<<Wednesday Evening - 19:30 - May 31, 2079 - SIS, Redmond>>

It's over. The special election run-off between Nikola Taula and Corinne Potter is complete. Voting happens on Tuesday and by the next day the vote is certified. Because it's a special election, the victor - Corinne Potter - is sworn in immediately. That was today.

People have been studying Potter’s past to get some idea of how she’s going to govern, but she’s never held public office before. She’s worked on several campaigns (supposedly) and written several position papers, but who knows how much her work reflected her ideas, and how much they were influenced by the politicians she served? Since her past record doesn’t give much to go on, the main source for discerning her thinking is her campaign speeches. What does one learn from those? Information barely more useful than the fact that she likes puppies and ice cream.

In the end, it is the strength of Corinne's support in Redmond and Puyallup that tip the scales in her favor. The voters from the Barrens (which is to stay the SINners) felt a real connection when Corinne came to visit, and felt estranged by the shiny, corporate Nikola Taul. Corrine doesn't propose any major changes that would make the corps unnecessarily uncomfortable. In fact, one of her primary goals is to ensure all Seattle hosts stay current with updated Matrix standards, and she wants to upgrade all public grids. It seems calculated: a modest but clear benefit that won't alienate anyone.

It is in this context that we find two Knight-Errant officers on the doorstep of the Redmond HQ of SIS.

BANG BANG BANG!

There are two officers at the door. Both are human; one is older and fatter, the other is younger and skinny. You recognize them as the cops that came to retrieve you both in late November and in mid-May to speak with the Mayor.

In the street there are two K-E patrol cars. Two orks in K-E uniforms lean against the cars, munching on airy donuts and sipping soykaf in non-biodegradable cups.

"Hoi," says younger, skinny cop. "You know the drill. Let's roll."

Bobby was once more on reception duty, opening the door to the incessant banging.
"You know we have a bell? Give my colleagues a moment to get their shoes on and we are ready to roll."

Bobby's tone was weary - it hadn't been that long that he had replaced this door after the bomb explosion. Now the new door had just accumulated enough scratches and dings to no longer qualify as new.
maybe a metaphor for life in general, all things considered.

<<Get down, KE is here, looks like another audience with the mayor and the draco thing.>> he sent to the team, while keeping a stoic face looking at the KE lackeys.

During the past few weeks, Rachel completed her next initiation and also used some time to forge a bond with two new spirits, as well as refilling and broadening her stash of preparations. She learned some new spells, some of which were already employed as alchemical preparations that might prove useful at some point. Practicing a bit more with liquids as lynchpins has allowed her to brew small potions. The preparations are stored in the Bellevue office for now. Some alchemical tools were acquired, but to fully utilize them, Rachel will also need some laboratory space. Hopefully, there is a spare room in their Bellevue place for that. It does not have to be that big. It would allow them to refine their own reagents. While they still have a pretty large stash of those from their trip south of the border, having some tailor-made for their intended purpose can be quite impactful for enchanting. She makes a note on her shopping list.

What she still did not get around to doing, with all that time spent on honing her magical abilities, is updating her office wardrobe. So, it's still the Zoé Executive Suite suit. It looks sharp and the classic cut never gets old. Can't really go wrong with that one. Still, some more variety would be nice. If she had enough decent material, she could simply make her own. But even that requires a bit of planning ahead.

As Bobby's message comes in, Rachel takes a minute to check out her reflection in the mirror. She also casts a spell to improve her natural charm (Increase Charisma F6; buying the hits for Spellcasting and Drain Resistance; sustained with Focused Concentration). After all, they want to show their best side when they meet with the Mayor again (and the creepy dragon guy). Maybe it is time to collect their bonus? Corinne Potter did win the election, after all. Or maybe the Mayor is in need of their services again. Either way, time to head out. A last glance into the mirror, and she makes her way towards the front door.

The witch is masking her aura to hide her magic to a degree (Masking to decrease Magic Rating to 6; hiding the two foci (Power Focus is active), and the sustained spell.).

"Ah, our friends from Knight-Errant. The neighborhood feels safer, already."

AM has spent the past few weeks immersed in training — boxing mainly, but more broadly in the art of unarmed combat: grappling, feinting, counterattacks. She’s come a long way from the girl who once struggled to even budge the punching bag. Now she’s a slick, precise machine, her blows carrying weight and intent. Her magic, subtly woven into her form, amplifies her capabilities beyond the average gym-goer. The enhancements make her movements faster, her reflexes sharper, her stamina superhuman.

She kept studying sorcery picking up two new spells. Vehicle Mask — if there is ever a moment when changing the appearance of a getaway ride in a blink of an eye is important, and Magic Fingers, mostly because, well... it’s a fun spell to have. Her magical lodge in the Redmond office is filled with scribbles and notes she took while studying the magic formula, she browsed several before deciding on the right flavor of the spell. Gone are the days when she took a spell formula and studied it like an holy text. If any, she is not very far from a point where she would be able to come up with spells on the fly but she is not quite there yet.


At the current day, AM takes a quiet time off her studies and shows an uncanny interest in politics eagerly waiting for the polls to conclude. She watches the polls from the election as if she is one of the voters, and when Corine Potter wins AM cries with pure joy "YES she did it!!! Pay up Mayor Sonja!" with an excitement that is usually preserved to a soccer fan when their team scores a goal. She took some adjusting to find her new role in the team when Jawsie departed, and when she proves to herself that she can negotiate make educated gambits and actually win! It feels great, nothing quite compares to getting a huge pile of money she can attribute to skillful negotiations.


AM is about to suggest a team night tout to celebrate Potter victory when the Spanish inquisition (well Knight Errant) knocks on their door in Redmond. Thanks the Wakan Tanaka that they find us here rather than in Bellevue. She says feeling a bit humiliated despite the very pleasant exchange bonus she expects to get. That powerplay is a bit humiliating, in her imagination she dares to fanaticize about actually belonging in Bellevue but then come the coppers and make her ride the inside of a cop car. Taking the air out of her sail, and remaining her that no matter how rich she might become, she is still a criminal to be 'publically arrested' and discreetly brought to Mayor Sonja's office like a dirty secret rather than to enter through the front door.

"I smell like sweaty teenage boys and desperation. It'll just be a few moments before I am presentable" she says loudly so that the coppers hear her and she slips away to the shower. Opening the water and prepping herself mentally for meeting the politician again. Once out she dresses very swiftly, more within the time frame that a man is supposed to get dressed. If they needed to negotiate, she needed something more than oversized training shirt and cargo pants. As a tribute to Potter, she does not suit up, not this time. If the casual look is good for Corrine potter, it is probably good for AM as well. Even if suits do have power over people which AM acknowledges.

