00:22:31 Thursday 11 January 2063 - Los Angeles, CFS

A rare smile flashed across his face, invisible in the darkness of the night surrounding the apartment.

"You and I both know there's no such thing as certain in this business."

He paused, knowing that it was an unsecure line, knowing that he was in the middle of an operation, and knowing that suddenly those things seemed to matter less than the did before he met her.

"How are you?" he settled for, not minding the ordinary sounding question, because the context behind it spoke volumes.

00:22:50 Thursday 11 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

The seemingly innocuous question warmed her. She found herself leaning, rather than straining against the cool wall.

"Busy. We're about week away from closing a major deal," and my nerves are shot. "No sign of the competition yet, thank goodness."

00:23:02 Thursday 11 January 2063 - Los Angeles, CFS

Caska nodded to himself, relieved although he knew enough about her that he suspected this call only occured because she'd maneuvered into some breathing space. A wry grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as he formulated his reply.

"That's good news. Do you think you'll be cashing that check I sent you anytime soon?"

00:23:15 Thursday 11 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

Wanting to answer with a simple "yes!" more than anything, Cosmo knew that she was in no position to be making dates. For now.

"Soon enough. I'll have to stay flexible for a while longer," she smiled, remembering a night not too long ago ... "but all signs point to a bit of downtime in the very near future."

00:23:33 Thursday 11 January 2063 - Los Angeles, CFS

"That's good, I won't have enough funds in the account to cover it until Monday," he replied, keeping his tone to casual banter.

"I'll expect your call then?"

01:47:44 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Leo continued to bristle as the conversation carried on its dangerous course. As expected the words were getting stronger, the threats less implicit, and it was going to be a delicate balancing act to prevent bodily harm to the wilting mage in negotiations. Indignation and revenge would have to wait, for Roderick's safety, as difficult as both were to suppress.

Through this haze of thoughts and bitterness, a minute motion at the window caught Leo's eye. A micro-drone had affixed itself to the exterior, small antenna panning for signal, while a companion miniblimp hovered at a greater distance, dish pointed at the apartment. The certainty that both had not been present when the meeting began was concerning enough to briefly suppress other concerns.

One of Roderick's friends had been a rigger or decker - Leo had talked to the surly tech-wiz earlier that day - and these might be their drones, but that didn't mean it was safe. From the conversation at hand not all of Rod's "friends" were looking out for his best interests, and Leo's client may not want them listening in on such an important meeting. Some secrets were always a necessity in this line of work. Other Vory or rival syndicates could be the culprits, and this wouldn't have caused any great distress for Leonid, except that it could lead to unexpected and uncontrolled external violence that would threaten the man he had been hired to protect. The Vory here likely wouldn't have any great need for subtlety in the matters at hand. At the very least bringing them up might buy some extra time and forestall more discussion, and if the guards noticed them first - surprising that it hadn't happened that way - it could be even more trouble. The situation would be best if used by acting on it immediately and thereby gaining some semblance of control over it.

Deciding such, Leo lifted his hand from the table in front of him and nodded his head towards the mechanical surveillance in the window. "Friends of your?" he asked evenly, "or should we be concerned?"

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

They were pinned down and nothing he had done so far had worked. John knelt with his back against the wall, clutching his smoking Ingram. He growled and slammed the back of his head against the wall in frustration. As bits of shattered glass and chunks of wall board fell from his shoulders and hair, the old runner realized that he still clenched a cigarette between his teeth. It had long ago been extinguished by the rain, and was now mangled, soggy, and limp, nearly bitten in two. He spat it out, idly wished he had time to light another.

If only that fraggin' girl hadn't run off, maybe we coulda got down them stairs by now, he thought bitterly. A quick glance in her direction showed that she wasn't fairing any better than he. He briefly thought about helping, but knew he didn't dare. His first responsibility was getting Nora out of here in one piece. Nothing else mattered right now. Just need ta think of a fraggin way out o' this drekstorm. No fraggin' problem...

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. It was a sensation he recognized, though it had been a long time since he felt anything similar. He almost panicked before remembering Lady Dove. He could see her speaking to thin air; looking at something he couldn't see. He smiled grimly. Maybe they still had a chance.

Risking a quick glance around the corner, Scrapheap noted the position of the gunmen before ducking back behind the bullet riddled wall. Using his smartlink, he changed the Ingram's fire mode to "full-auto" and ejected his nearly-empty clip. Catching it in his hand, he reached into the satchel and smoothly exchanged it for a full clip, pulled his hand free, and slammed the clip home.

He watched as his smartlink display changed to show a full load, then leaned back against the wall to wait for their chance.

22:05:43 Sunday, 14 January 2063 – Seattle LTG

As the faceless icon explained his pricing, Ludmilla did her best not to cringe. It wasn't that she was particularly surprised, but she knew all too well that her own bank account was almost dry. There were still a million things she need to get not only for Lana, but for her aunt also. She had even convinced herself to try to get enough cash together to move out of their nasty den in Renton into an actual house. But knowledge had its price, and no matter how the young woman looked at it, over and over, she'd have to pay for it.

After all, if what Yuri knew ever got out, she would never have enough cred to buy her way out of jail. She simply had to do it. Not for her, but for Lana.

Ludmilla forced her icon to nod curtly.

“Ok.� was all she said at first, letting her words hang in the virtual air.

“Do not track any commlinks, at least not now. If I decide to go that way, I will inform you.�

22:05:54 Sunday, 14 January 2063 – Seattle LTG

Oracle inclines its head in understanding.

"Twenty four hours to do the work. Five hundred up front to prime the pump. Would you prefer to meet here again when I have the information or would you prefer other arrangements?"

From the way that the pale icon phrases its last question, Ludi guesses that a physical meet is probably out of the question.

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

Steeling himself against all rational thought, Max waited for the next burst of gunfire that would be his signal. It certainly happened sooner than he would have liked. The enormous Troll wheeled his enormous gun over the makeshift barricade and unleashed another deadly storm of lead.

'GO!' His thoughts screamed and his body obeyed. Max ran for the staircase, doing what he could to keep low without sacrificing speed. His heart pounded and his arm throbbed in pain, but he kept his legs moving, determined to help his friend and the two young ladies that may know something about what happened to Keira.

22:06:07 Sunday, 14 January 2063 – Seattle LTG

Ludmilla felt her hands tighten back in the meat world. Deckers weren't particularly known to meet anyone outside of their own comfort zone... and Ludi wasn't close to being any sort of techno adept. At least, in the physical realm of things, she might have been able to bully him into lowering his price.

Too bad intimidation didn't work quite as well when you were, probably, stashed out, miles away, in a plushy chair.

“Give me an account number. I will wire you the money.�

She stopped a few seconds, trying to figure out how she would handle the following step.

