<<Wednesday Morning - February 8, 2079 - Touristville, Redmond>>

Following Sunday's excitement, SIS HQ has been peaceful. There have been no more shootings or explosions. There haven't even been any intimidating drive-bys, where there Crimson Crush rumble past on a hundred choppers, making the most stupendous noise. They seem to have moved on to other things. SIS doesn't seem to be a pariah in the sense that nobody is actively avoiding you anymore than they already did. Bobby has no trouble relocating the plastic-wrapped package from the U-Store-It to a hollow in a tree somewhere else.

Doc Painless has been sending updates about Mato's progress twice per day, once in the morning and once in the evening. He is slowly improving but hasn't woken up yet. Doc Painless expects that to happen any time now.

It is now Wednesday, February 8, 2029. It is the 50th anniversary of the Crash of '29. Globally, the world is rather more chaotic than usual. Many Matrix gangs have latched onto the day as an unofficial holiday, along with November 2nd as the anniversary of Crash 2.0.

Worldwide, there is a great deal of hacking and general mischief. In Neo-Tokyo, the Bakuto no Bakuta are hacking drones and vehicles, which they are racing up and down the sprawl. In the AGS, the Attic Spiders are terrorizing Frankfurter Bankenverein (FBV) with anti-corporate messaging. In Lagos, the Onyara (a technomancer clan) are having a huge party in Festac Town's giant open air market, where they are giving away commlinks and electronics that they have diverted from insufficiently-protected shipments. In Boston, the Troglobytes (a trog Matrix gang) are vandalizing Matrix sites. Globally, nobody has heard from Chaos Engine - a first-tier Matrix gang that's practically a syndicate - which makes everyone nervous what they're up to. Closer to home, the Reality Hackers are on a crime spree, but since it's down in Puyallup nobody pays much attention. Iktomi is having a blast and is strongly encouraging AM to get in on the action.

In Redmond, things are more silly than sinister. There is some crass ARO graffiti here and there. A mischievous sprite is trying to doctor the SIS Matrix presence with explicit photos of wives catching husbands in flagrante delicto. When AM shoos the sprite away, it tries to take over your soy processing unit to print anatomical parts in 3D soy. Your soykaf machine keeps making soykaf with crude foam drawings. Whatever is doing it must be quite the barista because the soykaf has been better than ever to the point where you're tempted to leave it alone.

Against this backdrop, you have a visitor around 09:02, right at the beginning of your business hours. A man - human, from the looks of things - knocks on the front door. Switching to your security camera, you see a middle-aged man in Actioneer Business Clothes. The business suit would be a bit ho-hum among the corpers of Bellevue, but in Redmond his clothes are decidedly upscale. The man has a briefcase that's either leather or synthleather. A sharp eye will notice that it has been handcuffed to his wrist. On his head he wears a bowler hat that definitely not the fashion in Touristville. The man rings again, constantly checking the street behind him. On the sidewalk, a teenager runs by yelling while being chased by a delivery drone that's apparently been hacked. Evidently eager to be inside, the man on your doorstep knocks once more.

AM:
AM feels especially cheered up by the chaos which seems to be escapism from the stresses of their existence, Jawsey leaving, Mato seriously hurt - stolen explosives and fruitless diplomacy. She allows herself a few harmless pranks like swapping important contact names in unsecured links. "Harmless until a random colleague gets a dick pic" she comments to herself, but truth be told Iktomi has challenged her to speed up her matrix game.

Yet, she is disciplined, and still desperate for money so at the start of their business day she is well dressed in the living room. Enjoying a cap of improved coffee, wondering which of her friends or rivals could have hacked the coffee machine, and admiring the work done on the door. She opens the door without much delay and smiles. "Come in, have a seat, and can I offer you some coffee?", regardless of the man's response she'll have some biscuits on the table to make the man feel comfortable. She notices the briefcase but decides not to mention it at the moment. She assenses the man just to have a rough idea of who she is speaking with, perhaps it would help her get a few more coins out of the client. If he really is a client that is - with his look he could be their new landlord or something.


Trouble:

That same day is one of the most interesting for Trouble, and AM is happy to leave him autonomous, and let the young spirit develop its sense of self. Trouble plays outside with a rubber mouse, and he is very curious as to the drone chasing the man, and the other sense of chaos. On a few occasions, he practices his accident power subtly to not get into trouble but to increase his entertainment of a situation. When he sees the man as he approaches SIS, gives him a quick glance to decide if he is a threat, and then he would likely return to acting as a cat.

Bobby's hair resembled a swallows nest in the morning. He had noticed that his sleep pattern had changed since he now could meditate instead. Now when he went to sleep, he found himself emulating the last animal he had turned into. And coyotes apparently didn't like to wake up early after hunting at night.

So it came to pass, that Bobby arrived late to greet their potential customer, face still wet and hair slicked back. At least he had found a clean shirt and cleanish jeans.

"Good morning, what can we do you for?"

Jawsey had been packing after AM had headed out of their shared rooms. Not that he had a lot to pack, but he'd been putting it off. Going home he wanted to do, but leaving SIS was not.

