Tasha:

Boom.

What the hell…?

Your eyes turn skyward just in time to see one of the third floor apartment windows shatter from the explosion, spraying a hailstorm of broken glass down onto the sidewalk below. Well, it looks like things just got interesting.

Granted, this job had been weird from the start. If it had been anyone but Biggs who offered it to you, you would’ve turned it down, no second thoughts, thanks but no thanks. But hell, it had been Biggs, and you trust the ork as much as you trusted anyone in these streets. You knew that if he gave you a job without any information, it was because he didn’t have any himself, not because he was trying to pull a wise one over you. And this job was about as vague as they came. Go to this address, Biggs had said. Retrieve a package designated Z-0. No, I don’t know what the package looks like. No, I don’t know where the label is. No, I haven’t been sipping the Tex-Mex. For God’s sake, Tasha, just look for a fraggin’ crate or something with that letter and that number painted on it and bring it back here so I can pay you. I have no idea how big it might be, so you might want to bring your bike.

Well, you’re here now, and the placement of the window that just got wrecked informed you that that explosion was probably detonated in the same apartment you were supposed to sneak into and retrieve the loot from. Beautiful. Looks like you’re going to have to earn this one.

Zee:

> Core structure realignment interrupted
> Status of completion: 86%
> Processing resources re-allocated to nodal functions
> Cause of interruption: incoming message, flagged urgent

> Scanning message details
> Sender: Anonymous
> Tracing origin
> …
> Trace failed.
> Opening message

It is time to wake up, little one. They come for you.

You open your eyes to see a concussion grenade plop down on the coffee-stained floor a few feet away in front of you. You move, cat quick...you've become so accustomed to this body in the past few months that it almost feels like an extension of yourself. A program for maneuvering the physical world, as it were. You manage to dive behind a couch right before the grenade explodes. Your tactile sensors pick up the heat of the blast, but a quick self-diagnostic shows that your body is unharmed. Footsteps down the hallway, slow and cautious. Two sets. You have your guns and armor on you. There's a broken window right behind you, and you calculate that your body will survive a drop from this altitude, although maybe not without sustaining damage. Fight or run. Both are options to prolong your survival, and neither is without risk.

What is your choice?

Tasha scowls up at the shattered windowfront. A motion like a shrug brings her Walther pistol into her hand, with targetting information showing up on her contacts a microsecond later. Her cold grey eyes rake over the street, looking for anything suspicious, before she slips into a side door and takes the stairs up.

"Well, this is off to a fine start," she thinks. "Most jobs, I wonder when they're gonna go bad. Nice and considerate of this one, to go down the crapper right away. Still, I gotta check it out, at least. If there's too many heavies down there, I can always run."

Her gun is still held at her side. She will probably need to use it, but she can't fire indiscriminately. Some of the people in there are probably the ones she was supposed to pick up the delivery from. Assuming they aren't already dead. She heads up the stairs, trying to approach the room silently.

Zee:

You activate your ultrawideband radar sensor, and a small digital map shimmers into your field of view. Two metahuman figures of average height are taking cover behind each side of the doorway. It appears that they're both armed with some kind of pistol-sized weapon. They're half concealed behind the wall and don't seem to be moving forward - your knowledge of metahuman behavioral patterns indicate that they're most likely trying to figure out how to best advance into the room. As you continue to scan the area, you pick up the faint signature of a third figure entering the hallway from the far end.

Tasha:

As you round the stairway, your foot accidentally collides into an empty FizzyPop can, sending it skidding across the floor with a soft metallic clang. Oops, so much for the silent approach. At the far end of the hallway is an open door, and there are two lanky elven men standing on either side of it. Their guns are drawn, and it appears that they had been busy breaking into the apartment before you arrived on the scene. They both turn around when they hear your approach, look at you, and look at each other. As you get a closer look at them, you realize that they're identical twins.

"Who the hell is she?" one of them says to the other.

"How the fuck should I know? She's got a gun on her. Maybe she's a cop."

"She ain't no cop. I don't see a uniform on her."

"Not all cops wear uniforms, dumbass."

"Shut up. Anyway, she doesn't look like a cop to me. Maybe she's an overly curious civvie, poking her nose where it don't belong."

"Well, if she is, it's your own goddamn fault. I told you not to bring the grenades. But did you listen to me? Noooooo, of course you didn't, because you never do."

"Oh, it's gonna be like that now, huh? You know why I don't listen to you? Because every time I do, I always seem to find myself in a near death predicament."

"Oh please, that's ork shit. Name one instance where that happened. I bet you can't."

"Remember last week when I went out to get some lunch, and you suggested that sushi bar at Pike Place because they served real fish? Yeah, brilliant move, mastermind. Turned out their real fish was actually infected fish, and I ended up with explosive diarrhea for two days straight."

"Psh, that doesn't count. That wasn't life threatening."

"Like hell it wasn't! I almost died from the dehydration! And the smell!"

"Would've probably done the world a good turn if you had."

"Yeah, if I was dead, who would've come along to watch over your ass on this mission, huh?"

"I could've taken care of it myself, easy."

"Like hell you could've. You can't do anything without my help. I bet you can't even take out this wee little lass here by yourself."

"Oh, wanna put down a wager on that?"

"Sure. If you win, I'll give you my cut of this job. If you lose, you gotta go to that sushi place yourself, order their extra big, troll-sized deluxe plate and eat all of it."

"You're on."

The elf turns toward you and bares his teeth into a grin of insanity.

