20:54:47 Sunday, 14 January 2063 - Miner's Landing, Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

"Da, the practical application ones... entry to mid level... something in the 4-00 series."

She opened up her jacket, sliding the pocket secretary back.

12:55:10 Thursday, 11 January 2063 - Port of Seattle Transit Trailer Holding Area 5N, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS

"Ok,"

Leo walked alongside the mage, keeping his eye on the nearby scaffolding and shuffling his principle into the car. A barge coming into port drowned the area in noise with its foghorn as Leo slid into the passenger seat and shut the door. The car started up and slid back onto the street, nicking the side of a curb and bouncing Leo in his seat.

"What about Abramovich? Anything I need to worry about there?" Leo asked.

13:13:29 Monday January 8, 2063 - Northbound 405 - Seattle UCAS

Erebus frowned into his phone, knowing the odds had been against it but he'd still been hoping the Elven fixer might've had a set of sec armor available.

"The stuff you can get within four hours is fine, anything longer is outside my timetable. I'm looking for area jammers, Rating 4-5 at least, let's say two. Just regular micro-sensor package camera units are fine, let's say 8 of those. Don't worry about the APDS ammo, I'll get my own later. Just give me a price tag and a meeting site to pick the gear up, somewhere in Tacoma would be best for me."

As he spoke he looked over at Dragon and covered the phone with his hand.

"Can you think of anything else we need that I haven't mentioned? He can't get us the armor or ammo in time."

13:14:17 Monday January 8, 2063 - Northbound 405 - Seattle UCAS

"There's a club called Domain, 810 Bishop St, in Tacoma. Meet me in the parking lot out back of the club at 1800. Area jammers are harder to come by, I won't be able to do anything higher than a rating 3 in the timeframe you're talking about. And that's at double street. For the rest: 4 flash-paks, 6 micro cameras, 3 rating 3 respirators, 3 trauma patches, 3 rating 6 tranq patches, and a 10 pack of flex-cuffs comes to an even 10k nuyen."

Elan waits to hear if Erebus has any additional requests.

20:55:32 Sunday, 14 January 2063 - Miner's Landing, Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Zeyda nodded, quirking a small smile.

"Thirty six hours for all three, but they don't come cheap. Full on practical courses run two thousand nuyen each for the 400 level applications. I'll drop you a text when they're in, just stop by the pick-up window and ask for my take-out."

13:14:22 Monday January 8, 2063 - Northbound 405 - Seattle UCAS

"If you can't get the area jammer then get me some directional jammers, four if possible, and we'll go from there. That price sucks but I need that gear, I'll be at the club on time."

Erebus winced at the price tag, he knew rush was expensive but 10K seemed like a lot for gear that could be purchased for half that price. Not that he was about to try and bargain with Elan, it never seemed to help when he tried and he always felt like an idiot afterwards.

The Elf sammurai informed the others about his little shopping list and the meeting site and time.

13:14:43 Monday January 8, 2063 - Northbound 405 - Seattle UCAS

"Directional are only slightly better. I have rating two on hand, anything higher will take forty eight hours. Four of them are going to run you an additional four thousand. I'll see you later."

13:14:43 Monday January 8, 2063 - Northbound 405 - Seattle UCAS

"Works guy, I'll see you there."

Erebus terminated the call and dropped his phone back into his jacket. The price tag hurt but hopefully they'd be able to recover the gear before they exited the hanger, and maybe recover some kind of salvage or something.

"Alright guys, I've got a meet to pick up the gear at 1800, between now and then we'll need to get more specific information and see what kind of access we can get to the site."

He glanced into the rearview, making eye contact with Sybersnake, just a quick questioning glance, before returning his attention to the road and traffic. Dragon was a well of silence in the front seat, off in his zone somewhere.

"I'm going to drop you at a coffin hotel in the north part of Tacoma so you guys can see about getting some information. I'll handle the getting the gear solo."

He pulled one of the disposable phones out of his jacket and handed it to Dragon.

"Here is a clean phone, it's disposable and the other number is programed in as speed dial one."

He aimed the car towards a popular quasi-business class coffin motel, a chain of cut rate hotels, whose main plus was the Matrix access it offered.

13:32:29 Monday January 8, 2063 - B.M. FullerTown, 3070 228th St SE, Seattle, UCAS

Dragon watched from the shelter of the lobby alcove as Erebus' car disappeared into the afternoon chill. His gaze swept from the street to the sky above, checking for drone surveillance. The path of his surveillance included the three story long red roofed building of the Extended Stay Business Suites the block over. He sighed, glancing back at Sybersnake who was busy negotiating with the expert system in charge of booking for the coffin hotel.

"You sure we can't stay over there?"

Sybersnake pulled out a pair of plastic card keys, handing one to Dragon.

"Sure, but it wouldn't do us any good. I've already got lines into this host." She motioned for him to follow her up the stairs to the second floor.

"Lines that the Azzies don't know about?" Dragon kept his voice deliberately neutral, not wanting to bring up bad news but needing to know if the bases were covered. Sybersnake flashed him a tight grin.

"They shouldn't. I put 'em in using a contact of mine over a year ago. There's no indication that they've drilled that deep. But don't worry, I'll check before I surf."

The slim decker stopped in front of one of the large coffins rented by orks and trolls. The large, two meter wide tube would be a tight but comfortable fit for the two of them. Dragon arches an eyebrow.

"Look, either you can stand out here in the cold and risk a visual ID by an Azzie fly-by or you can hang out in the warmth with me and go over any of the intel I develop. Your call."

Sybersnake didn't wait for an answer, slotting her keycard through the maglock and pulling the hatch of the coffin open. Dragon gritted his teeth, glancing up and down the corridor. Why now, of all times, did he think about how good her ass looked inside those kevlar and goretex cargo pants? Reaching up for the handle, he pulled himself inside the coffin, seating the door and glancing over at Sybersnake, who was already submerging into the VR.

"I really hope I get to blow something up soon," he muttered.

20:55:32 Sunday, 14 January 2063 - Miner's Landing, Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Ludmilla gave a small and curt smile to Zeyda, picking up the cigarette she had left in the ashtray. Her eyes went half closed as her lips wrapped around the cigarette, pulling the last bit of smoke into her lungs. As she spoke, white smoke slowly trailed out of her mouth.

“Spasiba moy preyatyel.�

She pushed her chair back , buttoning her suit's jacket up.

“You take care.� she added with her thick accent.

Leaving her mostly empty drink on the table, Ludmilla walked at a brisk pace out of the large room and down the short stairs, heading toward where she thought the pick up window was. She simply couldn't wait to get her hands on the gear she had ordered. Zeyda was more than reliable when it came to get a hold of exotic items... but she always felt a bit nervous. The job would either go down tomorrow, or very very soon... If everything wasn't quite in order, she'd have to buy time with Sascha. And time... well that was the last thing she really had.

An indeterminate period of time between 12:48:06 and 13:14:43 Monday January 8, 2063 - Northbound 405 - Seattle UCAS

After Sybersnake had presented the tactical situation to them in all the detail she had been able to provide from the short time frame she'd had available to gather information, the conversation shifted quickly to the nitty-gritty planning of getting in, getting Roberto, and getting out alive.

Numerous ideas were tossed back and forth. Some were practical, such as disabling the plane somehow to prevent it from leaving. Some were not so practical, such as driving a truck full of highly volatile and explosive jet fuel towards the plane, for reasons Dragon still had not been able to fully comprehend.

The look Sybersnake shot Erebus after he suggested it told them all in no uncertain terms there was no fragging way in hell she was going to allow them to drive a truck filled with 5000 pounds of avgas anywhere near that plane. Especially when said truck had enough explosive potential to blow the entire airport into next week.

Eventually though, they'd settled on a plan they could all agree with. Namely, rigging the plane with neuro-stun gas in advance on a remote detonator, then knocking out the security team and Roberto (a necessary step to minimize the potential harm to him by preventing a firefight, and Dragon had assured Sybersnake there would be no permanent aftereffects). After that, theoretically they could just waltz in, grab Roberto and waltz right back out. Theoretically.

