19:48:58 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4320 S. Mead Street, Downtown, Seattle

Across the roof the car, Ludmila watched Miki for a moment. She felt beat and dead tired, but did her best to bury it all deep down. That little spot between her eyebrows tightened as she adopted what she hoped was a mask of detached professionalism. She nodded to him, once, but her eyes reflected something that wasn’t as hard as the rest of her body.

Leaning back into the car, she looked at Vadim. Her lips parted briefly.

“You...”

She’d been a single breath away from asking him if he needed help getting out of the car before the words choked into her throat. With a now characteristic passivity, he glanced at her.

“Thanks. I owe you. I mean it.”

With a grunt, the big Russian leaned forward a bit and swung himself out of the car. On the backseat, the chemist was half passed out from sheer exhaustion, which brought the brooding back to Ludi’s face. What in the drek did he have to be tired about?

“Hey! We are here. You get out.” she said in her thick English.

19:53:27 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4320 S. Mead Street, Downtown, Seattle

The chemist opens his mouth as if to protest, then sees the look on Ludi's face. Clutching the envelope to his chest, he scurries from the car. Pausing in front of Mikhail, he begins to stammer out an explanation. The Vory tsar waves it away, patting his arm and pointing towards the cluster of lab tables which make up the business part of the cookhouse.

Vadim steps out of the car as well, his movements still stiff although his wound has ceased to bleed.

"How many?" asks Mikhail as he approaches.

"Three less than they started with," replies the bulky Vory soldier. Mikhail nods, sliding a slim silver flask from the inner pocket of his suit coat. He drinks first, then offers it to Vadim, who accepts gratefully.

"Go get yourself patched up. I'll need you back out here when you're ready."

Mikhail takes the flask and offers it to Ludi, watching his soldier head off towards where his medical staff were clustered. The vodka was harsh in Ludi's mouth, and burned all the way down when she swallowed. It's heat was nothing compared to Mikhail's arm that he snaked around her waist, though, pulling her close.

"Thank you for bringing them back."

19:54:03 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4320 S. Mead Street, Downtown, Seattle

Ludmila bit her lower lip and smiled devilishly as Mikhail pulled her towards him. She forgot the fact she must have looked half horrible and that her body ached all over. She forgot the bruises and the fear. All she could feel was that hand on her lower back and the heat emanating from his body. She rarely allowed herself to be “seen” with Mikhail, even thought their relation was probably one of the most well known Vory “secret” in Seattle. She had spent years building her reputation in the organization, and the last thing she wanted (usually) was to have her skills put back into question. But right now, in this moment in time, the thought didn’t even cross her mind. She basked in the recognition. She felt safe and wanted; needed.

Holding Mikhail’s gaze, she smiled at him.

“Actually, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Vadim’s. I actually owe him a drink, if you can ever spare him.”

One of her hand slid upwards on his chest, hovering over his hearth.

“I promise I’ll be professional.” she added with another crooked smile.

As much as Ludmila wanted to live in this very moment, the thought of tonight’s run crawled back into her mind. She was due to a meet in an hour’s time... and she still hadn’t quite made the decision. She had a few stimpatchs, which would keep her up and running just long enough to see the night through... but then again, seeing the kind of day this was, the night could prove pretty rough.

She could also just call Zeyda and tell him a kind of version of the truth, and take the hit to her rep. But she knew she was already in hot water with the fixer, and standing up a job she herself had asked for was very bad etiquette. And there was the money. Those god damn creds she needed.

After a few seconds of silence, she cleared her throat and looked down.

“I got a picture of one of the guys, if it’s of any use.”

19:57:38 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4320 S. Mead Street, Downtown, Seattle

Mikhail nodded absently, his concentration elsewhere. Ludi did her best not to fidget as she waited for him to finish whatever virtual business was distracting him. After a second he gave a slight nod, and squeezed her side with his arm.

"Yes, give it to Jaro so he can run it against our database. Then go home to your family. Make sure they are safe. But be ready, I will need you again tomorrow."

Guilt stabbed at Ludi as she nodded, slipping aside to take her leave of the Vory tsar. She hated sneaking around behind him like this, taking jobs on the side. But she so desperately needed the money, money that didn't stink of Vory and that wouldn't tie her down to the organization more thoroughly than she already was. As if she needed any more reminding, her commlink shivered to an incoming message.

Meet is at 2100 at Basil's Faulty Bar, Westgate Blvd and Pearl Street in Tacoma. Ask for Alloces. - Z

20:00:12 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4320 S. Mead Street, Downtown, Seattle

It took Ludi a few minutes to find Jaro in the crowd of Vory soldiers. She had never been to the warehouse... but then again, she hadn't been to about 95% of the Vory operations in Seattle. For all intent and purposes, Ludmila wasn't completely "in" the Vory yet. She was still somewhat of an outsider, a loose pawn to be placed on the board. Somehow, after today's events, she had a hard time picturing things the same. When she finally found Jaro, she gave him what little footage she had of the attack and bummed a smoke off of him. She pulled on it so hard, by the time she was back to her car, it was nothing but a crumpled butt on the concrete floor.

Inside the cocooned shell of he compact car, everything suddenly felt distant and quiet. As she slammed the door behind her, venting out what little she could, Ludmila was startled by the silence. Blood was rushing up to her head. She felt her teeth grind against each other, painfully. Her knuckles turned white on the unmoving steering wheel.

Breath. In and out. Slowly. God damnit.

Nothing had gone as planned. Nothing at all. The past week had been nothing but snow, drek and near miss. She had been almost killed so many times in such a short time, she'd almost lost track. And it wasn't anywhere near over.

Her hands began to shake. She flexed them a few times. When the bile started to rise up in her throat, the shaking eased off and disappeared. Everything was alright. She was going to pull through. Her knuckles cracked.

She glanced at the passenger seat. Vadim had done a pretty decent job of not bleeding too much all over the seat. She'd have to clean the blood out it once she was finally home.

Home. Now that was a novel idea. Sure, she had pretty much everything she needed in the trunk of the car, but going home before the meet would have been nice. Get a shower. A cup of tea. Chain smoke an entire pack of cigarette. What a dream.

Taking a second look at her commlink, she fired a minimal reply to Zeyda.

Spasiba.

With one last look toward Mikhail, Ludmila connected the car's datalink to her jack and put the car into gear. The hybrid motor kicked in, pushing the car into a slow and silent glide out of the warehouse and back unto the road.

20:09:37 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4320 S. Mead Street, Downtown, Seattle

Vadim watched Ludi's car back from the warehouse and head out into the gathering darkness. He glanced in Mikhail's direction, finding the Vory Tsar occupied with a trid call along with a second physical conversation. He grimaced as one of the medics poked a particularly tender area before brushing off the man's efforts to bind his wound. He was fine. Ducking out of the med station, he strode to the armory. He had a decision to make and having something to do with his hands always helped. No one questioned him as he rummaged through the stack of ammo cans to find reloads for his shotgun. Nor did they say anything when he hefted one of the AK-98s racked along the wall, jacking a magazine into the well and dumping four more into the voluminous pockets of his greatcoat. He made sure the under barrel grenade launcher was loaded with HE rounds before slinging the weapon over his shoulder.

Out back of the warehouse, he found an Americar with the keys in the ignition. Firing the engine, he punched in the address that Mikhail had sent him to this afternoon, waiting for the navigation system to compute the most efficient route before jamming the engine into drive and accelerating into the night.

Northbound in her own vehicle, Ludi took a moment to scan through the local postings about Basil's Faulty Bar, finding elaborate descriptions of just how much of a dive bar it really was. Apparently, though, rumors abound that the owner is a former shadowrunner, and that the bar is a favorite meeting place of runners and Johnsons due to the staff's discretion. The slim Russian woman ran a hand through her hair, throwing away the idea of checking her appearance in the mirror. She already knew she looked ragged and there was nothing to be done about it now. Hopefully this Alloces, whomever he or she turned out to be, was telling the truth about it being strictly B&E. Ludi was in no condition to be working anywhere social niceties were required.

