20:21:36 Monday January 08, 2063; Low Rent Apartment #313

Dragon nods. "Thanks for spotting the cash for this place. Let's get to work."

Without another word he drops his duffel on the ground of the living room and begins unloading the weapons contained within, figuring out how to optimize his weaponry for the task at hand.

1450 Monday, 08 January, 2112 Acacia Ave. Renton – Home of Donum Moriarty

Donum rolled over in his bed, slowly pulling a pillow over his head tightly, trying to ignore the incessant voice.

“Now, now, sleepy head, it’s time to wakey wakey,� it said, in a familiarly obnoxious, british-accented voice.

Donum groaned again. Maybe if he groaned and ignored it long enough, the voice would just go away.

“No, I won’t go away,� the voice responded. “And the pillow won’t save you, I promise.� He was right – Donum could still hear the voice as clear as a bell.

“That’s because you’re in my head, Bob,� Donum sighed, rolling on his back and tossing the pillow aside in defeat.

“Oh, there is that minor detail, yes.�

Donum sighed and turned his head to stare at the large brown dog sitting next to his bed, looking right at him. The dog panted patiently, without moving his gaze. The dog closely resembled a boxer, with the body of a small dane, and the face of a bulldog.

“How long was I out?� Donum asked as he slowly, groggily sat-up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“Over 35 hours, I do believe,� Bob replied, concern in his voice. “Donum, you know that you shouldn’t be taking that drug.�

“I know, I know… who are you, my mom?� Donum replied, irritation in his voice.

“No. I am just your meager, unappreciated Mentor Spirit, here to assist and look out for you. Nevermind me,� he replied indignantly.

Donum ignored the lecture, instead quite satisfied with the effects of the drug that he took. It had helped him stay awake for more than half the week straight, and the only price he had to pay was a long nap at the end. Oh, and a few credits, of course – credits that he was quickly running out of. But it was worth it – he didn’t have any dreams, and that was always a good thing.

“Anyone come to my door while I was out?� Donum asked, yawning.

“Oh, just that really cute lady from upstairs,� Bob replied.

“She’s my landlord. And she’s 53. And she’s well over 150 kilos. And that mole on her cheek…� Donum shuddered. “It looks big and scary enough. I bet she hides small children in there.�

Donum rose and stretched, much to the displeasure of his arms and legs, which hadn’t seen much use over the better part of the past day and a half. He groaned as he felt the bladder pains, and hobbled his way quickly across the cold cement floor into the bathroom.

“She knocked pretty hard, and when no one came, she left a note on the door. She didn’t seem very happy,� Bob called out loud enough so Donum could hear him, even though he didn’t need to.

Donum took care of his body’s immediate biological requirements, washed his hands and face, and returned to his bedroom. His basement apartment was nothing special – kitchen/living room combo, with a private bedroom and bathroom. The plumbing worked (most of the time), the electricity worked (some of the time), and it could be a very cozy place – if you like refrigeration cold, that is.

Donum put on a fresh t-shirt and jeans, and went to the door. Opening it, he retrieved the note stuck to the outside pane.

“Rent is DUE NOW!!!!!� it said in big letters.

“Let me guess,� Bob said, “The rent is due.�

“Funny how that works,� Donum replied as he tossed the note on his kitchen table, “If I need something in the apartment fixed, Ms. Lindquist can’t seem to find the time to remember that it NEEDS fixed. But the moment the first of the month rolls around – suddenly, she’s a chronological timepiece in human form.�

Bob chuckled, “But she’s a beautiful chronological timepiece. And the rent is seven days past due.�

Donum made a face. “You’re gonna make me sick, Bob, and I haven’t even eaten yet.�

At the thought of food, his stomach grumbled as if on cue. He meandered over to the kitchen, reaching for the fridge.

He pulled the handle and was immediately assaulted by the foul odor of spoiled milk.

“SEE? See what I am saying? I told her about this three WEEKS ago, and it went out AGAIN! My soy-milk – wasted!� he said, his voice full of frustration as he held up a half-full jug of milk, shaking it.

“Now, now, Donum… no use crying over… spoiled milk?� Bob chided.

Donum groaned.

He instead grabbed a bottle of water and the three-day-old remnants of some carry-out foreign food (that he couldn’t remember buying – or eating), and headed to his desk. His desk was where he conducted his ‘business’.

“Let’s see if we have any clients today,� Donum said after a few bites of food.

He activated his comm-link and, after hitting the on/off button a half-dozen times and shaking the device violently, the device finally sprang to life.

He read through a few messages, a couple from his buddy Stephen Wyche, a Lonestar employee. An invite to dinner next weekend. How nice. His wife sure does make a mean soy-roast.

“Mmmmm, free foood!� Bob chimed in.

Donum ignored the comment and continued rummaging through his mail. Advertisement – ‘Enlarge your sexual prowess NOW!’, Advertisement - ‘Your FRIEND from Nigeria wants to share one billion credits with you NOW!�, Advertisement - “Get Rich and work from home NOW! 4 hours per week!�, and many more like it crossed the view-screen.

“I already work from home,� he muttered to no one in particular as he hit the ‘delete’ key over and over again.

“No clients?� Bob asked.

Donum sighed, any verbal response unnecessary by that point.

“No worries, my friend. Work will come, I am sure of it,� Bob replied, his voice serious and comforting.

“For now, let’s have a little chat about street magic, shall we?� Bob suggested, excitement in his voice.

Donum took in a deep breath. “Wow Bob, less than ten minutes awake, and you’re already wanting me back in class – but I guess it’s better than sitting around here sleeping�.

“Right, then,� Bob began, “one thing that a mage must always be prepared for…..�




1525 Monday, 08 January, 2112 Acacia Ave. Renton – Home of Donum Moriarty

“Donum… are you even listening to me?�

Donum’s head suddenly snapped up, his eyes immediately opened, wide-eyed like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Yes, of course, you were saying about astral perception…�

“Really, Donum, sometimes you’re intolerable,� Bob scolded.

“Sorry, sorry… I’m just really dragging this morning. I think maybe I’ll go for a walk. The fresh, cold Seattle air will help me wake up a bit.�

“That’s probably a good idea,� Bob replied.

Donum literally jumped to his feet, like a child in class would do the minute the closing bell rings. He donned his duster, slipped his sock-covered feet into his boots, and placed his akubra on his head.

He gave one last look at his comm-link – “No New Messages� – and sniffed. Business had been rather slow lately.

He paused as he considered leaving his staff behind. He looked for many long moments at the polished wood, and changed his mind. In these times, you never knew when you’d need protection.

He left out the front door, being careful to be as quiet as he could – no need to attract the attentions of Ms. Lindquist. She lived in the apartment above him, which Donum often regretted. He could hear her every time her massive girth moved across her floor (his ceiling), and sometimes it gave him the impression of what an earthquake must sound like.

He was successfully able to sneak away from his doorway without being ‘caught’, and started walking down the street, taking deep breaths in the cold, January afternoon air. At least the air had a neutral aroma today, which was a nice change of pace. It usually altered between raw sewage, burnt hair, rotten food – or a mix of the three.

Bits of debris gently rolled down the street on the soft, cool breeze that blew the lower part of his duster around his legs. Obviously, the breeze was why it didn’t smell so bad this day. Small miracles. Donum took in another deep breath – it felt like it could storm later this afternoon or evening.

The street he lived on – the entire part of Renton he lived in – was what most would call “lower level living�. Graffiti covered the dilapidated wooden fences and stone walls of many businesses and boarded-up shops. A few old billboards – advertising products from many years ago, now unrecognizable – also bore the brunt of the graffiti artist’s trade.

