16:16:29 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Room 214, Commerce Motel 8, 7810 Telegraph Road, Los Angeles, CFS

"Helen."

'My mother was a common whore,' she mused, allowing the thin white motel towel to fall to the tile floor. Cosmo stood in front of the mirror, eyeing her nude body with an artist's critical gaze. Where another might see lush curves; perfect, heavy breasts, a lovely curved waist that flared toward hips that all but begged to be caressed, and limbs that an artist would kill to paint, she couldn't help but see the hints of cellulite that screamed to be erased in a punishing session at the gym, the faint asymmetry of her stomach muscles, and the scars interrupting the smooth pale curve of her left thigh. 'Not even a prostitute, really.'

The mirror was merciless, reflecting the image of a face almost painfully perfect in its symmetry. Lovely green eyes drew her immediate attention, due in large part to the thick frame of impossibly dark lashes that contrasted with the very definition of a peaches and cream complexion. Without the softening effect of lotion and blush, her cheekbones stood out, razor sharp.

'I don't look like her. Does that mean my father was a handsome man?'

She tilted her head to one side, running a perfectly-manicured finger along the line of her jaw. 'Was he a strong man? Handsome, with dimples, green eyes, and a lantern jaw?' Would he recognize her as blood if he saw her in a crowd?

Her head shook, almost of its own volition, and a single blonde ringlet bounced against the upper curve of her breast. 'It's useless to wonder, isn't it?' A soft sigh slid from between lips that would have been too full on another face; a softer, weaker face, but not hers.

'I could have been a star. An actress or an opera singer.' A quarter-turn and Cosmo began examining the satiny expanse of her back, fingers trailing across newly-healed flesh at the base of her spine. 'A successful litigator or a corporate lawyer; the toast of the trip-A elite.' Cosmo slid her hand along the curve of her lower back, leaning even farther forward to sheathe her legs in the most exquisite stockings; anything to draw her attention from the stricken expression that threatened to cut her like a monoblade.

'A devoted wife? Loving mother?'

She turned her back on the mirror and pulled something from the hanger on the back of the bathroom door. Watered silk and liquid fire whispered across her skin, evoking promises of decadence and violence; wildest dreams and worst nightmares all rolled into one.

'But they found me first,' she reminded herself, not needing to turn around to see the way her glossy vermillion lips pouted above the mandarin collar, 'and they made me into what I am today.'

Silken roses on gemstone vines twined along the bodice that looked as if it had been painted onto her while luxuriously soft fabric swirled about one leg, leaving the other exposed from the lower curve of her hip to the tip of her stilettoed heel. Eve, at least, had chosen her fate; Cosmo felt like the apple.

'A weapon.'

16:18:33 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Room 214, Commerce Motel 8, 7810 Telegraph Road, Los Angeles, CFS

"Wow," breathed Shield, "you're gorgeous."

Cosmo turned from the mirror with a smile, her introspections submerging effortlessly beneath a mask woven from years of training. She finished hanging her left earring, glancing down at the sheath of shimmering crimson which hugged the curves of her body. Jean-Paul had crafted an exquisitely detailed bodice, the straps of which appeared to be intertwined vines of roses that climbed the soft expanse of her chest to circle her neck in a high mandarin collar. This precluded the sinfully expensive rope of diamonds that Cosmo had planned on wearing, but luckily one of Jean-Paul's good friends was a jeweler, who had provided almost equally expensive earrings. The eighteen carat white gold chains simply dripped with diamonds, a statement almost as bold as the slit up the side of her dress.

"Why, thank you," she replied, watching for a moment as he fumbled with the double windsor for his tie. With a smile, she brushed his hands away, her own, carefully manicured fingers deftly taming the silk into the perfect knot.

"You clean up pretty well yourself."

Shield chuckles, reaching for his suit coat. "Hardly, I could probably have worn my sweatpants and no one in the place would have noticed. They're all going to be staring at you."

16:20:42 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Room 214, Commerce Motel 8, 7810 Telegraph Road, Los Angeles, CFS

"I'm not so sure about that."

She smiled and guided Shield over to stand in front of the mirror, gently turning him until he had no choice but to see his own reflection.

"People are wrong when they say that 'clothes make the man.'" Cosmo paused to meet his gaze in the mirror, nodding once as if to emphasize her words before she began to make minute adjustments to the pristine linen shirt. "This shirt, for example, isn't white. It isn't snow white or even off-white. It isn't ivory or chalk." She glanced up again, grinning. "It's bone-white and it's perfect for your skin tone. See these pleats here? It's texturing, just like the pattern on your suit. Your shoulders are so broad," she ran her hands along his shoulders, smoothing the fabric and illustrating her point at the same time, "that it works beautifully. Most men can't wear something like this without being overwhelmed."

Cosmo took the suit jacket from Shield's unresisting hand, guiding each arm into its proper sleeve and watching him intently as she stood to one side and fastened the front closure. She was quiet for a full minute before she handed him the metallic handkerchief for his pocket and waited as he slipped it into its proper place. The change in him was subtle but she knew that her words had the proper effect.

"Some men wear clothes like this because they think it will make them better. More handsome. More powerful." She laughed quietly and gave her head a little shake. "But they're wrong; they only impress themselves and people petty enough to be impressed by a label when they should be looking at the person."

"This was tailored to fit you, Eric, and you wear it perfectly. It enhances you, but it doesn't change a thing."

"Now." Cosmo smiled, sliding her arm through his. "Are you ready?"

16:24:03 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Room 214, Commerce Motel 8, 7810 Telegraph Road, Los Angeles, CFS

Shield glanced aside at Cosmo, not believing for an instant that more eyes would be on him than her. But he accepted her explanation, tension slowly leeching from his frame as she fussed over the fit of his suit. In all honesty, he did have to admit that it made him look damn good. Tucking his left hand into his pant's pocket, he tried on a rakish smile for size. Cosmo watched amusedly as he tilted his shoulders, working out the pose in the mirror to where it telegraphed the message he wanted. Memories surfaced of doing the same thing, of spending hours in front of a mirror or a classmate, shifting from one expression to another, from one message to another in silent body language. Shaking herself free of the reverie, she cocked an eyebrow at Shield.

"Anytime you're ready there, playboy."

Shield chuckled. "Almost."

Sliding an arm around Cosmo's waist, he leaned in and, with all the care due her careful makeup preparations, kissed her. He broke free from the embrace a moment later with a playful shiver.

"Now I'm ready."

Throwing his long coat over his arm, he opened the door for Cosmo to precede him.

12:59:09 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Outside The Bakery, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

She furiously stabbed the horn a few times.
In her current state, the light traffic almost seemed like an insurmountable obstacle.

"I can't. I can't go home. I need to get Lana. I need to make sure she's safe."

Ludi could already feel something blocking the back of her throat. She took a breath in, to try to steel her nerves.
Her voice sounded confident, the calm tone surreal to her own ears.
Behind her eyes, she could feel her brain trying to kick its way out.

She swerved in the next lane, barely missing a parked car near the curb.

13:01:27 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Northeast bound on W. 143 St, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

A pause filled the conversation as Ludi cut through traffic, horns blaring in her wake. Despite the cold fear gripping her heart, she could see Mikhail in her mind, his eyes hard as granite, mouth set in a tense line.

"All right," she heard him say, "but no stops anywhere else. Vadim will be waiting for you when you get home."

Ludi nodded as the phone cut out, her attention fully absorbed with the midday traffic.

16:26:48 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Room 214, Commerce Motel 8, 7810 Telegraph Road, Los Angeles, CFS

Ah, but it was sweet!

Slowly, softly, ever so slightly, she felt her lips part, breath sliding out in a delighted rush as he leaned into her, mouth hovering above her own. She could have tilted her face, moved her head and closed the distance between them but instead, instead she eased her shoulders, back arching in subtle invitation. It was sweet; a brief meeting of lips, bodies pressed close, if only for a moment. If she didn't close her eyes, well, she knew that this moment was for Shield and not for her.

