0802 Saturday, January 6, 2063 - middle of the breakfast rush, and aching with her disrupted sunrise

I hate being condescended to.

"Sumimasen ga, I'm tired an' blanking, an' I didn't catch all of that, an' I should have." She's beyond irritated at herself as well, and she lets it show. "Means you're right, can't continue doing two jobs. You're busy, I'm screwed up, just say what you want me to do with the matches an' card an' I'll do it, please?"

As a rule she hated wards as an unpleasant necessary part of existence, and she'd always avoided building them for the far more practical reason of not wanting to draw attention -- but -- every rule has its exception.

This qualifies.

1429 January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic

"I'm sorry, son," says Father Bremen, and his tone tells you that he means it. "I don't know more than what I've told you. I wish I had a perfect memory, but I don't. I wish I could understand everyone perfectly, but I can't. I wish I could tell you what you're supposed to do, but you know more about all this than I do, now."

At that moment Tiffany returns, camera in hand. Her voice is hard-edged: "We're getting out of here. Now."

Not even the woman on the bed says anything, but Father Bremen steps forward, takes her arm gently, leads her to a chair.

She's shaking.

0803 Saturday, January 6, 2063 - middle of the breakfast rush, and aching with her disrupted sunrise, and paranoid over who this voice could be

Hobbes smiles gently at her. "We know. That's why it's time for you to move on." She pauses, and continues, "If it was me, I'd keep them, if only because they are your only leads, unless you have reason to believe they're dangerous. Or better yet, keep the information, especially on the card, and get rid of them."

"Now go home and get some rest. We can talk about other matters when you aren't fading so badly."

1429 January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic

Great...just fragging great...it never ends, does it? Dragon mutters in his head. "Tiffany, what's going on? Give me the executive summary of who's after us now and why we're in danger." Turning to Virgil, he adds, "Apparently, if you're going to do something, you better do it fast."

Fastening the straps on his armor bit tighter, he ensures all his weapons are in their proper places. "You still got that gun with you?" he asks Sybersnake absently.

She nods, and even though she doesn't say anything he knows she is both angry and scared. Scared that they just seem to constantly be in danger, and angry because she knows it's her fault.

Sighing mentally he thinks, well, here we go again. "OK Tiffany, let's hear it."

0803 Saturday, January 6, 2063 - tired

And because she's who she is, without another word Alleycat sets the tray neatly to one side, throws her coat overtop, and walks out, flinching visibly as the sunlight hits her, before she vanishes into the underground PATH.

A kapuseru hoteru would do best, just now, and she remembered a couple along this route. Most of those in Seattle didn't seem to be picky about replacing all one's clothing and proper toilet slippers and all that before slotting access: you just slotted your credstick and you were go. Wards, or sleep? While she'd been willing to spend the hour to put up at least minimal wards, she'd realised on the way that they'd end up sticking around a lot longer than she'd want them to, and her signature would be all over them. Seems her subconscious had recognised this a lot faster than it had taken to filtre through to her brain. Sleep, then: and if anyone else wanted to go whispering at her in her dreams, at least she wouldn't wake up feeling half-strangled again.

Probably.

Fragging hell, Hobbes, I'd been trying to ask you if there was any reason to believe anything dangerous about them. Reluctantly she adds to herself, because she can't not, not and be honest with herself, I'd been trying to get your help because I don't know what to do next.

And she'd probably given it too, only Alleycat hadn't heard more than a couple of words here and there. Damn the man!

Interesting -- she'd apparently started thinking of the voice as "him". Have to watch that. Later will be soon enough, she thinks irritably, and again reluctantly adds, I hope. At least it hadn't had her feel. If it had, Alleycat would have been across a couple of borders by now.

Suddenly she's actively looking forward to the run.

All the locks and security systems active, she sets her internal alarm for 1030, and the capsule chronometer for a minute after that (just in case), and in the cramped, claustrophobic coffin, she falls instantly asleep.

1429 January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic

"Kid died," says Tiffany flatly. Now she's really shaking ... so hard that the cam's in serious danger of falling from her hand.

1430 January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic

Slowly and gently, Dragon steps forward and takes the camera from her hand before she actually does drop it. "You've seen death before," he says softly, "what makes it different this time?"

She's starting to really shake now, so he gently puts an arm around her, careful to not do anything that might be interpreted as romantic, especially in front of Sybersnake. Giving in to the shakes a little, she starts trembling and clings tightly to him a few moments, as the dry heaves come, which typically signify crying with no tears, and are no different this time.

After a few moments, she makes a visible effort to regain her composure, and takes a few deep breaths to steady herself.

Gently, he prods, "OK, so what's going on? What is so different about this time, and why do we have to leave right now?"

Since she's looking down, he takes the opportunity as well to shoot Virgil a 'hey just in case this is serious, let's deal with this woman from the fire and get what we need, so we can get going' look. A bit extensive, yes, but they've known each other a while, and Dragon knew Virgil already had a plan. Er, at least he hoped.

double post

argh, triple post, sorry

1431 January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic

Tilting his head toward Dragon in a slight nod of recognition Virgil turned his attention back to the now startled women on the bed, noticing that he was now clutching at the rosary hanging below his sternum, his thoughts upon the young girl who had just perished.

I hope that Tiffany at least got the tragedy hear on record. That might be the only chance this clinic, and others, have any chance at stemming what might turn into full-blown outbreak.

"Miss I am going to try and help you know by trying to discover the memories that you have forgotten. This will not cause you any injury, but I will need you to lie back, close your eyes, and try to relax. To help you the best that I can I am going to need your assistance by not resisting me."

1430 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic

And quietly, unobtrusively, as Dragon is anchoring the shaking reporter, Sybersnake gently takes the minicam from him. He resists automatically for a couple of seconds, then -- with an unfamiliar reluctance -- lets her have it. After all, even without her deck, she was the best person they had for electronics, and Tiffany still wasn't in any shape to talk.

It's an unfamiliar piece of equipment to Sybersnake, but she figures it out quickly enough. It's designed to be user-friendly, after all -- there's even a jack-in option -- and functions such as Record and Erase have automatic safety guards built in. Within a very few seconds, she has the most recent memory accessed. Fast-forward over basic interviews and overviews. And then she finds it, and slows it down to normal speed, and turns it toward the hallway with the sound off so that Dragon can see, but not the others, and not Tiffany buried into his shoulder. After a moment, the mercenary nods: he could always show it to Virgil later, but to try to let him see now would also be to let the woman on the bed see it as well, and might distract him besides. Let him do whatever he does, quickly, and then he could get the executive summary.