The message that they had a visitor was a welcome distraction. He pulled a sweater over the old t-shirt he'd been wearing up until then, pulled good slacks out of his bag and changed into them, then headed downstairs. One more client wouldn't hurt. He wasn't using it as a way to procrastinate, really.

"Ah, thank you," the man says when AM opens the door and welcomes him inside. He quickly removes his hat as he crosses the threshold and tucks it under his arm. Up close, AM can see that he looks like an Aztlaner.

She shows him to the conference room where the biscuits wait.

"No, thank you," he says in response to the offer of coffee. His English is fluent but he does have an Aztlaner accent. "I had a wonderful little cup this morning right before I left the house. Shade-grown arabica beans from Chiapas. I was fortunate enough to tour the region and to purchase the beans in person directly from the farm."

It's unclear if he's bragging or simply sharing a story that he considers interesting.

On the astral, AM can tell that the man is in good health, although perhaps with a bit of a paunch that suggests a sedentary lifestyle. He has some high-end bioware in his head that is hard to detect. Based on its location, AM would suspect cerebral boosters and a mnemonic enhancer. He also has a sleep regulator, which AM recognizes because Mato has one. He has some other bioware throughout his body; pathogenic defenses, toxin extractors, and tracheal filters are popular among corpers, especially the hypochondriacs.

The man bows but does not take a seat. "My name is Juan Aguilar Noble, Esq. representing the law firm Peña Gama y Asociados. I wish to speak to Miguel Ángel Torres. Would that be either of you?" He looks to Bobby and Jawsey.

After a long moment, and a few exchanged glances, you remember that this is Mato's SINner name.

"May I inquire as to the nature of your interest in Mr. Torres?"

Jawsey has a vague feeling that sometimes lawyers serve certain papers in person, and doesn't want to say anything about Mato's whereabouts.

"Well the specifics of my communication are confidential until Señor Torres authorizes me to share them with others. But I assure you that it is good news! If it were not, I would have brought security with me, haha."

He laughs lightly but on the astral you can tell he's not really joking. That said, he's also being truthful. He feels certain that his news will be received positively.

Bobby's eyes bored into the lawyer lackey.
"We are his business associates, but Ma... Mr. Torres is currently indisposed after an accident. You can leave a message for him, but he is not in a condition to receive you."

AM is impressed about the arabica story, whereas they only have soycaff. She smiles and nods, and then
She sips the coffee and enjoys the show carefully assessing the situation, and letting the men do the talking.

She makes a note about Juan Aguilar Noble, Esq, and then a quick matrix search about his law firm Peña Gama y Asociados trying to verify what the man says.

AM's search reveals a robust Matrix presence for Peña Gama y Asociados. They are based in Aztlan but have offices throughout the UCAS and California Free State. The omission of the CAS and PCC are notable but perhaps not surprising given the chilly relationship (i.e. outright hostility) between those nations and Aztlan. The law firm appears to be independent and not affiliated with any corp or megacorp - at least as much as any Aztlan-based firm can be independent of Aztechnology - but it will take more digging to confirm if that's actually the case. Sr. Noble is connected to the Seattle office, which is located in downtown Seattle a kilometer or two from the Aztechnology Pyramid. His professional specialty is listed as Wills, Trusts, and Estates.

"An accident? ¡Ay, qué lastima!" Sr. Noble raises his (non-hancuffed) hand to his heart. "How very dreadful!"

He lowers his hand while his eyes look around. His aura shows a complete lack of surprise, not in the sense that he knew about Mato's accident but rather that it's entirely expected that such a fate could befall someone in this environment.

Sr. Noble hesitates for a moment before deciding to press forth. "Well, in that case, my presence here is very timely indeed. If Sr. Torres has incurred medical expenses related to his accident then I may be in a position to help. Is he on the premises or is he recovering elsewhere?"

"He is at a private care facility - though you will have to tell us more about this. He currently is unconscious and we are the closest he has for the purpose of next of kin.
We could tell you where to find him, but it wouldn't do you much good beside getting yelled at by the doctor.

So if you can't tell us what this is about, your only other option is to leave a message for him and he'll get back to you when he can."

Bobby had disliked the layer guy since about the second he had opened his mouth. This was either a scam or - maybe worse - a real lawyer.

Sr. Noble looks troubled. "Yes, incapacitation complicates things. But without a signed and executed Power of Attorney I'm afraid that I'm not at liberty to divulge [blah blah blah]..." He continues on in legalese for several more sentences.

Bobby's sense is that Sr. Noble is playing things straight. He doesn't want to be here in Touristville but duty calls. But that's probably why the briefcase is handcuffed to his wrist and why he's wearing a mid-range suit that only a junior associate would wear in Seattle: he must feel these are reasonable precautions for Redmond.

Then, right on cue, a message from Doc Painless: <<He's up.>>

AM naturally distrusts lawyers, or more generally "the Man" but as the person is truthful as much as she can say, she does not share her emotions when he starts speaking all legal to them. This man is part of Mato's world. she reminds herself.

In that case, perhaps I can deliver a message to Sr. Torres once he gets better? Is there anything more aside from your name and law firm that I should tell him? Perhaps enough to remind sr. Torres about your mutual business? she says assuming he'll take her for a secretary or something of that like, and perhaps they'll get a hint as to what it is about.

