23:27:51 Saturday, 20 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Mac stepped silently just behind and to the right of where Cris was kneeling beside the entombed body of her brother. When the waif-like girl didn’t look up or acknowledge her presence she cleared her throat loud enough to get the girl’s attention and let her know she was there.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone. Not now. Not like this.”

Mac spoke, her voice carrying on and into the wind as much as it found the young girl’s ears before Cris turned her face towards her, cheeks red from the cold wind and wet from her tears.

“It didn’t feel right to leave him alone out here.”

Mac shook her head knowing she couldn’t leave the girl out here or leave Tristan alone and unconscious inside.

“We can’t stay out here and look like prey. I don’t want to keep you from mourning, but it’s not safe to be out here tonight. Those Crimson Crush riders were already through here once tonight, I don’t need one of their lookouts or street kids keeping an eye out for anything or anyone that looks like a goldmine to them. Come back inside with me?”

Though she framed it as a question, truthfully, Mac wasn’t above dragging Cris back inside if it became necessary.

00:08:49 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Cris nods, shivering. She lets Mac guide her back into the small room, huddling close to the fire in an effort to get warm. The night remains cold and silent, the only sound the harsh wind curling off the Sound. Mac scans the area carefully nonetheless, her eyes alert for any indication of gang activity or the intrusion of other urban scavengers. She wondered if the rest of the Winternight cell survived, where they went, and if they knew about her involvement.

She hoped Drift and his family were all right. It seemed like a year ago that she'd stood outside his auto repair shop with Kovacs, watching the dark haired woman clutch her baby to her. In her memory Mac thought that she'd worn a look of sadness, as if she knew that Kovacs' arrival meant nothing but blood and death. She remembered how everyone used to look at him: Geist, the gangers the The Emporium, the young fighter outside Tristan's gym. He had carried some kind of invisible Mark of Cain, some aura that marked him indelibly as a predator. She looked at the dull gray synthetic of her right hand, so much like his, and wondered if she already carried the same mark, if it was the psychic scars of trauma and combat and loss which would be her badge that all other urban warriors recognized.

Tristan snored. Mac quirked a smile. It was a good sign, he was coming out of his Long Haul crash and sleeping normally. He'd be up and mobile in six hours or so, and they could finally venture out into the city again. Which was good, the hiding was taking a toll on her. Mac had grown used to Kovacs' incessant motion, and itched to have the uncertainties of her situation resolved.

Cris munched on a packet of crackers from the survival rations Mac had given her earlier, her eyes fixed on the low, flickering flames. She blinked, then looked over at Mac.

"Can I stay here?"

00:27:57 Saturday, 20 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Mac half-shrugged before she shook her head. It wasn’t her safehouse to share beyond what she already had and she couldn’t in good conscience leave the girl here alone.

“You can’t. I mean, we’re not staying. As soon as he’s up we’re moving again. I promised I would keep you safe, and I’ll honor that. You wouldn’t be safe here alone after we leave and take everything with us.”

She painted a bleak picture of the situation for a reason, to set up the stage for dropping the girl somewhere with a level of security and safety beyond the streets without a lot of drama. She watched as Cris’ face fell almost instantly at her words, her eyes showing only the slightest bit of relief when Mac clarified she wouldn’t be left behind.

“You’ll be close by. When you need to come back.” She didn’t have to say more, both girls knew clearly what she was speaking of and for an instant Mac’s chest tightened when she reminded herself she didn’t have a place to mourn like Cris could and would. Shaking off the thought, she refocused on the girl and kept her face as neutral as possible to hide the swirl of emotions building again inside of her.

Distracting herself further, she pulled her commlink from the pocket of Tristan’s jacket and checked for any further news from Frankie or Mario before sending an update of her own their way. She asked if they had wheels and let them know she’d keep checking in with them as she had a better handle on just where things were headed. She attempted to piggyback on whatever signal she was able to harness and search for more details and more answers of what was going on in the city and around the world.

She was desperate at this point to be moving again, even just to be alone long enough to fall apart away from prying eyes. To pick herself up again like every time before and keep going forward. She was a survivor after all. Her thoughts left her hollow this time around however, and as she shoved the commlink back in her pocket, her gaze travelled from the swordsman’s prone form back to the girl huddled under the sleeping bag staring into the fire. She needed something to keep her from feeling the fatigue that was seeping into her bones, so conversation with Cris was the less painful distraction.

“How did you and your brothers end up out there?”

