14:02:27 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - SRS Medical Systems, Redmond

Scrapheap's mouth opened as he prepared to repeat the question, the pressure he applied to the man's knuckle nearing the breaking point.

From the corner, muffled inside the mound that was his armored jacket, his cellphone began to ring.

What the frag? Ignore it, old man. Keep your mind on your work. Yeah, but maybe it's Max. What if he's heard sumthin' new? Frag it. This chump ain't goin' nowhere.

*CRUNCH*

Scrapheap stood as the man began to scream. "That's for not answering. If you're not ready to talk when I get back, I'll start on your teeth. That don't work, I'll move south."

He dug the cheap cell out of his jacket and checked the display. It was a number he didn't recognize. He went over to the door and knocked. After a second it opened, #2 looking first at him, then at where the goon writhed in pain. "Watch 'im. I gotta take this."

After the bodyguard replaced him in the interrogation room, Scrapheap walked a short distance down the hall before flipping open the phone. "Go."

14:03:08 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - SRS Medical Systems, Redmond

Hesitation, not audible but felt, along with a tap tap tapping that feels as though it should be familiar but isn't, not where Scrapheap's at right now.

Finally, just as he's about to hang up in irritation, Rosa's voice: "Is this a bad time?"

21:55:41 Monday 08 January 2063 – Domain, 810 Bishop St, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS

Vedic didn’t expect Domain to be too crowded on a Monday night, but the line was still a dozen deep at the door. Exiting the warm interior of the car, he stepped around to the passenger side, holding the door for Lilith, who shivered in the wintery chill. Locking the car behind them, he reached up and clipped the chain lead to the ring in her collar, the other end held in his hand. Her eyes followed his hands, remaining downcast when he turned and lead her towards the club. The bouncer at the door picked them up as they crossed the street towards the end of the line, motioning to Vedic. He frowned, but altered course towards the front door.

“Good evening, sir.”

“Good evening,” Vedic replied, adrenaline filling his system as he held the door for Lilith. He didn’t know anyone here, why would they make an exception for him unless it was a trap? No ambush waited for them in the darkened entrance, though, only the pair of hostesses taking coats and cover. Vedic paid for himself and Lilith, leading her deeper into the smoky, laser lit interior. Bodies writhed on the dancefloor, as well as the half dozen stages scattered through out the club, displaying all manner of wanton surrender. He drew her to the side and up a short flight of stairs. A heavy set man in full leather glanced at him twice before making room at the railing. Vedic scanned the dance floor before turning back to Lilith. He trailed his fingertips across her cheek again, leaning close.

“What are the rules?”

“Obedience, respect, honesty, Sir,” she replied. He smiled, unhooking the leash from her collar.

“Dance for me.”

Lilith smiled, brushing her cheek against his hand before turning to the dance floor. Vedic coiled the chain lead in his hand, watching her. The bass was enough to shake the fillings from your teeth, the electronic and industrial rip over it, fiery. Resting his hand on the railing, Vedic let it wash over him. This was music to hunt by, to thin the weak from the herd, to circle before making the final slashing kill.

16:16:24 Monday, 08 January, 2063 - The depths of the Ork Underground

Tin Star pauses. "I got good news and bad news on that part. Which you want first?"

She thinks about it for a moment, then decides not to answer, letting her silence speak for her. He waits a moment, but doesn't really seem surprised. "Deckers are pretty busy these days. I got a lead on a guy, might have a really strong interest in the job. I couldn't get at the why, but way I hear, it might be something personal. Now that isn't a for sure, but it's enough of a possibility that I think if we told him what we want, he'd be in."

"The downside is, the guy won't be available to meet until later this week, maybe Friday or Saturday. I could try to get us a meet with a someone earlier in the week, but they might not be as good. Or as motivated. What do you want me to do?"

16:17:40 Monday, 08 January, 2063 - The depths of the Ork Underground

Friday, Saturday. Not what she'd been hoping for, not at all -- but then again the major fixed time limitation had been the parameters they'd set up with Tin Star. If he set up the later meet, certainly he'd then be aware that the schedule had been bounced back accordingly. After all, it only gives him that much more time to establish a solid cover.

And she has an audience, this end, which she doesn't care for, not at all. Still, it can't be helped.

"Two-part it," she says at last. "We're data-short, sic the early guy on it, one-off only. That one's all yours. As for Man Friday, set it up, let me know. It's not like I ain't got things to do here," she adds with a grin that's as much for her audience as the one on the other end of the phone.

14:03:41 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - SRS Medical Systems, Redmond

"Rosie?" The sound of her voice snapped everything back into focus, and John looked down at the bloody pliers in his hand somewhat sheepishly. He hid them behind his back, as if she could see them, and moved a little further down the hallway.

