13:25:41 Monday, 15 January 2063 - I5 crosstown towards Tacoma, Seattle

The rescued women huddled in the back of the Roadmaster, faces stoic with the armor gained from the streets. Mac knew enough to see the fear and shock and relief beneath it, though, the emotions crushed down and hidden away in case a John or a pimp tried to use them against you. She reached over to Anastasia, grasping her hand.

"Hey, it's gonna be ok. These're the good guys."

Movement drew Mac's attention, and she watched as Kovacs traded a silent, instructional glance with Suda. The cat shaman nodded, reaching out towards Anastasia. Mac was confused, since she didn't see any injuries that required attention, before another, more invasive reason occurred to her.

"Wait!" She shifted, blocking Suda. She could feel the tight wing of tension that filled the van, but ignored it, knowing that she would never forgive herself if she let them treat Anastasia as an information resource to be plundered. She focused her attention on Ana, willing herself to ignore Kovacs' stare.

"Ana, the guys that were holding you, there are more of them out there. My friends and I are trying to stop them from hurting anyone else. We need your help."

Anastasia stared at her with wide eyes. "More?"

Mac nodded. "Yeah, but if we can ask you some questions, see what you remember, we can find 'em and stop 'em."

Her sister whore shrugged. "Sure, but I don't remember much, it all happened so quickly."

Mac touched her tongue to her lips, gesturing towards the cat shaman with her other hand. "Actually, Suda has a way to help you remember everything, even things you don't think you remember."

"Like hypnosis?" Anastasia seemed skeptical, despite Mac's enthusiastic nod.

"Yes, just like it. Are you willing to try?"

Ana shrugged. "Sure, I guess so."

Mac sat back, but continued to hold her hand. "That's my girl. I'll be right here with you the whole time."

Something tingled at the back of Mac's neck, like the brush of a spiderweb against her skin, before Kovacs' voice said that was good thinking in her mind. She wanted to shout in surprise, but managed to hold it to just a sharp breath.

Everyone's in the link, I'm going in, thought Suda. Mac watched the shaman touch Ana's shoulder, then reeled in momentary vertigo as another vision overlaid her sight. The street corner was vaguely familiar, several blocks from The Stable, a place Mac herself had worked. She watched as Ana checked her makeup in her commlink, strolling down the street, eyeballing cars. Her own practiced sense could tell when one was interested, how it slowed to check her over, nosing in to the curb, window rolling down, the casual start of negotiations. I'm new here/ need directions/ I'm looking for this party/ at this hotel... Ana's responses were subtle as well, enough to get the business across without crossing the line that vice could bust you for. Mac saw through her eyes as she evaluated the John, could read the subtle emotions that flickered through her sister whore's memories of the meeting. It all seemed safe, a lonely middle-aged guy in a used Ford Americar, certified cred for a quickie in a parking ramp or underneath a freeway overpass somewhere. Ana caught a quick photo of the guy, her commlink resting casually in her hand on the car door, sending it off to Wayne along with a quick text about taking the job. Good girl, though Mac. Ana climbed into the car, and it pulled away from the curb. She watched through Ana's eyes as everything about it changed, though, the man in the front seat shifting personalities like a chameleon. The Ana of last night knew it, too, surruptitiously reaching for her commlink. They were ready for her, though, someone in the back seat reaching around to jam a taser into her side, triggering a blinding flash of jagged white pain followed by a fade to black.

Peel it back to when she gets in. Kovacs.

The image rewound.

Stop. Step forward. Stop.

Mac saw it as soon as Kovacs stopped the image. Ana, knowingly or unknowingly, had gotten a good look at the navigation screen on the dashboard.

Drift?

Working. Someplace in Tacoma. East of the port, along Industrial Line Way.

All right. Head to the shelter. We'll drop them off and return to the warehouse. We'll need to get other assets on to try and narrow down the location.

Kovacs turned back in his seat, and the uncomfortable caress disappeared from Mac's neck. Suda smiled at Anastasia. "You did well, thank you."

13:31:22 Monday, 15 January 2063 - I5 crosstown towards Tacoma, Seattle

The use of Suda's invasive magic, no matter how successful, left a bad taste in her mouth and a lingering feeling of unease. Mac tried to stuff those feelings way down as she focused her attention on the girls with as reassuring squeeze to Ana's hand as she could manage. She felt the girl's arm go around her waist as she rested her head on Mac's shoulder with a weary sigh.

The experience of walking in Ana's memories was an immersion back into her old life that she hadn't been quite prepared for. It was far too familiar and yet in the same breath it left her uncomfortable, like she had done something she should feel guilty for. She squeezed her eyes shut as it was just one emotion too much for her to keep control of. He fingers of her free hand dug into the top of her leg as she did everything to hang on knowing falling apart would help no one.

As the van headed towards the drop off point for the girls, Mac regained a tenuous control and opened her eyes to try to place the other girls that had been rescued from the warehouse. The older of the two women looked like one of DeShawn's girls whose name she couldn't place. He would be happy to get her back, but would hardly be grateful upon her return. The other girl she didn't recognize, which wasn't a surprise given the depth of independent talent working Seattle's streets.

As she mulled things over, chewing on her lip as the only sounds in the van were road noise while conversations were being held silently over the network, Mac sent her own message to Frankie filling her in on picking up Ana and asking her to push out another warning to the network about these guys since it seemed they had no plans of stopping grabbing girls, and they may be getting even more desperate given their latest casualties. She begged Frankie to stay off the clock for as long as possible and to avoid any random or new clients for a couple of days.

She dialed back into the team's network as she shoved her commlink back into her pocket and took a deep breath, trying to release the weight that had settled in her chest.

14:19:38 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

It took a while for them to return to the warehouse, only in part due to the traffic. The shelter turned out to be the South Downtown mission run by the Church of the Lord's Way, a place Mac had been to once or twice before. She approved of the choice, and said as much to Kovacs, who indicated that it was Drift's decision. In any case, she'd made Ana swear to stay at the mission until Frankie and Mario came to pick her up. And then she made Mario swear to keep both girls off the street for the next few days.

She'd finished her business to find the Roadmaster pulling back into the warehouse, no different from when they'd left it earlier in the morning. Kovacs helped Drift reconnect all of the surveillance assets, while Tristan prowled around just to make sure no squatters had taken up residence in their absence. Mac waited for a quiet moment to insinuate herself into Kovacs arms. After a moment, she felt the tension ease in him, and his grip around her became possessive once more.

"What's next?" she asked, knowing he would already have a plan.

"Waiting," he replied. "Unfortunately it always takes time to develop information. You kind of have to let it ferment a bit before the good stuff bubbles to the surface. The trick is always timing. We've got queries out now, and I think Tristan is going out again in a minute. There's nothing more I can do until I get some calls back. So, we wait."

14:22:07 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

With his arm around her waist, and the way he drew her tighter against him as he relaxed ever so slightly Mac couldn't help but let her own body follow his lead. Waiting was never her strong suit and that was when she had a myriad of things to entertain her and keep her distracted. In the warehouse she had only one and she couldn't take advantage of it at the moment. She sighed softly against his chest and shook her head slightly.

"My favorite thing to do."

She pulled back slightly, a wry smile danced across her lips and she reluctantly stepped back just enough to keep her from wanting to stay pressed close to him and acting on her impulses.

"I don't mind staying and keeping you company, but if I can grab a little down time for myself I'd be all the better for it."

Truth was she was exhausted, the morning already catching up with her after only a few hours of sleep of last night and she could feel herself operating at minimal capacity at this point.

14:27:11 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Kovacs nodded. "Absolutely, rest now while you have a chance. I'll wake you if/when something pops up. The truck is open, it'll be quieter in there for you."

Mac smiled, already feeling the pull of the sleeping bag. She paused long enough to grab her pillow off her cot before climbing into the back of the truck and closing the door. Several minutes later she heard the Shadow's turbine fire up and the garage door roll up. She was tired enough, though, that she was asleep before it rolled back down.

17:37:38 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Once Mac had situated herself inside the truck, she kicked off her shoes and zipped herself up in the sleeping bag, grateful for the warmth that instantly surrounded her. As her physical body fell quickly into a deep sleep, her mind became a vast playground that her memories decided to torment.

The blue and silver corrugated siding on the exterior of the warehouse in Renton, the heavy front door, the gunshots that tore through it, the door as it flew open, the gun in her hands, the recoil. This time she stepped towards the door, looked inside and stepped into the darkness.

Stepping through the darkness she was taken back eight years walking into the studio apartment she shared with her mother, slipping behind the sheet that was meant to give her privacy but did no such thing. The smell of stale cigarettes and cheap cologne lingered in the air which meant he had been there recently and would likely be back all too soon. The need to take care of her mother as she was passed out in the middle of another bender and the sound of the locks on the door releasing and the dread that pooled in her chest.

Her mother’s motionless form sprawled out on the ratty mattress slowly morphed into Frankie’s body stretched out on the table. The studio apartment’s dinginess giving way to the crisp, bright, sterile environment at the clinic. The blood, the burns, the fear, the shadowy figure in the hallway.

"Come to daddy sugar, come sit in daddy’s lap"

The voice in the shadows crooned, the dirty, stubby fingers that gripped her wrist and pulled her against her will. Nicotine stained teeth, breath that smelled like damp rotting garbage. The friction of a wife beater that was sweat stained and tattered as it rubbed against her young skin. The sinister tone in his laughter as she continued to fight the inevitable.