01:09:34 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

"Major wasn't my brother, he was just our friend. We were looking for something to eat. Or maybe something we could trade for food. When the power went out, my mom went down to the store to try and keep the looters away. Then the fires started. We had enough in the fridge for a couple of days, but after that there wasn't anything."

Cris rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands, sniffling. Mac nodded, her own memories filling in the aching hollowness of days spent scrounging for food, hoping to find something amidst the trash and wreckage of the urban wasteland. Then came the days of using her body as currency, working her way from the street hoods and gangers, up to the mid-class criminals, the foot soldiers of the Mafia and Yakuza syndicates, before finally making it to the big time, the corporate wage slaves and managers, the men with the real money. She cast a surreptitious glance at Cris, estimating it would be another couple of years before she could make that Devil's deal.

"I don't know what's still there, or who's left. I don't want to go back." Cris looked up, waiting for Mac to meet her gaze. "Can I go with you?"

01:17:16 Saturday, 20 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Mac's eyes looked away for an instant before she closed and opened them slowly, returning to fix her gaze on Cris. She wasn't in a place to be the kind of help the younger girl needed. Hell, she wasn't even certain she'd be able to help herself down her new path once she and Tristan parted ways depending on how violently everything had changed throughout the city and how quickly or painfully slowly it came back.

"You don't have to go back," she paused, trying to find the words to spin the situation, to soften the blow of turning the girl out on her own but finding herself coming up short. "I said I would help you if you let me, and I will. But you can't come with me," Mac's voice faded to just above a whisper but she spoke the most raw truth she could offer.

"I don't know where I'm going."

01:46:29 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

"Oh. Okay."

Mac had anticipated anger or pleading, but the simple flat acceptance brought her up short, and she looked hard at Cris. The young girl's face betrayed nothing, though, as she stared into the wan firelight. In the end, Mac guessed she was simply trying to figure out the next best course of action to take. Kind of like Mac was herself.

She knew Tristan would be up in six hours or so, finally rested from the forced nap of a long-haul coma. Together they'd find a vehicle of some kind, through brute force or barter. The barter thought still made her skin crawl, but Mac forced herself to confront reality. To survive, they would need to use all of the resources at hand. Then it would be on to Kovacs' stash. At some point she assumed Tristan would split, either to recover his own gear and/or to make sure Demetria was all right. And she would rendezvous with Frankie and Mario.

And then what? Beyond the immediate actions of recovery and survival, what was her plan? She looked at the matte gray of her right hand where it lay against her thigh. She couldn't go back to hooking with this thing on her shoulder. No one was going to pay for a busted up girl with misshapen arms. At least, no one she could stomach playing with. Which left her facing a path she'd only too recently started walking.

Mac shook her head. There was no way she could go it alone. Even with the crash course from Kovacs, even with his continued electronic presence, there was still too much she didn't know. She needed a guide in the real world, someone who had an established network, who could help find and vet jobs for her, who could acquire gear and equipment and weapons. What was it that Kovacs called it? A fixer. She needed a fixer.

A memory flickered, a recent trip, one of the first drives she'd taken with Kovacs. Downtown Seattle, the waterfront, and a restaurant called Miner's Landing. The man was shorter and older than Kovacs by a few years, his face savvy, his eyes worldly. She wracked her brain. Zeyda, his name is Zeyda she recalled triumphantly. He had spoken with Kovacs like a friend. He would want to know about his death. Mac nodded to herself. After the stash, after Frankie and Mario, after she knew they'd make it through the week, she would go find Zeyda.

02:19:22 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Mac felt only slightly better having a vague plan beyond getting reconnected with Frankie and Mario. Guilt over the thought of pawning Cris off on an overwhelmed mission still didn't sit well with her. She couldn't help but think there might be another solution somewhere, but she would have to learn more about the girl before it would come to her.

"I'm guessing he'll be up in just a few hours," She gestured towards Tristan. "And I'm fairly certain he'll want to get on the move shortly after. So that gives us a little while longer to get to know each other, and to have something else to eat."

Mac pulled a single ration from the bags and prepped it before handing it and a little more water to Cris, taking nothing for herself this time. She continued her conversation with the girl as a means to distract herself from her own growing hunger, a feeling she hadn't endured in quite a while.

"Tell me more about you, you mentioned your mom's store and how you couldn't go back... What can you do, I mean what are you willing to do to survive out there on your own?"

02:56:51 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Cris accepted the food without comment, eating mechanically. The fire had brought back the color to her face, the food and the nap giving her a bit more energy to deal with the situation. She still shrugged in response to Mac's question.

"Dunno. I'm guessing there isn't going to be any school on Monday. I guess I could go see if Jenni's family would let me stay with them. Or maybe Reza, but her dad is pretty strict."