And then, seeing, Dragon freezes.

He forces himself to watch. They'd all seen the kid starting to haemorrhage before. Even when dealing with the blood mage, he'd never seen a person's skin liquify into blood, eyes dissolving in blood, blood spewing out of her, red and pale and black black black -- and the kid was conscious the entire time, silently shrieking in pain even through the pain-diffusing magics around her until her voice and her strength gave out, shuddering, whimpering, choking on vomited blood. When the small form goes finally still, a very pale Sybersnake unplugs the cam, and hands it back to him very steadily, and steps back, and then flees down the hall.

He's seen death in combat, how many times? This is different. Very different.

Somewhere down the hall, he can hear the sound of Sybersnake retching.

1431 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic

"Finally," says the woman, but she complies, lying back on the bed in a posture that waits impatiently for Virgil to get on with it.

21:59:32 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Seattle, UCAS

Tenmou is slightly unsettled by the change in Miss Omura, but smartly bows to his charge before holding the door for her and pulling out his cellphone to call a cab.

He double-checks his watch to make sure that time had truly elapsed as long as it had.

"So much for a half-hour appointment..." he thought to himself.

22:13:11 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Seattle, UCAS

Akiko Omura stands by the curb, left hand on her hip, the other arm loose by her side. She ignores Tenmou, and everyone else on the street, her focus distant and aloof. Her clean shirt and porcelain skin are a beacon in the night, and already the street predators are circling. Tenmou watches as no less than three groups coalesce from the shadows of the nearby alleyways, eyes glittering in the harsh sodium illumination from the streetlights. Luckily, the cab arrives before the nearest of the groups gets its nerve up to make a move. Akiko climbs into the backseat, again not waiting for her bodyguard, her face an icy mask.

"5801 West Convoy Avenue," she tells the driver.

1431 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic

Dragon has seen a lot of things in his life time, and growing up as a mercenary, he'd been exposed to the harsh realities of the world early on. But this? This was something else entirely. Although he didn't know much about science, something told him that there was no natural disease or condition that could do that to someone. At least, he certainly hoped not. It was times like this that he was grateful for that sense of detachment that kept him emotionally distant from the world around him.

Trying to remember everything he saw in as technical a way as possible to shut out the horrifying reality of what the descriptions actually meant, he mentally inputed the condition of the girl, as well as a description of the symptoms, if you could even call them that, into the biomonitor. As it began scanning through its progams in search of what the condition could be, Dragon was once more grateful for the cold, clinical way the program ran. 'Condition'. Such a tidy word for such a horrific situation. Still, in this case, he'd take it.

As the program ran, part of him hoped that it would turn something up, that it would put a name to this monstrosity, an identity for something that could be fought. The other part of him hoped there was nothing that bad on the system, that this was just an aberration. The most likely answer though, he already knew with a cold certainty. It would turn up nothing, because as of yet, at least, there was no record of man's latest way to be inhumane to his fellow man.

It almost went without saying, that they had yet another task on their hands. There was no way Virgil wouldn't want to do something about this, and Dragon could hardly blame him. For a variety of reasons, Tiffany would also have more than enough motivation to want to help as well, and despite all the troubles Sybersnake already had, he was pretty sure that she wouldn't be able to just walk away from it. To be completely honest with himself, he didn't think he could either. And maybe that was a good thing.

1431 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic

It startles Dragon when the biomonitor does turn up something:

1023 Saturday, January 6, 2063 - in a coffin hotel

She's just barely tall enough to bang her head on the ceiling when the call comes in, seven full minutes before she'd set her alarm for. "Hai?"

"Finally you're answering. Thought you were going to call me back ages ago."

She rubs her temples. It does nothing for the borderline headache. "Got a password for me, Avalanche?"

"Just tell them you've got a ... Mutual Interest ... with someone there. Matrix person, ork, had a troll and an elf flanking him. They've seen Blaze before, and know me as Ice Cube."

"Will you be there?"

"Don't know yet. If I'm not, start without me."

"Will do. Maybe you'd better give me Durin's contact number too?"

Avalanche gives it, then hangs up. He sounds as tired as Alleycat feels. Even so, the mana yields to her readily, this part that is as second nature to her as living in her own skin. This time, for clothing, she invests directly in a set of catsuit flats from the vending machine down the hall from her small capsule, and calls up a cab from the public telecom at the same time. She begins to dial Blaze up on her own equipment, checks -- she'll see him soon enough at the meet.

She hooks a pair of red-lensed google-shades, with an audible "smartgun" sound, to complete the effect.

She'd entered half as Anne. She left as a tall, gangly, ebon-skinned, street-sure elf with short, frizzed, white hair -- and no one at the desk to comment on the change.

I love fully automated hotels.

1350 January 6th, 2063 - Outside of Leatherneck's, Redmond

"Knight, I don't mean to rush you, but the sooner I can drive out of this neighborhood the better."

Portia's Eurocar Westwind idling in the street sat in stark contrast to the less than middle class surroundings. Leatherneck's was located about six blocks south of Redmonds nicest area, Touristville, and while there were certainly more dangerous areas of the Barrens, this was not a place to be caught sitting in a flashy sports car.

Opening the car door Knight swung his legs out of the low slung machine and was then stopped a gentle pull on his left arm.

"Take this Knight." Portia insisted handing him a small fold of assorted bills. "That is the only cash that I have on me, there should be 100 . It's better than what you have now."

As Knight opened his lips to voice the expected protest Portia instantly cut him off.
"I said to take it. Get in contact with me tonight so that I know your still alive and well."

"I will precious. Your kindness during my most needy of hours will not go unrequited."

With a final wink Portia urged the tires of the car to a sharp chirp and Knight quickly shoved the bills into the inside pocket of his long coat as he hurried onto the sidewalk. Stepping across the chipped curb he strode with all confidence up to the steel double doors graced with the symbol of an eagle holding an anchor etched into the dented material.

Looks like a military symbol. Perhaps this is some sort of merc hangout.

No doorman was waiting outside the door, nor inside the threshold as Knight entered. Knight figured the lack of a bouncer was due to the non-upscale nature of the joint, but as his eyes roved over the small crowd of late afternoon locals he realized that this was the last place that someone would want to cause trouble.