Cosmo's smile never faded, even as she reached for the charmingly simple wrap hanging next to his coat. "All right," she laughed, slinging the garment almost casually across her shoulders as she stepped through the doorway and into the fading sunlight.

"Let's head out."

16:29:07 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Room 214, Commerce Motel 8, 7810 Telegraph Road, Los Angeles, CFS

"Your ride or mine?" asked Shield as they reached the parking lot. Cosmo paused for a moment, practical concerns insinuating themselves into her dreams of Hollywood elegance. She passed her keys to the man next to her.

"Take mine, you drive."

Shield nodded, pausing only when he saw Cosmo waiting by the passenger side of the vehicle. Hurrying around to her side, he opened the door for her with a flourish. Smiling, she curtsied before sliding into the seat. Shield whistled, closing the door and shaking his head at the expanse of pale thigh revealed by Cosmo's movements.

She didn't wait for him to pull out of the parking lot before opening the glove compartment and withdrawing the two prepaid commlinks she'd picked up from the vending machines outside the motel's lobby. Opening up the first, she keyed in the first of two sixteen digit account activation numbers provided by Scrye.

The first call was to the slim Asian operator herself.

16:32:28 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Telegraph Road, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo alloted herself one second to close her eyes, to breathe in deep, much like a foot soldier preparing for a dire strike against the enemy or a night predator set to pounce upon an unseen foe. Just one second to acknowledge, even embrace the challenge ahead of them before she slipped into character, her voice a throaty 'purr' across the line while she arched against the plush leather seat.

'Who needs a gun,' she mused, watching the road through thick black eyelashes 'when they have legs like these?'

"How are we looking tonight, Baby?"

16:32:49 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Telegraph Road, Los Angeles, CFS

Although Cosmo could clearly see in her minds eye the slim Asian operator, the voice on the other end of the line was just a simple electronic whisper, devoid of emotion.

"Locked on, five by five. I've got exterior camera feeds plus a backdoor into the interior feeds. I'm not sitting on them now because the hotel has a decent system and have doubled up on their spiders. Apparently someone special is going to be at this party tonight."

It wasn't surprising to Cosmo, but it wasn't welcome news, either. She let the silence stretch on the line as she watched Shield navigate the traffic.

"All right," she said at last. "Stay on the feeds and shift to the interior when we make the party."

"Copy all. See you in a bit."

Cosmo closed the line, tension shimmering in her smile.

07:00:02 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4054 East Gate Dr. Apt 4b, Bellevue, Seattle UCAS

A mind-numbingly loud blast of feedback from the trideo's speakers brings Tony lurching up right in his seat, hand groping for his weapon. A second or two ticks past as he grapples with the unfamiliar surroundings and the abrupt wakeup call. The job, headless corpses, safehouse, trideo, sleep, he remembers finally. Speaking of which, the ear-splitting buzz which dumped him out of his rest state had vanished, only to be replaced with a static-filled image of a curious masked face. A voice, youthful and male, exhorts:

"People should not fear their governments. Governments should fear their people. Arise, the time of reckoning is almost-"

The image suddenly cuts away to the that PacRimComm stand-by graphic before a NERPS commercial begins playing. Tony stares in bewilderment at the innocuous images parading across the trideo screen, thinking Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?

07:01:02 Monday, 15 January 2063 4054 East Gate Dr. Apt 4b, Bellevue, Seattle UCAS


It took Tony another few seconds to mentally connect what had happened. Pirates he thought, blinking hard and roughly rubbing his face. He’d been unfamiliar with the concept when he’d moved up here, and wasn’t generally annoyed by it, and it usually improved the dross of late night TV when done well.

At 7 o’clock in the morning, after a job last night, and after what had happened in the past week, it was annoying, and if he’d had more to drink before passing out it might have been expensive. Tony almost put the pistol he’d realized was in his hand away, thought better of it, and put it in the cargo pocket on his leg, flicking off the trideo on the way out to the bathroom down the hall.

Worst part about this place: no hot water when you want it. Second worse part: just so gray. Standing in line for the floor’s bathroom could have brought back memories from the dorm at the Academy; but whereas that place had brightly colored walls, clean floors, and a lightness about it (both from actual light and comradery), this was just so damned grey. Grey light dribbled though a grimy window at the end of the hall, grey figures (and not even many of them) ambled in the not-wide hallway. Dull, way-past-their-date old-style fluorescents bathed the hall and the actual bathroom in more shadow than light. Ancient industrial carpet so beaten down and worn-in with filth Tony wouldn’t dare walk down them barefoot. Tony’d picked this place because of these features, but actually having to be here slapped him in the face with the exact things he’d picked. And this isn’t even that bad compared to where you’d have to go next he thought to himself, walking through the door as his turn came to splash himself with frigid water ’cause there ain’t no way I’m getting in that shower.

16:07:02 Monday, 15 January 2063 4054 East Gate Dr. Apt 4b, Bellevue, Seattle UCAS


It had been an apprehensive but surprisingly boring morning and afternoon. Tony napped occasionally and exercised leisurely. He ventured out a few times to buy not-that-bad food and foul, self heating but efficient soycaf from the carts that had decamped from the street to the sidewalk while he’d slept. They were still out because of the not-that-bad business that the casinos and gambling dens did, nightshift workers dumped out with only a few nuyen left and an empty stomach. Not lit up in neon and crawling with people from the night before, the street looked almost as drab (if more populous) as the inside of Tony’s doss.

He cleaned every gun he had brought, checked and rechecked ammo, and heard the same news stories told, retold, analyzed and reanalyzed all afternoon.Thank god nothing about Bellevue. He’d reviewed the plans to the prison Andie was in over a couple of cheap beers leftover from the night before, revising and re-thinking the embryonic plan he’d thought up a couple of days ago. A few times he’d picked up the psec to call Reign, but put it down thinking let’s get done with this first, then call her; probably couldn’t get me not to go to her from here anyway. And waiting for the Johnson to call. Corporate prick is probably trying to figure out how to screw me, but his sense of protocol wouldn’t let him call until at least later on in the evening.

At a little after 4, he laid down for another nap as the grey light started getting dimmer in the windows. Just waiting on a call was his last thought.

17:28:43 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4054 East Gate Dr. Apt 4b, Bellevue, Seattle UCAS

Tony is dozing lightly when the buzz of his commlink wakes him fully. He'd killed the last hour and a half on the couch, flipping trid channels and catching cat naps. He's just in time to catch the end of a news story about a local man reported missing. The glimpse he gets of the picture seems familiar but then again it's just another one of many grainy surveillance shots he's looked at recently. Certainly in a city the size of Seattle, there's no shortage of missing and disappeared individuals. Tony rubs his hand through his hair as he answers the comm.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Francis? It's Mr. Johnson. I received your status update on the job. If you're available to meet this evening, I'll be at The Waterfront at six thirty."

A shadow flickered across Tony's face, just a moment of annoyance that's gone almost immediately. I hate how they try and phrase a command like a question.

"Six thirty," he replies tersely, "I'll see you there."

The line goes dead as the call terminates.

17:46:57 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4054 East Gate Dr. Apt 4b, Bellevue, Seattle UCAS

Corporate prick Tony thought, still bristling at the use of his last name. It was still more of an annoyance to Tony than anything; knowing it was one thing, but actually doing something with it was probably beyond where this guy was in the pecking order. Stripping off his shirt, Tony went over to the sink to wash up a bit before going. The hot water tap gave a spray of rusty water, then nothing. Rolling his eyes Tony grabbed his shave cream and razor from his bag, popped the self-heating tab on a cup of soycaf, took a swig, and used it to shave with. At least the water doesn’t smell bad he thought, toweling himself down after a wipe-bath and changing into fresh clothes for the meet.