On cue when the doctor notifies them that Mato is up, she sends Trouble to visit him, and if Mato is well enough ask him of that matter. Just because Mato up does not mean that he is well enough to speak to a lawyer -- or to speak very much or listen at all. So she'll wait a few moments until Trouble is physically there and hope to keep the person in SIS until then.

>>> Trouble is on route to Mato, and if he is well enough, we'll know what it is about and Mato can decide. Else let's take a message for Mato to respond to at his earliest convenience. she texts the team.


Trouble moves at the speed of thought to Mato, he does not need a formal order -- he wants to see if his friend has gotten better. When he gets to the hospital he'll manifest first right on Mato's lap to be discreet and not to mess with sterility requirements.

"Oh, Sr. Torres does not know me, nor I him. I have some news to share with him, good news indeed. But I'm afraid that will be the extent of what I can share without his permission. It would be to his advantage to meet as soon as possible, especially if his current financial situation is constrained. Would it be possible to direct me toward his private care facility so that I do not interrupt your, ah, business any further?"

~~~

Trouble zips over to the clinic. The spirit finds Mato in a hazy state, as one might expect after being in a medically-induced coma for three days. He seems to be examining his left hand closely, turning it over and back again as he studies it. The limb functions, so perhaps he is inspecting the aesthetic damage sustained during the blast. Or maybe he is curious why there used to be a small-caliber SMG port in the palm of his hand, which has now been replaced with the port for a heavy pistol.

Doc Painless is in the room, examining Mato's monitors. She looks pleased and is chattering away about his progress in medical language that's impossible to follow. Her back is to him when Trouble materializes on Mato's lap.

Mato looks surprised for a moment, but then pets Trouble. Mato seems to find it comforting and relaxing. How Trouble feels about a titanium-and-carbon-fiber hand is up to the spirit.

Doc Painless turns around, sees Trouble and freaks out. "WHAT!" she exclaims, racing forward. She seizes Trouble and launches the spirit off Mato's lap. Trouble, nonplussed, demateralizes in midair.

Doc Painless stares at the thin air for a long moment. "Aisa, Aisa, I have to lay off the Aisa," Doc Painless repeats to herself. She rubs the bridge of her nose, looks again to see if Trouble is still there, then wanders off shaking her head.

Bobby nodded. "Give us a moment and we'll make some inquiries."

Bobby replied to the Street Doc: <<How is he? We have a lawyer here that wants to talk to him. He is conscious enough to deal with that? The guy says he brings good news - just in case Mato wants to know.>>

Doc Painless turns and asks Mato, who nods. The she comms Bobby back.

<<He would welcome visitors. Some familiar faces might help ground him in reality. He's still doped up and in a bit of a fog so be patient with him. He also has some new cyberears that haven't been calibrated don't shout at him. Or, actually, do shout at him if he accidentally trips the dampeners. His commlink survived somehow so you can send each other text messages if talking doesn't work. You know how to read, right? Nevermind, you can use text-to-speech if you can't.>>

Trouble thinks "what have I done to her?", he manifests to Mato and asks "How are you big guy?".

"I just spoke to his doctor. He has been woken up, but he is not necessarily fully lucid. Would you be alright with a video conference, or do you have to verify his identity?"

Bobby asked, while already composing a message to Mato

<<Hey, good to hear you are up. There's a lawyer here that wants to give you a bunch of money. But he won't talk to us about specifics. Do you want to meet him or should we ask him to come back tomorrow?>>

"There is a SIN check, yes," Sr. Noble confirms. "It is quick and routine, usually requiring only a second or two.

"Perhaps slightly more, depending on the quality of the, ah, local connection." He smiles weakly.

~~~~~

I'm hurting, Mato tells Trouble, figuring the spirit will be able to tell anyway. Doc is pumping me full of painkillers but my nephritic screen just burns them up.

He gets the comm from Bobby and slowly taps out a response.

<<A lawyer? I don't have a lawyer. Is he legit? Tell me he's not a personal injury ambulance-chaser.>>

There's a delay between messages as Mato struggles to type.

<<I need to think about something else, get my mind off things. Send AM down. I could use a makeover.>>

<<Or does anyone have that spell that makes it feel like an opium den?>>

"Quite ironic that being immune to poison has a shortcoming. I am glad you are alive though, it was a close call. He materializes in Mato's lap figuring it is the very least he can do to ease his pain.

Jawsey knows that he isn't the most threatening figure around, and that he isn't skilled at being intimidating. So makes sure to lean back in a relaxed posture, and tries hard to explain, rather than threaten, as he says "I don't know if in your line of work you are familiar with the term 'Barrens Contract.' Really it just means that where people don't have the means to hire a lawyer nor do they have access to helpful legal services to enforce a written contract, they operate on old fashion verbal promises. No biometrics required. Your word that you bring good news for our colleague will be your Barrens Contract with us, should we take you to see him. If there are any bits of shade hanging around the edges of that good news, you should perhaps add clarifications now. Clear clarifications, after all we are magicians, not lawyers, we are more interested in what your aura says than the fine nuance of wording."

'

The man considers this thoughtfully. After a moment, he nods, seeming agreeable to the idea.