Turning a corner onto Ward Ave, Donum almost tripped over one such artist, a young elf boy, spray-can in hand.

The boy was startled as he looked up to see Donum’s six plus foot frame looming over him.

“Is that a goat, Eli?� Donum asked, looking at what the boy was painting on the fence, around knee-level.

The boy regained his balance and looked at his work, then back up at Donum, then back at his work.

“It’s a wolf,� he said, emphasizing ‘wolf’, as if Donum should easily be able to tell what it was supposed to be.

“Ah, I see now. Good job. But you might want to be careful – Lonestar sees you doing that, you know what will happen,� he said, as he continued on past the elf child.

“Yea, nothin’!� the boy shot back with a smile, as he went back to his work.

“If that was a wolf, then you’re a troll,� Bob’s voice echoed in his head, disgusted.

Donum just smiled and kept walking.

A short time later, he arrived at the nearby Stuffer Shack. He could smell the sweet aroma of some meat product being cooked, coming from inside.

He walked in, nodding to the large tough-looking man standing next to the counter – ‘store security’. “Hey there, Louie�. Louie did not answer.

Donum went to the store’s meager chilled-foods section. He was in luck – there was one two-liter carton of soy-milk left. He grabbed it as quickly as he could, lest someone else beat him to it, and headed to the front counter.

There he met Lilly, the girl in her late teens who had been working there for almost a year, now. She was covered in tattoos, her ears and nose pierced with flashy jewelry. She bore a bandage on her left shoulder, no doubt protecting a patch of skin where new ink had been recently applied or touched-up.

“Hey there, Mr. Moriarty,� she said with a smile as she looked up at his approach. She was chewing gum and listening to a small portable wave-player, which was spitting out some sort of goth-rock from its tiny speaker.

“Hiya Lilly, you’re looking as lovely as ever on this fine day,� Donum replied, setting the soy-milk on the counter.

“Thanks,� she said with a genuine smile, a hint of a blush rising on her cheeks. “Will this be it for you today?�

Donum nodded with a smile, and pulled out one of his cred-sticks from his pocket.

She rang up his item and ran the cred-stick, then winced. “This one is empty,� she said.

Embarrassed, Donum reached in his pocket and pulled out another. Louie glanced back, at the counter, making sure there wasn’t any problem.

“Ah, that’s the one I forgot to fill-up. I like to carry some blanks, in case I ever get mugged – sometimes the mugger will grab an empty stick. Imagine their surprise later,� he responded. A lame excuse, but it would have to do.

Lilly chuckled and shook her head. As she finished the sale and handed him his cred-stick and soy-milk, her eyes locked on the polished staff in his left hand.

“You know Mr. Moriarty, we’re having a party tonight, me and some friends. It’d be totally killer if you were to show up – maybe do some of that magic stuff for us? That’d be too cool!�

Donum smiled. “Is that the offer of a date I hear?�

Again – the blush and a smile. “Only if you want it to be,� she replied.

Donum laughed, “If I was ten years younger and you were blind in one eye, I’d take you up on that. But sorry, I’ve got a lot on my plate this evening.�

“Liar,� Bob’s voice echoed in his head.

“Well, it was just an idea,� she smiled and nodded, accepting his answer. “Have a good one.�

“You too, Lilly – be safe, and take care,� Donum replied as he headed out of the store, and back up Ward, towards Acacia, the street he lived on.

“How sweet. I think the girl actually has a crush on you, Donum,� the British accent said.

“Yeah, I’m almost old enough to be her father. That’s my idea of a great time – hang out with the teens and do magic tricks for them. Yeah, wonderful,� Donum replied sarcastically. “Sounds like something a perv would do.�

Bob was silent for a bit as Donum continued up to the corner where Eli had been painting his masterpiece of the goat-wolf animal hybrid. As Donum wheeled around the corner, he was confronted with a different sight.

Three older boys had Eli pressed-up against the other side of the fence, frisking him and demanding money from him. Eli was obviously scared and helpless, outnumbered as he was.

Donum stopped, and it didn’t take long for one of the ruffians to notice him. The ganger reached out and tapped the shoulder of one of the others, and eventually, all four boys were starring at Donum.

Donum presented an imposing site – black duster, black hat that looked like something an undertaker would wear, his polished staff in one hand – and a two liter of soy-milk in the other.

“Move along, freak! This is our business,� the largest of the ruffians ordered. He was an orc youth, but easily already the size of a well built human male. Donum didn’t like orcs none too much. The other two gangers were humans, and Donum figured they couldn’t be older than sixteen.

Donum silently cursed himself for leaving his Colt at home. But he had his staff, and he wasn’t afraid to use it.

“Well, you see, there’s a problem,� Donum spoke slowly. “Eli here is my employee. I am paying him to paint some wolves in certain spots along this street. You guys are keeping him from doing his work… which makes me very, very unhappy.�

The three ruffians paused and looked at each other briefly. Before any of them could respond, Donum continued.

“So, I have just one question,� he said as he slowly set the soy-milk on the ground next to his boot. “Who fries first?�

After a few moments of thought, the bigger ruffian roughly let go of Eli’s collar. Evidently he had decided that the confrontation wasn’t worth it.

“We’re outta here. This punk is broke, anyway,� the orc spat, as he and his two companions departed.

Donum had somewhat of a reputation in his immediate neighborhood. Gangs were present everywhere. The major gangs in the area just ignored the mage – but the smaller gangs tried their best to avoid him out of a mix of fear and respect. Smart gangers thought it best to not make enemies of a mage if they could help it. Thankfully, Donum rarely had to put on a display or have direct conflict with them. He went about his business, and if he and the gangs didn’t get in each other’s way – both sides benefited. He was content with that.

“Thanks,� Eli said. His cheeks were red, and Donum was sure the boy was holding back tears.

“Eli…� Donum began, intending to console the boy. But the elf simply turned his head and walked past him, and continued down the street, not looking back.

Donum looked down at Bob, sitting beside him, panting. “Kids! No gratitude! I tell you what…�

Donum retrieved his soy-milk and continued home.



1551 Monday, 08 January, 2112 Acacia Ave. Renton – Home of Donum Moriarty


Distracted by the incident with Eli and the young gangers, he wasn’t paying attention as he started down the steps leading to his front door.

“MR. MORIARTY,� a woman’s voice cackled at him. Donum closed his eyes – he had forgotten to invoke his invisibility spell.

The large lady nearly bound down the steps to catch up with him.

“Your rent is seven days overdue! That’s already one quarter of the month! It is the 8th of January, and rent is due on the 1st – even if the 1st is a holiday!�

Donum sighed, “Yes Ms. Lindquist, I am supposed to receive a payment sometime today…�

“Don’t give me that! You said the same thing last Friday. I have bills of my own to pay too, I’ll have you know!�

Donum turned to face her. He tried his best not to look at the mole on her face. “Ms. Lindquist… I promise I’ll have the rent to you in the next few days. I just need a day or two in order to…�

“That’s not good enough!� she snapped. “If you can’t pay it by tomorrow, I’ll have to add a late fee!�

Donum contained his own frustration. “Ms. Lindquist, if I were to pay you the rent by tomorrow, do you think you could have the fridge fixed, so I don’t have to keep buying fresh milk?� Donum asked, holding up the two-liter for emphasis.

Her eyes grew big, then. “I just had someone look at that cooling unit just last month, and you’ve already broken it, AGAIN??!� she nearly shrieked.

“No, I didn’t do anything to it – unless you consider opening the door something more than it is.�

She sputtered, as if not knowing what to say next. Instead, she merely spun on her heel and retreated upstairs, muttering all the way.

Donum shook his head and unlocked his door, went inside and closed it behind him with a sigh.

