00:11:27 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Bard's Guild, 521 Lincoln Ave, Downtown, Seattle

Geist let his glance flicker to Mac's two companions one last time before standing and waving off the muscle behind him with a lazy gesture.

"Don't be strangers, now, you don't have to wait for business before you stop in again."

Tristan saluted with his mostly empty cup of chai. "It was good to see you again, Geist."

The slim ork bowed, before turning back to the crowd of regulars that demanded his attention. Mac finished her coffee quickly, echoing the unspoken desires of the men to be done with the coffeehouse. Together, they slipped out as quietly as they entered.

"The Wharf," said Tristan as Kovacs fired the Land Rover's heavy diesel. Mac caught the look of tension that flashed across the tall samurai's face.

"Is there anyone that we're going to talk to that you haven't rubbed the wrong way?" she asked, half-jokingly. Kovacs shot her a look while Tristan laughed.

"Our erstwhile leader does seem to have that effect, doesn't he?"

Kovacs signaled and pulled out into traffic, heading south towards Tacoma. "This is why James Bond works alone."

16:47:40 Tuesday, 09 January 2063 - Jimmy John's Gourmet Sandwiches, Fall City Road, Redmond, Seattle

Remy might have noticed Joslyn's momentary distraction, if it wasn't for the ring of his own commlink. Rummaging through his pockets, he comes up with the unit just before the call goes to tridmail.

"'lo?"

"Hey, kid, hope I didn't catch you at a bad time.

"Naw, Danny, Jos and I are just catching a bite. What's up?"

"Found a new place for the shop. Meet me at 532 Temple Drive in Tacoma tomorrow, ten a.m. I want you to take a look and see what you think of the place."

"Yeah, sure!"

Wow, though Remy, that was quick!

00:37:13 Friday, 12 January 2063 – South on the I5, Downtown, Seattle

“And here I thought he worked alone to get all the girls.” Mac smirked and settled into the front seat, kicking off her boots and pulling her feet up beneath her. She settled her earbuds into her ears ready to stream music as she pulled the thin fiber optic cable from her commlink and held it up for the boys to see.

“Mind if I check out for a few, I’d like to put out a few feelers and see if I can't reach out to my network."

She didn't really wait for acknowledgement or permission before she inserted the end of the cable into the datajack behind her left ear and dove straight into the interface inside her commlink. She needed to craft a number of encrypted messages that wouldn't be easily intercepted by prying eyes. She worked on just what she was going to say to stay under the radar as the miles rolled on beneath her.

Inside her interface she wrote her notes to the girls who had the higher class clients, off the books of the various brothels they worked. She asked for access to any clients who worked at Yamatetsu, especially those that we're the type of clients she catered to (the kinkier the better). She played it that she had some info to broker from their competition thanks to a loose-lipped client of her own.

Each girl received the same note, except for Frankie who also received a request to meet online at one of their favorite haunts late tomorrow afternoon so they could talk. Mac needed to start setting up her contingency plans as well, and Frankie was her best connection to put those in motion. She "sealed" each note with a kiss, digitally encrypting each one before she fired them off to each of their private accounts. All six, Frankie, Holly Anne, Miranda, Cierra, Vanessa and Brandi Lyn's accounts all lit up with new messages.

She pulled herself out of her commlink, blinking a few times as she pulled the cable from her head and came back to Tristan sprawled across the back seat and Kovacs continuing to drive in silence and ever alert.

"Did I miss anything good while I was out?"

00:47:41 Friday, 12 January 2063 – The Wharf, 11080 Marine View Dr, Tacoma, Seattle

"Not much, no," replied Kovacs. "Tristan and I were just talking, though, and I think for this meet you two are going to go in and I'll back you from outside. We're not expecting the kind of trouble that cropped up at The Left Hand, but if trouble does happen, it's going to involve a lot more gunplay. And I can't carry anything large caliber through the door. So I'll stay in the parking lot and if anything goes down, stick close to Tristan and shoot anyone armed who isn't him or me."

Mac nodded, her mouth suddenly a little dry. "Who are we going to meet?"

"Diego Mirabal," said Tristan. "And don't let the name fool you, he's Yakuza through and through. It's a strongly male dominated organization, so expect some comments...."

He was about to add more until he caught Mac's glance from the front seat, her expression conveying just how adroit she was in dealing with misogyny.

"Right. Sorry."

Kovacs chuckled. The pitch of the truck's diesel changed abruptly.

"We're here."

He pulled off the road and into the back of the parking lot. Through the windscreen Mac could see a long warehouse type building, the last quarter of which was brightly lit. A trideo sign out front advertised it as The Wharf, and even at this distance a trace of the music was audible. She was starting to be able to pick out the guards, noticing four well dressed young Japanese men lounging by the front door in feigned casualness.

Both Kovacs and Tristan stepped out of the truck, and she followed suit, finding them by the open rear lift gate. Tristan was busy secreting several long bladed knives on his person, and she thought she recognized Baendyrmal's work. Kovacs, meanwhile, had flipped back the plastic mat covering the truck's bed to reveal a pair of long metal lockers. Opening one, he withdrew a large, bulky weapon, larger than the assault rifles Mac was familiar with. Instead of a magazine, the weapon had a large box attached to it, and the tall samurai withdrew a belt of caseless cartridges and fed them into the action. After that came half a dozen grenades that he slipped into the bellows pockets of his cargo pants.

"Ready?" asked Tristan. Kovacs nodded.

"On your call, it'll get noisy."

"Ready?" Tristan looked at Mac.

00:53:01 Friday, 12 January 2063 – The Wharf, 11080 Marine View Dr, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac's hand instinctively moved to her right hip to confirm what she already knew was there, and she managed to turn the movement into a casual smoothing of her coat. She forced herself to pull her gaze away from the heavy weaponry Kovacs wielded, which did little to assure her this was going to be "easier" than the Ancient's bar. She drew a deep breath and turned to Tristan and gave him a nod.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

She stuck close to Tristan’s side as they made their way towards the entrance of The Wharf, about half-way across the distance she pulled the tie from her hair and shook it out, letting it fall in a tumble of wild waves around her shoulders. If it came down to it, she’d play the role that she was most comfortable as, the arm candy…The whore.

It didn’t take long for the two of them to register on the radars of the four watching the door, their postures less relaxed and casual on the pair's approach, and Mac could feel the glares even from across the distance as the music grew louder.

Oh this should promise to be interesting…

She snaked her right arm around Tristan's waist as she stuck her left hand in the pocket of her coat casually, smiling softly as her fingers brushed over the familiar blade stashed there.

01:02:17 Friday, 12 January 2063 – The Wharf, 11080 Marine View Dr, Tacoma, Seattle

Tristan glanced over as Mac slipped her arm through his. "Null sheen, sister, we got this."

One of the Yakuza soldiers strode forward from the door, standing at the head of the stairs with his arms akimbo.

"Hoi! Kore wa, puraibēto pātī desu!" he sneered, pointing back towards the parking lot. Tristan didn't break stride, mounting the first three steps before coming to a halt. His close approach brought the rest of the soldiers to tense alertness, the three remaining fanning out to the sides of the first.