"A Barrens contact. Yes, of course. I accept. I can think of no meaningful qualifications, nor 'shade', to my declarations.

"Do we spit on our hands and shake?" He may or may not have gotten this notion from a popular trid series, Deadfire, a few years back.

"Your word should be enough" Bobby growled, but tried to stay civil. He wouldn't be mad at a snake for being a snake. Though a snake didn't have a lot of say in the matter of being a snake. A snake that went to school to learn how to use and abuse words would be a whole different animal...


To Mato he sent:

<<Looks too neat to be an ambulance chaser. My guess, someone died and left you money. And those lawyers aren't getting their cut until they gave you yours. I'll take him the long way round, so AM can get to you first.>>

<<AM, please take care of Mato. Jawsey and I can keep him occupied for another five minutes.>>


"Before this goes any further, we have to conduct a SIN check of our own on you. The circumstances of our colleagues accident were a bit suspect, so we are at the moment at a heightened level of security. It will only take a minute or so. If your credentials check out I'll take you to him."

The man doesn't seem to think much of it.

"Yes, of course. Due diligence is always prudent."

His SIN either checks out or is a good fake.

Bobby waited for AM to leave the room and listened for the car starting, while staring at his commlink as if he had found some very interesting details in the SIN Profile.

"This seems to be in order. Do you have a car? Better leave it here. The private clinic isn't far from here, so if you don't mind I'll accompany you to it by foot."

"Yes, of course. That would be very wise. I would be grateful for the escort, thank you."

