"""No, it is about your union though. Like i said, it's not something Im getting to out here.""" She ficuswd on where the movement was coming from. Just to be sure.

The moment turns from a shuffle to a thump - oh wait, the shuffling was probably bedding, and now he's walking.

Nope, not to the front door, he's stumbling to the drekker for a leak. Great.

He yawns mightily while fluid tinkles into fluid. """Look, if it's that fraggin' important, it'll come up in the general meeting and we can vote on it. Contract renegotiation's not up until next year, and my dues are fully paid up. So frag off and let me sleep, my shift starts in another four hours."""

Heather let out a sigh. This being coy part was grating and it seem it was going to be another one that needed a cruel reality check. """Yeah about that, your company just got bought out by Mitsuhama and part of the acquisition was all the employees. I'm here to ensure you don't get recruited.""" She looked at her watch and waited for the heated reaction.

This new information has clearly had a galvanizing effect. There's a series of incoherent curses from the door's speaker, and Chuck flings it open.

He's not a prepossessing sight. Human, but Heather has seen more attractive orks. Ill-groomed, unkempt, unshaven are the least of it. His whole face is an asymmetric testament to what genetics can do for you - or not. The waft of body odours and alcohol does nothing to improve matters. He looks as if he could play Caliban without really trying.

And apparently, he sleeps nude. Wow. Dinner and a show. Without dinner, and it's not a great show.

"""Whaddya mean? They can't do that! I got rights! The union'll hear about this!"""

Vigo takes payment from Carlos, and scoots off with the quiet of electricity.

Carlos and Connor huddle together under a bus shelter, and ponder their next move in the light of the advertising display, that lights the drizzle around them as a sort of fog of commercialised light.

Connor's earlier concern about his lodge does suggest that he, at least, might head there soon in sheer self-preservation. Of course, Carlos's eye in the sky might verify activity around their respective dwellings, should they want an additional eye on things.

+++Dagnabbit. I'm going to charge him double for this.+++

Heather kept her eyes on his, reaching up to put a hand on his chest to push Chuck back inside. First as a guiding gesture, then with a touch of force to get his attention and get him back inside and out of the hallway. She would follow him in and kick the door closed with her heel. """I don't like being the bearer of bad news, but your union isn't in a position to do squat about Mitsuhama. You know this. Right now they are sitting at your workplace waiting to scoop you up.""" She tried to effect a more empathic look on her face. She knew from experience that corps play dirty. This was another day in the big hustlers making lives difficult for the little people. Four out of a whole bunch more who were going to be getting ready for Orientation Day with Japanese salarymen who did not give a frag about them. Sometimes it made her wonder why she was so eager to join up with all that mess.

"""That's why Ah'm here. To make sure 'you' don't wind up with 'them'." Hopefully, he was not the suicidal type. She was worried about Cindy offering herself upon hearing her new forced employment opportunities. Angry she could handle; giving up deserve a slap upside the head.

Chuck apparently realises a couple of things. First, that he's naked. Second, that Heather is in fact ostensibly of the feminine persuasion, and third, that the air of the outdoors is both cold and moist.

This compounded set of realisations drives him not to resist her efforts to preserve his modesty, and instead he shuffles back inside without protest, and without much prompting. He makes a baffling, in its futility, attempt at modesty while shuffling back to the bedroom, saying all the while: """Fraggin' suits. Never shoulda trusted 'em. I ... frag 'em! Gonna burn their whole fraggin' building to the fraggin' ground.""" He continues his litany of felonious intent while pulling on clothing. """Just see how they like a coupla dozen kilo thermates turning it all into swiss cheese!"""

While Chuck prepares himself to face the world, with or without a criminal SIN to his name, Heather sees that his living space appears to be a sort of bizarrely frou-frou wonderland of lace and velvet and tapestries and finely-turned wood and porcelain and ... dollhouses. One dollhouse, the size of a small refrigerator, appears to have actual, individually crocheted doilies for each coffee table. If he did the joinery in it (and the tools scattered around his living room suggest that he did) then he does the most exquisite imaginable work. There's a tapestry smaller than a pocket square, depicting in minute detail a needlepainting of a hunt. There's a porcelain doll in a velvet dress on a chaise longue. An upholstered chaise longue. Holding a wine glass the size of a medicine capsule.