Filthy hands that slid across the bare skin at her stomach, fastening some kind of clip at her side. A numerical display illuminating the first digit. Another clip on her other side snapped together with a sharp click. Another number. The weight of something on her chest that rose and fell with each terrified breath. Another click, another number. A beep that sounded a million miles away as her heart pounded in her ears. A slow countdown on the display, counting down to zero.

Mac clawed at the sleeping bag holding her prisoner, a scream stuck in her throat. It took her a few long moments to get her bearings, to realize she was in Kovacs' truck with the windows hazed over from her breath and not the warehouse in Renton. Not the apartment in Bitter Lake. Her hands were clammy and her breath was shallow, and came out in gasps. Her fingers fumbled with the door handle as she was desperate to get out, she felt like she was going to be sick.

Whether it was her movement in the truck or the strangled scream that caught in her throat that alerted him, as her fingers released the door handle Mac tumbled out into Kovacs' chest. Her eyes were wild and unfocused, her body desperate to run as he caged her between the open door and the truck itself. His lips moved but she couldn't focus on the words. His hands moved to her biceps to keep her from fleeing, his fingers tightening against her struggle which only made her try to wrench away from him even harder. It wasn't until Kovacs pushed her back hard against the truck that Mac's body suddenly went slack in his hold.

Blinking slowly she became fully aware of where she was and what had happened. Her eyes focused on a spot near their feet as her voice was laced with defeat, embarrassment and apologies and was barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry.. I.. That hasn't happened in..." She hesitated as she tried to remember the last time she had to chase away the nightmares with drugs and BTLs. "A very long time."

17:42:49 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Despite her fears, a quick glance around reveals that neither Tristan nor Drift seem aware of her nightmares. Mac scuffed her foot on the ground, waiting for the inevitable comment from Kovacs, the dry, acerbic observation derived from his own bitter experience that nevertheless left her feeling like a scolded child. His silence was unnerving, and she sighed, finally willing herself to meet his gaze. Which was full of a terrible sadness. Confusion clouded her mind, before a sudden memory bubbled to the surface.

Kovacs sat at the table, warming his hands against the steeping cup of tea. His face, although composed, still showed the after-effects of his nightmares. Mac watched and waited as the words formed on his lips.

"In the moment you do what you have to do in order to accomplish the mission, in order to survive. You eliminate, you kill who you have to, you commit the gear you have to, you leave behind the wounded if necessary. To haunt the shadows like a predator, you have to live the law of the jungle. But the shadows take their toll. They extract it, piece by piece, just a bite at a time. So you don't really see it, don't really feel it. Until it's too late. Until you have nothing left. No friends, no family, no lovers, no memories of anything but the shadows. Nothing of you but the claws and the fangs of a predator. Nothing human."

She looked up at him, realization in her eyes, although she was uncertain how much she could explain without dragging all of the ugliness in her past into the light.

"Tea?" asked Kovacs softly, holding out a disposable cup, steaming in the cool air.

18:03:16 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Something twisted inside her when she looked into his eyes, that sadness mixed with hints of something else that ran deeper and more hidden left her with the need to explain at least some part of what just happened. She wasn't ready to lay her soul bare, not even to him but she owed him something, to share enough to make him understand that her nightmares had very little to do with recent events, or with him, but with her completely fragged up past.

"Thanks."

She took the offered cup of warm tea and she inhaled the herbal warmth, trying to find the solace in it that Kovacs seemed to find. She stayed leaning back against the truck, her head back slightly as she scanned the ceiling for answers. The hair at the back of her neck was damp, her skin still sweat-drenched and it made her shiver with the chill of the warehouse despite the hot tea clutched in her hands.

"This," She found herself hesitating to explain, to find the right words, which wasn't like her at all. Mac dropped her gaze back to the cool grey of his eyes and found her courage there, and the story spilled from her lips. "This wasn't about the last few days, at least not more than the stress being a trigger, this was about my past."

She painted the picture for him of her life in the casinos for a little backstory, unsure of just how much he knew about her, or how much he might have had Isomer dig. The malice that slowly crept into her voice as she talked about her mother and then her drug use. The venom that laced her words when she spoke about Randy and life in the Bitter Lake apartment. She lost track of time as she spoke, condensing her life into quick short stories as Kovacs stood there, impassive and listening.

Her voice trembled as she laid the last card on the table, the one that felt like it was the dangerous key to explaining everything there was to know about her and why she was who she was. She had never really explained her past to anyone, not even the girls at The Stable in even the limited detail she was sharing with him.

"I was eleven, Kovacs. I was just a kid."

The cup in her had was cold, the tea long forgotten and she stood there before him feeling more naked and more vulnerable with him than ever. While she trusted him completely, she feared that her secret would drive a wedge between them or worse and he'd toss her away like everyone else had over the years. As he kept silent, his eyes never leaving her, she shook her head and already began to regret keeping true to her promise to herself not to keep anything from him. She sighed heavily in the prolonged silence between them and she started to push away from the truck, feeling her walls going up, armoring her against the pity or worse the rejection to come.

18:07:43 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac didn't have to wait for long after the last admission dropped from her lips. Kovacs enfolded her in an embrace, pulling her close to him with a gentleness she's rarely known. For a moment, he was silent, the dull thunder of his heart the only thing Mac cared to listen to as she pressed her head into his chest.

"There is nothing I can do that can wash away those scars," he whispered, drawing her memory back to the night so recently passed when he had claimed her for his own. "They are yours alone. But what I said still holds true. To me, I have washed away all that has come before. To me, you are untouched. Unmarked."

He lifted her chin as he spoke, and she blinked against the tears that glittered in her eyes. He kissed her.

"To me, you are beautiful."

18:13:39 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Her hands had rested on his chest, instinctively ready to push him away, but instead at his words her fingers tightened around the shirt he was wearing like it was a lifeline. Mac closed her eyes and let his statement sink in, a single tear escaping her dark lashes. She had heard those words from countless others in the past, but they had never sounded the same as they did when he said them. They never saw her vulnerable, never knew all her secrets and scars the way he did. It rooted somewhere deep inside of her and gave her hope.

“Thank you,” She whispered as she opened her eyes, a hint of a soft smile turning up the corners of her mouth. “For so many things.”

Her fingers slowly loosened their grip on his shirt as she rested her palms against his chest once again to rise up on her toes and brush her lips against his. It was the first step she needed to pull herself together before she forced herself to pull away and move to sit in the open door of the truck to settle her holster again at her hip and pull her boots back on. She looked up as her hair fell forward around her.

“Now that we’ve had enough of the soap opera otherwise known as my past, I suppose it’s time to get back to work. Don’t suppose we’ve heard anything?” Her sardonic humor was as much a shield to her still raw emotions as anything and she stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. She hardly felt refreshed after all that had taken place, but she had no interest in trying to go back to sleep for the time being.

18:31:06 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

"We've got someplace identified, but Tristan isn't back yet," replied Kovacs, his own armor once more sliding into place. He picked up Mac's cup of tea, took a sip, and grimaced at the taste.

"It's never as good outside of a ceramic mug," he sighed. Mac arched an eyebrow, but didn't comment. The tea had tasted fine to her while it was warm, she'd assumed that his expression was a result of the temperature. She stood and stretched, belatedly realizing that Kovacs' truck was the only vehicle in the warehouse.

"Where's Drift?" she asked, curious as to why he'd only mentioned the swordsman.

"Out," replied Kovacs curtly, moving over to the surveillance console. Mac followed, mostly out of lack of anything else to do. She glanced aside towards the cots, assuming that the lone occupant there was the only team member unspoken for. Kovacs set the cup of tea down on the floor next to the heat sink of the computer.

"But we've got eyes on the building where we think they're based out of," he said, gesturing to the feed streaming on the monitor. Mac leaned in for a better look. The building was large, that much was certain, some kind of industrial plant. The western end was a mass of piping and conduit of unknown purpose, while the eastern block was boxed in by large panels of structural construction plastic. It had to be at least five stories tall.

"What's it used for?"

"Refinery of some kind," replied Kovacs, occupied on another screen. "Not a lot of info available on the public net. Owned by Shiawase. Supplied products to half a dozen smaller corporations in the greater Seattle metroplex. Shutdown around four years ago and slated for redevelopment. Obviously those plans are on the slow roll."

Mac searched for a way to voice her concerns without actually asking a question that would make her sound like a newbie. Then she realized she was a complete newbie.

"It seems too large for us to search on our own."

"Yeah, if we had to do it physically," agreed Kovacs. "But Suda's spirits can speed that time up by an order of magnitude. We'll still have to be careful, though, when moving through so we don't get outflanked. As long as we move quickly we should be all right."

He glanced over at her. "Bring your subgun again."

Mac nodded, her mouth going dry as memories of the earlier gunfight flickered through her mind.

Actual, Two, inbound.

Kovacs turned to cover the door, his Alpha at the low-ready. Mac hadn't even noticed the assault rifle until then. The garage door rolled up, admitting the Shadow at full speed. The samurai waited until the door was fully closed again before letting his rifle drop back. By the time he turned back, Tristan was already out of the car, the last of a chili dog disappearing into his mouth. Kovacs tilted his head.

"Don't worry, I brought some for you, too." Tristan smiled. Mac correctly read the mild annoyance in the set of the samurai's mouth.

"I'm more interested in your info," said Kovacs.

18:33:28 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

She had asked to go back to business, but the immediacy in which it happened still left her a little spun around. She resigned herself that this was the way it would be going forward and the sooner she could accept it as normal, the better off she would be. It felt good to be able to talk through things about the location and even a little about the plan for how they were going to search it, kept her fear from overwhelming her. She modified her incoming feeds and data to include the view of the refinery in the corner of her vision, waiting and watching for anything that may happen off site while they waited.