He almost told her that he'd call her back, that he was too busy, but the tapping had resumed. He remembered the last time he heard it, the memory springing to mind unbidden...

Cole stared out the window into the rainy Seattle night, a nearly empty bottle of synthahol dangling from his right hand. It had become a nightly routine, a pitiful race to see if he could empty enough of the bottle before Etta's screaming started. He was winning tonight; he could hardly stand.

He slowly became aware of a tapping noise behind him, only to realize that it had been going on for the past several minutes. He turned unsteadily to find the source, only to tangle his feet together and stumble. He reached out to steady himself with his left hand, only to find the floor rushing up to meet him. After a brief flash of pain and static his vision cleared and he watched as his bottle of Senior Soy tequila rolled slowly away, spilling its remaining contents onto the hardwood floor.

Pushing himself painfully to his knees, Cole looked down to where his left arm, the one he'd had replaced in '51 after it was blown-off in a run gone bad, ended just below the shoulder in a jagged mess of plastic, metal, and wiring. The result of another run gone bad. He could have removed the wrecked arm at the joint, he knew how, but it didn't seem worth the trouble; didn't seem to matter. He smiled at his own stupidity. The tapping continued.

He looked over to where Rosa sat at the breakfast bar, watching him, her expression unreadable, though the tapping of her nails against the granite countertop told the story. Her eyes were red, puffy, but she wasn't crying now. She rarely did. He cleared his throat, spoke slowly and carefully, as people trying not to sound drunk often do. "You put Nora to bed?"

Her voice was flat. "Yes, Cole. I held her as she cried herself to sleep. Again. Not that you seem to care."

Forcing himself to stand, Cole said nothing. He stood carefully, swaying in place, looking for something to steady himself against. It took a second for him to remember that the room was empty, the furniture sold to pay bills. He looked back towards Rosa, thinking to take the stool next to her, when he realized that a large duffle and backpack were placed on the floor near her seat.

"Rosie?"

The tapping stopped. "I can't take it anymore, Cole. It's too much! Look at you! Look what you're doing to yourself."

"Rosie, I..."

"I was there too, Cole. I went through the same thing, saw the same things. Gary and Dale were my friends too. I thought we'd be OK, even after Finn disappeared, because we had each other. I needed you, Cole. I thought you'd need me too. But you pulled away, stopped talking to me, stopped sleeping. And the drinking... You need help, Cole. Real help."

She stood, gathered her things. "But I won't be here. Like I said: I can't take it. I'm going home, Cole. Back to LA." She walked to the door, opened it, paused. Looking back, she spoke in a quiet voice, "Deep down I hoped you'd try to stop me. Take care of Nora."

Cole stood unsteadily, staring at the door long after Rosa had left. When Etta began screaming, as she did every night since they'd rescued her, Cole realized he'd lost. Again.

"Cole? Are you still there? I asked if this was a bad time?" ...tap...tap...tap...

Though he couldn't see why she'd be ticked at him now, John realized that the tapping was a clear sign he'd have to handle the situation with care. He grinned, hoping it would come through in his voice. "Nah, Rosie. I was in the middle of somethin' but it's never a bad time ta talk to you. I was gettin' worried though. I called a while ago. Everything OK?"

14:04:15 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - SRS Medical Systems, Redmond

To Scrapheap's relief, the tapping eases off ... although it doesn't stop completely. He'll have to handle this carefully indeed: Rosa's always had a knack for picking up the shapes of hidden things. His mouth twists slightly as it occurs to him that this whole interrogation would have been much easier had she called him back sooner (and why wasn't she calling from her own phone?): but then he wouldn't have called her into this, would he?

No. She's already made it clear that she has her business, her life. Leave her as clear as possible of the wreckage of his own. Unwarranted advice column from the kids notwithstanding.

"I was about to ask you the same question. The message I got ..."

She'd trailed off, leaving him to try to reconstruct uneasily just what he'd asked of her. Abruptly Rosa shifts to a much more familiar matter-of-fact: "John, just what, exactly, do you need? besides a more reliable phone, that is? Be specific."

14:05:56 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - SRS Medical Systems, Redmond

John was just about to tell Rosa that he'd already told her what he needed when he left the message, when a couple of things occurred to him at once. One was that he couldn't remember actually leaving a message, at least on her private line. Cheryl's call had interrupted. The other was that she'd called him "John." He wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Sorry, Rosie, I left a message at your office. Thought I'd done the same on this line, but maybe I forgot or somethin.' Basically, I made a deal with a guy that if he helps me find Nora, I'll help him find who he's lookin' for. He's awakened, so he thinks he can track 'em with a ritual. Problem is, he's a shaman and we can't find any shaman's willing to help."

John could hear tapping again. This time, though, he wasn't sure if it was her fingernails or Rosa tapping her glasses against her teeth. If asked, he didn't know if he could articulate the difference, but he knew that there was a difference. Then it paused. "I'm not a shaman. You know that."