Chuck is either in the wrong career, or the wrong reality.

"""Carlos, I have to get back to my place to collect some lodge materials. I want to make sure Mitsuhama doesn't have a link to trace me more easily. I don't think I will ever be able to go back there again."""

Connor gives him the address of his home. """If you can spare a drone to scout ahead to see if my place is staked out, that would be helpful. Once I get close, I'll summon a spirit to do the same. If necessary, I could tell it to destroy my active Lodge. Let me know where you end up going. We should meet up later."""

Then he heads out. Summoning a taxi with his fake SIN, he directs the ride to get him close to his home, but not in direct sight of it in case a stakeout is present.

+++Damn, some sleep would go well, now.+++

Connor is on his way, mere minutes later, when a message comes through from Carlos saying:

<<<As near as I can tell, the coast is clear for now. But who knows how long? I'm going to clear out my place.>>>

Not much later, Carlos sends a message to Heather, reading:

<<<Tell me where and when. Anywhere in the 'plex should be fine.>>>

As Connor approaches his digs, Carlos' message brings him some comfort. +++I may actually get away with this.+++

He contemplates the cryptic messages they both got. Someone says they are trying to help. Is it a ploy by Mitsuhama? Connor decides to follow Carlos's example. He stops at a shop on the way and picks up a cheap burner phone. As he continues home, he sends a message through it to the unknown entity.

<<<I'm one of your potential clients. I'm interested. What is your plan?>>>

Connor gets to his place without apparent drama. Maybe he got lucky and Mitsuhama just decided that he didn't want to hang around for a meeting after his shift, and had bugged out early, so they'd get him later. Maybe they were just not moving as fast as he was. Maybe they didn't want to get rough yet.

No matter, the door opens, there's nobody there to hassle him, and the closest thing to a demand on him is a reminder that the Matrix access account is trickling money away from him. Nothing new there.

Heather's system vibrates to let her know that the unknown number that's Connor's new burner sent her a message.

It also sends her an automated message letting her know that the contact officially recorded as being Cindy in her electronic address book, has filed a formal notice to the effect that that person is now dead.

It's very tasteful. It adds a black border and an R.I.P. comment to that communication chain. Who said the Matrix was soulless?

No reply immediately from the unknown caller, so Connor gets busy. He dumps the duffel bag he used on that abortive camping trip with Laura. Good memories of her, but the trip scotched any chance for the two of them to be a couple.

After dis-Lodging his set-up Lodge materials, he packs them gingerly into the bag, along with the spare set of materials and the formulae, all of the previous well padded with clothing necessities. Next the cyberterminal. A towel around that. Then bathroom supplies (including toilet paper!). Then on top the armor clothing. finally the Predator and ammunition.

He put on the secure long coat and the fake SIN credstick inside it. Oh, and the one-off spell sheets in inside pockets, too. Then he stops for a moment ... and looks around his home.

+++ Not any more. What am I doing? Where the hell am I supposed to go? It would be so easy to just call in to work and be done with all this running. +++

"""Yeah? Fuck that! """

Connor walks out the door into his future. Look up and down the hallway. Look around out the door. Down the street and around a few corners. Hail a cab and get to somewhere far away and wait for a call. Carlos, Unknown Helper. Whatever.

At least these jobs allow Heather to meet the most interesting people. """Yeah, pardner, before you start blowing stuff up we might want to lay low for a while.""" Honestly, she was really impressed with the detail. She had a dollhouse once upon a time. After a while of disinterest, it wound up collecting dust in the attic. There were so many more fun things to do outside then stay inside playing with little doll people. She hopes to the almighty this was his hobby and not some weird fetish.

While she waits for Chuck to get dressed she checks her messages. Her blood runs cold concerning Cindy's message. Either the girl decided to off herself or she decided to scorch her I.D. and go into hiding. It was reminiscent of Heather's circumstances, only she just dropped off the information grid instead of leaving bodies behind. """Dammnit girl, you better have done it...."""

She hits Carlos and Conner on their burners with the same request: <<<Give me an address and I'll pick you up both up. Pack light and leave unnessacary electronics that can be tracked behind or turned off.>>> She stressed left behind and turned off. She did not want Mitsuhama picking up their trail because someone left their favorite gaming device turned on linked to a wireless connection.