"I'm here to see Diego Mirabal," he said, his voice level but pitched to carry over the noise streaming from the open door of the bar. "Tell him that Mongoose is here to see him."

"We don't take orders from an ugly gaijin!" One of the other soldiers leaned over the railing and spat onto the steps at Tristan's feet.

"Fine. I'll let you figure out how to explain to him that the business contact he was expecting was turned away at the door." Tristan pivoted and took two steps down to the sidewalk, Mac still at his side. She heard a hurried conversation in Japanese behind them, too quick for her to follow, although neither speaker sounded happy.

"Wait!"

Tristan paused to glance over his shoulder.

"We will tell Mirabal that you have arrived. Wait here," said one of the soldiers, gruffly, before disappearing through the door.

"Thank you," replied Tristan, moving again to the base of the stairs. Several minutes passed as the other three glared at them in silence. Then the first returned, his face even less happy than before if that were possible.

"Follow me, please."

Together, Tristan and Mac headed into the noisy inferno of the bar. In contrast to the reckless rowdiness of the gangers in The Left Hand, the vibe here was more club-like, from the polished chrome of the bar to the large dancefloor and deafening blast of neo-tribal-synth-pop over the speaker piles. Mac follows behind Tristan as they thread their way through the crowd, aware of the bubble of silence that surrounds them and the unabashed stares from the crowd. It becomes abundantly clear to her why Kovacs broke out the heavy weaponry.

They climb a short set of stairs and turn a corner and suddenly the noise level drops dramatically, as if someone closed a door behind them shutting out the worst of it. Tristan steps forward, giving Mac her first glance at their destination. A large, semi-circular banquette filled the end of the landing, illuminated by a series of ornate paper lanterns. Seated around it were four men and twice as many women, although Mac could tell at a glance they were there as eye-candy alone. One of the men started to rise, and the other three shot to their feet before he could, answering Mac's question before the introductions.

Mirabal was as tall as Tristan, although it was hard to tell if he carried the same heavy muscle definition beneath the expensive designer suit he wore. His skin was the same olive cast as his oriental companions, his hair as dark, but where their faces were flat and rounded, his was angular, more hawkish, almost Amerind. Tristan bowed, and Mirabal returned the gesture, slightly shallower.

"Mongoose. It's been a long time."

"You're looking well, Mirabal, thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

Mirabal waves away the suggested inconvenience, and other than the two very expensive emerald rings he wears, Mac can see that his right hand is missing the pinky finger.

"How could I turn down the request of an old friend? Not only would it have been impolite, I would have missed the opportunity to reminisce with someone of exceptional talent."

Tristan shrugged, smiling. "You say that as if your own skills were just happenstance. You are the best swordsman the ryu ever produced."

"Perhaps," Mirabal chuckles, seating himself again. "Perhaps I once was when I was younger. But I've grown old and fat and slow. You, though, seem to never age. You look the same as when I saw you two years ago."

"It's the miso that keeps me young," replied Tristan.

"I wonder, then," mused Mirabal, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Are you as fast as you were then?" He gestures with a nod, and both Tristan and Mac glance behind them to see a large open space at the opposite end of the landing. A large square in the middle, some four meters on a side, is floored with tatami mats. As they watch, a man steps out of the shadows, a sheathed katana held in his left hand.

Tristan looks back to Mirabal, who inclines his head in answer to the unasked question. Admission has its price.

"Here, I'll keep your woman company while you talk with Kuroda."

Tristan glanced at Mac, then back to Mirabal. "Talk, eh?" Not waiting for an answer, though, he shrugged out of his longcoat and began unbuttoning the high collar shirt of his Actioneer ensemble. Mac was surprised to see his katana slung beneath his left arm, surprised that she hadn't noticed it before. Leaving his clothes behind, he stepped towards the ring. Mirabal gestured, and the women next to him stood swiftly, making room for Mac.

"Come, sit my dear. We'll have an excellent view." He smiled at Mac, his dark eyes glittering in the neon light.

01:09:47 Friday, 12 January 2063 – The Wharf, 11080 Marine View Dr, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac inclined her head graciously towards their host as she kept her voice soft and polite, as if she knew her subservience in this room.

“Domo arigatou gozaimasu.”

She took her moment of “gratitude” to sneak in a look up at Tristan from beneath her lashes. She knew it was likely he could take care of himself, but this wasn’t where they met and she doubted magical healing was on standby if things went south. That was why Kovacs was on standby outside.

Mac felt a chill run through her at the thought and she tried to shake it off as she followed Mirabal to the proffered seat and took her place beside their host, agreeing silently that they did have the best view of the impending fight.

Watching Tristan make his way to the ring, a smile of approval couldn't be kept from Mac's lips. He was easy to look at and watching him fight was a thrill. She relaxed slightly as she sat next to Mirabal, well aware of his soldiers that were within arms reach. She waited for the opening strike and silently wished for no additional trouble.

01:21:04 Friday, 12 January 2063 – The Wharf, 11080 Marine View Dr, Tacoma, Seattle

In the time that it took Tristan to get ready, his opponent stripped to the waist as well. Apart from an impressively sculpted set of muscles, Kuroda also revealed a full set of irezumi, the traditional tattooing stretching down from his neck to his waist and down both arms. He waited at the edge of the square for Tristan, his face impassive.

Glancing around, Mac realized that the duel would be visible from the dance floor below, and that the crowd had positioned itself for a better viewing. She could see money changing hands below as bets were laid on first blood and eventual victor. Next to her, Mirabal sipped from a sake cup, his dark eyes silently evaluating.

Tristan stepped into the square, testing his footing, before facing his opponent and bowing. Kuroda returned the gesture, and the two fighters straightened. An electric tension filled the air, and distantly Mac could hear the bloodthirsty shouts of the crowd. On the landing, though, the only sound was the faint ringing of a wind chime.

The first strike came faster than Mac could see, Kuroda sliding across the two meters that separated the fighters, striking with the tsuka of his sheathed sword at Tristan's solar plexus. Tristan pivots, the blow scraping off with enough residual force to stagger him back. Mirabal chuckles as the fighters circle slowly. They stop perpendicular to Mac's gaze, and the electric moment stretches again.

Again, it is Kuroda who strikes first, lunging forward as he draws his blade, the strike curving upwards from hip to shoulder. Mac can only tell because of the freeze frame she catches as Tristan slides inside the arc of the sword, blocking with his own sheathed weapon before powering through with a thrusting sidekick. A quick twist spares Kuroda broken ribs, but this time he's the one forced to retreat and reset. An ugly snarl twists his lips, and he flicks the sheathe of his katana away, both hands going to the hilt of the blade.