She shifted uncomfortably. "I know a guy at school. He's a...a dealer. He always said to come see him if I needed to make a quick buck."

Her face twisted. "Maybe he'll let me get away with just sucking him off. He's kinda gross."

Mac felt herself shiver. "As long as that's all it is. Don't let him talk you into running any drops for him. Never get involved in someone else's crimes. As long as you're working for yourself, no one can tell you who to sell your body to."

She felt Cris' eyes on her and sucked in her bottom lip before nodding in response to the unasked question. "Yeah, I've done it. I wasn't too smart about it, though, and ended up in a bad situation until someone helped me out."

After a moment, Cris turned back to the fire. "You just did it to survive, though, right?" she asked, her voice small. "You didn't...you didn't like it, though?"

To give herself space to think, Mac took a drink of water, weighing her answer and how honest she was ready to be. "Not really. I liked the money, I liked what I could do with it. But being in the business wasn't pleasant."

Silence stretched between them again.

"I don't think I could do it," whispered Cris. "I mean, Ken and I had sex last year just to see what it was all about. It was okay, I guess. Some of the girls in my class talk about it all the time. Like they have these sugar daddies that they do stuff for and then they get to buy all this designer stuff. But mom always said that if a man was more interested in what's between your legs than what's between your ears, he's not really a man."

"Lord, if that ain't the truth," agreed Mac wryly.

"I can cook and clean and wash clothes," said Cris suddenly. "If I cleaned up your place, could I stay with you? You could, like, buy groceries and I could cook? I'm pretty good."

03:12:51 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Mac smiled woefully at the girl's eagerness to remain with her, as well her own slight fondness for the waif. She started to shake her head and it shifted to a half-hearted shrug.

"I don't know, I can't make any promises beyond the next few hours."

She ran through her mental black book and tried to think of any options that she could attempt to reach out to to give Cris a safe place to stay that wouldn't end up with some prick who didn't care about her turning her out to the streets for his own benefit.

The Stable was out, even if Wayne hadn't self-imploded she knew all too well how he operated. Most of her connections were to similar setups only less solid and run by owners with less scruples than Wayne. Many of her other connections didn't have need or use of someone like Cris, maybe Matthew over at Underworld could stand to have someone looking after him, but she doubted the club would be open for business in the near future. She was running out of ideas when it came full circle, she hesitated for a moment before she asked.

What are the chances Linda would have use for a girl like her.

03:44:19 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Even if Linda doesn't have a use for her, Studio Milan is probably safer than any of the missions. Assuming, of course, that it came through this chaos intact.

Mac nodded with a grimace, accepting the caveat. She remembered Linda's eyes, though, and the capable grace she carried with her. Mac smiled grimly.

I'll bet on the whores any day of the week and twice on Sunday.

I would, too. Linda has more skills than just what she uses between the sheets.

"If you're willing to cook and clean, I think I may have a solution to this problem." Mac turned towards Cris, although the young waif couldn't have been privy to the silent conversation in her head. Something resembling a smile crossed Cris' face.

"Really?"

"I don't have a place anymore, and until I get some stuff settled I can't have you with me. But I've got friends who need domestic help, good women who will look after you," Mac nodded in response. Cris digested that for a moment, clearly relieved to hear that she'd be with other females.

"Okay. Will I see you again?"

"Sure, kiddo," said Mac, almost telling the truth about the chances of their paths crossing again. Then, she rethought, and nodded, this time to herself. She would make time to ensure that Cris was all right. The answer seemed to mollify her young companion, tension easing from her shoulders. Mac fed another scrap of wood to the fire, watching as the flames licked up around it, momentarily brightening the room. Tristan snored again. She glanced at Cris.

"You should try and get some sleep, too. When he's up, we're going to move quick."

04:23:29 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

She watched as Cris pulled herself away from the fire, the relief apparent on her still dirty features as the girl agreed and curled back up inside the sleeping bag on the empty cot. Before long her breathing was deep and heavy in counterpoint to the swordsman's and Mac was once again left to the relative silence with the fire her only distraction.

She huddled inside the armored jacket that was two sizes too big for her and fought back the fatigue that threatened to close her too-heavy lids. She shifted her position, trying not to get too comfortable or too warm that she would drift completely off to sleep. She knew she needed to stay awake and the best thing she could do to in that moment was get into a complex conversation.

How much did you know about me before? That night I showed up on your doorstep. Why did you let me in?

Her question had multiple meanings, but she left it to him to decide just which vein he steered their discussion.