She couldn't stop herself from tensing visibly as Kovacs readied his Alpha and Tristan brought the Shadow to an intense stop inside the warehouse. She barely relaxed when the rifle returned to its standby position and Tristan rolled out of the sportscar shoving food in his mouth.

Mac's mouth curled up in a slight smirk as she shook her head at the swordsman, the interplay between the two men following its usual pattern, Tristan's irreverence butting heads with Kovacs' seriousness. Only this time there was a lingering amount of tension that still crackled between her and the samurai, and she knew Tristan was attuned enough to catch it. Her eyes wandered back to the live feed of the refinery on the display before moving back to Tristan her brow arched waiting to hear the info he was holding back.

18:41:52 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Despite his earlier comment, Kovacs didn't refuse the chili dog that Tristan passed to him before flopping down into the opposite chair of the console.

"Multiple cells confirmed. I talked to both Demetria and Slater. We're not the only ones to have run across Winternight. Plus it seems like there are runners working both for and against them. Slater said the jobs were corporate, freelance, and mercenary. That's a spread I haven't seen since the Mob wars. I think we might be thinking about this backwards. I don't think de Medici is using Winternight, I think he's taking advantage of a simultaneous operation by them to run his own operation, letting them either add noise to the signal or possibly set them up to take the blame for the fallout."

Kovacs chewed thoughtfully. "If that's so, then it removes them from immediate threat status. However, then the question becomes, what is Winternight's target? What's their play?"

Tristan shrugged. "Got me, boss. If it was one cell, then I might be inclined to say an assassination of some kind, or possibly a raid for resources, either money or weaponry. But this many cells all operational at the same time in the same location? Got to be bigger than that."

The two men brooded in silence, Kovacs finishing his chili dog with a couple of large bites. Tristan frowned, rummaged through his pockets, and came out with an apple which he cheerfully bit into. The tall samurai slid his arm around Mac's waist, hugging her hip against his shoulder. After a moment, she let her fingers curl into the hair at the base of his head.

"What if it's a big assassination? Or a big monetary gain?"

Kovacs glanced up at Mac, then sat up straight. Tristan beat him to it, though.

"The Nanosecond buyout."

"de Medici brought them in with a promise of making millions in one night of anarchy. He's going to sabotage the corp from the inside to let Winternight make the stock sale. If that's true, though, then we're almost back to square one. If de Medici isn't making money on the extraction, what's his endgame? He's gotta be in it for something more than just breaking out of the corporate cage." Kovacs voice dropped to the inflectionless tone that Mac associated with his attention being elsewhere. She guessed he was routing questions in his AR. Probably to Isomer. Tristan took another morose bite of his apple.

"Man, I can't wait for this job to be over."

18:46:217 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac felt her lips compress at Tristan's statement as she carried a bit of trepidation at the thought of what came after the job, how things might change, would change if they made it out alive. Her fingers continued to massage a relaxing rhythm at the back of Kovacs' neck that she found as calming as the feeling of his hand resting on her hip.

"What if de Medici hit the glass ceiling so to speak with the Yamatetsu, nowhere higher to go than he's attained? What if he's doing more than just aligning his operation with Winternight's plans. What if he's aligning himself with Winternight itself? We already have a good idea of the damage that is possible in Tacoma with just de Medici's plan as it stands."

She shot a pointed stare at Tristan before she continued.

"O'Mally said it himself that something like that would effect his interests down at the docks... You both have brought up the Mob Wars a couple of times now. What if that's the bigger endgame? Destabilizing the organized crime scene throughout Seattle, de Medici is power hungry and megalomaniacal, and he already thinks too highly of himself. If flooding Tacoma puts the squeeze on the Mafia, who's to say Winternight doesn't have plans to put the screws to the Triads, the Vory and the Yakuza while they're at it. I wouldn't put it past him to make a power grab because if he's successful..."

She shrugged slightly realizing her mouth had run away with her again.

18:58:39 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Kovacs cocked his head to the side in thought, but Tristan shook his head.

"Not particularly feasible. There are already other, more established criminal syndicates in Seattle that would act to fill the power gap. Both the Yakuza and the Vory have a strong presence in the metroplex, right behind the Mafia. And despite their recent losses, the Triads are still a force to be reckoned with."

He turned back towards the taller samurai. "I still assess that de Medici and Winternight are cooperating out of opportunism and that each has a separate endgame in mind."

Kovacs nodded. "That fits with the data we have on hand, but I'm not convinced that we're seeing ground truth. Unfortunately, I don't think we have time to peel the layers on the onion due to the timeline of the operation. I also believe that the operational compression is a deliberate act on de Medici's part to assist in obfuscating his ultimate plans."

"Concur," replied Tristan. "So what's our play?"

"We move. We'll wait until Drift returns and then pack up this location. We'll head towards the back-up one that we scouted last week and make sure no one's squatting on it. I've got inquiries out to Isomer, hopefully that'll give us a few more data points to isolate the variables and answer the equations. But I want us on low-ready at all times. Our raid on the Winternight cell has probably raised our profile and people are liable to start asking questions. No one out alone and armed at all times. Copy?" Kovacs glanced first at Tristan and then at Mac, who nodded silently while her guts twisted uncomfortably.

19:06:01 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac was once again reminded of just how out of her league she was as Tristan was quick to point out the ways her thoughts weren't near the mark. She tried to keep her face neutral and emotion out of it but the rawness of before still lingered and she was too sensitive. When she knew her mask was slipping, she freed herself from Kovacs' fingers still sprayed against her hip and took a step away from the pair and towards the cots.

"I think I'll get a jump on packing things up."

She stepped behind the sheeted plastic wall, keeping as quiet as possible as Suda was still curled up around herself on one of the cots in the opposite corner from hers. She started repacking her things, creating separate piles for her things and her gear and she was struck with a couple of thoughts that overlapped almost instantly as she started repacking her separate bags. Her two piles of things represented her life, before and after the events at Shatter, and there was a clear distinction between the two. As she shoved her things from her apartment deeper into a bag, her breathing quickened and shallowed, her fingers tightened their grip on the handles as she was struck with a sudden and growing desire to run.

Mac's eyes darted about the space and she tossed a couple glances over her shoulder as she tried to dismiss the thought and to stop her hands from trembling.

"Pull your drek together girl." She whispered with a hiss of anger at herself.

19:21:09 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac rubbed her hands together, trying to work out the fluttering tension that gripped her muscles. She wanted so badly to break for the back door, to flee into the welcoming darkness of the city, lose herself amidst the neon shadows she knew so well. Down there, amidst the noise and press of bodies she could forget everything, forget what she had become, what she had done, what she had lost, and what she had cost others. Memories of last night came crashing back on her, the savage devouring explosion of the warehouse, and the look in Frankie's eyes as she bled in the backseat of her dead lover's truck.

"N-n-n-n-n..." she stuttered to herself, squeezing her eyes shut as she fought down a wave of nausea. Noise intruded on her as the garage door scrolled up, admitting the Roadmaster into the warehouse. Suda stretched, poking one hand and one foot out from her cocoon of blankets. Mac swallowed, suddenly in control again. She finished jamming her gear into her pack before cinching down the compression straps and carrying it out into the main area. Kovacs and Tristan had been busy while she packed, recovering the team's surveillance gear and stowing it for travel. Clearly Drift had been advised of the plans since he didn't seem surprised at all, backing the Roadmaster into position to receive the lion's share of the gear.

Mac stowed her gear in the back of Kovacs' truck before helping break down the cots and camping gear. Suda somehow managed to get all of her stuff into an amazingly compact bundle in the back of the Roadmaster in less than five minutes. Both Kovacs and Tristan made the rounds of the warehouse with spray bottles of bleach, making sure that nothing was left behind and than any trace evidence was likely ruined.

The team gathered once they were finished, and Kovacs opened a shared AR window.

"New target," he said, nodding once in apology to Drift for what Mac assumed was wasted surveillance.

"I put out a bunch of RFIs to Isomer on what we've found out about de Medici and Winternight. You've all seen the raw intercepts so you know what our suspicions are. Further, Tristan has details from his sources that there's more forces than that on the playing field. I think we've attracted their attention, which is why we're shifting locations. Also, I think they're trying to close information leaks. Isomer reports that he's lost contact with several of his information brokers, one of which is here in Seattle. We're going to check the location of his contact to see if it's a result of hostile action or something more mundane. We'll drop the vehicles off at the new safe house and roll in the Roadmaster. Based on this info, though, I want everyone on combat footing. We move in twos or not at all, and keep your comms open. Clear?" Kovacs made eye contact with everyone on the team. Suda shrugged and nodded. Tristan gave a single nod.

"Crystal," replied Drift, with a bit of relief in his voice. Mac nodded as well.

"All right, people, let's roll." Kovacs pointed Mac towards his truck, while Tristan climbed into the Shadow. Drift and Suda were already in the Roadmaster. The three vehicles pulled out of the warehouse in smooth formation, disappearing into the gathering darkness.

19:52:17 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

As the truck started to weave its way out of the industrial park and away from the warehouse, the pair descended into silence and not one of their comfortable variety when they’d been in the truck together. Mac's body still pulsed with tension, frustration and bad memories, and Kovacs' Alpha braced against the dashboard wasn't helping.

She drew her knees up to her chin, her arms holding herself in place, the heels of her boots on the edge of the seat as she watched out the windows. She watched as the team kept Tristan in the middle of the rolling caravan no matter the distance the pushed and pulled between the three vehicles, Drift in the lead and the truck bringing up the rear.