Connor just about sends the address of a good little sushi place not far from where he lives lived. Caution overrides taste, and he has the cab pull over in front of one of those greasy spoon diners he has avoided all his life. That address he sends, with the request to ask him inside if he is "Mr. Smith".

A moment later and he is in a booth with a cracked vinyl bench and a clear view of the front door as well as of the way to the kitchen. """Soykaf, black, and a piece of that apple pie in the display case, please," he says to the server.

+++ Let's see who comes for me. +++

A powerbolt scrip and the improved invisibility scrip are closest to hand inside his coat.

Chuck throws on his clothes, and then, apparently still fuddled from interrupted sleep calls to Heather: """So hang on, what did you want me to do? What do you mean by "laying low", exactly? We going by union hall?"""

He doesn't show any sign of trying to pack up the dollhouses, just grabs a jacket and some kind of fanny pack, and looks roughly ready to go. Maybe he just travels light.

But he does grab a small keg, and slings it over his shoulder.

Cindy's present condition is evidently unknown - at any rate, nothing more from her is immediately forthcoming.

Carlos sends Heather the address of a street corner. It's right by a park of sorts, where kids like to race their drones. Lots of fairly anonymous, loud, chaotic activity. It's in South Tacoma, not that far from where she's wrangling Chuck. Of course, Cindy's place is a little further away, if Heather feels inclined to go feel for a pulse.

Maybe it's the late morning, maybe it's the stress of the new reality, but Connor finds the soykaf and pie appealing. He orders another round. As he waits for that to come, he decides to add another layer of defense here, and summons a Hearth spirit of this place.

+++ I wonder what this will look like. +++

In response to Conner's call, she (it's impossible not to think of her as female) drifts into view.

She wouldn't have seemed out of place in a diner in 1957, complete with knee-length skirt, apron, pen stuck in her hair, low heels, and a figure that suggested that she really enjoys taste-testing the baked goods.

She snaps her gum and says: :::What's yer order, honey?::: From the front pocket of her apron she extracts a notebook, and stands poised with her other hand on her hip.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Half a city away, Heather notices that Chuck has a somewhat old-school 'link on his belt, the way that many tradesmen carry theirs. It's not a bad hands-free solution, but of course, it's a security hole.

He wears boots, speed-laced up his ankles, and looks generally like a shaved mutant chimp who lost a fight but is ready for the next.

Connor goes with the flow. :::I'd like an order of vigilance, please. Let me know if anything on the astral enters the confines of this building. :::

The hearth spirit nods, and calls to the back of the diner: :::One watch-and-tell on table three!::: then she turns back to Connor and smiles sweetly. :::Anything else, honey? We got pecan, key lime, cherry and strawberry, and coffee of course. Or wouldja like our strawberry lemonade?:::

Once Connor has finished ordering, and returns his senses to this side of reality, he can settle back with his actual order and watch the trid stations that play in the upper corners of the room. It's the usual stuff that you would see with coffee; the news never changes in some ways. Lone Star is vehemently denying improprieties with respect to their contract with the 'plex, claiming that it's a smear campaign from rivals who are in league with criminals to fabricate evidence undermining faith in governing structures. Urban Brawl leagues are in debates about a reorganisation, with team members proposing a more free-flowing structure. Mitsuhama is offering a reward for information leading to the safe return of some of their citizens. The latest craze in suburbia is AR gardens, with virtual lizards and insects crawling around hermetically-sealed automated aeroponic environments. Unauthorised simsense recordings of Callia Menegucci having sex with her boyfriend, Torvin Ingmarsson, have hit the 'trix.

Not bad soykaf. Pretty decent pie.

Connor perks up at the mention of Mitsuhama. He listens carefully to hear what the reward is. +++ What do they think I'm worth, and how likely is someone to rush to turn me in? +++

Mitsuhama appears to have a sliding scale, depending on the citizen in question.

Marissa Devereaux (16), a lovely young lady with bountiful assets, the treasured daughter of Mitsuhama executives, is worth a cool NY 25,000 for her safe return. This is paired with an excerpt from a tearful plea from horrified parents (might have been much longer, but trid stations go for the money shots).