“I'll set up a drop box. Do you have a way I can reach you?�

With each second that ticked by, Ludmilla grew more and more uneasy. She didn't particularly like virtual meeting. Hell! She didn't even like real meat meeting. All in all, she didn't like meetings at all. She was a field person. And right now, she felt all she did was play off the field.

Tomorrow, she'd get the job done.
After that, Oracle would come through with the location where Yuri was held.
She'd get rid of the problem.
Then she'd find a way to take care of Sascha.
Things would work out.
They had to.

22:06:21 Sunday, 14 January 2063 – Seattle LTG

Oracle cups its hands together, blowing into them. Ludi is somewhat surprised to see a pale blue light glow in between its fingers. Opening up its hands, Oracle offers a flickering pale blue candleflame to Ludi. The slim russian hesitantly stretches out her hand and touches the flame. Information flows across her vision as the file automatically transfers itself, a long alphanumeric string identifying Oracle's account.

"You can always find me here. If I am not, leave your message with the InnKeeper. He knows how to contact me."

21:17:02 Sunday, 14 January 2063 - One of many coffin motels, Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

With the mental flick of a switch, Ludi transfered the information from the telecom unit into her pocket secretary.

"Good. I will be back in 48 hours."

Without adding a single other word, Ludmilla disconnected herself from the virtual realm.

Slowly, her physical senses became her own again. The cramped interior of the coffin started blurry and sharpened itself slowly. A small ball of throbbing pain bounced around the back of her head as she pull the optical cable out of her data jack. With a heavy sigh, she massaged her temple, trying to shove the dizzyness deep down her throat. She hated having her own senses pulled away from her. She felt vulnerable... and being vulnerable wasn't something for Ludi.

Taking the credstick she had gotten from the Scratch and Byte gig, she slotted it inside the coffin's reader, manually dialing in the account and wiring the cred over to God only knew where... That is, if God was a damn good decker.

The transaction complete, Ludi waited a few seconds, simply lying on her back and staring at the cushioned ceiling of the coffin. It was almost tempting to spend the night here. No one would come disturb her. No one knew where she was. She was out of touch.

Shaking the thought away from her mind, she pushed the door open with her boot, sliding rather gracefully out of the tiny coffin. The night was still rather young, but morning would rear its ugly head probably faster than she'd like.

Tonight, she'd have to skip going home. It was straight to the shop to check out all the gear and get ready for tomorrow's job.

Quite some time since I've gotten a beauty sleep.

Monday January 8, 2063; 18:23:00; I-405; Seattle UCAS

The three of them sat in the car and talked as the autopilot drove, moving them closer to the target site while they worked out options.

The pick up of the gear had been no problem, but the information that Sybersnake had gotten them had made the task all the more difficult. So now with his trunk full of gear and his credstick considerably lighter Erebus had the car's autopilot moving them to a hotel near the airport, while they argued options. He still had the two runner's to contact, and time was ticking away if they were to be contracted and prepared for any kind of action in the near future.

The airport's security was insane, far more than just the three of them could hope to breach in the next couple of hours. Options were tossed out and discarded nearly as fast, each avenue to get onto the airport grounds and into the hanger came with more risks and error factors than they could possibily handle.

"No. There is no way we could make an assault on that hanger without setting off some kind of alarm. Even if we could get into the hanger without being detected I don't see any real way to recover our target without alerting Knight Errant security and we're not going to do anyone any good getting noosed on the way out of that hanger. I just don't see a way to make the extraction on the airport grounds, not with any kind of safety margin, I say we have to make the extraction while on the move to the airport." He'd said this before, trying to convince Sybersnake of the necessity despite the increased risks to the child inherent in ambushing the vehicles while on the move.

"That's crazy," the decker's voice was harsh with emotion held in rigid check, "we don't even know what they'll be driving in or what kind of force will be with him. Unless we just blow up all the vehicles we see there's no way we can be any safer hitting them on the move then once they get to hanger. I say we hire a plane to get us onto the grounds and then make a lightning raid from the plane to the hanger and then a quick retreat. At least that way we know what kind of security force we're up against!"

This argument had gone back and forth for the last thirty minutes, facts and figures, plans and options rolling back and forth between them without either one making much headway. Sybersnake wanted to take the option with the least risk to the child despite the increased obstacles they'd have to overcome, while Erebus insisted that an attack at the airport was beyond their capabilities in the time and budget they had available. Finally Dragon broke the tie.

"I don't see a feasible assault plan on the airport in the time we have. I think we'll have to accept the risks and hit them on the move. We'll just have to be careful how we plan the assault to minimize risks to the boy."

Erebus didn't smile at the victory, there were all sorts of emotional interplay between the decker and the other samurai that he couldn't understand, all carried on in a silent exchange of looks. Finally, her shoulders slumped in defeat, Sybersnake nodded her acceptance of the plan.

"Fine, we'll do it that way. How do you propose we identify which car is carrying our target." She said the word target bitterly, and Erebus could hear the emotion in the word. It felt like she was too close to this situation, like she couldn't be objective about it. No matter what the situation, a pro had to be objective, he believed that.

"We'll hire the mage the kid's contact put him onto and verify that he can summon a few watchers to search the area for him. It'll be nearly impossible for them to have the vehicles warded. We'll also get the rigger up with a couple of observation platforms and maybe an assault drone for fire power. We'll do the on-site assault and make sure we protect the boy. It's the only way." Dragon's voice shifted from it's normally unemotional proto-sociopathic tones into what in another person Erebus would almost call sympathetic.

18:57:04 Monday, 08 January 2063 - McHugh's #608, 3075 Westbrook Lane, Seattle, UCAS

The fast food joint was five blocks from the passenger terminal of the airfield, close enough that the business jets departing from the runway shook the ceiling as they passed overhead. The frequency was certainly nowhere near that of Sea-Tac, or the Boeing field, but often enough that none of the three runners hunched over one of the far booths would have considered living here. Sybersnake had remained sullen about the plan chosen until Dragon snapped at her one word answers to questions. She'd turned with the kind of fiery-eyed expression which always meant either really good things or really bad things, before her entire face seemed to crumble away, revealing a numb, emotionless expression. After that, she had participated with the same detached and professional attitude that both Dragon and Erebus had seen before. In between now and then, though, with most of the operational considerations ironed out, she simply sat and stared out the window at the snow covered ground outside.

The bell on the door rang, and Dragon kicked Erebus' foot under the table. The young elf turned to see a pair of men standing just inside the door. The taller one, elven by the looks of him although his head and ears were covered by a dark navy blue watch cap, nodded towards them, and followed his shorter companion down the narrow aisle to join them at the booth. The human was a slightly overweight young man, maybe late twenties, wearing a heavy winter coat and gloves. Neither one really fit the stereotype of 'shadowrunner' but, then, looks can be deceiving. Both Dragon and Erebus can tell that their armed, nothing heavier than a pistol, though.

"Good evening," said the elf, "I believe you're expecting us? Call me Shard. And my friend is Bridger. What can we do for you?"