04:57:31 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

I knew that you were human, replied Kovacs. It was fairly obvious what skill set you were employing. Also that you were mundane. And had only the barest of combat training, nothing formal, just street fighting skills. Linda said that you had potential, that you needed help. She said that I should be careful.

Careful about what?

I'm not a hundred percent sure, although my best guess is that she was warning me about becoming emotionally involved with someone reeling from such a traumatic experience. Although her warning was appropriate, I decided not to listen to it.

Mac rubbed her forehead, unsure if she was ready for this. Not that she doubted her feelings, her emotional connection to Kovacs had been so much more than a simple shock response. There had been something magnetic and irresistible about him, some enigmatic force he possessed which drew her relentlessly towards him. Even now, the ache was painful.

Why not?

She felt him give a mental shrug.

Gut instinct. Intuition. Your eyes. The curve of your hips. Your smell. A thousand small things.

Tears prickled at the corner of her eyes again. His voice brought back such exquisite memories, such heart rending pain.

There is something about you that felt right to me. You felt like...home.

05:29:56 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Mac felt the breath disappear from her lungs, her heart shredded by simple words that were he to have said them standing in front of her would have brought her a joy beyond anything she had felt before. Instead she was hit with another wave of intense loss squeezing her eyes shut tight to stop the fresh stream of tears while fighting to keep quiet, biting back her sobs and making her body shake.

Across the room Cris rolled over, but remained asleep, the movement drawing Mac's attention and making her conscious of the noise she was making. She drew a few shaky, deep breaths and hugged her knees to her chest as she perched on overwatch. She swiped her fingers beneath her eyes, whisking away the tears once again and she wondered if she'd ever be able to stop. With anyone else, she would have been able to push down the feelings, compartmentalize them and numb herself well enough to function. But Kovacs, he made everything different. More intense, more vivid, ultimately more painful.

You were like that for me too, or at least what I had always wanted it to be. You were my eye of the storm, my moments of peace.

She sat in a bit of silence with the Samurai, and a weak smile lifted the corners of her lips as it felt like before, they way the two of them could exist comfortably without speaking. She enjoyed it for a moment longer before another thought slipped into her head.

She warned me too you know, said I was liable to find more than I bargained for with you. I guess she was right.

In the background near-silence, Tristan's snoring shallowed, Cris tossed fitfully and Mac tried to pull herself together before they were on the move again.

06:11:29 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Kovacs chuckled. I figured as much. Womenfolk looking out for one another and all.

Another thought struck her.

Did you and Linda...?

No. Well. Not in the physical sense.

What do you mean?

After the team broke up, after Suda and I broke up, she helped me sort some things out. I was a little crazy in those days. She gave me a different perspective.

Mac nodded. It was a truth she'd discovered in her life as a whore as well. Beyond the demands they placed on her body, what the men who sought her services most wanted was a woman who listened to them, who paid attention to their words and the meanings behind them. She could see where a woman as skilled as Linda was would be one of the few that a man as complex as Kovacs was could turn to. Mac desperately hoped that Linda and the girls at Studio Milan had come through the chaos of the past week intact.

I hope she's all right, said Kovacs as if he were reading her mind. Although knowing her, I'd be surprised if she wasn't. She's as tough and resourceful as they come.

Mac nodded in agreement again. That had been her assessment of the madame as well. She glanced over at Tristan's prone form.

With any luck, we'll know either way in a couple of hours.

06:39:51 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

Mac found herself toeing the line between exhaustion and restlessness. Needing something to do she walked around the safehouse, gathering the evidence that they had been there at all, the discarded ration packets, bottles of water and whatever else might give them away before she closed up Tristan’s go bags after resorting items and taking stock of what was left. As long as she kept moving, doing something until the swordsman woke up, she knew she’d be ok.

She silently wished for a hit of Long Haul at that moment, something to keep her going at full throttle until she could hole up somewhere safe and crash, hopefully with Frankie and Mario if everything went to plan. She was focusing on her next steps when something crossed her mind.

With everything that happened, is there anyone who needs to know about you? And if so, what am I supposed to tell them?

Surely by now certain people would know Kovacs was gone, Isomer for one, but she questioned people outside the team’s inner circle, people like Linda and even Zeyda, those connected to him but directly to the run itself.

07:26:19 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

There's no one that needs to know immediately. You can tell both Zeyda and Linda when you see them. Isomer will find out on his own. There aren't any others of note remaining, said Kovacs quietly.