The right wall of the bar was lined with a long counter holding an assortment of taps and serviced by a large ork male wearing a damp apron and cutoff sleeves. Across from the bar was an assortment of tables, no hint of a dance floor. One table in the far corner was occupied by a group of three roughneck appearing human males engaged in some heavy drinking and hearty laughter.

Standing in the doorway Knight quickly realized that he stood out, and not because of his race. This bar was like many of the small blue-collar pubs that dotted every other city he'd travelled through, but there was something else about the crowd here . . .something tighter than just the bond shared by the working man.

22:15:01 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Seattle, UCAS

Tenmou quickly steps into the cab and sits down beside his charge, before the cabbie pulled away without him.

Turning slightly towards the radically different Akiko Omura, he says in a low voice.
"Miss, since I am under your uncle's charge to keep you safe and see you returned home, might I inquire as to where we are going?"

22:15:19 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Seattle, UCAS

Akiko turns to Tenmou, an icy sneer twisting her lips.

"Current operational security precuations indicate that you do not require this information in order to adequately execute your tasking. However, since you asked so nicely, I suppose I can divulge these details. We are enroute to an intermediate destination where I will receive final mission tasking. You will not interfere with this necessary deviation."

She returns her gaze to the street passing outside her window. A heartbeat later, though, she turns again to Tenmou.

"And next time, bring your own vehicle."

13:55, January 6th 2063- Leathernecks Bar- Redmond

Knight allowed his gaze to sweep the room one more time as he steps in and clear of the doorway. Standing out as he was he was not about to appear hesitant. Casually his hand swept the few still melting snowflakes from his shoulder as his footfalls bring him nearer the bar. Ignoring the many eyes watching him he motions the bartender.

"A little something to take the chill off chummer. Brandy favorite, real if your lucky enough to have any" his voice is crisp and clear cut but humming with the lilting melody only those born in Tir Na Nog possess.

Outsider i may be. But then thats something i can use, means I`m as unknown to them as they are to me.

The ork grunts something and pours a dark amber liquid into a glass and places it before Knight. He pulls two 10nuyen notes from his pocket and places them down on the bar beneath his fingers. It`s a fith of what Portia gave him but worth it for the image he`s projecting.

"..and take a little something for yourself too." he moves his fingers tugging one of the notes away as the ork`s hand comes down and raises a brow glancing momentarily to the glass. "Real?.."

The barman growls "Real..here? you kiddin yeh?"

Knight places only one of the tens back down.

"Didnt think so, but its always worth asking" he smiles a little as the barman takes up the single ten, noting the man`s small hidden frown. "I`m generous, not stupid chummer. Not real is not worth twenty with a good tip." He takes a sip from the glass and settles against the bar looking about the place again.

0945 Saturday, January 6, 2063 - The lodge.

As Blaze walks through the small park he can feel his lodge, hidden in a small copse of trees. Stepping off the path he can feel the tingling of mana that let's him know he is in the Leopard's presence.

"I failed to find her. Leopard, please I need your help, your eyes, your ears, your speed and your power to find Melissa, and to save her from the danger she is in. Please grant me that stregnth to save the last family that I know of."

Still dressed in his long coat Blaze sits down and crosses his legs in the center of his Lodge. Reaching out from his spirit he begins his daily ritual. Blaze spends the next half an hour in a meditative state, pondering how he might find his cousin, and the steps he may need to take to strike against the Megacorps in Calfree in his next run.

Leopard, grant me stregnth that I might free those people from their bondage. This quest is great, and just, those innocents must be protected, just as my family must. I have lost my mother, my father, and now I am losing my cousin and brother, please help me spare other families, other innocents from that fate.

Standing after completing the ritual Blaze feels the elation of Leopard's touch. Stepping from his lodge he walks home, planning for the meeting, and how he will protect the innocents of the camp.

1055 Saturday, January 6, 2063 - on the way

She's snagged her (only) leather coat she'd picked up before she crashed, she's stopped the cab twice to buy some jangling gold hoop earrings and clashing watch from two different streetside vendors, and now she's ....

1432 Saturday January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic

Stepping close enough to the women's bed for his thighs to brush against the metal guard rail Virgil gently scooped her right hand into his and leaned within the distance of a gentle whisper.

"Close your eyes and try to breath deeply as if you were falling asleep for the night."

As impatient as the women seemed before her restless seemed be melting away now that someone was going along with her wishes. At least she's cooperating, perhaps this will be less wracking of an experience than it usually is.

Virgil had to admit to himself that he'd never used this magic on a completley 'willing' target. He hoped down to his core and with all his might that only benefit would come to the women as she placed her trust in him, but in the end he just wasn't sure . . .and few things bothered the servants of Tyr greater than incomplete intelligence.

"As you drift off please welcome your dreams. Show a bold face to all the memories that we uncover together and remember, you are in perfact safety in this room."

With that Virgil began a soft humming. He didn't need to vocalize in order to weave the threads of the spell but the even rythm calmed his mind. Soon he could hear the deep breaths of the prone women synch in-time to his humming and at that point Virgil let his sight travel to the astral world. Grasping onto the strong threads of humanity and self-lessness that peameated the walls of the clinic he felt his free hand drift around the warm touch of Jerimiah's rosary. . .and with that he began his call.

22:15:59 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Seattle, UCAS

"When I possess I vehicle to bring, I will endeavor to do so, Miss."

Tenmou sits back and studies his surroundings, resolving himself to be led around for now. He resolved himself to ask Zeyda to investigate the Tacoma address. Something was terribly wrong with Miss Omura and he started wishing he had let compassion win out over paranoia when delivering her to that address.

22:22:08 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Seattle, UCAS

The ride is surprisingly short, just a few minutes down the road and the cab stops. Akiko throws open her door and steps out, moving towards the building without hesitation.

"Stay here, we'll be right back," she directs the cabbie. Tenmou hurries to catch up to her, noting that while she didn't wait for him, she expected that he would accompany her. He glances around in some confusion, as the cab has stopped in front of the East Tacoma Bus Depot. Once through the double glass doors, Akiko ignores the shuffling queue of passengers in front of the ticket window on her left as well as the snack bar and half a dozen tables on her right. She heads directly towards the four rows of lockers in the rear of the depot. It takes her only seconds to identify the correct unit, and she lifts a slim key attached to a braided steel wire loop from around her neck. She doesn't seem to care who might be watching as she opens the small locker, reaching inside and withdrawing a small plastic transport container, perhaps half the size of a standard attache case. She leaves the key hanging in the lock, moving past Tenmou without a backwards glance.