00:23:42 Thursday 11 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

Busy until Monday.

She nodded, content to cut the call short. Somehow it was enough to hear that he was all right, that they'd see one another soon enough. A soft breath escaped as she sagged against the wall, entertaining dangerous thoughts of aquamarine waves and white sand between her toes; strong arms wrapped around her and Caska's warm breath on her skin. Her voice dropped to a throaty contralto.

"Count on it. Try to stay out of trouble, hmm?"

00:24:01 Thursday 11 January 2063 - Los Angeles, CFS

Caska chuckles, a low, raspy, wicked sound.

"Come now, what fun would that be? Trouble is just another synonym for fun. I'll talk to you soon, lady."

He closed down the transmission, staring out into the darkness of the night. The door opened behind him, and he knew without looking that it was Vegas. For a moment only the sounds of the city joined them. Then he sighed.

"Don't worry. It's compartmentalized. We're moving on the current op."

"Oh I don't care about that," smiled Vegas, "I just want to know what she said."

Caska shook his head, motioning his teammate back inside so they could prep for insertion.

"Women," he muttered.

18:57:30 Monday January 8, 2063 McHughs Westbrook Lane- Seattle UCAS

Erebus looked up at the other runners and gestured to the open seats across from he and Dragon, he allowed the other runners to settle before he spoke.

"I'm Erebus, we're looking at a simple play here, at the very least it's straight forward. We're extracting our target, human male adolescent, from the people who've kidnapped him. He's being transported out of the sprawl in the next 24 hours via airplane and we need to get him before he's out of the sprawl. We need drone and magical cover, which is where you come in."

He kept his voice low and his eyes moving, looking for anyone in the area paying too much attention to their gathering. While he spoke he rested his right hand on the table and drummed his fingers as though impatient. He knew the other runners would notice the finger tapping and they might get the wrong idea which meant he might pay more, but tapping on the table would prevent anyone from aiming a laser at anything on the table and 'listening' to their conversation by reading the vibrations.

18:58:21 Monday, 08 January 2063 - McHugh's #608, 3075 Westbrook Lane, Seattle, UCAS

Shard glanced at his companion before nodding cautiously.

"Sounds like what we were briefed on. I've got the magic side covered, nothing too heavy or too fancy, but I can keep astral clear and I can keep spirits off you as well. My partner here is a surveillance master, but neither one of us packs a lot of firepower."

13:50:31 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Seattle Aquarium, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

Though he still had no idea what to say, Eyes knew he'd have to say something the second he saw Angela's expression, and heard the anger and hurt in her voice. He would be the one to break, to speak first. But then, that's how it is, isn't it? That's how it's always been. She leads, you follow. She presses, you bend. She asks, you give. That's why you ran so quick the last time. It was a mistake, sure, but it was your mistake. But you can't well tell her that, can you? Better start thinking of a good excuse...

Eyes caught himself. He'd been referring to himself in the second person again, as "you" rather than "I". It was disorienting, but still... familiar somehow. But the worst part, the most disturbing, was that the thoughts in his head seemed slightly disconnected from his "real" thoughts, as crazy as that sounded. He remembered a time it had happened before, shortly after that night, the worst night of his life.

It was a dark evening, overcast and humid, but still cool in that way you can only get in the Bay Area. Eyes was cool and confident, slicing and sleazing his way into the warehouse like he owned the place. That new trick he'd learned a week ago was working better than he could have hoped; not even the University's surveillance drones could find him. Even if they could it wouldn't matter; between him and Jane most of the cameras had been disabled or looped; it'd be hours before anyone knew they'd been there. All he had to do was get to the loading bay door and open it from the inside, then he and the rest of the team could practically clean the place out before the guard, asleep at his post, started his rounds.

"Wait, wait, Angela, please... I'm sorry," said Eyes, all the heat and frustration gone from his voice, "I've been working over this exact conversation in my head for months--years, even, and the only points I seem to be hitting are the stupid, angry, useless ones. I keep forgetting that I haven't actually apologized yet; I keep trying to come up with the right words that will make everything better, but I haven't even said any of the imperfect ones, any of the stuff I've been trying to work up the nerve to say. I've always been that way; I spend so much time thinking of brilliant things to do, and then what I end up actually doing is stupid and wrong."

He was a dozen steps from the door and victory, and then, with a flicker of light and a faint whiff of brimstone, it all came apart. Eyes ducked behind a shelf as ball of fire whizzed past where his head had been moments before. He glanced behind him and saw... a monster, a burning, fiery demon, glaring at him through molten eyes, right through all his little parlor tricks, everything. "SURRENDER," it said, his menacing voice booming through Eyes's mind.

"I mean, why I left," Eyes continued, "It wasn't so much that that, thing, beat me up. Lord knows even after all that time I spent working at it, I'd probably still lose in a straight-up fight, to you, Carla, probably even that nervous kid Stan, let alone a Fire Elemental. I came to terms with being weak and pathetic back in school."

Eyes was quivering in his Doc Martens, but he still wasn't panicking. He had planned on what he'd do if he were spotted, even if the plan was a bit improvised and hadn't counted on some kind of demon monster from hell. He called on the other spell he learned recently, the stunner, the only weapon he carried, once it had become obvious that his talents did not extend in any way to firearms. He reached down, deep inside himself... and came up with nothing. Not even a whimper; it was like he had been dreaming the whole time, and had never actually been able to do any of it. The monster growled, the fire around it glowing brighter and more real...

"It wasn't that it had seen me through my disguise, or that I couldn't do anything to even hold him off for a second," Eyes said. "I'm not even sure how afraid I am of it. I don't really remember a whole lot of what happened after it caught me. They told me I was very, very lucky, if you can call being blown through an aluminum garage door by an exploding gas cylinder 'lucky.'"

Eyes lay in his bed, battered and bruised. His world was filled with incoherent grays and black static; his eyes were glitching, and the docs refused to fix them until he was fully recovered.

You can't go on like this, you know, Eyes thought. You're losing yourself, in a cause that, frankly, you don't believe in. You are here, not for your own beliefs, but because some woman crooked her finger, and you went. It's past time you started thinking about yourself, and not other people's expectations of you.

"I think what really convinced me I had to get out was when I was recovering, and I thought to myself, 'What if I had died?' What would my memorial be? 'James Fuller, 2037-2061: He lived and died fighting the Japanese'?"

Eyes shook his head. "Is that really what I want my whole life to be about? Fighting a guerrilla war against the Japs? I'm not a soldier. I hate violence. I didn't even fight back in school when the kids beat me up 'cause they said I looked at 'em funny; remember that? What in the world was I doing fighting a war?"