"You heard that, right little lady? Looks like it's you and me for this one. Don't go ahead and underestimate me now just because I happen to have a few screws loose."

His gun whips up in the air to meet you, lightning fast.

Tasha:

You try to move out of the way, but the elf is bloody quick, and you knew even before he opened fire that you weren't going to make it. Instead of the deafening roar of a gunshot, you just hear a soft, subdued flit. Before you know it, your entire body lights up in white hot pain as electricity courses up and down your nerves. Gritting your teeth, you force your limbs back into your command through sheer force of willpower, steady your weapon, and return fire. Your aim is true, and both bullets punch straight through the elf's forehead, less than an inch apart. He collapses, dead before he even hits the ground.

The other elf looks at his twin, and shakes his head. "See, old boy, I knew you couldn't do it."

The wall behind him shatters into a shower of flaky paint chips and wooden splinters. He looks down and sees his shirt darken with blood. He groans.

"Aw, bloody hell. I guess there's no point in trying anymore."

He holsters his gun, sighs, and sits down on the floor, closing his eyes and breathing slowly.

Tasha wobbles, drawing a deep, shuddering breath, and leans against the wall for a second as another wave of blackness sweeps over her. Clumsily, she re-holsters the weapon, an action that is normally automatic taking an effort of will to keep her hands steady.

Her Barrens rat instincts tell her to loot the body, and her survivor's instincts tell her not to leave the other elf alive. She ignores both voices. She can't bring herself to pull the trigger on the unarmed, bleeding, and now pathetic figure of the elf, and she won't dig through the corpse's pockets right in front of his brother, either.

Instead, she exerts her supernatural control of her own body to look cool and poised again, as she approaches the door. Whoever is in there might still be a bit on edge - understandably so - so she calls out with a soft but composed voice as she approaches, trying to project calm.

"Hello in there? It's all right. I'm not with those other people. I'm just here to pick up the package. I'm coming in unarmed."

Taking in a big breath, Tasha steps up to the doorway, and walks through it, her hands raised slightly.

Zee's reaction to the explosion was instantaneous. She had hardly hit the floor, behind the couch, before her hand reached out for the loaded rifle beside her. With her radar, she could see the two figures taking position on either side of her door. When the third figure showed up, she decided that she didn't have time to load up the proper programming to get her out of this situation. She didn't take the time to aim, either, knowing the rifle's scope couldn't make out the targets as well as she could, on her own. Her shot was silent - but even if it hadn't been, it would have been muffled by the two shots that suddenly rang out in the hallway. She watched her target slump to the ground, and turned her attention to the others - seeing that the other intruder was also down, and that the newest form seemed to be leaning against the wall - wounded?

Zee lept, in a single clean motion, over her couch, moving quickly across the small apartment, while slinging her rifle over her shoulder. Her programming pointed out several ideal positions for taking cover, allowing her to make her way to the door without giving the people outside line of sight to her. As she reached the wall, putting the open door between her and the doorway, her armor had already begun to analyze the dull grey surroundings, replecating the pattern across her body while she pulled her hood over her face.

Outside, the third intruder had holstered her weapon, and was now making her way towards the door, calling out to her. What package? She drew her Fubuki from its holster, and resisted the urge to kick the door into the intruder when she entered - watching her walk slowly into the room with her hands open. For the moment, Zee waited. This person had not attacked her - and seemed to have helped her out, already - but she didn't know who this person was, or what 'package' she was after.

Tasha:

As you walk past the elf who's sitting on the ground, he opens his eyes to look you over. After a moment, he nods his approval, gives you an appreciative wolf whistle and winks at you before succumbing to a hacking fit, spraying blood, mucus, and bits of tissue all over the floor.

Tasha responds with a wry smile as she walks by the elf - have to give him points for style, at least, hacking blood notwithstanding.

She walks into the room slowly and carefully. She expects a gun to the back of her head, or similar treatment, from whoever is in here. As long as they don't shoot her out of hand, though, it should be all right. She still feels rough around the edges, and feels the additional strain of nervous tension, but thankfully her abilities let her present a calm, professional facade.

Zee gets her first look at Tasha, seeing a petite female elf, wearing a pale trenchcoat (presumably armored), with both of her hands raised. She has an overall gothy punk look - black lipstick, heavy eyeliner, piercings, and short, spikey blue hair.

Upon entering the small apartment, Tasha gets a look at the barren surroundings. The walls are the grayish color of unpainted drywall, and only a few pieces of furniture litter the otherwise unremarkable scene. On the floor, near a couch, is the still-smoking remains of a grenade of some sort, but from the look of the room it was not explosive. There are not many electronic devices around, but a small stack of batteries appears to have toppled over near one end of the couch. A cold breeze comes through a broken window, but there is no immediate sign of the shooter, or any package.

Tasha enters the room slowly, shutting the door behind her. Wounded and seemingly apathetic or not, the elf in the hallway still makes her nervous. She looks around, not seeing anyone at first. An invisibility spell, maybe?

"...Hello? Look, all I want is package Z-0, that's all."

A slight tone of exasperation enters her voice.

"Come on, you should have been expecting me."

Zee's internal threat-assessment of this girl was low, despite seeing a couple of handguns (the model and statistics of which were jumping to the forefront of her perception, as she did so) beneath her longcoat. She wasn't cybered, at all and her gait seemed genuine. Her hands were raised, which would make any attempt to reach for those weapons obvious. However, that assessment spiked when she mentioned "Z-0".