The lawyer does indeed look like he appreciates the offer.

~~~

It's no trouble for AM to get to the clinic a few minutes ahead of the group. It's a Wednesday so the clinic is open. It just opened not long before, so the waiting room is already a thick collection of neighborhood residents who need attention. There are sick children, workplace injuries, and the telltale signs of domestic violence. The background count is thick and unpleasant, but every once in a while there is the sweet scent of hope. Things may be bad, yes, but they would be worse without this place. The fact that the clinic is available to provide any care in the first place - even if it is drug-addled advice with third-tier medications - is significantly better than nothing at all.

There's no orderly or assistant. The doc manages things on her own, with an informal system of priority that's some blend of who was there first, triage, and how much the doc likes you. A large, male troll is in the doc's face about a knife sticking out of his shoulder, but the doc tells him he's fine and to sit back down and wait his turn. (In fairness, he does have a knife sticking out of him, and it looks like it hurts, but it's so tiny compared to the rest of his mass that it might as well be a small nail sticking out of a smaller metahuman.) The troll looks annoyed but then complies, sitting on a heavily-reinforced stool that's much too small for him.

The doc sees AM - who is clearly not injured or ill - and jerks her thumb over her shoulder in Mato's direction. AM walks toward Mato's room, which is practically a private suite compared to the rest of the clinic. He'll pay handsomely for it, but that will help keep the rest of the clinic running.

In the room, Mato is reclined on his bed. His hair - what's left of it after the rest got burnt - is sticky and matted to his head. His skin is sweaty; evidently the doc doesn't have an assistant to sponge him off. His gown is clean-ish and was probably changed at some point. Thankfully, Mato doesn't smell as bad as might be feared. Due to his cyber, he doesn't have all the apocrine glands of a normal person, and so his body odor is greatly reduced.

Hey, he signs to her a bit weakly. He points to his head. New ears. Still getting used to them.

AM lets him know that the lawyer is coming and offers to clean him up. He nods, looking grateful. A few moments later, Mato looks refreshed. He may not be feeling refreshed, but he looks much better.

[Bobby and Jawsey post next]

Bobby led the man out into Touristville, sticking to the broader streets and avoiding the more dangerous parts of the neighborhood - which incidentally also was the longer route to the clinic, so that was fine.

Bobby would have been perfectly fine to walk in silence, but felt the nervous energy of the man beside him. Sighing inwardly he said:
"Yeah, the hood here is a bit rough, but nothing to worry at this time of day. Most of the more dangerous residents aren't awake yet - or until noon for that matter. This is the prefered time of day for everyone with legal business - no pun intended - to go about it.

Careful... a yes sorry about that. Just wait for it to dry. Should be no problem then to scratch it of your shoe with a stick. Lot's of wild dogs and coyotes around here. The population is somewhat held in balance by the devil rats. They like to form hunting groups. The main reason why people here only let their young kids play on first floor and higher. Though that's no guarantee either.
Could be worse - all in all - only very few actual demon rats around. Those can create a really nasty mob if they suborn a devil rat clan that again controls a bunch of normal rats. When that happens, you better have a bunch of molotov cocktails ready.

Anyway, we are nearly there. Just over there across the street."

For some reason, Bobby's smalltalk hadn't managed to reduce the man's nervousness.

"I'll walk over with you as well. Just let me grab my coat and my cane, I can meet you at the door in three minutes."

Jawsey takes four minutes to get back to the door, although he perhaps makes up for it by summoning a spirit to travel with them -- he shows it to the lawyer but then asks it to follow them on the astral. The lawyer can know that they take his security seriously, but they don't need to make that much of a spectacle out of it to everyone else.

Although, speaking of spectacle, Jawsey leans on his cane perhaps a bit more than strictly necessary, and walks perhaps a bit slower than he usually would. Mato might be bored by the time they get there, but he'd rather risk that than arriving before their friend has pulled himself together.

Sr. Noble places his hat upon his head and bravely (or not-so-bravely) steps out into Touristville. Bobby can feel Sr. Noble unconsciously (or consciously, who knows) leaning into him for protection.

Outside, there's still nuttiness from all the hacking and Matrix tomfoolery. Traffic lights and street lights flash unpredictably. Cars are uncertain who should go, leading to long exchanges of honking. Invariably two cars will go at the same time and then often collide. Sr. Noble practically jumps out of his shoes at one such CRUNCH of metal-on-metal. The drivers, two orks, bellow at each other, then get out and start a fistfight. It looks a lot like a hockey brawl, with each one grabbing the other's collar and then landing looping punches to the other's face. It goes on like this for a long while until one of them has the idea to try an uppercut, which finally knocks the other guy out. The the ork left standing gets into his car, reverses, and drives off. The damage done to their faces far exceeds what the minor collision did to their bumpers.

Sr. Noble clutches his briefcase tightly. Jawsey begins to wonder if he'll cradle it to his chest at some point, either to protect the briefcase from ne'er-do-wells or to protect Sr. Noble's vital organs from any assault from the front. The man's consternation grows with each passing block, his aura clearly reflecting his accelerating anxiety.

Bobby and Jawsey get some strange looks from the locals. "Taking your sarariman out for a walk, neh?" a street vendor asks cheekily. Undoubtedly the wagging tongues will whisper about this, but who knows to what end.

Finally they arrive at the clinic. Walking through the lobby, Sr. Noble practically shrinks into a ball. The intense concentration of so much metahumanity is almost more than he can tolerate. By the time the trio join AM, Sr. Noble looks worse than recently-refreshed Mato.

Sr. Noble initially looks relieved to be in the quiet space of the private room. But then his eyes fall on Mato. "¡Dios mío!" he exclaims. He makes the sign of the cross and looks like he's about to fall to his knees. "What happened to him??"

Bobby, Jawsey, and AM look at Mato, who actually looks better than he has in weeks. Then they look back at Sr. Noble, who is visibly trembling. On the astral, his consternation is off the charts. Then another glance back at Mato, who is staring curiously at the quivering man.

Belatedly, you realize that Sr. Noble has not met Mato before and does not know that the four cyberlimbs were a pre-existing condition. He must believe that Mato's amputations were the result of the aforementioned accident, the inevitable fate of anyone who lingers in Redmond for too long.