18:24:06 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

You’d think they’d make these longcoats warmer Tony thought, a 3 levels up in a parking deck and 2 blocks away from The Waterfront. The pitted waist high plasticrete walls of this level did more to amplify the chill wind coming off the Sound than block it. Thankfully, a sweater layered over a knock-off collered shirt under the coat did help to keep all but the sharpest gusts off him. He moved briskly but not-that-hurriedly down the stairs to the ground entrance, pausing just before coming out of the stairwell to make sure his Browning was well secured inside its holster, and that both of them were out of sight but reachable if something happened.

Moving out into the street, Tony moved mostly with the flow of foot traffic south to the bar, dodging around the occasional eddy of knotted traffic. Should be on time unless someone pulls out a gun he thought.

18:36:35 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

Tony is, in fact, right on time, stepping up to the bar at just half past the hour. He takes a moment to scan through the happy hour clientele despite having seen both the Johnson and his two bodyguards immediately upon entering. Nothing aroused his suspicions, though both bodyguards did seem to be a bit more tense than he remembered. Seems like everyone's on edge these days, he thought, picking up his drink and maneuvering towards the Johnson's table. The same standard issue fake smile greeted him, although this time there were fewer pleasantries.

"My employers are pleased with the swift completion of the job," commented the Johnson, placing a slim certified credstick on the table. "Your agreed upon fee."

Tony dropped the credstick into his pocket, checking the balance with just a glance. He didn't trust the Johnson, but he wasn't going to commit to the poor etiquette of actually verifying the payment. In any case, everything did seem to be in order. He sipped from his drink, ready to make his exit when the Johnson spoke again.

"Based on your recent performance, my employers are considering hiring you for additional tasks. Is your schedule open?"

18:37:11 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

Externally, Tony didn’t react to what the Johnson had said, other than taking another sip of his drink. Internally, a quick debate resolved itself in the favor of nuyen; while he didn’t like the smarmy fragger in front of him or what he represented (and didn’t think that tossing a couple of grenades amounted to excellent work), he would need nuyen and a lot of it to accomplish his goal of getting Andie out of prison. And the best way to get that nuyen was steady work.

Setting his glass down again, Tony drawled “I’m sure I can make time, depending on the job and the pay. I will say I don’t like end-running-around my fixer though.”

18:39:54 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

The Johnson smiles humorlessly. "If you really feel that your fixer isn't going to be able to put soy on the table because he misses out on the ten percent commission off this next job, you're welcome to forgo that payment yourself. There'll be enough for you both on this one, since it's a rush job."

He turns a small trideo display unit so Tony can see it. At first, Tony thinks there must be some kind of mistake, since the location is familiar from his recon just a couple of days ago. But when the Johnson continues with the briefing, a warning cold coils itself around the base of Tony's spine.

"One of my employers' subsidaries owns a small office at 10441 Pacific Court Way. We've recently uncovered information that leads us to believe this office will be attacked tonight in an effort to sabotage a very important corporate meeting taking place. My employers would like you to proceed on site immediately, secure the office, and protect the meeting. It's a virtual meeting taking place on the servers in the office, so no one will be physically present. Nevertheless, the vulnerability of the infrastructure necessitates that we take precautions. I will have a passkey which will allow you access to all rooms of the office. Due to the critical nature of this job, my employers have authorized me to offer you fifteen thousand nuyen."

18:40:05 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

Uh oh. "What kind of attack, and exactly what are you saying about immediately?" The cold chill started moving up Tony's spine.

18:42:27 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

The Johnson consults an internal set of notes.

"The indications and warnings were general in nature, but we suspect a physical intrusion in an attempt to disconnect or destroy the company's servers. Obviously I understand that you don't come to a meeting like this properly equipped for an immediate departure on mission, so my employers would understand a short delay of no more than two hours before you reported on site. Does that clarify the requirements?"

18:44:01 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

Not really, no. Highly doubt you’re going to give up more though. “Just me, or are there reinforcements, or any resources other than nuyen?” Tony said, taking another sip of his whiskey.

18:45:57 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

The Johnson pauses to consult what Tony suspects is an AR information feed before answering.

"As it stands now, you are the only physical support we've been able to acquire to meet this threat. And, yes, nuyen is the only resource we currently have available."

18:47:01 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

Tony leaned against the table, right arm against the table propping his head up by the temple. Training exercise or suicide mission. Yay for getting what you wish for

“Ok, so let me get this straight: You want me, without known or possibly any reinforcement, and with basically what I can gather in the next two hours except what I’ve got on me, to make sure the server at the site will remain online for the duration of the meeting. You are not giving me anything other than what I have, which you do not know for certain, what I can contract on short notice assuming any of my fee is upfront, and my wits against an adversary of unknown size, equipment, and motivation. Does this about sum up what I’m going into?” he asked, numbering off the points with his free hand.

18:48:47 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

The Johnson frowns as Tony summarizes the tasking.

"Your encapsulation of the situation is accurate according to my data, although I do have some amplifying information. The opposition expected is between one and four individuals. We don't believe that our competitors have the resources available to field a larger team of assets."

18:48:10 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

Great, only at worst 4-1. Second bit of good news from this fragger. Maybe you walk out of this with some good nuyen.

"Ok, 20,000, 7500 up front, access to the intel that you’ve got on this, and I really hope you've got Matrix coverage on your end 'cause I can't do that or probably arrange for anybody worth a damn to get into place in that time period."” Tony took the last slug of his drink and continued, " Also, understand Mr. Johnson that while I’m pretty good at my job, I’m not going to charge into mortar fire. From what you've said, I don't think I'm going to do that, but I like to make my own assessments."” And I ain't going to be held responsable for blowing a wall out if it's needed.

18:49:04 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

" 8,000 up front, 7,000 after, with a 3000 bonus if you have to act in defense of the office," counters the Johnson. "Don't sweat the matrix coverage, we have assets in place to defend the meeting virtually if they try and get in that way. No, our primary fear is a physical intrusion against the servers."

18:49:37 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS


That’s a counter? Hell, I’m getting most of what I’m asking for from this guy. This has got to be a setup

“Ok, deal. I need to get going, but two final questions: is there a surveillance system in place at the location, and how much collateral damage to the building can I cause? I understand not causing any if possible.” Tony asked

18:50:08 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

"The office is part of a larger building that has an exterior surveillance system as well as cameras being present in the hallways. Our particular office, though, only features full camera coverage on the server room and its entrances. The outer office lacks full coverage. As for collateral damage, we don't really care what happens to the rest of the building, but I feel it would be prudent if you tried to prevent interrupting the power supply to our office in particular and the building in general." The Johnson answers all of Tony's questions in an offhand manner as he reaches into his jacket pocket for a certified credstick. Placing it on the table, he closes down his display.

"The agreed upon fee. Anything else?"

19:28:42 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 – Millennium Downtown Marriott, 333 South Figueroa St, Los Angeles, CFS

The Millennium Marriott downtown Los Angeles is the jewel in the Marriott Empire’s crown. Twin glittering spires of steel and glass rise twenty stories above the neon and chrome streets of East Hollywood, each emblazoned with the iconic symbol of the long-time hotelier. At the base of the towers is a massive three story glass atrium, built to highlight sweeping views of the delicately manicured grounds as well as the exotic downtown skyline. Palm trees and hibiscus surround the winding drive up to the arched glass of the main entrance, and islands of bottlebrush and honeysuckle anchor the heated outdoor pool immediately adjacent and overlooked by the atrium. Inside, acres of marble and brass evoke the classic lines of Hollywood decadence, reinforced by the numerous holo displays featuring past stars of stage and screen. Across the tessellated floor of the lobby is the wide, curving staircase that leads up to the second floor of the atrium and the Sapphire Ballroom, one of the most elegant venues in the entire City of Angels.

On a night like tonight that was especially true. Brilliant floodlights splashed fans of radiance across the exposed red carpet and the elaborately caparisoned denizens posing for the paparazzi. A phalanx of limousines, liquid black beneath the halogens, stretched back along Figueroa, each waiting to disgorge its passengers into the throng.