"Let's go."

The cab idles at the curb, meter still running. Settling herself in the backseat again, she places the transport container on her lap.

"3406 Recott Lane."

The cabbie nods, accelerating away into the chill night. Satisfied that the vehicle is headed in the right direction, Akiko unlatches the cover of the plastic container, revealing what appears to be a matte black pocket secretary nestled in a cushion of foam. From a pouch on the inside of the lid, she withdraws a white plastic business card before closing and latching the container again.

Silence invades the backseat of the cab again. Before, Tenmou would have attributed it to the woman's shyness and natural reticence in front of a stranger. Now, though, something else lurked behind her innocent exterior. He glanced outside, recognizing the edge of the Redmond Barrens.

Five minutes later, the cab pulled up in front of an abandoned Stuffer Shack. Again, Akiko instructs the driver to wait. Despite the impressive fare racked up on the meter, he looks distinctly unhappy at being in such a rough neighborhood. Any objection he may have felt like voicing, though, died beneath the harsh gaze of her emerald eyes. Tenmou flanks the woman, a step behind as she walks passed the Stuffer Shack and into the alley between it and the adjacent building. Halfway down, a steel firedoor hunkers in the dimness, illuminated by an overhead strip of LEDs. A small viewslit has been cut in the door, closed from the inside by a sliding metal plate. Akiko knocks on the door, producing not the hollow ring that Tenmou expected, but a dull thud indicating a fair amount of reinforcing behind the door. The viewslit opens, although the doorman remains shadowed and invisible. Akiko displays the front of the business card to the window. The viewslit closes, followed immediately by the sound of bolts being withdrawn, and the door swings open.

Beyond is a narrow hallway, lit by strips of red LED emergency lights. Tenmou catches a glimpse of the doorman as he moves back into the shadows. It is enough to reveal massive body modification, although not in the manner that he is familiar with. Instead of replacing bone and sinew with titanium and goretex, seeking to perfect the weaponry of the human body, this was neo-tribalism taken to an extreme, the ultimate expression of the body as a canvas.

"Beautiful, isn't he?" murmurs Akiko as the two move down the hallway. Tenmou doesn't reply, his eyes scanning ahead for a threat axis as well as hoping this place had a back door or some secondary exit.

The room at the end of the hallway is little more than another hall, this time twice as wide. Divided into narrow cubicles by folding plastic walls, a dozen (meta)humans sit slumped over in chairs, fiber optic cables dangling from temples. Moving to an unoccupied cubicle, Akiko sets the transport container on the narrow desk provided, unlatching the top again. Removing the object from inside the container, she unreels a cable from the top, plugging it into the dataport provided on the wall. Seating herself in the chair, she pulls a pair of cables from the opposite end of the device, slotting the narrow jacks into a pair of slots at the base of her skull, just below the hairline. With a slight shiver, her body goes limp.

Tenmou waits as minutes tick by, unnerved by the darkened room filled only by the harsh breathing of its occupants. The reek of industrial pollutants, hot plastic, and unwashed bodies permeates the air.

Akiko abruptly surges to life, back arched, arms tense and rigid, mouth open in a silent scream. Her eyes are open, pupils huge and dilated. As soon as it happens, it's over, and she collapses back into the chair, gasping for breath. Tenmou opens his mouth to ask if she's all right, but she cuts him off with a swift gesture. Reeling the cables back in to the black box, she returns the device to the transport container before latching the lid. Standing, she runs a hand across her forehead, a tired sigh escaping her lips. If possible, she looks even paler than before.

"We're finished here." She lurches towards the exit hall, momentarily unsteady on her feet. Stopping at the door, she accepts a blank OMC from doorman, pausing to run a hand across one chrome-inlaid cheek. Tenmou blinks as the moment ends, thinking for a second that the doorman actually bowed to her, but it must have been a trick of the light.

Outside in the alley, Akiko casually tosses the transport container into a pile of trash. Tenmou glances at it as the two move past, and isn't surprised when a hollow POP sounds from within. Back in the cab, Akiko again takes him off guard by leaning tiredly against his shoulder, her eyes closed.

"Take me home," she murmurs. Tenmou feeds the address to the driver, who heads back towards civilization with a relieved look on his face. Glancing back at his companion, Tenmou curses silently. A thin trickle of blood runs from her nose and is dripping off her chin onto his jacket.

22:41:04 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Seattle, UCAS

Tenmou rummages in a pocket trying to find kerchief to wipe away the blood. He comes up with a folded Kleenex and offers it to Akiko.

"Miss? Are you sure you're alright? You seem to be bleeding a little bit."

Tenmou listens to her breathing to make sure he didn't need to redirect the cabbie to a hospital.

22:41:31 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Seattle, UCAS

Akiko wipes her hand across her nose, staring tiredly at the red stain it leaves on her palm. With a soft sigh, she takes the kleenex from Tenmou and presses it against her nose to stop the bleeding.

"I'm fine. Just take me home."

After a moment, she holds out the OMC given to her by the doorman at the jackpoint coffins.

"Take this down to Worthington Dealership on East Washington tomorrow."

06:30:15 Jan. 6 2063 Elven District Seattle UCAS

Erebus stood at his window, watching the street lights fade and the early morning twilight color the scene, he sips his kaf and contemplates his next move.

Over the last two months he's spent almost all of his nest egg, establishing his identies, safe houses, and putting together his shadow network. If he had the time and the cred he'd spend another two months at it, getting a better feel for the shadows of Seattle, but he's out of nuyen and he can feel the clock ticking away in the back of his head. Its time he got to work.

He stayed still for another few seconds, watching the twilight play games with the shadows, one second hiding the ugliness of the metroplex in shadows, and the next second painting all the ugliness in stark glare. He always found it ironic that nature at sunrise and sunset could so artfully capture the essessence of his existence; light and shadow weaving together illusion and reality.

Erebus allowed the curtain to fall back into place, and moved back into his doss.

Enough day dreaming chummer, its time to get to work.

He grabbed his p-sec and hooked it in place on his belt clip, opposite the Beretta 200ST, his around the house gun. With the ease of long practice he slipped a datacable from the p-sec and snugged it into the datajack just above his left ear. It took less than a second to mentally activate the telecom function and dial Max's message number.