She wears an off-white buttoned down shirt, and a grey jacket along with form fitting black pants and low heel boots. Everything covered, but she allows herself to show off her legs for a confidence boost, while avoiding distraction above the waist line. Once dressed she hugs Trouble, and dances slightly with them "We won!" she cries, riding the last of her high before the police car would take her desire to exist and make her feel small again. With a barely noticed gesture the two cast Iktomi's blessing boosting her charisma in case she needs to negotiate.


>>I might find a creative use for the vehicle mask spell... she texts on the team channel, uncertain if she is serious or not. To the coppers she says "Alright I am ready. Take me to the limousine." her still wet her hints lavender as her choice of shampoo, and her lips half curl into an amused or embarrassed smile. The kind that shields her from discomfort.

Perhaps it is a sign of your growing stature, but the Knight-Errant officers don't make a fuss about AM's short shower. Perhaps they have been instructed to be polite and patient, or maybe they're hoping to catch a glimpse of her running around in a bathrobe.

A distinct gurgle escapes the fat cop's throat when Rachel sweeps by in her Zoé Executive Suite suit.

"M'lady!" he manages to choke out, tipping his service cap belated after she's already past him and down the stairs. One would think that he would know what to expect after seeing her not even two months ago. Or maybe Rachel is that stunning, that every time seeing her is like the first.

The younger cop is not immune to Rachel's charms, but seems to have a little thing for AM. Perhaps it is her size and stature, but that's where his attention is directed. The two orks are heavily chromed, moreso than you would expect of a typical K-E officer in Redmond. They largely ignore both Rachel and AM but instead keep their eyes on Bobby.

You don’t have to drive far. The Redmond Civil Center acts as the city offices for the district of Redmond and is a tiny oasis of civilization in Touristville. This is where the crazies work, as anyone who gets into politics in Redmond is crazy. (The building is often referred to as the Sanitarium by the locals.) It’s also right next door to K-E’s district offices, which looks more like a walled military base. Armed drones are on patrol, with tracked drones on the sidewalks and flying drones circling overhead. On the astral, there are sturdy spirits on overwatch over the buildings.

It's the evening - although the sun won't set for another 90 minutes - so the neighborhood is in transition. The upstanding citizen are closing up shop and locking down their storefronts and doorways. Knight-Errant is spinning up its nighttime defenses in case the not-so-upstanding citizens pay an after-hours visit. The district offices are officially closed, but that seems to be when the Mayor likes to summon you. The cops are buzzed through the front door, then through a second security door and then to a security station where you’re cordially invited to temporarily surrender any weapons.

There's someone new at the security checkpoint. A female elf, who bears a passing resemblance to AM, is standing there in an Actioneer Business suit. Not as nice as Zoé or Armanté or even Mortimer of London, but still a cut above what you usually see in Redmond. She eyes you intently. Peeking on the astral will reveal her assensing you. A glance at her aura will tell you that she is one of the "aware". The aware have astral perception as their lone magical ability, which nonetheless sets them higher than the truly mundane. The largest place for them, by far, is in the world of security.

She studies the active spells.
"The Mayor may ask you to dismiss those," she warns. "And, to be clear, the request is merely a polite formality. If the Mayor wants them gone, they will be gone." Well, presumably it is the Mayor's "friend" who will do that, but the point still stands.

Once you've been relieved of your weapons, you are free to continue up a wide staircase leading to the upper floor. Inside, it is reasonably tidy; you see a few janitors and small drones cleaning. Rachel's heels click loudly on the polished concrete flooring, and the clicks echo through the quiet hallways.

With a smile behind my eyes, I say, “Looking sharp, Raven.” It surprises me, the attention the younger officer spares me. I’m used to being invisible when Rachel is in the room. She’s everything I’m not — seductive, easygoing, magnetic. Raven. Who’d notice the quiet, tense one always checking the exits when they could bask in someone like her? Even after all the growth spell, my new body and all the confidence it lends me. I don’t think I’ll ever feel the same level of carefree that she seems to feel so casually. The drive is short, but climbing out and walking into that compound feels like peeling skin off muscle. Logically, I know this isn’t an arrest — it’s politics, it’s business. But emotionally? I never thought I’d see the inside of a cop car, let alone walk willingly into a fortified precinct. Third time’s the charm, I guess. I’m getting used to it. Kind of.


I smile at the woman at the security checkpoint— pleasant, polite — a practiced move. I don’t mind Sonja taking off the blessing to improve my charisma; I mean, it gives a slight edge but I am good even without Iktomi directly rooting for me... But if she makes me cancel my growth spell? That’s a whole foot of height gone. I’ll be as small as... well Raven... and visualizing the discomfort in my minds eye makes me both stressed, and strangely close to my totem. “Of course...” I say sweetly, even as the realization hits me. This woman sees me, the mageling as the threat since Archmage Raven and Werewolf Bobby both mask their auras. Iktomi has a strange sense of humor considering how absurdly dangerous these two can be in a pinch. "I understand. Nice suit by the way." I say with a hint of a smile on the surface to the receptionist but really to Iktomi and Trouble because it is a sweet moment where my friends are just too skilled to look dangerous.

As for surrendering my firearm... I don't carry any. Even if I had a license for my toys, it’d be fake. I’m not that reckless to even bring one... and even if I did... the boomsticks are nothing compared to what Bobby and Raven can do... heck, nothing compared to what I can do with my mojo. “I’m unarmed.” I declare quietly, eyes forward, heartbeat study. “Praise Iktomi for keeping my life interesting” I whisper, and the mantra makes me feel a bit lighter... as if whatever happens even if it is the unlikely scenarios I fear... Whatever happens we can handle it. Trusting my team is a novelty for me... Something I couldn't even imagine when I first joined SIS.

"You are too kind," the elf replies to AM with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. It's unclear whether she doesn't believe AM, or doesn't care, or if she is modest. Perhaps she is trying to maintain a professional distance with people that she is supposed to be scrutinizing.

Bobby pulled out his taser without comment and handed it over.
The thing technically was a weapon even though it was completely unregulated.

When they were on their way he said to no-one in particular: "Security is stricter now. Seems like the mayor's office feels like things got more dangerous on town..."

"I am not surprised," Rachel remarks. "Considering what we told the Mayor about a certain someone's magical repertoire."

Her thoughts wander a bit, and she is curious about what outfit the Mayor's assistant is wearing today. She always liked what the elf was wearing. Great fashion sense.