Tristan presses forward on the tsuba of his sword, letting the first few centimeters of the blade whisper free from the sheathe, while his right hand curls around the hilt. The tension in the air is palpable now, Mac can feel it rolling off Mirabal seated next to her. Kuroda strikes and the fight begins. Steel flickers in the half light, ringing solidly as bodies torque together in the shallow illumination. Mac can't pick out the individual strikes, only the moments of stillness that intersperse a duel moving at sprinting speeds. It isn't just swords, either, both fighters use their natural weapons, the dull thud of flesh against flesh counterpointing the sharper ringing of the steel.

Kuroda and Tristan separate, breathing hard. Each fighter bleeds from half a dozen superficial cuts. Mac glances at Mirabal out of the corner of her eye, but the Yakuza shateigashira shows no intention of halting the duel.

"Your technique is impressive," praises Tristan in between short, controlled breaths. "You bring honor to your school."

"I was wrong to doubt the descriptions of your skill," replies Kuroda, "forgive me."

Mac wills herself to remain still, to trust Tristan and not to press the send button on her commlink, dispatching a message that would have ruinous results for everyone downrange of Kovacs. Once more the air grows thick as the energy between the two fighters coalesces, a dull thunder rising up from the crowd below as they anticipate the final exchange.

Kuroda strikes, a blindingly fast killing blow. Tristan is a flicker of motion, his body flowing around the strike with supernatural speed, his sword a blur. Steel shatters like a gunshot and blood spurts onto the mat. Kuroda stares in disbelief at the sight of his finger lying on the mat, the jagged remains of his katana hanging loosely in his hand. Tristan salutes with his blade, turning to collect the sheathe of his sword. Kuroda snarls, his broken blade coming up, but before Mac can shout a warning, Mirabal is on his feet. This time the gunshot is for real.

01:21:59 Friday, 12 January 2063 – The Wharf, 11080 Marine View Dr, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac flinched as the sound of the gunshot rang out from beside her. Her eyes went to Tristan first and her hand dropped to her side immediately after. It felt like an eternity passed in an instant as she waited for additional shots to ring out, shots that never came.

Her hands trembled slightly as she let go of the breath she had been holding, her eyes still locked on Tristan's face across the landing, refusing to glance towards the bleeding swordsman that was now missing a finger. A connection clicks in the back of her mind and more things fall into place.

The movement to her left of Mirabal reholstering his weapon under his expensive suitcoat, snapped her out of her tunnel vision and back to the immediate reality that surrounded her. The crowd below had gone eerily silent beneath them, disappointment and and almost tangible anger replaced the excitement of the moments prior. Before Mac could stop herself, a soft whisper left her lips.

"Jesus Christ."

01:33:12 Friday, 12 January 2063 – The Wharf, 11080 Marine View Dr, Tacoma, Seattle

"I knew you were exaggerating a bit about losing your speed." Tristan's canny smile and lax tone belied the tension in his shoulders, and the slowly relaxing grip on his blade that were they only indications that he'd almost thrown it through Mirabal when the latter drew his pistol. The Yakuza prince shrugged, a gesture that also served to dissipate the last tension in his own body.

"Perhaps a little. I think I was wrong about you, as well. You've gotten faster." A casual gesture cleared the rest of the banquette, Yakuza soldiers disappearing to attend to Kuroda and clear the remains of the duel. Tristan sheathed his sword, resting it against the polished teak table before pouring himself a cup of sake. The two men toasted silently and drank. Mac held out a cloth napkin, embroidered with a series of cranes in flight. Tristan shook his head minutely, preferring simply to don his shirt over his wounds.

"I have a favor to ask," started Tristan, finishing the last of his sake. He sat across from Mirabal, who nodded.

"I didn't think you'd come all this way just to pay an old friend a compliment, what can I do for you?"

"We're on a job with a bit of an open timeline, probably no more than a month, though. We're requesting use of safehouses and pipelines into and out of the city for the duration."

Mirabal nodded. "The service fees have gone up. But your reputation with us is still in good standing."

Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, he withdrew a slim business card, devoid of anything save an LTG number. Mac saw the hard lines of the Yakuza soften.

"And you are a good friend. Be careful."

Tristan smiled, the card disappearing into his pocket. "I am in your debt."

His sword disappears beneath his long coat, and Mac correctly reads his glance, standing. Mirabal stands as well.

"Thank you for your hospitality," she bows to Mirabal, who returns the gesture.

"Good night, old friend," says Tristan, bowing. The Yakuza prince returns the gesture, holding his pose longer than before notes Mac.

"Good luck," he says, simply.

01:43:36 Friday, 12 January 2063 – The Wharf, 11080 Marine View Dr, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac took her cue and slid from her seat and stood out of the way of the two men as they said their goodbyes, silently grateful that no additional blood was shed.

She let Tristan lead her out of the landing and back down the stairs, the pair of them sill collecting the stares as they passed through their crowds only with a slightly lower level of hostility on their way out. It wasn't until they had cleared the front and the four who guarded the door that she spoke another word and retreated a little inside the warmth of her jacket.

"So what exactly was the plan if everything went south?"

02:11:08 Friday, 12 January 2063 – 35010 Von Schilling Way, Renton, Seattle

"Head towards the back door while Kovacs kicked in the front." Tristan shrugged, as if the execution would have been as easy as the statement. Mac glanced at the swordsman, a reply as to how stupid that plan sounded on the tip of her tongue, but the half-light of the parking lot haloed his face and the grim readiness in his eyes. She realized that had it come down to it, that's exactly what would have happened. Kovacs would have shelled the building with every weapon in his arsenal, while Tristan cut a swath to the rear exit for the two of them. And damn the consequences of either course. She shivered.

Kovacs had the weaponry stowed and the truck running by the time they arrived at their spot, Tristan sliding in back while she climbed into the front bucket as usual.

"The first aid kit still in the side panel?" he asked. Kovacs nodded an affirmative, glancing at Mac. She shook her head.

"Don't look at me, I just sat and drank sake."

The truck pulls out of the parking lot, heading east towards the highway.

"Just a scratch," explained Tristan, topless again as he disinfected his wounds. "Got what we came for, though."

"Good. I'm closing us down for the night. We'll head out around ten tomorrow to set up shop. I told Drift and Suda to meet us there at noon. At some point I have to go talk to Zeyda again, and we should definitely try and hit Demetria tomorrow as well." Kovacs outlined the plan with dry, clipped tones.

"I'm assuming we're standing up the watch tomorrow night as well?" Tristan's tan skin was a patchwork of white gauze and medical tape.

"Yeah, so get some sleep tonight."

"Way ahead of you, boss."

And true to his word, Tristan slept the rest of the way back to Kovacs house, and probably would have stayed the night in the garage if the tall samurai hadn't poked him awake. Grumbling, he made his way inside and flopped down on the couch, sword close at hand. Kovacs glanced at Mac.

"Shower?"

02:21:53 Friday, 12 January 2063 – 35010 Von Schilling Way, Renton, Seattle

Mac glanced over at Tristan already nearly out cold once again on the couch and she felt her own eyes getting heavy and crashing out sounded delicious, but nodded in agreement as she started the familiar walk towards the bathroom. She left her longcoat in the living room and started to strip out of her tank top and bra as she went, topless by the time she hit the bathroom doorway.

