16:20:46 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Auburn, Jonah's building

"Jonah and I never discussed our familes much with each other, I assumed that it was a sensitive area with him." And several painful memories . .

"However in times of trouble perhaps he would have turned to his father for help, do you know how his father can be contacted?"

21:53:18 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo paused, waterglass poised halfway to her lips as she considered the best way to answer. As much as she longed to share her story with someone, anyone, she knew that it would be madness to do so. Even as she all but melted when he smiled, there was enough strength of mind left to keep part of her separate. She took a measured sip of icewater and laughed softly, regaining a bit of her former poise.

"Everything?" She arched an eyebrow while a playful smile teased across soft pink lips. "You do not ask much, do you Byron?"

"Very well, then." Her smile turns conspiratorial as she leans in somewhat closer as if to share a secret. "I am very seriously involved with the Law, I'm .. " a soft chuckle, "a legal secretary, or at least, that's what I put on my résuméé. This is my .." she trails a finger across the face of her platinum watch, "second day in the city and I'm already half in love with it."

"What else would you like to know? And what about you, Byron," his name becomes a soft silken caress, "how did you find your way to Los Angeles?"

?? : ?? : ?? - Saturday, January 6, 2063 - Beneath the Pale Moonlight

She opens her eyes, knowing she’s somewhere different, but unsure where that is. What I want to face least, eh? That’s a no-brainer. Being back in Aztlan, facing…them. I must be in some sort of lab, or Azzie facility, or something like that. Probably going to have to deal with escaping all over again from those twisted fragging bastards. Null sweat. I did it before, I can do it again.

And then she stops to think for a moment, letting the signals her physical senses have been processing and sending to her brain actually register on her conscious thought. Nothing could have derailed her train of thought faster than the simple messages her senses are sending her, leaving her with one overriding thought as she takes in her surroundings, on a conscious level this time: What the FRAG?

Soft, silken sheets cover and caress her body, enveloping her in their smooth embrace. Pale moonlight illuminates the room through the windows and double French doors, which apparently lead out to some sort of balcony. Glancing around the room, Alleycat surmises that it’s some sort of bedroom, probably of a very well to do family, definitely modern, but with a classic throwback appeal to it. Stylish furniture, some of it even real wood apparently judging from its aura, decorates the room, and the four-poster bed is large enough to fit two quite comfortably.

A sudden noise catches her attention, and she turns quickly to see that the bed does, indeed, hold two. Lying next to her, breathing quietly and rhythmically, is a male elf, apparently Caucasian, but it’s hard to tell in the moonlight. And a sudden stab of fear catches her in the chest as she realizes that she knows this elf. How, she has no idea, but she knows beyond a doubt that he’s someone she’s seen, met before, somewhere, sometime, someplace.

Reaching out instinctively to take a pulse, to determine if he’s sleeping, drugged, or simply faking, she feels a strange, unfamiliar weight on her left hand as she extends her fingers towards his throat. The moonlight catches upon the item, and she gasps suddenly at what appears to be a very large, very expensive, and very beautiful diamond ring on her left hand. On the fourth finger of her left hand.

Stirring, the elf props himself up on an elbow, and blinks at her sleepily. “Still awake my love? You always were a light sleeper.” Arching his neck towards her, her reflexes kick in as she automatically lashes out with her right hand, doing her best to keep him away from her. Completely unconcerned, the elf easily catches her wrist and pulls her towards him, smiling.

She instinctively mounts him, and strikes with her left, before she realizes that is exactly what he wants. Deflecting her left arm out wide before circling it into an overhook, he pulls her close and whispers, “Feeling frisky tonight my dear?” She tries to respond, tries to pull away, anything to combat the sudden onslaught of vulnerability, and even worse, of intimacy she feels with this man.

He’s too strong, and apparently used to this, because despite the smoothness and skill he displayed mere seconds ago in deflecting her assault, he pulls her close to him, holding her body close to his, before kissing her tenderly on the lips. They’ve done this before, and recently it seems, because she can still taste herself on his lips, and, she realizes with a start, can taste him on hers.

Suddenly, casually, the elf uses the trapped arm to flip her onto her back in a classic Brazilian Jiu-jitsu sweep, and pins her body to the bed with his own. She’s never felt so vulnerable, so intimate with someone before, and the sudden rush of emotion assaults her every sense. Even her olfactory senses aren’t safe from the sensual assault on her body, as he begins nuzzling her neck, and she can smell his cologne, his scent, as his arousal telegraphs his desire for her. And she can feel her body responding in kind, can feel somewhere in her mind that she’s supposed to want this for some reason.

Murmuring softly into her ear while he kisses her neck, the elf’s words floor her, as he whispers, “I love you Talia , my darling wife.”

?? : ?? : ?? - Saturday, January 6, 2063 - Beneath the Pale Moonlight

No brainer, probably, if "Mr Kitty" hadn't already made it absolutely clear that she doesn't know anything -- [laugh] he/she/it is right, of course, but not in the way he/she/it thinks -- but she's curious to find out what they think qualifies. In any case, she's never been one to turn away from the worst. It's far more trustworthy.

So I'm married to -- I can't tell -- Legoran? The auras are oddly distorted here, she can't tell for sure. Doesn't matter really. He's said and done enough that she knows how to respond to him, so deeply trained that her body responds automatically even to the light suggestion of sought-out violence, she'll play with him and fulfill his expectations as she's done with so many before --

But something's off, here. She's supposed to want this.

These ... feelings ... vulnerability? intimacy? They don't belong, not at all. The scent of him fills her, and sends her tottering toward the edge of a cliff she'd never known existed, shivering with the need to escape him, escape this. But physically, she can't, not without risking true injury to one or both of them; and mentally --

How deep does training go? Does it allow her to fall back into her learned responses, escape back into the predictable patterns? And if she can't: how easy, how very simple, just to take that single step, escape into a permanent oblivion?