In contrast to the grand soiree at the front of the hotel, Cosmo and Shield made little impression as they joined the flow inside the center atrium, slipping in through a side entrance after debarking from Cosmo’s car poolside. Together, they drifted closer to the disordered line of perfectly coiffed and manicured flesh snaking its way up the wide winding stairs to the Sapphire Ballroom, finally being pulled into the flow that made its way towards the party beneath the glittering overhead nightscape.

The polished marble of the ballroom floor glittered beneath the golden illumination of inverted glass chandeliers, the intricately cut crystal tear drops seeming to hang in the air like fountains of frozen amber. Real flowering greenery cut the massive room into smaller, more intimate areas, the sweet perfume of roses and hyacinths competing with the delicate honeyed scents of a dozen different pheromone-enhanced aromas lifting from a multitude of artfully bared skin.

Cosmo couldn’t help but let her smile broaden into something infectiously wide, her dimples clear for anyone to see. This milieu was so familiar, so welcome to her that she found it almost impossible to maintain any sense of tension in her body. She knew the moves to this dance intrinsically, understanding it on an elemental level.

In contrast to her elfin state of relaxation, she could feel the tension simmering inside of Shield, his shoulders set and tight amidst the noisy throng. She couldn’t really blame him, the combat instincts ingrained so deeply in his psyche were completely wrong in this environment. In an effort to distract him, Cosmo nudged him in the direction of the buffet tables, curious as to what kind of spread went with a society soiree like this.

She wasn’t disappointed. The first table offered a bewildering variety of fruits and cheeses, vegetables and thin slices of elegantly folded prosciutto. A pair of melons etched like snarling lions peered out from a copse of baobab trees carved from a single block of ice. The second held both hot and cold finger sandwiches: spiced salami and black forest ham, grilled seasoned sausage with roma tomatoes, pheasant salad on whole grain baguettes dusted with caviar. But it was the third table which won Cosmo’s heart.

It was on this table, nestled amidst the artful fans of greenery and imported orchids, that two lustrous rivers of chocolate flowed down a careful stairstep of faux rocks. The first gleamed like liquid ivory, its buttery sweetness almost singing in the pale light. Paired with it, and contrasting in every way, was a sinful ribbon of pure dark cacao. The heady aroma swirled around Cosmo, enlivening her senses like the secret touch of a familiar lover. Piled at the base of the two rivers were pyramids of fresh strawberries, thick slices of bananas and apples, marshmallows dusted with caramel and almonds, and small squares of citrus cake.

Cosmo felt herself smile, a gesture of simple pleasure and innocent delight. Here, for a moment, she could lose herself in hedonistic bliss. Here she could push everything away, the fears, doubts, and above all, the certainty that gripped her about the night’s terrible denoument.

13:12:02 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Seattle, UCAS

Ludmila drove for what felt like an eternity.
Every light was red.
Every car she got behind was crawling forward.

The faster her hearth raced, the slower the world around seem to go. Every few seconds, she had reel herself back in; to ease her boot off the accelerator. Something primal was pushing her forward, faster and faster. She had to get to her daughter. At this very moment, nothing mattered more than to hold her, to make sure she was safe from the ugly and violent world her mother had dragged her into.

Thoughts crammed her head, crashing against each other. Flashes of images, of smells, of sounds. The blazing inferno from the explosion. The pulverized powdery brick and mortar hitting hear face as gunfire blew the wall apart. The sound of the motorcycle. The jerk of the gun in her hand. Blood. Fear.

Just what had happened? Had Sascha been blown up along with her problems? Was war on the Vory's doorstep, and more importantly, on her's?

As she neared Lana's school, she forced herself to calm down. Her hands were still shaking, and she felt like throwing up. Every breath hurt, and she knew for sure she had some nasty bruises taking shape under her shirt. She was still a few minutes out when she called the school, hoping she sounded calm and convincing when she informed the woman at the other end of the line she was coming by to pick up her daughter, because of a “family emergency”.

She doubled park halfway up the curb and stumbled out. Dust was still clinging to her jacket. Lana had a sentence halfway formed when her mother picked her up and darted back out. The school's secretary, sitting behind her desk, wasn't even out of her chair before Ludmilla was out the door and on her way to the car. It didn't happen often that parents who picked up their children were wired with enhanced reflexes and were fuelled by adrenaline and fear.

“Mommy! You're hurting me!” cried the child as Ludi almost crushed her against her chest.

The words barely made it to Ludi's ears. Everything felt like it was underwater. She sat the child down in the front seat, buckled her in tightly and went around, one hand stuff inside her jacket and around the Predator.

“Mommy, what's...” began Lana.

“Not now honey!” said Ludi, throwing the car into gear, leaving a van honking angrily behind her.

Lana knew her mother. She knew that sometimes, she wasn't happy. She knew it was best not to say or do anything when she was like that. She became even tinnier in her seat and stared at the glove box until they were home.

13:34:52 Monday, 15 January 2063- The Soren's Apartment, Renton, Seattle

Ludi's senses were on overdrive, the world around her resolved in diamond-edged clarity as her adrenalized system prepared itself to respond to a threat from any vector. She was jumpy, her accelerated nerves overcorrecting and overreacting in the glacial pace of cross-town traffic. A part of her wept for the curt way she'd spoken to her daughter, but that part was shouted down by the survival centers of her brain, her entire being shifted into combat footing as a result of the gunfight and destruction of the Bakery.

She did her best to control her breathing, working to try and calm the brutal rush of endorphins through her system. She tried to focus on the information she had, marshaling her recollections in order to brief Mikhail about the attack. Nothing in her memories, though, gave answer to the questions echoing loudly in the silence of the car. Who had attacked the Bakery? Was Sascha the target? Was she the target? Had she arrived a minute later, the saboteurs would have been long gone. And she would have suffered the same fate, presumably, as the Vory under-boss.

Ice crackled beneath her skin at this sudden thought, and she almost cursed aloud. Nowhere, it seemed, was she safe from her past and the decisions it forced her to make. Trying to work for Sascha in order to save Yuri only involved her in something greater and infinitely more dangerous.

Pulling into the parking garage beneath her apartment buildling, Ludi backed into her assigned parking spot. She spent a full minute scanning the rows of silent vehicles for any sign that she'd been followed or that an ambush was set. Lana stared wide eyed at her mother, fidgeting. She knew something was wrong but was afraid of saying something lest she make it worse.

"Stay here, baby, I'll be right back," Ludi instructed her daughter, popping the trunk via the console interface. Keeping her right hand free, she slid out from behind the wheel and hurried behind the car. With the trunk blocking her daughter's view, she shrugged out of her coat before draping the sling of the Ingram over her shoulder. With the buttstock fully collapsed, it was short enough that the barrel didn't show beneath the hem of her jacket. Once more donning the heavy coat, she grabbed her shorter armored jacket from the random pile of gear in the back of the car before closing the trunk.

Moving quickly to the passenger side door, she opened it and unbuckled her daughter.

"Here, baby, put this on." Lana nodded, holding out her arms so Ludi could drape the massively oversized garment around her small shoulders.

"It's too big, mama," she complained.

"I know, baby, but it's just for today," replied Ludi, zipping the jacket closed and tucking the sleeves into the pockets. Scooping up her daughter, she rested her on her hip, keeping her right hand free for action in case she needed to reach the SMG slung at her side. Together they rode up the elevator in silence.

Waiting on her floor, looking conspicuously like a Russian mob enforcer, was Vadim. The broad shouldered Slav wore a heavy longcoat that bulged with something slung on his right side. An unlit cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth, the sight of it awoke a desperate hunger in Ludi's veins. She cursed softly in Russian.

"Hurry up and get inside. The last thing I need is one of my neighbors calling Lone Star because you're lurking outside my door."

Vadim shrugged as if he couldn't see the likely outcome of that scenario. "Didn't have a key," he muttered.

13:39:04 Monday, 15 January 2063- The Soren's Apartment, Renton, Seattle

Passkey in hand, Ludi stopped short of sliding it along the maglock. She flashed a pair of green eyes toward Vadim.