She started the shower before she finished undressing, her Browning feeling remarkably heavy as she unclipped the holster from her belt and set it on top of the pile of her clothes on the counter. She left the door open in invitation to Kovacs, but Mac wasted no time slipping behind the shower curtain the second she could feel the steam in the air. She closed her eyes and stood beneath the spray, letting the hot water rush over her skin, everything that had happened this evening replaying in her head, committing lessons to memory as she relived them.

02:32:19 Friday, 12 January 2063 – 35010 Von Schilling Way, Renton, Seattle

Kovacs hung his coat in his room before heading into the bathroom, setting his weapons next to Mac's on the counter. Sliding behind the curtain, he ran his hands through the moisture beaded across her back, stepping forward to embrace her. Mac brought her arms up, curling them over Kovacs', her eyes finding the dull gray synthetic of his right. He nuzzled her neck, the day's growth of whiskers prickling her skin. His hands twisted, snakelike, and she felt her wrists captured and dragged behind her. She turned her face up to meet his, fatigue on her voice, that evaporated beneath the heat of his kiss. Mac twisted in his grip, her wrists pinned behind her while Kovacs's hand slid down over her stomach towards the sensitive folds between her legs. Mac let her head fall back against his chest, water streaming down her face as her passion built to a crescendo.

02:43:11 Friday, 12 January 2063 – 35010 Von Schilling Way, Renton, Seattle

Mac growled as Kovacs restrained her and his hand moved across her skin. Silently she cursed both herself and him for having this kind of effect on her. She writhed under his touch, beneath the cascade of water and against the inherent strength of his hold on her. Mac tried to fight the inevitable, however it didn’t take long before she felt the strength in her legs start to give and Kovacs reading the moment with near-perfect timing, released her wrists and snaked his arm around her waist to keep her standing.

She leaned back against him, turning her head out of the spray of the water just enough to catch her breath and turned in his arms pressing her body tight against him as she looked up at his face. Her eyes blazed with the feral hunger he had unleashed in her. Mac’s hands worked their way up Kovacs’ back, her nails digging in deep into his skin as she raked them down. His hand instantly tangling in her hair, clenching at base of her skull, displaying his control over her as she stilled for a moment before her hands found their way to his hips, leveraging her weight just enough to push him against the wall of the shower.

The steam in the bathroom coupled with the desire coursing through her was making it harder to breathe but it didn’t stop her from slowly crouching down, nails dragging over his wet skin, lips brushing over his stomach before she was kneeling at his feet. Mac looked up his body, finding the cool gray of Kovacs’ eyes watching her like a hawk. She raised up slightly on her knees and let her lips, mouth and tongue repay him with the pleasure he had given her.

03:01:29 Friday, 12 January 2063 – 35010 Von Schilling Way, Renton, Seattle

Kovacs let his hand tangle in Mac's hair as she enveloped him in the soft warmth of her mouth. I should have grabbed some rope, he thought to himself as he watched her kneeling before him. She teased him, bringing him close before backing off and letting his excitement wane, then starting again. He had other ideas, though, lifting her to her feet by her hair. Mac hissed in pain, unsheathing her claws to she could climb his body to bite his neck as he thrust into her, battering her against the wall of the shower. He growled, and pinned her to the wall by her neck. She coughed and wheezed, her hands clawing against the armored synthetic sheath of his cyberarm. He held her there until he felt her body begin to go slack, then released his hold, rocking his hips forward violently. She convulsed against him, crying out in pain and pleasure. It stole the last of his control away, and he spent himself inside her, his arms wound tight around her.

03:09:03 Friday, 12 January 2063 – 35010 Von Schilling Way, Renton, Seattle

Mac gasped for air as her head dropped forward to rest against Kovacs' shoulder as he held her tight against him while the rest of her came down from the rush. It wasn't long before the water in the shower had gone from tepid to nearly ice cold which had both of them stabbing at the controls to shut the water off, forcing Mac to let go, standing again on wobbly legs and seeking dry towels for warmth.

As she wrung the water from her hair and dried herself off, she smiled up at Kovacs as he did the same.

"Tea, or bed."

03:17:41 Friday, 12 January 2063 – 35010 Von Schilling Way, Renton, Seattle

"Bed," replied Kovacs, scooping up his clothes and weapons and heading to the bedroom. Mac followed, glancing down the hall to see if their romp had woken Tristan. He still lay sprawled across the couch, but now he had a pillow over his head. She grinned before closing the bedroom door behind her. Kovacs was already in bed, leaning over to adjust something on the floor by his side. Mac slid between the covers, welcoming their warmth and the warmth of the body next to her. Kovacs draped an arm across her hip, his body spooning behind hers. It's only a matter of minutes before she hears his breathing deepen and he's asleep. In the near darkness of the room, she can just barely make out the outline of her pistol where it rests on the nightstand. Had it really only been a week since she first met Kovacs? She marveled at how much had changed in such a short period of time. Memories of them together surfaced in her mind, and she left the tension leave her shoulders. Minutes later she was asleep.

08:41:13 Friday, 12 January 2063 – 35010 Von Schilling Way, Renton, Seattle

Mac stirred awake slowly to the sounds of movement in the house after having crashed out hard. She sat up quickly as the room came into focus, and her sleep-shrouded mind processed Tristan's presence elsewhere in the house. She glanced over to the now-empty opposite side of the bed and frowned slightly before she stretched and dressed enough to be decent, making a bee-line for the front room finding both Kovacs and Tristan seated at the kitchen table, both of them growing quiet as she stepped closer. She rubbed at the corners of her eyes before she grabbed a chair across the table.

"Did you both eat? I can make breakfast if you haven't. If we have time?"

08:46:52 Friday, 12 January 2063 – 35010 Von Schilling Way, Renton, Seattle

"Ohhh, she said second breakfast!" Tristan grins gleefully. "You can cook whatever you'd like! We should keep her!"

Kovacs shoots him a look before turning towards Mac as he stands. "We have time, cook as much as you'd like. We're not taking any of it with us anyway."

He moves past her into the front room, which she notes has undergone a remarkable transformation. Gone are the disorganized piles of gear and weapons. In fact, all that's left are a few boxes and a large plastic tote in which rest all of Kovacs possessions that were lying around the shelves of the room. As she watches, he pulls the large art print off the wall and carries it, along with the plastic tote, out into the garage.

09:04:01 Friday, 12 January 2063 – 35010 Von Schilling Way, Renton, Seattle

Mac watched Kovacs carry out the last of his things with a slight frown on her lips before she flashed a sly smile in Tristan’s direction as she shook her head and made her way towards the fridge, realizing in that moment just how hungry she actually was.

“I always knew the way to your heart was through your stomach Tristan” She took stock of the contents of the fridge and mentally started calculating what she could throw together and what actually sounded good.

“So what do you want?” She looked back over her shoulder at the swordsman seated at the kitchen table and waited for requests.

“Surprise me.” Was all he said.