Again, Mac nodded, pacing the narrow room with directionless energy. It hadn't taken long to tidy things up, rearranging the supplies in the go bags and organizing what few pieces of gear she had left. The wan morning sunshine, filtered through the low clouds and smoke, was enough to illuminate the dingy walls and dirt strewn floor with depressing clarity.

After a few more laps, she finally settled herself by the window again, eyes scanning the streets as the city slowly started to come to life. Tristan stretched his arms over his head, yawning cavernously. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he glanced around.

"Taking in strays already?" he asked before Mac could explain Cris' presence.

"It's just temporary!" she replied, her tone sharper than she intended. If the swordsman noticed, he gave no indication, swishing a mouthful of water around before spitting it in the corner. Reaching into his bag, he rummaged through the gear, demolishing Mac's careful packing job, before coming up with a ration packet for himself.

"Anything happen while I was out?"

07:47:23 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

She hadn’t had much time to reflect on Kovacs’ statement before Tristan had woken up, but it still struck her as painfully sad and yet so similar to her own situation that had things been different and he was still here there would be next to no one to tell that she was gone. She swallowed hard against that reality as she continued to look out the window a moment longer before turning towards the swordsman.

“Other than her?” Mac nodded towards Cris’ balled up form still asleep in the corner. “A group of Crimson Crush riders earlier. Three of them on bikes, maybe more. Killed her brother. To make a point, for fun, or for sport, I don’t know.” Her voice was flat as she distanced herself from the emotion of what happened, her walls going back up to keep everything and everyone at a manageable distance.

“I haven’t heard them ride nearby in a few hours, they might have moved on to more promising areas by now.”

She watched silently as Tristan voraciously devoured the first rations and started to tear into a second before she nodded towards Cris again.

“I just need,” She paused. “I want to get her somewhere safe, but not the missions, they’ve got to be overwhelmed. I know a place up in Renton if we’re headed back up into the city we can take her, drop her along the way? Just one extra stop.”

Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the slight pleading tone from her voice. She had some overwhelming need to protect this girl, or at least give her a fighting chance to survive. That feeling unnerved her, she didn’t get attached, she didn’t get involved because it meant complications, it meant commitment, it meant heartbreak.

Damn you Kovacs.

08:02:19 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

It is easy to become inhuman, even without augmentation. Always fight against it. It is the only thing worth fighting for.

Tristan glanced at Mac, his gaze warm and level, an expression halfway between amusement and curiosity on his face.

"Of course. You don't need to apologize for being human," he replied, echoing Kovacs' statement.

Having finished his breakfast, the swordsman produced a small travel toothbrush, clicking the base several times to activate the self-foaming toothpaste. He scrubbed his teeth before rinsing with another mouthful of water. He washed his feet, too, and put on clean socks before strapping on his boots. He glances around in some confusion before realizing that Mac is wearing his armored jacket. She shrugs, unapologetic. "Need something to go out into the Lion's Den with."

He gestures towards the waif curled up in the sleeping bag. "Let her wear it, she'll need it for the warmth at least."

Mac nodded, gently jostling Cris awake as Tristan finished gearing up. The young girl blinked awake in some confusion, before reality and the memories of yesterday crashed back in on her. For a moment she looks as if she's going to cry again, but she draws a deep, shuddering breath, letting only a single sob escape. She brushed her hair back from her face, looking up at Mac.

"C'mon," said Mac, "we're heading out. Put this on until we find you something more your size to wear."

Cris nodded wordlessly, slipping on the almost comically oversized jacket. She bunched the sleeves up so that her hands emerged from the cuffs. It didn't take but a minute for Mac to stuff her own gear into her pockets. She offered to help with the go bags, but Tristan declined.

"Doc said you weren't supposed to be doing any heavy lifting, at least not for another couple of days. Gotta give the sutures time to heal and the bones to set."

Mac grimaced, but didn't argue, hating the weakness imposed by her injuries. With both bags over one shoulder, and his sword in his right hand, Tristan led the way out from their bolthole, his eyes carefully scanning the surrounding terrain before gesturing the two women to follow. They made their way across the broken terrain, keeping close to the cover of buildings and alleys even though they were only headed down a block to where Tristan had parked. The dingy Ford Americar wasn't familiar to Mac, and she shot a glance towards the swordsman.

"There's no way Drift's ride would have lasted more than thirty minutes in this neighborhood," he replied, piling his bags in the trunk. Cris climbed in back while Mac settled into the passenger seat, missing the sleek urban lines of the Shadow. Tristan dropped into the driver's side, firing the engine. He grimaced at the rough idle, the little vehicle shuddering like a palsied animal.

"Where to?" he asked.

08:47:22 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – 10780 Leutzen Blvd, Puyallup Seattle

"North, towards Renton."