Bobby decided not to delve into too much backstory and left it at: "Someone send us a claymore and Mr. Torres was unfortunate enough to check the mail that day."
He shrugged: "Lucky for him, we have some strong healing mojo among us.
I hope you understand now, why we were reluctant to bring you here."

Bobby focused on the man, ready to turn him into a tortoise at the first provocation.

Jawsey didn't say anything, being preoccupied with suddenly seeing their life with double eyes, and wondering once he leaves, if he ever comes back, how it will seem to him.

Sr. Torres sweats palpably. If Mato realizes the source of Sr. Noble's discomfort, he doesn't go out of this way to dispel it.

"Well, Mr. Torres," he says, stepping forward. Belatedly, he realizes his hat is still on, so he removes it. "My name is Juan Aguilar Noble, Esq. representing the law firm Peña Gama y Asociados." He bows, a little more uncomfortably than at HQ.

"May I confirm that you are Miguel Ángel Torres?" Mato nods. "I apologize, but a routine SIN check is required for my purposes here."

Mato wordlessly picks up his commlink and makes sure he is transmitting his National SIN. Sr. Noble confirms it and then presses forward toward his purpose.

"Mr. Torres, my client is, uh, the donor of your paternal chromosome." Oh, drek, is this how lawyers say 'father'? Sr. Noble waits awkwardly for a response but Mato doesn't react.

"Were you, ah, aware of your genetic history?" the lawyer asks, doing his best to be diplomatic. Sr. Noble fidgets, aware that he could be revealing Mato's mother's infidelity, which is a decidedly delicate task.

Mato nods once. Sr. Noble exhales in response and then continues on.

"Until recently, my client was not aware of your, ah, existence, for which he apologizes. He is embarrassed and ashamed of his absence. While he wishes to initiate a relationship, he cannot do so at the moment for various personal and professional reasons. He hopes to do so in the near future."

Mato just watches the man unblinkingly. Is he buzzed on painkillers? Is he tracking this?

Sr. Noble laughs nervously. "My client is, ah, a man of some means and he wishes to ensure that you were not unduly exposed to a life of deprivation. To that end, he has establish an inter vivos trust for your benefit."

The lawyer pulls up his briefcase, adjusts a small mechanical lock, and opens it, producing some old-fashioned paperwork.

"It will provide a monthly living stipend that should ensure a certain level of, ah, comfort and stability. It is also, ah, retroactive. I am here today to today to present you with a substantial sum, should you consent."

He holds out some papers to Mato, who accepts them. Sr. Noble closes the briefcase, locks it, and returns it to his side.

"As the beneficiary of a living trust, you have certain rights and responsibilities, which are outlined in these documents. I encourage you to review them closely. The responsibilities are very modest. For example, you must maintain your SIN in good standing. Should you lose your SIN, or have it converted into a, ah, criminal SIN, the benefits of the trust may be suspended."

Sr. Noble smiles nervously. The grey nature of SIS, combined with Mato's current incapacitation, is not lost on him.

"I will be your trustee. Here is my information. I will be in regular contact, at least monthly. I can also conduct routine legal work for your benefit, primarily related to business or administrative law, or refer you to an appropriate resource within Peña Gama y Asociados. Do you have any questions, Mr. Torres?"

Mato looks over the papers, flipping through them gently with his carbon-fiber-and-titanium fingers. There are no sounds in the room except the shuffling papers, the occasional beep of one of the medical monitors, and Sr. Noble's labored breathing.

After a minute of contemplation, Mato finally says, "Wiz."

Bobby frowned. His father hadn't been absent in his life - it was the other way around. Bobby had jumped at the opportunity to get away from the domineering tyrant.
Seeing Mato getting an offer like that made Bobby immediately suspicious. He wanted to call out, that this had to be a trap, just another way a father might try to buy and bind a son's will. But he kept his tongue in check just in time. He had learned the hard way that not everyone had the same experience as he himself. Actually very few people, basically nobody shared his experience.
The whole thing left him feeling conflicted and all he managed to croak out was: "Congrats Mato"

Jawsey is fairly glad that nobody other than Trouble is likely to be noticing his aura, because surprise sends his emotions spinning. Happiness for Mato, concern for Mato, a moment of intense grief for the passing of his own father and then sorrow for all that he'd taken from his father without realizing what it had cost to give, then deep concern for whether Mato will now also leave SIS and whether two of them leaving would make Bobby and and Ana Maka unable to carry on the business.

He tries to asense Mato's aura, but suspects that between pain and painkillers it will be hard to get a good read on him.

Finally he gathers himself to speak "Mato, I'm so glad that you are recovering and out of your coma. All the more so, for you to be present for this news. A potential life-changer." With Juan Aguilar Noble, Esq. still present, and Mato still far from either being recovered or ready to have digested the news, he doesn't ask what changes Mato might choose to make.

Mato would like to say that he is pleased that everyone is upright and alive, but he doesn't wish to do so in front of his new trustee. The thought had occurred to Mato - in his brief time awake - that the blast that leveled him could have chewed up one of his softer housemates, but none of them seem worse for wear.

"Un placer conocerte," he tells Sr. Noble. The lawyer brightens visibly at the sound of Spanish.

Mato holds out a hand with his palm raised. Sr. Noble seems to understand the gesture, and produces a fountain pen from his suit pocket. Mato uncaps it and signs his name in an unexpectedly fine script that looks almost like calligraphy.

"Please convey my appreciation," Mato tells Sr. Noble, but rather than sounding obsequious he sounds in control. Perhaps his makeover has given him some confidence. Mato retains some of the papers for further review while presenting the signed copy to the lawyer, who accepts it readily.

"I am not poor, but nor will I decline the gesture out of some false sense of pride. I am a practical person."

Sr. Noble bows in recognition, then slips the signed documents into his briefcase. "I will transmit an electronic copy in all due haste, along with an initial disbursement of funds."

Mato nods. "Please tell my -" He cuts himself off. "Please communicate to your client that I will be willing to meet whenever he is."

Sr. Noble bows again, more deeply this time. He seems relieved by the course of the conversation, perhaps pleased that he'll have some news to share with his client that doesn't involve his son being a quadruple amputee.