Almost unconsciously, Eyes reached down into a drawer, and pulled out the old pair of eyeglasses he had as a child, the ones he wore for years until his vision worsened and the doctors had them replaced. The ones he kept to remind him of how he had changed, and what he had been through. Time to see the world through your eyes, he thought, the ones you were meant to have, before all these outside influences came to color your judgment. He put on the glasses, and, though they didn't do a thing to correct his vision anymore, all of a sudden the world seemed a little clearer. It's looking like a new day for me, Eyes thought, as he stretched back on his bed, waiting for the time he could make good on the promise he had just made with himself.

"That, I think, frightened me more than anything else," Eyes said, "That I was just becoming some nameless soldier in a never-ending war against the Japs. I know it's an idiot thing to think, but it seemed to make so much sense at the time. I mean, twenty-five years. Twenty-five years they've been marching their jack-boots through the Bay, and the way things were going it seemed they'd be there another twenty-five, indoctrinating generations of free Californians into their racist bulldr-um, ideology. I hated that idea--I still do--but I didn't want my whole life to be devoted to hating someone, even if they were evil. I wanted to build things, to discover things, and it was all being put on hold, to be a soldier.

"So I left. I ran, like a scared little rabbit. I told myself that I was just 'clearing my head,' 'looking at things through new eyes,' 'finding myself,' that sort of hippie nonsense. I've made a lot of mistakes since then, but the worst, the very worst, was not telling you or anyone else why I left. I guess even then I knew that I was being irrational; I just wanted to work it out myself." Pfeh, yeah right. You knew that the moment you told her, she's make her doe-eyes and draw you right back in. You ran from everything and everyone, but her more than most.

Eyes grimaced. "It was wrong; it was selfish; it was stupid. And what I want, more than anything else, what I've wanted since I left like that, is to make it right. What can I do to make up for it? I'll help you find Janet. I'll help you charm these murdering thugs into not killing her, and everyone else, if someone else makes a better offer or something. I'll even go three rounds with the fire elemental--though I hope I hope I hope it doesn't come to that.

"Just please, please tell me there's something I can do to make this better," Eyes said, no longer bothering to hide the scared child who still lived, who'd always live, behind his cold metal eyes. "I need your help, Angela, because after all this time, this is the best I can do, and I don't think it's good enough. How do I fix this?"

19:47:32 Friday 11 January 2063 - 372 W Lexington Ave, Pomona, CFS

For Cosmo, the hours that passed were busy ones remarkably free of introspection. She planned heavily, reconned patiently, and even set aside an hour for a heavenly soak in the newly scoured tub. She came out of it centered, clean and content. Still, nervous energy and the knowledge that even one botch in the next few days could jeopardize everything kept her from being too comfortable. Somehow she was able to put Caska and the Kalds from her mind and focus on the interesting challenges ahead of her.

The mirage slowed as she slipped through traffic, eyes sharp and alert as she scanned the front of Strand Valley High School from the parking lot of a nearby coffee shop. She was early, of course, but what else was new? An average passerby would note a slim woman in black casually checking her motorcycle's tire pressure; for an operator, the bike served as a bit of concealment, hiding her face from any surveillance, real or imagined, that might trip her up later.

19:54:17 Friday 12 January 2063 - 372 W Lexington Ave, Pomona, CFS

Like most high schools these days, Strand Valley High was a collection of connected red brick buildings, most of only two stories. Cosmo is willing to bet the large, four story structure closest to the parking lot is the gymnasium. A tall fence of vertical iron rods surrounds the campus, a decorative security measure that still serves to keep those interested in casual mayhem from entering school grounds. A large pair of gates stand open, one for incoming traffic and the other for outgoing. A pair of bored, overweight security guards wander around the small kiosk next to the gates, trying to look official. Hand lettered signs and banners advertise the Winter Fantasy dance taking place tonight starting at eight p.m. Cosmo can also see a series of security cameras mounted on the school buildings, covering the main entrances as well as most of the parking lot. It never pays to be too careful when it comes to teenage shennanigans.

19:56:29 Friday 12 January 2063 - 372 W Lexington Ave, Pomona, CFS

At the very core of herself, Cosmo was not a patient person but she made a point of breathing deep and only focusing on the timestamp imprinted on the upper corner of her left lens once every minute or so. She scanned tirelessly; the guards were not likely to notice her and it was reasonable to assume that any camera with a possible angle on her face was on the other side of nearly 175 kilos of metal alloy and fiberglass. It was cause for concern, if not proper worry.

One more minute ticked by. Long, gloved fingers slipped the helmet back on as she straightened and "relaxed" on the leather seat.

Two minutes left.

One.

20:07:42 Friday 12 January 2063 - 372 W Lexington Ave, Pomona, CFS

Punctuality is not a virtue that most high schoolers are gifted with. Despite the steady stream of towne cars and limos arriving, Cosmo doesn't see her target until nearly ten minutes after eight. And then the only thing that sets apart the Nightsky from all the other nearly identical vehicles is the Elite registration number stenciled on its rear bumper. From her vantage point, she watches as the limo waits patiently through the cue of cars near the entrance to the school, finally disgorging a handful of couples. The girls are done up with care, hair perfectly coiffed and makeup expertly applied. The boys seem somehow awkward in their finery, as if they haven't quite garnered the knowledge of how to move when wearing a suit and tie.

18:58:59 Monday, 08 January 2063 - McHugh's #608, 3075 Westbrook Lane, Seattle, UCAS

Dragon doesn't so much as look at Sybersnake. Emotion had no more place here. Now it was all about business, pure and simple. If they did their job right, the emotions would work themselves out later. If not...there was no 'if not'. They would succeed. It was just a question of 'how'.

"Overwhelming firepower is not a concern. The correct type of firepower is our priority in this situation. Specifically, what non-lethal options are at your disposal? Incapacitation is the order of the day for this job and is a prerequisite for us to complete this op successfully."

19:00:02 Monday, 08 January 2063 - McHugh's #608, 3075 Westbrook Lane, Seattle, UCAS

Shard nodded in response to Dragon's question as if he'd been expecting it.

"I am so equipped: ranged, area effect. I'm not a stand up and fight kind of guy, though, so don't expect to see me in the thick of things, dusting it up."

He glanced at his companion, who shrugged.

"Yeah, I can do non-lethal, too. Right now the LMG is loaded with explosive frangible so I might not be able to get gel in time."

23:11:29 Saturday, 13 January 2063 - Boston, MA, UCAS

The room was dark, lit only by a couple of LED glowstrips on the dresser. Pathan liked it that way, it was more comfortable for his eyes. He lay in bed, his left arm pillowed behind his head while Jeannie curled naked next to him, her head on his chest, eyes closed and resting after their most recent coupling. Already, though, his mind was ticking over the execution of the plan. It was relentless, he couldn't help himself. Two and a half years of careful planning were coming to a head. Soon. Three more days. And then....

Pathan smiled in the darkness, no longer tired.

"Are you really going to do it?" whispered Jeannie. He glanced down to find her eyes on him, liquid blue in the near-darkness of the room. He nodded, watching as she chewed on her bottom lip.