Then she starts wondering... what's with all the elves?!

<<Wednesday Evening - 19:50 - May 31, 2079 - Redmond Civil Center, Touristville>>

You click-clack your way up the stairs, your footsteps echoing lightly up and down the corridors. Perhaps it is a sign of growing trust, but K-E does not escort you as they have in the past. You are left to find your own way.

You walk down the long hallway toward the Mayor's office. Everything is nice than one might expect of Redmond. It’s not nice on the scale of Bellevue or Downtown Seattle, but its tasteful and actively maintained. The walls are a pleasant cream color and look like they were painted within the prior year. Most of the trim along the floors and around door is dark-colored wood (or something that looks convincingly like wood) with few dings or chips. The lighting is warm. Everything seems functional. Compared to the rest of Redmond, this place is an oasis.

You arrive at a large, handsome desk at the end of the hallway. The smartly-dressed female assistant (yet another elf, pretty, competent) greets you. She's wearing a light grey pencil skirt suit that Rachel recognizes as Madame Tailleur, an up-and coming indie designer from Seattle. [Rachel rolled 4 hits.]

"Good evening," the assistant says in a professional tone. "The Mayor is expecting you." She opens up a wide set of double-doors that leads into a large office.

The office is much like the hallway outside, in terms of being nicer than expected. The mayor sits behind a large, ornate desk that looks like real wood, and maybe even carved out of a single tree. It’s heavy and imposing, somewhat unlike the woman who sits behind it, who is slender. Mayor Sonja is human, maybe of Germanic or Nordic heritage. Her age is indeterminate – young enough to still be idealistic, but old enough to have been mayor for three terms over ten years. She’s dressed modestly but neatly, maybe like what a middle-class professional would wear to church.

As usual, there is a man sitting in the far corner of the office. He appears human, with black hair and slightly darker skin, not unlike an Aztec or an Amerind. His build is muscular and dense; he’s wiry, not bulky. His suit practically screams nuyen. His features are not notable except for large eyes that study you intently. Unlike previous visits, he actually makes a sound this time: he clicks his tongue when he sees you. It's a little sound like 'tut-tut' or 'tsk-tsk'.

Sonja ... looks tired. Maybe the cares of the world are weighing on her. Or maybe it is late in the day on a weeknight when previously you've only seen her on weekends. Her hair is a bit frazzled and she doesn't stand to greet you. Instead, she's leaning back in her chair with her high heels up on the desk. She's either very comfortable with you, or too exhausted to make an effort. On the arm of her office chair she taps a gold credstick.

The Mayor gives a tired hint of a smile when the man behind her clicks his tongue. "Looks like you slipped something past security," she says with a wry smile that is more admiring than admonishing.

She is not as warm and friendly as previous visits. She does not invite you to sit, but will not object if you do. There's no Earl Grey tea or orange-like drink like there was previously.

Once you are in the room, the elven assistant leaves and closes the heavy doors behind her. Then the Mayor pulls her heels off the desk. She leans forward and puts the credstick on the side of the desk closest to you.

"Here," she says unceremoniously. "¥25,000, as agreed. Let it be said that I pay my debts, and promptly."

Bobby picked up the stick and nodded: "You know, we would have accepted this in a parcel - anything else we can do for you now that we are here?"

Once the coppers are gone, AM feels lighter. Her steps are a bit more confident and her mannerism more relaxed. The assistant is lovely as usual, but AM pays her little attention, she wants to see Mayor Sonja. When the woman takes out the credstick, AM’s lips curl to a hint of smile, the woman keeps her word. The gambit paid off.

“You make me believe that politicians can be decent people, it means a lot Mayor Sonja.” She says, the irony is not lost on her given the nature of their previous assignment, and the fact that both Governor(?!) Potter, her thought struggles with the honorfix, and Mayor Sonja are not what they seem to be.Still a person that keeps their word is someone worth respect, and a person in a position of power that does it, it implies on a longer potential relationship, or that she actually cares what they think despite the humiliating escort service.


Do you ever get used to the grandeur of this place? she asks, not expecting an answer, but seriously curious. It feels like it tries very hard to be much more than the city hall of a place like Redmond.

"I would not have sent this in a parcel," the Mayor responds coolly. "I am not in the habit of sending gold credsticks in the hands of couriers or even drones. This is still Redmond.

"As for wireless, well, I'm trying to keep the accounting neat and tidy. Let's leave it at that."

Mayor Sonja seems a bit more patient with AM. Maybe it's AM's compliment, or the flattering spells that adorn her, but the Mayor gives a tired smile.

"It wasn't always this way," the Mayor begins. "When I got here ten years ago..." She gets a distant stare like a soldier who survived a war. "It was not fit for metahuman habitation.

"Luckily, we had some far-sighted benefactors who saw the advantages of a functional Redmond government."

Your eyes go to the man in the corner, who doesn't respond, flinch, or even blink. He just stares with a furrowed brow as he usually does.

"I need to attract actual talent, not just idealistic crusaders. And to do that I need an environment conducive to productive work. We start here" - she indicates the Redmond Civil Center and the K-E headquarters next door - "and radiate out."

One wonders when this radiation will begin.

She turns back to Bobby. "But, to answer your question, no, there is nothing you can do now that you are here. It's just that..." She trails off for a moment, with another faraway look in her eye. "Very few people know what the people in this room know. I suppose it's a comfort to be with others who know the same things, and what they imply."

When they arrive, Rachel smiles at the elven assistant. Impeccable as usual. She always likes her clean style and how she conducts herself. A pencil skirt is not something she would choose for herself, it's so restricting, but it looks perfect on the elf, and Rachel can certainly appreciate that.

"Madame Tailleur," she comments. "Nice choice."



Inside, she does not say anything, she leaves the conversation to AM, who also knows the Mayor better.

She does smile knowingly, when the man in the background clicks his tongue. Not a lot of people would be able to see through Bobby's or her disguise. The other elf at the entrance couldn't. That is good to know. That guy might even be the real deal. Still, it makes her wonder, what his interest in Redmond is.

Rachel does not quite share the Mayor's assessment, though. They did not sneak anything past security. It's more a matter of privacy. Not everybody needs to know what they are capable of. Besides, most magic is not illegal, and as far as she knows, there is no "No Magic allowed!" sign on the City Hall they could have disobeyed.

Bobby shrugged and handed the stick over to AM:
"Even a trusted subordinate coming over to our place would have created less commotion than the police escort.

But fine, we are more than happy to do it your way. And we can assure you on our discretion. No digital traces on our findings remain and I've actively forgotten most of what we did for you anyway.