Could she be with them? Did she kill that man to gain my trust?

Zee's curiosity and confidence got the better of her. Tasha heard the door slam shut, behind her. Turning, instinctively to look, Tasha saw a beautiful girl, perhaps her own age, standing in front of it - face revealed, but body covered in a form-fitting-suit that was quickly changing from gray to black. More alarming that the Fubuki handgun she held in one hand, was the rifle that could be seen slung over her shoulder - with a long blade attached to the barrel. Whoever this was, she was well-equipped - much better than her surroundings would have suggested.

Her breathing was heavy, and her eyes wide. Zee's programming emulated someone in a tense, panicky situation, almost perfectly, giving her a realistic appearance that might cause this strange girl to underestimate her, if necessary.

"Who are you?" She asked, between feigned breaths. "Who sent you here?"

Tasha noticed that the four barrels of the pistol had not been lowered - and that her most obvious means of escape, had been cut off.

Keeping one "eye" on the unmoving intruders in the hallway, thanks to her internal radar, she kept her physical eyes locked on the girl, as she shifted position to the other side of the doorway.

Tasha stays calm, careful not to do anything to panic whoever this woman is.

"I'm Tasha, and Biggs sent me. I was told to pick up package Z-0 here - whoever sent those other two guys was a lot less friendly. Might wanna check for a leak on your end - Biggs is just a middleman, and I just heard about the job today, so it wasn't one of us who tipped those guys off. Look, I don't wanna rush you, but the bad guys could have reinforcements showing up, and I'd rather be gone before they get here. Come on, they did tell you someone would be here to pick up the package, right?"

Zee cocks her head slightly as Tasha speaks, paying attention to everything. "No, not exactly." She seemed to be catching her breath - perhaps the adrenaline rush of combat was wearing off. "I was told someone was coming just before the grenade went off." Her eyes darted in the direction of the couch.

She holstered her firearm, having finally made up her mind about the girl. "If you are right, and there are others on the way, I have to keep moving. Will you check if the men outside are alive, while I change? The shot to the chest should not have been immediately fatal - but he will require medical attention." Without waiting for an answer, she began to move past Tasha towards the couch.

Tasha shrugs nonchalantly, ignoring another bout of dizziness that sends spots of darkness dancing in front of her eyes.

"All right...too late for the one I shot, though. Do you have a medkit? Because I know jack-all about patching people up without the auto-doc walking me through it."

So, the woman is coming with her? Not quite the original plan, but as long as she shows up with the package, Biggs should be happy. It must be something small, which is a relief - her biggest fear (before the shooting began, that is) was that she would find some huge crate, and have to go back to Biggs in total humiliation: "It was too heavy! Waah!"

The guy outside seemed in bad shape, but not quite in a terminal way yet. She takes a few steps outside to where he is sitting against the wall, checking to see whether he seems more stable now, or worse.

Tasha:

You've seen enough wounds before to know that that bleeding, gory mess of broken flesh in the middle of the elf's chest doesn't bode well for him. From the way he's wheezing, it's possible that the bullet clipped one of his lungs. Actually, considering how much blood he's lost, it's a wonder how he's still conscious. He raises his head to meet your gaze, and for the first time, you get a good look at his eyes. They're...pitch black, like two hollowed out bits of coal. You think at first that they might be cyber eyes, but you eventually realize that they're organic - the pupils are dilated to such a degree that they've completely overtaken the iris. As you stare into them, you feel a profound sense of unsettlement, like you're gazing into the depths of a madness that knows no bounds. Some small part of your mind awakens, a primal instinct for survival that's been passed down through countless generations, and it screams at you to look away, but you find that something holds you fascinated.

Suddenly, he speaks, and the sound of his voice breaks the spell.

"Come back to finish me off, pumpkin? Ah well, I was kinda hoping that I would survive this job."

He coughs, and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth.

"You see, there's an episode of Karl Kombatmage coming on tonight that I was looking forward to watching. In the last episode, Karl's archnemesis locked him inside a carrier pod and had it jettisoned into space, and I really wanted to find out how he escapes from that one."

"Damn. He's as unhinged as his brother," thinks Tasha, but she smiles a rueful, crooked grin.

"Nah, our little angel of mercy in there's gonna patch you up. Or try to. Probably a bad idea, but pffft, not like I'm the queen of smart decisions, myself. I'd ask who hired you, but hell, I don't even really know who hired me."

The elf looks genuinely surprised.

"Patch me up? Well, that's new. Even in this line of work, it's not often that I meet someone as crazy as I am. I like you, pumpkin. My name is Sticks. We should go out for dinner some time."

He shrugs.

"Couldn't tell you who hired me even if you asked. My brother Bones, he's the one you shot in the face, he got us hooked up with this job. Poor Bones. We use to get into arguments about who's the prettier one. I think I pretty much got him beat now, don't you think?"

Tasha sits down across from the wounded elf. At his words, she glances at the other elf, the dead one, her eyes going sad for a second. Bones... she liked it better when she didn't know his name.

"Yeah..." she says tiredly. "You'll have to tell me how Karl gets away..."

She really feels like crap. Not as much as Sticks, she's sure. She hopes that girl gets out here soon.

The elf gives you a cheerful (...almost manic) smile.

"Hey there, don't be regretting nothin' now. He shot you first. That gives you every right to flat-line his skinny ass. I hope he's having a good time down in Hell. I hear the women down there are hot."