16:24:00 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Auburn, Jonah's building

She shakes her head: "Sorry, no. I've never even seen a picture of him. But I don't think he'd have gone to him anyway. Maybe his brother though -- he sounded delighted to find out he had a brother last year. But you know, he never mentioned his name." Something whips her head around then, something that sounded like a crash waiting to happen. "Uh --"

In the meantime Dragon's gotten the fridge out of the way -- no traps, just a sudden fridge-sized space created amid all the ruined crockery and spoiling food -- and the piece of paper flutters free. Unbending it carefully, he discovers a common photobooth photostrip of two guys fooling around, tossled hair, visual gags. One, slight, Japanese-looking, seems a bit uncomfortable, like he's still learning to enjoy this kind of thing. He's the one in a necklock in one of the pictures. The other, dark-haired, Caucasian, robust, already solid and on the edge of stout, is clearly the initiator of these hijinks.

Dragon pauses, stares more closely at the photograph. No, he'd definitely seen it: in one of the pictures where the bigger man's fist ended up uncomfortably close to the camera lens, two light, almost unnoticeable, parallel scars. It's not a piece of cyber he'd ever seen before -- it's far from a common thing in military circles -- but he's willing to make an educated guess that the man has cyberspurs.

He turns the photostrip over. Nothing. Oh well. That would have been too easy. Wonder if Virgil got anything on this?

?? : ?? : ?? - Saturday, January 6, 2063 - Beneath the Pale Moonlight

Maybe that’s what frightens her most of all. She wants to take that step, wants to go over the cliff and lose herself in these strange feelings and sensations that make her feel warm and…safe. The elf raises himself off of her, just slightly, in response to subtle shifting of her body to readjust his weight more comfortably on her. “Better?” he asks. She nods in response, and as he moves slightly to ease himself back down onto her, the moonlight illuminates his face. It’s not Legoran , but… Sivalius ?

Her shock that such a chance encounter could lead to…this vision, for lack of a better word, immediately leads her to think that perhaps there was more significance to that encounter at the Paradigm Shift than she initially ascribed to it. Before she can contemplate this further, her skin tingles and is awash with anticipation as he gently begins running his hands up and down her body. He continues his assault on her senses by lightly kissing her face, lips, ears, and neck, a trail of kisses designed to tease, arouse, and enrapture.

Talia (for that is almost how she cannot help but view herself at this point, despite her best efforts and training) moans softly and begins running her hands up and down his back, feeling his taut muscles against her hands, and starting to lose herself in his embrace. She’s sure she’s never been here like this with him before. She’s sure she’s been here like this with him before.

Nibbling gently on her ear, he breathes, “We do have time tonight my dear, and you definitely have my attention.” He pauses, shifts his weight, and allows the sudden pressure against her inner thigh to register, then deliberately looks down before gazing into her eyes again and completing his pun with a smile, “All of my attention.”

?? : ?? : ?? - Saturday, January 6, 2063 - Beneath the Pale Moonlight

It's a two-fold shock of cold water, seeing his face. You're not Sivalius. I don't think. A wry addition: If you are, I'm in bigger trouble than I thought.

The unfamiliar feelings of warm and safe clash horribly with every instinct she has, disrupting and enhancing sensation. Instinct is allowing her to continue with this, but only within structure she doesn't have. Instinct is shrieking at her to distance her mind from this, whatever the cost. Instinct seeks escape from the incomprehensible, any escape. Nowhere in all her instinct is there a template for just letting herself go with it. That's always been for other people to have, and for her to use.

Her tongue is supposed to say something like "Mmm, that's nice." Her throat's far too constricted for her to choke out a single word: and even if she could have managed it, she has no idea what she'd say. Lost, spinning, maddened: it's a very real effort to step aside from the very real and increasingly desirable option of death-oblivion -- one or both, it really wouldn't have mattered. With my luck, I'd be trapped here forever. That's not the way out.

What would it cost, after all, just to go with it?

Only everything I am.

There's no question in her of half-measures, of pretense: this is an all or nothing deal. This is something she can understand. One commits the whole of one's life, or one abandons. Forks untaken cease to exist. She, Talia, is balanced on the cusp of Sivalius' full attention, and if she steps aside now, that fork will cease to exist. Step through the portal or not, knowing the chance won't come again.

Think of it as a new direction of study in human nature.

That thought, and the nervous, half-insane giggle evoked by it, shatters the barriers holding her back from taking that single step and following sensation and being swept along with it; and, in that moment of non-thought, outside, ex-stasis: Hmm, that was an interesting interpretation.

21:53:35 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

"It is not so much to ask, weighed in the grand scheme of things. It is, perhaps, an impossible question, though. Which is why I enjoy it. More often than not, when I ask it of people, they respond with what job they hold, or what career field they're in. Why? Do people find comfort in such labels? Do they define themselves by what they do for monetary compensation? I find it hard to believe that introspection is such a painful exercise that people must resort to external influences to place themselves in convenient, easy to understand catagories. I think most people are afraid of what they will find when they look inside themselves."

Byron leans close, resting his chin on his hand while he stares at the liquid swirling sluggishly in his wine glass. It's as if he's thinking out loud for the most part, and he only raises his eyes to pin Cosmo with their dark piercing gaze as he finishes.

16:49:15 Saturday, January 6, 2063 - Home
continued from Salvation

The line went dead leaving Blaze groggy but awake. I'm not gonna be able to get back to sleep, so I might as well get up. Sliding off the side of his bed Blaze opened himself to the Astral. Blaze's home was surrounded by a paper thin wall of astral energy designed to let him see out, but not let others see in. His eyes ran over every crevace of that wall, checking for cracks or holes. It was still intact, the light red glow from it pervasive inside the area of his home. Looking around Blaze found what he was looking for. The Leaopard form of his watcher sat curled up in the bed behind Blaze, looking for all the world as if it was asleep.