He went to his comm-link – “No New Messages� – and sighed again.

He stashed the milk in the luke-warm fridge, and went and sat at his desk.

What a day it had already been.

15:53:03 Monday, 08 January 2063 - 2112 Acacia Ave, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

No sooner had Donum crossed from his refrigerator to his desk when his phone buzzed. The sudden noise startled him, and he scooped the unit off the desk.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Don, it's Steve. You busy?" The caller ID read out as Lone Star, which meant he was at work. Which meant he might be calling about work. Donum felt his hopes begin to rise. Still, he kept his voice casual.

"Not too much that I can't break away if you need me to, what's going on?"

"Something odd came across my desk, it's a missing persons report but I know that it's going to go on the bottom of the stack. I think it might be something that you could look into, the family's offering a reward. I'm headed over to the Day/Night Cafe to grab a bite to eat. Meet me there and I'll pass along the file and everything I know."

Despite himself, Donum felt a smile growing on his face.

"I'll see you there in half an hour."

15:53:20 Monday, 08 January 2063 - 2112 Acacia Ave, Renton, Seattle, UCAS


Donum hung-up the phone with a smile.

"Leave it to Stephen to come through in the clutch," he said.

Bob was more cautious. "Donum, don't get your hopes up. He's a good man, but remember the times he's given you cases that simply gave you no where to start? You can't find every single missing person in this world, nevertheless this country or this city, you know."

Donum packed some of his 'work' items on his person, just to be prepared. What if he needed to get to work the minute his meeting with Stephen was done? He packed the colt in the speed-holster under his left arm, the back-up colt in the inside of his left boot leg. His shielding bracelet on his left wrist, and of course his staff. He pocketed the comm-link and a few other assorted items.

"Bob, why are you always so pessimistic? Besides, someone has to look for these lost people. I mean, look at history - missing persons cases have increased steadily over the years, and successful returns of those missing persons have declined. Should we just forget about them? Those cases are usually low-income cases, which is why Lonestar probably puts them at the bottom, as a 'cost-efficiency' move."

Bob sighed. "I just hate to see you torn-up in the instances where you..."

"Fail?" Donum finished for him, not looking in his mentor spirit's direction as he hurriedly continued his preparations. "There's always that chance. But then there's always that chance that I can make a difference... remember Claudia, and the others?"

Bob's canine head bobbed up and down several times, "Of course I do, Donum. And of course I recognize what you're doing is right, and I have the upmost faith in you. I just do not like seeing you beat yourself up - usually," he said in a sly tone of voice.

"Ha ha, the doggie made a funny," Donum replied with a smirk. "Besides, it'll be good to chat with Steve for a bit. But now, for a little something more monumental, and a far greater challenge," Donum held up a small key-ring, jangling it as if it were covered in spiders, and sighed heavily.

"Will she start?"


15:56:49 Monday, 08 January 2063 - 2112 Acacia Ave, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

Donum walked around behind the back of the small apartment building where he lived. He owned his own transportation (if you could call it that), a beat-up and very old utility vehicle he had gotten for a pittance from a UCAS Surplus store. Of course, there was a reason it was cheap.

He parked the vehicle out back for a reason - if he parked it out front, in a matter of hours parts of the car would disappear - if not the entire vehicle completely. Most people didn't visit this part of town without having some sort of special protection for their vehicles, as vehicles had a bad-habit of being parted out by gangers, or disappearing altogether.

But even out back of the apartment, inside a rusted and ragged chainlink fence that afforded little protection from trespassers, Donum was careful to cover his vehicle with debris and refuse, to hide it from prying eyes. So far, it had worked. Perhaps roving thieves didn't see the vehicle at all - or perhaps they just didn't think it'd be worth their time to steal.

"Ok, baby.... work with me here," Donum spoke to the vehicle in soothing tones as he finished removing his make-shift camouflage from its various surfaces. The windshield still had a crack that ran from top to bottom in an almost perfectly straight line. The original color of the vehicle was a mix of green, browns, and blacks, but most of the cammo paint had faded or chipped off over time, revealing the dull-gray metal beneath.

Donum slithered into the vehicle - gently - and put the key into the ignition. A fine misty cloud appeared with each exhaled breath, and the inside of the windshield quickly fogged-up.

"Abracadadabra," he whispered, as he turned the key.

At first, there wasn't any immediate reaction. A second or two later, there was a grinding sound as the engine attempted - with evident pain and agony - to come to life.

"Come on baby, come on..." Donum whispered as the engine started to turn, then slowed, then started to turn again.

"Would it help if I got out and pushed?" Bob asked from the back seat.

"Shhhh, she doesn't like that kind of attitude, Bob!" Donum scolded as he continued to press the key forward.

Bob let out a sigh, as Donum continued to coax the vehicle into action.

"Come on sweetie, pappa loves you," he whispered.

Suddenly, there was a great bang like a gun-shot, and the engine roared to life.

Donum, relieved, turned to look at Bob. "See? You still catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, my friend!"

Donum put the vehicle in gear, and it surged forward, plowing right through a sizeable snowdrift that had formed in front of it over the past week. Thankfully, the vehicle had snow-tires on it (year round), so the going wasn't quite as bad as Donum had expected it to be.

Donum used his hand to clear away the condensation on the inside of the windshield - the heater worked, it just took a good while to get warmed up.



16:14:07 Monday, 08 January 2063 - 2112 Acacia Ave, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

Without incident, he was able to make it to the Day/Night Cafe that Steve had indicated in decent time. They'd met there plenty of times before, and though the food wasn't all that great in Donum's opinion, the service and atmosphere was.

He was in luck, too - there was an open spot to park just across the street from the cafe, and even though this was a bit nicer part of town than where he lived, he still liked to keep an eye on his vehicle from the restaraunt's windows, if possible.

Donum looked at his comm-link. "16:14, made it with time to spare!"

He parked, turned the car off with a ten-second sputter, and secured the vehicle as best he could. Looking both ways down the slush-riddled street, he crossed the street and made his way to the door of the cafe, and looked for Steve from the entryway, as well as any empty tables in case he wasn't here yet. He didn't expect Steve to be here already, but there was always that chance.

16:19:31 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Day/Night Cafe, 8008 Radio Place, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

The Day/Night Cafe has the reputation of being the greasiest spoon in the city of Renton. And it did its best to live up to that reputation, serving meals swimming in grease at all hours of the day or night. Hence the name. The cops liked it because it was open twenty four hours and had cheap food. The drunks liked it because it was open twenty four hours and had cheap food. The squatters liked it because it was open twenty four hours and had cheap food. The runners were the only ones who didn't like it, mostly due to the large number of cops that transited through the cafe's tiny dining room.

When Donum showed up that afternoon, the clientele was pretty much the same as it always was; blue collar workers mixing with transients and law enforcement personnel just coming off shift. He didn't see Steve among any of the cops present, though, so he made his way down the narrow aisle to an empty seat at the counter. He didn't have to wait long, though, only about five minutes, before the stocky lieutenant dropped onto the stool next to him.

"Whew, what a day," Steve sighed. He ran a calloused hand through his thinning hair, the gesture masking the slight move necessary to drop an OMC into the pocket of Donum's long coat.

"The chip's got the entire file, at least what we got from the next of kin. It's a college kid, David O'Brien, missing for two days. Good grades, on a scholarship, no financial issues that we know of, no real trouble just a couple of run in's with campus security for the usual drunken shennanigans. Sister was the one who reported him missing, she's his next closest relative. Mom and dad were killed during the Somerfield Riots of the Crash. They're talking reward but no solid figures yet, I'm guessing she'll be able to float about 10k for proof of life. Or death, depending. But this kind of case is far down on our priority list, I'm guessing you'll be able to get her the answers she needs in a tenth of the time it would take for our boys to run him down. You interested?"