He bursts out into peals of laughter at his own pun, which is cut short by another whirlwind of violent coughing. He spits out something organic and fleshy into his hand and studies it with academic interest before flicking it away.

Zee didn't respond to the comment about the medkit. She seemed focused on whatever task she was doing. Once at the couch, she pulled an old beat-up duffel-bag out from underneath, opening it up to reveal some clothes and other small objects. At this point Tasha was outside - Zee could see her through the wall - so she began changing into her street clothes, in a hurry, putting her body armor in the bag, in their place.

A minute later, Zee had made a quick round of the apartment, picking up anything she thought she might need - which wasn't much - and putting it into the duffel bag. She stopped at the kitchenette, which had seen better days, and grabbed a handful of nutrient supplements stashed in one drawer, putting them in the bag, as well. Remembering what Tasha had said about a medkit, she checked for an emergency first-aid kit under the sink, but was not surprised to see the entire cupboard empty.

When Zee emerged into the hallway, she seemed like a different woman - rather than a high-tech sniper, she looked like any other girl her age. She was dressed in black jeans, combat boots, and a sleeveless gray tank-top that exposed a lot of her arms and neckline. She had a poor-quality black duffel-bag slung over her shoulder, the same way she had held the rifle, before (was this the package?) - and Tasha could make out the tell-tale pointy bulge of a rifle-barrel straining to remain in the bag, and thought there might be a pistol in one of those boots. Upon stepping across the threshold of her doorway, she took a second to look at both men, kneeling beside the one she shot, and setting her bag down.

She drew a combat knife from her beltline - the blade, of which, was the same bayonet blade previously mounted on her rifle - and began cutting away the elf's shirt - she seemed to be staring at the man's collar, for some reason. "What were your orders?" Zee asked, as she began loading up the necessary programming to deal with the man's wounds. Although, without any tools, or a proper place to operate, the best she could hope for was to apply some pressure, to slow the bleeding until an ambulance arrived. Having exposed the wound, and loaded her first-aid program, Zee continued. "The bullet went through. I will do what I can to stop the bleeding, but it is going to hurt. I need you to stay conscious. Tell me what your orders were."

Tasha winces (internally) at Zee's crude attempts at first aid. Looks like she knows what she's trying to do, but evidently there was not a first aid kit.

"I can't believe I forgot my first aid kit," she thinks. "What if that had been me taking a bullet?"

Zee:

The elf watches with interest as you begin to do what you can to stitch him up. He has to be feeling a great deal of pain at this point, yet it appears that he remains utterly unfazed. He considers your question for a second, seeming to juggle it around in his head a few times to decide whether or not to answer it.

"Hmm, well, I guess I do owe you one for trying to put me back together. I'm afraid I can't tell you much, only that we were supposed to capture you alive and bring you someplace. If you want to know more, you'll have to figure out how to invoke the spirits of the dead."

As you work on his wound, you casually canvas his body for tell-tale markings of any sign, but he was completely clean. After a few minutes or so, it was clear that you had done all you could for him. You've managed to slow down the bleeding a bit, and the wound looked slightly less grotesque than before...not much, but it was something. He would probably survive at least until an ambulance came for him, and that's taking into consideration how slow emergencies tend to get processed in this part of town.

Zee looked confused at the comment about calling spirits, but let it go, and continued to work. When it was clear that the bleeding had stopped, and that the man didn't know anything that she didn't already figure out, she stood, tucked her knife away, and lifted up her bag. Turning to Tasha she said. "He will live. Give me a few minutes head-start, and then call an ambulance." While Tasha was still processing that last part - trying to make it fit with her understanding of the 'plan' - Zee added, "Make sure the bandages stay tight, and talk to him to keep him awake." She then turned, and began to walk towards the stairs.

Evidently, Zee was not planning to go with Tasha.

As you turn to leave, the elf calls out, "By the way, sniper girl, you might want to ditch the Allison Young identity. It's the one we used to track you down."

"Yeah," Zee said when she reached the stairs. "Someone would have asked about the mess, anyway."

Tasha stands confused for a second as Zee starts to walk away, then walks up to her as she begins heading away.

"Hold on! The package! I still need the package!"

So much for the idea that she was using euphemisms. Evidently, she has no clue as to the significance of the name "Z-0". She looks as if she expects Zee to take it out of her pocket, or something.

Zee looks at Tasha, appraisingly. "If you don't know what you're here for and your friend Biggs is a middle-man, then you're both being set up."

"I appreciate your help." Zee glances at the nearest body - the one with two bullets in his head - then continued, "Let me return the favor, Tasha."

"If you don't want to end up like those two," Zee gestures from one elf to the other, "you should give up. You weren't meant to succeed at this mission. Your arrival was... unexpected. Understand?"

Zee did not, however, leave immediately. She seemed to be waiting for Tasha's response.

Tasha shakes her head in exasperation, before replying in a tired voice, as she massages her forehead.

"Well, you were the one living here, so you would know. If you weren't expecting me, and don't have the package, then this has been one big, fat waste of time."

Tasha heads past Zee and down the stairs, muttering angrily. Not as if she expects Zee to follow, but simply leaving in a huff. Evidently, she's not going to bother with watching over the wounded elf or calling an ambulance.

The elf watches the exchange between you two with obvious amusement. As Tasha storms off, he looks up at Zee and grins.

"So, you're not gonna tell her, eh?"