"My firend, I need your help once again. " Reaching his astral and physical hand down he slowly peted the large cat. "Do you remember the Woman I sent you out to look for before?" The watcher shook it's own head, waking from it's sleep. Purring softly while Blaze pet him it nodded it's assent. "That's good. I need you to find her again for me. Can you do that?" Stretching itself on the chunk of matter that was the bed's astral form the watcher growled it's assent. "Thank you. When you find her, please deliver this message, wait for her response, and then return to me." The spirit's ears perked up and rotated forward to better listen to Blaze's message. "This is your cousin, George. Margret asked me to try and find you. If you get this please send a return message with where I find you with this watcher. I hope I can find you, and that you are still safe." Scratching the spirit's head once again Blaze sent him on his way. "Leopard's speed and grace be with you."

Setting his physical body down on the bed, Blaze stepped fully into the astral world. As he pulled free from his body his hands elongated, growing claws, as his feet did the same. His face stretched slightly and his eyes narrowed into almonds with a golden center. Leaving his meat body behind Blaze floated through the paper thin wall of his home to stretch himself in the astral world, as well as the physical.

Leting himself go Blaze zipped out of the city at the speed of thought. Heading towards the few untouched forests of the NAN Territories his spirit became more and more like a full leaopard. Aproaching the edge of the vibrent auras of the forest he had become fully leopard. The bright green of the trees mixed with the blues of the birds and the red of the fish inside a creek. The auras of that life beckonded and he let himself be lost in the spirit of the animal, for at least a short time he was able to forget the worries of the human world and enjoy the vibrent life of the trees.

After 15 minutes Blaze returned to his body. Sliding back into the human realm he stood up, and began cleaning himself up. Standing in front of the mirror he began trying to think of what he should say to Max after such a long time.

16:25:00 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Auburn, Jonah's building

After a last sweep of the apartment to make sure he didn't miss anything that might prove remotely useful, looking especially for any information that might lead them to either of the two guys in the photo, Dragon heads back out where Virgil is conversing with the woman. Motioning his partner away from the woman for a moment so as not to tip the woman off to anything, he conceals the photo with his body from the woman and mutters, "Hey, I found this. Is either one of these guys Jonah, and who do you think the other guy might be?"

He frowns for a moment, and contemplates a third possibility. "Alternatively, if neither of these guys is Jonah, who do you think these two are?"

?? : ?? : ?? - Saturday, January 6, 2063 - Beneath the Pale Moonlight

The nervous giggle is suddenly, abruptly, cut short by a gasp of pleasure, as Sivalius (she is still having a hard time wrapping her mind around the word 'husband') makes good on his word to devote his full attention to her. Although she is far from an inexperienced lover, even the concept of that word, lover, seems different now.

For her, sex has always been nothing but one of many tools in her arsenal. A means to an end, an option to be considered appropriately for its potential uses, and used when most effective and set back in the toolbox when it is no longer needed.

But this is different. There are no games, no hidden meanings, no double entrendes, no agendas. He loves her, deeply, truly, and from the heart, in every way that matters. She can feel it. She knows it. The intimacy, the warmth, the safety...concepts so foreign to every aspect of her being, and here, in a moment, she feels them all at once, flowing from him to wrap their arms around her in a loving, tender embrace.

Her body had already begun responding, her mind had begun to be swept up in the moment, but now...now her heart had begun to melt under the sudden rush of emotions. Emotions that she had known the words for, understood the technical definitions of what the words meant, but yet held no true personal meeting to or for her.

Urgently, desperately, Talia raises her head to kiss him, to taste him, to express to him with actions what she is completely unable to put into words. Their kiss is fierce, passionate, this is nothing new to her. But intimate, trusting, loving, seeking to give, not to take. This...this is something she has never experienced from a lover, nor given to a lover before.

And then the dam breaks. Unable any longer to maintain the iron self-discipline that has defined her existence for as long as she can remember, she gives herself fully, body, mind, soul, and spirit to him, to Sivalius, to...her husband. Yes, that word feels good...husband.

Passion rises sharply, and time becomes a concept relegated strictly to the land of an irrelevant fact as they lose themselves entirely within one another. Gradually, passion reaches its inevitable culmination, and again, the difference is stark to Talia. There are no post coital games, or teasing, or hints of things withheld that may yet come.

Lying with her back to him, nestled snugly in his embrace, Talia feels a strange sensation she has rarely, if ever, felt. She can only describe it as peace, contentment, two more words that had little definition in her life outside of a textbook one. Nuzzling her neck, he...no, her husband whispers affectionately, "All these years, and every moment with you is something I cherish every second of."

She turns to face him, but the usual responses she would employ to encourage his attention die on her lips, unspoken, consumed by the small, but growing, flames of genuine affection and feeling for him. Looking into his eyes, she sees as well that there is no need. What she would ascribe as empty words to most carry the simple, but undeniable weight of the truth.

In reply, she simply eases him onto his back and cuddles up to him, resting her head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his steady breathing on her hair. He reaches up almost absently to stroke her hair, and after a few moments she turns to face him, her cheek resting on his chest.

Looking deeply into her eyes, he says three simple words, words that must have been uttered by countless billions throughout time. Three simple words, that for all the times she's heard them, have never frozen her like they have now. Striking in both their simplicity and depth, they carry more with them than she ever would have believed possible. Placing upon her once again, the weight of a decision, the choice of her response to those three simple words that she must make.

"I love you."

21:54:40 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo smiled slowly beneath the force of his gaze, the subtle arch of her back becoming a silent invitation as she drew him out, bit by bit. He was absolutely irresistible .. but that didn't mean that she couldn't play with him a bit as well. Her eyes turned a shade darker but sparkled no less brilliantly.

"In most cases, I'd be inclined to agree with you. There is a certain comfort that comes along with 'easy' labels; something readily identifiable that requires no true effort .. a serial number, if you will." She takes another small sip of water to calm her racing pulse before continuing.

"For others, I find, the issue has less to do with introspection than the ability of their peers to accept truths for what they are and look no further. It can be more painful, as I understand it, to share these truths and be feared, reviled even. Most people are not prepared to deal with the consequences of what they request."

21:55:17 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Byron laughs, drinking from his wineglass again.