The drive was precise and practiced and made Mac ever more aware of how all new this life was to her and it made feel like she was inadequate. That was, as she contemplated, what was behind her want to run. This was trial by fire, no room for mistakes and her learning curve was steep. She put her head against her knees and metered her breathing, drew on her experience of meditation and yoga, forcing herself into a state of calm.

When she looked up again she was drawn out of her head by the acceleration of the truck as Kovacs was taking the lead in the train of vehicles. Mac was fairly certain they were drawing close to the location because as they continued on, she’s convinced she's seen the same landmarks via different street patterns at least a couple of times. Kovacs was likely casing their location, watching for trouble much like he did the night with de Medici after the trip to Inspire.

"We're getting close?"

20:00:37 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 17030 228th Ave NE, Redmond Seattle

Kovacs nodded, his hand twitching to send an icon to her feed. Mac didn't tell him that she'd cleared her AR when she'd woken up, silently bringing it live now to ascertain the information the tall samurai had shared. False color overlays sprang to life in her view, and she realized that her intuition was correct. The drab cluster of buildings they'd passed on the right twice was their ultimate destination. The wreckage of a sign advertised it as some kind of truck inspection or weigh station, the long narrow bay that Kovacs pulled into confirming it. The heavy truck pushed aside several bales of trash, clearing the way for the Shadow.

Both vehicles parked while the Roadmaster idled outside in the parking lot. Kovacs unlatched his rifle and handed it to Mac.

"Head back to the Roadmaster, I've got a chore to take care of."

Wordlessly she nodded, slinging the rifle over her shoulder and climbing out of the truck. Tristan was waiting for her, leaning against the Shadow while he munched on a bag of pretzel twists. She declined the implicit offer of food, and he followed her to the Roadmaster. A soft hissing noise drew her attention, though, and she glanced back towards the truck. Kovacs was using a spray can of some sort to lay down a thick bead of gray foam on the metal door that closed the end of the bay. He roughed out a large rectangle, large enough for the truck to drive through, before X-ing across it. Mac shivered at the sight, realizing he was rigging the door with explosives that would cut an escape route out of the safe house. She climbed into the Roadmaster. Kovacs joined the team moments later, the one functional garage door scrolling closed behind him.

"All right, let's roll."

20:11:08 Monday, 15 January 2063 - northbound Hwy 9 into Everett Seattle

The mood in the van was tense, even more so than before. Mac could tell that the uncertainty of the situation was wearing even on the veterans. Information flowed into the AR, Kovacs updating the target location with information from what she assumed was Isomer, as well as overhead feed from Drift's drones.

"Console cowboys always live in the same dumps," observed Tristan drily. "I'm positive it appeals to their ancient ideas of dystopian future war hackers."

Mac glanced aside at the swordsman, but found his eyes were just as deliberately dissecting the images as everyone else. The building in question was a conglomeration of prefab blocks, stitched together with cables and piping, washed brown by years of exposure to acid rain and pollutants. Lights burned in a dozen of the units, and according to both the faded sign out front and the infographics dotting the AR, they were lofts and two bedroom domiciles rehabbed from the original industrial purpose of the building.

The AR overlay of the building peeled back the walls and ceiling, showing a wireframe diagram of the interior synthesized from online photographs, blueprints, as well as extrapolation. Their destination was a second floor unit, on the southeastern corner of the building, but fully enclosed by the other units of the building. The interior of the building was a quasi-maze of stairwells and hallways, definitely looking to Mac as a means to get into a world of hurt quickly. She looked over at Kovacs, waiting for the samurai to poll the team and identify their means of attack.

20:14:12 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Northbound Hwy 9 into Everett, Seattle

Mac's eyes traced through the skeleton of the building, biting back a curse or two as she quickly lost her chosen path and could see how easy it would be to get turned around once inside or worse get cut off in countless dead ends if you weren't paying full attention. She shook her head as she turned her pointed gaze towards Kovacs.

"That is one giant cluster inside. Can't we go in with Drift's drones, or Suda's spirits? At least initially?"

20:18:14 Monday, 15 January 2063 - westbound Hwy 2 into Everett Seattle

"I'll do one better," replied Suda, before the samurai could answer Mac. "I'll be doing a full astral recon once Drift puts us hull down somewhere. But that just gives us an idea of who's around. I won't be able to divine much of what happened inside, assuming that something has happened."

"Pretty safe going in assumption," added Tristan, before manipulating the AR diagram. "Top down?"

Kovacs nodded. "It'll have to be, can't come in from the windows. Can you get us a better view of the elevator shafts?"

The last question was directed towards Drift, but Kovacs backed it up with a highlight tag in the AR.

Standby. Inbound

As Mac watched, the live overhead view of the building rotated, then stabilized, locked on to the area indicated by Kovacs. The view zoomed in by a factor of four, going grainy as a result of the distance and intervening chemical haze. As the drone descended and accelerated, the details resolved themselves, helped along by the digital processors mounted in the onboard surveillance package. The drone flashed overhead the building at dizzying speed, noticeable only by the way the view reoriented itself as the camera turret slewed to keep the highlighted area locked in. Kovacs pulled out several stills from the video feed, pushing them to the AR as Drift returned the drone to its looping overhead orbit.

"Looks doable," commented Tristan. "I'll get the gear ready."

Kovacs nodded. "Don't forget the forensics kit. I want to be able to sweep the place as soon as we're inside. No reason to spend more time on this ground than necessary."

20:19:47 Monday, 15 January 2063 - westbound Hwy 2 into Everett Seattle

She watched the drone's feed as it descended with speed and she tried not to let it disorient her. She studied the stills Kovacs pulled and instead of trying to validate whatever it was the Tristan had already found acceptable, she studied the rest of the image, the perimeter of the roof that was visible in each still, getting a lay of the land and what their exposure might be.

Mac held back a smirk as her raised brow asked the silent question that she was fairly certain she already knew the answer to, if Drift and Suda were staying on the outside, she assumed the three of them would be going in. She cast her gaze between the two men and waited for their directions.

20:26:53 Monday, 15 January 2063 - westbound Hwy 2 into Everett Seattle

Tristan moved past Mac, into the rear of the Roadmaster. He rummaged through the gray utility lockers bolted to the back, pulling out several lumpy duffel bags onto the floor. From them he retrieved a web of nylon strapping that he separated into several harnesses. He tossed two to Kovacs, the tall samurai offering one to Suda. The shaman sniffed at it with disdain, but Kovacs gave her a look and she relented with a desultory sigh. The two of them stepped into the harnesses, and Mac realized that they were climbing/rappelling harnesses. Tristan was still laying out gear on the floor of the Roadmaster, bags and clips that Mac assumed were part of the climbing gear. He tossed another assemblage of straps into her lap, and she held it up uncertainly. Kovacs appeared in front of her, taking the harness and reorienting it.

"Step in here," he instructed, holding open the leg holes. She complied, and he worked the harness over her hips, rapidly cinching down the belt and straps.

"Make sure your straps are tight," he advised quietly, in teaching mode again. "You might need to load the harness quickly and don't want anything to get pinched."

"Sucks more when you're a guy," threw in Tristan, still laying out gear. Mac could only imagine. Kovacs hooked his fingers through the front loop.

"This is your main weight bearing point, you can also lift from the two rear loops here. Never run the rope directly through the loops, though, it's too much friction and it'll saw through your harness in a minute."

Tristan lofted something through the air and Kovacs caught it left handed, snapping it through the front loop on Mac's harness.

"Spring lock carabiner. Rated for twenty five kilonewtons. They have heavier ones for orks and trolls, it's pretty hard to mix them up but it never hurts to double check. You can work the lock with just one hand, just twist and open."

The tall samurai demonstrated a couple of times, before reaching back to Tristan again for something else. Mac snapped the carabiner open and closed herself to get used to the action. Kovacs waited for her to be done before taking a turn of electrical tape around the spine of the carabiner and the main belt of the harness.

"Keeps it from flopping around and getting in the way, but easily breaks loose with a sharp tug," he explained. She watched as he fixed his as well, although his carabiner was attached to the rear of his harness. Tristan passed him an armful of gear and he wordlessly began strapping it to his harness.

20:29:26 Monday, 15 January 2063 - westbound Hwy 2 into Everett Seattle

Mac couldn't help but feel her breath catch for an instant as Kovacs tightened the straps on her harness, her eyes darkened as her thoughts were instantly full of the memory of rope against her skin, of nights prior. Tristan's flippant remark forced her to breathe through a soft chuckle as she shook her head and focused her attention on Kovacs' continued instruction.

Adrenaline prickled beneath her skin as her mind was processing the evening's events with a different focus. She was falling into some level of comfortability with the team, stripping away her feelings of vulnerability for her lack of experience and replacing it with the importance of following their lead, relying back on her street instincts and Kovacs' instruction. She still felt on edge, but it was more from anticipation of what was to come than from fear.

She looked up at Kovacs as Tristan continued to sort gear behind them on the floor of the van.

"So outside of going in from above, what's our plan?"

20:34:17 Monday, 15 January 2063 - southbound I5 into Everett, Seattle

"Flexible," replied Kovacs. "Not quite sure what we're going to find once we're on the ground so we'll have to play it a bit by ear. Stay loose and keep your eyes open. We might have to leave in a hurry and it might not be the same way we came in."

"How are we getting in?" she asked.

"Up to the roof and then down through the elevator shaft. We'll use the maintenance hatch at the top of the shaft and rappel down to the appropriate floor. Assuming the elevators not in the way."