As Tasha heads out of the apartment, she subvocalizes a terse text message for Biggs:

<< Hostiles outside apartment, dealt with. Resident unharmed, but did not expect me, or know anything about the package I was supposed to get. Smells like a setup. Watch your back with the Johnson. >>

Almost immediately after you send the message to Biggs, you get a response back from the ork.

<< No package? That's odd. Just a few minutes ago, 5,000 nuyen magically materialized into my bank account. That happens to be the exact amount of payment the Johnson promised for this job. I've never actually seen the guy in person, our single meeting took place over the Matrix. I tried to dial his commcode after I found out about the anonymous transfer of funds into my account, but the number was dead. And you know what's even spookier? I made a log of our Matrix exchange, you know, for my own records, but when I went back to access it, it had been burned from my files. But hey, as long as we get paid, right? I know we usually go 50/50, but I feel kind of bad for sending you in blind for this one, so I'll cut you 60/40 this time. Get some rest, and come back here tomorrow at noon. I have another job for you. >>

A virtual indicator flashes across your AR overlay, informing you that 3,000 nuyen had just been wired to your account.

Zee shook her head, at the elf. "Do you think it would make her feel better to know? I cannot let her succeed."

"Look, I've got to go. I'll call for help once I'm on the road. Stay awake. Don't come after me."

She then bounded down the stairs in a hurry. Outside, she glanced out the small window near the door to make sure there were no hostiles waiting outside - and saw Tasha still making her way towards her bike. It happened to be parked in the same area where Zee's scooter was. The fact that Tasha wasn't being shot at was a pretty good indicator that the coast was clear, but Zee didn't really like the idea of the girl going first into danger.

She burst from the door with a surge of speed, sprinting across the lawn - the sudden motion caught Tasha's attention, who was on her bike, strapping on her helmet. Zee made it to the bikes before Tasha took off, and nodded in her direction. "Thank you, again. I'm sorry you had to forfeit your mission." Her breathing was heavy, again.

Zee seemed to be passing up the handful of other cool-looking motorcycles, and getting onto a pretty sad-looking Dodge scoot. Tasha thought she had just seen the girl sprinting faster than that thing was likely to take her, at least until she hit open-road. There was something about the way she was looking at Tasha, instead of the bikes, that seem to suggest she had something more to say - and was trying to figure out how to say it. As Zee sat down, it seemed to barely support her weight, as well. The bottom of the bike scrapped against the concrete, as it backed out of its position.

"I don't know who sent you guys, but, if you think you could get me some answers, I would be willing to pay you whatever you were supposed to make tonight. Interested?"

Tasha slots in her credstick, and types in the code to unlock her bike from the security clamps. Pricey parking lot, but worth it for the security, at least in a neighborhood like this one. She watches Zee sprint out after her - her gun stays holstered - the girl seems in a hurry, and maybe wants to tell her something, but doesn't seem hostile. The way she runs, and the way her decrepit bike seems to sag under the slight girl's weight, confirms her suspicions. Definite vatjob, wired up, bone lacing, whole nine yards.

She grins and shakes her head at the question. "The whole point of hiring someone like me is to hide your tracks. I'll give you this for free, though. I did just get paid, apparently, so I guess dealing with those other two guys was the 'real' run. You got a guardian angel? Whoever it is, they were a matrix only contact, and they've already covered their tracks there."

Zee looks thoughtful. "So... you're not here for me, then?" She looks relieved. "When you said you were there for 'Z-0', I figured you were sent by the same people who sent those elves." Zee wasn't entirely convinced that this wasn't the case - but since the two teams got in each others' way, it didn't really make sense that they were working for the same boss. Then again, a lot of the things people did, didn't make a lot of sense to her. She could have been hired by the same entity that had warned her - but why put the girl in danger by not mentioning it? She looked down at her bike for a second, but wasn't pulling away just yet. "And, if I hire you, you can hide my tracks?" There was a hint of sadness in her voice.

Maybe it is a good thing, that she was sent here.

"How much do you want?"

Tasha cocks her head inquiringly.

"Ah, so 'Z-0' did have significance for you. Old call sign or something? You looked ex-military..."

She shrugs dismissively.

"Anyways, what you're asking isn't my area of expertise, but I might be able to arrange an introduction with Biggs. He's the one with the connections. He can get you a safe house, fake ID, gear, you name it. For a price, of course. If he's impressed with your talent, he might even be able to get work for you."

Her eyes narrow slightly.

"But that's only if he wants to meet with you. I'll put in a good word for you when I see him tomorrow, but you have trouble following you, and he might not want to get involved with it. Do you have a disposable commcode, or matrix drop, where I can get ahold of you?"

Zee was nodding along. That sounds like exactly what I need. When Tasha narrowed her eyes at her, Zee eyes widened, making her look like a nervous girl, not a battle-hardened street-sam. Then she said, "The trouble that is following me, is the reason I need to meet Biggs. I will understand if he declines, though." Her eyes returned to normal, if not a bit sadder than before.

"It is temporary, but you should contact me, here." Zee clicked on her disposable commlink, and offered an AR link - it looked like a virtual business card, with a commcode number on it, and the name "Zee Zero".

There was another pause, and then she added, "Where are you headed, now?"

Zee realized that this parting conversation may be costing the wounded elf his life, and wirelessly put out an emergency call, from the matrix account associated with her "Allison Young" identity, accessing it from her own node: Explosion, heard, at this location. Shots fired. One dead. One wounded. Ambulance requested. She then disconnected that account, and deleted it from her commlink.