21:07:19 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 – Millennium Downtown Marriott, 333 South Figueroa St, Los Angeles, CFS

The party was, to put it simply, amazing. Cosmo might even have been able to enjoy herself had she not been there on a stolen invitation to conduct unknown nefarious business. At least she assumed it would be nefarious, in her experience very few legitimate actions took place in hotel penthouses around midnight. The thought made her smile and she sipped from her flute of champagne again. It was wonderfully cool and crisp, tasting slightly of tart apples, and she regretted that she would not be able to have more than one glass.

Shield stood next to her, stiff and uncomfortable. The suit fit him like a glove, tailored to show off his broad, muscular shoulders and trim waist, but he was utterly out of his environment in the middle of such a high society soiree. Cosmo, on the other hand, felt at home for the first time since she’d woken up on New Year’s day. The party atmosphere and movements were as familiar and comfortable as a favorite pair of shoes.

“Hey, I think that’s James Triton!” Shield craned his head to see over the crush of people.

“Relax,” murmured Cosmo, plucking another chocolate covered strawberry from her plate and popping it into her mouth. She’d been impressed with the buffet in any case; fresh fruit and vegetables, caviar, shrimp cocktail, finger sandwiches of prosciutto and roma tomatoes, asparagus spears wrapped in salmon, cheese cubes, and dipping sauces of all kinds. But when she discovered that they had fountains of both milk and dark chocolate for the fresh strawberries, she suppressed a shiver of delight. She’d sent Shield back three times for more. After all, it just wouldn’t do for a lady to go so often.

“He’s the light heavyweight MMA title holder two years running! I wonder if I could get an autograph.” Shield actually sounded hopeful. Cosmo glanced at her companion, concerned for a moment that he was serious. He shook his head, though, more to answer his own question than to reassure her, but she smiled anyway.

Cosmo had done her homework prior to the party, studying up on the faces of popular media. During their initial tour of the room she’d counted at least four simstars with top ten releases, three multi-platinum singers, four sports figures other than James Triton, including the quarterback of last year’s championship Blood Bowl team, as well as a host of runway models. Not to mention the dozens of producers, agents, actors, actresses, and simflick talent schmoozing around. Luckily, it seemed that her work with Shield was having the appropriate effect. No one looked twice at them, or if they did, it was to gauge how they might be exploited in the industry. She deftly turned aside several offers to appear in pictures, both legitimate and illicit, keeping the two of them moving and socializing, waiting for their inevitable midnight appointment.

04:57:29 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac didn't like the sound of Isomer's message and she knew she needed to share it with Kovacs when she had the first opportunity. She unwound herself from the chair and made herself a little less comfortable as she studied the screens in front of her. She might not have know the exact ramifications of Isomer's prediction, but the fact that he could tell her they were Europeans flying over on falsified papers told her enough. They weren't just some two-bit street team and that made her shiver with a chill she couldn't quite shake. She had a feeling that something bad was going to come of all of this.

05:01:38 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac glanced over at Kovacs, trying to judge the moment. His eyes were closed, but his breathing was still active, his stillness not one of sleep. She cleared her throat.

"I just got a message from Isomer, think it's something you should see," she said, pitching her voice loud enough to wake him if he were dozing. He wasn't.

"Send it," he replied immediately. She forwarded the text to him. A minute passed. Kovacs opened his eyes, swearing bitterly underneath his breath.

"How are you feeling?" he asked incongruously. Mac blinked.

"Fine, I suppose, why?"

"When Drift gets back, I'm sending you and him out to find out more about this. We need to know if they're an isolated cell or if they're part of something larger. Specifically this larger thing that we're a part of."

05:04:06 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac nodded her acceptance as her eyes snapped forward towards the screens, not wanting to look over at Kovacs, feeling like she was a disappointment. She watched the screens in silence as she tried to figure out something to offer that would be of value to the situation. She remembered the moments in the hotel, the conversation she overheard that led them to the warehouse in Renton.

"There were two that we knew of at the warehouse, two at the hotel room and I overheard them talking about four other "teams" who were sent out to pick up other girls I think. I suppose that means there could be up to eight others. Never figured out what their endgame was going to be, only that they said they'd use the girls as a distraction and whatever they had planned was happening in the very near future."

She frowned and shrugged slightly, "Not sure how much any of that helps at this point."

05:08:19 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Kovacs cursed again. "This is not good. We'll have to put out inquiries across the spectrum. I have a bad feeling that our current job may be linked to the information you've uncovered. And, if so, we will have to re-examine our plan of operations."

He stretched and rubbed his eyes.

"And if we're facing that many, we may need to acquire additional talent."

05:16:29 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

She could hear the frustration sewn with the underpinnings of hints of exhaustion in his voice. Turning away from the screens for a moment, she turned her attention on him, her head tilting slightly as she regarded him and the concern showed on her face. She reached over and gently brushed her hand over his.

"I've got this," Mac gestured towards the console, her voice laced with traces of worry. "Go back, get some rest please. I can wake everyone if necessary or I can wake you when Drift gets back. If it all shakes out the way you think it might we're going to need you in top form."

She turned away from him and drew her hand back to her lap.

"Please Kovacs."

05:21:06 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Kovacs frowns, looking like he's going to argue for a moment, before sighing. "All right. Wake me when Drift gets back. We'll tackle this then."

Standing, he leans over to kiss her, a brief but warm gesture, before disappearing into his truck. Silence descended onto the warehouse, a quiet broken only by the persistent hum of the electronics in front of Mac, and the lonely cries of the city waking to another work week. Mac brooded, her thoughts chasing themselves down dark, concave passageways, always returning to that last brutal flash of light, and the silent screams of the innocent dead. After an hour or so, an incoming text interrupts her.

Hey, it's Frankie. Hope you're doing okay. Could you stop by sometime if you're free?

06:47:51 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac read the message and found herself hesitate to write her friend back instantly. She was worried about Frankie and was glad to see her reach out, but she was a little gun shy given all the events of the prior evening and the latest possible developments. Then again she couldn't stomach the thought of turning her friend away if she needed her.

Reluctantly she crafted a reply but was interrupted in hitting send by the approach of Drift's Roadmaster on the screens in front of her, followed by the rumble of the engine and the rattle of the rising garage door. She was grateful for his return, and managed a slight smile as the rigger made his way over towards the consoles.

"Welcome back. I don't want to dive right into the business end of things, but I'm guessing you're up to speed on tonight's earlier events?" She waited for a brief nod from Drift before she continued. "How secure is our network? Our links to one another? Links to the outside world?"

Given how completely sideways tonight had gone, the last thing she wanted to do was jeopardize their location or the plans the team had set in motion should both events be as intertwined as Kovacs was expecting.

06:56:32 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

"As secure as I can make it," replied Drift. "I'm not a pure console cowboy, though, so it's not completely penetration proof. It's just a harder target than most. Sorry to hear about your friend."

Mac nodded. "Thanks. There's been some further developments. Kovacs thinks that what I found out last night might be related to our current mission. He wanted to call an all hands meeting and start canvassing for further information."

Drift grimaces. "I'm not surprised. There was something fishy about this from the get-go. All right, let me clean up the truck a bit and we can get this party started." The ork made his way to the rear of the Roadmaster, opening both doors and climbing inside. Mac stood and stretched, delaying as long as she felt she could before going to knock on Kovacs' door. Although she didn't imagine that he was unaware of Drift's return, a suspicion that proved correct when he emerged from the truck a minute later, drinking from a bottle of water. Despite the two day stubble dusting his cheeks and that he'd only had a couple hours of rest, he looked refreshed and alive, his face wolf-lean and hungry. He slid his arm around her waist and she let him pull her close, turning her face up to meet his kiss. She felt his other hand moving, and knew he was manipulating some virtual vision only he could see. The result was quickly apparent, though. Tristan stumbled out from the cots, rubbing his face.