"Fear and pain, two of the least understood emotions. But you shouldn't fear anything from me, no judgments are passed here." He leans forward, accepting Cosmo's invitation.

"So tell me, sweet Meaghan, tell me all of your secrets."

21:55:39 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Well you see, Byron, I'm actually a killer, an assassin, I think, trained by a clandestine organization that vanished almost overnight. They took me in when I was barely fourteen years old and taught me how to blend in with high society, I think to kill high profile targets. Yes, I said "I think" because I don't really know for sure. Hadn't you guessed that I'm missing a few of my memories? No? Imagine that...

A soft chuckle slipped out as she held the cool goblet to her lips for a moment. Cosmo smiles archly.

"What makes you think I have any secrets to tell, Byron?"

21:55:56 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

"All women have secrets, Meaghan, it's what makes them so alluring. The only eternal mystery in life is Woman."

A flash of lasciviousness ignites within Byron's dark eyes, shuttered and banked almost as soon as Cosmo sees it. His hunger is up, now, sensing that she is witholding information, possibly playing games with him.

"Beautiful women always have secrets to tell."

21:56:19 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

"I wonder how .. " she pauses to smile up at him warmly, her eyes alight with invitation, "alluring I would remain if I did as you asked and told you everything."

Long slender fingers set the glass of icewater on the table, idly caressing the goblet's stem as she leans a fraction closer, warming to this game of theirs.

"Mmmm, and what's the value of a secret if it's to be given away so effortlessly?"

21:56:32 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Byron laughs.

"Too true. Anything worth having is worth fighting for. Shall we spar then, sweet Siren? Shall I chase you like Apollo after Daphne?"

The two of them are well within lethal range and each knows it, Cosmo can feel the heat from his skin. The inertia of the moment is growing, almost irresistable, as they spiral towards the inevitable conclusion to this dance.

"No god will save you when I catch you, sweet Siren," he whispers, his voice throaty with promise and possibility, his dark eyes aflame.

21:56:18 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo's smile deepens into a devilish grin as his throaty threat sends a delicious shudder to the tips of her toes.

"Oh?" She purrs, the tip of her tongue, wildly pink, darting out to whet a plump lower lip.

"And what of a devil?"

21:56:41 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

The smile that graces Byron's lips reminds Cosmo that Satan was once the greatest of all angels.

"Abashed the Devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her own shape how lovely; saw And pined his loss. But enough, we have settled the stakes in this game, what shall the challenge be? Pistols at dawn? Or something a little more survivable?"

His dark gaze slides from one side of the room to the other, cataloging everything present, weighing the possibilities. Moments later he fixes it once more upon her, intense and fiery.

"Let this be the challenge: one riddle a piece. Whomever answers correctly shall win our battle of wills."

21:57:06 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

She draws a soft breath, releasing it as a sigh. Had she ever seen such a beautiful male? Cosmo chuckled and wondered if it would be possible to "lose" in a contest such as this but her competitive spirit asserted itself; she would try to win and let the cards fall where they would.

"Very well, then." Her gaze turned sultry as she leaned forward, her lips no more than a hairsbreadth from the mysterious coil of his ear. Her voice, warm and throaty, was barely above a whisper.

"You can have me but cannot hold me;
Gain me and quickly lose me.
If treated with care I can be great,
And if betrayed I will break.
What am I?"

16:26:02 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Auburn, Jonah's building

"The guy in the headlock," Virgil answers at once, absolutely certain. That slight sense of awkwardness in an extroverted situation, of trying to learn to like, merges perfectly with what he'd picked up from Cindy. "But I don't recognise the other person at all. And they don't look like they're related ...?"

"Hmm," says Dragon. Virgil maybe suspects something, but we'd better not make waves about asking. If this is a lead to Jonah, we could also be leading others right to him.

?? : ?? : ?? - Saturday, January 6, 2063 - Beneath the Pale Moonlight

She can't say it.

Why not? Truth is relative, and what's another lie? She knows what she should say, what she's supposed to say, what -- in this reality -- she apparently wants to say, what's supposed to be "real": but the words stick in her throat.

She doesn't belong here. She doesn't belong here.

?? : ?? : ?? - Saturday, January 6, 2063 - Someone's Thinking of You

And that’s the damnable misery of it all. What’s the fragging point of showing her all this, of putting her in these situations? She doesn’t belong here, so why is she here? What exactly is it that she’s supposed to be afraid of here anyway? Her mind is racing a mile a minute, wondering what Sivalius will say when she doesn’t respond. She expects…what? Rejection? Anger? Hurt? Isolation?

But she receives none of those things. Instead, he just leans forward and kisses her on the forehead, and says, “It’s ok. I know after all these years, the words still come hard for you. It’s ok. One day, you’ll be able to say with your mouth what you always say to me with your heart.” Affirmation? Acceptance? Patience? Even…the possibility of unconditional love? What is this place anyway? Who is this guy? What the frag is going on? Is this supposed to be a nightmare or a fantasy?

A tired yawn escapes from her lips and in response, her husband smiles. Pulling her close to him, they drift off to sleep, in contented slumber as fatigue overtakes her, and as her eyes flutter closed, the only thing on Talia’s mind is one simple concept: peace.

She awakes some time later, and Sivalius is gone. The sun is blocked by thick, heavy curtains that he apparently must have closed before he left, since they were open the night before. That small, caring gesture of his sensitivity towards her needs touches yet another cord in her heart. How could this guy know so much about me? How could he care so much about me? Does someone like him really exist?

Shaking her head, she sternly reminds herself that this isn’t real, that she doesn’t belong here, that he doesn't exist. But part of her knows that Sivalius is real, at least to a certain extent, and does exist, in another world. Still, that is neither here nor there. Apparently she’s still here in this bedroom, and she has to decide what exactly she’s going to do with herself now; since apparently this isn’t over yet, she may as well figure out what to do next.