Mac just shrugged and started pulling out staples from the fridge, the remaining eggs, butter and soymilk before she started going through the still unfamiliar cabinets to find the other ingredients to the recipe that was bouncing around in her head. It wasn’t long before she had a pan going and was turning out golden brown pancakes. She grabbed the last two almost overripe bananas from the counter, forgetting the last time she had real fruit and quickly cut them and tossed them into the pan with butter, sugar and cinnamon before she poured some over the top of both stacks of pancakes and slid a plate over in front of Tristan. She grabbed a seat at the table and started to eat. Mac paused a few bites in when Kovacs hadn’t returned from the garage except to grab more boxes, and stared across the table at Tristan.

“Is he ok?”

09:21:27 Friday, 12 January 2063 – 35010 Von Schilling Way, Renton, Seattle

Tristan glanced up, his mouth full of a comically large bite of pancake. "Oo? 'R fearleth leadeh? Eeth fine. Eeth packinth."

Mac watched in a bit of amusement and dismay as he wolfed down the rest of the plate in four equally large bites, before washing it down with his entire glass of water. Finished, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and belched loud enough to rouse the neighbors.

"Mmm, just as good the second time. We're definitely keeping you around." He winked at Mac before glancing around the corner towards the open garage door.

"Don't worry about him. He's in ops mode. Makes him even more brusque than usual. Once we get settled in the new place he'll be back to his cheerful self."

The swordsman sat back at the table and returned to the task he was working on prior to Mac delivering breakfast, which, she realized with a start, was filling 30 centimeter V-shaped steel channel brackets with plastic explosives. Kovacs appeared through the door, brushing his hands together.

"Truck's loaded. I'm going to do one last sweep of the house. We're on the road in ten minutes."

Mac nodded, dumping her dishes into the washer and heading for the bathroom. She had time for a quick shower and to throw her meager possessions into a duffle bag with a few minutes left over.

Exiting the bathroom, she found Kovacs standing alone in the front room in a house that already felt chill and empty. Wordlessly he handed her a blank OMC chip. She gave him a quizzical look.

"Stash it somewhere safe. It's got all my recipes on it. You ready?"

"Sure?" She shrugged, pocketing the chip and not giving voice to any of her suspicions. Tristan was waiting for them in the truck, apparently napping.

"Carb coma?" she asked Kovacs.

"No, some people just kept me up all night with their-"

Kovacs coughed loudly to cover the rest of whatever Tristan was going to say while Mac took the more direct route and punched him in the leg. The swordsman laughed as the truck backed from the driveway and headed into the city.

09:50:14 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Their destination was a nondescript two story warehouse in a long row of similar nondescript two story warehouses. Kovacs keyed in a combination at the control box, and one of the two large vehicle doors scrolled upwards to admit them. The interior was a single open room, cement floored with walls of heavy duty construction plastic tacked to steel stringers.

"Home sweet home," grinned Tristan.

09:56:47 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac shook her head as she hopped out of the truck and looked around the space and got her bearings as much as she could without exploring. She headed back towards the lift gate of the truck and offered to help Kovacs start unloading.

“What can I do to help while we’re waiting on Drift and Suda?”

She fought to keep her true feelings about the shaman out of her voice when she said her name. Mac didn’t have issues with anyone else on the team so far, call it alpha female syndrome or just the fact that she didn’t trust Suda in the slightest. She shook it off as she grabbed for her bag, tossing it aside so she could grab something more important at that moment which got her thinking.

“Will we still have time to swing by my place today?”

10:12:06 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Kovacs hands Mac one of the large Pelican cases stacked in the rear of the Land Rover.

"I don't see why not. We can get the preliminaries done here and then swing by your place."

Tristan manhandled one of the double-size weapon lockers out.

"Leave me here and I'll finish the set-up. Swing back by with lunch. We can go see Demetria and Zeyda after the other two get here," he commented.

Kovacs hefted two large gray duffel bags out of the bed. "Sounds like a plan."

Together the three of them finished unloading the truck, stacking gear in a series of piles by its purpose. Tristan monkeyed up one of the support columns and into the rafters, lugging a spool of monofilament cable and a black hardcase. Mac gestured to the stack of standard issue collapsible cots.

"Where are we going to put the bedroom?"

Kovacs scanned the floor. "Over there seems to be the driest."

10:27:46 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac nodded and busied herself with moving cots and other essentials to what would become their living quarters for the foreseeable future. Every so often she stole a glance to the rafters to try to spot Tristan out of curiosity as to what he was up to, watching him weave his way with ease through the trusses and beams. She doubled back to the truck to grab the bag of her things that she left to the side and moved them over near the cots, choosing not to claim one for herself until everyone had arrived. Finding Kovacs organizing and restacking many of their weapons components, she glanced at the time that hovered in the corner of her vision as she leaned gently against the stacks of gear while he worked.

"Should we head out before it gets too late?"

Truthfully, she would have preferred to just swing by her place on her own and grab her things, building in her slowly forming and hardly elaborate contingencies along the way. However she knew there was no way Kovacs was about to let her go out on her own, and for certain not back to her apartment alone. She screwed on a soft smile before once again looking up to the rafters.

"Hey monkey man, have any requests for lunch?"

10:31:12 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Kovacs dusted off his palms. "Yeah, we should probably get going. You drive."

He tossed the keys of the Land Rover to Mac, closing the lift gate on his way around the back of the truck towards the passenger seat.

"Sandwich," came the reply to Mac's other question. Tristan was in the far corner of the warehouse doing something on the wall. "Warm. Chips. Lots of chips."

"Yeah, roger," Kovacs called back, standing on the truck's running board. "We'll be back in an hour."

10:39:57 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac shook her head as she grabbed the keys from the air and made her way towards the driver’s seat. Her mind already processing a laundry list of items from her apartment she wanted to grab.

An hour doesn’t leave me a lot of time to pack.

She carefully backed the truck out of the warehouse, waiting until the door went back down before she navigated her way back to the I-5 to take them back into downtown. She drove in silence, noticing it’s not quite as comfortable as it had been in the past as her mind was occupied with what laid ahead of them as well as being consciously aware of their surroundings as she pushed them further north.

11:16:41 Friday 12 January 2063 - 2356 E. Valley St., Apartment 423, Downtown, Seattle

Mac's apartment building looked worse from the outside in the grey half-light of day as the sun struggled to break through the pollution and clouds and the light falling snow tried to cover the gritty, broken neighborhood in something that seemed deceptively more pure.

By the time they reached the fourth floor and she had unlocked the door and looked around at what she had called home for the last couple of years, she just wanted to grab the few things she had wanted to come back here for and get out. Slipping inside the apartment she let Kovacs step inside before she habitually locked it up behind them. Her eyes scanned over the interior of the room, looking to make sure certain items hadn't been touched. Content when she saw a couple of specific items still on her bookshelves, she turned back to face Kovacs.

"I'll try to be quick."