Mato looks to the rest of the team. "If you wouldn't mind, please escort Sr. Noble back to his vehicle. I'm afraid I'm in no state to do so myself, and I need a moment to consider things."

"Sure, I'll bring him back. I'll come back with breakfast later." Bobby promises, leaving his colleagues to talk with Mato.
A lot has happened in the last days and bringing Mato up to date will take a while. Bobby wished he could say he was happy for Mato, but somehow he only felt an emptiness inside him. It wasn't that he was envious of Mato's good fortune. For Bobby, money was strictly a measure of how much consumables he was going to be able to cram inside himself within the next 24 hours or so. But... money could change people. So could bombs to the face, he had to admit. But just as with Jawsey it felt as if another member of his pack was about to leave.

Bobby forced himself to stop with those gloomy thoughts. He'd bring Mato some grade A breakfast buritos. That should be enough for the moment to prevent the cyborg from jumping ship just now.

The lawyer is escorted back to his vehicle, a black BMW X89 with a uniformed ork behind the wheel. The ork had stayed with the car to protect it from the day's nuttiness, and generally seems to have succeeded. That said, both the ork and Sr. Noble look relieved at the prospect of getting out of Touristville.

Bobby gets some breakfast burritos made with AlmostEgg and BacoSoy. He picks up a couple with cilantro because he knows Mato likes it. Then some soykaf with creamer. Mato doesn't usually take sweetener but he does on special occasions, and this seems like this qualifies.

The streets are still goofy with wireless shenanigans and the lobby of the clinic is still crazy, although slightly less so as the morning rush subsides. The gang rejoins Mato in his private room, which is an oasis of calm in the middle of the chaos. You find the doc consulting with Mato, despite the long line of patients out front.

"The loss of the reaction enhancers is an opportunity. They weren't high quality. Your body can accept better replacements, plus more besides."

"What about the scarring?" Mato asks, examining the damage to his chest and abdomen.

"The burned skin isn't going anywhere. Many burn victims cover them with tattoos."

Mato nods, seeming to concur. "Grey mana tattoos," he says, seeming to like the thought.

The doc notices your arrival. She stands and excuses herself. Mato's eyes light up when he sees the breakfast burritos and the soykaf. "Oh, yes, please!" he says, accepting them gratefully.

He gobbles them down. Some color returns to his cheeks.

"Five thousand a month," he says once he's done eating. He gestures toward the paperwork he retained. Evidently he's being transparent. "But the catch is that it has to go toward living expenses, food and housing and the like. It's meant to support a certain standard of living, not hookers and Novacoke, I suppose."

Mato is not known for either. The humor seems like a good sign.

"So what's the story at HQ? You're all here so I presume the building is still standing. What exactly happened, other than an explosion? And what's the plan from here? Are we staying, going? I presume you talked about it while I was out."

Bobby used the opportunity to give the lawyer one of the digital business cards they had created for SIS. He didn't like lawyers, but that wouldn't prevent him from taking their money, should the opportunity arise.

When Mato dug into the food he said:

"Easy there. You've been out for a while with only artificial feeding. Unless you got yourself a cyber stomach take your time. When I went out for my fasting month in the wilderness I nearly killed myself with a Happy Meal when I got back."

To the question he answered: "Lots of chaos. I'll tell you in private."

Bobby gestured and touched Mato's forhead with a mind link.

'We still don't have all the details, but we belive it was revenge for us standing up to Carn-Evil. He petitioned to his boss and his boss tabled a meating with the syndicate to teach us a lesson. They subcontracted to the Red Hot Nukes a hit against our premises. That you got hit wasn't actually their intention - just property damage.
Huge, the dwarf I met at the Fun House was the one pressing the button, because he thought you were a homeless guy trying to steal the packet.
We talked to Grinder and Big Stank - neither wanted to confirm who in the committee asked for the hit. We told them that we no longer will work with any of them.
Meanwhile we stole some restitution from Huge's garage - 2kg of C4. I plan to return the favor to Nightmare and destroy his caldron - preferably implicating the Red Hot Nukes. If that isn't viable, we can leave it at blowing up the clown car Carn-Evil and his crew use.

In any case, we should move our sleeping place away from Touristville. For the moment we'll keep our offices there, so we don't lose our customer base.
Oh and Jawsey finally decided he wants to go home and do something for his tribe. He stuck around for you to wake up. So we'll have to look into hiring a new partner for SIS as well.

Welcome back to the drek, my friend.'

"Oh and don't get grey tatts. AM had a hard enough time to safe your live as it was. Get a jacket or some underware with grey weave if you must."

The meeting and lawyer and implications keeps AM quite It as like a fairytale to have parents and a secret father. Then she grasps that it is also a lot to handle, emotionally. Interesting things all around, Iktomi would be happy. "

Mato takes the news... well?

"A lot to process," he admits, although his aura is strangely serene. One might expect more turbulence given the succession of significant news.

Mato looks to Jawsey. "Home, eh?" He nods thoughtfully, seeming to understand. "I did the same back in November. That's when I found out about my... father."

He thinks in silence for a few moments.

"Out of Touristville..." he mumbles to himself.

"Bridle Trails," he says at last. "Bridle like the bit and reins for a horse, not bridal like a wedding bride. It's west/southwest of here, the border between Bellevue and Redmond. Sounds like I can swing something there now." He taps the paperwork. "There's a big park, mostly for horses. But should be nice for the mana and..." He gestures vaguely at Bobby. "Doing what you do.

"But we wouldn't blend in well, not in our current state at least. We'll have to tidy up. But, on the flip side, anyone coming after us won't blend in either. K-E actually responds to calls, usually within a couple minutes." He seems to consider this a novel idea.

"Horses... well, I can always fly to an area where I can get away with what I do" Bobby grinned.
"And the added security will come in handy. Now all we have to do is to figure out how we can help Cutty to stay in business once he starts his hydroponic roof.
For me that means I have to stash some more clothes around the city. Oh, and racist white people - but that's a different problem altogether."