And then, four people who may or may not be in Marissa's company, and may or may not know where she is, and may or may not be armed. Chuck's deformed, hideous face is right there in full 3D. NY 2,500. Can anyone look upon that face and not imagine what hideous indignities he might have visited on her hapless, tender flesh? Cindy's face appears on the trid. NY 4,000. She looks cool, haughty - sadistic? Obviously jealous of young Marissa's looks. Carlos, too, is worth NY 4,000, and something about the trid image makes him look street tough. Mean. Pitiless. Would he ever have hesitated to grab poor girls and stuff them in the back of his van? You be the judge. And Connor. Well, dwarves all look alike, don't they? But he's still worth NY 10,000.

There's some muttered stuff about terms and conditions applying, but really, who pays attention to the small stuff?

+++ A bounty on my head? Suggesting I might have had something to do with the disappearance and abuse of a child? Logical ploy, but you bastards! The day will come when you will want to pay a lot more than NY 10,000 for my head. +++

A hard little grain of anger and resolve forms deep in Connor's heart. And the need to remake his appearance to be different from the image they show comes to mind. NY 10,000 is a lot of money to a lot of people. He heads to the bathroom to find an empty stall, averting his face from any in the diner who might have seen the trideo. Time to change his appearance.

Heather takes her eyes off the miniature houses and looks at Chuch, """I mean we're going to find a hole in the wall and hide out there till this blows over. The people I work for are interested in you NOT joining Mitsuhauma. Before you ask, the people I work for don't have names, but they don't work for the Japanese.""" At least she thinks her friend doesn't work for them; not her problem. """So that means turn off your 'link and don't try to respond to any messages from friends or family for the next few days."""

While she is talking she goes about checking the windows, carefully peeking outside to ensure no one new had appeared. """I got three others I need to scope up before we disappear into the background.""" Looking back over to Chuck. """You got everything?"""

Now at last, Chuck pauses long enough to have a thought enter his brain and actually tarry on its way.

"""Who 'xactly you working for? What's this all about?"""

On the other hand, while asking, he's moving in the right direction and does take his 'link off his belt to thumb it off. It gives a sort of sad chime. """Uh, yeah, 'm good.""" On the way out, he slaps the 'link back on his belt, then uses his free hand to pull the door shut.

Four doors down the passageway, between them and the staircase, a door pops open. Someone pops their head out, looks down the passage, sees Chuck and Heather, and their eyes open like a collapsible satellite dish. The head pops back in, and the door slams shut.

"""Interested parties,""" Heather said. """Folks that don't want Mitsuhama to gain an advantage.""" Sounded cold and liked the people she works for did not care about Chuck other than as pawns on the table. """Lucky for everyone they hire to play the game, the person that gives a damn.""" See, it was not all about the money, sometimes some people in the shadows do care. She paused long enough to eyeball the person sticking their head out the door. She hurried her gait to get back to the car and get out of the area before someone or something happen along to screw up this first peaceful extraction. """Just give me a couple of days, maybe you can go back to the union and find some work. Maybe you can use this to pursue other job opportunities."""

She paused at the steps again, looking around the parking lot to see if anyone new had arrived.

Chuck hustles along with Heather. He sort of nods along with what she says, and doesn't seem to be displaying too much situational awareness. Well, be fair; he was just woken up.

The parking lot doesn't show any big signs of new arrivals except one harried-looking woman, perhaps in her late twenties, with what looks like a heavy basket full of disposable clothing. In the long run, it's more expensive than regular clothing that you then launder, but saves time. The algorithms that price this sort of thing have fine-tuned exactly how much exhausted low earners will spend to save the effort of shoving things into laundry devices. One more way to siphon off that extra nuyen.

---OOC: give me a check for scanning the area---

Heather's keen ears pick up a familiar buzzing - faint, but this isn't rush hour and there aren't trains passing by.

She glances up a little, past the brim of her hat, and sees a flying drone approaching. It's a surveillance type, and as it draws nearer she hears the sound disappear. It was hustling over here, but has now gone into loitering mode, practically inaudible. It's not easy to see any markings on it. Maybe it's just news media.

Connor pays his tab and heads to the back. He finds the men's room empty. Good. Into a stall just to be safe. He considers for a moment the look shown on the trideo. Same hair, eyes, and clothes he has on under the armored coat. Must have used footage from work this morning. He removes the coat so it won't be affected by the Makeover.