“You've been here long?”

He gave her another very russian-like shrug, which both reassured and annoyed Ludmila. It meant he probably hadn't noticed, but it also meant he was sure enough of himself not to be too worried. She gave a cursory glance to the maglock. The casing was intact. No one had pried it off, at least, not from what she could tell. With her free hand, she gently pushed Lana behind her. She felt Vadim move behind her. As she glanced at him again, his hand had disappeared inside his coat, and that his cigarette hadn't moved.

She slid the passkey and heard the lock pop.

“Kitchen to the right. Two bedrooms to the left. There's a couch against the far wall. When I left, the curtains were open.”

Vadim shifted his weight. When Ludi pushed the door opened and went right, the felt him move to her left, his bulk shoving enough air aside for her to register. It took the both of them barely a second to clear the apartment, which made Ludi realized how small the place was...

Back in the living room, she noticed Lana's tiny silhouette framed in the doorway. The oversized jacket was just short enough to let her small legs poke out under, and it made her head look five times too small. For a brief moment, the image made her smile.

Then, she realized the thick kevlar lining probably made thing weight about as much as her daughter.

“Mommy...”

A few steps later, Ludi was scooping her daughter up and closing the door. She let out a sigh of relief she hadn't known was there. In the confine of her small home, with Vadim drawing the blinds and throwing the room into darkness, she suddenly felt safe. Her back against the door, her daughter pressed against her, she felt her legs weaken. She shook and buried her face into Lana's soft blond hair.

“Are you okay mommy?”

Ludi's jaw twitched as she held her emotions in check. Tears were clogging up her eyes and her mind.

“I'm fine honey. Everything's alright.”

Resting the child on her hip, she tried to give her what she hopped was a reassuring smile and brushed her daughter's hair away from her face. Lana tucked her lips in, peered toward Vadim and leaned in.

“Who's the big man?” she whispered, more curious than scared.

“He's a friend of mommy.”

“He's kind of scary...”

“I know honey, but he's nice.”

“Why is he here?”

"He's.... He's a special kind of baby sitter."

"Are you leaving?"

"No baby! Don't worry. Mommy's not going anywhere." she told her daughter, smiling.

As soon as Lana was on the floor, her mind went straight to business.

“Can I watch the trid? Pleaaaassseeee?”

“Of course baby, but not too loud ok?”

With the big armoured jacket still on, Lana plopped down on the couch and turned the trid on. Unlit cigarette still stuck between his lips, Vadim shifted something around under his coat and took a seat next to Lana. The little girl stayed glued to the trid, her previous fear of the big russian enforcer apparently dismissed.

Ludmila stood there for an instant, watching her daughter watch cartoons with a trained Vory killer. With everything that had already happened today, the scene seemed almost surreal. She had always wanted to keep her private and “professional” lives as separate as she could, not only to protect herself, but to protect her daughter. But today, all that had gone been literally blown out the window.

“You...” she began, not even yet aware of what she wanted to say.

Vadim slowly took his eyes off the screen.

“You want tea... or something....” finally stammered out Ludi.

“Tea. Sure. Please.”

It was only when she disappeared in the kitchen that she felt the urge to throw up.

With the sink running to cover up some of the sound, she heaved what little was in her stomach into kitchen's bin.

14:18:29 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Soren's Apartment, Renton, Seattle

Her throat burning from the bile recently forced through it, Ludi filled the tea pot before setting it on the stove to boil. The familiar actions helped calm her, and she could feel the frantic hammer of blood through her veins slowing. The weight of the Ingram reassured her as well. She'd felt helplessly outgunned during the street fight outside the Bakery, and resolved to never be lacking the appropriate amount of firepower again.

The whistle of the teapot interrupted her thoughts, and she clicked off the burner. Retrieving a pair of mugs from the cupboard, she unwrapped a teabag for each, pouring in the boiling water. She paced the kitchen as the tea steeped, the tactical centers of her brain now clicking into action. Freed from the crushing fear that gripped her heart when it seemed as if her family was in danger, she could now coldly weigh the pros and cons of her next course of action. Unfortunately she was confronted with too many variables to adequately plot her next step. In the end, it all came down to Mikhail and how he would respond to the information she had. Again she cursed bitterly, her voice hard in the empty kitchen.

Taking the tea out to Vadim, she took the last seat on the couch, settling her submachinegun so that Lana could lean against her. Her daughter was busy watching the trid and idly flapping the over-large sleeves on the jacket she wore. The minutes ticked by, interrupted periodically as either Ludi or Vadim stood and strolled through the narrow apartment, carefully scanning the street outside through thin parts in the blinds.

After what seemed like hours, but was only forty five minutes at most, Vadim's commlink buzzed. He grunted in acknowledgement.

"He's on his way up."

Ludi nodded to show her understanding, working to keep the foolish smile of relief off her lips. A minute later came a knock on the door. Undoing the deadbolt, Ludi stepped back, allowing the Vory boss, her lover, Mikhail to enter. He smiled, a brief but genuine gesture, reaching out to brush his hand across Ludi's cheek. She wanted to throw herself into his arms. Instead, she nodded to him briefly before making room for the other soldier that entered behind him. Together the three of them stepped into the kitchen, joined moments later by Vadim.

"All right," started Mikhail, "tell me what you know."

14:20:12 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Soren's Apartment, Renton, Seattle

By the time Mikhail was sitting at the uneven table in her tiny kitchen, Ludmila had gathered her nerves back. The panicked and frenzied state she had found herself in now seem so distant as to be ludicrous. It wasn't the first time she'd been shot, and odds were, it wouldn't be the last. During her army days, she had even had more than a dozen close calls; brief brushes with death that almost made her believe she was lucky. But this... Somehow this was different. Hell, if she hadn't had that smoke in her car, she would've been nothing but charred bones by now.

She had already downloaded everything her senseware had recorded of the events. With sights and sounds giving a full account of the short firefight, odds were, Mikhail would probably learn more by watching the recording than by anything she could recall. Ludmila pushed her pocket secretary across the table.

“It's all there.” she said, nodding towards the device.

She did her best to remain as business-like as she could. Women were a rare thing in the Vory, and Ludmila had earned her place by being “one of the guys” as much as she could afford. She resented the fact almost everyone in the organization thought she was only kept around because their boss liked her bedroom manners.

“I only noticed two people” she added quickly, fishing around her cargo pants for her pack of cigarette “and I definitely got one of them.”

Feeling suddenly very tired, she rolled her shoulders and ran a hand through her short black hair. To her surprise, she realized she was still somewhat covered in chalky debris from the bakery's explosion. Ludi quickly went from tired to somewhat self-conscious. Here was the man she loved, sitting across the table, and she looked like she had just dragged herself out of the gutter. She cleared her throat and pushed her hair out of her eyes.

“Beside the recording, I don't see what else I can tell you.... If they even remotely know what they're doing, both the car and the bike are gone by now. I didn't see either of their faces, and whatever they left behind was probably vaporized by the explosion.”

She starting to toy around with her cheap plastic lighter.

14:26:22 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Soren's Apartment, Renton, Seattle

Mikhail gestures carelessly to the Vory soldier, who scoops up Ludi's pocket secretary and begins to manipulate the data. Within a minute he's isolated and condensed the relevant footage, presenting it to his boss. Mikhail watches stoically, his face impassive. Ludi can tell, though, that he's upset. More than anything she wants to reach across the table to grasp his hand, to offer compassion? understanding? something to let him know that she feels his pain as well.

As the clip ends and begins to loop back, he frowns, then focuses on Ludi.

"I'm going to need you on this. Now that your daughter is safe, I need you on the streets."

Ludi nods, hollow inside at the thought of leaving her daughter alone, wanting desperately to light the cigarette dangling between her fingers. Mikhail watches the clip through a second time. Withdrawing a small notepad from his inner jacket pocket, he jots something down quickly before tearing off the sheet and handing it to Ludi.