?? : ?? : ?? - Saturday, January 6, 2063 - Someone's Thinking of You

Despite the enforced languor, she comes awake all at once. She always has. Even all these years with Sivalius --

She cuts herself off abruptly. There were no years with Sivalius, not in her reality. She's choosing to play by the rules of this one for the time being, but that doesn't change the basic fact.

Idly she wonders where he's off to today.

Up. Awareness of the sun is a deep thing in her, knifing longing ache that sometimes borders on pain. Four strides take her to the curtains, a sharp movement flings them open. After that, it will be the door.

21:58:14 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Shutters close behind his eyes, turning them momentarily blank and featureless as he contemplates her question. Then, slowly at first, but with growing conviction the dark fire returns to his gaze. He smiles, a wicked, hungry, triumphant smile. He lets his fingers trail down the back of her hand, his touch light and soft, before turning his face to hers. His lips are close enough that she can taste the merlot on his breath.

"Trust," he replies, lingering just long enough for the fires burning beneath her skin to threaten to rage out of control. Drawing back, he lays out nine white sugar packets on the table.

"You've been given nine marbles that all look identical to one another, but one of them is lighter, being made of steel instead of lead. Your task is determine which one of them is the light marble by using only to weighings on a balance."

Byron rests his butter knife on the raised elbow of his fork, forming a crude balance beam.

?? : ?? : ?? - Saturday, January 6, 2063 - Someone's Thinking of You

The sun shines down upon her, basking her in its rays and warm glow. She closes her eyes instinctively, bracing herself for pain…pain that never comes. The only thing she feels is its friendly, warming heat that envelops her in its warmth, and despite wearing only a silk robe she’d found waiting for her on a rocking chair in the bedroom, there is no chill. She takes a moment to absorb the sun and its warmth, reveling in the sensation that is so free of pain.

After a moment, but oh, what a moment, she turns her attention to business. First things first, she wants to get a handle on her surroundings. Exiting the master bedroom, she stands at the top of a descending staircase straight in front of her. To her left is a walkway that leads to a sitting area, and three doors that ring the sitting area. Along the walkway is another door, probably a bathroom, she guesses. The floor is plush and carpeted, and she enjoys the sensations of its softness against her feet as she strides to the first door on her left.

Opening the door, she notes with satisfaction that it is, indeed, a bathroom. Glancing around the room, she sees several towels hanging from racks, and various grooming accessories neatly arranged around the sink. But that’s not what stops her cold. For the first time, she looks into a mirror, and sees herself looking back.

My goodness…I’m beautiful. Although she immediately chides herself for her vanity, she can’t help but take some satisfaction in knowing that her appearance is very similar to what she’d always imagined it being. Long silvery platinum hair cascades down her shoulders to her back, a luxury she never would have allowed herself back when she was…that she could never allow herself now, she furiously reminded herself. Her skin is smooth and free of blemish, still that mid-olive skin color that showed hints of a light tan. Her dark blue eyes (deep blue, Sivalius had once described them as, a description she rather liked) held a deep allure of mystery and appeal. Her figure had filled out some, leaving her with a more curvy and sensuous figure as opposed to waifish, although she still was very petite and slender, she noted with satisfaction.

Shaking her head, she questioned, When did I become so vain? How much time has passed? Argh, I better keep moving before I start thinking this is really me. Leaving the bathroom, and more importantly, the mirror, quickly, she heads to the next door.

She’s more or less past any surprises by this point, but still, it’s somewhat of a shock to open the door and see a little boy sitting on the bed cross-legged, holding a stuffed cat, as if he was waiting for her. “Is it time to get up for school?” he asks. Nodding mutely, still taking in the fact that apparently this is her son , judging by his features and how he obviously reflects both her and Sivalius in his appearance.

Rubbing his eyes sleepily, he sort of shuffles over to her, and gives her a hug. With amusement, she notes that his head barely reaches her thigh. Looking up at her with big blue eyes, he says, “I had a bad dream Mommy.”

Talia looks around for his mother, ready to hand the kid off to her as soon as possible, when it really and truly hits home. He’s talking to her ! She looks up at the ceiling, taking it all in, and just thinks Mommy…oh boy what the frag else am I going to find out today? A tug of her robe snaps her out of her thoughts, and she looks down to see that the child, her son, is looking up at her expectantly, as if he’s waiting for her to say something…

21:59:06 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

And so having caught, been caught in return.

Cosmo's smile was no less wicked and just as starved as his, those petal soft lips parted oh so slightly, offering what was forbidden fruit until their challenge was decided. Her point, made so deliciously, was a victory in itself. But if you betray me, I will break. Don't ask for more than I can give?

Watching Byron, rather than the puzzle he's setting up on the table, she analyzes his movements, listens for unconscious stresses as he speaks, still marvelling that such an obviously powerful man saw fit to join her in this Game. There was no deception in his voice, and she believed all the packets were the same. The soft clatter of silverware draws her attention to the table and the pretty presentation spread out before them.

Nine marbles.

She glanced at the table, absently nibbling on her plush lower lip, her head tilted slightly to one side. The sudden smile that spread across her features was no less than dazzling as she deliberately leaned across him to retrieve a small side plate, the softness of her silk-clad chest brushing his abdomen twice before she straightens, setting the plate above the neat row of sugar packets. Cosmo shrugs lightly and suddenly the neckline of her delectable green dress is just a bit lower.

Deft fingers separate the nine packets into neat stacks of three, laying each out with ordered precision. The two outside stacks are lifted, one placed delicately on either end of the balanced butter knife. With all six packets suspended in perfect balance, she laughs throatily and places all six on the side plate. Two of the remaining three packets are then placed on the knife, balancing themselves, and are discarded onto the plate. The last sugar packet flickers between her fingers and is presented to Byron with a little flourish and the deadly serious arch of an eyebrow.

21:59:36 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Byron accepts the sugar packet from Cosmo tearing off a corner and pouring the contents into his cup of coffee. His eyes never leave hers.

"A draw, then. Shall we go again? Or, perhaps, a different challenge is called for?"

21:59:49 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo nods slowly, very nearly devouring him with her eyes as she reaches down between them.