To be blunt: If this was meant to remind us to keep our mouths shut, you really don't have to worry. We are professionals and would prefer to keep you long-term as a contact.

So, since there aren't any refreshments around this time, are we done or is there anything else to discuss?"

AM is quietly captivated by the dragon’s aura — vast, complex, undeniable. She’s grateful, in a way, that the stranger has allowed her to see it. With masking magic, illusions, or who-knows-what kind of draconic trickery, such a presence could have easily been hidden from her still-developing Sight.

Even faking an aura like that would take immense power. So if it’s real — and her gut tells her it is — then someone of that magnitude chose to walk into this meeting in the flesh. In Redmond. That’s what unsettles her most.

One dragon in the shadows of this city might be a curiosity. Two, with their claws in the same pie? That’s something else entirely.

She turns back to Sonja, watching her not with suspicion, but curiosity sharpened by the moment.

“So it’s a recruitment thing?” AM asks, her tone earnest. “Because the real talent wouldn’t come work in a mundane office for a lawless city?”

She lets the question linger before adding, with a slight smile,
“That’s oddly pragmatic.”

Her mind flashes back to the Funhouse — the eccentric, magical HQ they'd visited not long ago. That space had its own weight, its own message.

“The Funhouse felt a bit different...” she says, eyes distant for a moment. “It had that practical layer you described — imposing, commanding, a beacon to draw in the gifted. But it also felt... like home.”

She tilts her head, thoughtful.

“I felt like Urubia was used to playing the queen, so she wanted a throne, but... also a place to exist at Dragon form. Which would naturally makes it enormous for us.”

A human mayor trying to appear bigger meets a dragon trying to appear smaller. The irony is not lost on her, but she feels like pushing the metaphor that far might not be received well, and AM tries to get a bit closer to Sonja rather than antagonize her.


If Sonja’s earlier comments — the hints about how much they know — were meant to threaten, AM doesn’t show it. She lets it pass without a flicker of concern. Because really — if you're sitting across from a dragon, what’s the point of threats? The cat does not threat the mouse, and she is definitely the mouse in this metaphor. And strangely, that thought settles her.

"Ha!" the Mayor laughs at Bobby. The man in the back does not react. "You speak your mind very freely, especially to a once-and-future employer. I take it that you are the brains of the operation and not the charm. If I am inconveniencing you with a payday then my deepest apologies. You may be excused." She dusts Bobby away with the back of her hand.

Once again, the Mayor is more patient with AM.

"Oh, it's less about real talent wouldn’t come work in a mundane office, but rather that they wouldn't come to work in an office without heat or indoor plumbing. The roof leaked, windows were broken. Half the lights didn't work and the Matrix was spotty. It was hot in the summer and cold in the winter. And employees really do want bathrooms, it turns out. So, yes, call it a retention plan if you like, but it was really more about dragging the building - and the associated mentality - out of the 19th century."

Mayor Sonja gives a little sigh about Urubia and the Funhouse.

"Urubia is trying to buy people, plain and simple. She's not alone in it; corps do the same thing all the time. The question is, to what end?

"Does she want Redmond as her personal fiefdom? If so, would she be a ruthless tyrant or a benevolent despot? There's no way to know. I prefer to live in a society with democratically-elected leaders who are beholden to the rule of law and the will of the voters, not kings and queens. But would the SINless agree, the folks that society has turned its back on? They may imagine that the alternative could be no worse than their current circumstances. Could you blame them for thinking so? The problem is that once that genie is out of the bottle, it's gone." She flies her hand up and away like a dove fluttering off.

The man in the back, while still not moving, seems to tighten at the discussion. He has one hand on the side of his face while the other grips the arm of the chair he's in. A sharp ear might even hear the arm of the chair under some strain.

"But, to play devil's advocate, the flip side is 'did Seattle really elect who it thinks it elected'? The answer, of course, is no. So democracy has its own flaws and vulnerabilities."

Rachel is glad, that the Mayor does not seem to take offense in Bobby's pretty direct words. He certainly brought his point across.

She also does not really know what their purpose of being here is, at the moment, but she can wait a bit until the little chat has been concluded. Some refreshments would have been nice, though.

Listening to the Mayor, she cannot help but wonder, who of the two is actually in charge here... talking about dragons and fiefdoms and democracy certainly does agitate the one in the back a little.

But if you have nothing useful to add, just smile politely and nod occasionally.

“Oh wow, it was that bad?” she says, eyes scanning the renovated space.
“I didn’t realize. It looks pretty impressive now. With the police station and the interior design, it feels like a palace.” She means it.

“As for what you want—maybe your will does carry the necessary weight. I mean, you’re trying to build something in a place people still call ‘the asylum.’”

She pauses. “I’ve never even thought about what kind of government I’d prefer. The idea that someone might care about what I want feels... absurd. In my world, there are winners and losers—and eventually, someone comes to collect. They call it taxes in one neighborhood, and protection money in another.”

The honesty startles even her. Sonja’s presence, her calm — maybe it’s more disarming than AM wants to admit. “And in Redmond... there are a lot of people, a lot of problems, but not many voters. So many are SINless, it makes you wonder if there’s any democratic incentive to fix things. You’re bound to anger people with real power just to help those who can’t even vote for you.”

There’s no edge in her voice — no challenge, no accusation. Just quiet curiosity. An invitation, if the mayor’s willing to take it.

Her eyes flick toward the dragon in the back — the stillness that isn’t still, the weight of presence that refuses to be casual. A part of her wants to speak to it, name the discomfort hanging in the air. But he’d gone out of his way to avoid her before.

She knows where she stands. So she says nothing.

Patrons are necessary, in the long run. Clients alone won't keep an organization functioning for long, not when someone else wants in and has a patron who can move things around in the background. SIS already has Razzak, but he's fairly distant. And while the mayor of Redmond may not be much of a patron, she is the best that they have locally, and their headquarter are in the Mayor's city, so better to keep her than alienate her.

But Tamarind wishes ever so much that it were not so. Or that at the least the mayor could set up a meeting in the matrix rather than face to face. Being in the presence of powerful people always left her feeling like she was caught naked.

But 'needs must' as her grandmother used to say, so she'd taken her hair out of the rag she'd tied it back with while working and gave it a quick brush, made sure her clothes hadn't acquired any stains since this morning, then loaded some Kanmushis, the Aunties, and her taser and pistol into one of the Pellipers and sent it off to cruise somewhat close (but not right over) the small government zone. Then naked of weapons and drones she'd trooped along, bringing up the rear, trying to avoid attention.