"Morning already?" he grumbled.

"The perfect time for breakfast," replied Kovacs. "Afterwards, you and Mac have a couple of errands to run."

"Oh?" Beneath his sleep mussed hair, the swordsman managed to look suspicious.

"Based on info that she picked up last night in the search for her friend, I think our job is being complicated by outside operators. Mac overheard them talking about 'four teams' of possibly four individuals if what she ran across was a single unit last night." Kovacs turned to include Drift in the conversation, who'd stepped out from the back of the Roadmaster. "Isomer ran some analyses on the data and correlated an international arrival with those four individuals. He thinks the tactics fit those of Winternight."

Both Tristan and Drift swore, equally as colorfully as Kovacs had done when he first learned the information.

"We should drop this job," said Suda, appearing from around the console, still wrapped in her blanket. "If Winternight is involved that's more than we can tackle alone."

Kovacs shook his head. "We can't just drop it. Not at this point. We already know too much about what's going to go down. If we don't finish this, if de Medici's plans fall through, he'll spend the rest of his life hunting us down. And he knows a lot about who we are and what we're capable of. We either do this or we don't stop running, forever." The tall samurai looked at Drift. He already knew Tristan's answer, but he needed to gauge how the rigger felt, knowing that his wife and child were on the line as well.

"I know a couple of guys we can call," replied the ork. Kovacs nodded.

"Prep to close up shop here for the day, we're all going to have destinations to get to without anyone staying behind." He turned to Suda who was shaking her head.

"I need you to break out the big guns."

"They don't come cheap," she said, running a hand through her hair.

"Front it," replied Kovacs. "You'll get it back plus some on the back side." Suda nodded, turning back towards the cots to get dressed. Kovacs looked at Tristan.

"After breakfast go see O'Malley. Call in our marker."

The swordsman nodded. "Gonna be that kind of day, huh?"

"A red day," said Kovacs. "And the sun rises."

07:00:13 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac shook her head as everything unfolded quickly around her. Comforted by Drift's words about the network, she decided to go ahead and send the text to Frankie.

I'm holding up alright. I'm more concerned about you. As soon as I can get free of things I'll come find you. Where will you be today? Will you be around the apartment?

She admitted she was testing her friend, they never called their rooms at The Stable apartments, always the dorms. She was feeling a little paranoid doing it, but seeing the reactions from the team when Winternight was brought up, she decided to be extra cautious. Her hand went reflexively to her right shoulder, rubbing at a phantom pain that lingered as she looked over to Tristan.

"I'm ready to go whenever you are."

07:24:19 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Tristan gestured towards his face. "Gimme a minute to clean up. I have to look presentable for this meeting." He disappeared back towards the cots, and Mac heard water splashing on the floor. Drift was powering down the surveillance console and packing it away, while Kovacs coiled the cables and stashed them at the base of the support column they ran down. The Roadmaster's engine was already idling. Suda reappeared, dressed once more in her jumpsuit and cloak.

"I'm leaving behind a couple of spirits to watch the place, they've got standard guard orders but they're only covering inside. I'll be back this evening."

"Be careful," said Kovacs, and meant it. Even in this atmosphere of tension, the cat shaman could still spare one of her sardonic little smiles.

"Aww, I didn't think you still cared." She blew Kovacs a kiss and then was out the door.

"I'll be as quick as I can," said Drift, one leg inside the Roadmaster.

"Be careful," said Kovacs. The rigger nodded. "You, too."

The garage door scrolled open, admitting the pale morning light along with a chill wind. Kovacs opened the rear doors of his truck, reaching into one of the lockers in the bed and pulling out several items, one of which was an Ares Alpha. He locked the assault rifle into a brace beneath the dashboard that left the buttstock of the weapon presented, ready for immediate use. He waited, though, until Tristan reappeared, clean shaven and fresh.

"You going to tell me to be careful, too?" he asked with a smile.

"No. I'm going to tell you to take care of her," Kovacs nodded towards Mac. "I already know you'll be careful."

The two men grasped hands, right to right, wrist to wrist. The moment stretched.

"This is the right path," said Tristan. "Whatever comes, you made the right call."

Kovacs grinned, and they parted. The tall samurai climbed into the truck and backed towards the open garage door. Just before, though, he rolled down his window.

"Be careful!" he called. Tristan gave him the finger before turning towards where Mac stood, next to the sleek lines of the Shadow.

"Ready?" he asked. She nodded, dropping into the passenger seat of the vehicle as the swordsman fired the engine. They accelerated out of the warehouse and into the morning as her commlink buzzed with an incoming message.

Yeah, Mario figured it would be better if we hung around here. We'll be at my place all day. I'm ok. A bit tore up inside. Mario's not doing well. Gulfen was a longtime friend.

07:29:37 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

A sharp frown marred her features as she read the latest message reply. Something was definitely off, something more than her friend dealing with shock or grief. It was setting off alarms in the back of her mind. She knew Frankie wouldn't have been "okay" just a few scant hours after Gulfen had died. She had seen the look in her friend's eyes in the hotel's parking lot when he climbed out of the truck. That wasn't something she'd just flip off like a light switch. She chewed at her lower lip while she tried to figure out what she could do, while she sent back another message.

I've got a few loose ends to wrap up this morning, I'll give you a call when I'm on my way over if that's cool? My friend wanted to check on how you're healing this morning, mind sending over a picture so they can take a peek?

Mac tossed her commlink into her lap and sighed heavily. They had barely left the industrial complex when she dove right into the heart of the conversation she needed to have with Tristan.

"So who's O'Malley, and bring me up to speed on the whole Winternight thing."

07:36:23 Monday, 15 January 2063 - I5 northbound out of Tacoma, Seattle

Tristan changed lanes, heading towards the freeway onramp. "Damian O'Malley is an underboss in the O'Malley mafia crime family. When we knew him he was barely a made man. Got himself into a heap of trouble during the Yakuza war and was headed towards a pair of concrete shoes and a long walk off a short pier. Kovacs and I bailed him out of trouble, made the evidence disappear. He gave us a marker that we could use as a favor someday."

The swordsman accelerated up the ramp, his face a mask of tension. Mac knew there was more to the story.

"The problem?" she prompted.

"He's a fragging psychopath." Tristan's tone indicated he was using the descriptor in the clinical sense of the term. "Dealing with him is like juggling armed grenades. Sooner or later everything's going to blow up in your face."

"Why'd you tell Kovacs that this was the right call then?"

"Because it is. If Isomer is right, we're outgunned. Winternight is a paramilitary terrorist group based out of Europe. They think they can bring about the end times of Ragnarok by destabilizing the social order. They're responsible for numerous attacks against high profile infrastructure targets, as well as anything they see as being integral to the status quo. We've tangled with them a couple of times, mostly be accident, and it's always been bad. They're fanatical, wholly dedicated to their cause and willing to kill themselves and anyone who gets in the way." Tristan laid out the details in a voice devoid of his usual humor. The news had clearly cast a damper over his demeanor. Mac could understand why. Her commlink distracted her with an incoming message, though. The picture showed Frankie sans make-up and top, the wound on her shoulder an ugly bruise but nothing more. Her face was drawn and tense, eyes puffy from crying.

You can drop by anytime. Mario and I ordered in. He's sleeping still.

07:42:36 Monday, 15 January 2063 - I5 northbound out of Tacoma, Seattle

"Something's not right." She half-whispered her thoughts before she could stop herself and she could see Tristan's brow raise out of the corner of her eye. Mac pinched the bridge of her nose as the hits just kept on coming. Frankie would have to wait, as much as it pained her to think it, she needed to have her complete head in the game for the meeting that was about to take place and she had bought herself at least a few hours to figure things out.