Mac kneeled on the floor beside her bed, her hands reaching along the bed frame until her fingers wrapped around the item she was hunting for. Pulling the Remington out she was quick to eject all the cartridges completely before she pulled out the boxes of extra rounds from deeper beneath her bed. She set everything on top of the comforter, moving on to the next items on her mental checklist of what would be worth grabbing, and what she needed to have to start over somewhere else if the drek hit the fan.

Her eyes landed on a medium teal faux-snakeskin covered box tucked beneath other tchotchkes crammed on a small set of built-in shelves next to the door to the bathroom and she held her breath as she walked over to it. It contained her potential bankroll for her contingency plan if necessary. Pulling it out and lifting the lid she was grateful to see its contents intact. Her fingers danced over the various chips and BTL’s, the hits of eX, Bliss and her coveted Long Haul. She exhaled slowly, her next breath in was shallow and almost stuttered as the urge to “escape” threatened to suddenly overwhelm her. If her situation had been different, she wouldn’t have hesitated to pop a hit of eX or slot a chip, but with Kovacs watching over her and a list of things to do that could mean life or death for not only her but the team ahead of her…A reminder that popping eX was the catalyst to get her where she was caused her to snap the lid of the box closed hard and shove it deep into her bag to be out of sight, and hopefully out of mind for the time being.

She grabbed odds and ends of clothing and gear from piles around the apartment, some hidden spaces and obvious locations.

With the last few minutes before they needed to leave, Mac made a perimeter sweep around the apartment with a chair trailing her, pulling down the almost invisible motion sensors in each corner of the room along with the pair that guarded the door specifically and stashed them carefully in her bag, wrapped in some of her clothing for protection.

“That should do it.”

She hefted the bag over her shoulder and gestured towards the door, letting Kovacs lead the way out into the hallway as she took one last look around the space one more time before she shut and locked the door behind them.

As Mac stepped back outside and onto the street, she was relieved to see Wally's cart had returned to its usual spot. He was hunkered down beside it, his weathered face and dirty beard tucked into the top of his ripped coat trying to ward off the chill and the falling snow.

She walked over to him and kneeled down on the cracked and snowy sidewalk, setting her bag beside her. The smile that touched her lips was genuine as she had a soft spot for the old man who had watched out for her for so many years.

"Hey Beer Man."

The old man looked up and flashed Mac a smile full of broken yellow teeth.

"Hello Miz Turner! You haven't been around much lately. Been spending time with your friend over there?" The old man's smile faded a little as he looked Kovacs over warily.

She laughed softly at Wally's silent chiding over her choices of company.

"It's ok Wally, he's good to me." Mac cast a glance over her shoulder back towards Kovacs before turning back to Wally surprised to find it hard to find the words that she needed to say. Swallowing hard she tried to forget he knot in her stomach.

"I'm not going to be around much for a little while Wally, and I need a favor." She pulled the keys to her apartment from her pocket and pressed them into the old man's hands.

"The rent's paid up for a couple of months, so Spike shouldn't come around to bother you. It's not much, but it's dry and warm and the water's mostly clean. If anyone comes asking about me, tell ‘em the truth. I took a vacation."

She closed her eyes for a moment, knowing it could be the last time she saw Wally, no matter the outcome of what lay ahead of them, she wouldn't be coming back here. She leaned forward and brushed her lips across the scruffy cheek of the old man before she picked up her bag and crossed the distance to Kovacs.

"Can we get out of here. Now." Her voice was edged with steel as she didn't wait for his reply and stepped into the street to cross to the Rover.

11:22:18 Friday 12 January 2063 - 2356 E. Valley St., Apartment 423, Downtown, Seattle

For the entirety of the trip, Kovacs had remained still and silent, the relentless gaze of his cold gray eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. Although much of him remains inscrutable to her, Mac got the impression that his silence was more out of respect for her and what she had to do than anything else. He nods at her request, firing up the truck's heavy diesel while she stashed her bag in the cargo bed. He pauses before pulling out into traffic, the fingers of his left hand swiping through thin air to share a message with her.

Drift's here. Wants a sandwich. Pastrami. -T

"He's irreverent because you're serious all the time." Mac phrased her question like a statement, needing on some level for Kovacs to understand her intuitive ability to evaluate interpersonal dynamics.

"Like it's his mission in life," replied the tall samurai, and she didn't believe for a minute any of the bitterness in his tone.

11:49:27 Friday 12 January 2063 - Central Liquor and Deli, 610 University Heights Rd, Downtown, Seattle

For an out of the way store on a back road in the University district, Mac had to admit that their menu was quite savory. Kovacs had already ordered for himself and the other two back at the warehouse, and was busy rifling through the selection of pretzels and chips for Tristan.

12:00:04 Friday 12 January 2063 - Central Liquor and Deli, 610 University Heights Rd, Downtown, Seattle

The last thing Mac wanted to do at that moment was eat, she was too busy processing and coming to terms with the way her life had been upended in the last seven days. She ordered a sandwich anyway knowing it was likely they wouldn’t be getting much downtime today once everyone was together. She glanced at Kovacs rifling through the chips and raised a brow.

“We’re grabbing something for Suda I assume?”

Mac responded to his slight nod by making an educated guess, which was nothing more than a stab in the dark really, at what the shaman might like and finished up their order about the same time Kovacs dumped an assorted pile of chips on the counter. It was a short wait before their order was bagged up and the pair were headed back out to the truck.

Once inside Mac stayed quiet, almost a little withdrawn as they drove, perhaps taking after her new mentor a little too well and a little too quickly. There was plenty she wanted to talk about, but packing up her apartment and cutting more ties stung just a little too much at the moment. She popped a piece of gum in her mouth and lost herself in the view out the window for the remainder of the drive.

12:18:51 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

"Good, Drift is here," muttered Kovacs as they turned onto Willow Heights Road. Mac glanced up, pulling herself from her own thoughts to see what triggered his observation. Nothing appeared different to her: no vehicles in the parking lot in front of their warehouse, no change in the dingy gray exterior. She was about to ask him how he knew when a flicker of motion in the sky overhead caught her eye. Squinting, she was just barely able to make out the lines of a Renraku Stormcloud surveillance drone.

As the Land Rover pulled into the parking lot, the large vehicle door scrolled up to admit them entry into the dim interior, now much fuller than when they'd departed. Two of the three vehicles, the Roadmaster and the Shadow, that she first saw at Drift's garage are now parked inside the warehouse. Another sports car, this one a classic Eurocar Westwind, is in the far corner.

"Suda," said Kovacs, tonelessly, in response to Mac's gaze. Through the windshield she could just make out the slim figure of the cat shaman as she scribed something onto the floor of the warehouse. Kovacs killed the engine, and slid out of the truck with Mac close behind.

Drift and Tristan were seated in front of a rack of flat panel displays, the ork futzing with a bank of machinery mounted to the underside while the swordsman lounged carelessly, his eyes scanning the feeds. Mac realizes that he was installing surveillance cameras throughout the warehouse, and now the team has eyes on both the interior and exterior of the building. Tristan straightens at their approach, a broad smile on his face.

"Ah, lunch at last!"