"People are going to die, though. Many people."

Pathan shrugged. "So be it. When you are giving birth to something, there has to be pain. The act of creation is often, equally, the act of destruction. The Hindu's understood this very well when they created a goddess who's dance created and destroyed the world at the same time."

"But why?" pressed Jeannie.

"Because I love you," replied Pathan. She blinked in some surprise, not expecting those words from him. He smiled.

"I love you so much that I want to make the world a better place for you. I don't want to see you live your life every day as a slave to the established order. I don't want you to be just a number, just a statistic for the corporations. So because I love you so much, I'm going to make a new world for you. One where everyone is equal. Where no one has power over another, where wealth doesn't matter, and where people can finally be happy." As he spoke, he brought his right hand up so he could stroke her cheek. His left had slipped beneath the pillow to find the Colt Manhunter he always kept there. Jeannie gave him a quizzical look, not quite believing him, but conflicted in her emotions. He smiled.

"Do you know what the meaning of love is, baby?" he asked.

"I know what it means to me," she whispered, smiling softly. "What does it mean to you?"

"Sacrifice," Pathan replied, matter of factly, and shot her in the head.

01:49:21 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Conversation stopped at Leo’s remark, and in another time and place the various sets of eyes tracing Leo’s hand motion toward the window would have been enough to pull a smile on the Russian vets face. The apparent mage sitting on the couch began to stare intently at the small drone on the window until Anatoly snapped his fingers. “Demtri, call Misha. You, do your job for once,� the Vor said to the muscle as he got up and moved out of the line of sight of the windows. The not-worthy-to-be-named muscle drew a Predator from his cheap suit jacket and advanced to the window.

01:49:21 Thursday, 11 January 2063-15015 E Roy St. Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Shit Gar thought. Pitching her voice to carry back to the cargo area, she yelled “Isir, games up. Unless you have enough to buy me another one by tonight…�

“Get it out of there,� Isir said, slipping out the earpiece that had been numbing his ear and shifting a little on the hard metal bench that lined one side of the interior of the Bulldog. A more muted “Roger,� came from the front seat. “She’s not kidding either, we’ll have to move tonight if we want that container. How long do you think he’ll hold out?� he asked the ork across to him, balancing on the narrow jumpseat between the sliding door and the drone racks behind the wire cage; Gar hadn’t ever bothered to put back in the main seating after ripping it out to install the racks in the back and only put in the Spartan seating when Tory had threatened to shoot down the mini-blimp the next time she brought it out.

Tory shrugged. “Harsh language? Surprised that fat fragger didn’t tell them already. That guy you hired might be the only thing keeping him in one piece,� he said, working his feet and shoulders to work off the twichiness and frustration at the overall situation. “So, we goin’ with Plan B then?� the ork asked.

One time, high on a successful job, Long Haul, and as drunk as one could get while on that vile hookah on good, real Scotch, sitting at a molded plastic desk at whatever shithole doss he’d managed to find for the next few days to hole up in, Isir had tried to calculate up exactly how much each one of them owed each other. Gar, bitch that she could be, didn’t ask for more than she and the team needed to get more and better jobs, and all of them realized the utility that she brought. Tory, with all of his terseness and ‘screw-you-I’m-going-to-shoot-someone’ rhetoric, had bailed them out in enough cock-ups and general drek that none of them begrudged this or that cyberlimb repair or replacement, or ammo when it came to that. His own training and…issues were mostly paid out of his own earnings, but when money was needed, none of them had an issue with coming up with the cred to pay a bribe to whoever was asking for it.

He did the deals that kept Gar in drones and Tory in ammo, and all four in good health, drink, and hot soy. He did the deals to get to the people that got the drones, cyber, surgery, initiation for Rod and himself. For the most part, his demons were ones that lived in his dreams, and he could no more avenge his parents than slay a dragon barehanded. That Simone had a good education as far away from his life as possible was enough for him.

All good things…

Isir sighed. He didn’t want to cut Rod loose, and still thought that (when he wasn’t in debt or trying to get into debt) a great asset to the team but it was a lot easier to get another mage than to put together another team right now. Isir pulled out his psec and started dialing Zedya’s drop. Better chance with him than with Nas

“Yep. Plan B.� Isir said quietly to Tory. “Got a little manpower issue Z…� he said into the phone.


01:51:01 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

About the time that everyone had registered that yes, there was a drone on the window, it released the suction microphone arm from the window and began crawling up the pockmarked limestone structure. The muscle hauled on the window to lift it, but a hundred years of paint, caulk and sealant over the window defeated him. He was about to punch through the glass when Anatoly yelled for him to stop.

“Check the roof you fool,� he said. Dimitry broke in from the couch. “The blimp’s moving toward the roof. Want Misha shoot it down?� the mage said.

“Nyet, have him meet Nikoli on the roof,� Anatoly said to the man on the couch. He then turned his attention to Roderick. “Fine friends you have, keeping tabs on you like that. Almost like they don’t trust you, eh? If they don’t trust you enough to mind your own business without help, do you think they’ll trust you with their share of the money?�

“If I give you this, I’m paid up, right?� Roderick said. Leo could tell from his posture that the drone surveillance had more angered him, and Anatoly’s line of reasoning finally seemed to hit home.

“If want you say is in there is actually in there? Yes. Clean. Welcomed back with open arms,� Anatoly said somberly.

20:09:13 Friday 12 January 2063 - 372 W Lexington Ave, Pomona, CFS

Cosmo smiled to herself as she watched the teenagers pile out of the limousine. She knew how they felt, the giddy excitement of the girls, all grown up and glamorous, and the nervous anticipation of the boys that were wondering how grown up their dates really were. One of the couples held hands on the way inside.

That soft secret smile of hers broadened as the limousine circled around to join a line of fancy cars in the rear parking lot.

Perfect.

She exhaled and started her motorcycle, glad that the driver had opted to stay near the school. Now it was only a matter of leaving the Suzuki on a side street and approaching the parking lot on foot. Cosmo took her time finding a nice concealed spot for the bike, giving the drivers plenty of time to get comfortable in their cars before she slipped around behind the school and crouched near the fence.

01:00:11 Wednesday, 10 January, 2063 - A Warehouse in the Barrens

With one last glance around the corner to verify the position of the hostiles, John looked back to where his niece lay on the catwalk with her arms covering her head. "Ok, here we go. I'm gonna stand and make for the stairs, layin' down cover as we go. You two," and here he nodded to Lady Dove, "wait a sec and follow. Got it?" Without waiting he added, "If any of those fraggers try and stop us, I'll peel off and deal with 'em. You two just run for the stairs." It wasn't much of a plan, but the longer they waited, the worse their situation was likely to get.

He didn't wait to be acknowledged; couldn't spare the time. Steeling himself, he brought the Ingram to his shoulder, pivoted around the corner and stood in one motion. "Now," he said. Squeezing the trigger, he began to move towards the stairs as quickly as he could.