"No, I know. I was just hopin' that, well, maybe you could loan me one."

"Loan you a person?"

"Yeah. Like one of your Firebird employees. You got shamans workin' for you, right? Loan, hire, whatever. I just need to know if you got somebody can help this guy do this ritual."

14:06:15 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - SRS Medical Systems, Redmond

This time the answer comes quickly enough that Scrapheap knows at least some of the earlier message had gotten through: "You do realise that you don't necessarily need another shaman to work this ritual of your friend's."

Matter-of-fact. Nor had it been shaped as a question ... although Scrapheap in point of fact hadn't realised that. His partner of necessity, who'd seemed to know what he was talking about, had suggested otherwise; but he's hesitant to contradict Rosa in this mood she was in, never mind that he'd trust her knowledge of her craft with his life -- had, more than once.

"As it happens, I do have someone who can help you. Where and when."

Scrapheap waits for more to be forthcoming. It doesn't.

10:41:12 (13:41:12 EST) Friday 12 January, 2063 - Atlanta, Georgia, CAS

"The story is ancient history. This is modern times. People do what they have to do to survive. Why are you calling me now?"

10:41:45 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Capitol Hill Terrace, Apt 203. 1404 E. 14th Ave, Capitol Hill, Seattle, UCAS

"Oh, the usual. Check on the weather, how are the folks, got a new operator in town and I need to run it down. Oh yeah, to tell you if I've found your number, others might have." Tony said conversationally, expecting more of an outburst from Salvo. He's got more of a handle on that temper now.

14:06:53 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - SRS Medical Systems, Redmond

"When an' where?" John repeated, caught off guard. He was anxious to get this done and remembered Max might be travelling, so knew it had to be today. He wasn't sure how long the meeting with the Wongs would take, and he had that other thing later...

"How about 20:30 at Loveland Quinn's? In back. I'll be there with the shaman who's helpin' me with Nora. If thing's change, time or location, what number should I call? I'm not sure who's number this is, but should I use it or one I already know?"

14:23:40 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - The Respite Soup Kitchen, Touristville

Having showered, Max had changed into a pair of tan dockers style pants, and slate-gray sweater, trimmed in charcoal. He still wore the form fitting body armor underneath, but his clothing hid it well. He checked his voice mail again and listened to the message John had left.

The trip back to the Respite was quick, now that the weather seemed to be taking a turn for the better. He parked his Westwind in his usual spot down an alley on the east-side of the building. The alley usually stayed deserted, since Gloom didn’t really take kindly to visitors, but he and Max had hit it off fairly well. Maybe it was Max’s innate charm, but more than likely it was the fact that Gloom took a perverse pleasure in scaring off the locals that strayed a little to close to Max’s ride. Max thumbed the remote to activate the cars security systems after retrieving his gym bag full of gear. The kids from Twiggy’s gang were still manning the doorway, that had finally been repaired enough to be functional. The lookouts nodded when he approached but didn’t say anything or try to stop him when he opened the refitted door. The Respite was almost looking back to normal. The broken tables had been removed and a number of SINless had already filtered in. Trancer was in the back talking to some of the younger members of the gang and Max could hear Melina’s voice issuing orders from the kitchen. By the looks of it she had managed to call in all of the full-time kitchen workers (There weren’t many.) and enlisted the gangers when she was running short on hands.

“Hey Max you missed all of the fun.” Trancer must have looked up from talking to his friends and spotted Max. His voice was full of youthful excitement. “Maverick” Young from INN news was here taking vid for a story on Keira. “

“Yah, I kind of thought he might show up. You guys kept Twiggy out of sight, right?”

“Yup, Mom locked him upstairs in Keira’s room. Man he was ticked. Maverick’s wiz! Did you know he was actually filming on the pitch during last season’s SuperBrawl?”

Max chuckled to himself…Marcus loved to tell that story. It was actually a very good piece of journalism, but he would never give Marcus the satisfaction of knowing he thought that.

“Any word on Keira yet?”

Trancer’s mother Melina had appeared through the kitchen door, her face was worried and a bit haggard.

“No Melina, not yet. John and I have a couple of leads, but I won’t know anymore until this evening. I have about a half and hour before John gets back. Do you need any help?

“Good God yes!” Melina exclaimed. “I don’t know how she does it.”

“You're doing just find, where do you need me most?”

“Here take this to table two over there.” She hands a couple of plates to Max while nodding to a table in back, where a couple of old homeless men were sitting. “Then meet me in the kitchen.”

16:18:31 Monday, 08 January, 2063 - The depths of the Ork Underground

Tin Star pauses for a moment, presumably sorting through the cityspeak and code. Finally he says, “OK I got it. You want the early guy to go get what the decker was supposed to get us before he dropped I take it.”