"Take Vadim and go to this address. Ask for Mr. Xian. Tell him that I sent you. Tell him that the Vory are looking to replace some real estate they lost today. Gauge his reaction. He'll have a message for me as well."

Ludi glances down at the neat Cyrllic to read an address in the heart of Seattle's Chinatown: 3044A West King Street.

14:26:22 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Soren's Apartment, Renton, Seattle

She nodded, the lighter in her hand finally flicking to life. The note quickly went up in flame as Ludi committed the information to memory. She released in into the ashtray only when the was almost too close to her fingers. The fact that Mikhail was sending her out on an errand, and with one of his personal soldiers meant a lot to Ludi. He had almost always cajoled her, protected her. She had always fought tooth and nails to get into the heavier Vory operations, but Mikhail, either out of care or simple face had kept her doing mostly support work. Now as things heated up around her, she was apparently moving forward into the underworld.

For a moment, she saw the young girl working the counter at the bakery. She saw her, slumped over the counter, half bored, half daydreaming. She wondered who was going to tell her mother.

“I...” began Ludi, before stopping to throw a quick glance towards the two Vory soldiers. “Could I have a word with you? Please.”

14:28:43 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Soren's Apartment, Renton, Seattle

Mikhail paused in the act of pulling his gloves on, glancing first at Ludi and then to the unnamed soldier beside him. He nodded, and the man stood. Vadim didn't wait for his boss' direction, already exiting the kitchen towards the front door of the apartment. Dimly, over the incessant blather of the trideo, Ludi heard Lana's voice as her daughter engaged the bulky Vory soldier in conversation. Vadim's answering rumble did nothing to betray the nature of the question. Mikhail's hand on hers brought Ludi back to the moment, though.

"Yes, sweet Ludi?" asked Mikhail.

14:30:43 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Soren's Apartment, Renton, Seattle

For a moment, she couldn't take her eyes off his hand. She felt nothing but that touch. She heard nothing but the sound of her own hearth in her ears. Her mouth felt dry and the hair on the back of her neck twitched with anticipation. A smile almost crept up unto her lips.

“I wanted to talk to you tonight... but the way things are going, I thought you should know now.”

She turned her hand palm up, brushing her slender fingers between his.

“I was at the Bakery because I was supposed to meet Sascha. He had me bug a place on Fairview, in Auburn. Place called Wallingford Pizza House. I told him I worked for you, and not him...”

She withdrew her hand and finally lit her cigarette. Taking a deep breath in, she found another fire brewing, inside her. The anger was starting to flare up.

“He threatened my brother. My sister.” she pushed the smoke out of her lungs.

“He threatened my family Miki.”

Her jaw twitched.
Something dark clouded her green eyes.

14:32:08 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Soren's Apartment, Renton, Seattle

Mikhail watched the smoke curling from Ludi's mouth, almost but not quite meeting her gaze. His own face was impassive, set and terrible in its visage. At last he drew a breath and glanced towards the front room.

"Thats...interesting."

He paused. "Jaro!"

The, until now, nameless soldier poked his head around into the kitchen. "Tsar?"

"Wallingford Pizza House. Everything about it."

"Hemeдлehho, Tsar." Jaro disappeared back around the corner. Mikhail turned back to Ludi. Again, he said nothing for a long minute.

"Sascha is dead. He can no longer threaten you. But you should have come to me immediately."

14:35:01 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Soren's Apartment, Renton, Seattle

Ludi tapped her cigarette on the edge of the ashtray, looking for a way to avoid Mikhail's gaze. She knew he was right, but accepting the fault on her part was a whole other thing. She swallowed. She felt like a scolded child and had an urge justify herself.

“I just wanted to get the whole picture before bringing it to you.”

She sucked some smoke into her lungs and pushed it back out her nose.

“I've got the bugs' frequencies and the decryption keys. I never gave them to Sascha, so right now, no one has access to them.”

Ridiculously enough, in the back of her mind, Ludi felt like Sascha was still alive. She frowned at the thought and tried to ignore it. The Vory lieutenant was just a petty criminal, like herself, and not some sort of all powerful boogeyman. Odds were, those that had blown up the Bakery had been after him and his oh so pleasant demeanour.

Raining ashes again, she hoped Oracle was going to come through with the comm call trace. Even if Sascha was indeed a pack of charred meat, his goons probably still had Yuri stashed away somewhere... Once that little problem was fixed, everything could go back to normal. Well, except the fact that without a pay from the bugging job, she was going to be strapped for cash real quickly...

14:37:18 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Soren's Apartment, Renton, Seattle

Mikhail waived his hand. "что сделано, то сделано. Keep them in your pocket, check on them to see what they've picked up. They may factor in to our investigation but it's too early to determine that now. We need to know if this is an isolated incident or if this marks some wider attack on us. I need you sharp on this, Ludi."

14:37:27 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Soren's Apartment, Renton, Seattle

Ludmila nodded curtly. She was relieved to still be in Mikhail's good graces, and the fact he trusted her enough to hand her an assignment meant a lot. She knew he was probably going to get a bit of flak from the more conservative Vor, and she appreciated the gesture.

“Thank you Miki. I won't let you down.”

As she moved to crush her cigarette, she winced briefly. With all the excitement and worries, she had completely forgotten about the bruises hidden under her clothes. In fact, odds were, she still had a bullet or two stuck in her kevlar vest. She quickly regain her composure and hid the pain behind a mask of professionalism.

“I'll call my aunt so she can watch Lana, and then I'll be out.”

14:39:50 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Soren's Apartment, Renton, Seattle

Mikhail nods, standing and pulling his gloves on. He steps out into the front room, favoring Lana with a warm smile before turning to Jaro and Vadim. The slim Vory gestures with his pocket secretary, ready with the information requested.

"Mafia. Gianelli family." Jaro's keeps his tone bland, his volume sotto voce. Mikhail nods slowly, a grimace twisting his lips. He taps his hands together twice before motioning towards the door. Vadim pulls the slim panel open, glancing up and down the hall to ensure no one is waiting before stepping back and allowing the Vory Tsar to step through. Mikhail glances back at Ludi.

"Be careful. Call me as soon as your meeting is over."

14:41:27 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Soren's Apartment, Renton, Seattle

Ludmila felt like going after Mikhail. She felt like throwing herself at him. But she did nothing of the sort. She just stood there, boots firmly planted on the rough brown carpet that covered the living room's floor. She stood, nodded once in what she hoped looked confident, and watch the door close. What light had been filtering from the hallway disappeared, and her world became grainy and the colours dimmed out. She rubbed her eyes and ran both hands through her hair. This day was starting to get too long for her taste.

She had barely slept, and then, she'd spent half the day crawling around of her hands and knees, doing dirty work for someone who was probably dead. To top it all off, she gotten shot at, and was now carrying bruises the size of her fist.

On the bright side, if Sascha was indeed dead, maybe her issue with Yuri could be forgotten... Maybe.

Vadim cleared his throat and brought her back to reality. She wondered how much he knew about Miki and her... but then again, almost everyone knew about Miki and her. After all, what kind of lowly Vory soldier got a visit from the Tsar, to their personal home, in the middle of the day?

Behind her, she could hear Lana change the trid channel ever half second.
Lana. She had to get a babysitter. She sighed and started taking the armor jacket she still wore.

“If you want something to drink or eat, just go ahead.” she told Vadim, jerking her thumb back towards the kitchen.

“I need to change and make a call.”

She started to make her way to the bathroom.

“Mommmyyy....”

Ludi stopped and smile at her daughter.

“Yes pumpkin?”

Lana was laying on her side on the couch, her cheek pressed into the arm rest, the long sleeves of the jacket hanging off.

“It's really warm. Can I take it off?”

“Of course baby.”

She had almost closed the door behind her when she heard Lanal call out again.

“What is it?”

“Can we go to the park?” said the little girl, struggling out of the heavy Kevlar clothing.

“Not today baby, mommy has to go back to work.”

“Oh...... Okay.....” was all Lana said after a brief moment of silence.