20:31:07 Friday 12 January 2063 - 372 W Lexington Ave, Pomona, CFS

Cosmo slipped through the last line of trees separating the houses from the athletic fields of the high school. She'd ditched the bike on one of the many small streets that wove their way through the development before cutting across several yards, making her way back to the school. Pausing at the edge of the only good cover for seventy five meters, she glanced around. At this hour on a Friday, no one was out and about, not to mention the fact that all eyes should be focused on the events transpiring at the school itself. She set off across the soccer field at a quick trot.

The fenceline surrounding the school yard was, despite its functionality, more decorative than anything else. Not electrified, not equipped with sensors, not topped by razorwire or monowire, it was one of the easiest physical obstacles Cosmo had ever negotiated. Wedging her left foot in between two of the iron uprights, she pulled herself smoothly to the point where she could swing a leg over, before pivoting and dropping to the ground on the other side in one fluid motion.

Now came the hard part. The parking lot itself was under camera surveillance, but the security system was designed to prevent the kind of casual teenage hooliganism that seemed so popular, rather than to deter an actual trained professional such as herself. She kept the bulk of the idling limousines between her and the cameras, moving in a slow crouch along the line of parked vehicles until she found the one she was looking for. Scanning again for anyone watching, she dropped to her back and wormed her way slowly beneath the undercarriage of the vehicle. Reaching into her satchel, she brought out one of the demo charges supplied by the Kalds. The diagram hung in the air in front of her gaze, masked at forty percent so she could follow the instructions precisely. Peeling the protective layer off the kleen-tac backing, she reached far up int o the guts of the vehicle before pressing the charge firmly against the fuel tank of the limo. A simple flick of the switch armed the receiver and she was done.

The door to the limo opened. Cosmo froze. First one foot, then another appeared as the driver stepped out, leaving the vehicle running. A lighter clicked in the night and she heard the long exhalation peculiar to smokers. Voices called from nearby.

"Hey man, what's up? Stuck running the kids around too, eh?"

"Yeah, but there's this sweet little blonde in my group...."

"Give it up, you're old enough to be her father you perv."

"If she's eighteen it doesn't make much difference, does it?"

Cosmo crawled silently from beneath the limo, retracing her steps towards the fenceline.

One down, four to go.

01:51:52 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Events were developing along an unexpected course, and Leo wasn’t yet sure how he was going to try to use the situation to his benefit. The first problem was the question of the drones’ origin. If the Vory was right, and it made sense that he was, then Rod’s “friends� knew the score. Perhaps more importantly it was apparent that Rod had determined the score himself, his eyes telling a clear story of suspected betrayal. The added incentive of paying off old debts was just too much for the down-on-his-luck man to resist, and there was no doubt that his decision had already been made. That placed Leo in a bit of a divided position. His job was to protect the mage, but Isir was paying him, and it was unlikely that Isir would happily accept an interpretation of Leo’s job that involved stealing this cargo container, whatever it might contain.

Still, Leo’s sense of loyalty tugged him toward the mage’s side, impelled further by the fact that Roderick would almost certainly end up fragged if left to go it alone. That situation would be preferable to avoid altogether. Afterwards, Leonid would make sure the grey eyed Vory didn’t live long enough to use the stolen goods. Leo’s lip curled up at the corner, smiling as he stared with empty eyes at his folded hands on the table, considering in intricate detail how he would take the Russian apart piece by piece.

He pulled himself away from the brief trance, only barely registering the unfamiliar nature of his own thoughts in the back of his mind, before returning to the matters at hand.

“Help,� Leo said to the table in front of him, causing the others in the room to glance at him questioningly. He lifted his eyes and tilted his head a bit, but gazed at nothing in particular before continuing, “Roderick will need help if you really want your container, and I’m the only one around to do it,�

When in enemy territory, Leo thought to himself, let the enemy equip you.

“I’m a bodyguard; I didn’t sign on for any operations beyond that, but if you really want what’s in that thing, if you want it done and done right, then you’ll want me to help him, because he sure as frag can’t do it alone." Leo paused, nodding his head softly for storytelling effect, before continuing, "Fortunately I am willing to take on the work. All it will cost you is one Ingram, some ammo, and one of those Secure-Tec jackets,� he nodded to one of the coats worn by the “muscle� before finally making eye contact with the grey-eyed Vory. “Cheapest Russian officer you ever bought,� Leo said.

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

It was like a brief moment of calm before the storm. As Scrapheap leaned against the wall, calmly changing clips, and Max ran towards the stairs, praying desperately he'd manage to avoid getting shot again, the old street samurai took a moment to look around. Various members of the opposition were trying to climb back to the second floor to get back in the fight, and it looked like the shotgunner was reloading himself, with his SMG-toting partner taking a position behind cover near the stairs.

Meanwhile, as the force of Alleycat's command washed over the mercenary, he immediately tossed his SMG over to her. Coming to his senses moments later, he immediately goes for his sidearm and backpedals away from her, towards his friend stuck on the shelving unit below them.

Catching the gun easily, and recognizing the odds could very quickly turn against her, she turns and runs towards the edge of the catwalk, first leaping onto the railing and then flying out into space. She hangs for what seems to be a very long time indeed, then her hand closes over one of the rappelling lines whipping around and she swings, her momentum carrying her back to the middle catwalk. She lets go just as her body is over the catwalk, but she slightly misjudges her landing and starts skidding towards the north edge of the catwalk, and close to possibly careening over the edge. Dropping prone into a slide, her hand grasps at the ground, stopping her slide and bringing her to a halt just outside the smoke cloud, to the north.

From there, she's in perfect position to see Lady Dove banish the Fire Spirit which had come down to engage the Water Spirit in Astral Combat, attacking it ineffectually before departing, freed from its summoners' control. The box was still closing in around them, but they had a breather. For the moment.

19:00:35 Monday January 8, 2063; McHughs Restaurant; Westbrook Lane Seattle UCAS

Erebus tried to evaluate the pair of runners but he lacked enough information to get a real read on them, in the end it'd have to come down to his faith that Elan wouldn't work with less than competent runners. He addressed the mage, guessing that he'd be the more expensive of the two but made sure they understood his question was for both runners.

"Fine, we'll need your services for 24 hours, starting immediately. Combat is definite. What's the cost?"

He knew his funds were sufficient, but he was worried about the dent this was going to make.

19:01:06 Monday, 08 January 2063 - McHugh's #608, 3075 Westbrook Lane, Seattle, UCAS

Shard glanced once at Bridger before replying with a frankness that tells both Erebus and Dragon that they've briefed this kind of operation before.

"Five thousand nuyen each, half up front, plus ammo expended."

01:51:57 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Anatoly smiled, the grinning smile of a large cat that has ensnared prey. Leo knew it, and knew that it was coming from the conversation.