The tall samurai had finished adorning himself with the various odd bits handed over by Tristan, topping it off with slinging his Ares Alpha so it hung muzzle down beneath his right arm. Over it all went his slate gray long coat, and Mac was surprised by how well camouflaged all the equipment was. The coat still bulged in places, but it wasn't immediately obvious that the samurai was loaded for bear. With his respirator and goggles on, though, he presented an ominous figure. Minutes later he was joined by Tristan, also clad in a long coat that concealed an unknown amount of gear. The two exchanged a ready glance before Kovacs turned his attention once more to Mac, making sure her gear was setup in a way he approved. He also used the moment to grope her ass through her cargo pants, and she gave him a look of indignant exasperation before groping him back. She could tell from the way his cheeks moved that he was smiling, and he stayed standing close, arms braced against the seat beside her, though the remainder of the trip.

"When we get to the hatch, Tristan will go first, then Suda, then you. I'll clip you into Tristan's line with a descender that'll do most of the work for you. Just sit back into the harness and squeeze to go down, release to stop." Kovacs spoke quietly, just for her to hear.

"I could wait in the truck," replied Mac, suddenly a little nervous about the whole idea. The tall samurai shook his head.

"We learn by doing."

20:41:53 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 10808 S. Baker St, Everett, Seattle

Mac was a little surprised to see Suda duck out the door as the Roadmaster came to a halt in the alleyway behind the building. Neither Kovcas nor Tristan commented on it, so she guessed it was part of the plan. Actually, once she focused on the data tags in the AR overlay, she could see what the movement vectors were and how they included everyone on the team save Drift. She moved to the outside point in the diamond specified, with only a cursory glance from Kovacs to indicate he'd noticed her hesitation. The Roadmaster continued down the alleyway, its side door gliding shut. Mac felt the briefest of touches on her arm as Suda made physical contact before the four of them rose silently into the air. Mac instinctively reached for something, her legs starting to cycle, before Kovacs slipped an arm around her waist. The tall samurai remained silent, though, his head scanning constantly.

Suda held them a meter off the rooftop for several seconds, long enough for Mac to wonder before setting the team down as gentle as rain. Tristan and Kovacs moved immediately towards the misshapen hatch which crowned one of the central elevator shafts. Suda strolled after them, although Mac could tell that her air of casual indifference was entirely feigned. A light sputtered in the darkness momentarily as Tristan cut through the bars used to lock the hatch closed. Mac divided her time between watching the surrounding buildings and watching what the swordsman was doing.

Tristan worked quickly, using a small aerosol can of lubricant to oil the hinges on the opposite side of the hatch before wedging the end of his thick bladed utility knife beneath the hatch coaming and levering it up. The hatch groaned and grated, but the sounds were barely noticeable over the background noise of the city. Kovacs caught the hatch with his left hand while Tristan stuck his head through the opening, scanning passively at first and then with a white light. With a suddenness that Mac wasn't expecting, he dropped through the hatch and into the darkness of the shaft. Kovacs, his right hand on the pistol grip of his Alpha, nodded towards Suda, who dropped into the shaft with as little ceremony as Tristan had.

Mac didn't wait to be called, stepping to the edge of the hatch as Kovacs pulled something from within his coat and clipped it to the carabiner on her harness.

Sit. came the electronic instruction. She did so, dangling her legs into space. She could see the thin tracery of the rappelling line that Tristan was using, taut and vibrating as the swordsman descended into the dimly lit shaft. Kovacs snapped the descender onto the line, yanking down on it to ensure that it was seated properly.

All set. Swing out onto the line. Squeeze it SLOWLY to descend.

20:42:41 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 10808 S. Baker St, Everett, Seattle

Mac nodded, her heart beating wildly as her legs dangled in the darkness below her. She hesitated only for an instant, not wanting an electronic lecture from above and not wanting to delay what they had come here to do. She slid off the ledge and breathed a quick sigh of relief when her minimal weight caught on the line. Her fingers wrapped around the descender and she slowly applied pressure as she was told until she could quickly get a handle on controlling her speed and she started descending the line. She could feel her pulse steady as she regulated her breathing and as she slid further into the inky darkness of the elevator shaft she glanced up at Kovacs and smiled before she squeezed her fingers a little tighter.

20:44:11 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 10808 S. Baker St, Everett, Seattle

There was enough ambient light leaking through the seals of the elevator doors that Mac's low-light turned the shadows into daylight. She could clearly see Tristan and Suda below her, the former dangling on the same line while the latter sat leaning against the wall, apparently asleep. She felt a change in the air around her, and Kovacs whistled past at almost free fall speed, face down with his Ares Alpha trained on the designated door. A gossamer thin cable payed out from the rear of his harness, leaving both of his hands free to wield the weapon. He slowed as he neared the other two, until he came to halt, swinging over to the opposite side of the door from Tristan. Mac arrived some thirty seconds later, smart enough to continue the same slow, deliberate descent she was comfortable with. Tristan unclipped from the line, helping her into a position along the shaft's structural supports. Suda stirred to life, blinking and rubbing her face.

Team, Three, astral is clear, nothing living inside the apartment, hallway is clear.

Mac glanced at Suda, since her icon highlighted itself in her AR as being the originator of the message. She'd heard the team refer to themselves as numbers before, but the convention had never been explicitly explained to her.

Kovacs glanced around, pointing to himself, then to Suda, then Mac, and finally Tristan.

Ready? he asked silently.

One. Drift's icon strobed in Mac's AR, temporarily highlighting itself green.

Two.

Three.

Four. Mac met Kovacs' glance, and felt not a small amount of pride at his nod of approval. Tristan took it as an execute signal, levering open the doors of the elevator shaft. They moved with deliberate stealth this time, rather than speed as they had during the assault on the warehouse. Kovacs cleared both ends of the hallway before moving through the open doors towards the left. Suda followed, then Mac, doing her best to move quietly, watch every direction, and keep her weapon at the low ready. She managed one, maybe two of the three.

20:58:27 Monday, 15 January 2063 - westbound Hwy 2 into Everett Seattle

The trio moved with the ease and fluidity of well-practice precision, while Mac did her best to acclimate and fall in step with their lead. She kept her attention split between the team's AR, and the various doors and hallways they passed despite Suda's assurances the hallway they were in and eventually the apartment they were headed towards were clear.

While their entry through the elevator shafts had gotten them to their intended floor, they still need the thread their way through the building itself a ways to reach the target apartment. As they pushed in further, she watched as the wireframe of the building changed in her view as they passed where a door should have been, but where a solid wall now stood. She was grateful for the immediate updates in case she needed to rely on the plans to get out on her own.

Their forward progress slowed as they approached the door, Kovacs keeping point and clearing the opposite end of the hallway before they stood outside the door and began to make their way inside.

21:07:39 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 10808 S. Baker St, Everett, Seattle

Before the team made it to the final corridor, they were joined by one of Suda's spirits, the oversized cat padding along behind them silently. It coiled itself around the shaman's legs, its other-wordly eyes staring at Mac. She ignored it as best she could, focusing instead on Kovcas and Tristan. The tall samurai knelt in front of the door, skillfully manipulating the maglock casing with a pair of tools drawn from a small pouch on his web gear. The plastic casing popped open and he slid backwards as if it were a cobra about to strike.

Team, Actual, lock's been tampered with. Someone's been here before us.

The samurai glanced at Suda who nodded, quickly seating herself cross-legged before closing her eyes and slumping against the wall. Kovacs gestured to Mac, and then towards the end of the hall. Mac blinked, then gave a quick nod of understanding, going down on one knee with her submachine gun at the ready, hoping that was the gist of his silent instruction.

Suda opened her eyes. Team, Three, don't see anything that looks like a trap.

Kovacs nodded, gesturing Tristan to the other side of the door. Then, with one swift movement, he kicked in the door. The thin construction plastic panel flew off its hinges, an effect Mac was sure had more to do with previous damage than with the samurai's strength. The unexpected occurrence didn't slow Tristan at all, the swordsman ricocheting through the opening at sprinting speed. Kovacs followed an instant later, leaving the hallway suddenly empty save for Mac and Suda. The shaman slid through the door with feline grace, more businesslike and alert than Mac has ever seen her.

Mac stepped through the door, finding Tristan coming back at her quickly. She moved aside, and he lifted the door panel back into place, propping it in the jamb. Enough light still spilled through the cracks that her low-light functioned perfectly, and she glanced around the wreckage of the main room with a mix of curiosity and foreboding.

21:09:03 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 10808 S. Baker St, Everett, Seattle

Kovacs appeared through the doorway separating the living area from the bedroom, his Alpha resting muzzle down across his chest on its sling. Mac glanced at him, her equilibrium off. A strange smell permeated the air of the small apartment, a mixture of vaguely unpleasant odors that rankled the animal part of her mind.

"Clear," he reported. "Toss it quick but be thorough. I don't want to spend more than ten minutes on the ground here. Look for anything that might point to connections, drop sites, bolt holes. Two, Five, get the bedroom. And watch your step here."

The samurai gestured to an area off to his left, although Mac couldn't make out what he was cautioning them about. Tristan thumped her on the shoulder with his fist.

"C'mon, our fearless leader wants to starve me by keeping me out of the kitchen."

Suda was already rummaging through the cupboards. "Yeah, like that's going to happen."

Kovacs had another kit out, kneeling on the floor of the living area. Mac suddenly identified what he had cautioned them about, the sources of at least one of the worrying smells clicking into place. She watched as he swabbed a sample from the large pool of blood drying tacky on the floor. Clearly something bad had happened here recently.

21:15:42 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 10808 S. Baker St, Everett, Seattle

Mac couldn’t help the roll of her eyes at Tristan’s accusations but the smirk that accompanied it was short lived as she stepped around Kovacs and the area of the floor he was working over. She couldn’t stop herself from looking back towards the blood as the swordsman led them into the bedroom, it didn’t mean it was Isomer’s contact’s blood, but given the state of the apartment it was highly likely.

