone knew any specific clients at Yamatetsu."

Mac hesitated as she realized she probably didn't have the time to really flesh out an elaborate plan that would net her the people she'd need to do any damage against de Medici from within. She shifted gears, and fidgeted a bit before she asked for the thing she really needed, a way out if things went horribly wrong.

"Even more important though, if things get really bad, you know anyone who might be able to help get me out of the city clean? You know, fresh start, untraceable?"

[grendel]

15:11:32 Friday, 12 January 2063 - Recott Lane Redmond, Seattle

"Well, I got a couple of hits from the girls on Yamatetsu johns. One's a CorpSec lieutenant and the other's a project manager. Here's the contact info, but they're both burner links so I don't know how quickly you'll be able to get a hold of them."

Frankie flipped the LTG numbers over to Mac, who glanced at the file to make sure she had them before nodding. Using a prepaid commlink was common among Johns, and setting them to refuse incoming calls was a standard security measure. In the realm where all information was useful, she guessed that given enough time she could set something up using them.

Mac looked back up in time to see Frankie chewing on her virtual nails.

"What is it?"

"Look, I don't want to give you this, but if you're in deep drek and need out and clean, I know a guy who can make it happen for a price."

"What price?" asked Mac guardedly.

"You gotta work in his stable," replied Frankie quietly. "He can get you out of the city clean, set you up someplace else, but it'll be someplace doing his business for him."

[Vegas]

15:16:55 Friday, 12 January 2063 - Recott Lane Redmond, Seattle

Mac's face remained impassive as her stomach turned. An exorbitant financial cost she'd have figured out a way to shoulder it, but going back to working for someone and being under their thumb again was almost a deal breaker. Almost. Mac nodded her reluctant and silent acceptance.

"How far can he get me, and what is he into? Straight work, or is it deeper kink and twisted?"

Her voice was flat, but her concern was genuine. The reality was she might not have time to find another way out and as long as she didn't end up in a bunraku parlor she'd find a way on her own again.

"Frankie, I appreciate the concern and the fact that you don't want to give me the number, but if I wasn't in a bind and nearly desperate, I wouldn't be asking. You know I'm strong, girl I'll be ok."

She smiled weakly across the booth.

"Besides, it's only as a last resort."

[grendel]

15:19:11 Friday, 12 January 2063 - Recott Lane Redmond, Seattle

Frankie nods. "I know, I know. I just don't want to see you jumping from the frying pan into the fire. His name is Aleksei, he's a Vory pimp. He can get you out. Out out. All the way to New Orleans or Vladivostok if you want. He's straight up old-school, nothing special, nothing weird. But he has good connections. He works for Mikhail, Seattle's Vory tsar."

[Vegas]

15:23:37 Friday, 12 January 2063 - Recott Lane Redmond, Seattle

If you only knew just how far into the fire I already was girl...

Mac couldn’t stop herself from frowning slightly over the mention of the Vory. Getting involved with the Russians was a double-edged sword of sorts. The good side was they were legit, and she could take Frankie’s word that they’d be able to get her good and gone if necessary. The bad side however was that they were all business and while it might be a straight up “normal” version of her profession, it could make getting out of the deal eventually just as ugly as the mess she was in now.

She nodded her acceptance to the situation, deciding that remaining alive and going back to work for the Vory far outweighed the other possibilities.

“I don’t know if it will even come to needing the number, but having it will be a nice security blanket for the time being. I owe you one… or a million, Frankie. Let me grab Aleksei’s info now, because if it hits the fan I don’t know that I’ll have time to come back here to get it. I’ll do my best to reach out to you and Holly through here, even if it’s just to let you know I’m still on my feet.”

She waited until she confirmed that she had the Vory pimp’s information stored in her commlink before she stood and slid her way out of the booth. She guessed Tristan was bored babysitting her while she was online and knew they had to get back to get ready for the meet. She took a look at the woman who was one of the closest things she had to a friend in this world and tried not to let another goodbye overwhelm her.