"So if Winternight gets off on the idea of destabilizing social order, then they would probably get behind the idea of bringing a good portion of Seattle to its knees by flooding it don't you think? If that's really the endgame of this phantom team we're running up against?" She swallowed hard as the rest of the swordsman's description of the group sunk in and Tristan accelerated coming out of a tight curve.

"I'm guessing they don't leave loose ends, and they'll use any means necessary to tie them off... I'm worried that they may have gotten to my friends from last night, something isn't sitting right with me about the messages I've gotten from them today and how things were left hours ago."

08:29:36 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 718 North Park Blvd, Downtown, Seattle

Tristan shrugged, taking the Holman Road exit into Downtown off the freeway. "Maybe, maybe not. Depends on what kind of opsec they're running. If they think someone's on to them it maybe that the rest of the group is just going to go to ground like we did, drop off the radar until they can execute their mission. Then they'll think about erasing tracks on the backside. But if you're worried about your friend, we can stop by after we talk to O'Malley."

Mac recognized the signs for Crown Hill. "Tell me the Mafia doesn't live in Little Italy. Isn't that just too obvious?"

The swordsman shook his head. "The mafia doesn't live in Little Italy. They live in South Downtown, closer to the docks. But it's bad form to come calling this early in the morning without gifts."

The Shadow nosed into the parking lot of a narrow strip mall, stopping in front of Picolino's Bakery. Even inside the car, Mac could smell the heady scents of cinnamon and cream, sfogliatella, cannolis, and coffee. Her stomach grumbled. Tristan glanced at her in some surprise. "You sound as hungry as I am."

Mac nodded, following him into the small storefront. Tristan ordered extravagantly, eventually paying for over three dozen pastries as well as a large cup of coffee. Mac settles for a hazelnut filled croissant and a larger cup of coffee. She turns to the car, only to find Tristan stuffing a second cannoli into his mouth, his shirt front dusted with powdered sugar.

"You're a disaster," she said, matter of factly, and sipped her coffee.

"Pard of my tharm," replied Tristan, his mouth full. Stashing the boxes in back, he washed his pastry down with a gulp of coffee before pulling back out into traffic. Weaving his way south on surface streets, they left the commercial districts of Downtown behind for the old money residential areas of South Downtown. Eventually they pulled into a gated driveway in front of a well kept two story brick colonial. A pair of guards stepped forward, dressed in heavy greatcoats that helped to conceal the weaponry each was carrying. Tristan buzzed down the window.

"This is private property, sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"I have an appointment," replied Tristan, handing over a slim plastic card. Mac watched the guard turn away, consulting with someone over AR. It only took a minute before he returned the card and waved them through.

"Park anywhere in back." The gate cammed open, and Tristan followed the driveway around past a large three car garage to a cement parking pad in back. Two other vehicles, a Land Rover and a Toyota luxury sedan, were already parked there.

"Leave you gun in the car," he said, and Mac nodded, drawing her pistol from its holster and dropping it into the side pocket on the door. Bearing the boxes of pastries, they made their way to the door closest to the parking pad. It opened before they got there, although neither of the two guards waiting inside stepped out. Another pair waited further down the hall, submachineguns in hand. One of the guards roots through the boxes of pastries, making sure nothing lethal is tucked away, while the second one frisks both Tristan and Mac. It's a professional job, not just an excuse to run his hands over her curves. He finds, but doesn't remark on the pair of pistol mags still on her hip. He gives Tristan a look when he finds the long bladed knife tucked into the swordsman's belt, but leaves it be, taking one of the cannoli instead.

"Follow me," said the shorter of the two guards at the end of the hall, gesturing with his weapon. Tristan leads, trailed by Mac, and then the last two guards. They make their way down the hall, and down a set of stairs before turning left and entering a lavish indoor swimming pool. Walking along the pool deck, they come to a narrow wooden door. The guard knocks twice, loudly. A couple of minutes pass as they all stare at each other awkwardly before the door opens.

The man lounging against the jamb is clearly fighting a hangover, his hair is disheveled and his eyes are still bloodshot. Beyond that, though, he wears a mantle of casual, destructive power, even with a plain towel wrapped around his waist. He blinks in the bright light, but Mac can tell that his slow pace is a deliberate exaggeration of his condition.

"Tristan. Haven't seen you in a long time."

"Mr. O'Malley, thank you for seeing us so early." Tristan offers the open box of pastries. O'Malley raises an eyebrow, but picks one of the sfogliatella regardless, inhaling the sharp lemon of its frosting.

"You and Kovacs always did honor the old ways. It's the only thing that made doing business with you palatable. What can I do for you today?"

"We're calling in our marker," said the swordsman. "We need information and firepower. We've come across evidence that there maybe up to four Winternight cells operating in Seattle in the advance stages of an operation. We believe that operation will execute early on Wednesday morning."

O'Malley straightened at the news, his affected insouciance vanishing. "Winternight? In Seattle?"

Tristan nodded. "Their target isn't localized. We have reason to believe that they're going to cause widespread damage to Tacoma and Downtown."

A wry grin twisted O'Malley's lips. "You're coming to me with this not only because I owe you but because you know I'll act to protect my own interests. Very savvy. I honor our agreement. I'll put some men at your disposal, but it'll take me a couple of hours to make the arrangements."

"You have my number," replied Tristan. O'Malley nodded, and with that, the interview was over. Tristan and Mac were quietly escorted back to the side entrance.

"Thanks for the cannoli," said the tall guard, his expression softening somewhat. Tristan grinned, although Mac couldn't fathom why, and they both climbed back into the Shadow.

08:43:17 Monday, 15 January 2063 - I5 out of south Downtown, Seattle

Reflexively, the first thing Mac did once she settled in the passenger seat was reholster her pistol, the weight now comfortable on her hip. She looked over at Tristan as he slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door and fired up the Shadow that purred beneath them. She had been expecting more fireworks given Tristan’s description of O’Malley on the drive over, but he seemed remarkably collected, especially when his personal interests were threatened.

“That seemed to go well?” Mac queried.

Tristan nodded his head once as he drove through the upscale neighborhood, his attention focused more on the happenings outside the car. He remained hyper vigilant, only letting himself relax once they were well and clear of the immediate neighborhood with no signs of tails or other surprises. Mac had sat quietly, re-reading the messages from Frankie and viewing the photo again trying to make heads or tails of it all.

“So, about my friends…” She hesitated a moment before sliding her fingers across her commlink, tossing the image to Tristan. “Does she look like someone who’s grieving, or does she look like she’s in trouble to you?” Mac left out her opinion because the fact she was asking alone made it rather clear.

08:58:39 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1410 Walker St Suite B, Seattle

Almost as soon as he got on the interstate, he took the Charleston Street Exit.

"We caught him before he could get his drink on," amplified Tristan. "Although he was surprisingly lucid for this early in the morning. A couple of years ago I doubt he would have agreed to see us until later in the afternoon."

"He didn't like the mention of Winternight, either," commented Mac. "I hope these reinforcements will be up to the task."

"Probably not," Tristan ducked off the main thoroughfare and onto a narrow side street, clearly searching for something. "Most of them will be low level soldiers, not even made men, bruisers and gilettes just a step above gang quality. They talk a big game but they don't put in the practice necessary to get good. The Winternight cells will mow 'em down. But hopefully they'll slow them long enough that we can engage and eliminate them. Aha."

Tristan pulled into a narrow driveway, made even thinner by the accumulation of snow along the gutter, and parked in a rear parking lot. The faded sign on the door read 'Rising Lotus Dim Sum'. He grinned at Mac. "Second breakfast."

Debarking, he glanced at the picture she fed to his AR feed. "Dunno, people process grief in different ways. I've seen people lock it up tight, watch their friends get iced in front of them and move on like it was any other day. Could be the numbness hasn't worn off yet."