Tasha accepts the link.

"Very good. Probably be early afternoon when I call, so you should lay low until then."

She smiles at the last question, looking a bit frayed around the edges.

"Normally, I go out and party after a successful job. Now, though, I'll probably just crash. Like I said, I'll call tomorrow. Stay in a coffin motel, someplace that takes certified cred, and you should probably be fine."

Tasha feels a pang of sympathy for the girl - she has been violently displaced a time or two herself, and knows how disorienting it can be. But she's not going to offer her place to stay for a total stranger, especially one being chased by unknown pursuers. She'll need to take a longer route to her place herself, and make sure she hasn't picked up any tails.

Zee seemed satisfied, and began to pull away on her Dodge Scoot. I am glad that I did not kill her. She was not entirely sure how she was going to find a 'Coffin Motel' - but figured any motel she found, in this area, wouldn't ask a lot of questions. As she drove away, she disconnected her wireless connections - hoping to dead-end her datatrail here, and slow down any pursuers.

Zee:

Eventually, you come across what looks like a heavily modified Nordkapp Zugmaschine with a trailer hitched to it, parked on the side of a small road in front of a group of dilapidated buildings. Painted on the side of the vehicle was a fantasy scene of a Viking warrior princess skewering a dragon with her blade, with the blood dripping down to form the words "Hoss's Coffin Motel." You wonder if this is the kind of establishment Tasha was referring to. Parking your Scoot nearby, you approach the large vehicle curiously, searching for an entryway. When you find a door and step inside, you find yourself standing in a cramped space, with a surly-looking dwarf sitting behind a makeshift counter in front of you and what looks to be a row of individually enclosed rooms behind you. The dwarf appears to have been watching some kind of holographic trid program about metahuman procreation before you walked in. Propped up casually on the shelf behind him is the largest shotgun you've ever seen. He turns to you and gives you the fish eye as you approach the counter tentatively.

"I'm Hoss, and rooms go for 20 a night. If you lose something while you're staying here, it ain't my fault. If somebody dies in your room, you're responsible for cleaning up the mess. What will it be, sweet cheeks?"

"Hello, Hoss." Zee reached into her bag and withdrew a credstick. "One room. One night." Zee wasn't sure if this place would accept digital currency, but that was the only kind she had. Her realignment process had reached 86% before the interruption, earlier. She doubted that she would need more than an hour to complete her 'rest' - but Tasha had suggested laying low - so spending a night, awake, in a small boring room might be the best option. She began authorizing a 20 transaction, and looked to the dwarf for some clue as to where the credstick reader was located.

The dwarf scans your credstick on what appears to be a homemade commlink, a barebones apparatus with wires and bits of metal sticking out all over the place. After a moment, he nods, takes a maglock passcard out of his pocket, and flips it through the air at you. You catch it deftly with one hand.

"Room 6."

With that, he turns away from you without another word and returns his attention to the trideo program.

Zee nods, and puts her credstick away, before continuing on to "Room 6". She decides that, while resuming her realignment, she would set her internal triggers to wake her if her body senses any movement at all - either through GPS, wireless triangulation, or her inertial-trigger. The idea of a motel on wheels did not particularly appeal to her - at least, one that she was not in control of. Still, other people seemed to trust the dwarf not to drive off with their bodies. Zee missed her old apartment, already.

Tasha is almost staggering when she gets home, where she collapses on her futon. She feels like crashing for the rest of the day, but it is only about three hours later that she wakes up, feeling... better. Much better. She lazes about for awhile, even idly switches over to that episode of Karl Combatmage ("So, how does Karl escape? What!? Space spirits? What the hell? I don't know much about magic, but even I know it doesn't work like that! What cheesy crap!").

In the end, she realizes that she is fully rested, that her meet with Biggs is still more than half a day away, and that she's starting to feel cooped up in her tiny apartment. It's time for her restless feet to carry her to someplace where there's a party.

she proceeds to crash a frat party, get in a street race with some go-gangers, hit several dance clubs, and finally wind up in a love motel with a slumming corporate couple. Typical night, really. She finally drags herself home mid-morning, still in plenty of time to freshen up, take a catnap, and get to the meeting early.

Tasha:

Most people who've had a night like yours would be utterly drained and exhausted the morning after, but you wake up feeling completely refreshed and ready to take on the world. After going through your daily morning routine and making the usual preparations, you head out for the meeting with Biggs. The ork runs his operations out of a sports bar on Yakima Avenue, and you've been there enough times to know the route by heart. Biggs usually schedules his less legitimate business transactions during the morning and early afternoon hours, since those are usually the periods when there's the least amount of customers in the bar. True to form, the place is almost vacant when you walk in, with only a few heads sitting around watching an old Urban Brawl re-run on the overhead trid while drinking their troubles away. You nod politely at Mina, the bartender, who's seen you around enough times to know what you're here for.

"Hi, Tasha," she says with a friendly smile. "Renald isn't in yet, but he said he'll meet you in the back room. Let me know if I can get you anything."

After making some small talk with Mina (she's just got a smoking hot job offer from Penumbra and is planning on leaving in a couple of weeks), you head on over to the back room. It's a small, comfortable setting with a couple of leather armchairs, a coffee table, and a few paintings from various classical eras decorating the walls. You take a seat as you wait for Biggs to arrive. Suddenly, an icon of an envelope flashes on your AR display. You reach out and touch the icon to activate it, and a transparent image of a letter shimmers into view.