A curt, “Yes,” is all the answer she’ll give, in her persona here and now. He understands, that’s enough. Without further formality, they disconnect, leaving her alone with her trainer once again in the depths of the Ork Underground.

14:07:16 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - SRS Medical Systems, Redmond

"I remember. Don't worry," and now a light amusement shows through the earlier data-seeking professionalism, "it's just another of my regular numbers. I'll be at this phone for the duration. It's as secure as any of the others."

14:07:33 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - SRS Medical Systems, Redmond

John grinned. "A'ight. Just checkin.'"

"Mmm-hmm. Anything else?"

"Yeah, I just had a thought. The chummer who's helpin' me? The shaman? I'm thinkin' maybe you should talk to him. You know, for Firebird."

"And why would I want to do that? Are you a fixer now too?"

"Ha! Nah, it's just...he's a good guy. And not like he'll loan ya money or water your plants, but he's good. Ya know? A citizen. I think he's headin' for the shadows, and I don't think it's for him. He seems more uptown."

He could hear tapping again, but this time it was definitely her glasses. "OK, but why should I be interested?"

"Well, like I said: he's class. Good dresser. Good talker. Smart. Educated. He's some sorta parazoology expert or some fraggin' thing. And a shaman. Anyway, maybe you could use him, or at least check him out. Seems like he'd be better off helpin' people than, how'd you put it, 'sloggin' through some sewer or alley.' It ain't for everybody, right?"

10:42:03 (13:42:03 EST) Friday 12 January, 2063 - Atlanta, Georgia, CAS

"If they didn't know before, they'll know now. But I was keeping this line of communication open for you. It's about time you called me. When are we going to get Priest?"

15:00:00 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - The Respite Soup Kitchen, Touristville

After about a half hour of non-stop helping, Max had a new respect for just how much Keira did to make it possible for this place to even run. He’d been washing dishes, serving food, cleaning up, and generally doing as much as possible to help Melina out. Working in the ivory towers of academia was definitely a far cry from preparing him to get dirty down in the Soup Kitchens of Redmond, that was for sure.

At exactly 14:58:00, Tyler came into the kitchen to get him, as he’d asked the ganger to do. “Yo Max, it’s almost 15:00:00. That news report you said you wanted to watch is going to be on any minute.”

“Thanks Tyler.” Wiping his hands clean, Max went out to the communal area where several gangers were lounging around, playing cards and chatting, taking a well deserved break from all their hard work of the past day or two of trying to get The Respite back in order.

Turning his attention to the trid, he saw the channel was already changed to INN News, and Megan quickly shushed the crowd. “Quiet you guys! That Maverick guy’s report will be on any minute!” Quieting down, the gangers turned their attention to the trid just as the clock ticked to 15:00:00.

Everyone waited anxiously for Maverick’s face to appear on the trid, even Trancer and Melina, who had also made their way over to watch.

Instead of Maverick’s roguish face showing up at 15:00:00 however, a picture perfect corporate talking head type appeared on the screen, pearly white teeth sparkling as she smiled for the camera.

“Good afternoon, thank you for watching INN News, where we bring you the latest in news, all day, all the time. This is Sally Smith, where we bring you live breaking coverage of a press conference addressing the scandal that is rocking the international singing sensation Ashley Simpson,”

A caption appears at the bottom of the screen, stating: ‘No relation to the late Ashlee Simpson of the early 2000s’ “who has been accused of lip syncing at this year’s Super Bowl.”

Sally continues blathering on about nothing as everyone looks around confusedly. “Hey Max! What happened to Maverick’s story?” one of the gangers calls out. The general question is echoed, and the professor can feel his normally even temper rising.

It doesn’t help that Sally says, “We go live now to our entertainment expert, John Robinson. John, what do you think these accusations will do to Ashley’s career?”

The screen splits to reveal a serious looking middle-aged man, dressed in the latest fashion, folding his hands and looking solemnly into the camera. “Well Sally, these are very serious accusations. I mean, if she really did lip sync at the Super Bowl, what else has she lip synced at? Are her albums even hers? Can we be sure that she’s really the one putting together her music?”

“That sounds serious John. What will the public think of this? The fans have at least been thinking of spending millions of nuyen on her albums, even if they’ve been doing pretty badly to date. Her first album didn’t do so well, and with her second one on the way, do you think the fans will feel cheated?”

“Well Sally, her first album, as we all know, wasn’t well received by the fans. If they think it’s not even hers, I hate to think how they’ll respond to the next one.”

“What the frag is this drek?!?!?!?!” Megan shrieks, chucking a pillow at the trid. “What about Keira? Who the frag cares about Ashley fragging Simpson?”