She shook the foreboding thoughts from her head as she stepped into the bedroom and let her eyes travel the surfaces, the furnishings, the limited personal items that were lumped into the overall chaos of the space having been thoroughly tossed as if someone had been looking for something in particular. She watched from the doorway as Tristan started stepping over piles of clothing, rifling through everything within his reach. Mac did what came naturally to her at first, she started drawing assumptions on the person who lived here based on what was still contained in the room hoping it might give her a better insight on who he was and where exactly they might find the clues they were looking for. God knew she had seen the insides of countless bedrooms of all walks of life and been able to decipher some of their habits and behaviors of her clients before they revealed themselves to her physically.

“So what exactly are we looking for?”
She posed the question as she stepped further into the room, dropping to her knees next to the edge of the bed. She pushed aside a pile of otherwise non-descript clothing before she carefully ran her fingertips along the edge of the underside of the bedframe, feeling along the barely there lip.

If I needed to stash something quickly, this is where I’d go first.

21:19:27 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 10808 S. Baker St, Everett, Seattle

"Anything that might point to where the missing owner might have run to if he was trying to go to ground." Tristan was systematically dismantling the closet with haste, looking as much with his hands as with his eyes as he pillaged clothes, shoes, and boxes for anything of use. Mac was about to respond when her fingers ran over something that didn't belong. Carefully she felt around the edges until she found the tape holding the item in place, peeling it free to examine her find. An unmarked credstick was sandwiched between an unmarked OMC and a generic brand flash-pak. Popping out her switchblade, Mac cut the flash-pak free rather than trying to loosen it from the tape. The last thing she wanted was to accidentally fire it off in the darkened apartment. The rest she stashed in her pocket, turning to attack the dresser on her side of the room. Pulling the drawers out, she emulated Tristan's search methods, tossing clothes from the dresser onto the bed after running them through her hands. In the bottom of the middle drawer she found a disturbing amount of porn sims. She debated for a moment, then decided to err on the side of caution. Stripping the pillowcase off the pillow, she emptied the chips into it before setting the drawer aside.

"Good idea," commented the swordsman, borrowing the pillowcase and filling it with the handful of items he'd located.

Team, One, Lone Star surveillance drone inbound.

Mac straightened at the message from Drift, but Tristan continued his search, testing the panels in the closet and bathroom to see if any were loose.

One, Actual, are they queued on our posit?

Actual, One, unknown at this time. Two minutes until overhead. Status of ground units unknown.

Team, Actual, evac in one minute. Two, we'll be coming out the north door. Three, sterilize.

Mac turned towards the door and almost ran into Suda. The shaman slipped aside to stand amidst the wreckage of the room. She mumbled something under her breath, and Mac saw the telltale flicker of energy swirl around her as she drew mana from the astral plane to do her bidding. Tristan bounded past carrying the pillowcase over his shoulder.

"Fire escape?" she heard him ask.

"Set the line," Kovacs confirmed, "we're right behind you."

The tall samurai pointed Mac after the swordsman, and she hustled into the hall. Suda passed her at a jog, snapping her fingers at the spirit lounging by the door. The ethereal cat bounded after her. Kovacs set the door panel into the jamb before turning to catch up.

"C'mon," he urged Mac, his tone commanding but without the harshness she expected. She followed the digital footprints echoed on her AR from Tristan's lead, her submachine gun cradled in her arms to keep it from slapping against her chest. A muffled collision sounded from ahead, and seconds later they passed a junkie sprawled on the floor, a dazed look on his face. Mac slowed instinctively, only to feel Kovacs at her back. She skittered around the fallen figure, while the taller samurai simply hurdled him.

Turning the corner, she saw Tristan fiddling with the door leading to the building's external fire escape. He had it open before they reached him, having run a simple bypass on the alarm to keep it from sounding. Suda never stopped, twisting lithely over the railing and dropping into thin air. Mac slowed again, expecting to hook up to Tristan's line like she'd done earlier. Instead, Kovacs picked her up and thrust her into the swordsman's waiting arms.

"Wha?" she hissed in surprise.

"Hold on!" grinned Tristan gleefully, clipping the carabiner on his climbing harness to hers before taking two big steps and diving off the landing. Mac clamped her mouth shut on a scream as she watched Kovacs snatch the cable unspooling from the rear of Tristan's harness and clip it to the railing. Then he, too, was off and falling through the darkness after them.

"Weight coming on," advised Tristan, laconically, before a giant tug pulled them almost to a stop. Something overhead SPAANNNNGGED, and they dropped the final meter onto terra firma. With a single move, the swordsman released the carabiner holding them together and swiped behind him. Kovacs didn't bother with the halt, simply slowing to a survivable speed before tagging the line behind him with the catalyst stick and dropping the last meter or so to the ground. As the myomeric lines began to dissolve, the three boarded the waiting Roadmaster, Suda having already seated herself inside.

Rolling, advised Drift over comms, and the heavy van bumped down the curb and accelerated into the night.

21:33:13 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Eastbound Hwy 96 into Everett Seattle

Drift had pointed them southbound, taking a different route to wind them back towards Redmond. As soon as everyone was confident they weren't carrying any type of tail from the apartment building, they got to work laying out what they had managed to salvage from the apartment. Tristan was quick to pull the various items they had revived from the bedroom, laying them out for Suda and Kovacs to add to anything they recovered. He upended the pillowcase, sending the various porn chips scattering across the pile. Suda raised a brow with a look of distaste curving her lips.

"Don't judge a book by its cover. He could have hidden anything in plain sight that way," Mac shrugged slightly as she reached for the pocket along her right leg, tearing the Velcro closure open with a violent rip. She pulled out the contents and added them to the pile, holding the OMC between her fingers.

"I'll see your porn chips, and raise you a flash pak, a credstick and this."

She held the chip before Kovacs until he took it from her fingers.

21:41:29 Monday, 15 January 2063 - southbound I5 into Downtown Seattle

Kovacs passed the chip to Drift. "Be careful, if we need to we can get an expert on it."

The rigger acknowledged, slotting the chip anyway.

"Oh hey!" Tristan's face was reverent as he held up one of the porn sims. "He's got a copy of Flower In Bloom with Rei Ayanami in it! They only made like a dozen of these!"

Mac chuckled as the swordsman pocketed the loot, glancing over at Suda in expectation of a snarky comment. The shaman, though, wore a puzzled expression on her face as she turned over a pair of boxes of NutriSoy Ultimate Flavor Enhancer - Steak flavoring. With little ceremony, she upended the opened package, spewing the pale powder out over the pile of gear already on the floor of the Roadmaster. A slim wrist model commlink protected by a watertight bag clunked onto the floor.

"Bingo," said Kovacs.

Suda nodded. "I was wondering why the used box was heavier than the new one."

Mac brushed the package off, handing it towards Drift, who shook his head.

"Nope. Not touching that thing with a three meter pole. Liable to have some nasty IC on board."

The tone of the Roadmaster's engine changed, and Mac felt them shift lanes. Kovacs glanced at Tristan. "JW?"

"Yeah," replied Tristan, "let me make sure he's awake."

The swordsman punched in a call on his commlink. Suda was drawing figures in the piles of powdered flavoring on the floor of the truck. "You know we'll have to wait in the truck, right?" she asked Kovacs.

The tall samurai shrugged. "Tristan and Mac can handle the details. I know it would freak Eight the frag out if we showed up."

"It's incapable of freaking out," corrected Suda, "it has no emotions left. We should have put it out of its misery long ago."

Kovacs face tightened into a wintery grimace, and his tone was icy cold. "I'm not rehashing this with you now. What's done is done. Keep focused on the target."

The shaman shrugged, standing and dusting off her hands so she could sit by Drift. "Just sayin'."

"We're good," interjected Tristan, signing off his comm call. "JW will be expecting us."

21:42:16 Monday, 15 January 2063 - southbound I5 into Downtown Seattle

Mac shifted in her seat as the temperature in the van dropped a good number of degrees with the exchange between Kovacs and Suda. Her brow arched sharply while her eyes moved between Kovacs and Tristan, finally settling on the swordsman, the silent questions evident on her face. The one she spoke however was benign.

"So who exactly is JW? Some tech wiz."

21:55:09 Monday, 15 January 2063 - southbound I5, Downtown Seattle

"Not just a tech whiz," replied Tristan, ignoring the testy exchange between Kovacs and Suda. "He was one of the interface pioneers that worked for Fuchi Electronics back when it was Fuchi and not Cross. He was one of their best engineers, brilliant in his work. But not ambitious, he was one of those guys who just liked to tinker and build stuff and make things work better. One of his less scrupulous coworkers stole some of his tech and froze him out of the corporation. He'd never been on the outside and ended up surfing the mean streets for a couple of years until he started selling his skills to the shadows. He's kind of eccentric, but harmless, and definitely an elite resource to have."

Mac nodded, building a mental picture in her mind of a clearly older individual. She knew she shouldn't, but the dark part of her heart couldn't help but needle the shaman.

"So who's Eight?"

The swordsman glanced forward to where Suda sat, but if the shaman heard she didn't react to the question.

"He's the reason we got to know JW in the first place. He's one of those guys that are more machine than human. And in his case, almost completely machine. He tends to rub the more natural people the wrong way."