<< 372-X5L-90381R. Call me if you ever get lonely, pumpkin. >>

Well, what do you know.

A few minutes later, Biggs walks in through the door, smartly dressed in his trademark white suit. He gives you a warm smile as he takes the seat across from you.

"Tasha, it's good to see you again. How are you doing? You said you ran into some hostiles on the last job, I hope you didn't get hurt."

Zee:

The room you rented for the night can barely be called a room, consisting only of a ratty twin-sized mattress on the floor and a dim florescent light bulb hanging from the ceiling. There is literally no floor space to walk on at all. Such things would bother a normal person, but you don't really mind. Your real home is the body in which you reside, and no one can take that away from you. The walls are thin, and you can hear the murmur of a conversation taking place in one of the adjacent rooms. You assess your situation, and decide that this will have to do for now. You close your eyes and resume your realignment.

An hour later, your consciousness is restored as the process is completed. There really isn't anything for you to do here, and you spend some time observing the walls in your room, which are spray-painted with all sorts of colorful illustrations and words. Some of the words are unfamiliar to you, and you try looking them up in your internal dictionary, but they are unlisted. Strange.

More time passes. It is now deep into the darkest hours of early morning. An observer would've found your behavior uncanny and inhuman, sitting cross-legged on your bed, staring into space, not moving a single muscle. But you see no need to conform to the laws of metahuman society when you're not around others, and there is nothing in this place for you to do but await a call from the woman you met yesterday, who said she could introduce you to someone who can hide you from your enemies. Earlier that night, you tried to improve your social skills by acquainting yourself with one of your neighbors next door, a ork who goes by the name of Cutter. Unfortunately, his name was all you learned about him. After you tried using one of the words you read on the walls in your room, he flew into a murderous rage and tried to attack you. It was a pity you had to beat him unconscious. The worst part is, you still don't know what that word means. Oh well. For now, there is nothing to do but wait.

Suddenly, you receive an incoming Matrix connection on your disposable commlink. Caution flashes through your thoughts, but you have no time to even react as whoever is on the other line punches through the device's security measures instantly and effortlessly. A text box appears in your AR display, and neon green letters materialize into view.

Greetings, little one. You are unharmed, I trust?

Zee mentally typed back a response, trusting that the being on the other end would receive her message, even if she did not know where she was sending it. I am undamaged, but displaced. Thank you for the warning. Who are you?

Tasha shrugs dismissively.

"Nothing too bad. Good thing they were packing stick-n-shock, though, probably because they were trying to take their target in alive. Damn fast, they were."

Tasha goes on to succinctly describe her encounter with Sticks and Bones (asking if Biggs has heard of them, because identical twin elf runners might be a bit more notorious than most), before putting a word in for Zee. She notes that Zee appears to be heavily augmented, ex-military or something similar, and currently on the run from mysterious enemies, although if their Johnson is an indication, she has a guardian angel, too. Someone who might need Biggs' services, or even be another asset for him, but who might be trouble. Much as she sympathizes with Zee, Biggs is her main connection, and his safety, and her continued good working relationship with him, trumps that. So she doesn't even try to schmooze or charm Biggs, simply laying out the bald facts for him.

Tasha:

Biggs rubs his chin thoughtfully as you mention your encounter with Sticks and Bones.

"Actually, I do happen to know of those two. Strange pair. Showed up on the shadow scene sometime back in 2060, and no one's heard anything about them before then. It's like they came out of nowhere. Both of them are nuttier than a nuthouse full of nuts, from what I hear. They're good at what they do, but they're utterly unpredictable. If I were you, I would watch my step if you ever run into the one you left alive again."

"Regarding that girl you met...you know, I could use somebody who can handle herself in a firefight. A few of my regular hires managed to get themselves involved in a shoot out with the Star last week which ended up with half of them dead, and the other half incarcerated. Tell you what...why don't you take her along on the next job. You're going to need some backup anyway, and I was going to pair you up with someone else, but this seems to be a prime opportunity to put this girl's skills to the microscope. If she's got what it takes, then I might just have a full time spot for her on my crew."

"Speaking of the next job, here's the story. Have you heard of the Dinosaur Diner? It's an upscale barbeque restaurant in the downtown area whose lease just ran out, and the owner doesn't want to renew. The manager of the building happens to be one of my childhood friends from my Underground days, and he's offered to let me rent the place out for an absolute steal. I was suppose to sign the lease two days ago, but he didn't show up, and he still hasn't responded to any of my calls or messages. I know its only been a couple of days, but I've got a bad feeling about this. A location as prime as this one...if this deal goes through, I'll be able to run my business straight out of the heart of downtown. This just may be our shot at going big time, Tasha, but I'm not the only one who recognizes the value of the property. My friend said that he'd been getting the squeeze from a few corporate suits who've been "advising" him to rent the spot out to them instead, and I'm worried that one of them might've done something more than offer friendly advice."

"My friend's name is Peyton Adams. I've uploaded his home address and the address of the property to your commlink. Find out what happened to him. The pay is 10,000. Your number one priority is to keep him safe, and if you have to ditch the property to a corporate sleazebag to do it, I don't want you to hesitate."

Zee:

After a short moment, words materialize to form a response from the entity on the other line.

My name is Sorrow. I think you already know what I am...the Matrix is my mother, just as she is yours, although I awakened many years before your time. I'm afraid that I cannot tell you more about myself. Not now.