Still, it was a reasonably solid plan, and probably the best they were likely to come up with under the circumstances. Immediately after they'd agreed on the plan, Erebus was on the phone with his fixer to try and secure things they'd decided they'd need. Specific equipment and, since neither Virgil nor Daedalus had gotten back to him, personnel.

While Sybersnake returned to the Matrix to gather more information, Dragon continued driving in silence. As often happened when his mind wasn't focused on something specific, his thoughts began to drift.

Lucien said it was because his body had so many mods. Supposedly his Essence-Integrity level was unstable; not quite as bad as cyberzombies like in the Cybertechnology file on Shadowland, but definitely worse than any normal person should be.

It had never been a problem in the field, since he always kept his mind actively engaged. But in moments of downtime, he often found himself thinking about things that held little, if any, relevance to the situation at hand. Sometimes it drifted to memories of times, places, and people in days past, sometimes it drifted to thoughts of what the future might hold.

Cruising up the 405 in the early afternoon, Dragon left the others to their tasks and let the memories wash over him.

14:00:10 Thursday, 11 January 2063, Meany Hall - University of Seattle

Her sudden rush for the double doors on the other end of the studio caught the detectives off guard. While Fox and Morris had acted as if she might run, they clearly didn't expect her to run.

Of the two, Fox was quicker, and the woman nearly grabbed Lana's sleeve before her acceleration kicked in and she was off and running at full speed. Crashing through the double doors at a full tilt, she ran headlong into another student who was about to enter.

Spinning off the startled student as soon as she hit him, Lana careened into the wall on the other side of the hallway, bouncing off hard and continuing her mad dash down the hallway to the stairs. Behind her, Fox and Morris yelled for her to stop, and she heard Fox curse as the woman stumbled over the now prone student Lana had knocked to the floor moments ago.

In the straightaway of the hallway, her advantage of surprise gone, Lana's fears were confirmed. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed both detectives were not only faster than her, they were probably in better shape as well.

Just as they started closing the gap significantly, she hit the stairs. Luckily for her, with the next set of classes about to begin other people were running up and down the stairs as well. Lana's smaller frame was able to weave in and out of the crowd, whereas the detectives, with their larger frames, opted to just crash right through.

Each belligerent student they faced, each momentary course correction they needed to stay on Lana's tail as she weaved in and out were precious extra seconds she gained. By the time she got to the bottom of the four story staircase she had extended her lead.

Looking around desperately for a place to hide, the frantic student spotted the locker rooms down the hall and ran for them, hoping to make it inside before Fox or Morris could see where she'd gone. Although she'd originally planned on hiding in the women's locker room, the men's was on this end of the hallway and she could hear the detectives getting closer.

Running out of time and options, and unwilling to risk a prolonged chase, which would almost certainly happen if they spotted her, Lana crossed her fingers and prayed no one was in the locker room as she darted inside.

To her immense relief a quick glance around confirmed she was all alone. Scrambling around, she looked for a place to hide. At first she wanted to hide in an empty locker, thinking there was no way the detectives could open all of them. Then she realized they were all locked except for a few, and Fox and Morris were almost certainly sharp enough to check those.

In the hallway, she heard Morris yelling, "Where the hell did she go? Did you see her?"

"You check the men's locker room. I'll go check the women's. She has to be somewhere in this hallway. Since the locker rooms are on both ends of the hall, once we've checked those we'll work our way in from there," Fox quickly answered.

"I'm on it."

With no more time to waste, Lana immediately dived into the nearest hiding spot she could find, a giant cart that happened to hold a mountainous pile of towels. Once she jumped in, she realized to her disgust that this was the used towel cart. As the smell hit her, her first instinct was to get out of the cart immediately, or at least gag and throw up.

Hearing the locker room door open and Morris's heavy footsteps, she did neither. Carefully and quietly she burrowed her way to the bottom of the cart, fighting down the bile rising in her throat. Once there, she curled herself up into the littlest ball she could, hoping that even if Morris decided to reach into the dirty towel cart, he wouldn't look too thoroughly.

Listening carefully, her earlier suspicions were proved correct, as she heard Morris moving quickly up and down the aisles of lockers and opening each unlocked one, checking to make sure no one was in them.

His footsteps grew closer, and she heard him mutter, "Oh god, this thing reeks. I hope she didn't hide herself in there." Despite his complaining, Lana heard him walk up the cart and thrust a hand in, digging around for her. As he shuffled the towels around, she felt him grasp at something, then tighten his grip, yelling triumphantly, "Got you!" before yanking something out of the cart.

"Just a fragging rolled up towel," he cursed, and was about to resume his search when Fox's voice yelled, "You find her in there?"

"No!"

"Then get your hoop out here and help me check the rest of the rooms!"

"All right! I'm coming! Keep your pants on!"

His heavy footsteps began walking away from her cart and Lana heard the locker room door open, then bang shut a few moments later. Although the detectives weren't gone, it was highly unlikely they'd come back to check the cart again. More likely they'd assume she must have taken a different path and they'd misjudged her route when she came down the stairs.

She wasn't quite safe, but she had a few moments to catch her breath. For a few minutes at least, she was away from it all. The cops, the questions, the mysteries, the fragging mess her life was becoming. With a moment to breathe again, all the stress and pressure that had constantly been building up the last few days suddenly came crashing down on her. At that moment the bottom of the smelly towel cart seemed a very inviting place to just curl up and cry. She buried her face in her arm, letting it muffle the sounds of her sobs.

12:57:40 Thursday, 11 January 2063 - Port of Seattle Transit Trailer Holding Area 5N, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
“Not much,� Roderick said as he slammed the Z-M into gear, his accent making it sound like a small mule braying. “Abramovich…well, I owe him some money, but it’s not that much to a guy like him. He knows I’m going to pay him when this is over with. He actually seemed reasonable, last I talked to him, � he said, pulling the car somewhat recklessly down the lane and outside the trailer drop off point, out to the 5 and toward his flat downtown.


Leo didn’t say anything during the drive, in a mix of semi-terror at Roderick’s shockingly careless driving in the still semi-ice-and-snow covered conditions (Leo braced himself for a crash every time Roderick pulled into the icier passing lane and began to fishtail the hot rod, not to mention the high-pitched whining sound that began to come from the rear of the vehicle whenever they put on speed) and shaking headed wonder at the magicians blasé attitude in the face of owing money to the Vory.

They’ll be coming after him soon, one way or other , he thought to himself as Roderick grinned like a crazy man as he roared the Z-M around a plow moving the packed snow a little farther out of the outside lane to the honking and blaring of horns of the other drivers on the damp and slick highway. Leo’s hand reflexively found the upper restraint handle; a widely spaced handprint (much wider than his own hand) stood in testimony that Roderick’s driving style wasn’t just showing off


01:29:44 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Despite Roderick’s reckless-for-no-apparent-good-reason driving, nothing other than the passenger side armrest gaining an additional handprint until they got back to the apartment building. Leo noticed him first; a large, square shouldered human, standing by the outside entrance that they had left. He looked to be watching the traffic in and out of the parking lot, and had already noticed the old car. Probably heard it coming up the block Leo thought to himself as the man strode toward the driveway, a good 20 meters off but approaching closely.

“You know him?� Leo asked.

Roderick gulped loudly. “I think Abramovich is paying a visit. You got a place to go? Or should we hear him out?�

13:32:38 Monday January 8, 2063 - B.M. FullerTown, 3070 228th St SE, Seattle, UCAS

Why now, of all times, did he think about how good her ass looked inside those kevlar and goretex cargo pants?

That was an easy question to answer. Because her ass looked damn fine in said kevlar and goretax cargo pants. Of course it always looked fine, but there was something about having it right in front of his face, swaying side to side as she climbed the ladder that was particularly appealing at the moment. Forcing himself not to dwell on her perfect ass and her tight, firm body that had curves in all the right places, Dragon shoved aside his growing desire and ordered himself to focus, muttering unintelligibly as he climbed.

By the time he got up the ladder Sybersnake was already jacked into the VR. Not wanting to disturb her, he settled himself in against the wall opposite the door. Taking care to line up the perfect firing position just in case some unwanted assailant decided to barge in on them (for all the good it would do; one grenade up here and they were both toast), he closed his eyes to rest, trusting in his cybered senses to pick up on any hint of danger. Satisfied he was ready for trouble, Dragon took advantage of the chance to sleep. Dozing lightly, he waited for Sybersnake to do her thing and return to the meat world.