OK. Different hair color is easy, make it a dusty blond. Eyes will have to stay the same, but the clothes can be done as well, make them outdoors casual. Might as well clean the pie and coffee out of his teeth. He concentrates.



Coat comes on after it all. People out in the restaurant may notice some difference. Connor connects with the spirit and asks for a disturbance away from the bathroom and the front door to attract the attention of all present. He waits, and once the fun starts, he heads outside. Time to wait for the stranger, looking like "Mr. Smith". He hums an old tune "Underneath the lamplight ..."

When Connor shows up, a frustrated server is trying to change the trid channel away from a raucously ultraviolent show of some sort. Connor doesn't stick around long enough to pick out the details, but does see a leggy elven chick's skirt flip up when she fires off incredibly flashy magic.

If only it really worked that way. But what the hell, it's a distraction.

Leaving the diner seemed like a good idea. But standing outside doesn't. Too many long-range eyes... or astral senses. Connor looks around to see what other establishments nearby could afford a safer place to wait for the stranger.

It depends upon what suits his taste. There are a few options.

Across the street, he can see a nanotat place, a cybersurgery, a barber and a bar. The bar is closed, but the others are open. The barber mostly seems to serve the opposite sex, but there are chairs, so if he can fake waiting for some lady who's in there getting her fibres rearranged, he might sit tight for an hour with no questions asked.

This side of the street has a machine shop that seems to mostly serve the maritime industries, a hotel that almost certainly rents rooms by the half hour, a drone repair shop and a security system installer. He could go windowshopping for a while, and not raise any eyebrows.

Connor checks out the front of the drone repair shop. It might be a place Carlos can use. After some rubbernecking there, he messages the stranger that he will be in front of the cybersurgery. He wanders by the nanotat shop and then to the cybersurgery.

+++I wonder if this kind of thing could be enhanced with a bit of magic. Lemme see what I can learn from the displays.+++

Nanotats are not an easy thing to address with magic. It might be possible. Connor would have to look into the materials science behind it...

On a more prosaic note, the open air fills Connor's nostrils with the smell of Puget Sound, and the industries around it. A blend of decaying seaweed, heavy oil and ozone, combined with the rumble of traffic and the distance horn of a ship.

A drone, in this area, what a coinkydink. Drones were both a wonderful thing and a pain in the ass in her line of work. She did not believe in coincidence, so it would be a safe bet to exercise her paranoia and suspect that the Corp sent something to scout Chuck. What to do about the drone that'll probably follow them where they may go and send illicit details back to their operator?

She stopped to turn away from where the drone watched them slipping her hands through her coat to draw the Colt. She indicated to Chuck to halt while she quickly screwed on the silencer, changed magazines. She made it look like she was telling himself something. "Just hold still for a second." When she turns back again, she aims the pistol at the drone dropping the SmartLink's red dot right on it before pulling the trigger quickly to put the thing out of commission.

If she did it right, she'd hurry a little faster to ride to get out of there before someone followed up. If the little bugger survived, she finishes it off with a few more shots. "Okay, lets go now."

Chuck, still half-asleep, doesn't seem to really notice what she's doing. He's too busy getting into the ride, so by the time she gets into position to sling lead, he's out of sight of her silenced bang-bang anyway.

The lead goes up, and while it's probably not moving much faster than a stooping falcon by the time it hits, it still has the sectional density to penetrate the miraculously light skin of a surveillance drone and wreck things inside. She sees the drone's shape fold, and bits fly off, and then it tumbles from the sky to plough into ... the roof of a Stuffer Shack. Well, it won't be surveilling much from there.

In the mean time, her 'link blips with a message from Carlos, that she can peruse at her leisure. When she gets to it, it reads:

<<<Ready to roll. We're on the news, it's manhunt time. You got a rendezvous we can hit, or do we just hunker down and wait?>>>

On another axis, Cindy's online account is inviting Heather to a memorial site that was automatically created - MatrixWake - where she can gather with all Cindy's greatest friends and mourn and remember her, for a nominal fee.