But the surprise discussion of government that broke out pulled her out of her shell. And listening to the mayor, she could hear how she was worn down in the face of, well, everything. She surprises herself by speaking out. "I'm sure that there is no perfect form of government, nor any form that can't be good. Like you said, one can be a benevolent dictator. In any form of government you can have someone who is trying to make things better over the long term, like you. In any form of government you can get someone who is corrupt, or petty, or focused on the very short term, or any of many other flaws, but many of those can be hidden at first so there is no sure way to make sure you don't have someone deeply flawed running things."

"So I think that ability to get rid of the most flawed leaders is the most important feature of a government." She doesn't bother making the obvious point that the voters of Redmond have had two opportunities to replace the Mayor and have not, so that by Tamarind's logic most don't consider her to be deeply flawed.

Mayor Sonja seems to appreciate the conversation.


"Yes, that's the crux of it, isn't it?" the Mayor agrees. "What are the incentives, and do the incentives lead you to do the right thing? Given the state of the world, perhaps not. The winners of the game are in a position to set the rules of the game going forward. Or, even more insidiously, they can set the definition of 'the right thing'. Surprise, surprise, they make the rules and definitions that favor themselves.

"So are the winners you see the best performers? Or are they just the ones who manipulate the game most adroitly?"

It appears to be a rhetorical question.

The Mayor seems surprised when Tamarind speaks, but not displeased.

"Yes, well as Aristotle said, metahumans are - by nature - a political animal. That means that politics will reflect all the strengths and weaknesses of metahumanity.

"I'm not so concerned about the flaws that are hidden. I'm concerned about the flaws that are out in the open that nobody seems to care about. Brackhaven didn't exactly hide his nature. And not only was he elected, but he was re-elected!" Her voice climbs to an incredulous pitch.

She settles down a bit. "Good riddance," she says, "but the fact that he existed at all does not reflect well on us as a society."

AM raises an eyebrow, surprised.

There’s more to Sonja than meets the eye. That kind of speech — raw, clear, unflinching — could’ve come from an activist on the street corner, not the mayor of a broken district. It has passion. The kind AM’s never allowed herself to feel for too long. The kind that feels dangerous when you grow up where hope gets people killed.

She grins to herself — just a little — and feels the familiar, bittersweet ache settle in her chest. The ache of dreams she abandoned too early, exchanged for survival.

Maybe that’s the difference.

Maybe if you grow up in a place where survival is a given — where food is a certainty, where safety is more than a spell — then some people, the exceptional ones, get to dream of changing the world.

She glances at Sonja again, this time with something like respect. Not for power. For daring to care.

“Well… our society did get rid of him eventually. Democracy is also institutions, and courts and limitations on the popular will. So I wouldn't dismiss us so easily, there was a moment we choose to be ruled by popular will, but to also have powerful institutions to limit that will.”

Her voice is even, but Iktomi stirs with amusement — a warm, spindly presence at the back of her mind, laughing softly at the hypocrisy.

She spoke for the same metahumanity she so often resents. For a world she’s still angry at. A world some part of her — the part with claws and spite and broken edges — wants to burn.

Tamarind still doesn't like being brought here by police, but she's beginning to feel like the mayor isn't bad as politicians go. Not that she wouldn't sacrifice SIS in a moment if it was convenient, it is how people in power operate and why it is dangerous to be noticed by them. But still, not bad.

She's blurted out more than enough thoughts for the month, but she can't resist replying to one of the mayor's bits of wording "I think a lot of people saw Brackhaven's racism as a virtue not a flaw. Didn't he work harder to hide his corruption, which was what brought him down? Good riddance, but I'm sure some would still bring him back."

<<Wednesday Evening - 20:15 - May 31, 2079 - SIS, Redmond>>

The audience with the mayor concludes. You are not escorted out of the building, although when you get to the lobby to retrieve Bobby's taser you are offered a ride back to SIS, or you can make your own way.

It's not far and it's a pleasant evening, as far as Sixth World weather goes. The temperature is mild, the wind gentle and even sweet, and overall feels like the softness of spring. The sun won't set for another 45 minutes, and it's glowing warmly as it dips toward the horizon in the west.

Touristville is about as 'normal' as it ever gets. It's a Wednesday so the red light district is fairly tame. Locals are drinking on doorsteps, kids play in the street, people buy noodles from sidewalk food carts, and nary a gunshot to be heard.

Despite this unusual tranquility, it still comes as no small surprise when you return to SIS and find Seraphina from the Bellevue Hackers Club sitting on your doorstep, apparently waiting for your return. She is human and looks like she is Korean, or maybe of northern Chinese descent. She's dressed in what looks like a school uniform, which is not unattractive but is shockingly out-of-place in Redmond. Her jaw is set in a way that gives her a defiant look, perhaps daring Redmond to frag around and find out.

Bobby was happy to get out of the mayor's office. It never payed to draw too much attention. Better to stay a valued asset instead of become something like an unpaid sounding board for political philosophy.

Seeing their contact with the Hackers' Club waiting on their doorstep, Bobby immediately felt his hackles rising. Personal visits from contacts usually fortold problems.

"Evening. Come on in - it's getting late and the freaks will be coming out soon. Something wrong with your commlink?"

To AM's opinion she made a step to further the relationship with the mayor. The political conversation gets her to think at what point in her life, if any, would she have a political opinion meaning seeing the world in lenses of values rather than of survival and utilitarianism. What a sweet way to see the world, to see things and decide if you like them or not - and not just how do you fit in. She is surprised with Seraphina's arrival, AM cannot imagine the teenager to like her given how much she has pushed her in negotiations, but on the other hand , perhaps like is not the desired outcome with rich sinner kids, but capable and trustworthy.


Yes come in, and if you brought the Westwind, lets park it inside." truth be told, AM would love to drive such a car manually and feel the luxury, acceleration and feeling of power... but their Ford and Xenon were... well boring and fuel efficient. Practical, but not... fun. Though her face remain guarded with little visual telltale sign of the little fantasy since, well... if Seraphina came she wanted something from them, and it wasn't a beer and a game of UNO.

Rachel, though she has learned a bit more about politics in Seattle since their last job that got them into the political arena, did not feel like she had much to add to the conversation, therefore she remained silent. AM and Tamarind had some things on their mind, and it would have been rude to not let them finish their conversation with the Mayor.

Once they are back in Touristville, she does not recognize the kid on their doorstep, but the others seem to know her. No name gets dropped, so she will have to ask about that later.

For now, she just says: "Hey there! What's up?"