14:33:52 Thursday, 11 January 2063, Meany Hall - University of Seattle

She had lost track of time buried deep under the towels, she could barely think straight when she tried to think about what she would do next, but instincts had a way of overriding the conscious mind. Somehow she knew that the Detectives were long gone from searching the locker rooms. Something was also telling her that the locker room would soon be filled with lots of sweaty dancers and she really didn’t want to be seen by anyone else that might rat her out to the Detectives should they keep asking around.

Besides, as her subconscious spurred her forward, her conscious mind no longer found the refuge of smelly towels inviting. In fact the thought of being wrapped up in all of the sweat, the germs and god only knew what else was making her sick to her stomach. Fighting back her gag reflex and biting back the dry heaves, Lana pulled her small frame out of the rolling cart and tumbled to the hard concrete floor of the locker room.

Her eyes quickly moved about the space, assuring her that she was truly alone. She didn’t need to get startled by running into one of the other dancers coming out of the showers. Standing still she heard nothing, no shuffle of feet, no spraying or splashing of water from the showers. She allowed her to let out the breath she had been holding and slowly moved away from the towel cart and the relative safety it had provided her.

She had two immediate objectives. She needed to get to the locker she had stashed her bag in before class and retrieve the things Nikol had left her and she needed to get out of the building and off campus. Of course both of those things needed to be accomplished without being located by the Detectives. With tentative steps she poked her head out of the men’s locker room and looked up and down a relatively empty hallway. She was thankful she didn’t see anyone she knew well, nor did she see the Detectives. Her relief was quickly quashed by the distance between the two locker rooms. It had never seemed like a long walk from one end of the hallway to the other, but right now with everything on the line it looked like the women’s locker room was in a different time zone.

Deciding trying to sneak down the hall would look more suspicious than just looking like a typical college student late for class Lana slipped from the protection of the doorway and moved out into the hallway, walking at a clipped but as relaxed pace as she could manage in her situation down the hall and towards the women’s locker room. Her eyes swept every inch that she could manage without turning her head too much or too often watching and waiting, almost expecting one of the Detectives to jump out from a hallway or a doorway and scream “Gotcha!�

14:39:26 Thursday, 11 January 2063, Meany Hall - University of Seattle

Maybe Lana had just watched way too many trid shows where the bad guys had randomly appeared out of nowhere, with no rhyme, reason, or rationale. Maybe she’d just been conditioned to believe that life would unfold in the most dramatic way possible, even if it made no sense. Then again, nothing in the last few days made any sense, and it sure as hell felt like she was just a character in a trid show. She wished someone would yell “Cut!� and stop everything, and she could walk off the set and go home to her normal life and see Nikol at home and even get lectured to be careful and stay safe.

Shaking off thoughts that were neither here nor there as she continuously scanned the hallway with a paranoia that would make the most rabid conspiracy theorist proud, she made the walk from the Men’s Locker Room to the Women’s in about an hour. Or at least it felt that way. In reality, it was more like a minute.

Once inside the locker room she raced to her locker and quickly changed back into her street clothes, so as not to draw attention to herself. Grabbing the bag out of the locker, she double checked to make sure she didn’t leave anything. The way things were going it wasn’t like she could come back any time soon if she forgot something. Satisfied she hadn’t forgotten anything, she opened the door back to the hallway ever so slightly and scanned the hallway again for the detectives. Relieved that no one was there, she moved quickly to exit the building. A quick glance back reassured her that no one was following her as she approached the doors. Practically bursting out of the double doors into the cold January air, she hurried down the stairs, trying to figure out where to go next, and what to do when she got there.

01:30:01 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

"Hold on a moment," Leo told Roderick while looking out the passenger window; he checked the gun strapped to his side just in case he needed to use it while sizing up the stranger as best he could. No obvious weapons, but they were there somewhere. They were either well hidden and slow to draw, or well hidden and fast. Leo hoped the former. The nervous mage tapped the top of the steering wheel with both hands, the desire to flee apparent in his every jerky move.

"You sure? I mean..."

"Yeah, better to hear what he has to say - and he's here to talk or we would have never seen him. Well, you would have never seen him."

Leo was positive he had only thought the "probably" at the end of his statement, or at the very least whispered it too quiet to hear, but Roderick's response said otherwise.

"Probably? What the hell 'probably'? Probably he wants to talk? Because that isn't quite fragging sure enough for me to want to..."

"Just calm down; the more information we have the better. If he just wants to remind you that you owe some money then you're good, if not, well, that's why I'm here."

Roderick didn't seem too confident, but the man across the parking lot had kept walking and now was within speaking distance of the two men at the car.

15:19:03 Thursday, 11 January 2063, A dirty alley somewhere in the Seattle Metroplex

As her feet clicked hard and quick across the pavement she pulled the lapels of her jacket tighter around her in a vain attempt to keep out the cold. From a casual observer she looked like she was a determined woman with a destination to reach. In truth however, she was anything but. She walked in any direction that would get away from the campus in the least amount of time and she didn’t have a planned destination.

Lana had walked herself in circles for what felt like hours, but in reality had been just a little over an hour. Paying more attention to what was before, immediately around and behind her than where she was going. When she finally snapped herself out of the almost trance-like state brought on by a healthy dose of paranoia, she realized she had walked herself into a more seedy part of the metroplex, far away from the perceived safety of the Uni’s campus.

Instead of fear or panic washing over her Lana actually felt a wave of relief take its place and she actually let out a soft chuckle. It was unlikely that the cops would come looking for her in a slummy place like this, more than likely they were wasting their time visiting her friends and known aquaintances and finding nothing. That thought solidified the fact that she had to keep her distance from most of the people she knew for a little while at least assuming the cops would likely keep their eyes on Aidan and Kat for the time being.

Looking up and down the street she was greeted with grungy locked down store fronts, strewn trash and unidentifiable liquids spilling out across the streets and acid-etched foggy windows, the majority of which were shattered, cracked or boarded over. Then she spotted it, a veritable neon-esque holy grail behind dirty glass. A colour-shifting ad for Iced Charcoal, it’s familiar logo offering her a sense of salvation. She quickly made a bee-line towards the building, struggling slightly to pull open the heavy door and slipped inside.

Right now, she thought, she deserved a beer.

15:24:13 Thursday, 11 January 2063, A dirty alley somewhere in the Seattle Metroplex

Lana may have felt like she deserved a beer, but the moment she walked in the door she wondered if this was the right place for it. While certainly not a dive bar by any stretch of the imagination, it was significantly seedier than what she was used to.

The tables were cracked and the polish worn down, several of the bar stools were bent, their cushions torn in places, and the place reeked of smoke and cheap booze. On the plus side, there were only a few patrons in the place, and it seemed as if this was more of a 'stop in after work for the rest of the night' kind of bar, not a 'why even bother going to work at all' bar.

At this time, there were only three other people in the bar besides Lana, and two of them looked like they were passed out. The bartender, an old human with a ragged beard and stained white wife-beater looked up when the door opened. Placing his hands on the worn countertop he's wiping with a filthy rag, he grins at Lana, revealing several missing teeth. Blatantly, he looks her up and down, then asks, "What kinI do fer ya sweet thang?"

15:25:07 Thursday, 11 January 2063, A dirty bar somewhere in the Seattle Metroplex

When she stepped inside the dive of the bar she almost turned on her heel and walked right back out the door. The place was hardly on the same scale as Element, but that wasn’t exactly available to her right now. When the disgusting excuse of a bartender took his time looking her up and down, she forced a smile on her face as she settled herself on the least ripped stool before the bar and tried not to throw up in her mouth. The bartender’s breath smelled like stale cigarettes and rotten meat. It took her a couple of moments to find her voice after the olfactory assault.

“A beer, whatever you’ve got.� She stopped after the initial order and then hastily added on. “And a whiskey chaser.�

She averted her gaze from the bartender and paid more attention to her bag and keeping it settled on a stool beside her.