Mac tried to stifle a moan of pain as she pulled her knees up to her chin and she settled into the front seat whose springs had seen better days. Tristan hadn't pulled away from the parking spot, obviously waiting for something more from Mac before they left. She didn't need to look over to his face to pick up on the swordsman's concern.

"I'm ok." She tried for reassuring, but the pain lingered more than she would have liked. "Place we're headed is on Castleton. I'll get you in as we get closer. I'm not sure what state it's in."

With a silent nod, Tristan pulled away from the curb and started the drive north. The Americar rumbled through the burned out streets and Mac stared out the front windshield as they drive in, taking in the current conditions and general state of the city that sprawled around them. Tristan had definitely taken them well off the beaten path while they holed up and it took a while before anything even stared to resemble familiar sights.

She turned back as much as her wounded body would allow her to check on Cris who had otherwise remained quiet in the backseat as the car rumbled beneath them.

"Everything ok? You warm enough back there?"

The girl answered with a silent, slightly shy nod, still engulfed by Tristan's jacket. Her eyes seemed to be taking in the scenery just as Mac had been before, watching evidence of the chaos, looting and other destruction along with some signs of life returning as well while the swordsman took a combination of the highways and surface streets. He drove with as much attention to his surroundings as Kovacs had, always on alert and ready for whatever might cross their paths.

Mac turned back to the front of the car and checked her pockets, pulling her commlink and checking it for new messages out of habit as much as hope that there would be more contact with Frankie.

09:39:47 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – Studio Milan, 5151 Castleton Way, Renton, Seattle

It took them at least twenty minutes longer to arrive at Studio Milan than it should have, despite the fact that there was half as much traffic as usual for a Sunday. Much of the city still resembled a war zone: burned out cars and buildings, wreckage carelessly bulldozed out of the way by emergency service and security vehicles, flags of caution tape flickering on every street corner. Matrix support was spotty, and grid guide was nonexistent. Mac counted at least a dozen intersections with temporary stop signs in place of broken or wrecked traffic lights.

Surreal sights abounded.

They passed through one street which bore the scorch marks from the fuel fire left over when the cargo zeppelin draped across the apartment building on the right had crashed. No one had bothered to remove the wreckage yet, streamers of the fabric lifting body twisted in the winter wind.

Pedestrians wandered the streets aimlessly, the newly homeless, the walking wounded, the survivors. Mac was instantly glad that she'd chosen someplace other than one of the rescue missions to drop Cris at. She knew, without seeing, that they were completely overwhelmed.

It was pretty overwhelming, even for an operator as seasoned as Tristan was. She could hear him murmuring under his breath, his eyes somber as they scanned the ruinous damage done to the city. Eventually they pulled into the parking lot of Studio Milan. Mac let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding: the building was still standing and seemed mostly unscathed. The front was scorched from what had probably been a molotov cocktail of some kind, while the parking lot looked to have been the scene of a minor skirmish. She grinned ruthlessly. Underestimating the toughness of the whores here had probably cost some people their lives. Tristan's thoughts were moving along the same lines.

"Maybe you should get out first," he said, his lips twisting in a grin. Mac nodded, matching the expression, but just in case she made sure her shirt covered the pistol holstered at her hip.

True enough, as soon as she stepped out of the car, the front door opened, but the girls who stepped out were only carrying their shotguns, not presenting them for an immediate volley. Linda was right behind them, a mean looking submachine gun slung across her body.

"Josie," greeted the older woman in a neutral tone.

"I've got a couple of friends with me," replied Mac. "May we come in?"

Linda scanned the surrounding street, her movements echoing those of Kovacs' so strongly that Mac once more entertained the idea of a more serious link between them. The madam nodded. Mac gestured, and Tristan killed the Americar's engine, exiting with an uncharacteristic slowness. His instincts clearly were telling him that everyone was still edgy. Mac wasn't about to argue. Cris came out as well, gangly and awkward in the oversized jacket. Together, the three of them ducked through the door and into the lobby of the whorehouse that had changed Mac's life forever.

10:18:01 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – Studio Milan, 5151 Castleton Way, Renton, Seattle

Mac had ushered Cris in ahead of her, watching the girl practically shrink into herself as she passed the armed whores and as Tristan followed in behind her. She waited until everyone was inside and the heavy fire door was once again secured before she turned her full attention to Linda who stood near Mac, looking at her expectantly.

"I'm glad to see you're still standing, though I'd have expected nothing less."

Her statement and implied concern earned her a brief nod from the madam.