09:07:29 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1410 Walker St Suite B, Seattle

Mac shook her head and tried to hide her smile when Tristan mentioned second breakfast as they pulled into the lot and came to a stop.

"You know you should really have that tapeworm looked at."

As she stepped out of the Shadow, her shoes landed in the slush of the lot, instantly chilling her toes to the bone and brought a frown back to her lips. She pulled the zipper up on her jacket as they made their way to the door together. Walking inside, they were greeted by the rush of steamy heat and the intoxicating smell of ginger, soy and hot oil that practically wrapped around Mac like a blanket. An eclectic mix of bamboo and stainless steel steaming baskets were already being pushed around on carts as she followed Tristan past the large round tables that were mostly empty and he led her back to one of the many unoccupied booths.

She slid all the way in opposite Tristan and leaned up against the wall, kicking her feet up on the booth as the first cart came by and the swordsman wasted no time picking a multitude of baskets before Mac could even shake her head with a polite refusal.

"I want to believe that my friend is fine, or at least that she will be with time. I just can't shake the thought that something isn't right. And after Holly... " She stopped herself before she got caught back up in the emotion, shaking her head she cleared the thoughts and look up at Tristan pinning him with a look as he had a shrimp Shu Mai trapped between chopsticks.

"I just don't want to walk us into some kind of trap if we go and check on her."

09:12:15 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1410 Walker St Suite B, Seattle

Tristan shrugs. "We'll be as careful as we can be. I think it would be pretty quick work, though, even for Winternight to be able to track down your friend so fast. After all, she didn't leave anything behind at the scene to identify herself."

He slid one of the bao on the steamer off onto Mac's plate before taking the other two for himself.

"Don't let me forget," he said between bites, "to get something to go. Kovacs would have my head if I didn't bring him something back."

09:15:47 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1410 Walker St Suite B, Seattle

Mac nodded as she brought the steamed bun to her lips and taking a small bite, she was rewarded with the smoky richness of the barbecue pork inside. She understood why anyone would be upset if they missed the opportunity to enjoy the food here. She poured herself a cup of hot jasmine tea, before offering to pour for Tristan as well while he continued to eat.

"So do we have more errands to run this morning?"

Tristan's words about it being unlikely that Winternight would have been able to track Frankie allowed her to relax a bit and not feel like she needed to get to her with the same level of urgency as before.

09:22:39 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1410 Walker St Suite B, Seattle

Tristan shook his head, his mouth full. He paused for a swallow of tea before clarifying.

"Not as yet. I let our erstwhile leader know how the meeting with O'Malley went but he hasn't come back with any further tasking. I wouldn't put it past him, though, given the information we've gotten ahold of. I might have a few other avenues that I should look into anyway. But nothing that would keep us from stopping past your friend's apartment."

The swordsman left unsaid the part about 'after second breakfast', although Mac thought he might be slowing down. She, herself, was pleasantly full despite having only nibbled at the bao. The shu mai had done their part, as well as the sticky rice balls. She sipped her tea and watched Tristan maneuver his chopsticks with the same skill and efficiency he showed with a blade in his hands. At last he sat back, a warm smile on his face.

"All finished? Let's get going, then."

09:39:42 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1410 Walker St Suite B, Seattle

She nodded and pushed away from the wall, stretching her legs back out in front of her from the ball she had compacted into as she started to slip her jacket back onto her shoulders and zipped up the front.

"Her place doesn't need to be the first stop on our list if you've got places you'd rather visit first. If I won't be in the way that is." Mac paused as she slid halfway out of the booth and looked up at Tristan as he settled his coat onto his shoulders. "Besides you made me promise to remind you we were bringing something back for our erstwhile leader as you so affectionately like to call him. I'd hate to see you get on on his bad side."

She flashed the swordsman a wink and a smile while he flagged over one of the waitstaff and placed an order to go. It didn't take long before they were walking back out to the Shadow with insulated boxes of delicious smelling Chinese.

09:46:07 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1410 Walker St Suite B, Downtown, Seattle

"Nope," replied Tristan, settling behind the wheel. "Yours is the only errand on the list."

He paused for a moment with the engine running, sniffing the air. The car was rapidly filling with the smell of the dim sum from the takeout bag in the back seat. Tristan stepped out and moved it to the trunk. Mac shook her head.

"How do you find time to do anything other than eat?"

The swordsman shrugged. "There's twelve other hours of the day."

10:02:15 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Stable, 620 Stewart Street, Downtown, Seattle

Tristan circled the block a couple of times before finally parking the Shadow curbside. None of the vehicles littering the parking lot or the nearby streets and alleys aroused suspicion, no unmarked gray vans, no idling trucks or cars with multiple passengers in them. The foot traffic all seemed innocuous as well, Mac anxiously scanning both sidewalks for anything that might betray surveillance or an ambush about to be sprung.

"Looks clear to me," said Tristan. Mac nodded reluctantly. Despite her continued misgivings, she couldn't point to any evidence that her fears were justified. She checked her pistol once more just to be sure, then exited the vehicle alongside Tristan. In the harsh morning light, the worn facade of the building looks even more cheap and tawdry. She found it hard to believe just how long she'd remained a resident, and yet how distant those times seemed. She and Tristan rode the elevator up in silence, although the swordsman punched the button for the floor below Frankie's apartment. Mac glanced at him.

"Just in case you're right," he smiled. Together they cleared the hallway before exiting the elevator, turning right and moving silently through the door to the stairwell. Tristan checked both landings, ensuring that no one was poised to ambush them before once more clearing the hallway outside Frankie's apartment. So far, it appeared Mac's fears were unfounded. She felt herself relax minutely, nodding in response to Tristan's questioning glance. She knocked on the door to Frankie's place. After a minute, footsteps sounded and the door opened.

"Hey," said Frankie, looking much the same as the picture she sent earlier.

"Hey," said Mac, unsure. She hovered in the doorway, her eyes glancing left and right before finally settling on her friend. Noise from the trideo plays in the background, but nothing appears out of the ordinary. She can feel Tristan behind her conducting his own scan, ready to react at a moment's notice should her worst fears be proven correct. The moment passes, though, without armored Winternight soldiers pouring from ambush positions. Instead, Frankie reaches out and hugs Mac.

"Thanks for coming."

10:08:39 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Stable, 620 Stewart Street, Downtown, Seattle

Mac found herself holding her breath as the seconds dragged on and she tilted her head just slightly as she willed herself to listen beyond the flimsy door and into her friend's room. She knocked firmly a second time, only then she could hear the sound of movement behind it. Mac flexed her fingers slightly, swallowing hard as she heard the locks release and the door opened only a crack.

Her friend stepped out and embraced her tightly and Mac couldn't help but let out the breath she'd been holding in a rush and hug the chocolate-haired girl tightly.

"You didn't call before you came over." Frankie's tone was tense and brusque as she brought her hand slowly to her face and rubbed at her red and tired eyes. "I guess I fell asleep waiting."

"It's Ok Frankie, I'm here." She felt her friend tense slightly as she spotted Tristan leaning against the wall. "Frankie this is Tristan..." She started as if just saying his name was explanation enough. "Tristan, my best friend Frankie."

Mac's eyes shifted from the curiosity on her friend's face to just beyond her as she tried to get a better look inside her room, still unable to completely relax and not to jump at the shadows. She watched as her friend's gaze raked over the swordsman with a hint of appreciation on her face, tearing her eyes away she pinned Mac with a look.

"So is he the guy?"

Mac couldn't stop the exasperated sigh, nor the rolling of her eyes as she shook her head. She figured her friend must not have remembered much of last night when Kovacs had been there, and she found herself oddly relieved that she could still keep him somewhat of a secret.

"So can we come in, or are we going to hang out here until Wayne comes to crash the party?"