"A different challenge." Her keychain rattles lightly as she pulls it from her handbag and dangles it just to one side.

"Do you drive?" Choose your destination, Byron.

16:38:02 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Auburn, Jonah's building

Noticing that Doreen is clearly waiting to return to the comfort and percieved safety of her own apartment Virgil notes that she has probably given him about as much information as she has. Perhaps Cindy might have some thoughts upon seeing this picture. I'll have to make sure that we get a copy of it to the clinic. Daedalus will also need a copy if he is going to aid with the search.

"Thank you so very much for all your help ma'am. God bless you and your family. And may He help us to find Jonah with all speed."

With that he indicated to Dragon that they should take their leave, unwilling to discuss any plans for the photo until back in the privacy of Juliette's car.

22:00:18 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Again, the question is mostly rhetorical. Byron sets a certified credstick on the table before standing and offering his hand to Cosmo. Wordlessly he leads her outside, handing his claim ticket to the valet. Moments later a sleek black Porsche Winter idles at the curb. Ignoring the valet for a moment, he walks Cosmo to her BMW, handing her into the driver's seat.

"Air Freight Terminal Ten, LAX."

With one last smile, he's gone in a swirl of longcoat. Seconds later, Cosmo hears the Porsche's engine rev.

16:38:02 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Auburn, Jonah's building

Doreen quickly vanishes back into her apartment, which is quickly locked and bolted.

?? : ?? : ?? - Saturday, January 6, 2063 - Someone's Thinking of You

Reality check. Of course she's good-looking, by design. She'd never really understood what that meant, before, just took it on faith, but it's got some pretty fragging solid logic underlying it. Now, if this mirror -- and she finds herself pulled back to it, as if by a magnet -- were to reflect something other than the physical appearance, then we might get a different story.

Enough staring. Onward. And when I'm through casing these rooms, find an outside door and get out! Into that sunshine. Into full awareness that its distinct feel within her is gone, cast away, leaving her empty, hollow.

Mine hosts are determined to prove that I belong here. I'll just have to play out this charade to its end.

And runs into the kid.

It's obvious he shares her genetic heritage, it's carved into the bones of his face. But ... mommy? I don't even know if I can have children. Is this supposed to make me feel regret over it or something?

"Mommy, I had a bad dream."

Oh, let's hear the symbology behind this one. Can't wait to hear how it fits into this place. "Why don't you tell me about it?" she asks directly.

16:26:54 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Auburn, Jonah's building

Walking down the front stairs Virgil crosses in front of the sedan as Dragon open the driver's side door. Once secure inside the car Virgil voices his previous thoughts.

"Is there a way that you can get a copy of that photo to Daedalus and one over to the clinic? I want Cindy to take a look at it and see if she recognizes the other man. How far away is the drop box that your sister set-up? We don't have much time to make our meeting."

22:02:26 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Casting a bemused smile over her shoulder as she hurries out of the restaurant, Cosmo waves lightly to her fixer and winks, her fingers tightening around Byron's. Sorry, Tino. She was thankful for the cold night air, more than anything else as it had the same effect on her as the icewater had in the restaurant. Her colour was high, though, as she gazed lustfully at the sinfully black Porsche. Her fingers twitched as she half reached out, aching to caress those curves, to find out whether its body was as slickly smooth as it appeared. The smile she turned toward Byron as he handed her into her own little coupe was potent enough to make a lesser man fall over. With smoldering eyes nearly as dark as his and an assertive nod of her head, she gunned the BMW's engine, keyed into her onboard computer, and cranked up the stereo.

"All right, babe," gloved fingers caress the leather covered steering wheel, "let's do this."

Cosmo waits for a break large enough for only one of their cars in the heavy Santa Monica Blvd traffic, taking off quickly and without warning. She weaves her way through spaces barely long enough for the little coupe, seizing opportunities that would only last for seconds before they vanished completely, using every trick she knew to play the lanes of traffic against the Porsche that never seemed more than two or three lengths away.

Finally, the exit for the Imperial Expressway looms in the distance. Cosmo hugs the far lane, sliding in between a Bison and a Phaeton, the thrilling ride sending her pulse racing as nothing else could.

22:05:04 Saturday January 6, 2063 - Caveman Kate's

The bar rang with the sounds of people talking, pool games, glasses clinking and a trio of large trideo screens showing various sporting events. Unlike a lot of sports bars Erebus had been in Kate's lacked that ever pervasive bluish smoke haze, a tribute to nuyen well spent on a good ventilation system. The sounds and flashing lights meant that there were plenty of booths with thick shadows, and no one would suspect a runner and his fixer to meet in a place like this. The soyburger hadn't been half bad, and most of the tables he could see had baskets of wings on them which told him those were probably pretty decent too. It seemed to him Kate's was pretty popular for a local beer joint.

The crowd in here all seemed pretty mild mannered and business was brisk, judging by dress and demeanor most of the people were worker bees, just your average Joe out to catch a game and have a drink with their friends. The pool tables were busy, with strangers talking and laughing with each other as they played. The crowds watching the soccer match on one of the screens were loud and boisterous but generally well behaved.

Erebus sipped his Henry Weinhardt's Private Reserve and watched the crowd.

These people are a mystery to me. They go through their lives, pushed and pulled by forces they never even realize are effecting them, without ever really seeing the darker parts of the world that surrounds them. They seem oblivious to the fact that the Sixth World is a dangerous place, as if by simply wanting to be happy and safe they get to be happy and safe.

To Erebus these people were like sheep, idly grazing through the high grass never really aware of the wolves circling around their pasture. The feeling of being a predator among the prey was heady, but it also made him different and he wondered what it might be like to fit in.

I don't want to be a sheep, but sometimes being the wolf wasn't all that wiz either. I wonder what it would be like to be one of the sheep, not to worry about people lurking whenever you leave your home. To not carry a gun with you into the bathroom of your own doss. It must be peaceful.

He couldn't help giving a sarcastic little smile at that thought.