12:25:16 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac carried over the bags of sandwiches, chips and various beverages setting them down a suitable distance from the electronics and yet within view of the monitors. She forced herself to compartmentalize everything she was feeling for the time being and screwed on a slight smile as she handed over the pastrami sandwich to Drift and Tristan dove right into the assortment of chips.

“Hey Drift.”

She grabbed a bottle of water and her sandwich, skipping the chips to leave more for Tristan and moved herself out of the way so she could pick at the insides of her sandwich, her appetite long gone.

Mac glanced up on occasion to catch Kovacs looking at her. She could practically feel the internal struggle where he was concerned yet wanted to give her the space she needed to deal with all that was changing in her life. For that she was grateful that he was letting her deal with it on her own terms and in her own way, besides she wasn’t exactly the type to dump her emotional baggage on people anyway. She pulled herself out of her headspace just about the time Suda had sauntered up to the rest of the team.

12:49:04 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

"Hey! How's it going?" Drift flashed a toothy smile at Mac before biting into his sandwich. Tristan was already halfway through his, a bag of corn chips open on his lap. He used one as a pointer to gesture towards one of the viewscreens. Drift mumbled something through a full mouth, then poked at one of the system boxes with thick fingers. Mac wasn't quite sure what the adjustment was, but apparently it satisfied Tristan, who nodded happily. Neither one of the men paid any attention to Suda's approach, the cat shaman picking over the selection of food with a slight moue of distaste. She finally settled on half of the sandwich Mac had picked for her. Glancing up, she caught Mac's eyes on her, and offered a friendly smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"How long?" asked Kovacs, before either woman could say anything.

"At least six hours," replied Suda, carefully unwrapping her meal and taking a dainty bite. "Thank you for lunch."

The tall samurai nodded. "I need to go see Zeyda and Tristan and Mac are going to see Demetria. Do you need anything?"

She tilted her head to the side, running down a mental inventory. "Nope, think I have everything I need. We could use a cappuccino machine, though."

Kovacs ignored her, turning to Mac. "I'm taking the truck, you and Tristan can use Drift's wheels. Don't let him eat all those chips. I'll be back in an hour."

12:56:23 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Mac nodded as Kovacs went over the game plan. She quickly set down her sandwich and headed over to the passenger side of the truck to pull her bag from the bench seat and hoisted it over her shoulder as Kovacs climbed into the driver's side.

"I know it's a given but watch your back and come back safe. Ok?" A rueful smile touched her lips as she closed the door and watched him back the truck out of the warehouse once again.

Mac rejoined the rest of the team and shook her head at Tristan who was well into his third bag of chips, the carcasses of the other bags strewn on the floor at his feet.

"Let me go drop this and whenever you're ready to head out to see Demetria I'm game."

She shifted the weight of the bag on her shoulder and started back towards the cots to drop the things from her apartment with what little she had from Kovacs' and cast a look back over her shoulder at Suda who was still picking at the sandwich Mac had chosen for her.

"If turkey and veggies on wheat is more your style, you're welcome to the other half of mine. I can't finish it anyway."

She shrugged and went to drop her gear, they didn't have to be new best friends and she sure as hell didn't trust the shaman, but she could at least be genuinely cordial towards her until she gave her a reason not to be.

13:04:38 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Suda chuckles. "Most kind, my dear, but not required. This will suit me fine." She headed back across the warehouse floor to where Mac saw her working earlier. Mac watched her for a moment, then turned back to the cot she'd chosen as hers, consolidating and repacking her bags to make better use of the space.

The rustle of chips interrupted her after a few minutes, though, and she looked up to see Tristan munching away.

"I got the keys from Drift, you ready?"

She shook her head. "Yes, but if you're going to keep eating, at least let me drive."

He shrugged. "If you insist."

Mac grinned gleefully, snatching the keys from his hand and bounding towards the sports car. Drift glanced over at her from where he sat at the monitoring station.

"Watch yourself. The suspension is aggressive and the engine is race-tuned. Keep a tight rein on her."

"I'll be home by midnight, dad," replied Mac, sliding into the bucket seat and strapping on the five point harness. Drift shook his head. The Shadow's engine snarled to life with a bone-rattling rumble, the instrument cluster glowing ready. Mac adjusted the mirrors, then worked the clutch. Indicators snapped to life on the console as she overrode the system's electronic controls. It took her a moment to find the shifter, though, as she'd never driven a vehicle with paddle shifters on the steering wheel. Backing slowly, she cranked the wheel over and peeled out of the open door.

13:11:17 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

The rush of being behind the wheel of the sports car was just the kind of therapy Mac needed at that very moment, a gleeful smile on her face as she got comfortable with the power of the car on the roads. She kept her attention on the streets in front of her as she worked their way out of the warehouse complex and back onto the main roads.

“So are you going to tell me where we’re going, and what’s the deal with Demetria? Or do I just get to drive around and enjoy the hell out of this car for a while?”

She turned her smile and charm towards Tristan as he finished up the chips.

“If you get chips all over Drift’s car, you’re detailing it. Not me.”

13:21:42 Friday, 12 January 2063 - northbound I5, Tacoma into Downtown, Seattle

Tristan chuckled. "Don't get your panties in a twist. In the grand scheme of things, some crumbs are the least thing that I could leave behind in Drift's ride. But I'll clean up after myself."

Leaning over, he swiped his hand over the center console. The vehicle's onboard computer recognized the RFID circuitry in the gloves he wore, and associated their input with its system. A holographic interface sprang to life, gleaming pastel in the dim interior of the sports car. Tristan twisted his fingers, manipulating the navigation screen with practiced ease. An icon glowed to life, highlighted in amber. He flicked it towards Mac, and the car's heads-up display morphed as it digested the requested destination and plotted a route.

Mac smiled. She'd been tracking sedately along in the number three lane, waiting for direction and wanting to be positioned in case she needed to make an exit from the freeway. Seeing that their destination lay in Bellevue, she changed lanes, tapping the paddle shifter to drop back into third for more power before feeling the engine top out and shifting back up into fourth. The Shadow's turbine responded with a throaty howl, a low, aggressive thunder that almost seduced her into letting the gas pedal sink to the floor. Luckily, she reined herself back in before the speedometer crested 180 KPH.

"I may have to get it detailed," observed Tristan drily, "but you're paying for the ticket."

13:49:27 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Cathedral Bookshop and Coffeehouse, 610 132nd Ave NE, Bellevue, Seattle

It wasn't an actual cathedral, of course, but the three story building wasn't something that Mac would have pegged as a bookstore and coffee shop. Another chance for coffee, though, was all good in her book. She parked the Shadow at the corner of the lot and followed Tristan through the front door. The equally intoxicating aromas of rich dark roast and old paper enveloped them as completely as the shadows of the interior. Dim incandescent floor lamps spaced unevenly amongst the floor to ceiling bookshelves were the only illumination. Somehow the bright light of midday barely penetrated the shop. She followed Tristan through a narrow twisting path that led back to the coffee bar, where they both ordered tall steaming mugs of the house blend.