10:15:26 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Stable, 620 Stewart Street, Downtown, Seattle

"No, I'm not the guy," replied Tristan with a smile. "I'm much more handsome."

Mac elbowed him as he walked past into the apartment, trying desperately to shoot a look at Frankie but her girlfriend wouldn't have any of it.

"She wouldn't tell me anything," groused Frankie, following the swordsman. "How well do you know him?"

"We're like brothers."

Mac shook her head. "This is so not happening now."

Mario took the opportunity to appear from the bedroom, still moving slowly. He favored Mac with a smile. "How you doing?"

She still had her defenses up, years of street work giving her an armored soul, but there was something honest and unassuming in Mario's tone, something that made her want to trust him and tell him the truth.

"I'm better," she said softly, reaching out to give him a reassuring touch. "I don't think it's fully sunk in yet."

"Yeah, me too," said the bouncer, looking down at his hands. "I'm gonna miss that guy."

10:21:01 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Stable, 620 Stewart Street, Downtown, Seattle

Mac found herself reaching her hand out to Mario's arm in a gesture of comfort, she barely knew the guy but she knew he was "good people."

"I'm really sorry about your friend, if I had known what we were up against..."

Shaking her head she trailed off the rest of her statement as it didn't need to be said, as the two of them finished the sentence with a look between them. She looked over towards where Tristan was holding court and speaking conspiratorially with her friend and she groaned despite the soft smile on her lips. There was a sparkle back in Frankie's eyes that wasn't there 10 minutes ago as she did her best to flirt with the charming swordsman.

As she and Mario joined the pair before things got too out of hand, Mac sat on the edge of the table and shifted her gaze between everyone.

"Are you two ok? You asked me to come by... What do you need from me Frankie?"

She kept her tone soft as she was inquisitive, knowing she and Tristan were on a deadline, even if he wouldn't voice it.

10:28:43 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Stable, 620 Stewart Street, Downtown, Seattle

Frankie turned away from Tristan, sliding closer to Mac. "I just wanted to see you again. It was a crazy morning and things were said."

Mac put her arm around her friend. "More things should probably be said. Better things."

She felt Frankie shiver, her arms making the embrace mutual. Tristan moved in the periphery of her vision, although she wasn't sure where until she heard Mario.

"Yeah, it's a double sausage, double pepperoni Chicago style."

"Oh hey, Fellini's. One of my favorite places."

The microwave started.

"I hope you didn't want any more pizza," Mac said quietly. "Tristan will eat it all if you let him."

"Oh." Frankie sniffled. "I guess that's fine."

10:52:14 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Stable, 620 Stewart Street, Downtown, Seattle

Mac gave Frankie’s shoulder a squeeze as she steered her friend towards the bedroom so they could continue their talk with a little more privacy. She shut the door slightly and let her friend take a seat on the edge of the bed while she chewed her lip and tried to figure out everything she wanted to say as she paced the floor slowly in front of her.

“You’re really ok? I mean as much as you can be right now?” She paused her steps to really take a look at Frankie.

“Physically sure, mentally…” Frankie shook her head and looked on the verge of tears again and it threatened to bring Mac right back into the emotional tornado from hours before if she let herself get sucked back in. She sunk to the bed beside her friend and held her close as she was trying to force back the feelings of guilt that were flooding over her. She felt the warm tears before she heard Frankie’s sobs and all she could do was hold her tighter and let her fall apart in her arms.

Time passed and she let Frankie get it out of her system as she could hear snippets of the conversation going on in the living room around mouthfuls of pizza. Finally Frankie pulled away, wiping at her face and nose with the back of her hand and apologizing for soaking Mac’s shoulder.

“Don’t even think about it sister.” She tried to smile but it was a laced with grimness as she pitched her voice even lower when she continued. “Look, I need to talk to you about last night and I need to ask a couple of favors from you.”

She could read the confusion in her friend’s eyes, mixed with the anger that shimmered just beneath at the thought Mac would ask anything more of her. Before she could open her mouth to protest however, Mac continued.

“Last night we got in too deep, like way over our heads too deep and I’m never sure I’ll forgive myself for putting us there. Or for what happened to them,” Mac swallowed hard over the thought, but forced herself to continue, unzipping her jacket and pulling out a credstick that she pressed into her friend’s hand. “This is what I need to ask of you, of Mario too, can you both just keep a really low profile for the next two or three days? There’s enough on that stick to grab a decent hotel room, order in and just not be here for a little while?”

Confusion started to mix with nervousness in her friend’s eyes and she started to protest, trying to give the money back to Mac who refused in no uncertain terms to take it back.

“Frankie, I’m not kidding. Those guys last night were bad news, like worse than bad really. I just want you two to be safe for a few days so I can try to get you out from underneath it. I’m really talking about going off the grid girl, no work, no clients, no clubs… You get the idea right? The only time I’ll reach out to you is to tell you you’re in the clear otherwise…” She took another deep breath and let the final shoe drop. “You remember your friend that you gave me his number the other day, when I said I was in trouble? You need to call him and you need to ghost if I can’t fix this.”

Mac watched as her words sunk in, Frankie’s eyes going wide with the fear of just how bad this could really get before she nodded her understanding. Mac stood up quickly and walked to the door of the bedroom and opened it wide before she looked back over her shoulder at her friend.

“You can hate me later, I just… I don’t want to lose you too.”

She walked out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, throwing on the lights and fan with a little more effort than was needed to flip the switches. Mac hopped up on the small counter in the bathroom and rose to her feet, leaning against the pebbled plexiglass that made up the shower surround she fished her cigarettes out of her pocket and quickly placed the black and gold filter between her lips as she lit up. She inhaled deeply and smirked at the curious look that crossed Tristan’s features.

“You live here long enough you learn to circumnavigate rules and procedures.” She said with a shrug as she blew a stream of smoke up into the vent.

11:04:36 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Stable, 620 Stewart Street, Downtown, Seattle

Tristan cocked his head to the side with a quizzical look on his face. Mac correctly deduced that it meant why are you explaining to me that you're a rule breaker?, although she wondered at his continued presence right outside the door. The moment passed through awkward to uncomfortable.

"What?" she finally asked, cigarette dangling from her lips.

"I have to pee," said the swordsman with a shrug. "Just waiting for you to finish."

"Ofercrissake," sighed Mac. She pinched out the cigarette with her fingers, tucking the usable remainder behind her ear and exciting the bathroom with a flourish. "The throne is yours."

Tristan curtsied before stepping inside and closing the door.

"I'm starting to think maybe he's the Other One," observed Frankie drily, leaning in the open doorway to her room. Mac threw up her hands in disgust. "You people are all incorrigible."

Mario glanced up at Frankie from where he sat on the couch. "She finally figured that out?"

"What, you thought people paid her for her brains?"

Mac punched her sister whore on her non-injured shoulder. "Hey!"

11:08:19 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Stable, 620 Stewart Street, Downtown, Seattle

Mac shook her head with mock indignation but it didn't last long as the smile on Frankie's lips was infectious and it spread amongst the trio until the three of them were laughing by the time Tristan stepped out of the bathroom, cocking his head quizzically as their giggles slowly faded. Mac's eyes flicked over towards the swordsman before they went back to Frankie and Mario.

"Guys, I need to get him out of here before he eats you out of house and home." She licked her lips and smiled towards Tristan purposefully feeding into Frankie's assumptions.

"Seriously though, you two look after one another ok? Call me if you need anything... I mean anything Frankie."

Her friend nodded a second before she hugged her fiercely, whispering in her ear.

"Be careful Mac." Frankie stepped back and reluctantly let her friend go. Mario stood up and offered his hand to Tristan as Frankie turned towards the swordsman with a smile. "It was great to meet you Tristan, promise me you'll keep her out of trouble, ok?"

11:08:19 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Stable, 620 Stewart Street, Downtown, Seattle

"Me?" Tristan laughed. "You say that as if she would ever listen to anything I say."