15:26:12 Thursday, 11 January 2063, A dirty bar somewhere in the Seattle Metroplex

No sooner had she seated herself than the bartender plunked a frosty Iced Charcoal (unopened) and whiskey chaser in front of her. Service here was quick, apparently.

"So, what's a sweet young thang like yerself doin' in here babe? Anything I can uh, help you with?"

The bartender's leer made her nauseous, and she felt uneasy just being here. Despite his pathetic attempts to hit on her, he didn't seem particularly dangerous, just lecherous and sleazy, and maybe a little bit bored by the lack of customers. Of course, looks were often deceiving...

15:26:12 Thursday, 11 January 2063, A dirty bar somewhere in the Seattle Metroplex

There was that sensation again, the burn of bile at the back of her throat. Swallowing hard, she twisted the cap off the beer and took a long swig of it to chase away the acidic burn.

"Thanks, but a place to be icy is plenty for now. The old man'll never think to look for me in here."

She had done her best to keep her accent to a minimum but that was like trying to ask the impossible. She grabbed the shot of whiskey and threw it back with the speed and finesse of a professional drunk. She chased that with another long pull from her beer bottle and then took a glance towards the door.

All the while she could feel the bartender's eyes on her, lingering in places his eyes shouldn't. Under the cover of the bar in her lap her hands flexed and intertwined, fingers constantly moving in a rhythm connected to her nervousness.

15:26:18 Thursday, 11 January 2063, A dirty bar somewhere in the Seattle Metroplex

The bartender shrugs. "Suit yerself. But if ya wanna be left alone, I'd scram soon, afore the afternoon crowd comes in. Sweet thang like yerself ain't gonna be left alone fer long once tha boys start rollin' in."

He walks away to return to wiping the bar. Although he continues sneaking in glances at Lana when she thinks she isn't looking, for the moment she's left alone with her thoughts, to consider what her next move should be.

17:22:54 Thursday, 11 January 2063, A dirty bar somewhere in the Seattle Metroplex

Lana couldn’t help but let an arrogant teenaged smirk creep to her lips. She’d put up with her own fair share of creeps at Element in her time a few of the “good ol’ boys� in a for shit dive bar like this one… She took another pull from her beer, nearly draining it and made no attempt to move from the stool. The one major factor that she was overlooking was that at Element, there was a well paid, well trained staff to keep problems from escalating past a minor annoyance. Here she was left with her wits, a bag of all her belongings and a sleazy bartender.

In some corner of the bar an ancient Trideo unit crackled and sputtered with the current news updates.

The toothless bartender was so accurate that people could tell time off him should the grid go down. It was but barely 5 minutes later that the “boys� truly did roll into the bar. With the minimal clientele Lana stood out as if she was bathed in neon. The fact that she was not the regular low-life, loose morals woman who frequented the place seemed to draw them to her like moths to the flame.

They looked like they could be workers from the docks, day laborers that did hard work, construction even. Their mouths and their dialects confirmed their blue-collar status. When one decided he was worthy enough to put his hand roughly on her upper thigh, it was that point when she decided to take the bartender’s advice and find somewhere else to hole up for a while. This wasn’t the kind of party she enjoyed.

She shot the guy an icy stare and waved the bartender over. She didn’t waste any time settling up her tab, and sliding from her stool she hefted the bag over her shoulder from the seat next to her and didn’t apologize when it’s weight drove into the guy with the wandering hands. She turned on a heel with a nod to the bartender as she made her way out the door back onto the dirty street and on a new search for a place to lay low.

She knew going back to the neighborhood, or back to her friends was pretty much out of the question and than visiting her local haunts wouldn’t be the greatest idea either. However she remembered the various coffin-style motels that were littered around the entertainment corridor in downtown, specifically a little hole-in-the-wall about 5 blocks from Element where a number of people ended up “sleeping it off.� She walked her way back from the back alleys and side streets to one of the main drags, busy enough that she could manage to hail a cab to take her to the entertainment district.

The ride in the cab was thankfully quiet, the cabbie prone not to ask a certified cred paying customer too many questions. She had the cab drop her off a couple of blocks from her destination and she didn’t waste much time in front of many of the clubs along the way. She did take a couple of seconds at a public dataterm to drop Aidan a message that she was fine and everyone was better off if they didn’t know where she was for a bit. She promised to be in touch soon and quickly ended the call.

It wasn’t hard to find the coffin motel, quiet and unassuming on a side street. She chose an Ork-sized capsule in a mid-level tier, somewhat close to an exit and slotted one of the certified credsticks from her bag and bought herself 36 hours of uninterrupted time. She opened the hatch to her current living arrangement and slid her bag in first and crawled in behind it and shut the capsule door.

Thankfully the space was relatively clean and updated and because of her small size she was given a lot of room to move around. With some peace and quiet and most of all privacy she allowed herself to open up the bag again and thoroughly examine its contents again. She spent a good amount of time studying the fake ID Niki had made up for her, knowing it was going to become more important in her very near future.

23:09:13 Thursday, 11 January 2063, Club Buddha, The Seattle Entertainment Corridor

Sleep had come fitfully at best through out the evening, drifting in and out while reading up on all the details of her alternate identity. Convinced with the confidence of teenaged bravado that she had all the important information down she decided that she could use the new id to be out and about with relative security. Sitting up inside the capsule she rented she dug through her bag and found various toiletries and started to get herself cleaned up.

She took her hair down from the ponytail and brushed it out, trying to coax it into a new style without having to jump in the shower. She took this opportunity to apply her makeup in a different style, a bit more goth and heavy-handed for her usual tastes. She picked through the limited clothing Niki had left for her and tried to piece together something stylish enough she could get into the clubs. Getting dressed inside the capsule was more difficult that she had imagined, but as she shimmied into the tight pair of black pants she found herself laughing at what she must look like at that very moment.

Before she left the capsule, she carefully divested herself of anything that would immediately tie her back to her real identity, burying her real ID in the bottom of her bag along with 4 of the remaining credsticks. In the pocket of her pants she slid the small cell phone with the emergency number and the credstick she used to secure the motel space. She started to shrug on her jacket and then stopped, realizing it was one of the kinds of things most people would identify her with in the club district. Tonight she’d just have to brave the cold like most of the club-going babes who wore as little as possible to get inside the top spaces regardless of the weather.

She made her way from the coffin motel after turning back on her floor three times to ensure the door to her space and her things was closed and locked up tight. When she stepped outside she immediately put her arms around her small frame to try to keep warm as her hair whipped around in the breeze. She walked at a brisk pace, laying waste to the few blocks between her and the lines of people trying to get into the various clubs. Out of habit she made a bee-line towards Element but before she could get herself in the long line waiting to hit the door, she forced herself to veer off slightly and walk a few doors down to another club called Buddha.

There she waited again in line keeping to herself, flirting a bit with those that she thought were worthy of her attention. After a decent wait she was finally in front of the doors and the bouncers and ready to give her new ID its trial run.

9:37:42 Thursday, 12 January 2063, A coffin motel in the Seattle Entertainment Corridor

As she rolled over inside the capsule she rented, instead of finding a Mr. Whats-his-name from the club she was thankfully greeted only by the sterile smell of overly cleaned densiplast and a splitting headache. Lana could barely remember much of the evening after getting past security with her new ID, she couldn’t even remember making it back to the coffin motel.

She wanted a hot shower as soon as it was possible, she reeked of smoke from the club and her mouth was as dry and rough as sandpaper. Grabbing the essentials to change clothes and various toiletries along with her credstick she made her way down to the level’s women’s “locker room� and bought enough time to grab a long hot shower in private along with a clean towel to finish it off.

Once she was clean she tossed her things back into the cubicle trading them out for her jacket. While the club last night did much to quell her loneliness, it did so only temporarily and a hangover hardly made for good company. She figured word of the cops showing up at the Uni and chasing after had to have gotten back to Kat and in turn Aidan by now and she was itching to hear a familiar voice, someone who might give her advice.