No one answers, for a moment, and in the silence that follows, Max’s phone rings. He looks down and sees that it’s Maverick calling. Angrily, he stabs the ‘talk’ button, venomous thoughts about ready to boil over in his mind. The reporter beats him to it however, because as soon as Max answers, he hears, “Drek eating motherfragging devil rat hooped son of a slitch!”

Before the professor can respond, Maverick rambles on, “I’m so fragging sorry Max. I was all set to go and not five minutes before I was supposed to go on, they pulled the fragging story. What the frag kinda story is this chummer? What’s really going on here? Why the frag would someone with jam come down to my boss and pull the fragging story of a fragging kidnapping of a fragging social worker!?”

10:43:10 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Capitol Hill Terrace, Apt 203. 1404 E. 14th Ave, Capitol Hill, Seattle, UCAS

Nice. Way to rub it in Tony said, a wave of guilt washing over him from last night with Reign. Trying to push it down, and maybe succeeding in his voice at least, "I just found out yesterday for sure, same as I got your number. Why haven't you gotten her out yet? What do you have down there?" Tony replied, trying to keep his voice neutral and adding a bit of edge on the last question.

Unknown Time Friday 12 January, 2063 - Unit 303, Winlock Apartment Complex, Tacoma

Too bad for James, his much needed rest was interrupted when he was roused out of bed at an unknown time by his phone ringing. Blearily, he turned towards the telecom and hit the 'talk' button. Staring at him was a face he didn't recognize, but even his sleep-addled brain could tell the person was obviously anxious.

"Hey, you're the guy they call The Eyes, right? Don't hang up!" The person said, holding up their hands. "If you're wondering how I got a hold of you, it was through The People's University. I gotta talk to you. Can we meet somewhere?"

10:43:21 (13:43:21 EST) Friday 12 January, 2063 - Atlanta, Georgia, CAS

"This is a job that requires finesse, a word that doesn't exist in my dictionary. You were the tactician of the group. I'm just the muscle. So let me ask you again, brains, what are we going to do about Priest?"

10:43:40 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Capitol Hill Terrace, Apt 203. 1404 E. 14th Ave, Capitol Hill, Seattle, UCAS

"Me the brains? The humidity down there must be getting to you. Ok, I can play that part. Get me everything you've got on Corcoran, and where she's at in it. I need information for a plan, and I haven't been to Georgia since Dunkelzhan was making new shows. Why are you so hot to get her out anyway? Y'all didn't get along all that well Tony said.

10:43:55 (13:43:55 EST) Friday 12 January, 2063 - Atlanta, Georgia, CAS

"Corcoran is in Cal Free, about two hours north of Los Angeles. She's being held in the maximum security awakened section. The file will be enroute momentarily. I figured you'd be the one asking since you're the reason she's in there."

10:44:02 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Capitol Hill Terrace, Apt 203. 1404 E. 14th Ave, Capitol Hill, Seattle, UCAS

Calfree?"And what do you mean by that? I had nothing to do with that frag-up. Time to start leveling with me, Salvo." Tony said, voice hardening while his brain was racing. What the drek was she doing in Calfree?

10:44:18 (13:44:18 EST) Friday 12 January, 2063 - Atlanta, Georgia, CAS

"About a month after you went to ground, she went looking for you. Had some kind of personal crisis. She left a message for me that I didn't get until six months later when I came up for air. By then it was too late. She'd hooked up with a smuggler team, running cross border ops from Cal Free into Denver. The way I see it is she was looking for you, but when she couldn't find you, she took the next best thing to come along. Turned out to be a bad decision. The team got burned down on the backside of a run into LA, and the Star pinned a triple homicide on her. It was a setup, everyone knew it, but runners don't get rights and the Star is paid to get results. That's as much as I know."

10:45:00 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Capitol Hill Terrace, Apt 203. 1404 E. 14th Ave, Capitol Hill, Seattle, UCAS

Massaging his eyes with the heels of his hands, Tony couldn't bring himself to look at the half-blank, half blathering screen on the telecom. After sitting in silence, listening to the tale, he spoke, still leaning forward on his palms,"Sorry 'bout that. he said in a low voice. Leaning back on the couch, he said louder "Shoot that file over and give me a way to contact you. That is, if you want in on this..

15:05:00 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - The Respite Soup Kitchen, Touristville

"Frag!"

Max rarely swore, but this seemed like a really good time to start.

"I don't know Marcus, but I know it takes a lot to get a liberal news station like INN to censor a report. Have you tried to find out who make the call to take it off the air?

"No." Marcus sounded like a kid that had just had his candy taken away from him. If Max wasn't so angry he may have found it funny. "I haven't found anything out yet. Nobody is talking."

"Do what you can do. I know you have friends in Shadowland. Can you funnel or story there and see if anyone there has an opinion?"