Mac shooed him out the door before he could say anything worse.

"You have good friends," observed the swordsman as they rode the elevator down.

"I've known Frankie for years. Sometimes she's the only thing that keeps me sane." Mac didn't want to dwell on it longer, The Stable still held too many bad memories for her, too much baggage still lurking in the unwashed corners of the building's hallways. She was glad to be out and into the brightness of the noontime sun, even if the wan light did nothing to offset the chill wind. She zipped up her jacket, then paused to light the interrupted cigarette.

"Where to now?" she asked.

"Warehouse," replied Tristan, opening the driver's side door. "Gotta get this food back to Kovacs and see what the results are from the rest of the team."

Mac nodded, taking a last drag from her cigarette before flicking the butt into the gutter.

11:51:27 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Kovacs very deliberately left his bao for last, a look of mournful delight crossing his face as he savored the sweet dough and tangy barbecue pork. Tristan was peeling an orange for himself, one of the last bits of fresh fruit in his stash. Mac sat perched on the hood of the truck, her legs hooked around Kovacs' waist while her arms rested on his shoulders.

"Drift and Suda are due back in half an hour or so, and I think they've got something for us," said the samurai, between bites.

11:57:19 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac smiled softly as she could practically feel Kovacs' enjoyment while she was wrapped around him and she leaned forward, her lips beside his ear as she whispered.

"They're almost that good, aren't they?"

Her legs tightened around his waist as one of her hands snaked around, her palm up in request as she shot a look towards Tristan.

"Spare a slice?"

Mac smiled like the cat that ate the canary as the swordsman begrudgingly handed over a perfectly peeled section of orange.

"Thanks for being a gentleman."

She couldn't help but chuckle as Tristan scoffed as she bit into the orange and had to stifle the soft moan as the juice hit her tongue. She couldn't remember the last time she had an orange and she took her time savoring it.

"So we got what we hoped for from O'Malley, any idea what Drift and Suda are bringing back?"

12:06:41 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

"A target," said Kovacs, the matter-of-fact tone in his voice chilling Mac. "Suda's text didn't elaborate but apparently we're not the only ones who've had a run in with the Winternight cells. It seems that multiple factions are at work trying to intercept, as well as aid and abet."

"Corporate?" asked Tristan. Kovacs nodded.

"It's across the board. The only time I remember seeing it like this was during the Mob Wars."

He finishes the last of his bao, before dusting his hands together. He rubs them across Mac's thighs before letting his hands rest on her knees.

"Make sure your P93 is ready to go. We're going to load heavy for this visit."

12:22:56 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Fighting the chill that ran through her, she managed a solid nod of understanding, all traces of joviality gone from her voice.

"Got it."

The reality that things were only going to get progressively more intense and more dangerous as they moved towards Wednesday morning was clarified with Kovacs’s choice of weaponry for the afternoon. As much as she didn’t want to disconnect from the samurai, she nudged him forward enough that she could slide off the hood of the truck.

Mac made her way over to where gear was neatly piled and retrieved the soft case that contained her P93 before laying it out on top of one of the many plastic totes that would function as a makeshift table. She decided to make the best use of the time waiting for Suda and Drift's return as she freed the weapon and ejected the magazine and carefully cleared the chambered round setting it along side the magazine. Drawing on Kovacs' instruction back at the house, she went over the weapon with slow, deliberate care readying it for whatever awaited them upon their teammates return.

Satisfied with her inspection, she reloaded the ejected round, reinserted the magazine and primed the weapon. She then replaced the P93 in the case and checked the pockets for the additional empty magazines as her eyes raked over the stack of gear looking for the proper ammo cans to load them.

12:37:28 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

It was entirely too long for Mac's comfort before the noise of the garage door opening announced the arrival of Suda and Drift. Both Tristan and Kovacs finished their gear up with smooth efficiency, lapsing into the casual restive awareness possessed by great hunting cats lounging in the heat of the veldt. She had no experience to fall back on, the heavier submachine gun weighing on her mind as it did on her shoulder.

As soon as the Roadmaster pulled into the warehouse, Mac was on her feet. She immediately regretted her motion as both of the others remained seated, knowing that they'd have to get the details from the advance team before a plan of action could be drafted. By accident or design, Suda was out of the Roadmaster before the heavy van was fully inside the warehouse, her eyes blazing. That unusual situation was enough to cover Mac's abortive movement.

"Multiple teams in town. They're setting up last minute distractions to hamper Lone Star. I think they're trapping the girls with bombs."

"That matches with what Mac saw last night," replied Tristan. Kovacs glanced at Drift, who nodded.

"All right, mount up. Drift, roll us in hot with overhead visuals. Suda, let's go with conceal from your spirits and save your concentration in case we need you to pull someone's finger off the trigger. Tristan, Mac, you're with me. We'll go in the front behind a flash-bang. Make sure your respirators are on. We'll assume Suda's intuition is correct and the girls are rigged to blow, so put your targets down quick, don't hesitate to shoot."

Suda nodded. "Goddamn right." She snapped her fingers, and one of her spirits shimmered into existence. Mac didn't hear her muttered command, but she saw the spirit nod and the ethereal creature proceeded to fix each team member with a momentary stare. She expected to feel something, but couldn't detect any change. She swallowed hard, following Tristan and Kovacs into the back of the Roadmaster.

12:31:19 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

As the rest of the team got settled in the back of the van, Mac found her seat and closed her eyes, trying to calm the emotions that stirred just below the surface. Thinking about how these Winternight cells were using her sisters and friends enraged her and she bit back the anger. She kept herself eerily silent and still as Drift maneuvered the Roadmaster towards their destination.

Everything about the ride was both foreign and yet becoming familiar all the same. She tried to pay attention to the limited conversation taking place around her, yet she was finding it hard to focus. Her new life was like a constant rollercoaster, and in a brief moment of clarity certain observations about her teammates snapped into focus. Why they were the way they were and certain quirks she had picked up on made a little more sense. For some reason or another the thoughts calmed her slightly and she refocused her attention on the conversation in the van.

12:51:08 Monday, 15 January 2063 - northwest bound I5 out of Tacoma, Seattle

Visuals coming up.

The meter square flat screen in the center console of the Roadmaster flickered simultaneously with Drift's statement, the usual status and navigation graphic replaced by real time overhead surveillance. Mac assumed it was from one of his drones, since the view responded to Kovacs' silent commands, rotating and zooming in. Several seconds passed, and data tags spangled the display. Other graphics rezzed in, a heavy dashed line representing the Roadmaster's approach, an icon for Suda with FOV overlay, as well as three more icons representing her, Kovacs and Tristan. The former had his Ares Alpha slung muzzle down across his chest, while the latter held a flash-bang grenade in his left hand. Mac's palms were sweaty and her stomach knotted. This was worse than last night. Not only did she know what was coming, she knew what would happen if things went wrong. She tried to swallow, only to find her mouth bone dry. Kovacs reached over and put his hand on her thigh. Though his face was iron hard, cold and impassive, the simple gesture managed to calm her racing heart.

13:12:46 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4071 Charter Road Unit 3, Downtown, Seattle

The sliding cargo door of the Roadmaster cammed open even before the vehicle was at a full stop, the cabin of the heavy truck filling with the chill winter wind. Kovacs and Tristan were out the door at a run in a move that bespoke years of practice. Mac was behind them as quickly as she could, feeling like a clumsy elephant as her submachine gun banged awkwardly against her armor. Kovacs slapped a dollop of foam explosives over the maglock on the door, curling back away from it to meet Mac, pinning her against the wall in a disturbingly familiar way.

Fire in the hole.