“Look, I’ve gotta go. Thanks Frankie. Really, truly I mean that.”

She didn’t waste time and turned on a heel to exit the host, spending a moment inside her commlink to file away the information she got into separate, secure spaces before she shut it all down and yanked the cable from the side of her head. Jacking out quickly always made her a little disoriented, so she took a few deep breaths before she opened her eyes and turned to look for Tristan.

[grendel]

15:25:08 Friday, 12 January 2063 - Recott Lane Redmond, Seattle

Mac found Tristan lounging in the same location she'd left him, just behind her cubicle. His eyes and his presence serving to keep her clear from any of the other users loitering around the illegal jackpoint. Not that the risk was high, just about everyone else was recumbent, eyes vacant as their consciousnesses roamed the electronic ether. She watched as he upended a bag of soypuffs, shaking the last few crumbs into his mouth, and wondered where he'd managed to find the snacks. The Stuffer Shack showed signs of being abandoned for years, there couldn't have been anything left there.

"Ready?" he asked, derailing her thought process. She nodded, double checking to make sure she had all of her gear before following him down the dim hallway and out into the icy air of the sprawl.

15:57:32 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

The headlights of the Shadow sweep across the assembled team as Tristan skidded through the open door of the warehouse, the echoing snarl of the engine fading slowly as he powered down. No one remarked on the aggressive entrance, although Drift did shoot the swordsman a disapproving glance. Tristan handed him the key fob with a shrug that said you knew what would happen when you let me drive it.

Kovacs still wore his cold mask of professional indifference, but she caught the subtle motion of his hand in her direction, and she nodded briefly. He turned back towards Drift.

"All right, now that we're all here, let's run through it."

The ork nodded, sweeping his hand through the air and erecting a shared virtual workspace amongst them. The streets of downtown Seattle spread out before them, outlined in pale green. Data tags spangled the image, quickly overwhelming Mac until she worked her filters down to just what she thought was necessary. Desperately she wished she had a chance to talk to Kovacs before this, uncertain now if it was appropriate to PM him with a file request.

Frag it. She pitched it to him. A second later she had a copy of his filter file, importing it. Information populated her vision.

"The meet is set to take place at the Southern Star, the tiki bar at the Gates Undersound Hotel and Casino." As Drift spoke, the map irised down to an overhead view of the location plus a kilometer in every direction. A triple elevation of the building in skeletal outline popped up as well.

"A good choice based on security and surveillance needs for our Johnson, a difficult choice for us for the same reasons. If this is a legitimate job offer and not an assassination, casino security works in our favor. If it is an assassination, we will be unable to employ any heavy weaponry inside the hotel and at risk outside since it is located in a Lone Star Class A neighborhood. Recommended deployment plan is as follows: Tristan, Suda you'll be on site first at H minus sixty. No firearms, ceramic blades only. Suda, will you be able to slip past inspection by astral security?"

"Based on my initial recon, yes." There was none of the usual urbane playfulness in the shaman's voice now. The view had irised down to a layout of the ground floor of the hotel, with structural walls in gray and interior gaming spaces in orange. Generic icons spangled the map, moving as predicted by whatever pedestrian model Drift was running. Friendly icons were a brilliant blue, strobing whenever spoken about. Neutral security was a yellow, checkpoints and scanners in translucent while guards were crosshatched.

"We have no bump plan if Suda is refused entry or detained. Our contact team will be operating without full astral support. At H minus twenty, Kovacs, Mac, you'll make your entry from the parking garage to be at the bar at H minus fifteen. No firearms, ceramic blades only, with Centipede Alpha."

"Roger," said Kovacs. Mac got the impression that he and Drift had already discussed the team's force laydown. She echoed her mentor, watching as the electronic tag representing her moved through the virtual construct.

"I'll keep the Roadmaster mobile in a two block tether, immersive matrix support, back-up and suppressive fire on request. Any questions?"