When AM mentions the Westwind, she looks around to see if she can spot the car in the vincinity. Quite an expensive car, that girl must be loaded. When Rachel began driving not too long ago, she also looked into acquiring a car for her own at some point, but the ones that she likes the most are a little outside her budget still. And the Eurocar Westwind is quite high on that list. What a sleek car. She does not even care that it is fast, she wouldn't drive it like that. She just likes how it looks. There are a few more budget-friendly options as well, which she will likely settle for initially. There is still time to save up for something fancier down the road.

Once they are out of the mayor's office Tamarind reaches into a pocket and pulls out bit of string, and uses it to tie back her hair "Too hot to have all this around my neck while out walking. Maybe I should cut it short for the Summer? I had it short when I was in the military and it was so much more convenient. It is just takes SO long to grow it back out if I change my mind."

Once past the KE fortress, one of Tamarind's Pelippers drops down and hovers in front of her. A couple of mental commands and the Pelliper opens its storage compartment, letting out a memory of past deliveries of spicy fried noodles and a swarm of Flying Eyes. Tamarind then pulls out her personal side arm (a Fichetti Executive Action), and with that on her hip and the three Aunties circling the group she is much happier about walking through Touristville.

It isn't that Touristville is as bad as all that, and if she isn't a local she's at least somewhat known by now. And she is with the formidable trio of Mato, Bobby, and AM. But she's also a woman in Redmond, and would rather make it clear that she is not easy prey. After all, another day she might be walking alone.

When they see the girl on the steps she messages Mato <<Who is the Belleville belle on our steps?>>

There is no Westwind nearby. The only thing that stands out is a kid straddling a Yamaha Kaburaya. It's a sleek, loud motorcycle that costs twice as much as a Suzuki Mirage. There's a young human male sitting astride it, maybe late teens or early 20s. He's wearing "street" clothes but he's not dressed like a local. Either he's a tourist trying to look like a local or he comes from some other part of the Sprawl where people dress like that. He's watching your conversation with Seraphina.

If Tamarind directs her question to Bobby or AM, presumably they will tell her that 'Seraphina' was a client back in mid-January. She is the president of the Bellevue Hackers' Club, and captain of the debate team. SIS extracted a friend of the Hackers' Club who had been kidnapped. However, as teens, the Hacker's Club negotiated a payment schedule.

Seraphina gives AM a steely look, then an appraising glance over Rachel and Tamarind, before turning to respond to Bobby.

"No, thank you," she says stiffly to the invitation to step inside. "Our business will not take long." Then she launches into her prepared speech.

"Here," she says, pressing a gold credstick into Bobby's hands. "You will find the remittance of ¥40,000, fulfilling our financial commitment ahead of the stipulated due date. This represents our remaining monthly installments for May, June, July, and August. Please verify the amount so that we may agree that the debt is discharged."

Bobby frowned, but accepted the stick, handing it once again to AM for verification.
"Thanks, we'll give you a receipt if you need one, but from our side, we are happy to conclude this part of the business with you.
Are you still interested in gig work for us, or do you wish to fully sever our business relationship? Either option works for us and we wish you and your club all the best."

<<What's going on? Is today the day to close open ledgers? The only thing missing is that shoemaker guy coming over to pay off the remaining medical debt for his son>>

AM visually examines the credstick, turning it in her hand as if trying to wrap her head around the situation. Then, with a few practiced swipes, she verifies the amount. She texts >>It checks out, I guess Christmas comes early this year. Though strangely, she is not overjoyed at the increase to their finances. Her detective mind is suspicious of a teenager having access to so much hard nuyen to pay under the table. Seraphina clearly didn't have access to these funds in the past or the negotiations would have been considerably easier.

So, uses her magical senses to assense Seraphina and her friend. Honestly, if that bike had an aura she would assense it as well, the Kaburaya was almost identical in specs to her Suzuki Mirage while costing double, so a person buying a Kaburaya sort of implies that money was not the main consideration. Given that, such a person may do a lot of after market modification to such a ride which would make riding it very exciting. Or not, her mind is drifting a bit with the thought of having a joy ride on a tricked up bike popping in her head. Perhaps Kira
is the right person to meet for a night out.

The steely glance towards AM, after mentioning the Westwind. The lack of said car. The sudden influx of quite a lot of money. Coincidence? Probably not.

At least, that is Rachel's theory for now.

This ... this could be a problem down the road. We were going to get there eventually, but this brings it forward.

Some months it was only the money from this old arrangement with the hacker club that kept the agency balanced -- outside of big jobs, where they tended to just divide up all of the money. Which meant that after this payout, they'd really better talk about putting aside a portion of the larger payouts, to give the agency better financial footing.

That or shake down Razzak for a monthly stipend.

Either way, it was not a discussion to have on their front steps. Especially not with these annoying people around. But speaking of those annoying people, it would be best to remember names and vehicles for later.

One of the Aunties had been holding position near Tarmarind's left shoulder, with another watching behind the group as they walked, and the third on a wider orbit around the group. She leaves the one that had been by her shoulder in place, grabbing Seraphina's face and voice as best as its limited sensors can. The one watching behind them she left on that duty.

She walked towards the bike while the third Aunty drifted onto over-left-shoulder position. A quick matrix check looks over the information being shared by the man and his bike, and Approaching the motorcycle man she quietly says "Thanks for getting her here safely, and getting her back where she belongs after. Not much trouble you couldn't outrun on that speed machine! Is that the 2078 model?" She isn't much interested in motorcycles, but it looks fairly new so it seems like a reasonable guess, and what she does know is that people with high end rides usually love to talk about them.

While waiting for a response she mentally flips through AR to bring up stats for the 2078 and 2079 models and an article comparing the two, starting to look for specific questions to ask.

Bobby's softer approach seems to thaw a bit of Seraphina's frostiness. While still very formal, her tone is now less confrontational.

"Yes, our organization is available for contract, either project-based or retainer-based," she nods. "And we may retain your services again, should the need arise."

AM scans Seraphina and finds her in good health. [Essence and 'ware TBD] There's a certain tightness to her aura, a hardness that wasn't there previously. It's not uncommon to see it as kids turn into adults and the pressures of the Sixth World bear down on them, but Seraphina is even a few steps beyond that. Perhaps it is the weight of expectations for someone from Bellevue Village Green Private High School, or the pressures of responsibility, but all the joy has been squeezed out of her.

The kid on the Yamaha Kaburaya is a different story. While from outward appearances he's trying to look tough, he actually has some cyberware with violent potential. A cyberspur in his right forearm immediately jumps out at AM, and some sort of cybergun in his left forearm. Not only that but he's also had some sort of muscle work done. He doesn't look big and bulky, but under his skin his muscles are quite dense. He has reaction enhancers up and down his spine, presumably to drive better. He has also a datajack plus something implanted in his head, maybe a commlink. He's full of the cockiness of youth.