"""Are you fragging kidding me?""" heather exclaims out loud at the news of the search. She flips over to the locale news, searching for any more information. Next, she programs for the next destination as she listens to the newsreel about four desperate felons kidnapping a poor innocent. """Ah screw that news, you rice grinding polecats.""" She texts back a quick message:

<<<Oh my way, lay low till I get there.>>> She gives a brief description of the vehicle. Once that is done, she punches the dash. Mitsuhama really must like to have a complete set of employees if they were willing to go low and ruin their reputation like that. That's what was going to happen to; all the legit contacts would dry up and leave them with no one to go but the underground.

"""Sorry Chuck, looks like Mitsuhama wants to play dirty on this gig."""

Chuck takes a little while to get up to speed, but when his brain assimilates the information, Heather discovers that she has opened the floodgates. Chuck rants about capitalists, and global exploitation, and the rights of the people, and union busting. He lays out a semi-literate analysis (Heather's pretty sure he doesn't understand some of the words he's using) that reaches from South Tacoma towards the central area, and could probably have continued all the way to Seattle. It reminds Heather of nothing so much as getting the platoon marxist started about the proletariat's subversion by elitist ideologies - about as coherent, and just as long-winded.

The good news is that Heather pulls up in the target zone without other interruptions, given the relatively light traffic at this time of day. Carlos slips out from an alcove in the side of a building, and walks quickly over to her vehicle. He had a bandana over his face, and a hood up against the drizzle, but exposed his face enough that she could make a positive ID based on her images of him before attempting to get into the vehicle. He has a messenger bag slung across his body, and looks like a hundred other guys jandering around Tacoma on any given day.

The smells from the nearby Sound get Connor thinking about the work he was doing at Biozu. The cleanup of a body of water like the Sound would be a phenomenal boon to the local environment, but a monumental task. In principle the biological modifications done at Biozu could be applied on a much larger scale. It would take a lot of money, expertise and personnel. Like what a corporation like Mitsuhama can command.

Hmmmph. Where would be the profit? Would government be willing to pay enough to convince a corp to do the work? Not likely, unless the will existed to bring the populace around.

How might that be effected? There's something to ponder.

Hather confirms it is Carlos she is picking up and not some bounty hunter or Mitsuhama collector getting into the car with them. """Howdy, welcome aboard.""" She checks the surroundings before pulling off to go make the next pick up. """Any comlinks tied too your identity might as well switch 'em off. Where is the other guy that was with you?""" She already knows the answer, seeing as they're going to get him now, but its part of the testing phase to make sure she's getting the assets she was tasked to get. Plus, gauge his mood. Chuck was rightly pissed off about the situation after his little tangent on the driver over. """You two might know each other. Say hi and lay low. You probably know about the bounty put on your head concerning the dire kidnapping you were apparently part of rescently."""

Chuck apparently does recognise Carlos. Not a surprise, really, that a couple of slots on the technical end would know each other. They exchange nods, while Carlos answers Heather:

"""Heya. I already did the security stuff. If you mean Connor, he shouldn't be far. We just split up to take care of biz. Oh, and speaking of the news, I saw it, and I knew Connor but I didn't know that other lady, what's-her-face. Do you know anything about her?"""

While Carlos gets in and shuts the door, Heather can see a short figure with a bag of some kind standing casually looking at the display of some kind of surgical office, a couple of blocks down. The placement's correct, anyway.

A vehicle approaching makes Connor nervous. +++The unknown, or Mitsuhama, or neither?+++ The question reminds Connor that he looks different now, and even Carlos may not twig right away that it is he.

Connor sends a quick description of his new appearance to the unknown caller. What the hell. The Powerball spell is nearby.

heather texts back that she is indeed the ride he's looking for and advice to act normal, like its a carpool of friends going out for a good ride. Not a carpool of wanted criminals being hunted by a p.o.'d mega. As Conner gets in, she answers Carlos question, """ I know she's going to be a pain in the ass to acquire. If I miss my guess she might be trying to go it alone, so either she's well connected on the street or she's being kinda' dumb.""" Seeing as there shouldn't be any secrets she goes into the details about Cindy to see if anyone has a better grip on the freaky, elusive, target.

Chuck gives a short, slightly leering chuckle. """Yeah, a chummer hooked up with her one time. Says it was the freakiest ride in the park, but wouldn't say more. Didn't hook up with her again, neither."""

He scratches an armpit and thinks, then adds: """Uh, wait, he did say not to drink the soykaf. Not sure what he meant by that. Drugs? I dunno."""