16:19:47 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Day/Night Cafe, 8008 Radio Place, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

Donum listened intently to Steve's quick overview of the case at hand. His ears perked up when Steve mentioned the possible reward.

"Don't appear too eager, Donum," Bob's voice echoed in his head. "Desperation doesn't become you."

Donum turned to look down the aisle. Bob sat on the floor next to him, but thankfully no one else could see the canine. That was one of the cool things about Mentor Spirits - they could be seen and heard by anyone they wanted. Likewise, they could remain invisible and soundless to those they didn't want to expose themselves to, as well. Bob was usually one of those quiet, inconspicuous ones.

After hearing Steve out, Donum paused for a few long moments, scratching the two days of stubble on his chin as if pondering the details.

"Yeah, Steve, I'm interested. I assume the contact info for the sister is on the chip? That's who I'd likely start my investigation with, unless something on the chip dictates otherwise."

16:20:29 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Day/Night Cafe, 8008 Radio Place, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

Steve delayed his answer in order to swallow half the cup of coffee the waitress left before him.

"Yeah, her info is in there, address and phone, but I'd hold off on contacting her just yet. Might not be a good idea to let on too quickly that we'd outsourced the case. Why don't you poke around a little on campus and then call her in two or three days? That way it still looks like we're at least trying to do our job."

Steve grinned, a tired expression who's attempt at humor fell utterly flat because of the truth that underlay the statement.

16:20:37 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Day/Night Cafe, 8008 Radio Place, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

Donum issued a wry grin.

"You look as tired as I feel, my friend. And excellent advice - I'll give the data a look and plan a little trip from that." Donum sat and enjoyed the company of his friend until it was time for Steve to go about the rest of his day - working or heading home.

Donum patted Steve gently on the shoulder as he stood to depart. "Get some rest, Steve. I'll let you know if I turn up anything. And be careful out there. Say hello to the wife and kids for me."

Parting ways with his long-time friend, Donum headed out the door, looked both ways down the street before crossing, then approached his vehicle.

~Ten thousand nuyen! That would be excellent!~ he thought to himself as he pried the driver's side door open and slid onto the cracked, frigid vinyl seat.

"The man did say it was a guess," Bob interjected.

"Oh, be quiet, mr. wet-blanket," Donum replied as he glanced around to see if anyone was in the immediate area observing him, then carefully slid the OMC out of his pocket and inserted it into his comm-link. After several tries and a few mumbled curses, the device finally powered up and came to life. He made a quick check for any messages that might have been waiting, and then examined the data Steve had given to him.

16:31:04 Monday, 08 January 2063 - outside the Day/Night Cafe, 8008 Radio Place, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

David O'Brien turns out to be a junior at the University of Washington, majoring in chemical engineering. According to his sister, his grades are above average, but nothing stellar. He lives in a small loft apartment in an on campus housing building, alone, but he has a steady girlfriend. He plays on the frisbee golf team, as well as the occasional game of pick-up basketball, but nothing intramural or varsity. He's not a frat brother either, but according to the sister he has Greek friends and gets along well. No car, but a bicycle and a first class tube pass get him around easily. The address of his apartment, as well as his phone number and class schedule are included, as is his sister's phone number.

mistake, please delete

16:31:05 Monday, 08 January 2063 - outside the Day/Night Cafe, 8008 Radio Place, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

Donum absorbed the info - reading it all twice, thoroughly, and pondered his next course of action. He knew he should wait until the next day, then head to the school and start digging around - as best he could, given that he wasn't a student.

He knew where the University was situated. Even though he wasn't a student, he knew that there were visitor parking lots he could use. Parking probably wasn't a problem - getting into David O'brien's apartment would be.

"No better time than the present", he muttered, as he fired up the beast on the third try, and with a stop-and-start jerking motion, pulled carefully out into traffic, destined for the University, his mind racing.

17:12:54 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Borley Hall, 401 University Avenue, University of Washington: Seattle campus, Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

It had been no problem finding David's apartment building, the University was laid out with some measure of user friendliness. It was, however, also security conscious, and Donum knew that he would require an ID or an escort into the building. The campus itself felt alive in a way that the rest of the city did not, vibrant and young, a haven of intellectual thought and experiment in the heart of the concrete jungle. Everywhere he looked the buildings were clean and well kept, windows shining in the late evening sunlight. The lawns bordering the paths were green, the grass freshly mown, small oasis for the students shuttling to and from class. For a moment, but just for a moment, Donum felt a stab of jealousy for the life he'd been denied.

17:33:05 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Borley Hall, 401 University Avenue , University of Washington : Seattle campus, Downtown, Seattle , UCAS

Donum casually walked the circuit a second time. He had already been this way once, but he felt that it never hurt to have a second view of the place a person was going to try to sneak into. He couldn't help but feel a pang of envy - he had never gotten to attend college, and experience all the things you hear about there - girls, cramming for tests, frat parties... oh, and girls. Fate had dealt him a different hand, and even though he often wished things could have been different - he didn't have any complaints. Well, at least not many.

The cool January air made his senses tingle, and the shadows were growing longer by the minute - something he thought might help him in his endeavor.

Bob, his ever watchful companion, walked along beside him, his canine head bobbing left and right as the pair circled around the apartment complex.

"This place has secruity, I grant you that. But nothing extraordinary," he quipped, trying to sound unimpressed.

"It's a school - not a bank," Donum responded, not taking his eyes from his surroundings to look at his mentor. He side-stepped off the sidewalk to allow a pair of young female students to pass by. He nodded and smiled at them, and they turned to look at him with giggles, hands covering their mouths as they continued on their way.

"They like me," Donum smiled as he continued on his way.

"No, they were laughing at you - there's a difference. Most likely because of that silly outfit you wear," Bob corrected.

Donum glanced down at his duster and then back up again. "It's comfy. It's warm. And better yet, it's protective," he said, still smiling, patting the chest of his jacket with one hand. "It's me."

Bob snorted. "It's definitely 'you', alright. You look like you just walked off the set of 'Silverado' - the original one, that is."

"Shhh, Bob, I think I've found the spot... yes, over there," he said, nodding his head toward a partially enclosed waste disposal/dumpster alcove. As he neared the spot, he took another quick glance around, and not seeing anyone looking directly at him, he took a few quick steps into the enclosed area, crouching his tall frame down behind the largest metal container, almost large enough to hide a car behind. He took a quick glance out of the alcove, and didn't see anyone staring at him.

"Ewwww," Bob groaned. "This smells eerily familiar... a lot like your place?"

Donum gave his mentor a derisive look as he closed his eyes and focused his will.

"Abeo," he whispered.

"Invisibility, Donum? Ah, I think I see, if you'll forgive the pun... you plan to approach the entryway invisibly, and as someone leaves, slip inside before the door closes. I am quite proud that you thought that up, all by yourself - and somewhat astounded at the same time."

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17:39:26 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Borley Hall, 401 University Avenue , University of Washington : Seattle campus, Downtown, Seattle , UCAS

Donum leaned against the wall next to the door, arms crossed over his chest and the brim of his hat pulled down to cover his eyes. He listened as students passed by, moving to and from class along the sidewalks. Bob waited patiently at his side, tail flipping lazily back and forth. After perhaps five minutes, two pair of footsteps approached. Donum glanced up as the footsteps passed him heading for the door, taking in the coeds' sleek winter jackets and their stylish scarves.

"I can't believe it, five chapters by Friday? That's totally unfair!" said the first one, sliding her ID card through the maglock reader. The door buzzed and she pulled it open.