"Oh they all have opinions there." He said sarcastically. "But ya, I'll see what I can do. Jesus Max what have you stumbled on to. Somebody with some serious pull doesn't want your friend to be found."

"Yeah, Its beginning to look worse, but hey if this person doesn't want the story run maybe that means she is still alive. A dead body could be dumped with no one the wiser, but a live one needs to remain hidden. Let me know if you can dig up who gave the word to pull your story."

"Will do. Be careful Max."

"You too, Marcus."

'People have been saying that to me a lot lately.'

"Who was that Max? What did they say?" Melina looked concerned.

"That was Maverik. Somebody on high had his story pulled. It looks like we struck a nerve somewhere. I guess the good news is that it may mean Keira is still alive. I mean there has to be a million ways in Seattle to dispose of a body without anyone ever knowing, but if she is still alive, who ever took her wouldn't want anyone looking for her."

"I hope so." She said before ushering the gangers that had gathered around the trid back to work.

'Yeah me too. Now where the hell is John? If he doesn't get here soon I will have to meet the Wong's without him.'

14:08:28 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - SRS Medical Systems, Redmond

"He sounds a bit specialised;" but based solely on his own evaluation her tone had turned considering, and Scrapheap holds back the instinct to try to sell the shaman on her further, respecting the space to make up her own mind.

Finally, "I'll keep him in mind," she says firmly, no further room for negotiation, meaning she'll first have him checked him out through her own network and whatever other hoops she runs her own employees through. She doesn't place her trust easily, but when she does, it's absolute. And when it's betrayed ...

"Was there anything else, Cole ?"

10:45:22 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Capitol Hill Terrace, Apt 203. 1404 E. 14th Ave, Capitol Hill, Seattle, UCAS

"If I want in. Heh. You couldn't do this without me, Hillbilly. Where do you want to rendezvous?"

Tony watches as text scrolls across his terminal.

*Double Post*

10:45:27 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Capitol Hill Terrace, Apt 203. 1404 E. 14th Ave, Capitol Hill, Seattle, UCAS

I'm gonna need a fragging army Tony thought, seeing the list of officers at the prision. "Just stay put right now. You got anyone you know over in Calfree?"

Unknown Time Friday 12 January, 2063 - Unit 303, Winlock Apartment Complex, Tacoma

Eyes snapped awake upon hearing the University's name. Well, mostly; one of his eyes hadn't properly booted up, giving him a disorienting bas-relief view of the caller's face, but most of his meat jerked awake. He had the sudden urge to hit the back of his head; maybe that would wake up his SPU and at least tell him what time it was. He realized though he probably looked and sounded ridiculous enough already; no need to make it worse.

He had no idea why someone who heard his name from the University of all places would want to contact him. Though he did remember to keep a contact number up-to-date in one of their databases, he hadn't really expected anyone to actually look him up. In a very real way he had fled the University and betrayed their whole ideology, taking the safe path of corporate succor to keep out of danger. Though he was still free to show up and occasionally did help out, stupid things that could easily be done over the Matrix, he didn't imagine that he was well known or well-liked.

On the other hand he had made no secret about how sucking the corporate teat had gotten him screwed over. Shrugging inwardly, Eyes decided it was best to stick it out and find out what was going on. At best this was one of those prodigal son type moments, which would turn out well for him as he really had nowhere else to go now. At worst it was tied up with Oracle, Casimir and that whole secret war in the Matrix, in which case he was probably fragged no matter what he did.

Either way there was nothing to be gained by just saying 'No' and hanging up. "Um, all right, sure," Eyes said, reaching for his glasses out of habit, "Want to meet on the Uni's host, or are you more of a meatspace kind of guy? Or, wait, are you even local?" he added, checking caller ID quickly.

14:08:56 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - SRS Medical Systems, Redmond

...And now she's back to Cole. What the frag? Is she tryin' to throw me for a loop?

"Nothin,' just take care of yourself. I'll call if anything changes."

"Be careful." And with that the line disconnects. John's left feeling both slightly hopeful at the thought of the shamanic help and slightly confused at the course of the conversation. The last thing he needed right now was another problem to further clutter things.

Giving his head a rough shake, John started back towards room 214 when he had an idea. Ignoring the urge to light-up one of his few remaining smokes, he flipped his phone open and began cycling through the stored numbers. After a short search, made more difficult by the fact that the phone contained no other data aside from the numbers themselves, he found the one in question and hit the call button.

The call connected quickly, and a crisp voice answered in Japanese. "Hai?"

John answered in the same language, though his Japanese wasn't great. "I need to speak to Mr. Ueda. I have some information he may find useful. If he asks who calls, you may tell him it is his old "reclamation project."