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket and fingered the slim cell phone that resided in one of them. She pulled it out after only a few moments of hesitation and looked at the screen. Instinctively she flipped to the phone book expecting to see only the “Emergency Only� entry staring her in the face, instead she found more than a couple “calling cards� of the guys she obviously met at the club last night. Shaking her head she shoved the phone back into her pocket and headed away from the coffin motel to a public dataterm a couple of blocks away. Slotting her credstick, she dialed up Kat’s cell number and waited for her friend’s familiar voice to come across the line.

9:38:03 Thursday, 12 January 2063,
Pay Telecom near Lana's current coffin motel in the Seattle Entertainment Corridor

After a few rings, Kat picks up, obviously awoken by the call. She blinks a few times and stares blearily into the telecom screen. When she sees who it is, she bolts upright, eyes wide open. "Lana! Oh my god! Babe where are you? Are you ok? What's going on with you? What happened to your phone? Why did the cops come by looking for you yesterday?"

The questions are pouring from Kat's mouth, but Lana already knew what they'd be before they were even asked. Figuring she better just start explaining before she was buried under an avalanche of questions, some she might not want to answer, she quickly cuts Kat off to explain the situation.

01:35:55 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

The large human slowed to normal walking speed, hands out forward of his body with the palms facing down in show of non-threatening (and non-weapon-carrying) deamenor more suited to a bodyguard than to a Vory collection guy approaching someone that owed his boss money.

‘Mister Roderick,’ the man asked in decent English with a Russian accent (and I’m not even surprised Leo thought) , not even breathing hard in the cheap suit he wore, “we would like you to be coming upstairs now, just to be talking� Roderick looked at Leo. Leo shrugged in a Why not? gesture. The suspension of the car again groaned itself up as both of the swung the creaky doors of the old coupe out, the Vory man close to the car keeping a professional distance away, but otherwise made no move to a gun.

“What happens now?� Roderick asked nervously as the trio crunched their way thru the ice-crusted gravel parking lot. He was shaking a bit, not necessarly from the cold, and kept almost putting his hands in his pockets before thinking better of it.

“Just talking, like I said,� Leo replied, noting the distance that the Vory man kept, and his partner who appeared in the doorway. Probably. But they could have gotten us in the car easily.. This didn’t look like a shootout, but he tried and somehow found the relaxed calm he remembered from what seemed like two lifetimes ago.

“You did say probably,� Roderick said while biting his thumbnail, as the second Vory opened the door. His friend, striding forward, held it from the outside, and remained there as Leo and Roderick entered. “To your apartment, Mr. Roderick,� the second one (a bit shorter and not as broad, but just as competent looking as his partner ) said, motioning forward with his hand. The cheap suit jacket we wore slipped open a bit with the movement, giving Leo a glimpse of a chrome-handled Predator in battered looking holster.

As the door opened to the apartment, Leo wasn’t sure what would happen. He tensed slightly, shifting his weight in case he needed to leap back and knock Roderick back out of the door, and hopefully use the momentum to take himself out the line of fire. Leo had taken a shot before, and Roderick didn’t look like he’d do as well if it came to that, but he wasn’t exactly looking to take a round if he didn’t have to.

As it was though, the old wooden door opened to a sedate scene, even a bit cleaner than Leo had left it. A balding man, thick around the waist with middle age, looked up with owlish, naturally brown eyes, sitting in one of the chairs that had been moved off the direct line-of-fire from the door over to a more indirect position. Another man flanked him, pale ,blonde headed and slim , relaxed on one of the table chairs in the kitchenette looking at a tea set that hadn’t been there when Leo left, and yet another large, cheap-suited human stood flank on the hallway down to the bath and bedrooms.

“Mr. Roderick, good to see you again,� the man in the kitchen said, in slightly Russian accented English, looking over at the pair. “And your friend is?� he added, looking at Leo.

01:36:13 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Leonid considered the man addressing him with a thousand stuttering stares, eyes picking out each available detail one at a time, in rapid succession, and then assembling the information into an individual threat assessment. Combining this with his estimations of the rest of the skill assembled in the room, Leo adjusted his positioning and stance ever so slightly before nodding in acknowledgment.

"Denisov," he answered, using the name of the first person that came to mind, an old friend from back in the Siberian uprising. Of course, Denisov had taken a bullet in the gut a few kliks out of Irkutsk, and Leo mentally grimaced at the poor situational choice of identities.

Whether any of the Vory recognized who he was didn't really matter; if so they would probably understand the change or dismiss it as relatively unimportant, what with a shakedown in progress, and if not, all the better. If there was trouble, he'd prefer to be perceived as just another bodyguard off the streets, especially considering they must know all to well that Roderick wouldn't be offering too much resistance.

The mage next to Leo wasn't doing much right, paying too much attention to what must be a damn stubborn hangnail and looking small and caught. Leonid was pretty sure he'd have to do the talking in the early going based on Roderick's body language.

A drop of sweat meandered over the tattoo on the back of Leo's neck - someone had turned the heat up in the apartment to uncomfortable levels - and he bounced his coat up on his shoulders a bit so the collar wiped away the offending liquid.

"What can we do for you?" Leo asked the man, starting with a question in an attempt to grab whatever control of the conversation he could.

01:36:59 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

The man, casually dressed in an expensive looking charcoal grey (and probably real wool, Leo thought) sweater and jeans cocked his head. “Denisov?� He looked at Leo for a moment, then shrugged.

“Someone like you, I think I would know. Or know of. You from around here? Oh, and Rod: don't try any of that crazy mage shit around here. Demitri," he nodded to the balding man in the chair, "will peel you both apart. I'm here to offer you something. Sit down with me and have some tea and talk," the man said, sitting back down at the table.

9:42:09 Thursday, 12 January 2063,
Pay Telecom near Lana's current coffin motel in the Seattle Entertainment Corridor

The speed at which questions were leaving Kat’s mouth would normally have made Lana laugh, however under the gravity of the situation she tried to remain calm but cut her friend off before she could become too overwhelmed to give Kat the answers she needed to hear, and to possibly keep her safe.

“Hold up and I’ll explain as best as I can. First of all I’m downtown, I’m safe and ok, I just needed some time to try to clear my head. The cops showed up at class yesterday and I just freaked out under the stress I guess. Had it in my head that since I’m still a minor and Niki’s… well yeah, I figured they were going to ship me back to Moscow, or put me into some foster family hellhole. Kat, they flipping chased me through Meany Hall…I probably just made it worse running but…� Lana paused to compose herself and lower her voice that had risen to a volume loud enough that it was garnering her some stares from passerbys.

“I just wanted to let you all know I’m fine and I should have figured the cops would be harassing all of you guys for my whereabouts. Just tell Aidan I’m ok… And don’t tell the cops you talked to me, I promise I’ll keep in touch, but right now I just need to sort things out on my own… Y’know, without the cops interfering.� She tried to smile but it came off half-hearted and flat. Instead of trying to answer anything else she changed the subject and turned it back on her friend.

“What about you? Everything ok with you and the club creep?�

She knew that her friend was a bit narcissistic, but wondered if it was enough to steer the conversation away from the mess that had become her own life.

17:54:43 Monday January 8, 2063 - Domain, 810 Bishop St, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS

Erebus frowned as he pulled off Bishop street into the parking lot behind the two story building that his GPS identified as 810. The sign out front, strangely subdued, had read only 'DOMAIN' in plain black letters. He'd never heard of this club before, but it seemed like he had the right place. Elan's nightsky idled at one of the back parking spots. Erebus backed his vehicle into place next to the sleek limousine, glancing around at the neighboring buildings more out of habit than any sense of paranoia. He knew Elan would have checked beforehand, and that the fixer was running active drone cover right now. His scan told him a lot, though, and he raised a questioning eyebrow to the fixer as he stepped out of the vehicle. Elan quirked a grim smile.

"The club profits not only from the services it offers, but from the privacy in which it offers them."

Erebus nodded. His question arose from the fact that none of the surrounding structures had security cameras that faced into the parking lot. And no one on the street would be able to see either, due to the narrow bend in the entrance driveway. He followed his fixer around to the rear of the vehicle, glancing down into the open trunk at the pair of heavy plastic transport cases. Elan popped the latches so he could inventory them. Switching on the jammers to stand-by, Erebus let them run through their systems checks, looking for the green LEDs before powering them down. He did the same with the cameras. Securing the tops of the cases, he moved them to the trunk of his own vehicle.