As usual Max's voice mail message is three informative seconds of silence followed by a beep. Erebus grinned, the human fixer knew his job but no one could ever accuse him of being overly friendly.

"Hoi Max, its Erebus, I need a couple of things. I'm looking for a weapons tech who can custom load some ammo for me. Gel rounds loaded with gamma-scopaline laced with DMSO. Also, I'm available for awhile, if you've got a Johnson who needs some muscle call me. I'm out."

Erebus cut the line, triggered the email function on his p-sec and drafted up a message to one of his contacts. While he waited for Max he could get started on another little project he had in mind.

Jennifer, its Erebus, I need some info if you have it. I'm looking for the name and basic contact data for a computer systems specialist. One of the people who work the linkages and software packages on mainframe networks. No one too high up the food chain, just one of the worker bees, like one of the guys who gets the job of going from site to site and tweaking upgrades and installations etc. Its nothing too hot, you get me the contact data and I'll do the legwork before contacting the specialist. If you know of some fine, it don't matter which corp they work for, but fragging zero exposure to you omae. You and I have some games to catch.

Erebus glanced at the display on his wristphone, just after 06:30:00, he'd have time for a shower and a light breakfast before meeting Ujio for their morning workout at 07:30:00. The young Elf flashed himself a feral grin in the dresser mirror on his way to the shower, it felt good to get back in the action.

14:00, Saturday January 6th, 2063 - Leathernecks Bar- Redmond Barrens- Seattle

Knight watched the clock hit the second hour of the afternoon, he sipped from his glass casually again and signalled the barman.

"You want to make another ten nuyen chummer?, Yes it is a rethorical question and not a difficult job"

The barman grunted something about having heard that all before

"You and me both chummer. Tell Jackson that Mr Knightington is here to see him, he may not know the name and I may be a little early, but he IS expecting me. You scan chummer?"

"Yeh, yeh, I scan" replies the barman

"Good" He holds the ten-yen note out on the bar and rests his glass on it. "Payment upon delivery."

With that Knight looks away to study the bar once more.

Now I wait and find out exactly what Calvin has set up for me

1401 Saturday January 6th, 2063 - Leatherneck's Bar - Redmond Barrens

Turning around on his stool Knight again takes stock of his surroundings. The interior of the bar looks to be built inside the front of a converted warehouse and is aptly decorated for the type of place catering to, what was the word? 'Local Color.' There were tables a chairs of various seating arrangements laid out along the walls of the bar framing out a central area that housed a pair of well-used billiard tables. Several trid screens dotted the walls each displaying a combination of local news and sports highlights.

The men sitting at the table in the far corner from the bar were still engaged in conversation, although the tone seemed to be more hushed than it was upon Knight's initial entrance. And was it his imagination or did the man who's position allowed him to face Knight keep checking him out. Turning back to face the last position of the bartender Knight reminded himself that he was in unfamiliar territory at the moment. He noticed the bartender near a door behind the bar mouthing words to himself. Guessing he must be on a subvocal mic.

Finishing his silent conversation the ork stepped back towards Knight and indicated that he should step behind the bar. "I am authorized to take you to your appointment now Mr. Knightington, please follow me."

"Very good chum." Knight replies as he finishes the last sip of his 'brandy' as they call it here. Rising off his stool Knight steps around the bar and follows the bartender as he steps through the flapping door positioned at the back corner of the space behind the bar. Falling into step behind the large ork Knight finds himself in a bare concrete hallway with sparse florescent lighting, several walk-in coolers line the hall undoubtley holding spare kegs of brew. Knight also notices that the ork is wearing a holtser at the small of his back containing a Colt Manhunter.

I wonder if that's a standard bartender's tool in this neighborhood.

About 20 feet down the end of the hallway lies the battered doors to an old freight elevator. But what really steals Knight's attention is the guard standing to the right of the elevator holding a suppressed MP-5 across his chest. As the they approach, the nameless guard he instantly straightens up and pulls open the heavy cage doors. "Going down sir!"

With a sharp nod to the guard, the ork jerks his head towards the elevator indicating that Knight should join him. Stepping on cautiously Knight is ready for the jarring sensation of the elevator as the ork punches a button on the similarly battered control panel. During the entire 60 seconds of their descent to what Knight guesses must be a storage cellar the large ork doesn't take his glaring stare off of Knight. Cracking a smile to ease some of the nervous tension, all the while keeping a cool demeanor, Knight is still glad when the elevator comes to a halt and the doors are pulled open from the outside.

Stepping out of the elevator Knight finds himself in a hallway identical to the one that he just left. Same bare concrete surfaces, same cooler doors lining the sides of the passage. The only addition was a steel door down at the end of the hall instead of an elevator, with a small table to its left. Knight also readily takes stock of the two additional guards in this hall, one down by the far steel door, and the other whom just opened the elevator. Both of them are wielding the same suppressed MP-5's.

The ork continues his upright pace down the hall and Knight falls in behind. He can feel the presence of the elevator guard a few paces behind him. Reaching the end of the hall the ork pulls a plastic mail-room tub and a black magneto wand off the top of the table and turns to face Knight.

"Of course you will need to be searched before proceeding any further. But perhaps you would like to volunteer any weapons you have on your person as a sign of good faith. All possesions will be returned to you on the conclusion of your appointment."

14:06, Saturday January 6th, 2063- Beneath Lethernecks Bar, Redmond, Seattle

Knight smiles and almost casually throws his coat open.

"All you had to do was ask chummer" he easily unbuckles Rosekiss from where she hangs within the coats interior, holding her in scabbard gentley he fastens the peace-bond cord about her hilts attaching her firmly to the scabbard and lays her out on the table. Reaching behind him he next draws forth the Cavalier Deputy from its holster. Idley he drops the cylinder and tilts his head to check the ammo count before that too ends up on the table.

"All done" he says with another easy smile depositing alongside the weapons his empty certified credstick and taking "of course feel free to wave your wand about a little and even check my pockets" the ork move forwards to comply with the routine security check much as Knight had expected.

It`s nice to know whoever this Jackson is he`s got some level of paranioa that dealing with the shadows for any length of time will give you Knight mused to himself as the ork began a pocket search of his coat. But i really hope its worth the hassle

A couple of minutes later, after the wand had been swept about his person twice and his coat thouroughly check, the ork grunted his satisfaction to Knight.