"Mr. Denisov, I must say," Anatoly said in a low voice, leaning in to make sure he wasn't overheard and still with the same lilting Russian accented English ",that you are not what I expected: Roderick is not a man that deems such a bodyguard. The goods you ask, you'll have as soon as you leave, merely as a measure of my respect."

Looking over to the couch, he said to the mage, "Dimitry, go up there, keep that blimp from leaving. Leave something for me as well." Dimitry looked to argue, but sat up heavily from the sofa and, pausing to bow his head and chant a few words, left, slamming the door.


01:52:08 Thursday, 11 January 2063-15015 E Roy St. Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Fly you fraggin’ hot air bag, fly Gar thought, mentally maneuvering the LTA ship down out of sight behind the AC unites of another building as a few other people appeared on the roof of that goddamn turncoat’s building.


01:52:29 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

“That should make sure nothing untoward occurs. Now, Mr. Denisov, what exactly is your plan for taking this shipping container out of the Port and to me? I ask only because I’ve made a good sized team on order for this, as the cargo is valuable and the Port facilities are reasonably secure,� the Vory man said, actually looking interested in the answer, still with a Cheshire-cat psudo-smile on his face.

19:01:00 Monday January 9, 2063- McHughs Restaurant; Westbrook Lane; Seattle UCAS

Erebus thought about it for a couple of seconds, he really didn't have much of a bargaining position.

"Agreed. We'll need to set up, locate the package, recover the package, then fade the heat. It'll all have to happen within the next 24 hours or the recover window closes. When can you have your gear ready?"

The elf looked over at Dragon trying to figure out how much to reveal about the mission to these two. His own involvement smacks of desperation, he had the impression that the other warrior would've handled the matter himself if he could've, and the decker was clearly emotionally involved with the mission. He'd only known Dragon for a day now, he knew next to nothing about the man and trying to figure out what he was thinking or feeling by watching his face was like trying to catch the wind in your hands. He would have to count on Dragon to take the lead in dispensing information.

19:02:28 Monday, 08 January 2063 - McHugh's #608, 3075 Westbrook Lane, Seattle, UCAS

"One hour," replied Bridger before Shard can answer. The elf glances over at his companion but doesn't voice his question. They're both ready to roll, but make no pretense of moving yet. Money still has to be exchanged, as do communications frequencies and network protocols. Not to mention the additional details of the task that had been hinted about beforehand.

19:02:35 Monday January 8, 2063 - McHugh's #608- Seattle UCAS

Moving casually and slowly to make sure there were no mistakes about what he was doing Erebus slid one hand into his jacket to where he'd stashed the certified credsticks representing most of the liquid assets he possessed in the world and pulled out two sticks worth 5K each. He put them on the table between him and the other runners and removed his hand, letting them sit there.

"The cred isn't a problem."

19:03:07 Monday, 08 January 2063 - McHugh's #608, 3075 Westbrook Lane, Seattle, UCAS

Bridger selects one of the credsticks and pockets it, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Half up front, friend. Save the rest for later. Tell the lady there to open up your network and we'll pass our information and comm freqs."

Erebus glances at Sybersnake then at Dragon. Dragon glances at Sybersnake, who shrugs, and gestures with an AR-enhanced hand. The smile on Bridger's face widens to something genuine, and two new nodes pop up on the network. Something passes between the two hackers, and for a moment Dragon sees the tension ease somewhat in Sybersnake's posture.

19:03:46 Monday, 08 January 2063 - McHugh's #608, 3075 Westbrook Lane, Seattle, UCAS

After the transfer of information back and forth has been completed, Dragon says, "We have prepared a complete mission dossier on the target, operational plan, all pertinent reconnaissance to date and individual responsibilities. Please look it over and let us know if you have any questions."

He doesn't look at Sybersnake as he speaks. He doesn't have to. He knows the hacker was already sending the other two runners the information before he even finished talking.

He waits quietly for them to peruse the information and see if they have any questions.

19:08:11 Monday, 08 January 2063 - McHugh's #608, 3075 Westbrook Lane, Seattle, UCAS

"Aztechnology, eh?" Bridger leans back in his chair, eyes staring into the distance while his fingers drummed on the table. He'd finished reading through the material compiled by Sybersnake in only a couple of minutes, while Shard was taking longer. Dragon got the impression that the stocky man was used to digesting a large amount of data via AR or VR input.

"Five against a hangar full of guards plus a mobile security team? Let's hope that we're as good as we think we are." Bridger grins at Shard, who smirks in response, a tension underlying the humor. The two men, though, seem more than ready to execute the tasks assigned to them in the plan.

01:52:16 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

"Why hire another team, when one will already do your work for you?" Leo asked, looking purposefully at Roderick at his side. Play along, he thought at the mage, hoping Rod wouldn't have a sudden case of suicidal loyalty, it doesn't matter what we end up doing, just don't say amything stupid.

Leo turned back to the Vory, "Rod's previous business partners had a plan already, he knows what it is, and they must be in a hurry now. People in a hurry make mistakes. They'll expect you to act quickly, in force; instead a small force will play it slow and use their quickness against them, taking what they have after it is extracted. Minimal risk to everyone involved. I don't forsee any great difficulty; no offense to my client, but his friends only have skills comparable to his own, in their individual fields."

01:53:02 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Rod was on the verge of opening his mouth as Leo pitched the plan, but the steel-eyed Russian’s glance snapped his lips sealed. Rod knew that this was probably his best chance to get out from under, and going back to Isir, Gar and Tory after this wasn’t an option now, not after they’d been listening in on most of the conversation.

Anatoly paused for a moment to consider, but not too long; Leo knew the kinds of buttons to press on these people, and how to press those buttons for advantage in this situtation. “You make an interesting proposal, Mr. Denisov, though I would underestimate Roderick’s team at your own risk.

Which it will be, your risk� the Vor said, smile more genuine than before. “So, you retrieve this container for me, and Roderick’s slate is clean, and you get…a percentage of the value of what is in that container. Agreed? And would there be anything else you would need for this plan?� Anatoly asked.

01:53:30 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

"A decent commlink, if you have one - or at least one that works," Leo answered, used another sideways look to ask Rod if there was anything else he thought they might require. "I'll contact you as soon as we've secured the crate, or an intermediary if you prefer, just provide the information, though I'm sure you'll manage to be kept well informed of the situation as it develops."

Leo pushed his chair out, and stood in one slow motion. "Any other stipulations are yours to make, but that should prove enough on our end."

He waited, fingertips lighly pressed against the table as he waited for Rod to stand and the Vory to answer.

01:54:10 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Anatoly bared his teeth again in the imitation-smile just before the heavies burst back into the room, huffing with exertion after running back down the stairs from the roof. Leo could tell by the almost child-like expressions of accomplishment on their faces that they’d been at least somewhat successful.