Feeling the guilt sting at her hearth, Ludi closed the door and rested her back against it. The woman she saw reflected in the bathroom mirror look twice as hold as she remembered. With great care, she took her armored jacket off and, with all the gentle ease she could muster, she pealed her top off. The simply feeling of the fabric gliding across her side and stomach made her grind her teeth. With a frown, she inspected her body in the mirror: she was now the proud owner of two nasty looking purple looking bruises. She knew from experience that tomorrow was going to be the most painful day, and that there was no way in hell she was going to let Miki see her naked any time soon. She prodded at her ribs, and although it felt painful, nothing seemed loose or broken. Sliding the mirror aside, she rummaged through the small medicine cabinet and quickly downed a few over the counter pain medicine. It wasn't anything fancy, but it would have to do for now.

She splashed some water on her face, slid back into her tank top, and reached for the phone. It rang for what felt to Ludi like an eternity.

“Zina's Beauty Salon, this is Varya, how can...” started Varya in the most monotone voice she could muster.

“Hey it's me.”

“Ludi! How's it going!”

Something popped on the other end of the line as Varya chrewed on something.

“Lousy day...”

“I hear you.” her voice grew into a whisper “same thing on this end...”

Ludi heard chatter in the background, and quickly recognized her aunt's voice.

“NO ZINA. IT'S LUDMILA. NO I DON'T THINK SHE'S COMING IN TODAY” shouted Varya without covering the phone “You're not coming in today are you?”

“I don't...”

“NO SHE'S NOT COMING IN TODAY. I JUST ASKED HER. Hey, you wanna go out later?”

“I can't. I've got something planned. Listen I...”

“It's cause I think I might have this date, but he said he might bring friends, you know, and I thought since you...”

“Varya, I can't really chit-chat right now. I was just calling to tell I was going to drop Lana by in a few minutes.”

“Isn't today a school day?”

“She finished early today.”

“Oh...”

“So yea, I'll be dropping her in a few minutes. I need to be somewhere and I've got no one to watch her.”

“That's fine Ludi. There's barely appointments today, plus I doubt we'll get walk-ins with... hold on. YES, IT'S STILL HER. NO. I... WAIT.... You free for a sweet sixteen cut and makeup on Thursday?”

Ludi sighed into the phone. Her ribs were hurting.

“I don't know Varya... I guess. Tell Zina to book it. I gotta go now.”

She hung up without waiting for an answer, her ear still ringing. She had to change into clothes that didn't look like she'd been in an explosion, top off her Predator, switch the ammo out for Ex-Ex and pack some toys for Lana. Strangely enough, as she turned the light out in the bathroom, she wondered if Vadim had any kids.

14:55:39 Monday, 15 January 2063 - The Soren's Apartment, Renton, Seattle

The pills must be kicking in, thought Ludi as she pulled the soft armor top down over the ugly purple bruises. The compression from the kevlar weave shirt didn't hurt nearly as much as she'd feared. Rummaging through the pile of less dirty clothes in her closet, she came out with a black Seattle Screamers t-shirt, which would conceal the obvious lines of the FFBA top.

Dumping her paddle holster onto the bed, she slipped on the shoulder rig for her Predator, balancing the weight of the pistol beneath her left arm with a pair of clips beneath her right. She'd already topped off the one in the weapon, jamming new gray blocks of caseless into the clip from her ready store beneath the nightstand. The Colt was in a breakaway holster on her ankle as back-up. And, just because she'd tangled with too much heavy caliber ordnance in recent memory, Ludi dumped the Defiance into the pocket of her Armor Jacket. She longed to keep the SMG with her, but if what she suspected about this meeting was true, there would be no way it would pass. Scooping up her duffel from the floor, she jammed the weapon inside along with a couple of slap patches, her autopicker, and a white noise generator.

Once more she rummaged through the mountain of gear flowing out of her closet until she found the small backpack that Zina bought for Lana's birthday. Opening up the main compartment, she gathered up a few of her daughter's favorite diversions: a book, a couple of dolls, her stuffed basilisk. Carrying both bags with her, she moved quickly into the kitchen to grab a couple of juice boxes and a granola bar.

Coming back out into the living room, she scooped up her daughter.

"C'mon, baby, get your shoes on. We're going to go see Aunty Varya!"

Lana's face brightened, and even as distracted as she was Ludi wondered for a moment just what Lana and Varya got up to while she was away.

"Yay!" cheered her daughter, bounding away only to return moments later with her sneakers that featured blinking LEDs along the soles. She sat in the middle of the hall and struggled to get them fixed on her feet correctly. Ludi successfully resisted the urge to help her, knowing that Lana would only be upset. She glanced over at Vadim trying to gauge his mood, but she would have better luck trying to figure out the wall's emotions. The Vory soldier regarded the child with bovine passivity.

After a few minutes Lana clambered to her feet and smiled triumphantly at Ludi. She reached for the backpack held in her mother's hand. "I can carry it!"

Ludi nodded, helping her daughter slip the straps over her shoulder, then steadying her before she toppled backwards under the weight of the bag. Lana got herself oriented and together they headed towards the door. Vadim once more moved without seeming to rush, peering out into the hall as he held the door for mother and daughter. Ludi made sure the maglock engaged behind them.

This time they took the elevator to the first floor, turning left out the foyer towards Zina's shop. Varya was actually standing outside the door as they walked up, cigarette held carelessly in her manicured fingers. She flicked it away at Ludi's look, exhaling a stream of smoke before kneeling the give Lana a hug. Ludi waited until her daughter was through the door into the shop before giving her friend a quick hug herself.

"Thanks. I owe you," she whispered.

Varya waved her hand dismissively, her carefree smile vanishing as she saw the lines of worry on her friend's face. "Be careful out there," she admonished.

"Always," replied Ludi before turning to rejoin Vadim where he stood by the front door. Together the two Vory headed down to the parking garage. Habit brought Ludi to her own vehicle, and she paused to ask Vadim if he would rather take his car. She found him already standing by the passenger side of her car, clearly uninterested in driving. With a shrug she dumped her duffel in the back seat and slid behind the wheel. Punching in 3044A West King Street into the navigation system, she waited for the computer to crunch the numbers before firing the engine and pulling out of the garage, following the dashed line on her virtual console.

15:05:12 Monday, 15 January 2063 - I-5, Seattle

From the looks of things, it was going to be a rather boring drive. The I-5 wasn't a particularly beautiful and scenic route, and after she had asked him if he preferred a certain kind of music, Vadim had simply shrugged. He kept glancing outside at the passing cars, like some tired pitbull. Ludi had occupied herself for a good 5 minutes, just rushing through all the channels, giving each station a half second chance to convince her.

Silence finally came back to the small compact car. She lit a smoke and the ventilation kicked in. For some reason she couldn't fathom, she felt the need to do “something”, anything.

“Did you serve?” she said after a cigarette and another 5 minutes of complete silence.

15:36:29 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 3044A West King Street, Seattle

Vadim grunts in what Ludi assumes to be acknowledgment, gesturing towards his shoulder with his left hand.

"Da. Five years. Lefortovo."

The big russian lapsed into silence once more, and Ludi was unwilling to press him. Lefortovo was a hard slam, a concrete hell that broke the toughest of men. Although officially denied, she knew that both the GRU and the FSB had black cells at Lefortovo: rooms where people went and never returned. Clearly someone had looked out for Vadim during his time, and Ludi suspected that his left shoulder would bear the chained hammer tattoo indicative of Lefortovo.

The mindless banter of the radio fills the cabin of the vehicle, underpinned by the hum of the tires and the rush of fellow commuters on the interstate. Traffic was just beginning to pick up as the end of the work day approached, and they made good time from Ludi's apartment into downtown. She exited the freeway at Dearborn Street, making the right onto Dearborn before working her way across the surface streets towards the specified address. Just a few blocks off the freeway, though, she found the first Triad tags. The buildings in Chinatown crowded close together, four and five story apartment complexes with stores on their ground floors filled the blocks. Glittering neon was everywhere, shining brightly despite the daylight hour.