"Okay, yer clean"

"Of course " Knight replies in an almost bored tone, like he`s been through this a hundred times before. He quirks a brow as the Ork puts the wand back down "may we proceed?"

1407 Saturday January 6th, 2063 - Beneath Leatherneck's Bar - Redmond Barrens

Turning towards the steel door the ork banged the heavy material three times in succession before pushing it open and leading Knight into the room beyond.

Stepping over the threshold Knight found himself inside of a rather large office, judging by the space and furnishings he placed it as being more like a small conference room. There was a medium sized table with several wheeled chairs in the center, with a small projector in the center. A plethora of maps and charts lined the walls, on quick glance the looked to be different detailed views of what Knight imagined were various neighborhoods in Seattle, though he wasn't yet familiar enough with the city to guess which ones. In addition to the rather functional wall decor were two other hangings. On the wall at the rear of the conference table was a large UCAS flag and at the far end of the room adorning the wall behind a steel desk was a flag that Knight was surprised to see.

Perhaps this Jackson fellow has a taste for his heritage.

It was then that Knight's eyes lowered to focus on the man standing behind the desk, his arms crossed behind his back. Puncuating the brief moment of silence the ork barked, "Mr. Knightington reporting for his appointment sir!"

On cue the ork turned on his heel and exited the room pulling the door shut behind him. Looking at the man that Knight knew to be Jackson by now, every thing about this compound was starting to fall into place.

Jackson had to be a man of about years as revealed by his buzzed greying hair and ample age lines, yet the man still possed a powerful frame standing a hair over six feet and weighing about 115 kilos . . .all solid. What stuck Knight immediately was the air of authority and intimidation surrounding him, Jackson reminded him of several of the officers that made appearances in the Seelie court during his youth. Knight's eyes drifted across to the several glass encased medals propped up on the surface of the desk and though he couldn't not be sure exactly what each had been awarded for, one thing rang as crisp as the air outside . . .

This man is a war hero. A designation that crosses cultural barriers with quite a bit of ease.
Anyone that has led such a life till this age has to know what he's doing. Looks like Calvin put me in good hands.

At that moment Jackson's gravely voice seeps forth in a stern tone. " Welcome Mr. Knightington, please take a seat and state your business." His arm sweeping across the area of the conference table.

Not even a hint of request in his voice, but also no arrogance. Just the sound of a man who wants to get business done.

1434 Saturday January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic

Frag I hope this guy knows what he's doing. At least his asian friend is kind of cute, the strong masculine type. . probably a real bad-boy. I wonder why that women was so upset . . . .does anyone understand what the crazy troll-lady is saying?

Feeling the aura of all the residual healing performed at this clinic Virgil feels the extra spike of helpful mana easily propel him into the women's initial thoughts. Pausing for second he purposely moves about the women's mind slowly, perhaps hoping that keeping a slower thrust into her deeper thoughts will allow her time to acclimate to that must be the most alien feeling imaginable.

Keeping up the steady pace of his humming Virgil began to intersperse the pulses with several pieces of a salish wisdom chant. Though he was not a tribal shaman, Virgil found the impressions left on him by his tribal mentors to be inescapable. Not that he ever wanted to forget, because there was no denying the power of the salish secrets.

Steeling himself for the unexpected Virgil grabbed onto the thread left by the memory of her awaking in the morning, and began to follow it deeper into her mind . . .

1434 Saturday January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic

As the crest of mana seeped into the very walls caught and resonated to the totemic call, the woman gave a sharp gasp as Virgil was unexpectedly pulled deeper than he had intended //

-- A morning wakening yes, but not this morning, not with the sun sparkling liquidly through the shimmering warm rain and the warmer glittering unshed tears, and the hollow emptiness staring at the window, absence -- and the quiet vow through the aching and the hollowness and the hurt that she'd never let herself be so vulnerable again--

// echoing a lancing pain through both of them, the woman re-living, Virgil re-living right along with her, clinging to the structure granted by the wisdom chant as an anchor to this is me, this is she, this is what we seek, through the pain, yes, but also through the pain, healing. The resonance of the place understood the pain of healing, and in another sudden surge pulled him deeper yet //

-- young and pretty, dancing now just for this important one, letting the sheer cloth slide across her trim abdomen. Very important this human, oyabun they called him, the tattoos so heavy on him they spilled out to the backs of his hands where the cuffs ended. If he was pleased with her, he'd be her ticket to security. As she ended her dance she let the last of the cloth drape across those hands and slither to the floor, and saw with relief the tight smile on his face, and went to the special room he'd reserved with the management of the place and willingly let herself be locked into the ceiling manacles, until she caught the sharp shatter of light from the straight razor's blade, echoing the white from his teeth as he gently and systematically began to flay the skin from her body, and suddenly in a white flash she understood what "telephone" meant -- and again -- and again --

// she began to struggle now, crying out as the wisdom chant spiralled them both deeper and deeper, would have lashed out physically at him had Father Bremen not seized her arms, holding her as gently as possible down on the bed while Dragon moved to pin her legs. Not a sign of scarring on her ... not on her body //

-- arm twisted hard behind her, face almost ground against the clay-tiled floor. She'd been caught trying to run, and now she was going to die, and it came almost as a relief. The oyabun had stooped, holding her chin in his hand, forcing her to look up at him. Through the terror came a sudden clarity in which she was able to spit at him. She might die, she might die in pain, but they couldn't take that from her. Almost thoughtfully the oyabun dropped her chin, and she couldn't stop herself banging against the floor hard enough to bite through her lip. "Personality could use some adjustment," he said. "The techs will want to strengthen her heart too, this time -- I don't want her dying like the last one." He knelt, took her chin in one hand again: "And I want her to remember," he said levelly, staring into her eyes --

// staring up into Virgil's eyes. "Fuck you," she sobbed and tried to surge forward, the soaked hair stranding around the slight gleam of the carefully colour-coordinated jack at the base of her skull, but the two males had her securely, and she managed no more than the give of about an inch.

22:41:31 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Seattle, UCAS

Tenmou looks at the chip for a brief moment before lifting it from Akiko's hand.

"As you wish, Miss Omura."

Tenmou asks the cabbie to take them to her address as quickly as possible and allows Akiko to rest.