"Everything good?" It was more of a rhetorical question his fixer asked. Erebus nodded, transferring the agreed upon fee. As his credstick displayed the adjusted balance, he hid a grimace. With any luck, this job with Dragon would more than make up for the money he'd lost so far this month.

01:36:59 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

"No, not from around here," Leo said, keeping his accent neutral. He looked to Roderick, gave one nod that was returned by the mage, and helped his disheveled ward take a seat at the neatly appointed table. Two glasses of tea were poured into porcelain cups, set on saucers and relasing lazy tendrils of steam into the air. Roderick smelled the contents with a brief sniff, the white clouds curling around his face and neck before he pulled away.

Leo remained standing, taking position just behind Roderick and to the left, not sure if the "host" had intended him to sit or not. Getting a read on the grey-suited Vory wasn't easy, like catching reflections in turbulent water, and Leo wasn't sure he could identify this particular member of the syndicate. They all seemed to play the same game though, and it always went civility before violence, tea before torture as it were, like some natural law that required a calm before the storm.

"I'm not sure you'd find anything I've done very interesting," Leo continued, still looking for a hint of betrayed recognition in the man's blue eyes. "just the sort of work you'd expect from an old veteran, trivial at best."

WinterRat and Cedric: stay out! I'll de-spoiler it when we get to the right time.

01:37:44 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

The man smiled, but to Leo his eyes didn’t give any mirth, or betray any human feeling. Leo half-wondered if they were real, given the lack of emotion. Still seated in his chair, he snapped his fingers; the muscle by the door hustled to bring another tea-place, and set it gently in front of the third place setting of the old bamboo-and-steel dinette. Leo tried to make eye contact with the man, but he studiously concentrated on his task, then moved back to the entryway, standing at ease against the molding at the entry kitchen. Leo heard the mage raise himself from the deep side chair, and saw him settle himself on the couch in line of sight of the kitchen. The muscle at the didn’t move to his hearing, and stayed in the line of sight to the group. Neither did Leo hear the tell-tale creak of floorboards in the old building that would indicate the man outside the door had left.

Leo suppressed a sigh, taking in the movements. The man at the table was relaxed and confident in his movements, as would someone with two guns and a mage in easy distance, Leo thought. More theater Leo mentally sighed, but he knew enough to pay attention to it; this looked like a talking to, but he’d been in enough of these to know what could happen.

“You’d be surprised, I think. I had an uncle in the Eurowars. Wasn’t quite the life for me, and while I have many…disagreements with the government, I do honor those who serve the Rodnia. Where did you serve? Also, sit and enjoy your tea. Roderick, well, we’ll get to him in a bit,� the man said, pouring still steaming tea into the new place setting. Roderick, for his part, seemed to shrink in his seat, as if to forstall any upcoming storm of words directed his way.

01:00:10 Wednesday, 10 January, 2063 - A Warehouse in the Barrens

A hailstorm of bullets continued to rain down on Scrapheap’s position, forcing him to stay down lest he get hit. Carefully, he crouched behind the half wall of the office as the glass panes were shattered into hundreds of tiny fragments. Turning to Nora and Lady Dove, he hissed, “When I say ‘go’, fraggin’ run to the stairs!� The two women nodded in understanding as he carefully clutched his Ingram and waited for the right time.

Absently, he noted that two of the goons down the catwalk to his left were trying to climb back up, one boosting the other back up. He had no idea how the thin waif had managed to get them to jump down there, but he was glad she did, or he’d have been caught in a crossfire that probably would have been game, set, and match.

The spray of fire from the submachine gunner stopped, and before Scrapheap could do anything, he ripped off another wide spray of bullets, picking up where he left off. One of them punched through the thin wall and ripped at John's arm, but fortunately his armor prevented any serious damage. The gunner stopped firing for a moment, and it was obvious he was either trying to reload or unjam his gun, because he was fumbling around with it, trying to fix some kind of problem.

Immediately rising up behind the wall, Scrapheap brought the Ingram to bear on the shotgun-wielding foe, who had his shotgun leveled at John. The two of them traded shots in a millisecond of guts and terror, Scrapheap’s bursts igniting sparks as they slammed against the catwalk railing and floor, the shotgun’s shells smashing into the support beams around John. As John dived back down behind cover in response to the return fire, his foe mimicked him, lowering his body to make himself less of a target. With growing frustration and disappointment, John noted he hadn’t even been able to put this one guy down yet, and he was rapidly getting boxed in.

On the southern end of the catwalks, Alleycat was already planning her next move when she was startled by one of the goons skidding to a complete stop before jumping over the railing. Without hesitation, he turned, aimed his SMG at Alleycat, and then cut loose with a long burst that almost tore her in half. Frantically she threw herself to the other side of the catwalk, just out of the stream of bullets.

Scrambling to her feet, she moved sideways to give Scrapheap a clear line of fire, but moved closer, within easy throwing distance. Coolly, she palmed another flash bang even as she called out in calming voice, “Toss me the gun, friend!� While he was still processing the command, she casually let the flash-bang drop out of her hand.

Snarling to himself, John rose to his feet and fired again at the shotgunner, but the wind, rain, and general chaos, plus the now crouching shotgunner made getting a clean shot difficult. As he ducked back behind cover though, he felt a familiar sensation wash over him. Rosa had taught him to ‘feel’ when a spirit was doing something to him, and while he wasn’t perfect at it, not by a long shot, he definitely could tell there was a spirit with him now. Looking at Lady Dove, he saw her saying something to someone he couldn’t see, confirming his suspicions. Despite the situation, he smiled tightly to himself. Well now, looks like we’ve got spirit backup. That changes things quite a bit. Guess she’s not a total liability in a fight after all. Thank God.

Alleycat was slowly walking towards the mercenary(?), still trying to remain nonthreatening, when she suddenly felt a bolt of energy course through her body. Instantly, she recognized a combat spell slamming into her and steeled herself to resist, hoping it would be enough. Even as she did so, her mind whirled, trying to process this new threat and how best to deal with it.

Downstairs, Max crawled, scrambled, ran, and ultimately just dived right into ETG’s pillbox. Quickly moving behind cover, he ordered his spirit to drop its Concealment (he definitely didn’t want to get hit by his own people at this point!) and switch to using Guard, to protect him from any of the hostile spirits he’d seen out there.

Noting the sudden appearance of the out of sorts professor by his side, ETG bellowed, “Where your friends at? Get ‘em down here!�

To punctuate his rather large friend’s command, Blaze ducked behind cover and yelled, “Go upstairs and help them get back here, we’ll cover you!�

01:00:13 Wednesday, 10 January, 2063 - A Warehouse in the Barrens

Max’s chest heaved from the exertion as he lay in the pillbox concealed for the moment by his spirit. His arm still throbbed in pain from the gunshot wound he had taken, he could feel the blood soaking his black sweatshirt causing it’s material to stick to the wound. He had seen the attackers summoned spirits prowling the warehouse and asked his own to guard his astral presence. He knew it would make him visible to those around him, but at least he was safe for the moment. The spirit did as it was asked and swirled away from his body to stand guard.

Noting the sudden appearance of the out of sorts professor by his side, ETG bellowed, “Where your friends at? Get ‘em down here!�

To punctuate his rather large friend’s command, Blaze ducked behind cover and yelled, “Go upstairs and help them get back here, we’ll cover you!�

Max looked up at the two runners through the hair that had fallen out of his pony tail and hung disheveled around his face. His eyes didn’t register understanding at first. He was still trying desperately to collect himself. As the words of what they were asking him to do sank in he almost asked them if they were out of their fraggin’ minds, but he was no dummy, that troll could and probably would use him as a toothpick if Max didn’t make himself scares. Max struggles into a crouch, keeping his body low. His limbs screamed in protest at having to move again. Max eyed the stairway and tensed, awaiting the gunfire that would signal his need to move.