“The building’s a little worse for wear, but we managed all right.”

Nodding, Mac could feel the girls still circled loosely around her and her companions, but she made no effort to tear her attention away from Linda, not wanting to overstep her welcome or cause anyone to get jumpy.

“I appreciate you letting us in, I don’t want to monopolize much of your time but I was wondering if there was somewhere we could talk?”

Mac kept her face neutral, not giving away much as her eyes slid over towards Cris before returning to the madam’s own. It was then that she couldn’t completely keep her emotions in check and hidden from the older woman, though she was convinced Linda could see through her just about as Kovacs ever could.

“Of course,” Was accompanied by a curt nod. “I trust your friends will be kept in good hands while you’re gone.”

Mac glanced towards Tristan and a silent understanding passed between them with a slight incline of his head and a nod from her own. She let Linda lead her towards a nearby office that was bathed in a décor that matched the woman who walked confidently ahead of her even without the need of the submachine gun slung across her torso. She gestured towards a chair on the opposite side of an ornate desk with a long, slender, arm. Mac sank into the chair as the room descended into silence, and she knew she needed to make the opening volley. Her voice was low and soft when she started to speak.

“I truly am glad to see that you and the girls are safe. And you have to understand if I had another viable option I wouldn’t have just show up on your doorstep again.”

Linda’s brow raised slightly but the woman said nothing, allowing Mac to continue.

“This isn’t really about me at all, but the girl who is with me. She’s got nothing, she watched as a couple of gangers killed her brother for sport. I don’t have the ability to help her right now, not in the slightest, I’ve lost everything.”

Mac paused without meaning to, letting the entirety of her choice of words sink in.

“She needs a place to stay, and I couldn’t drop her off at the missions and leave her to a free-for-all. She's eager and willing to earn her keep, but she's not one of us. Not yet, maybe not ever.”

She waited for the madam’s reply, desperately trying to hold it together and get Cris’ situation straightened out, not quite ready to speak about what had happened to Kovacs. Not quite yet.

10:32:29 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – Studio Milan, 5151 Castleton Way, Renton, Seattle

Linda nodded, a momentary wry smile on her face that diminished the pain Mac read in her eyes. And she knew that there were more losses, enough to go around, but her own wound was still raw and overpowering. She wasn't ready to talk about it.

"Of course she's welcome to stay with us. And it won't matter if she ever walks our path. In truth, I always hope they don't."

The older woman fell silent for a moment, then stood and made her way to a small heater on the shelf. From the cupboard beneath, she withdrew two cups and a pair of teabags. Mac felt her fingernails dig fiercely into her palms, fighting back the tears as the smell of tea steeping filled the small space. Linda kept her back turned, waiting, her face turned towards the frosted glass window that was half the light in the room.

"He didn't make it, did he?" she asked at last. Mac's cheeks were suddenly wet.

"No," she whispered. A shiver shook Linda's shoulders, and she hugged her arms around herself. More minutes passed. At length, she brought the mugs over, setting one down in front of Mac before taking a seat on the floor and leaning back against the desk. They sipped their tea in silence.

"How?" asked Linda.

"Like a warrior," replied Mac without hesitation, her voice steadier than she anticipated. Linda smiled.

"He never believed me when I told him he was a romantic at heart."

Mac coughed, realizing suddenly that Kovacs could still hear them, although he'd remained uncharacteristically quiet. She wondered if he was deliberately giving them privacy. She found she didn't really care, suddenly welcoming the chance to mourn with a woman who'd clearly cared for Kovacs in a similar, if not as intimate, way. Although Mac still had her doubts about that as well.

"What are you going to do?" Mac glanced up to meet Linda's gaze, the older woman had that streetwise, inquisitive look that Mac feared would see through any artifice.

"I haven't planned too far ahead," she replied. "I have a stop to make to see if any of my gear survived, then I have friends who are waiting for me. After that, I guess just a day at a time."

Linda nodded, reaching out to rest a hand on Mac's knee. After a moment, the younger woman covered it with her own.

"There will be shelter here for you, if you need it," offered the madam. "And more, perhaps, in time. But shelter, at least, in this uncertain world."

10:49:37 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – Studio Milan, 5151 Castleton Way, Renton, Seattle

Her eyes narrowed slightly, questionably, at Linda's offer, specifically just what the 'more' might ever be. She didn't voice the question however, the woman's offer of shelter was already more than generous when she had already agreed to take Cris in as well.

"Thank you. You're offer is much appreciated and if it becomes necessary I'll be back."

Mac managed a soft smile and a gentle squeeze of Linda's hand before she reluctantly pulled her hand back from the madam's, breaking their connection in an act of self preservation.