22:52:29 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Seattle, UCAS

The cab ride back to Akiko's apartment is uneventful. She continues to rest against Tenmou's shoulder even though the bleeding from her nose stops quickly. He can feel her steady breathing and the warmth of her body even as his attention is focussed outwards, against any possible threats. What began as a simple escort run had taken a bewildering and distinctly dangerous turn. Strangest of all would have to be the total personality shift that Akiko Omura had undergone.

Tenmou's train of thought was interrupted by the cab braking to a stop in front of Akiko's apartment building. Gently, he helped her from the rear seat, supporting her with an arm around the waist as she swayed on her feet. Guiding her inside the lobby, he watched as she slid the passkey for her apartment through the elevator call panel. With a slight shudder, Akiko managed to pull herself upright, and Tenmou stepped back a pace. The elevator chimed, the doors sliding open and she shuffled into the empty car. Turning, she keyed the button to her floor, glancing up to meet Tenmou's gaze with her unsettling emerald eyes.

"Saturday. 1900. Out front. Don't be late."

The doors slid closed.

0920 Tuesday, January 9, 2063 - Land's End Magic Shop

The fog of morning around Andie's mind begins to fade as he becomes more mentally awake. He walks through the curtain to the front of the store and notices Soloman stocking shelves with new merchandise.

He takes note of what the items being stocked; switching to his astral perception to examine them for anything unusual as the source of the astral storm last night.

"Good morning, Jack. I'm going to need to call someone to come by and strengthen the wards around the shop today. Some weird magic storm blew through last night and has decimated them. I'm surprised Sara didn't make them permanent since she's been here for the past 4+ years."

Andie then walks over to the store front wall and astrally looks at its integrity to see if it will still hold a ward. He then places places his hand on the wall, closes his eyes, and starts mumbling...

0920 Tuesday, January 9, 2063 - Land's End Magic Shop

"And teaching students about wards for more than that time," acknowledges Solomon, as the young mage confirms that no, none of the merchandise has been damaged, and yes, the walls will definitely still hold a ward -- and noting with some surprise just how many magical signatures are embedded therein. "She actually had to take down the permanent wards after the first month she started taking on pupils. Seems no lesson ever stuck as well as the one where someone forgot."

Andie hadn't remembered the window being quite that cold. Maybe there had been more than one spell linked in with the wards? Then he flung open the shutters -- get fully awake, get some light into the place, hand on the (cold!) wall, start to gather together the astral "feel" of this place in preparation for casting the warding -- and stared.

Seattle was white.

At first he thought it was fog, until he saw the thick white flakes sparkling against the light in front of Sara's shop. It was the only place he could make out anything -- the air was a cloud of fine white powder that found chinks in the windowframe and melted in his breath and frosted again against the cold panes. The sidewalk was white as far as he could see -- which wasn't very. Somewhere he heard a car alarm go off, its sound oddly muffled in the cold air.

"Have you had a chance to read through what I left for you?" asks Solomon. "Did you want the lease finalised today?"

"No," sighs Andie, turning away from the window and shifting his mind back into the structures of wards. "And probably yes, but give me a couple of hours."

And with that he begins the casting, and is left undisturbed to complete it.

1030 Tuesday, January 9, 2063 - Land's End Magic Shop

Andie finishes the ritual and watches astrally as the magical energy of the ward solidifies and expands out along the outer walls of the store; falling into place like it should. That will have to do for now, and pats the wall for reassurance.

Andie returns to the back of the store and checks on the circulation mix to make sure it's still stable. I definitely need a familiar, Andie thinks to himself.

Once the circulation batch is secured and percolating in the furnace Andie walks over to the workbench and reviews the lease agreement papers Solomon left for Andie last night, so he can give Jack an answer within the next couple of hours.

1130 Tuesday, January 9, 2063 - Land's End Magic Shop

The wall feels nice, and solid, unlike so much else around him; and cold, which restores it to Andie's reality.

I'll bet a couple of quickened spells went down as well.

As he'd started to gather last night, it's thorough -- especially for something pulled together so quickly. He'd be there still, trying to track the legal trails represented by the piles of documents, had he not finally (and with some gratitude) discovered the summary sheet.

Owner/landlord: Integra, since August 2062. Prior to that, Hidalgo Republic. In Solomon's handwriting was appended, in flowing steel-nib fountain pen: Control acquired by Integra in 2058, share majority circa 2062.

Past tenants: before 2058, Hidalgo Republic had been using its own warehouse for shipping. Again, Solomon's handwriting added: Contraband - California hots. It had sat vacant for a couple of years after that, apparently at one point acquiring some squatting Cutters who'd since been busted by Lone Star on charges of weapons smuggling (July 13, 2059, added the handwriting, and Hidalgo not involved). Somewhat to his surprise, he found a copy of the police report buried among the piles of paper in the file. Andie blinked at the next one: Integra ran a paper publishing industry? in this day and age? Dog Fanciers Monthly? Quite a large circulation though, well into the tens of thousands (Solomon had hand-circled it, with a question mark) and scattered across the UCAS, CAS, CFS, and NAN, to judge by the distribution office addresses. The magazine had officially folded last November, when it had been bought out by a publishing company in California. Since then, the warehouse had sat empty.

Real estate taxes: fell within what Andie had been expecting. Ditto zoning: with the handwritten comment that it should be straightforward to have it altered to Andie's needs.

The real estate agent had gotten his diploma in ... Andie fast-forwarded over details of schooling and licensing to the notation: no complaints on file.

Details of lease: first and last, standard utilities independent, 3k service charge extra to take care of all zoning alterations, no key moneys required, no additional transfer taxes (covered by the leasor, noted Solomon, along with Very reasonably costed for what you are getting, with a full and legal paper trail. Need it to be rented quickly? Caveat emptor.)

Andie gets up, a bit stiff after trying to go through all that. Contract law isn't engineering equations, or spell formulae for that matter. "Caveat emptor?" he asks, sticking his head through the curtain. "Is this thing on the level or isn't it?"

Solomon shrugs. "There is an old business adage that posits three related conditions: quality, time, cost. The going wisdom is that you can have two out of the three, but not all three. In this case you are able to obtain a quality building, when you want it, at reasonable cost; and every part of the paper trail checks out ... It would be a fairly safe bet to suggest that you will not find this kind of opportunity again quickly. And at least you will know from the beginning with whom you are dealing."

1130 Tuesday, January 9, 2063 - Land's End Magic Shop


Andie considers the deal before him about the new location and decides it's worth the risk.