10:45:41 (13:45:41 EST) Friday 12 January, 2063 - Atlanta, Georgia, CAS

"Yeah, I've got one, maybe two that I could levy. It'll take me about three days to get there once your call comes in, maybe another two to raise the troops. If you can find us some funds, I've got hardware for us. But getting in is going to be the easy part. It's a prison, after all."

03:01:17 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Unit 303, Winlock Apartment Complex, Tacoma

Blearily, Eyes realized his Math SPU was now functioning and he could see the time. Blargh, not even three hours of sleep. What's the good part about this shadowrunning business again?

With the clearing of his vision as the sleep fades ever so slightly, he can see the caller is a human male, sandy blond hair and light blue eyes. Stereotypical Californian surfer type. And he looks even more anxious now that Eyes can see him clearly.

"Yeah man, I'm local. Can we meet up somewhere?"

Eyes checks the caller ID and sees the guy is at a pay phone somewhere. Not helpful, but it seems to imply he's on the move, at least for now.

"Just tell me where to be, all right man, and I'll be there. Please." His voice is pleading now, and there's a not very subtle hint of desperation.

14:10:13 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - SRS Medical Systems, Redmond

"Ueda-sama is not available right now. Shall I take a message for him?" the flunky asks. Apparently the identifier 'reclamation project' was enough for this guy to know who John was. Or so it seemed.

03:01:23 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Unit 303, Winlock Apartment Complex, Tacoma

Eyes grimaced. Guy sounds like he's gonna wet his pants. Guess there's no chance of telling him to wait until morning. Fatigue (temporarily) forgotten, Eyes brought a handy terminal to life and tapped a few keys. "Oooookay then," he droned, bringing up the pay phone on a map utility, "I guess it's close enough to breakfast. There's an IHOP a few blocks north of you. Aaaand, yes, it's open 24 hours. That work, or you thinking somewhere else?"

Idly scratching his chin, Eyes stifled a yawn as he waited for the answer. Being a trucker place, Ihop would at least have decent coffee, if nothing else. "Oh, and did I get your name?"

10:45:57 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Capitol Hill Terrace, Apt 203. 1404 E. 14th Ave, Capitol Hill, Seattle, UCAS

"What kind of hardware are you talking about? Tony said, a plan rapidly spinning in his mind as he leaned back on the couch. "Depending on what you're friends chica's have done, getting into Calfree may be the hard part. Wait a sec, does Saito's pinchecabra group control that area? An army? I may have an army...

10:46:08 (13:46:08 EST) Friday 12 January, 2063 - Atlanta, Georgia, CAS

"Have you looked at my resume lately? I've got stuff that goes 'bang' and stuff that goes 'boom'. Corcoran is north of the PCC controlled area, far to the south of Saito's kingdom."

10:45:22 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Capitol Hill Terrace, Apt 203. 1404 E. 14th Ave, Capitol Hill, Seattle, UCAS

Damn, there goes the first plan.. "Yeah, I've seen that. Nice racket you've got going there. Get me some of that good rum next time you're down in the Carib. This time next month, we'll all be drinking mojitos in a bar in sunny Calfree, and able to write our own tickets. Or, we'll all be dead. Either way, it is something to do Tony said, sitting up on the couch and feeling...alive, in a way that Reign had brought out in him last night. Alive in a way that he felt in the garage yesterday. Alive in a way that he hadn't felt often in half a year.

10:46:50 (13:46:50 EST) Friday 12 January, 2063 - Atlanta, Georgia, CAS

"Two bottles it is. I'll keep this line open, give me a call when you're ready to work. Watch your back out there, Hillbilly."

10:46:59 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Capitol Hill Terrace, Apt 203. 1404 E. 14th Ave, Capitol Hill, Seattle, UCAS

"Vaya con dios, mi hermano. And make some friends. We're going to need them. I'll call you next week with a shopping list. Salvo, worry about yourself; worring about things you can't control will just make you old before your time." Tony said, ending the call. While a formative effort at a plan began to form in his head, it would take a lot more information, and probably a trip down, to get the plan idealized out. And nuyen, don't forget about that.

14:10:26 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - SRS Medical Systems, Redmond

"No. No message, except that he should contact me as soon as he's able. The information I have may be important."

22:05:30 Monday 08 January 2063 – Domain, 810 Bishop St, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS

As at the end of an invisible chain she dances, moving in swaying, synchopated rhythm with and then against the bone-jarring subwoofers, orbiting Vedic as a moth orbits a dark, predatory flame. For him she dances ... but not, quite, for him alone. Utterly obedient to his command -- and yet her movements draw other eyes, strangers' eyes to appreciate the sinuous coil of sinews and muscle as she dances in the constricting corset, to slide quickly aside each in turn as he becomes aware of their interest. He will suffer no equals here.