"Is there anything you and your girls need right now? Anything I can do for you?"

She wrapped both of her hands around the mug, desperate for its warmth to stave off the chill and emptiness that filled her and still shuddered slightly as her eyes moved over the matte grey polymers that now made up her right hand.

Anything else you want me to share with her?

10:58:43 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – Studio Milan, 5151 Castleton Way, Renton, Seattle

Nothing pressing. Later, when things are settled, you and she might have another conversation.

Mac fought to keep the confusion off her face. Kovacs was so rarely vague that she couldn't help but spend extra energy puzzling over his statements when he was. Linda wasn't paying attention, though, her own gaze turned momentarily inwards.

"No, we're all right. We have enough food and water for another couple of days, we've been rationing carefully. And our ammunition supplies are enough, I don't think we're going to see any more action like we had the first couple of nights."

Mac agreed with that assessment. As tumultuous as the previous days had been, it seemed like the city was slowly returning to itself, shaking off the madness and insanity of those fire-shot nights and once more stepping forward into the cool winter sunlight. They might never be the same, probably wouldn't. But like every other disaster the city had weathered, it would live on. Mac liked to think that what had happened hadn't been even close to a mortal wound, but she knew better. Despite the outcome, the damage done, she knew it would have been worse if de Medici had been able to execute his plan as he'd desired. She looked down at the cool synthetic of her new right hand. They'd stopped it, but at what cost?

A sudden trill of laughter from outside the office brought Mac's thoughts back from their dark place, and she grimaced. "I uh, I should go before he steals all your girls."

Linda quirked a smile. "He did seem the roguish sort." She stood and accepted the mug back from Mac before following her out to the lobby.

Tristan stood with his arms around one of the girls, although the shotgun was still in her arms.

"Just sharing some pointers," he explained in response to Mac's questioning eyebrow.

"Uh huh." Her tone betrayed exactly how likely she thought that was. Rather than commenting, though, she took a deep breath, turning instead to Cris.

11:13:02 Sunday, 21 January 2063 – Studio Milan, 5151 Castleton Way, Renton, Seattle

She rolled her eyes at the swordsman as she tried to contain a slight smile, Tristan had always managed to find a way to lighten her mood with his frat-boy antics. When she turned her gaze back towards Cris she was a bit more somber.

"I want to introduce you to a friend of mine. Cris this is Linda, she's the owner of this house. These are her girls," She gestured to the few girls who still lingered in the hallway, armed and curious. "Linda has generously offered a place for you to stay, here with her girls where you'll be safe."

She watched both relief and fear flash across the girl's face, realization of just what kind of "house" Linda ran registered. Mac shook her head immediately as she scooped the girls frail hands into her own.

"As long as you're willing to pull your weight around here, cleaning, cooking, all those things you do well, you'll have a place to stay and they'll all look after you like you were one of their own. Linda has a way to reach me if it's necessary, and I'll try to come by in the next few days and bring you anything you might need that they can't provide. Ok?"

Cris nodded shyly and practically retreated into Tristan's giant jacket as her blue eyes took in the madam. One of the girls opposite of where they stood, a leggy blonde, let her weapon slide to her side on the sling it rode on before she stepped towards Mac and Cris and held out her hand.

"Hi, I'm Noelle!" She was friendly and seemed to genuinely be trying to make a connection with Cris and for that Mac was grateful.

"Noelle, why don't you take our new guest to her room." Linda's voice had an air of authority and elegance, someone you didn't want to disappoint or defy. The blonde nodded and offered her hand to the waif and they had barely made it halfway down the hall when pounding feet lead to the girl running into Mac like a ton of bricks and hugging her tightly.

"Thank you." Whispered the girl, her face buried into Mac's shirt and she couldn't help but hug the girl back. Eventually the girl let her go and once she got Tristan's jacket back around her own shoulders she turned back to Linda and thanked her again, for everything.

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

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

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

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

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

"Ahem!"

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

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

"Be careful out there," smiled the madam.

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

"You're incorrigible."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus Kovacs.

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

And I'm keeping him from her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did you ever wear that award?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She's alone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good, it's about time."

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

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

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

For Kovacs.

She shook her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ready to do this?"

"Born ready." Quipped Mario.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Alleyway, two blocks up?"

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

He grinned. "Good luck!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Seatbelt," instructed Mac.

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

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

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

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

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

"That was almost too easy."

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

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

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

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

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

Right.

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

"Uh. Okay."

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

"Frag it."

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

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

"Rollin'," replied Mario.