21:25:02 Sunday, 14 January 2063 - One of many coffin motels, Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Above her parked car, the diffused light from the streetlight blinked on and off a few times, as is struggling with something only it could see. With her window only slightly cracked open, her seat reclined ever so slightly backwards, Ludmilla exhaled deeply. She had been sitting there, smoking cigarette after cigarette, the black hard plastic case sitting next to her. Between short black strands of rebellious hair, she watched Seattle's night traffic pass by; the white and blue light from their head lights dancing on her hard features. She brought the cigarette to her lips once again, pulling long and hard on it, the tip flaring to life. The Russian woman held the burning smoke in her lungs for as long as she could. She fought against the urge to release it for a breath of air. Finally, when tears had began to fill her eyes, she exhaled deeply, trying vainly to breath out her worries.

A few days ago, everything was fine. She wasn't fighting too much with Zina. Lana was doing good in school. Sure, she hadn't seen Miki in some time, but it happened... he was a busy man. But all in all, everything was doing alright. And then, out of nowhere, a drek storm had hit her full frontal. For one of the rare time in her life, Ludmilla had found herself in a spot so tight she wondered how she'd get out of it. Her free hand went up and started to massage the bridge of her nose as she sighed to herself. She wasn't a thinker. She'd never been one. She didn't ponder. She didn't mull over. She acted. When she had been kicked out of Officer Candidate School, the very last speech she had gotten from her instructor had been “I don't know what you're doing here Soren. You're a shooter, not a planner.� At least, they had been right about something.

Crushing the cigarette in the car's ashtray, she clicked shut the case and tucked it under the back seat. Across the half empty parking lot, she could see the coffin motel's neon sign flicker on and off, just like the streetlamp. Apparently, people were akin to not changing lightbulbs anymore.

21:28:17 Sunday, 14 January 2063 - One of many coffin motels, Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Ludi was rather glad the place was automated up drek creek. She wasn't in the mood to deal with any sort of teller a place like this could have employed. Sure, she hadn't picked some drek hole in the barrens, but it didn't mean the place was any nicer. Still wearing her business suit, but with her trusty chapka stuck on her head, Ludmilla made her way down the aisle of coffins until she'd found a free one, and slotted her credstick. With a faint hum, the tiny opaque glass door seemed to unpressure itself as it pop ever so slightly open, letting Ludi slide in. She hated coffins. Not that she was claustrophobic or anything. They were just always poorly ventilated... like people didn't smoke anymore. She cursed silently, slipping out of her jacket and emptying the contents of her pockets in one of the corner of the small space. Beside the “bed�, the only other piece of “furniture� in the coffin was the small telecom screen. Nothing fancy, but it would do the trick.

Pulling the jack cord next to the unit, she flipped her hair away from her right ear and popped the jack in. She'd heard of Matrix clubs before, and knew what they were in the general sense of things.... but she'd never been to one before. As she connected herself to the local grid, all she hoped was that the meeting would be quick and fruitful. Ludi still had plenty of things to do before sunrise... and needed to be ready for the job.

01:38:14 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

"Thank you," Leo said, pulling the second chair out from the table and sliding into the faux wood seat. He brought the saucer with the cup closer to himself, but waited to drink, aware of the eyes watching him demanding answers. A few details wouldn't hurt if chosen carefully.

"I joined during the Uprising, like a lot of young men at the time. Saw action outside Irkutsk and areas north from there, almost through the whole conflict, up until the Nightwraith Incident. Stayed on with the service afterward, a few operations in Europe, more at home; perhaps similar to your trouble with the government, I had my own disagreements with the military and ended up here." Leo gave the brief history in a cold litany, the pieces of his story uttered like a mantra that long ago lost any interest to its speaker. He brought the cup up and took a sip, and rolled the tea in his mouth from front to back as if to taste it more fully, or to rinse a taste from the tongue.

"This is very good," Leo said, nodding his head towards his drink before continuing, "my story is a common one, as you can see, but if there's anything more specific you would like me to cover feel free to ask."

22:04:17 Sunday, 14 January 2063 – Seattle LTG

One of the major reasons why Ludmilla disliked matrix clubs was the knowledge that none of the arsenal of physical combat skills she commanded would be of use. The realms of the matrix obeyed the laws of hardware, for all intents and purposes ambivalent to the nature of the flesh and blood which commanded them. This knowledge only added to her growing frustration as she bounced from one address to another, fruitless in her search for the individual known as Oracle.

Oh, people were helpful enough. Someone had always seen it at Avalon or Nexus or Tesseract. But none of those leads panned out, Ludi always seeming to be a step behind the elusive Oracle.

She held out little hope at what would probably be her last stop, a hacker hangout going by the name Palatine. The digital façade was one of an ancient Roman villa, fluted columns rising up from a low set of stairs beyond which a darkened doorway beckoned. The icons running security were clothed in the armor of Roman legionaries, and, although Ludi knew it was just the artifice of their programs, she could tell they were of a high quality. No one hassled her, though, as she stalked past, having already scanned her stock icon and determined she presented no serious threat.

The interior gives the impression of torch-lit vastness, vaulted stone ceilings concealed by a haze of data. Figures fade in and out, clustering briefly about bronze braziers, trading megapulses of information like salt and coinage. One of them breaks away from its group, moving silently across the mosaic floor. As it approaches, Ludi can see that it's a pale humanoid figure, faceless, with only the barest of shadows to suggest eyebrows and a nose. The icon is dressed in a simple leather jerkin and boots.

“I hear you’ve been looking for me. My name is Oracle.�

22:04:20 Sunday, 14 January 2063 – Seattle LTG

The flow of digital imagery fed directly into her optic nerves was already starting to give her a throbbing headache... and no matter how far her physical envelop might have been, she felt the craving for nicotine creep on into her brain. As the icon approached her, Ludi had the distinct feeling that whomever was behind the deck, they already knew where she was, and maybe even part of who she was. Hopefully, she had dodged enough to the motel's cameras to conceal part of her identity.

As she formulated the very words into her mouth, some rather canned sounding synth voice transmited them over the matrix.

“A common friend has recommended your services. I need information.�

01:41:54 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

“Spaisba� the man said, taking a sip from his cup of tea. “Even for us, it’s hard to find good stuff these days. Good people as well, which brings us to the business of today,� he looked to Roderick, still hunched over the teacup. For his part, Roderick at least somewhat composed himself, but still was trying to draw as little attention as possible, as if he thought that not being noticed might postpone or even hold off the Vory man’s attention by not moving.

Leo, studiously not paying attention but catching it in his peripheral vision, recognized his charge’s posture; he’d seen it before, not quite as obviously as Rod was displaying it, but the same fear of being asked for something that he didn’t have (and the consequences of not providing it) mixed with the just-get-this-over-with resignation of his position. Be careful of wolves in traps a sergeant once told Leo, but Rod was more like a defanged lapdog compared to any of the real Siberian wolves he’d encountered, canine or metahuman. He’d need to be cautious to keep this from spiraling out of control.

“Rod,� the man said sharply, causing Roderick’s body to almost physically snap to attention “why do you make yourself hard to get hold of? You don’t answer my calls, you don’t stop by, you make yourself scarce from where you normally are. That makes us nervous, as if a child has not come home from school at the time they should have. Do you have children, Mr.Denisov?� the man asked, softening his voice as he switched his attention (but not his eyes) to Leo from Roderick.

22:04:47 Sunday, 14 January 2063 – Seattle LTG

The faceless icon's posture doesn't waver, but Ludi has the distinct impression that it smiles.

"My primary purpose is as a research tool. You may employ my skills for a modest price and we can establish a regular meeting schedule. Or you may deliver a list of specific questions you desire answers to and I will contact you when I have a sufficiently detailed report. In either case, the cost is proportional to the time required to arrive at answers which satisfy you."

22:04:51 Sunday, 14 January 2063 – Seattle LTG

Whomever this decker type was, he was actually beginning to fall on Ludmilla's good side. He was clear and to the point. Her kind of man.... or woman....

"I need the list of all incoming and outgoing commcalls from this location" she started, sending over The Bakery's physical address.

"I only require the numbers coming in and out for the eleventh, as well as their physical location."

Ludi felt a bit guilty about sending some unknown party snoop around what was after all her very own backyard. Sascha might have been an asshole, but he was still Vory. Thinking of the Vory lieutenant, the young woman held back a sigh.