Carlos reaches into his bag and pulls out a cheap, nasty little 'link that's still in its wrapper. Obviously, a burner. He yanks off the wrapper, and boots the thing up. """Checking for more reports. I know people who could guess why Big Hama's going this far."""

Connor thinks a moment about what Chuck said. +++Yeah, there's a lot about that woman that hides behind her attitude. I tried to get past the shell, but failed. There's a saying about what it's like with a ... crazy woman. And she knows a thing or two about chemistry, so ... yeah about the soykaf. I'd like to see Cindy with the dial turned down below 11. A force to recon with, I think. +++

In the spirit of his new vulnerable situation, Connor takes a moment to open up to the astral to take a look at the stranger's aura. Maybe lying through her teeth?

Heather deposits her carload of testosterone at a location that she describes as a safehouse. Externally, it looks like an older, run-down, lower-edge-of-middle-class building. It's semi-detached, which is to say that it shares walls with units on either side. The most interesting part, in privacy terms, is that she drove into an old garage before letting anybody out of the vehicle.

A quick tour of the place made clear the major amenities, and deficits. There is no matrix link in here. If you want one, step outside or at least feed an aerial outside because there's an EM block layer. It's three bed, two bath, of dimensions cramped enough that it's a good thing nobody here's an ork. The electricity works, and the water is potable. The kitchen works, and the fridge and cupboards are stocked with enough food to hold out for many weeks, if not months. Hope you like soy.

Heather points out that the linen closets are stocked and there's a basement that includes the laundry machines and a small, thinly equipped workshop that's good enough to maintain guns and do minor carpentry or electronics. Then she says she has to go, but before leaving suggests that you all make yourselves comfortable, and that Connor might see what he can figure out.

Oh, and there is a home node, stocked with a ridiculously huge selection of games and other entertainments - but absolutely no external contact capability whatsoever. Chuck eyes it with barely-concealed lust, although the chance to doss down for a while wins for now.

Connor examines the lodgings. He's lived in worse ... well, when slumming, anyway. """I have to get some sleep, or I will be a basket case.""" He wonders whether the reference is lost on present company.

"""But first I'll summon a small spirit to overwatch the building in case we are found out. And to wake me just before sunset."""



"""Well, the day is wearing on and I'm wearing out. I'll ask the hearth spirit to warn me if anyone other than us present tries to enter the building. I'll have to use my personal assistant to wake me at sunset. G'night.""" After directing the spirit, he heads to a bed and crashes.

Connor sleeps like a baby. An oversized, muscular baby with a glandular problem.

When he wakes up, he discovers a few things. The first is that Chuck and Carlos are settled down with the available games, and apparently playing some sort of racing game. Whether it's cooperative or competitive is anybody's guess.

The second is that Heather has returned, with a comatose but apparently living Cindy, who is now plugged into the autodoc unit which is running some or other diagnostic or other thing. Heather is muttering creatively about games played by kids, and she doesn't seem to be referring to Connor or Carlos.

Well, there's water for the shower, there's cheap bulk food in the cupboards, and there's a laundry facility in the basement. Not bad for a basic safehouse.

Connor enters the room where the others are. A quick scan shows the unknown saviour is the only one not ... occupied in some way or other. Just as well. He has questions. He addresses Heather, who is an unknown to him in more ways than one.

""" So, thanks for the digs and the rescue. I have to ask, though, who are you and why are you helping us?"""

Heather walks over to the sink to wash her hands. """I'm an independent security consultant. I was contracted to help by a third party. What their reasoning is, wasn't in the briefing packet but I guess they don't want Mitsuhama having it all their own way? I mean, I have no way of knowing but usually when it's something like this, it's someone in competition trying to keep key personnel out of each other's hands, or otherwise upset their applecarts. Of course, Sleeping Beauty here might have been a bigger ball of trouble in Mitsuhama's hands.""" Heather nods her head at the autodoc where Cindy lies attached. Lights blink and monitors display various vital statistics.

Cindy is pretty much how Connor remembers her, except for the unconsciousness part. Rail-thin, pale as a cloud and dressed for success in a club somewhere; the corporate ladder, less so.

Heather adds: """I think she tried to pull a Juliet. Lucky for her, I'm no Romeo."""