"I know, totally!" agreed her companion, stepping inside. Donum waited for a second, then slipped through the door just as the first coed released it and stepped inside. He continued to move to his right, pressing his back against the wall. The door hesitated only momentarily before closing, a fact missed totally by either coed.

"Very nice," commented Bob. Together, he and Donum took the stairs up to David's seventh floor apartment. The hallway is empty, although the sounds of trideos and stereos attested to the occupation of most of the apartments on the floor.

17:39:26 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Borley Hall, 401 University Avenue , University of Washington : Seattle campus, Downtown, Seattle , UCAS

"Very nice," commented Bob.

"Why, thanks!" Donum replied, suppressing a proud smile.

"No, not you, silly... the girl on the left. She has quite the nice tushy," the mentor spirit replied.

After the girls were out of sight, together he and Donum took the stairs up to David's seventh floor apartment. The hallway is empty, although the sounds of trideos and stereos attested to the occupation of most of the apartments on the floor.

Donum looked down the hall through as he peered through the crack of the stairwell door. Though the sounds told him that plenty of folks were in their rooms, the traffic in the hallway itself seemed rather non-existent so far.

"So, you got all the way up here, and you don't have any idea how you're going to get inside, do you?" Bob asked.

Donum sighed. He usually hated admitting when his mentor was right. At least, out loud.

"I had a different plan. David has a girlfriend, and if she's worried about him, she very well might be at his apartment, waiting for him to contact her, or to simply come home. I know that's where I'd be if my partner were missing."

"Oh, Donum, I didn't know you cared so much about me," Bob drolled. "But what if she's not there?"

Donum gave his mentor a smirk. "Well, I figure it couldn't hurt to ask some of his neighbors. Maybe they're friends, maybe they're just as worried as his sister is."

"Those are a lot of 'maybes', Donum," Bob replied doubtfully.

Donum smiled as he rose up, mentally dropped the Invisibility spell, and strode confidently into the hallway. "Have a little faith."

The mage strode down the hallway as if he belonged there. Acting shy and timid would probably attract more attention than just trying to act normal.

17:42:18 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Borley Hall, 401 University Avenue , University of Washington : Seattle campus, Downtown, Seattle , UCAS

Donum rapped smartly on the heavy duty plastic panel that served as the door to David's apartment. He strained to hear anything from within the apartment, trying to tune out the multiple sources of extraneous noise drifting down the hall. Donum knocked again, with similarly disappointing results. With a sigh, he turned to the other multitude of doors that lined the hallway, wondering which he should try first.

17:42:53 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Borley Hall, 401 University Avenue , University of Washington : Seattle campus, Downtown, Seattle , UCAS

Donum confidently moved down the hallway to the door that leads to the apartment of David's nearest neighbor.

"Plan B", he said with a slight chuckle as he smartly wrapped his knuckle against the door.

17:44:09 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Borley Hall, 401 University Avenue , University of Washington : Seattle campus, Downtown, Seattle , UCAS

It took two more solid poundings before the door opened, revealing a vacant blue-eyed face topped by a mop of unruly blonde hair. Donum took in the kid's stained sweatpants and rumpled polo shirt.

"Yeah?" asked the kid, voice barely audible over the pulsing neo-trip hop beat rolling from the apartment.

"Do you know David, the guy who lives next door?" asked Donum.

"What? You're gonna hafta speak up, man!" The kid shook his head, pointing to his ear.

"Think you could turn down the music a bit?" thundered Donum.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. There's no need to yell." The kid turns back to the apartment and moments later the music dims to a manageable level. "That better?"

"Yeah, thanks. So, do you know David, the guy that lives next door?" Donum gestured to the empty apartment.

"Sure, he's a good guy. History major, right? No, some kind of engineer, I forget. Why, what's up?"

17:44:45 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Borley Hall, 401 University Avenue , University of Washington : Seattle campus, Downtown, Seattle , UCAS

Donum forced himself to smile and appear as friendly and polite as possible.

"Well, it seems he's kinda up and disappeared... you haven't seen or heard from him the past couple days, have you? Even in passing?"

"Maybe seen his girlfriend recently visiting his apartment?"

"Any strange noises/loud music coming from next door in the past few days, perhaps?"

"Anything else you might consider out of the ordinary?"

17:46:19 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Borley Hall, 401 University Avenue , University of Washington : Seattle campus, Downtown, Seattle , UCAS

The kid shakes his head. "Nope, haven't seen him around recently. Or his girl either. You're talking about the sweet looking one with the dark hair, right? She hasn't been around lately. No, I haven't heard anything out of the ordinary, why? How come you're so interested?"

17:46:28 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Borley Hall, 401 University Avenue , University of Washington : Seattle campus, Downtown, Seattle , UCAS

Donum listened intently to the young man's replies.

"It's a family thing, my friend. He hasn't been seen in many days, and people are starting to worry," he says with a concerned frown.

"But hey," Donum continues, his face brightening hopefully, "could you help me out maybe? If I give you my contact info, could you maybe give me a shout if you see or hear from him or his girl? There could even be a few nuyen in it for you if any info you provide helps find him?"

Donum digs into his duster pocket and pulls forth an abused-looking business card. He tries his best to keep from blushing as he tries to smooth and straighten the card out, and then offers it to the young man.

"I also provide consulting and tutoring services in Occult Studies and Ancient Latin, as well, if you or any of your friends might be interested," he finishes with a warm smile.

17:46:53 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Borley Hall, 401 University Avenue , University of Washington : Seattle campus, Downtown, Seattle , UCAS

The kid nods, glancing at the card with no real recognition.

"Yeah, sure, call if the girlfriend stops by. No problem, man. See you later."

The door closes in Donum's face.

17:58:21 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Borley Hall, 401 University Avenue , University of Washington : Seattle campus, Downtown, Seattle , UCAS

Donum turned on his heel after thanking the last neighbor for their time. All of their responses had been like the first - meaning, not overly helpful or informative.

He bit his lower lip as he made his way back to the stairway he had used to reach this floor. At least going down the stairs would be less strenuous than going up them had been. Thank goodness for small miracles.

"So, what next, genius?" Bob asked as he kept pace with Donum going down the stairs.

"Well, next step would be to find out what we can about our friend on the net," he replied.

"Hmmm, you and computers don't mix very well, Donum. So what's the plan?"

Donum pondered as he rounded the landing between floors 3 and 4. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to bug him, but I guess I might have to pay a visit to Pipe Wrench," he eventually replied.

"Oh.... bad memories there, I see," Bob replied.

Donum grimaced only slightly, past images flaring-up before his eyes, as if they were only yesterday. "Something like that."

A few moments later, he made it to the bottom landing on the main floor. Donum closed his eyes and focused, expending the necessary energy to render himself invisible again. He then waited and watched for someone else to come through the main door, intending to slip out the same way he had slipped in.

18:07:39 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Borley Hall, 401 University Avenue , University of Washington : Seattle campus, Downtown, Seattle , UCAS

It didn't take long for his first opportunity to present itself, the late hour proving to be the prime traffic time for the dorms. Students returning from late afternoon classes or lab periods, or on their way out to grab some food, or head to the library, or various study groups. Timing his exit, Donum slips out amidst a crowd of track suited runners heading down towards one of the many jogging paths that wind their way across the campus. His departure is unnoticed, a simple ghost of the wind skirling down the sidewalk towards his parked car. After that, home. One of the benefits of going to see Pipe Wrench was that Donum didn't have to leave the comforts of his own apartment.

22:51:09 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Casa Bonita Apartments #313, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

"The vehicles match our target," said Bridger's voice, coming through Shard's commlink. The mage nodded, knowing that his partner could read the silent response through his own surveillance, and dropped into astral space.