21:57:43 Monday, 15 January 2063 - southbound I5 into Downtown Seattle

She found herself nodding towards Tristan as if his description of the infamous Eight made perfect sense and as if she ran into heavily augmented types all the time, when it couldn't be further from the truth. The hairs on the back of her neck raised as Suda's statement replayed in her head and a chill of forbidding ran through her. She knew the shaman was dangerous both from the rest of the team's declarations as well as her own observations, but it was like another layer was revealed in that moment and Mac was fairly certain that the woman would deal with things she found no longer useful or complicating in a most decisive manner. She was fairly certain that went for people too. She swallowed hard against her throat gone dry and tried to keep her voice low and level. She wasn't about to let the shaman rattle her cage, or at least not let it show.

"So, if you met JW through Eight, is he some kind of byproduct of his tech?"

22:08:34 Monday, 15 January 2063 - southbound Hwy 181, Downtown, Seattle

Tristan shakes his head, but it's Kovacs that answers. "Not a byproduct, really. JW's just more comfortable around technology. He has a hard time relating to anyone not technically versed."

Mac nodded. "I've met a few of those."

"Not like JW you haven't," Tristan chuckles. The swordsman is busy tidying up the mess left over from their ransacking of the apartment, doing his best to sort and organize the random collection of items recovered.

Nothing on the chip but paydata. Double-checking but I don't think it has any location info.

Kovacs acknowledged Drift's message over the net with a double mic click. Mac glanced at him. "Paydata?"

"Like a money stash, stuff that he could fence quickly to get some nuyen. Possibly bribery or blackmail material as well," replied the samurai. Mac nodded.

22:23:16 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4029 Marshall Street, Auburn, Seattle

Drift parks the Roadmaster adjacent to a rundown, three story brick building. Although it appears deserted, an anonymous skeleton amidst an urban graveyard here on the edges of Auburn, Mac can see a few tell tale lights burning inside. At this hour little traffic fills the street, mostly the odd delivery and cargo trucks out making their rounds. Snow remains piled high on the curbs and sidewalks, and no other pedestrian is visible amidst the dark, chill wind.

Tristan hefts the recovered commlink, flashing Mac a smile. "Ready?"

She smirked at him. "Born ready."

True to their word, both Kovacs and Suda remain in the truck, leaving Mac and the swordsman alone to cross the alleyway to the building, heading around street side towards the one obvious entrance. Mac is a little surprised then Tristan is simply able to open the door, unused to people trusting enough to leave doors unlocked. Especially in this neighborhood.

The interior of the building appears pitch black initially, and its with difficulty that Mac's low light gathers enough ambient illumination to reveal racks of undefined equipment and floor to ceiling shelves overflowing with technological detritus, circuits and ports glinting in the half-light, sinuous coils of cables drooping carelessly from plastic bins like adders hanging in the jungle foliage. Indistinct voices mutter in conversation from somewhere within the labyrinthine room.

At least Tristan seems to know where he's going, moving confidently through the maze towards the voices. He halts abruptly, though, his left hand held low at his side in warning.

"Good evening, Eight," he says, addressing the shadows. "I called a few minutes ago, JW is expecting us."

A figure, standing so still Mac thought it part of the technological rubble, shifts in the darkness. A pair of eyes glow to life with neon blue lambency, and a low buzzing, grating noise emanates forth, like an optical drive accessing data. The figure glides off in near silence, and Tristan motions for them to follow.

"Good to see you, too," he says, his tone betraying a hint of uncertainty.

After a minute, they emerge into a large workspace in the middle of the room. Three long tables mark out a square with the fourth side left open. Electronics in various states of (dis)repair lie open on the tables, intertwined with diagnostic machinery and power supplies. A tail of ozone tickles the back of Mac's throat, and she resists the urge to sneeze. Overhead hang a dozen large display screens, four of them tuned to different trideo channels, while the rest are text readouts of RSS feeds or matrix chatrooms or clusters of UMS iconography or more fanciful sculpted systems. Three of the screens have their volume up loud enough to be heard, and are the source of the muttering voices.

Seated on a high rolling stool at one of the workbenches is a stooped figure, shapeless in a set of canvas coveralls, an unruly mop of blonde hair sticking out from beneath a set of image intensification goggles. Eight's shadow appears at the far side of the table, this time a series of rapid clicks join the low buzzing, like a server swapping between drive sectors. The figure turns, straightening and turning towards them. Even then Mac can tell that he's short, probably less than her height. The face revealed is old, creased with lines and spots. But the eyes, sunken amidst a mass of wrinkles, still burn with bright intelligence.

"It's good to see you again, JW," says Tristan.

"Ah, yes. It is good to see you, too, Tristan."

22:25:41 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4029 Marshall Street, Auburn, Seattle

If Mac felt out of place toeing the edge of Kovas' world over the last week, she felt positively alien in JW's workspace with Eight hovering in the background. Her eyes moved across the workspace, the various screens, sweeping over the myriad of electronics, never lingering on much for long enough to be accused of staring. She finally rested her gaze back on JW's face, drawn back to the depths of knowledge there as She let Tristan make any introductions as he felt necessary before they got down to the reason for their visit. She was out of her element and Eight's lurking put her further on edge and she was digging her nails into her palms to try to keep her composure.

22:31:06 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4029 Marshall Street, Auburn, Seattle

"JW, this is Mac, she's working with us on this," Tristan made the introductions as he rummaged in his pocket.

"Mac, a pleasure to meet you," JW extended his hand, which surprised her since he was the only one to have ever done so. After a moment's hesitation, they shook. She watched as he turned back to Tristan, obviously more comfortable dealing in something requiring his specialty. The swordsman offered the still sealed commlink.

"We need everything on it as soon as you can."

JW turned it over in his hands, flipping down one monocle of his goggles to examine the device. "How secured is it?"

"Unknown. But it belonged to someone who hustled data professionally."

This elicited a hum from JW, while Eight burred in caution. The short technician acknowledged with a nod. "Yes, yes, my friend. We'll use the stand alone. Go ahead and isolate all our networks."

Tristan stepped back to give him room to work.

22:33:13 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4029 Marshall Street, Auburn, Seattle

Mac was still parsing the handshake, strong grip, leathery skin, his face so similar to the many older men she had shared company with, yet none had held even a hint of intelligence that JW had. A tilt of her head as she watched, studying them both.

The elegant dance between man and machine as JW and Eight set up to crack the found commlink, careful to insulate the rest of their electronics and gear from whatever might come at them. Every questioning or curious noise that escaped JW's mouth was met with an equal yet electronic one from Eight.

Mac was so engrossed in watching the two work that she wasn't ready when Tristan stepped back, either to give them space to work or to leave, and bumped into her instead. She bit her lip and shook her head as she stepped back giving the pair room.

"Sorry, are we leaving?" She spoke in hushed tones as she looked up to the swordsman.

22:48:27 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4029 Marshall Street, Auburn, Seattle

Tristan shook his head. "Just gotta hang out for a bit, it shouldn't take too long."

He gestured to one of the overhead screens, cleared of its original collection of RSS feeds and now showing a rather undecorated collection of UMS iconography. Both JW and Eight were now still, focused entirely on the VR and their attempt to crack open the encryption protecting the mysterious commlink without damaging any of the information contained within. Mac knew she lacked the vocabulary to understand what they were doing, and she suspected that Tristan did as well. The swordsman was busy rummaging through his pockets, probably in search of something to eat, rather than paying attention to the overhead display.

Minutes ticked past, and Mac finally ended up clearing off a bit of bench space for herself and taking a seat. Tristan had found a snack bag in his pocket and was happily munching away. She sighed, fidgeting. Waiting was always the hardest for her, especially given everything that had transpired within the past twenty four hours.

JW leaned back with a sigh, lifting his goggles and rubbing his eyes. Tristan brushed his hands against his pants, clearing them of crumbs.

"Well?" he prompted.

"Your decker friend utilized this commlink to echo his own network, copying down twelve hours of his life at a time as an off-line backup. It recorded his online movements as well as storing his cyberware data. We scanned through the data quickly, and on the surface I don't think we've found anything of particular interest. Except the last few minutes of data recorded."

The display screen flickered before resolving into a view of the apartment that Mac found familiar, although much cleaner than when last she saw it. The view didn't answer many of the questions she had about the nature of this contact, just that he spent his Monday evening multitasking on the matrix while playing one of the endless AR games available. Something violent happened to the left of the field of view, and as the contact reacted it became clear. The door to the apartment stood ajar, smoking in response to the breach by the pair of bulky attackers filling the hallway. A weapon along with a smartlink crosshairs appeared in the field of view, but he wasn't fast enough. Gunshots flashed, and Mac flinched aside. When she looked back, the field of view was of the ceiling, a view that was obscured when a face leaned over the prostate body of the contact. The view screen froze with a frame of the face and Mac glanced at Tristan in confusion.

The face was that of a child, no older than ten or twelve, but with completely white eyes.

22:54:19 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4029 Marshall Street, Auburn, Seattle

"What the fra..."

Mac shook her head and tried to clear the image of the person with the white eyes. No, she silently corrected herself, the kid with the white eyes. She hoped Tristan both could and would explain but something nagged at her in the video and she spoke up, her request to JW instead of the swordsman.

"Can you go back, just before he first turns."

She got a quick nod from the tech wiz, the screen above her rolling back and pausing just as the subject's head began to turn.

"A couple of steps back, when he's distracted by his game. Please."

JW complied again and Mac studied the game for an instant, the iconography familiar though she knew she had never played. She ran her thumb over the tips of her fingers as she tried to remember why it was familiar before she snapped her finger and pointed while she took a second to make sure her commlink was open and the rest of the team could hear her revelation.