"Hey, null persp!" he says to Tamarind in a surprisingly upbeat tone, as if he's just out here having fun.

"It's actually a prototype model for the 2080 model," he says conspiratorially, tapping the side of his nose. "Fell off the back of the truck!" He laughs rather too loudly at his own joke.

"They didn't change much, just some styling and some minor adjustments to the intake valves. The improvements are marginal, but they're trying to sidestep some issues from the older models, like rough idling, hard starting, and potential misfires. All pretty rare to begin with, but you have to improve something between model years.

"And, yeah, not much is going to outrun me. Where are those Crimson Crush bozos I keep hearing about? Let's see how they can keep up on their Scorpions and Blitzens and Titans. Pah!" He doesn't spit but his tone of contempt is not concealed. "I'm disappointed," he adds with bravado.

Bobby nodded:

"Happy to hear that. Anything we can do for you or your friends right now?
I assume the inheritance of your friend finally came through. If there is anything else you need help with that would require an adult present, let us know."

That kid did not look like someone a Bellevue princess should be hanging out with, no suit is going to install a cyberspur and a gun in their kid would they? Perhaps muscle enhancement everyone want to be bigger and stronger, myself included but that kid was trouble. AM concluded. He looks more like a razor boy, or if he is any good a shadow runner.


Then again, she was not her mother and it was none of her buissness so she just hints at Trouble that following these two for a while longer seeing the interaction between them, just to make sure Seraphina is safe might be prudent. "Whats with the early payout? Leaving town or something?" she asks genuinely interested, but not wishing to probe further than a casual jab. It makes little economic sense that they'll decide to pay in advance what is effectively an interest free loan, and a person with Seraphina's education would know that.

Rachel follows the conversation, but not knowing the girl, she doesn't have anything useful to add.

Instead, she heads over to Tamarind and the biker guy to see what they are up to.

He seems like someone who hasn't really been in situations, where you have to be scared for your life. He might not take danger seriously, until he has really seen it up close, but she will not be his teacher. Life itself will take care of that at some point. And hopefully, he will be able to see things more clearly then. His attitude is not something you want in someone that is there for your protection, assuming that is his role here.

So, she just says: "Hey! Playing bodyguard tonight? She's pretty cute, I guess you don't mind that too much. Or are you guys a thing?"

The bike itself does not interest her much. Sure, bikes look fun, but they are not really for her. She has been riding passenger a few times in the past, guys like to ride bikes to look cool. And, well, it usually works. The closest vehicle she has been looking into herself, would be a Thundercloud Morgan, which is some kind of small ATV, not really meant for the city. She wonders, whether it would even be useful to get around town. Maybe Thundercloud even offers a city variant. People drive bikes, and trikes, and quads, and whatnot, so why not? But what kind of outfits would be fitting, if she were to drive one? That's a tougher question. It's quite affordable, which is a plus. On the pictures, the Morgan is usually shown with some kind of big gun mounted on top, which would have to go, obviously, if she were to get one of those. Are those guns even standard equipment? Probably not. Tamarind surely knows more about that.

"Prototype of the new year? Lucky guy! You must know some useful people!" Young men won't usually have much time for someone with her age and looks, so she avoids giving personal experiences and tries to keep the conversation focused on him. "Not your first ride, I'm guessing? You look too comfortable to be new on a bike."

Then, because she has some heart, she does drop one piece of advice. "If you are ever racing the Crush" -- at the last moment she'd remembered not to say running away from the Crush -- "just make sure you have a clear route. They know the area, and sometimes they can call call in other units who are in position to intercept." She doesn't bother adding that you can't outrun bullets if they get close and really want you down, either he gets that or nothing she says is apt to dent his illusions of invulnerability.

To AM she sends <<Do we know the family affiliation of this Seraphina girl? Any risk that family found out and are paying off a debt, but are going to be unhappy with us?>>

>> We do. She is somehow related to some serious Triads. I don't know the details exactly, but one of my contacts in that organization was whispering in her ear as she negotiated that deal with me, and once we finished the job he thanked us for taking her seriously. So my guess is that deal is a deal especially with these guys. I don't see any special problems for agreeing to take her money. Not that we have much choice she is impossibly determined when she sets her mind to something. Like hiring us for 100k to rescue her boyfriend... I wonder if they Brent is still her boyfriend... Can never tell with teenagers.

To the kid she says "If you are so eager to compete, I am pretty good with a bike. The Rusted Stiletto's are the one to go for a serious race, Crimson Crush are more into fighting and terrorizing than racing. Give me a buzz if you ever compete and I might come."

"No, no need for anything right now," Seraphina tells Jack. "There may be some business opportunities that arise, but those are still in the discovery phase."

This is corpo-speak for scoping out an opportunity and doing recon.

Her jaw locks a bit at the mention of an inheritance. "Mr. Sihler has not yet reached the age of majority," she says tersely.

AM asks about the early payout, which earns her a hard look from Seraphina. "One would think that if we were leaving town that we would skip payment. No, we are staying here, and as such our reputation is key. Good name in man and woman is the immediate jewel of their souls."

She looks like she might be about to say more, but she stops herself.

The kid on the bike continues to talk to Tamarind.

"It's not so much about who you know, but rather what you are willing to do. The good Lord gave us two hands so that we could take with both of them!" He laughs boisterously again. "To be in power, you don't need guns, or money, or even numbers. You just need the will to do what the other chummer won't." He clenches his fist to show that he is such a man.

Tamarind gives him some advice on avoiding interceptions, and maintaining your line of retreat. His head does a weird movement where it looks like he's shaking and nodding at the same time.

"But that's when it's fun!" he insists. "That's when it's a challenge. When they try to block off a street with two sedans but they leave a meter between them so you fly through at top speed" - he mimes popping a wheeling - "while bullets are bouncing off the bike armor you installed for just that purpose..." He gives a look of rapture. "That's the sweet stuff. Better than Bliss, chip-truth."

So much testosterone, it's hard to separate fact from fiction. With his gear, it seems ... plausible that he could do this? But it also sounds like a teenage fever dream fueled by the trids.

He gives AM a questioning look when she proposes racing. He looks skeptical but in the end he nods. "Gimme your comm and I'll let you know," he says. "Just make sure you bring enough nuyen to wager."

He straightens up when Rachel approaches. He runs a hand through his black hair - which is stylishly done - and gives her a dashing smile.