The world resolved itself into the multispectral hues of mana, a ghostly glow of pastel green and blues surrounding the harsh gray outlines of mundane reality. Orienting himself with respect to the apartment where the surveillance team waited before diving out through the wall closest to the road, Shard's consciousness soared free from the bonds of flesh and bone. The spectral form of his willpower moved with a thought until it stood in the middle of the road, staring at the pair of vehicles hurtling towards him at over a hundred kph. Shard grimaced. If either one of these has a ward up, it's going to be a bad day.

The first vehicle was larger than a sedan, he guessed Towne Car since it wasn't quite large enough to be a limo. It was on him within seconds, and he had time to glance to the left and the right before it was through. No ward, but five passengers inside, one of which was child sized. With a thought he was back in his body, opening his eyes in the gloom of the darkened room, a thin smile forming on his lips. He keyed the mic on his comm.

"Target vehicles approaching, the child is in the lead vehicle." A double mic click answered his transmission, and he rolled to his feet, headed towards the door at a run. He would have to hurry to get to his support position.

In essence, the team was setting up an L-shaped ambush, with the short leg of the L parallel to the airport access road. The long leg stretched across the road, and was anchored on either side by gun positions. Or, rather, by single gunners. Dragon was on the far side of the road, solo because he was the most capable. Erebus and Sybersnake waited on the opposite side, along with one of Bridger's drones, they would anchor the ambush. Dragon would be the jaws of the trap.

Dragon watched as the vehicles, a Lincoln Towne Car and a GMC MPUV, made the turn onto the airport access road. His viewpoint was from overhead, a remote feed from one of Bridger's surveillance drones. He, himself, was completely hull down in the ditch, concealed by a thin tarp sewn through with strips of gray, green, and brown burlap. The field expedient ghillie suit had taken only a couple of hours to construct, and had helped kill the time while waiting for Martinez to show up. The waiting always chewed him up inside, nervous energy careening through the network of fiber optics lining his spinal cord, making his skin crawl and his fingers twitch. Now, though, with action imminent, the world settled into the glassy calm he associated with combat, when everything took on a sheen of perfect detail as adrenaline accelerated the survival centers of his brain. With difficulty, he could just make out the small clump of trash on the side of the road half a second before the lead vehicle came abreast of it. He lunged up out of the ditch.

The world resolved itself in slow-motion detail the way it always did when Dragon transferred from remote viewing to his own eyes on target. The Towne Car was a gloss black, bearing Aztechnology corporate plates. The windows were mirrored, throwing back a crazed reflection of the brightly lit airport buildings on the right hand side of the street. The MPUV behind it was a dark metallic gray, also with Aztechnology plates and mirrored windows. Someone inside was way too quick, because the vehicle was already swerving towards him. It would be too little, too late. His finger tightened on the trigger of the Ares Alpha just as the Towne Car triggered the nutcracker.

Initially, Dragon hadn't wanted to utilize any company weaponry, but when it came right down to it, neither he nor Erebus, nor their two hired associates had the firepower to reliably stop one, let alone two vehicles. So he'd requisitioned an equalizer from the armory. The mercs had developed it in response to a need for a rapid breaching tool that could penetrate a hardened bunker. Essentially a flattened plastic cube, forty centimeters long by twenty centimeters high and twenty centimeters deep, inside were two kilos of plastic explosive, packed in a shallow arc behind a thin dish of copper. When the charge detonated, it blew the copper lining free as an explosively formed penetrator, a dart of high energy molten metal that could slice through nearly half a meter of reinforced concrete. The field crews nicknamed them nutcrackers.

The detector was thermal based, with a ten degree forward cant. It triggered off the engine heat from the Towne Car, just before the vehicle's wheels were abeam the explosive. The penetrator ripped through the thin armor of the vehicle, shearing off the engine compartment just before the firewall. The Towne Car fishtailed violently, coming to a rapid halt.

Bridger's lone combat drone, a Doberman, unloaded simultaneously, its Ingram White Knight punching holes through the windshield of the MPUV. Dragon's finger took up the last of the slack on the trigger of his Alpha, and the underbarrel grenade launcher chugged. The round already had the range to target via the weapon's cybernetic link, but the motion of the MPUV carried it a meter closer in the intervening time. Dragon had been counting on the disparity, though, as the wire-wrapped anti-personnel projectile punched through the damaged windshield of the MPUV, detonating once inside the passenger compartment. All the windows of the MPUV exploded outwards in a shower of glass and flechette fragments. The vehicle slewed to the side, tracking towards the ditch. Dragon had already switched targets, though. His finger once again took up the slack on the trigger, even as he switched weapon modes through his smartlink interface. The numeral 42 glowed to life in the upper right hand corner of his vision, then counted down to 39 as he ripped out a three round burst at the first person to come tumbling out of the Towne Car.

To his left, he could see Erebus on his feet, moving forward towards the car, his borrowed Mossberg shouldered. The shotgun thundered twice, solid slugs blazing downrange. The Exec Sec squad Martinez had selected was good, three of the four were out of the Towne Car, and two were even crawling from the smoldering wreckage of the MPUV. Dragon hammered out another pair of three round bursts, the faint glow of the smartlink crosshairs holding on the exposed shoulder of the bodyguard taking cover behind the rear driver's side door. Glass exploded outwards beneath the impact of the E-X Explosive rounds, the guard pitching backwards to sprawl motionless on the ground. Return fire crackled through the air around him, a line of fire scoring across the back of his shoulders. He pivoted as he ran, switching targets even though his primary target was still unsecured. They had hoped to neutralize the MPUV with a quick shot, but the Exec Sec team was proving to be more robust. Damn Azzies.

Gunfire snarled, the heavy hammer of Erebus' Mossberg mixed in with the lighter staccato of submachinegun fire. Dragon stitched nine rounds through the broken windshield of the MPUV, the last of the burst catching one of the Azzie guards as he stood back up to fire, blowing off the top of his head. Another guard slipped around the edge of the vehicle, the muzzle of his Alpha swinging to bear. Dragon twisted desperately, trying to draw a bead on the target. Shard lurched onto the street, Colt Manhunter held in his hand and concentration written on his face. The Azzie guard crumpled face first onto the ground. A burst of submachinegun fire from the Towne Car kicked Shard to the ground, he grunted in pain, rolling into the ditch. Bridger's drone fired beneath the car, the heavy LMG rounds blasting through the ankles of the Azzie sheltering behind the vehicle, then coring through his body as he toppled to the ground in pain.

"Roberto!" screamed Sybersnake. Dragon lunged forward, using his mass to check the slim decker to the ground. Martinez rose up from behind the passenger door, the Ares Predator in his hand blazing away. The heavy 10mm rounds slammed into Dragon, sending him to his knees in a blaze of pain. Erebus laid his shotgun across the roof of the car and blew Martinez's head off.

"Time to go," hissed Dragon through clenched teeth, rising despite the jagged pain of his cracked ribs. Sybersnake already had her son in her arms, and responded to his point. The cars were fifty meters to the west, across a narrow stretch of grass and trees to the parallel access road. The Doberman trundled down into the ditch and up the opposite bank as he glanced to the side of the road where the ruins of the MPUV sustained a sluggish fire. Erebus jogged past, shotgun held under his right arm. His left arm dangled loose, bicep mangled from gunfire. Shard was right behind him, moving well for a man who'd taken two rounds center of mass.