None, yet, have come even close to challenging. Like hyenas their eyes glitter briefly in the smoke and the lasers; and like hyenas they quickly slink back into the shadows to seek some less dangerous prey.

Something in the air this night, something which has sparked in his toy a strange willfulness which leads her to quietly move her selections to the front of the closet and to dance for him, but not exclusively. Not just this nightclub either: but something damp and clammy quietly working uneasy tendrils into the bedrock of the whole city. Around him the wanton exchanges of demand and surrender have not changed at all, and yet Vedic's perception of everything around him has shifted subtly to alter everything. Something in the air this night, from which the frenzied bodies around him desperately seek escape in mindlessness, and which Lilith tries to hold away with a swirl of jasmine and vanilla.

The hand holding her chain makes a slight gesture and she comes instantly to Vedic as though it were still attached to her collar: but though she looks only at him, awareness of something other than him lurks in the back of Lilith's eyes.

Against the darkened entryway, his elven eyes suddenly pick up the slight shift in pattern, new players who did not move as hyenas or as prey -- and then make out dimly the figure of the bouncer, moving steadily along the catwalks and the walls of the stages toward the back of the club.

22:05:45 Monday 08 January 2063 – Domain, 810 Bishop St, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS

Vedic slid an arm around Lilith's waist, pulling her close. He watched the entrance to the club with hawklike intensity. Survival ranked foremost in his mind, although he would remember the insolence that flashed through his toy's eyes. He would remind her, later, of the rules and of her position in their relationship. Now, though, adrenaline flooded his system, all aspects devoted now to the survival of the organism.

"Stay behind me, stay close, move when I tell you," he hissed, rolling his shoulders back slightly to open the panels of his longcoat, ensuring ready and rapid access to his weapons. He didn't want trouble, but if it came for him, he would give it one chance before moving up the scale of confrontation to lethal violence.

03:03:45 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Unit 303, Winlock Apartment Complex, Tacoma

The guy nods eagerly. “Yeah, I can make it there in a few. I’ll be waiting for you. Thank you so much,” he practically gushes. “Oh yeah, you can call me Stan. All right, I’ll see you there!” As he disconnects, the relief is palpable in his voice, and his mood seems at least slightly more relaxed. The screen goes blank, leaving Eyes to wonder just what was going on here.

14:10:51 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - SRS Medical Systems, Redmond

The flunky nods once, crisply. “Hai. I will inform Ueda-sama of your call, and he will contact you at his convenience.” It’s clear from the flunky’s tone that ‘convenience’ was way up in the air, but that was how it worked with organized crime sometimes. The flunky hangs up, leaving John to grimly contemplate the business of returning to room 214.

03:04:53 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Unit 303, Winlock Apartment Complex, Tacoma

For a moment Eyes was sorely tempted to leave Nervous Stan to his fate and go back to bed. He leaned back in his chair, daring sleep to come take him.

Heh, yeah right. The thought was shortlived, however. The whole situation was so interesting that no amount of laziness could get in the way; it would've taken hours to get to sleep. Finally, sighing and grumbling about "If I wanted these hours I'd join the army and at least get paid," he untwisted himself from his chair and made ready to leave. Stopping at the closet, Eyes paused a moment and dragged out his only remaining set of "work clothes," as his college buddies had called them. They had never been much use to him so far, but at least they'd help bring back a few "memories from rebellios youth." Eyes had a bad feeling he'd be needing those soon enough, maybe more than the protection.


03:28:07 Friday 12 January, 2063 - 7445 S Hosmer St, Tacoma

Eyes pulled into the IHOP parking lot, stifling a yawn. Well, time to see what's what. You didn't want to live forever anyway, did you? He grimaced, and set about looking for a parking spot. Seeing the lot was mostly empty, he backed into a spot close to the entrance and went inside.

03:29:19 Friday 12 January, 2063 - 7445 S Hosmer St, Tacoma

Looking around, Eyes didn't see anyone immediately suspicious. Two truckers were sitting at the counter a couple seats apart from each other. One was watching the trid hanging down from the ceiling and the other was absently scanning a screamsheet in front of him.

On the left side of the restaurant, there was a young couple apparently out for a late night snack and a student who looked like she was burning the midnight oil.

On the right was a tired looking ork woman sipping a cup of coffee, and in a corner table in the back, the man Eyes had subconsciously dubbed Nervous Stan. Nodding at the waitress, Eyes jandered over to the guy and sat down across from him.

Looking around nervously, Stan smiled, well, nervously. "Thanks so much for coming man. They said you could be counted on. Listen, thanks again, I know it's late and all..."

11:12:44 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Capitol Hill Terrace, Apt 203. 1404 E. 14th Ave, Capitol Hill, Seattle, UCAS

In the middle of contemplating lunch, Tony's phone buzzes again. Opening up the interface brings up a reply to his earlier message.