"Alright, Solomon. Let's sign the lease papers and get this ball rolling. What do we do next?? Is the lease agreement through you or the real estate agent I talked to about the property??"

1130 Tuesday, January 9, 2063 - Land's End Magic Shop

"As of now," and Solomon holds out the lease papers, indicates where Andie is to sign, "I have your signature. As to the rest of the lease details, I will take care of those. And if you have a workable floorplan, I will be able to have that started today as well. Well," with a glance at the window, "maybe tomorrow."

14:10 Saturday January 6th, 2063 - Jackson`s Office - Redmond Barrens

Knight took to the seat, flipping his coat back nonchalantly as he did so. Stretching a little back into the chair he looks up at Jackson, his eyes twinkling like twin emerald stars from the light spilling off lamp on the man`s desk.

"Thank you, Mr Jackson. " he speaks again letting his soft cultured and lyrical tones roll freely. A small smile cuts across his lips. "My business is a simple matter, in such that it is whatever you wish it to be. I`m a freelancing mage, I dont ask un-necessary questions and I dont leave an electron trail on the Matrix. But of course you will already know that, from my associate who sent me to you. No doubt. "

Knight pauses and sits up a little, letting the chair support only his shoulders now. He folds his hands neatly across his chest and quirks a brow studying Jackson for a few moments. He lets his perceptions slip from the meat world into the astral to take in the true measure of this man. As his Sight probes Jackson`s aura he speaks again.

"So it seems, Mr Jackson, the real question being asked is from me to you and that is.... `What is my business?` " he smiles again waiting for the man`s response, studying him with his mage`s eyes intently.

1436 Saturday January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic

His stomach knotting and chest clenching as her pain seeped into his mind Virgil desperately held onto the line of mana that had taken him so far, so very fast. Caught off guard by the aura of this place once he steeled himself before yanking back on the threads as his chant of power worked towards a crescendo.

I must heal without harm. Diving straight down to the depths of her being is not the right path here.

Sensing the pull of the clinic's mana curtailing itself for but a moment in response to his command, Virgil seized upon the brief chance to perhaps control his descent before any damage was done. The aura of the clinic had created a stronger mental bridge then Virgil had ever experienced before, and sensing a small chance to calm the women's now struggling mind Virgil began flooding his mind with memories of searching the rubble of the burnt out building in Auburn.

Experiencing again the panicked sensation he had felt as he cast ash and stone aside in a desperate attempt to locate her form Virgil felt his heart race. Remembering the honor with which the nameless Doc Wagon mage had acted as he tried to mend her broken body, Virgil felt again the hope that came only from watching an act of selfless kindness.

It was these thoughts the he attempted to force across the mental bridge. Thoughts to show the women in his care exactly how many people had been willing to help her . . .. and were still willing to help her.

I can only right a wrong once that demon has been cast out into the light. Hold my hand. . . walk with me . . .and tell me your name. . . you shall not be alone.

1436 Saturday January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic

There is so much secret pain in every person, came Carlos Whitefeather's calm voice in his mind, so much they try to hide, even from themselves. Our brothers of the plains have a saying, that to seek to master the ways of a mind is like trying to ride a wild horse. You can let him carry you where he will, and maybe he will exhaust himself and submit, or maybe he will kill himself in the running. You can force mastery upon him at the first, and you will get the servant you seek, and maybe you will break his spirit forever. Or you can let him run a little where he will before setting the bridle on him carefully, and make it so that where he wills is where you will.

Somewhere in the back of Virgil's awareness he sensed eyes upon him. He didn't break concentration. Quite the contrary. The mana he had unleashed was a wild stallion in his mind, eager to pull him back into the swirl of raw memory, raw emotion. The stillness in that gaze allowed him to step back a little from the mental bridge he had set up, set himself aside a little.

From behind him, where Dragon had left her to help hold the woman down, Tiffany continued dispassionately to watch.

1436 Saturday January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic

Dammit to the ninth hell, or something like that Dragon thought to himself. This cannot be a good thing. I have a sinking feeling that this chick isn't just some random fire victim, because she's freaking out like she's possessed or something. I mean, I'm not too familiar with this magic junk, but still, this seems a little extreme of a response...

Glancing behind him at Tiffany , he kept thinking, speaking of extreme responses, she's way too calm for what she was walking in here. I hope she's not just burying it so she doesn't have to deal, because that could haunt us down the road. Deciding to at least try to do something about it, he gently asked (while keeping a firm grip on the woman), "Hey, you're a little quiet over there. You ok?"

"I'm fine," she replied, a little too quickly, too easily. "You can be honest you know. You're pretty shaken up. It's been that kind of day," he replied, with a tired smile, gesturing with his head towards the woman that Virgil was even now still trying to help. "I guess now's really not the time to talk about it, but don't just bottle it all up, you know?"

1131 Tuesday, January 9, 2063 - Land's End Magic Shop

Andie hunts around his work area for the floor plan sketch he drew earlier and hands it to Solomon. "Here's a rough idea of the floor plan I was thinking about. We'll have to phase in some of this since I don't have enough money right now to do all of it in one whack. Unless, of course, your willing to loan me the money and save yourself some work in the future." Andie turns to Solomon and pauses for effect; skeptical Solomon would agree to such a suggestion, but you never know.

He turns back to the sketch and points out, "I was having a difficult time trying to come up with storage space for inventory though. We may need to cut the living area in half and use it for storage for the shop's supplies. What do you think??"

23:03:12 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Seattle, UCAS

Tenmou bowed a farewell to Akiko before stepping into the back seat of the cab one last time and asking the cabbie to drive him to an apartment complex near his home.

He slumped into the seat and closed his eyes, trying to center himself after this evening's experiences. His eyes opened up again as he felt the cab come to a stop.

He reluctantly opened his eyes and grabbed his credstick. He winced when he saw the tally he had racked up on the meter, but paid the cabbie his fare as well as a sizeable tip, almost in apology for leading him all around Seattle.

Stepping out of the cab, he walked toward the apartment complex until the cab had rounded a corner, when he redirected himself towards his home.

1135 Tuesday, January 9, 2063 - Land's End Magic Shop

Solomon studies the sketches in silence for several minutes. "I am no architect," he says at last, "but I do not see any halls? or doors? If they are not in any load-bearing walls, the doors can be roughed in later, but ... is this intended to be open-concept?"