Dragon closed the rear of the group, emerging from the underbrush to see Sybersnake leaning over her son in the backseat of Erebus' car. Shard was gripping the elf's arm in what must have been a painful grip, but only relief showed on Erebus' face. As Dragon watched, the wound on his friend's arm closed of its own accord, only a brutal purplish bruise remaining. Erebus dropped the shotgun into the open trunk, moving around to the driver's seat. The slim mage turned at the samurai's approach.

"The boy's okay, I already checked him."

Dragon nodded, fishing out a pair of credsticks from his pocket, handing them over.

"You and Bridger did a good job."

Shard pocketed the payment, then laid his hand on Dragon's shoulder.

"Job's not over yet."

Dragon immediately felt the unnatural warmth that he associated with magical healing, struggling not to clench his teeth as he felt the broken bones knit together of their own accord. As Shard finished, Bridger's van rolled up, drones recovered and stowed away.

"Thanks," replied Dragon, unclipping his Ares Alpha from its assault sling so he could stow it in the trunk of the car. "Good luck."

"Watch your back, friends," replied Bridger, nodding once before the van accelerated into the night. Moments later, Erebus' car disappeared in the opposite direction.

18:57:19 Monday, 08 January 2063 - 2112 Acacia Ave, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

Donum eased his vehicle back into its lair behind the apartment building in which he lived. He removed the key and silently waited as the engine turned a few more times, and finally sputtered to a halt. He exited the vehicle and closed the door as quietly as he could, then carefully took a few pieces of debris that perpetually decorated the back lot, and used them to cover parts of the vehicle as best he could. One thing Donum learned over time was that the junkier your ride looked, the less interesting it was to car-jackers and vandals.

At least, that was the theory.

Donum walked around the side of the building toward the front, peeking around the final corner to see if his land-lady was sitting on her doorstep waiting for him. He didn't expect her to be outside at this hour, but one never knew. He even considered using another Invisibility spell to stealth his way inside, but laughed at the thought of sneaking into his own home.

He entered his apartment and shut and locked the door behind him. He removed his hat and hung it on one of the hooks on his coat-rack, and did the same with his duster. He went to his kitchenette and fetched a drink.

He knew he was stalling. He knew Pipe Wrench would be his next logical step - someone with the net skills to see what could be discovered about his client.

"Just get on the commlink and call him," Bob finally said.

"I think that's a record - you went an entire hour without saying something," Donum quipped.

Bob rolled his eyes (if a dog could roll its eyes), and responded, "Just call him already. Bad memories aside, he's the next logical step."

Donum sighed. "Pipe's an ok guy. It's not like we haven't kept in touch or anything, 'cause we have. It's just...."

"It's just that you fear he blames you, even though he's never said as much," Bob finished.

Donum nodded somberly, old memories and feelings clouding his mind. He sighed again, and walked into his 'den' (the other half of his kitchen) and fetched the commlink from his desk.

"Are you still using that old thing from the 20th century?" Bob asked.

Donum chuckled, "Come on, Bob. It ain't that old... besides, rent comes first, food second, then I can start worrying about a new commlink."

"That's what you said last week... last month... last year," Bob drolled.

Donum chose not to respond, and instead focused on the device. As he powered it on, it let out a long squeal of static, and then powered itself off again.

"You've got to be ki...." Donum began, but a second later, the device powered back on. Donum sighed again, this time in relief. He felt a sense of urgency as he entered in the data necessary to contact his old friend - and co-runner.

Who knows? Maybe if he was lucky, Pipe Wrench wouldn't even be home...

18:57:44 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Seattle LTG

For good or ill, in this day and age, you didn't have to be home to be connected to the grid. Nevertheless, the call connecting icon blinks long enough that Donum almost thinks it's the voicemail system when it finally connects. The cold, synthetic voice on the line, though, quickly disabuses him of that thought.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my old friend Moriarty. To what can I attribute this happy occasion?"

18:58:07 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Seattle LTG

Donum hesitated, hearing his old comrade's voice on the other end.

"Try not to sound too desperate!" Bob urgently whispered - as if anyone but Donum could hear him anyway.

"Hey there, PW. Long time no chat. I know you're usually pretty busy and all, so I'll get to the point so I don't take up too much of your time. I'm looking for some info on someone who has gone missing, and while I could certainly search the grid myself - you're far faster, more efficient, and, um, able to see things I can't. As you know, I never was too handy with tech."

Mentally cursing himself for rambling, he finishes, trying to sound as casual as possible. "I've got some data on the guy and can upload it to you - if you're interested. I'd be willing to toss, say, 10% of my finder's fee your way if any info you can provide proves useful."

He then waits for Pipe's response.

02:14:44 Thursday, 11 January 2063-Corner of E. Denny and Broadway, Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

“Fully invested?� Rod breathed wearily, looking down and balancing his forehead on the heel of his left hand. “I’ve got my former team spying on me, I owe enough money to get killed for to people that will kill people for owing them money,� he said in his nasal-twang, ticking off reasons on his right hand “,and I’ve sold out my former team in order to pay said people. Yeah, you could say I’m fully invested. I'm still not sure why you're invested, but whatever reasons you've got, thanks for getting my hoop out of there.�

Rod brought his head back to level with Leo and taking a slug of standard-issue McHugh’s soycaf, he continued, “Yeah, I’ve got some ways to move that container. The yard’s not got a good magical setup, but if they get someone I should be able to hold them off or drive them off long enough to get in and get out. We probably do need to get in there and get going; you’re right that Isir is probably going to move up their timeline if he can find another mojo-man,� He finished, seeming more comfortable saying what he could do.

“I’ll help as much as I can with the truck, just give me a little bit a’ warning. I’m not the flashiest magic-guy out there,� he finished, taking another hit of the soycaf.

18:58:38 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Seattle LTG

"Ten percent you say? All right, normally I charge at least fifteen, but since you're a friend, I'll help you out. Send me what you've got."

It's hard to tell from Pipe Wrench's tone of voice, but Donum can almost hear a conciliatory tone rather than the usual sarcasm.

18:58:45 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Seattle LTG

Donum kept his relief silent, but he couldn't help but smile.

"Thanks PW. Forwarding the info.... now," he said, as he touched a few keys on his PDA. He silently prayed that the aging device would upload the data correctly.

"You'll ring me once you've found anything?"

18:58:45 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Seattle LTG

"Yeah, I've got it. Twenty four hours." Pipe Wrench kills the call.

"I think he might still have some hard feelings," said Bob, yawning cavernously before laying down on his belly.

"Yeah," agreed Donum with a sigh.

02:14:44 Thursday, 11 January 2063-Corner of E. Denny and Broadway, Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

“Good, good, this can work then. We shouldn’t waste any more time.�

They walked out the front of the McHugh’s and to the car, Roderick sliding into the driver’s seat while Leo moved around to the back.

“Pop the trunk for a moment,� he told the mage; he was answered moments later by a hollow thunk, the top of the rear compartment rising a few centimeters. Leo opened it the rest of the way, taking a wry assessment of the items residing inside.

“About what I expected,� he said, picking up a crinkled Atlantean Foundation pamphlet from the back as Roderick joined the inspection, engine still idling.

“Hey, don’t sneer, that stuff is the real deal,� Roderick said, mistaking the Russian’s facial expression as he snatched the digital paper away, “there’s good magical research going on, not just trid shows and puff pieces.�

Leo nodded thoughtfully, “I know. They had a dig in Ukraine, isolated, high security. The research was very real, very angry.�

“Uh, yeah,sure. Well most people have just played the sims or chipped the action dramas and assume it’s all drek.�

Leo shrugged and slammed the trunk shut, feeling the need to brush his hands against his pants after only a brief foray inside, “Just seeing what else we have to use. That dust cover should be useful, your car is recognizable otherwise, the rest, not so sure.�

“Hey you never know what might be useful, that’s why I keep all that stuff back there,� Roderick called over his shoulder as he jumped back behind the wheel and closed the door behind him. Leo decided not to question the statement, satisfied that at least a modicum of the other man’s bravado had returned, hopefully in preparation for possible trouble ahead. He opened the passenger door and sunk into his own seat.