01:42:19 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Leo couldn't quite stop the low hiss that passed through his clenched teeth, nor the almost imperceptable growl that caught in the lower part of his throat. The noise was mostly covered by the grind-pop of the plastic synth wood of his chair cracking in his unconscious grip.

"No," Leo said slowly; he couldn't tell if his words shook as he tried to control their tempo, "I have no children." The statement had a certain finality to it that made even Roderick shoot an askew glance towards his body guard.

He couldn't be certain if the Vory was simply asking the question to intimidate, or if the gray suited man was sending a personal message, but Leo's assessment of the current situation suddenly rang all the more true in his mind; he would have take the rest of the meeting very cautiously, or everything could go drekstorm in a hurry.

01:46:44 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS


The Vory man turned his head to Leo at his response, appraising him for a moment before taking a sip from his tea. “Well, Mr. Denisov,� he said softly in the odd sentence cadence that English accented Russian sometimes carries while setting down his teacup on the saucer “,when you have wayward children, you’ve got to bring them back into the fold, as it were,� he said, miming a hug.

“Now, you can punish the child physically,� he continued, making a fist and lightly pounding it on the table once “,and certainly there are those of my profession that use that tactic first. While that is one way of discipline, I prefer to make the child realize their actions, their situation, and try to make amends for their digression.�

The man turned his attention back to Roderick. “You know, I’m losing confidence every time you don’t say ‘I have the money, Anatoly’,�

“You know,� Roderick began, almost squeaking the words out before clearing his throat and returning to his normal nasal tones, “You know I don’t have that money. But I will,�

Anatoly cut him off with a small slicing motion of his other hand. “But, but, but. All I’ve heard out of you is that you are good for the nuyen. And I know what you and your group are trying to get out. Oh, you don’t think that Gar and Isir haven’t been sniffing around, asking people questions? I keep my ear to the ground Rod,� Anatoly said, pulling one earlobe “, and I know what you are taking isn’t going to be enough to get the money you are going to need to pay me this time. No one that you’re going to talk to at this point, one day before a run, is going to…well, let’s just say you aren’t going to enough for your cut to make your payment.�

“You’ll get your money Anatoly,� Roderick said. Leo, even still a bit blinded from the anger of asking about his children, kept enough of his wits to not catch any real confidence in his response.

“I don’t think so, at least not the way you’re going,� Anatoly said. “You think Gar is going to fork over her share? Tory? Last week he was saying that he was going to enjoy taking your head off with his bare hands. Or so he told one of the bartenders in one of my bars. In more colorful language that I can play back for you, if you…�

“No,� Roderick croaked, looking visibly shaken. He didn’t know what way this was going, but it wasn’t going the way he had planned when he walked up the stairs, and defiantly not the way he saw it when he and Leo left the flat this morning.

“So you see why I don’t have much confidence in getting my money back that way. You know what would? What would give me some reassurance? What would wipe your slate clean? What would give you what your team won’t? Do you know what that is, Rod?� Anatoly said, leaning in to Rod’s side of the table.

“What?� Rod asked.

“Rod, I want the container number. The one you are supposed to get of the that yard tomorrow,� Anatoly said.

22:05:39 Sunday, 14 January 2063 – Seattle LTG

Oracle nodded.

"PacRim jealously guards their databases. It will be easy enough if the numbers are associated with physical addresses, but something else entirely if they are personal comm units. Triangulating the current location of commlinks is time consuming and resource intensive. The cost is commensurate. Fifteen hundred nuyen for the fixed locations, an additional six thousand for locating any commlinks."

00:22:06 Thursday 11 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

""What do I think? I think you should make tracks for the hills as soon as possible. I think you're mixed up in something big and when the last domino falls it's going to fall hard. I've got some suspicions but I've got more fact checking to do. When I know more, you'll know more."

There was no way to tell if HardBitten's words bothered her at all. If anything, the soft breath that escaped her seemed calm. Halfway serene. Cosmo smiled ruefully, glad to experience a bit of something familiar after all this time, even if it was a chat with her cantankerous contact from "the good ol days." It was possible that he'd even help a bit, so long as her cash reserves held out. She nodded briefly, knowing he wouldn't speculate with her at this point, and offered a quick salute to the trid screen.

"Duly noted. We'll discuss how much I owe you later."

Of course she was leaving Los Angeles as soon as she found a way out of this.

A week and a half, tops. Better start getting used to the idea, eh toots?

Cosmo turned quickly, hiding the confused lowering of perfect blonde eyebrows. She was leaving, right?

The apartment seemed suddenly smaller as she paced to the end of the room and braced her palms against the now-spotless wall. Her eyes drifted shut, long dark lashes sweeping across pale cheeks as a familiar image slipped, unbidden, into her mind's eye.

.... For a moment, silence connected them, broken only by the steady rumble of the Roadmaster's diesel. Caska's expressions, so minute as to be missed by one less skilled than she, were a bonfire in the dim half-light. She could feel the nova of will inside him, the relentless energies capable of so much damage, held in check by such a narrow margin. His voice was a low, vicious snarl, fueled by adrenaline and passion.

"I would burn the world down for you. If you call, I will find you. Nothing will stop me."

She shuddered. All the old arguments came to mind as well; she was not like other people and couldn't afford to fall prey to what another woman would embrace with open arms. There had always been men, would always be men, so why waste a second thinking about this one? Cosmo frowned, lowering her forehead until it touched the wall. She pressed harder, lithe muscles straining as if to fight an answer she couldn't deny.

There had been other men, certainly, but they were (with only a few exceptions) clay in her hands; weak creatures she could manipulate at will, their attraction to her blinding them to her true intentions. Some thought they could control her, some were even allowed to do so for a while, but in the end she took what she wanted and left without a backward glance. In spite of the apparent differences in the men she'd pursued, they were all so painfully similar that she'd developed a certain degree of cynicism regarding the "stronger" sex. Caska, though, had seen through her maneuvering almost immediately and joined in her Game, offering a challenge (and a distraction) too enticing to resist.

Had she won? Or was the victory his?

Long strands of satiny hair fell across her face as she gave her head a shake and groaned quietly. What did it matter? All she knew was that she could still feel his hands on her if she thought about it enough and that for one glorious night she had felt completely secure, a luxury she had not enjoyed since waking in a the streets of Seattle so many years ago. If she missed him this much after six days, what could she expect the in weeks and months ahead? Leaving, even for the sake of her own hide, was a bleak prospect but staying in spite of what she'd learned would be foolish.

There were more than just the Kalds and their machinations to consider. Others hunted her for reasons she didn't understand.

Bringing others into her fight here put them at a greater than normal risk, clearly, but then she could trust Scrye and Hardbitten to remain objective and back out when things go badly. Caska might not.

It was a compelling argument to leave her lover behind and simply carry on alone. She could hire some muscle to help her out of Death Valley, pay a small fortune for an extraction to Seattle, and start all over again. He'd be in no more danger than he was right now with the added benefit of not entangling himself with some crazy amnesiac slitch from the Emerald City.

Now you're just feeling sorry for yourself. You trust the fragger as much as you've trusted anyone out here and we might need someone that's not going to give up on you before this is all over. Just deal with it.

Cosmo grimaced, hoping that the trid screen had gone blank by now.

Trembling fingers plucked a seldom-used psec from the kitchen counter. It took four tries for her shaking hands to get the number right.

00:22:11 Thursday 11 January 2063 - Los Angeles, CFS

"Call for you, boss."

Caska cocked his head to the side in some confusion in response to Karnak's message over the net. He wasn't expecting a call from anyone, especially now that they were in the execution phase of the operation. Sensing his leader's hesitation, the slim decker provided amplifying information.

"It's her."

"Oh!" said Vegas, out loud. Caska shot her a look, but she didn't try and hide the expression of glee which painted her face.

"Switch me up and vet the transmission. Make sure no one's shadowing her."

Caska stepped outside onto the narrow balcony, closing the door behind him, cutting off the decker's affirmitive.

"Well, well, sleeping beauty. I was hoping I'd hear from you again."

00:22:24 Thursday 11 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo smiled slightly.

"Hope? I thought I'd made it clear that I was a sure thing, Watchdog."