The breaching charge went off with a flat, electric snap, a halo of smoke rising into the air. Tristan tossed the flashbang through the slight opening, twisting away afterwards. The grenade detonated thunderously, and Mac's skin prickled with the memory of her experience just a night ago. Kovacs was already through the door, his assault rifle stabbing rounds downrange. The muzzle blasts sounded hollow and muted in the aftermath of the grenade. Mac moved behind him, the butt of her submachine gun snugged into her shoulder. Although she didn't remember him moving, Tristan was somehow in front of her, his body low as he wove past Kovacs, the long chrome sliver of his sword held behind him. Figures moved in the smoke and shadows, and someone was screaming. Mac shook her head, her vision crowded with data from Drift's overhead surveillance drone, as well as a remoted view from Kovacs' eyes. Desperately she wiped a hand through the air in front of her, clearing everything from her AR. Gunfire stabbed close at hand, rounds whining past her head. She ducked instinctively, seeking the comfort of the nearest wall.

Mac, check left, one shooter.

The command came via the team's net, the short electronic instruction anonymous but she knew it was from Kovacs. Shuffling forward, she twisted her body through the doorway on her left, leading with the stubby barrel of her submachine gun, eyes wide in an attempt to drink in all the possible information from the chaotic scene. Movement drew her attention as a shadowy figure rose from behind a cheaply upholstered chair, arms outstretched in a firing stance.

13:12:47 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4071 Charter Road Unit 3, Downtown, Seattle

Mac did her best to remember everything Kovacs had taught her that day on the range, pulling the butt of the weapon into her shoulder, her palms slick where they held the pistol grip and fore end. The green crosshair of her smart link jumped wildly over her target as she jerked the SMG into position and pulled the trigger. The recoil hammered her, muzzle flash bright from the gas vent on the barrel. The figure ducked instinctively, his gun discharging anyway. The bullet whined away somewhere, hopefully not where he was aiming. Mac slid further into the room, time moving in slow motion as she desperately sought cover of some kind. The figure turned faster, the muzzle of his pistol yawning wide.

Kovacs put six rounds from his Alpha through the figure's torso, responding automatically to the gunfire directed his way. Mac slid to a stop against the wall, watching as the body on the floor twitched spasmodically. The air was thick with combustion residue and dust from the concussion grenade, shaken loose from every surface, as well as the swirling vapors of propellent, and the harsh coppery scent of blood. Someone, somewhere was screaming.

"Clear?" asked Kovacs.

"Clear!" called Tristan from another room. "Clear!"

The tall samurai scanned the room he was in before looking at Mac. "Clear?"

She swallowed, her throat dry. The action threatened to empty her stomach. "Clear," she wheezed.

13:12:58 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4071 Charter Road Unit 3, Downtown, Seattle

In that instant, Mac was grateful for the wall behind her that was doing more to hold her up than her own legs. Her eyes were unfocused, staring at some unfixed point near the body that continued to bleed out in front of her. She was aware of Kovacs' proximity to her, still tense and on alert, and vaguely aware of Tristan elsewhere in the building and closing back in on their location. She tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling, an irrational anger mixing with her valid frustration as she realized once again Kovacs had to rescue her.

"How many were there? I want to know if the other one from the hotel was here, or if he's still out there." Unable to completely contain her emotions, her voice was edged and harsh.

13:13:41 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4071 Charter Road Unit 3, Downtown, Seattle

"Six, including the one you shot there," replied Kovacs, either unaware or uncaring that Mac had missed her assigned target. He was already moving back towards the rear of the building. "Watch the front."

Tristan came over the net. Actual, Two, we've got two survivors wired with explosive vests.

Kovacs paused, taking a step back. Two, Actual, hold 'em where they're at in case they're trapped. One, get your tools and get in here.

The tall samurai turned back to Mac. "Let's go, it's enough risk for two of the team."

She was about to object, angry and raw and adrenalized from combat, but the look on his face brooked no dissent. She followed him out through the ruins of the door, passing Drift halfway across the street. The rigger was unrecognizable behind his bulky armor, helmet, and face shield. He jogged past, a bulky duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Suda leaned out passenger side window of the Roadmaster, pillowing her head on her crossed arms.

"You buff him?" prompted Kovacs sharply. Mac got the impression he was unhappy with the shaman, who waved her hand languidly.

"Yep, he's primed."

Kovacs nodded, shuffling the magazines for his Alpha around on his battle belt. He glanced at Mac's SMG. "You reload?"

She shook her head, fumbling to eject the magazine from the buttstock of the weapon and replace it with a fully loaded one.

"Mother of FRAG!" she cursed as she dropped it. Kovacs glanced at her, then back towards the door of the building.

"Adrenaline closes off the small blood vessels in your extremities, robbing you of fine motor control," he commented tonelessly.

13:15:22 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4071 Charter Road Unit 3, Downtown, Seattle

Mac's mouth twitched as she bit back the words that jumped to her lips. Her view of Suda out of the corner of her eye helped keep her silent as she wasn't about to give the shaman the satisfaction of watching her come unglued. Instead she drew a set of long deep breaths until she gained a better handle on her emotions and her fingers regained some of their dexterity and she reloaded the magazine.

A mask of calm slipped over her features and she fed on the projected feeling until she actually started to believe it. Her eyes slowly swept across the front of the building and up and down the street as she closed the distance between her and Kovacs.

"Has he done this kind of thing before?" She asked quietly.

13:18:43 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4071 Charter Road Unit 3, Downtown, Seattle

"Once or twice," replied Kovacs, his voice tense. Mac glances at him, wondering what it was that had him on edge. She remembered, suddenly, that she had cleared all of her AR data. With a quick gesture, she echoed his display and felt her own guts tighten. Red carats only a few blocks away indicated Lone Star presence in response to the gunfire and explosions. She watched as Kovacs shifted the ride of his assault rifle, casually turning in place until he faced the most likely ingress route of the police cruisers. He didn't say anything over the team net, though. Mac assumed he was relying on the passive AR information update to highlight the threat, as well as not wanting to distract Drift in case he was in the middle of a delicate operation. Seconds ticked away.

Actual, Two, on our way out. Plus three.

Kovacs's rifle was at the low ready. "Get the door," he instructed Mac. "They may be injured and need help getting in."

She nodded, resentful for a moment at being delegated a menial task. But then the realities of the situation asserted themselves, and she realized that Kovacs was the only member currently equipped to deal with Lone Star should the cops arrive before the team was gone. Letting her submachine gun drop on its sling, she muscled open the sliding cargo door. Turning back towards the building, she was in time to see Tristan moving quickly across the parking lot, leading a trio of disheveled looking women. Drift brought up the rear, toolkit slung on his back and shotgun cradled in his arms. As the group neared, the last girl in line looked up to meet Mac's eyes, and both of them gasped.

"Anastasia?" exclaimed Mac.

13:19:57 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4071 Charter Road Unit 3, Downtown, Seattle

Mac found herself at a loss for words as her eyes met another familiar face and when the recognition hit she was struck with a new wave of emotion and the questions swam through her head.

Just how many girls did they grab over the past few days…

Mac forced herself to shake her head and step back when her friend went to embrace her. She could see the hurt cross her friend’s features followed by the confusion as she took in the sight of the SMG hanging at her hip. Mac knew their window for getting away cleanly was quickly disappearing just by the subtle shifts in Kovacs’s body language and the slight raise of his Alpha in her eyeline just over her friend’s shoulder and she wasn’t willing to jeopardize her team over a reunion with Holly Anne.

“Later. There isn’t time.”

Her tone was clipped, but the relief on her face betrayed her efficiency of ushering the girls into the back of the heavy van. Once they were inside she stepped aside as Tristan and Drift made their way inside and the rigger quickly cammed the door closed with urgency. Mac glanced over towards the tall samurai and before she could complete the short ‘They’re in,’ he was already in motion towards the driver’s side door. She ran to the passenger side and climbed up as Drift fired the heavy diesel engine. She was barely inside when they started away from the warehouse.