"The Quest of Narsheck! It was one of those games Ricky was always distracted by," She said this as if Tristan should know exactly what and who she was talking about and when he just stared at her with a confused look on his face she sighed dramatically and continued to explain. "He's a friend of Frankie's, a big matrix geek, he let it slip that he and his buddies were always connected into the game, not for its merits on the gaming spectrum, but that it had a killer "Inn" that the characters could meet up at during their quests. I highly doubt they were there to virtually drink grog and scope out the wenches if you get my drift."

She caught JW nodding in understanding an instant before Tristan connected the dots.

"I'm fairly sure it was more of an information clearinghouse more than it was ever a game."

23:02:26 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4029 Marshall Street, Auburn, Seattle

"Good eyes," commented Tristan, palming a credstick and setting it on the workbench next to JW. The older human glanced at it before disconnecting the commlink from the diagnostic cables, closing the back panel and slipping it back into the protective plastic sack.

"Well, it looks like our job here is done?" JW ended with an uptick, offering an opening should Tristan have anything further he needed. The swordsman nodded.

"We appreciate it, thanks for seeing us so late." Tristan gestured to Mac, scooping up the commlink as he went. Together they retraced their steps out of the cavernous building and to the alleyway where the Roadmaster idled. Tristan filled the team in on what they found from the commlink as Drift pointed the heavy truck back into the city.

"Back to the safe house," confirmed Kovacs. "I'll have Isomer set us up an account on this game. Mac and I will go, we'll drop in from one of the anonymous havens."

"I'll need the day tomorrow to work if you want the big guns," said Suda. The samurai nodded. "You're clear."

Tristan clapped Drift on the shoulder. "Looks like it's just you and me, big guy."

"Fine by me," replied Drift. "Just so long as I get to be the big spoon."

23:11:41 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Northbound Hwy 181, Downtown, Seattle

Mac laughed brightly at the banter between Tristan and Drift but it quickly morphed into a giant yawn that she tried to hide behind one of her hands to no avail. She was fairly convinced that if she stood still too long she'd be asleep on her feet. She raked her finger through her hair and blinked a few times before she turned her attention towards the samurai and grew a little more serious.

"If Isomer can create you an account with enough history to access that part of the game that's great. If not, we can always go in on mine," The corners of Mac's mouth turned up slightly as Kovacs looked at her questioningly for an instant.

"What? I'm not any kind of gamer, I've just got an account, Frankie does too. Hell most of our inner circle does thanks to Ricky. Pretty sure he hacked some marker into our accounts that vouches for us or something amongst that particular set of players if they know what to look for," She shrugged her shoulders clearly out of her league when it came to the finer details of the inner workings of both the game and the hacks in her account.

"Just saying I could probably vouch for you if anyone got skittish over your sudden appearance in the game.

23:22:13 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Kovacs shrugged. "No arguments, I'm just thinking that if you already have an account then we won't bother talking to Isomer at all. You run the recon and I'll cover you."

"Okay, anything in particular we're looking for?"

"Isomer's contact goes by the name Pershing, although I don't know if his online alias is the same or not."

"It was on his datachip," interjected Drift.

"Easy day, then." Mac rubbed her hands together, trying to ease some tension from her shoulders. She wasn't sure how both Kovacs and Tristan remained so calm and relaxed. The swordsman's constant food addiction probably helped. Even now he was busily munching away on some kind of organic granola bar. The rest of the ride back to the safe house passed uneventfully. The team broke up to their assigned duties as soon as the Roadmaster pulled up, although Drift kept the heavy van outside until Mac and Kovacs departed in his truck.

23:49:34 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

Nothing had changed about the anonymous matrix access point in the few days that transpired between her visit with Tristan and now. Kovacs led in the same way as the swordsman had, although he waited longer outside the unmarked door before being granted access. Mac wondered if it had anything to do with the hardware she knew he carried beneath his longcoat. Regardless, she soon found herself amidst the chipped and faded plastic cubicles, covered with their patina of graffiti and peel-tabs from used stim patches. Beneath her lover's watchful gaze, she jacked in, letting her mind submerge into the electronic ether before calling up the address of the game world.

23:53:57 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

The Quest of Narsheck was like countless other MMORPG’s that littered the matrixverse, you take on the role as a mighty hero who must set out to protect the lands of Narschek from those who conspire to see it destroyed. You fight through creepy monasteries, search in the bowels of the earth for dwarven treasure, or investigate a mysterious castle. Mac had never set foot outside of the game’s individual player’s lobby or the Inn she had mentioned to Tristan.

Her personal lobby is where she found herself once she entered the game, surrounded in the space by the constantly updating leaderboard, maps of where her character had (not) explored that marked her last location with a glowing red ‘X’, the game’s General Store, the list of her “friends” online and the private message interface. She was about to read the three messages that had arrived since her last visit when she felt herself pulled through the game by a familiar game persona who had summoned her to the free-for-all Inn she had mentioned back at JW’s workshop. She quickly found herself seated across from a burly human character at in the tavern. He was one she had met up with in the flesh in an exchange of info for cred, one she knew in the meat as an Ork who went by the name of Gryphon.

Mac inclined her head towards the familiar character, sending a tumble of copper curls covering her character’s green eyes. She was always amused at how far her game persona was away from her reality and how often it seemed to occur that way. She wondered as she looked around the half-full tavern just how opposite most of these people must be in the flesh.

“Imagine running into you around here. Looking for something in particular, or just catching up for old time’s sake? I’m kind of working up against a deadline tonight.”

Mac's face softened as she watched the man across from her react to her bitchier-than-intended tone. It wasn't his fault she was in the game looking for anything that might open doors or make things clearer when it came to their search.

"Sorry, it's been a long night."

She managed a slight smile as she continued to study Gryph, her eyes lingering on the 'clan' badge that was clipped to one of the thick leather straps that crossed his persona's chest. She wore an identical one on her hip.

"Actually, you might be able to help me out of a tough spot. How well do you know Ric... Er Rhys' clan"

23:58:06 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

Gryph shrugged, forgoing any reaction to her early snappish comment in light of the question. "I know it, but that's about it. We're not feuding currently if you're looking to build a party."

Mac shook her head. She wasn't here to gather a raiding party together to conquer one of the multitude of quests available for gold and XP. "Nah, not tonight. I'm actually just looking for one person in particular but I'm not sure the best way to go about it."

There was a pause as Gryph looked confused, his avatar scratching one oversized tusk. "Is the banner portal down again?"

Mac knew he was referring to the notoriously buggy teleportation system in Narshek, the one that was supposed to deliver you to the proximity of whatever player's banner you clicked on, but more often than not unceremoniously dumped you at a random location in the game world. Often with unpleasantly lethal results.

"I'm fairly sure he's not currently online, I was hoping to find out if he'd cached anything."

Gryph glanced around to make sure none of Narshek's Peacekeepers were within earshot, since Mac was suggesting something not just a little against game rules. It wasn't exactly stealing to crash another player's cache, but it was damn close. Even if all she wanted to do was read the private messages linked to the account, if she was discovered it would mean a permanent ban from the game. Gryph lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Cache crashing? Never figured you for the type. What's he hoarding?"

00:01:42 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

Mac looked around their immediate area as if she was looking for Peacekeepers as well, when what she was really doing was buying time as she figured how she wanted to play this and just what she could afford to give away.

"That's the million nu question."

She dropped her gaze to the table, falling back into one of her cons as easily as she breathed. She knew she was telegraphing shame and guilt even in her digital persona as she wrung her hands in her lap.

"I'm afraid he might have files... Photos and videos he could use against me, if you know what I mean." She choked out, fighting not to fall apart.

If she could convince Gryph to help, she needed to build a plausible reason to sift through Pershing's messages without a second set of eyes. Incriminating photos and videos involving her might buy her that privacy as well as spark the need in Gryph to help "rescue" her.

00:05:19 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

"You sent him nudes? Man, I...uh...yeah, that sucks." Gryph shook his head, frowning. "That'd be worth it, though, risking the game to get 'em back. What's his name?"

Mac maintained the illusion, casting her eyes about to ensure their conversation was still private. None of the other avatars loitering around the Raven Horse Inn seemed to be paying attention to them at all. "I'm pretty sure he goes by the name Pershing."

Gryph blinked in surprise. "You're drekkin' me, right?"

When he saw that Mac not only didn't recognize the name nor the implication, he shook his head. "I think you're going to be mostly out of luck. The guy's a level twenty five paragon! His retainers have retainers! There's no way you're getting close enough to his cache to pry it apart."

"Well frag," she muttered, although her frown was mostly for show. If what Gryph said was true, then information gathering might be easier than anticipated. If Pershing employed retainers, it was a good bet that at least some of them would be actual players rather than AI bots. They might know more details about Isomer's missing contact.

"Could we at least take a look?" she asked. Gryph shrugged. "Sure, I suppose so. It's your funeral."

He stood and lead her out one of the Inn's many entrances, to the stables across the muddy road. Torches lit the exteriors of both buildings, pushing back Narshek's perpetual twilight. Mac had no idea if her avatar still retained the horse it once had, but they solved the issue by simply purchasing another. It wasn't anything fancy, but then she wasn't planning on charging into combat with it so she didn't need one of the expensive war striders. As it was, they ended up fleeing a couple of random encounters, even on the roads you couldn't avoid the odd brace of dire boars or a roaming ettin marauder. Eventually, though, they emerged from a thin copse of trees onto the bare crest of a rise that sloped down to a narrow valley. At the head of the valley, rising majestically into the clouded twilight, was a multi-towered keep. Mac whistled softly in appreciation. If Pershing could afford something like that, Gryph's assertion of his prowess must be spot on. Her companion, though, frowned.

"Strange. I don't see anyone around."