3044A West King Street turns out to be the address for the 108 Lotus Flower Pagoda restaurant, a large three story brick building with a small glass store front. As Ludi slowly cruises by, she can see a bevy of roast duck hanging in the window, along with piles of steamed bau and other dishes. Vadim rubs his hand across his jaw, callouses rasping against the stubble there. He points towards the alleyway between the restaurant and a small electronics store. Ludi nods, pulling in and parking. The two Vory pause in the silence of the car, heads turning and eyes scanning, alert for any kind of ambush. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Ludi steps out into the winter wind, followed by Vadim. Together they head towards the front of the restaurant.

15:36:42 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 3044A West King Street, Seattle

Stepping out of the car, Ludi tucked her head between her shoulders. She thought, for a moment, to slip into the comfortable fur of her shapka but decided against it. She had next to no idea who they were about to meet, and as much as the other member of Miki’s crew knew not to say anything about her famed hat, strangers might not show the same kind of “courtesy”. Hands deep inside her jacket’s pocket, she peered up and down the alley. She’d already been caught flat footed once too many times today.

Come to think of it, she’d been caught off guards too many times these past few days: once at the shipping lot, once at the bus depot, and then this very at the bakery. The fact she was still alive and almost none the worse for wear was almost a miracle in and of itself. She would’ve liked nothing more than to chalk it up to skills and experiences... but in a nutshell, she’d been lucky. With time, she had grown overconfident with herself, and she was now reaping the seeds of that confidence, one bullet at a time.

Drudging through the melted muck of the snow and city dirt, she swore to herself she’d never grow complacent again. Ever.

As they came upon the small glass store front, Ludi paused for a moment, her eyes lingering for a moment on the food on display. Her stomach grumbled at the sight, making her realize that her last meal was far behind her, and that whatever had been left was now in her kitchen’s bin. Maybe they could get something to go... Somehow, she was convinced Vadim wouldn’t complain if she bought him a later dinner-early supper.

15:49:07 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 108 Lotus Flower Pagoda Restaurant, 3044A West King Street, Seattle

Inside, Ludi lets the heady warmth of the restaurant wash over her. The walls are painted a plain white that has faded beneath layers of smoke and grease to a formless pale yellow. The red piping and trim are still bright, though, as are the colorfully decorated paper lanterns that hang from the ceiling beams. The aromas are rich and intoxicating, and once more her stomach reminds her of the length of time it has waited. It is quickly overridden, though, by her new found sense of survival. She and Vadim are the only pale faces in the entire restaurant, a fact which slowly percolates through the crowd of patrons. The noise level drops and all eyes turn towards them. Ludi doesn't care except for the two tables of lean young men, one on either corner of the restaurant, who are beginning to stand. Adrenaline floods her system, and time begins to slow as her reflexes shift into overdrive. She can hear Vadim's breathing deepen as he charges his body with oxygen for the coming fight.

A fight which doesn't come. At that moment a short, matronly Chinese woman comes charging out of the kitchen.

"Zuò xià dìpǐ! Zuò xià dìpǐ!" she heckles the young men, slapping the nearest one, who cringes away from her. Glaring at them with a warning gesture, she turns to Ludi and Vadim. All smiles, she bows and motions for them to follow.

"Come, come!"

The noise level in the restaurant returns to normal as Ludi and Vadim follow her between the tables and to the wide staircase that leads up to the second floor. In contrast to the manic activity of the dining room below, the second floor is virtually silent, empty save for only half a dozen people. At a large round table sits an older gentleman, primly dressed in a plain black suit and tie. His bald head and hands are liver-spotted, his skin the color of polished teak. But his eyes are still bright, his gaze penetrating as he watches Ludi and Vadim approach.

Next to him is a young girl, perhaps in her early twenties. Her face is pale and beautiful, framed by long, straight hair of such an intense black it almost glows beneath the golden illumination from the overhead lanterns. Her gaze is on the bowl of soup in front of her that she stirs lazily.

Behind the pair at the table stand four young men, clearly Triad soldiers. They're dressed identically in conservative black corporate chic, and all armed. Ludi doesn't know what hardware bulges their coats, but its clearly something heavier than a Predator.

The old woman bows to the man before retreating down stairs where Ludi hears her voice whipcrack again. The old man at the table smiles, gesturing to the chairs across from him.

"Dobro pozhalovat', pozhaluysta, sadites'" he begins before switching to english. "My apologies, that is all the Russian I know."

With a glance towards the Triad soldiers, Ludi accepts the invitation, sliding into one of the chairs while Vadim occupies another. After a moment, three young serving girls appear bearing plates of food. Place settings appear in front of Ludi and Vadim as well as glasses of water and small porcelain cups of tea. The young girl takes a plate and fills it with helpings of shrimp fried rice, bbq pork, dan dan noodles, bau, and whiskey chicken before setting it in front of the old man, who favors her with a small nod before smiling at Ludi and Vadim.

"I always find that discussions are more palatable with a good meal. My name is Mr. Xian. How may I be of service?"

15:49:41 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 108 Lotus Flower Pagoda, 3044A West King Street, Seattle

Ludmila took a seat; taking great care to move with what she hoped was a collected calm. She had never been quite keen when it came to social calls, and up until now, she hadn’t quite come to grasp with the entire situation. She was there, in Triad territory, as an envoy of something much bigger than herself. Throughout her career, both in and out of the shadows, Ludi had always been the muscle. She’d been the though woman who cracked heads and broke into places. Now, somewhere between the front door of the restaurant and the chair she was sitting on, what was expected of her had shifted.

She found her mouth drier than she would’ve liked, and had to put in a lot of effort into keeping the frown from her face. The young woman forced a smile unto her thin lips for the man in front of her, while her eyes peered up at the four triad soldiers. The table felt heavy under her raised knee, and weight seemed centered. It would tip, if needed. It was 21 paces back to the stairs, and about 22 feet from the window to the street. It was doable. It wouldn’t be fun, but it was doable.

The cigarette pack in her jacket felt like it weighed a ton. She cleared her throat, leaving the food untouched for the moment as she struggled to ignore the enticing aromas.

“We thank you for seeing us Mr.Xian.” she began, painfully conscious of how her English paled in comparison to the old man.

“This...” she continued, finding the strange officious tone of her voice annoying to her own ears “this offer of...” she paused briefly, racking her brain for something that sounded better than food “of meal is very generous.”

Ludi bowed her head slightly in what she hoped was a gesture of respect. She glanced briefly at Vadim before continuing.

“We have been sent by Mr. Rodion. Our community is looking to replace some недвижимость... some propriety we have lost today.”

She wondered if her Ex-Ex would go through the table.

15:51:24 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 108 Lotus Flower Pagoda Restaurant, 3044A West King Street, Seattle

Mr. Xian sips from his tea, a thoughtful look on his face.

"I have been told of the accident which occurred earlier today. Please accept my condolences for your loss, and convey them to my good friend Mikhail as well. We of the Octagon share the loss of our brothers and sisters of the code."

As one, all of the Triads in the room bow their heads. A moment of silence passes before Mr. Xian speaks again.

"I can assure you that it was none of my people who were involved in this accident. However, I have spoken with several of my informants who indicate that another of the Seattle families was involved. One of the Japanese families."

Again, Mr. Xian pauses to sip from his tea. Ludi's mind races through unfamiliar channels. Yakuza? What would they have to gain from attacking the Vory? Or was this attack more specifically aimed at Sascha? If so, does that mean he was involved with the Yaks somehow? The questions without answers made her head hurt, and it was all she could do not to press her knuckles to her temples and grind her skull to mush. Instead, she took a sip of tea. Hot and flavorful, she let it roll down her throat and felt a strange calmness seep through her.

Mr. Xian smiled at her, as if relieved that she was actually accepting his hospitality. "I don't yet know which of the Japanese families was involved, or why. But please reassure Mikhail that the resources of the Octagon have been mobilized. We will have answers."