Jawsey stands back and let's Bobby lead things with Mato. It was only right given the circumstances. He does eventually meet Mato's eyes, then nods towards Bobby and AM and says "I won't embarrass these two with details, but they've been non-stop in dealing with the situation. I know sometimes you feel a but different from the rest of us because you use metal, not magic, but know that you are deeply cared for, that there is no more that could have been done for anyone."

Mato thinks about what Jawsey says but it doesn't really seem to affect him. His astral aura remains largely unchanged, with only the barest hint of a response in his core.

"I'm going to be honest, I'm not that sentimental," Mato says matter-of-factly. "I don't get nostalgic. I tend not to get attached to things. How many people voluntarily replace their arms and legs they've had their whole life?"

He looks at his left hand, which is the one where his cyber submachine gun was replaced.

"The doc replaced the SMG with a semi-automatic. This is annoying because I don't know how to use a pistol that well. But that's a practical consideration, not a sentimental one. I don't care about the SMG, even if it's what I used to blast the rifle out of Katya's hands at Pike Hall. It served its purpose.

"I look forward, not backward. My memories are being sick and weak. When I look to the future, I see health and strength." It's clear he has his own definition of these.

He seems to study his hands and arms again, as if searching for damage. "Thanks for bringing me here," he says after a moment. "I'm finding it... difficult to be upset about what happened. It's not that I don't care; it's just in the past." His voice is quiet, detached.

He seems to return to the present. "I'm glad you didn't do anything stupid," he tells the team. "It wouldn't have been worth it. An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, and all that. At some point you just have to let it go. What's that the Anglos say, 'turn the other cheek'? And if some thinks you're weak? Frag them: I soaked a bomb blast."

There's a flare of something in his aura that looks remarkably like pride.

"I'm sorry you're going, but I understand," he tells Jawsey. "Before you go, do you have any friends who could help me track down some replacement parts?"

And just like that, he's back to business.

AM comments "We did what we did to stabalize our position, turn the other cheek does not often work with bullies. "

Then she comments "for someone non nostalgic, you sure think a lot of difference between automatic and semi automatic sidearms. But you wanted strength and took sacrefices to get it. It shows a lot of will"

She feels strange to say "I am glad that you are well, and that your biological father takes an interest in you. It... helps" she says uncertain how to describe her complicated relationship with her father and how she interacted with her half brothers in the trix but never in her own identity.

.

Jawsey nods along to Mato's explanation about not being sentimental. "I think you are wise in most of that, foolish in a small part of it. The past is the past, how it was, where it was, what it was, all of that only matters in regard to what is happening now or giving us an idea of what might happen in the future. For me it was attachment to my childhood – a time when I was broken, dependent on others, ignorant of my true gifts, and exiled from my community, but with my Father – that was holding me back from taking my place with my people. You are wise to look to your future, and I hope that a relationship with your Father can play some role in that future.”

“But I said that it also includes a small foolishness, and I think that it does, although this no doubt reflects my world view. Attachments to others should not be tossed away easily. A tribe is stronger than the sum of the strength of its members, SIS is more capable as a whole than as each of us on our own, and in general our social networks make us stronger. So leaving behind old relationships just because they are not part of your present is not wise.”

Then he relaxes and flashes a big smile “In other words, I’m going to be staying in touch, and you’ll just have to deal with me messaging, or maybe even astrally visiting, occasionally.”

"As for contacts who may be able to help, I’m not sure. Obviously I’ve not been chasing implants myself, so I don’t know dealers in that stuff. But I should introduce you all to Comcomlybefore I leave, and maybe I can use the promise of new clients to focus their thoughts on the issue. They are of the Salish-Sidhe, not of the Sioux, but much of their business is helping natives access goods and services in Seattle that can be hard to get without a UCAS or Corporate SIN. I know they’ve arranged admissions to official hospitals, whether they can help obtain ‘ware I can’t be certain, but they’d certainly know more about it than I do.”

Bobby shook his head: "You never present the other cheek. You run or you fight. And no, an eye for an eye leaves exactly one guy with one good eye. Because blind people tend not to hit that well. But doesn't matter now. As you say, the past is the past. Let's get you home and then look for a new place."

"Sure you do," Mato says with a far-away look in his eyes. He's looking at the wall, at nothing in particular, unfocused.

"What better way to break the other person's will to fight than to take their best shot and show that it didn't matter?" It's unclear if this is a rhetorical question. It is clear that Mato was affected but he seems to feel that the sequence ending with his survival somehow bolsters his stature rather than undermines it.

It's also clear that this wasn't necessarily their best shot. Huge, by his own admission, was pulling his punch.

But Mato has only been awake for a few minutes and hasn't had time to fully process everything. Maybe his brain is hazy on painkillers, nephritic screen or not. Perhaps he'll feel differently once he's had some time to think things through.

"So what's next?" he asks. "Are we having a party for Jawsey or are we keeping his departure under wraps so that it doesn't look like running? And what's Urubia going to say?"

"I was planning to throw a bit of a party, to be honest. Blow some money that I should be saving on some real food, invite friends and contacts to say thank you. I don't know how many will show up, but it is what I'd like to try. As for Urubia, well, I'm torn. Just slip away quickly and quietly? Or go for an astral visit to say good-bye and tell her that she's inspired me so much that I've decided to go home to try and improve where I'm from?"

After a moment he muses "Of course, if I show up astrally without an invite, the Crimson Guard might not be high on letting me in, and much though I'd like to take a few of them down a notch, I also don't fancy fighting all of them. Numbers matter an awful lot in astral combat. So the choice might not really be mine. But one thing for certain is that I'm not going in there in the flesh to tell her I'm leaving her sphere of influence."

Its your call Jawsey. Your relationships... she says clearly amazed that Jawsey thinks that Urubia would not know about a party they make for his ferawell or that not being invited to said party after their lengthy chats is polite. "Dragons, mayors, presidents, duchesses... They are all people underneeth. Treating them like people seems more prudent than being afraid of them...