01:53:30 Thursday, 11 January 2063-15015 E Roy St. Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Tory almost banged his head against the short roof the van, getting to his feet as soon as he heard Gar slump against the window. She quickly started a full on wail as soon as the ork could reach her.

�They got Billy� was all that Tory could make out for a minute in between the sobs and tears. Grabbing her body out of the seat and trying to console her as much as possible while wrangling her back to the cargo area, he lightly nodded his head to the front. Isir moved to the driver’s seat of the van, pulling it out into traffic as Tory gently rocked Gar as she sobbed into his shoulder “,bastards killed Billy, fraggers are going to pay for killing Billy�, over and over again.

01:54:15 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

�Got it loaded into the car, boss, made sure it was powered off. Maybe Danik can make use of it� Misha said in Russian. Leo, used to the culture and the language, could almost see the pride beaming off of him.

“Spaisba. Toss me your spare ‘link,� Anatoly said. The pride that had be eminating from him vanished as he patted the cheap suit’s pockets for something other than a gun or the commlink he had been issued.

“Ok, any of you with a spare, give it to me.� Dimitry pulled out a slim, ebony phone from a hip pocket and tossed it to the Vor. Anatoly powered it on and looked at it for a moment, passed an approving glance to the mage, and tossed it onto Leo.

“As you can see, it’s a bit hard to outfit our people with a spare commlink, though your errand may prove to make that easier in the future. That phone has my personal number in it; feel free to call as you must. As someone of your…stature knows, however, I only expect contact if you have my container for me or if you are in exceptional need of assistance,� Anatoly said in the lightly Russian accented English he’d used for most of the conversation with Leo.

“If there’s nothing further…� he said, walking toward the door with his entourage it tow.

01:59:23 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Leo and Rod made their way to the black sports car outside, opened the doors, and threw themselves inside. Rod got the engine going, revving the gas engine a few pulses while Leo took the chance to initiate conversation while the mage's mind was still sifting through the encounter. There wasn't time for panicked or angry time-wasting. Situating himself, he slipped the jacket he had been given on, and holstered the Ingram in one of the pockets of the long jacket.

"I need to know everything that you know about the run your team was about to do," Leo told his companion as he pulled the new commlink from his pocket. He flicked the power on and began sifting through whatever data he could find on it, mindful of any harmful programs that might turn up. "Who would be the members of the team, their skills, what the transport plans would be, who they are working for, and what is in that container." Leo continued to keep his attention on the comm screen, until, temporarily satisfied, he powered it down, popped the casing and scanned the insides for any conspicuous internal electronics.

"The more information you can recall, the better the chance that we can make this work out best for us, and as poorly as possible for our other friends back there."

As the car began to roll and Rod collected himself, Leonid popped the commlink back together and powered it on once again. He would have to take time to sift through any potential data later, slipping it into another pocket and exchanging it for the weapon on the opposite side to give it a similar once over.

02:02:04 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS
“I still can’t believe we’re doing this…� Roderick said under his breath over and over again, shaking his sweat beaded head while navigating the car down the narrow side streets of Capitol Hill: the houses, half the courtyards/parking lots of purpose built Neo-Modern apartment homes and the other half the backsides of fin de siècle high end houses with epoxyed staircases in various degrees of repair marking them as converts after the war made Seattle what it stood as today flying in a multi colored blur past them.

Leo caught himself a few times pressing into the floorboard for the brake pedal of the Z-M as Roderick fishtailed around slushy wet corners and slid to stops at cross streets tossing roostertails and forward slush onto the sidewalks; the drone streetplows having thrown the snow and the occasional misparked Jackrabbit or Comet toward the parking zones on the side of the street before the IceMelter trucks passed though. A dizzying wheel yank brought them out of the warren of backalleys and cross street stopsigns onto Broadway, just before Denny. Roderick gunned it just as Leo made sure his seat belt was tight, shooting across the intersection right in front of a metro transit bus, skidding into a McHugh’s.

02:10:07 Thursday, 11 January 2063-Corner of E. Denny and Broadway, Downtown, Seattle, UCAS
Roderick leaned into his seat, head back against the headrest and thumbs massaging his eyes. “We were getting a container; they didn’t trust me with the whole plan but I saw enough to get the idea. Security’s reasonably tight at the port, but Gar found a backdoor into the system; she’s supposed to do overwatch with that blimp Anatoly’s guys shot down and keep the automated patrols redirected,� he said softly, still slumped tiredly back into the seat.

“She figured that we had about a ten minute window to get it. Tory and Isir mapped out the hauler routes, and I was supposed to get the container on the trailer and do astral overwatch. I think Isir had rounded up a truck from somewhere to get it off the yard; I don’t know who Isir was selling to, but we were supposed to get about ¥25 grand apiece from it by the next day. I don’t even know what’s in it except that it’s not organic and it’s worth some good nuyen,� Roderick said as tiredly as he looked.

02:10:07 Thursday, 11 January 2063-Corner of E. Denny and Broadway, Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

"We might have to do some waiting, watch the container until they make their move - unless you know of a time limit they were operating under, that could narrow our window a bit." Leo nodded his head, thinking, not really focusing his eyes on anything in particular as he considered what information was available. "My goal is to keep you alive, it's what I was paid to do, but I need to know what you are bringing to the table. You were in charge of moving the container? I gather you have telekinetic spell that was to help you in this, or something else?"

The restaurant's central heat kicked in, covering up the two men's conversation as it wooshed to full power. At the front of the store, an older ork wiped down the counter, poorly disguising an obvious interest in the ongoing discussion, or anything other than his job at hand for that matter. Leo tried to give the worker a "mind-your-own-business" look of annoyance that wound up much more deadpan than intended, but the unexpected attention had the desired effect and the ork suddenly found a stubborn spot to occupy his full attention.

"If they don't have time to bring another mage in, we have a strong advantage," Leo continued, resuming his head nod, keeping to the subconscious beat of blood in his veins, "helping to exploit that aspect will be your job. I'll be able to get the truck if you can offer a few tricks. I still think they'll be on an accelerated timeline now that they are found out; the sooner we can start watching the docks the better," Leo finished, jabbing his finger in the direction of the Z-M parked off-kilter across two spots just outside the large glass windows.

"If you have any problems with this, speak your mind now. I don't plan on hurting your, hmm, "friends", but you need to be fully invested in what we're about to do."

20:21:04 Monday January 08, 2063; Low Rent Apartment #313

Erebus looked around the dingy two bedroom apartment and shrugged, he'd seen worse. At least the place had a quick access point to the roof half a floor up and a window overlooking the river to the south. The cost to rent it for the next two days had been minimal and they hadn't asked any questions, just looked funny and Sybersnake and Dragon and he when they walked in. He figured extra heavy 'damage deposit' was as good as gone.

"Well," the Elf warrior said over his shoulder to Dragon, "this ought to do as a staging station. Let's get things set up."