“Port of Tacoma Road, right?� he asked as Roderick jiggled the gear shift, slapping it between thumb and pinkie.

“Yeah, there are some unused buildings near the intersection at Eleventh, plenty of obstructions, places to keep an eye out,�

The car backed out of the parking spot with a gurgling, base roar. Leo simply gave a quick point forward, a dismissive flick of the wrist, and the car leapt to speed, tossing slush as it merged into the light afternoon traffic.

03:46:44 Thursday, 11 January 2063-Corner of 11th and Port of Tacoma Road

They parked the car in an unused lot, across from the docks and shielded from view by a line of corrugated, plasteel ISO containers. With the dust cover on, the Z-M looked all the part of an abandoned vehicle, left to rust by a previous owner. Leo chose a spot that offered as panoramic a view as possible while still well hidden, between two of the metal crates that had another crate stacked across the top spanning them to block visual coverage from the sky. It was not ideal by any stretch, but they would be undisturbed by any casual observers at the very least.

“Get comfortable,� he told Roderick, while mentally toning down the temperature receptors and restlessness simulators in his limbs, “we might be here a while.

21:15:07 Friday 13 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

"Tino."

Cosmo's voice, low and warm, held all the affection of a lifelong friend and belied the fact that they had known one another for less than a week. Even to her trained ears there was no trace of deception; if it was a bad time to call then her contact would find some way to let her know and they could end the conversation with none the wiser.

She took a moment to glance around her little kitchen, only lamenting the lack of real food for a moment before easing herself up to sit on the spotless countertop, a large bowl propped on one knee.

21:15:41 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

"Bellissima, signora, how good it is to hear from you again." Tino's voice echoes the warmth Cosmo has infused into her own. In the background she can hear the diffuse noise of Il Grano, the sussuruss of conversation broken by the ringing of flatware against fine porcelain. The sounds brought unbidden memories, images that clouded her resolve and she pushed them away with difficulty, smiling instead at her thought of the suave Italian fixer seated in his booth next to Magdalena.

"I need some help."

Tino chuckled. "Ah, signora, if only all of the calls for help came from beautiful young women. I might end up being more of a philanthropist. How may I be of help?"

21:16:22 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

"It should be simple enough - I'm looking for a car, a trustworthy driver, and an actress that would not be averse to an hour's shopping tomorrow afternoon."

Cosmo smiled into her bowl of noodles, absently poking at the twisted strands with a pair of disposable chopsticks. Ah, but she'd do a lot for a bottle of good wine just now, even if she would have to drink from a plastic cup.

"Can we do business, signore?"

21:17:08 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

"Hmmm. For an hour? Eight hundred nuyen. Plus whatever stipend you're willing to allot for your actress."

In the background, Cosmo can hear the clicking of keys as Tino coordinates her request.

21:17:51 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

Thinking back to the last truly spectacular pair of shoes she'd owned, she repiled almost immediately. If she couldn't indulge .. then at least she'd be able to shop vicariously through another.

"Eight hundred for expenses. I'll also need a clear spot to set up before the excursion."

21:18:12 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

"We have an accord. If you know of a place, I can have the limo meet you there. Or you could wait for it in the parking garage of your apartment. Which would be more suitable for your needs?"

21:19:45 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

"3620 Marathon, 12:30 tomorrow. Have your driver pull in, park for five minutes, and then proceed to Westfield Center. Our actress will have approximately forty five minutes to shop while the limousine waits with the other cars in the designated underground parking lot. A drop off to the same location will be necessary as well, signore."

21:20:18 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

"I will pass your instructions along to the driver. Buena sera, signora."

Dead air replaces the warmth of Tino's voice on the line. Cosmo sighs, successfully resisting the urge to pace the length of the small room once more. She settled for a simple stretch, reaching her arms above her, rotating her palms out, and inhaling deeply. She'd waited here long enough, soon would come the time for action. And then, finally, perhaps the answers.

She watched him as he stood against the glass doors of the balcony, moonlight silvering his skin. Despite the shadows, she could clearly see the lines and puckers of his scars, the badges of a lifetime lived in warfare. His gaze was distant, somewhere out beyond the horizon, beyond the sodium orange clouds which hovered over the city. She rose quietly, padding across the room to stand beside him.

'You can tell me,' she wanted to say. 'Whatever it is - whatever I can do. Just tell me.'

She stood beside him instead, her body soft and warm, offering the sort of quiet comfort he needed .. for the moment.

09:09:55 Saturday, 13 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo groaned loudly, her hand groping sightlessly for the alarm clock that should have been well within reach. No music for her, she couldn't bring herself to listen to anything even remotely enjoyable first thing; the blaring siren next to her bed suited her mood perfectly. Most mornings.

However gratifying it was to slap the alarm to silence she could only sigh, knowing that she wouldn't be able to revisit the dream. However much she wanted to. Slipping from between 150 thread count sheets to pad barefoot across her cheap tile floor only brought home to her the inadequacy of her situation. Her shower sputtered for a good thirty seconds before the water, cold at first, began to stream over her.

"Almost done."

...

Her kit was laid out. It wasn't much, but then the job didn't require much. Dark clothes, gloves and a hood. A bag that would be strapped against her stomach contained her tools along with half a dozen flexible rubber tiedowns. Her fingers trailed across these for a moment before she pulled the zipper home, drew her hood forward, and locked the door behind her.

'In and out. Back in two hours.'

12:51:26 Saturday, 13 January 2063 - Eastbound on Caravan Avenue, Los Angeles, CFS

The rendezvous with her rented limousine had gone as smooth as hoped for, the vehicle pausing long enough for Cosmo to roll beneath it and secure herself out of sight. The rubber tiedowns held her in place easily, acting to dampen out the worst of the jarring as the limo rolled through the morning traffic. As it was, Cosmo swore that once these jobs came to an end, she would never again face the pavement at sixty kph from only thirty centimeters away. She worried about the ground clearance once they got to the mall, but the edge of the body panel was lower than her (barely), so as long as the limo didn't bottom out, things would work out.

Work out. Right.

Once again, Cosmo smirked at herself and the irrepressible sense of optimism that current events couldn't quite crush. If all of the nightmare feelings before hadn't done it, then neither could HardBitten and his cynical professions of doom. Not even the knowledge of what might be waiting for her after the party at the hotel could steal away that kernel of hope that still burned within her.

She found herself haunted by a vision of eyes as coldly blue as a November sky.

13:19:42 Saturday, 13 January 2063 - Westfield Shopping Center parking garage, 7330 Hazard Court, Los Angeles, CFS

With careful slowness, Cosmo lowered herself to the cool cement floor of the parking garage. Her trojan limousine was parked directly adjacent to the target vehicle, as per her directions. The driver was, in fact, making conversation with the driver of her target. Which was not in her directions, but was a useful kind of initiative from the hired help. She checked left and right for other traffic or surveillance. The parking garage was full of vehicles, thankfully, but foot traffic was low. Most pedestrians were intent on their destinations or returning quickly to their cars to continue the day's errands.

Using skills born of hours on the gymnastics mat, she slithered across the narrow gap between the two vehicles, pushing the case containing the explosives and detonator in front of her. Once there she paused again, senses straining to catch any indication that her movement was observed and that the game was up. Hearing none, she unzipped her tool pouch, laying it open on her stomach, and went to work.