"Why, hoi to you too!" he says to her, smiling widely. "We're not a thing; she just a, uh, business associate. I'm single, if that's what you're asking. You asking for yourself or a friend? Or yourself and a friend?" A leering grin.

"C'mon, hop on, I'll take you for a ride." Presumably that's a double-entendre. He nods over his shoulder to the back of the bike, although this implies that he's willing to ditch Seraphina, at least temporarily, for a chance to impress Rachel.

“We’ll see if he’s got the skill to match the bravado.”

AM watches the teen with a flicker of narrowed eyes. If there’s one thing she truly dislikes, it’s bravado without bragging rights. If the kid can back it up? Sure. Let him strut. Until then, he’s firmly on her annoying list. Right next to Big Stank.

She’s more amused than threatened. Especially watching how fast Rachel has him wrapped around her little finger. She needed like one sentence and the boy seems already eager to get into her pants — or whatever it is cocky teenagers do these days when they think they’re being slick.

“Praise Rachel for making me invisible...” she whispers under her breath, mostly to her totem.She imagines Iktomi amused. Feeling it at the edge of her perception.

“I needed someone like her...” she muses silently. More seductive. More radiant. Let her take the spotlight. I won't miss it. It is less stressful this way, and I am pretty sure that horny gangers are not going to spray-paint provocative graffiti of me anymore, not when I share walls with someone like her.

Her lips curl in a private smile. It’s nice — fading into the background. It gives her breathing room. Space to exist without explanation. Maybe that’s what she loves most about her new physique — the muscles, the abs, the height — they make her less approachable. Less of a target. She can dress how she likes now, not just how she needs to.

She glances at Tamarind with a spark of appreciation. “She’s a natural, isn’t she?” AM says, watching Rachel move.
“It’s like poetry.”

"Nice try, Romeo, but I am not much of a bike person, really." Rachel answers calmly. "And I like my men a bit more ... mature."

"Besides, you already have a passenger. She relies on you here. Not cool, if you are going to ditch her, even for a while. And like she said, this here isn't going to take long. So, own up to your word. Because, that's cool."

The kid barks a laugh at Rachel's rejection. "Ha! I don't blame you. I prefer them older myself!"

He leers approvingly at Rachel again, the implication being that she would qualify as an older woman. Technically this is true. Rachel, while certainly not old, has at least four or five years on this kid.

"Nah, I know she's safe with you," he says of leaving Seraphina behind. "I heard all about you. One of you chummers wrestled a bear! Ha! I would have liked to have seen that. Where did you get a bear anyways? Did you go through Lou? That greaser won't even sell me a tiger. Did you buy it or just rent it?"

Bobby shrugged:
"Alright then, I'm not going to pry into your finances - provided this sudden payoff doesn't bring a bunch of goons to our door that want it back. I can rely on that, can I?"

Bobby's friendly demeanor went pretty serious pretty quickly at that last sentence.

Seraphina gives Bobby a strange look that is difficult to parse. Is she scared, or annoyed, or confused, or offended, or does she gave gas?

In the end, she doesn't answer the question. She turns her back on Bobby, walks to the motorcycle, climbs on, and tells the kid, "It's a school night, let's go."

The kid fires up the motorcycle and revs the engine loudly a few times. The noise and commotion seems to make him happy. He kicks up the kick stand and tells Rachel, "Call me!" even though he hasn't provided his commcode.

Bobby looked after them, before turning to the team: "Probably a good idea to have someone standing watch here tonight. I've got the feeling that the cash influx will cause trouble directly."

"Teens nowadays go to sleep extremely early." AM comments in a deadpan tease. Then to Bobby, she suggests "Well Trouble just likes troubles... she says, fondly blowing a kiss at thin air at the place where the cat spirit resides currently."

Trouble does not argue, and just manifests "Redmond is always fun, I can't believe you left this place. There is always something to look at."

<<Thursday Morning - 08:08 - June 1, 2079 - SIS, Redmond>>

No goons arrive that evening, or overnight. There are no explosives that blow up Mato or blast out all of SIS' windows. If anything, the night is calmer than what you might expect in Redmond, especially on a warm evening. Perhaps it is because the moon is brand new, but the overall atmosphere is almost relaxed. It almost feels like the calm safety of Bellevue, where order is kept because that's what the locals prefer.

The next morning there's a knock on the front door of SIS. Sure enough, it's the shoe salesman come to pay his monthly installment to Bobby. The salesman, whose name has been lost to time, shall be known as Al.

Al is holding a cup of soykaf. If or when Bobby answers the door, Al will make his ¥20 and offer him the soykaf. It's not particularly good soykaf, but it's a kind gesture. Perhaps things are looking up for Al at the shoe store to the point where he can spare a nuyen for a soykaf that's outside of his payment plan.

"Here," he says. "Thanks." A man of few words.

Bobby did indeed come to the door and nodded to Clive Clark, pocketing the 20 Nuyen.

"Thanks, you've been very diligent in paying this off. By my count the six months are up. Wait just here a second."

He went to the front desk and pulled out a little card, pressing it into Clive's hand: "I really appreciate your due diligence and your love for your son. So I wanted to give you that: It's an investment account in the name of your son. I allowed myself to double the amount you were paying me back - my friend Mato helped me pick the stocks, nothing fancy, just some of the mega corps - those will always hold value. In any case it's around 2000 Nuyen right now. And if you tend to it just like you did with me, I'm sure it will be just enough for when your son needs some higher education."

Clive, who sometimes uses the nickname 'Al' for inscrutable reasons of his own, doesn't immediately react to what Bobby is saying. Indeed, his face has a definite look of "does not compute".

"Nah," he says in response, but out of disbelief, not rejection.

Receiving the necessary assurances, he starts to shake. His hand trembles to the point where he drops the cup of soykaf (unless Bobby had already accepted it). He slumps down on the top step - perhaps sitting in a puddle of soykaf, or perhaps not, he seems oblivious to such things right now - and hunches over his knees. His shoulder shakes. It's clear he's trying not to audibly cry, but his body language is unmistakable.

After a couple of minutes he has collected himself.

"You have to realize," he says between labored breathing. "I don't think I've ever had ¥200 to my name at one time, let alone ¥2,000. I'm... I'm... not sure I trust myself with it. You have no idea how much the ¥20 I saved each month tempted me. I'm terrified that I'll mess this up, and make things worse instead of better."

He turns his head to Bobby with a look of hope crossed with desperation.

"Can you ... hold it for me?" he asks. "Like, what those rich people do. A trust, right? Hold it in trust for my son."