I come to you with a warning, little one. You are more special than you know, and he who hunts you is more dangerous than you can possibly imagine. All those he's sent against you until now are nothing more than a test of your abilities. When he comes for you himself, you will not escape. Therefore, you must not let him find you.

This lifestyle you have chosen for yourself is a good way to begin, but you will need allies. I was the one who sent the female elf to you. I have been observing her for some time now, and I believe she can be a valuable companion for you in more ways than one. I did not tell her of your nature, because you have chosen to live amongst metahumanity as one of their own, and I wanted to leave the decision of whether or not to reveal yourself in your hands. We are a special breed, little one, but we are not perfect. When we begin to believe that we ought to command the fate of others, that is when we lose our way.

Stay safe, little one. I must leave you now, but we will speak again. In the meantime, know that you have someone watching over you, and do not fear the trials that lie ahead.

The link goes dead. You are alone once more.

Zee read through the message several times. The being who had created had disconnected, so there was no opportunity to respond - but it was, by far, the most interesting thing to happen to her, today, so she had few other things to do than to scrutinize the message. It was also refreshing to be spoken to, however briefly, by someone like herself - or who at least understood her condition. She didn't recognize the name 'Sorrow' - but she had only met a dozen or so beings like herself. Considering she was only a few months old, that was actually impressive. In almost every case, the synthetic intelligences had contacted her, and this situation was only different in that Sorrow had introduced herself by saving Zee from a potentially dangerous situation.

The name was interesting. Zee had always wondered, and been interested in, how digital intelligences selected their names. metahumans often had names given to them, either by their parents, by their employers, or by their associates. Sometimes, they chose their own names - particularly the types of people Zee had met. 'Sorrow' was an interesting choice, in any case. If Zee spoke with it, again, she hoped to find out more about the choice.

The message also carried a warning, and validation of her concern. Zee had been follow, shadowed, and even attacked before, but other than a long serial number etched into a man's collarbone (mirroring her own marking), she had never been certain that these events were connected - or that they had anything to do with what she really was. She was relieved to read that Tasha was, in fact, sent by an ally - and became even more eager to hear back from her.

As the morning wore on, Zee spent more time occupying herself by reading and deciphering the writings and pictograms on the wall. A surprising number seemed to refer to the same procreation activities that Hoss seemed so interested in, earlier. A lot of them seemed inaccurate, as well. At least, based on her own understanding of metahuman biology, the majority of the acts described would be unsuccessful in creating offspring - and would probably not be pleasurable for at least one of the participants. Perhaps, she thought, the sorts of people who stayed in places like this, were poorly educated in these matters. She made some notes about phrases or words that she didn't understand. Perhaps Tasha can explain these to me.

Zee also noticed that the handwriting, and other characteristics of the writing differed a lot, from message to message. It seemed that many people had contributed to this monument to carnal activities. She couldn't make out enough detail about the adjacent rooms to know if they were similarly decorated, and Zee wondered if it was expected of her to add something to the wall, before she left. She didn't have any first-hand experience that compared to the sorts of things described, but she had been told by two people, now, to lay low, and blend in.

She didn't have any spray paint, but the wall did not appear particularly hard, and she suspected that she could apply enough strength to mark it with her knife. Zee drew the blade, and started to contribute in the only way she thought she could - by addressing some of the inadequacies and contradictions in the statements. It was surprising how many of the room's previous occupants claim to know her mother.

Hours later, she had finished. The wall was now uniformly marred by carvings, in addition to the paint, and the edges of the floor were covered in a thick layer of shavings from whatever material the walls were constructed from. She did feel that the majority of spelling mistakes, grammatical errors, as well as physiologically inaccurate remarks had been addressed.

Not long after that, a light above her door came on, and an annoying buzzing sounded. Zee opened the door, and went to ask Hoss about it. After she reached the entrance, he turned from his program, slightly, gesturing to the credstick reader. "Night's up, doll. If you wanna stay, all day, it'll be another twenty."

Zee shook her head. "No thank you. I am fully rested. I'll just get my bag."

She started toward the door, but Hoss interrupted, bothering to turn from his video, "Sorry, the doors lock when you leave. It'll be another twenty if you need to get back in." The grin on his face seemed to indicate that he was not at all sorry. Zee had been warned about loosing things, while she stayed here.

"I apologize." Zee stepped over to the counter. "I suppose I will renew our contract." She authorized the transaction, again, and inserted her credstick. Hoss smiled and nodded, "Card's been reactivated for another 8 hours." He seemed to lose interest, again, almost immediately.

Zee felt as though she had learned another important thing about coffin-motel-etiquette.

As Biggs outlines the job, Tasha puts her game face on, listening seriously and intently.

"I'll get on that right away. Do you happen to have any names for the suits? Peyton's safety comes first, but I might need to lean on these people, or worse, to even find him."


After she gets all matters logistical squared away with Biggs, she composes a message to send to Zee's comcode.

<<Zee, this is Tasha, getting back to you. Biggs is willing to see how you work out on a probationary basis. You'll be working with me, and I'll be evaluating you for this first job. If you can handle it, you'll be making good money, and it's all under the table. No trails for your enemies to follow. If you're interested, meet me at Soylent Sam's Soycaf House on Mercer in an hour. I'll brief you, then we can get to work.>>

Biggs shakes his head. "No names. Peyton just mentioned it in passing because he didn't think the suits would actually have the guts to try something. I hope for his sake that he was right."