Cattle were pretty calm as they headed into the slaughter house too, it didn't mean that they weren't in danger, just that they were too stupid to see the danger coming.

He sipped his beer and waited for Max this time watching the crowd and not wondering about their families and kids but rather seeing sheep that cried out to be sheered.

22:31:50 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Imperial Air Cargo Complex, Los Angeles International Airport South Field, Los Angeles, CFS

It was more of a chase than a race in the end, since the Porsche outclassed the BMW in just about every performance aspect. And that was before the modifications were done. Cosmo played to win, though, her maneuvers superbly timed and executed. The traffic was a great levelling factor, confused motorists forming ranks of obstacles that shifted and braked at inopportune moments.

The offramp for Imperial Highway is a parking lot of vehicles headed on to Sepulveda Blvd to the main terminals of LAX. Cosmo's position on the outside gives her a momentary advantage as she screams past the halted traffic on the left shoulder. Only too late does she realize that merging traffic ahead will either force her to slow or to duck to the inside. A narrow gap opens between an airport shuttle and a two ton cargo truck, and her BMW shoots through with centimeters to spare. But the red taillights disappearing down the right shoulder are just out of reach, and not even her desperate, last ditch snake through the open parking lot of a Stuffer Shack can bring her ahead of the sleek black racing machine.

Both vehicles slide to a halt in the parking lot outside hangar ten, tires screaming. Immediately both drivers are out and striding towards one another, even as the dust from their high-speed entrance settles. Adrenaline and arousal sing through Cosmo's veins, and she watches as Byron stalks towards her, raw hunger in each step. His arms snake around her, whip-fast, crushing her against him, and he winds his fingers in her hair, pulling her head back. His face is possessive, his will irresistable.

"To the victor, the spoils," he hisses, eyes afire. As his lips come down on her's, Cosmo remembers:

"The spoils of victory!" Version gloated, the waterfall of crystalline perfection tumbling from his hand onto the black velvet cloth. Next to him, at the table, sat Iris and Stain, both matching their leader's vicious grin.

"Stupid spooks thought they could double-cross me! Ha!" The three of them cackle madly. Cosmo waits, lounging topless on the bed, knowing that the months of preparation and inaction had all led up to this point. Version glanced over his shoulder at her, slate gray cybereyes narrowing in desire.

"C'mere, baby. Wanna see what a million nuyen looks like?"

"Dress me up in diamonds, baby," cooed Cosmo, sliding from the bed and making her way across the floor to the table. Leaning over Version's right shoulder, she smiled down at him, watching the direction of his gaze. Her left hand already held the narrow glass stilleto, and with a smooth, practiced gesture she slid it through his neck at a slight upward angle. She covered the initial wounded jerk of his body by leaning down and kissing him, already tasting the blood on his lips as both ruptured carotid arteries pumped their load into his throat. Her right hand dipped to the Predator III in the holster beneath his left arm. Iris cried out a warning, the bitch had never trusted her, but by then it was too late. Cosmo had the weapon clear for action. The muzzle flashes reflected twice off the glittering carpet of diamonds, both shots center of mass. Iris toppled backwards out of her chair, lips moving soundlessly while the pair of 9mm holes in her chest hissed and gurgled. Stain was rising as she pivoted, his reflexes as fast as hers but hampered by the moment of inattention. The muzzle of the HK227 held in his right hand yawned like the mouth of Hell. The Predator bucked and roared in her hands, adrenaline yanking the trigger. Hollowpoint rounds snapped between them, cratering Stain's face and upper chest. The submachinegun in his hand blew divots from the floor, the smartgun interface obeying the last command the elf's brain had sent even as the hand holding the weapon went slack. Smoke and powder residue curled in the air, and the room stank of cordite, blood, and feces. Cosmo shivered, chill, her pale naked skin speckled with red.

Byron breaks the embrace, eyes widening as he draws back from Cosmo. For a moment the shutters click closed and he is someone, something else, standing in front of her. Then, as if it had never happened, the man she knows, despite having met so recently, is back. He offers his hand.

22:32:12 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Imperial Air Cargo Complex, Los Angeles International Airport South Field, Los Angeles, CFS

She was cold. More than anything else, a chill had seeped into her very bones and while she was softly pale beforehand her skin stood out, ghostly white, against the dark fabric of her long coat. Cosmo was fairly certain that she hadn't stiffened up in his arms and while she trembled (Spirits, how she was trembling), it could have been attributed to the excitement of their race to LAX. Her eyes were wide as well, ringed with black, and her lower lip quivered for a second before she could bring herself back under control.

"How did you ..." she trails off with a bit of a hitch in her breathing and twines her fingers with his, squeezing tightly when all she wanted was to be pressed up against him again, to forget what she had just lived through .. again.

?? : ?? : ?? - Saturday, January 6, 2063 - Someone's Thinking of You

"OK Mommy." The little boy takes her hand and pulls her over to the bed, and indicates that she should sit down. Playing along, Talia eases herself onto the bed and repeats, "OK, let's hear it."

Nodding seriously, as if this had all the importance in the world, the boy climbs onto her lap and looks up at her. Almost against her will, she instinctively wraps her arms around him. The boy pulls the stuffed cat close, making a nice collective group, before starting.

"I had a bad dream. In my dream, you told us that you didn't love us anymore, and that you were leaving Daddy and us to go far far away."

"Far far away?"

He nods with the utmost seriousness. "Far far away. And...and you said..." His lips begin trembling, and his eyes fill with big crocodile tears. "And you said you never ever wanted to see us again!"

Oh you've got to be kidding me. What is this, a collective guilt trip or something?

Crocodile tears give way to full fledged sobs, and he throws his arms around her neck and holds her tight. "Say it's not true Mommy! It's not true, right? You're not going to go far far away and never ever see us again!"

Hmm...I wonder if somewhere in my past I was ever trained to deal with a crying...son? Ahem. Well I guess we'll find out. Yeesh, I have no idea how long I'm going to be here. I don't know where 'here' even is. What kind of freaking astral quest or whatever is this anyway?

22:32:49 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Imperial Air Cargo Complex, Los Angeles International Airport South Field, Los Angeles, CFS

Byron pulls her close again, his right hand sliding around her waist. The music is unheard, but he waltzes with her nonetheless, spinning her effortlessly. His body is warm as he holds her close, his breath soft on her neck.

"It's a kind of magic," he whispers.

16:27:11 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Auburn, Jonah's building

"It's set up already at a mall near Sea-Tac. Shouldn't be too hard to get to, but how far is this meet anyway?"

Speaking out loud for Virgil's benefit, Dragon asks, "Daedalus, what would we need to make copies of this for you anyway? Can we transmit this to you electronically or something?"

Turning back to the shaman, he asks, "So how you want to play this? Go for the drop first and then head to the meet or what? Where is the meet anyway?"

22:33:17 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Imperial Air Cargo Complex, Los Angeles International Airport South Field, Los Angeles, CFS

"A kind of ...." Magic?

Cosmo closes her eyes and swallows the lump that seems all but stuck in her throat, twin pinpricks threatening in the corners of her eyes. As much as a part of her wanted to pull back, gather her wits, and regain some semblance of control over the situation, the larger part of her wanted nothing more than to give in to the warm, reassuring strength that Byron offered. She settled, as always, somewhere in the middle and continued dancing, pressed comfortingly close but still holding herself apart as they twirled about the darkened parking lot.

22:33:43 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Imperial Air Cargo Complex, Los Angeles International Airport South Field, Los Angeles, CFS

Byron chuckles deeply.

"No, not that kind of magic."

He twirls her gently to a halt, dipping her low, before kissing her again.

"That kind of magic."

22:33:43 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Imperial Air Cargo Complex, Los Angeles International Airport South Field, Los Angeles, CFS

If she hadn't been suspended halfway to the ground in the arms of a deliciously handsome man who'd just finished kissing her so thoroughly, Cosmo might have grown fustrated with the fact that although she knew exactly what Byron meant; she had absolutely no clue what he was talking about. Her mind was still swimming with desire, coloured with the sort of desperation that comes from real fear. Her chest heaved, her eyes darkened with longing for something she couldn't quite understand. Her fingers threaded through the short, silky curls at the nape of his neck as she pulled his mouth nearer to her own.

She didn't want another challenge and surprisingly enough, she didn't want physical intimacy as much as she wanted .. something else.

"Ahh," she smiled up at him, drawing a shaky breath and nodding slowly. "That kind of magic...."

16:27:22 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Auburn, Jonah's building

"The place is called the Fox and Hound Tavern located on the north side of Riverton. It's a middle-class place so there is no way that you can show up looking like you do, we'll have to stop for the change of clothes first."

Seeing the look of concentration on Dragon's face as he was likely querying his headware GPS Virgil spoke right up, he wouldn't pick a location that he knew nothing about.

"It should be a bit less than 10 minutes north of Sea-Tac allowing for normal traffic, but we are about 20 minutes south of Sea-Tac at the moment. You may have to drop me off at the meeting first and then make your entrance a bit later. That would not be too much of a hassle because it is likely that I'll be asked the most questions."

22:34:02 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Imperial Air Cargo Complex, Los Angeles International Airport South Field, Los Angeles, CFS

The Porsche's door swings open in response to a silent command, and Byron hands her into the seat before moving around to the driver's side. The engine starts with a purr, and the sleek black vehicle disapppears into the night.

Across the airfield, at the Ares corporate hangar, inside the sleek gray and black Cessna Citation Jet, digital surveillance feeds are being indexed and catalogued. Pattern recognition software, keyed to a specific set of facial features, constantly scans the images. When it locates an image that matches within acceptable parameters, it keys the alarm.

22:34:28 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Imperial Expressway, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo settled into the front seat of the sumptuous sports car, her eyes still dreamily half-closed. She breathes deeply and smiles as the inside of the Porsche smells remarkably similar to Byron himself. Again, his presence almost overwhelms her though a tiny voice screams in the back of her mind. Something .. important.

"So what now?" She breathes, half turning in her seat to admire his strong profile, limned by the flickering lights of a world that seemed oddly distant.

22:36:41 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Los Angeles, CFS

Byron's smile is again half-wicked.

"I told you that no god would save you once I caught you. I am a man of my word."

The trip is short, just fifteen minutes down the 705 interstate. The Porsche brakes to a halt in front of an exclusive condominuim high-rise. Byron tosses his keys to one valet while another opens the door for Cosmo. Offering his hand once more, Byron escorts her inside, opening the doors with a quick scan of his fingerprint. The same pass gets them into the elevator, which rises automatically. Byron uses his body to press Cosmo against the back wall, his fingers brushing across her cheek before his lips claim hers again.

22:52:08 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Los Angeles, CFS

"I told you that no god would save you once I caught you. I am a man of my word."

Her smile had turned sultry at that admission, all thoughts of her abandoned BMW (and its contents) left behind. The silence they shared during the short drive was far from comfortable in the normal sense of the word; both knew what would come and the anticipation of it was very slowly driving her insane. The trip from LAX to this new building was almost surreal and she could have sworn that she floated through its doors.

Wincing slightly as her bruised and scraped back met with the cool, unyielding wall, Cosmo purrs softly as she's brought back into wakefulness by more than six feet of brooding, empassioned male. She molds herself to his larger frame, looping her arms about his neck, staring into wildly intense eyes that continue to draw her deeper and deeper until she finds herself surrendering, in part at least, to his strength. A dimple peeked devilishly out of each cheek as she offered herself to him .. wholeheartedly.

22:54:26 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Los Angeles, CFS

The elevator stops at the fifth floor, and Byron leads Cosmo out into the hallway, down to the third door on the right. The maglock again opens for his fingerprint, admitting the couple into the well-appointed flat. Byron slides his arms around Cosmo's waist again, dancing her down the hallway, through the dimly lit front room and into the bedroom.