Then it was up the wide winding staircase to the second floor, and to the far side of the atrium which overlooked the busy stacks and tables of the ground floor. Tristan tilted his head, and Mac followed him as he dropped into an overstuffed arm chair across a small table from a pale, delicate looking woman.

The few shafts of sunlight which penetrated the perpetual gloom of the Cathedral struck plum highlights from her long black hair. Her eyes were delicately shaded in the same mix of black and purple, and Mac caught a glimpse of a small tattoo on her left cheek, a dragon twined around an Egyptian ankh. She wore a full length dress with a fitted bodice which showed off the slim curves of her body, adorned with eight sets of ornate silver chains. Tristan propped his feet on the table, slouching in the chair and sipping from his coffee mug. Mac rested lightly on the arm of another chair across the aisle from the two. The woman casually turned the page of the book she was reading, waiting a minute before glancing up to meet Tristan's gaze.

"Come here often?" he said, flashing his brilliant smile.

The woman glanced back to her book. "Tristan Mcallister, you were born trouble and I've come to regret the moment of weakness in which I gave you my phone number."

Tristan's smile turned saucy. "That isn't what you said later that night."

Mac thought she saw a delicate blush stain the woman's cheeks, her chest fluttering beneath the tight bodice of her dress. She speared Tristan with a wintry glare that faded into affection. "And I see your manners haven't improved any."

The swordsman chuckled quietly. "It's good to see you again, Demetria. This is Mac, the newest addition to our band of stalwart heroes."

13:53:11 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Cathedral Bookshop and Coffeehouse, 610 132nd Ave NE, Bellevue, Seattle

Mac smiled at the woman, rather enjoying the more than casual flirtation between the pair that had Mac’s head spinning off into a less-than-pure direction, positive Tristan would be more than fun in bed. She shook her head as much to clear the thoughts as to the introduction.

“Not so certain about the heroes part, but new addition is true enough.” She inclined her head slightly to the plum-haired woman. “Pleasure to meet you Demetria.”

Mac wrapped both her small hands around the mug of coffee, enjoying the warmth radiating through her fingers almost as much as the coffee itself. She took a long sip, her eyes moving from Demetria to Tristan before scanning the rest of their immediate surroundings. She had no idea why they were here, so she waited on Tristan to either keep flirting or get down to business.

14:04:39 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Cathedral Bookshop and Coffeehouse, 610 132nd Ave NE, Bellevue, Seattle

"Pleased to meet you as well," replied Demetria, tilting her head, her eyes appraising Mac with an interested gaze. After a moment, she turned back to Tristan.

"I'm going to assume that you haven't made the trip all the way out to my small corner of the sprawl just for a stroll down memory lane."

The swordsman shook his head, sliding a file off his network to hers with casual grace. "Actually, yes, but I do need some things so it seemed like an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone."

Demetria opened the file by spreading her fingers, the information appearing in an AR display only she could view. "Flattery will get you nowhere, mister," she murmured as she examined the contents, sparing another wintery glance at Tristan, who winked in response. Turning back to the file, Mac saw one delicately sculpted eyebrow arch.

"Going to war?"

"You know Kovacs. He doesn't like to do things halfway."

"So it would seem," replied the raven haired fixer, all trace of warmth gone from her face. "I've heard some rumors lately of things going on in the shadows, big movements, forces positioning themselves, lots of indicators that something big is going to go down soon. This related?"

Tristan shook his head. "Maybe, but I don't think so. Kovacs is working a job for a guy named deMedici, no specifics yet, but it was a blackmail pressure setup. He's planning on burning the whole thing to the ground."

Demetria nodded. "I have to poll my supply chain for pricing, it'll take about six hours. How soon do you need the ordnance?"

"Forty eight hours," replied Tristan, "and we're prepared to pay in order to meet the deadline."

The fixer nodded, making annotations to her files. "I'll call you as soon as I have the information."

"Thanks." Tristan left his coffee cup on the table, standing to depart. Mac stood as well, taking a couple of steps before realizing that he wasn't following her. Turning back, she was in time to catch him locked in a passionate kiss with Demetria, the slim fixer's hand cradling the swordsman's face. Breaking the kiss, she pressed her cheek to his and Mac thought she whispered "come back to me."

14:09:02 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Cathedral Bookshop and Coffeehouse, 610 132nd Ave NE, Bellevue, Seattle

Mac took a few steps further away and turned her back to the pair, feeling like she was intruding on their moment. Biding her time while she waited for Tristan to join her, her fingers danced over the old books on the shelf beside her, enjoying the tactile sensation of the old paper and bindings. She snapped out of her moment of enjoyment when she felt Tristan come up behind her, his moment with Demetria over.

"We good to go?"

Mac fished out the keys to the Shadow from her pocket and dangled them in front of the swordsman.

"You're turn to drive, I don't want to risk that ticket on the way back."

She smiled softly as she let go of the keys into his hand.

14:10:19 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Cathedral Bookshop and Coffeehouse, 610 132nd Ave NE, Bellevue, Seattle

"Guess it's a good thing I finished my chips," shrugged Tristan accepting the keys. Together they descended the stairs and threaded their way through the maze of bookshelves to the exit, stepping out into the chill afternoon air.

Tristan fires up the Shadow, but lets it warm up in idle for a moment, rubbing his hands together. An incoming message shivers on both their commlinks.

Meeting tonight with de Medici @ 1800. Be ready to go by 1700. -K

"As good a time as any," muttered Tristan. He threw the car into gear and accelerated out of the parking lot. "Any stops you need to make before we head back to the warehouse?"

14:14:52 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Cathedral Bookshop and Coffeehouse, 610 132nd Ave NE, Bellevue, Seattle

Mac chewed her lip as she read the message from Kovacs, not looking forward to seeing de Medici in the flesh so soon after their run-in in the alley the other night. He made her skin crawl and she shivered visibly in the front seat.

"Depends, are we hardwired for matrix connections at the warehouse? If not, I just need to stop at a cafe somewhere and meet a friend to try to dig some dirt from the corporate side in about..." She glanced at the time and when she promised to meet up with Frankie, "45 or so."

She closed her eyes for a second and instantly was back in the alley, remembering the gangers, the bodyguards, the man himself. She paled slightly at the thoughts, once again feeling like more of a liability than an asset to the team. She opened her eyes again and fought the urge to light up a cigarette, opting for another piece of gum instead.

"Other than that, I've got nowhere else to go. You?" She offered Tristan her last piece of gum as the heat from car washed over her, offsetting a little of the chill that gripped her deep inside.

14:20:08 Friday, 12 January 2063 - Westbound HWY 520 headed into Downtown, Seattle

Tristan shook his head. "No hardwired access, but Drift has his dish setup so you'll be secure if you need to dive in. If you'd rather someplace else, though, there's a place I know that will guarantee security and anonymity."

14:22:39 Friday, 12 January 2063 - Westbound HWY 520 headed into Downtown, Seattle

"Anonymity would be appreciated. Less connections to this and drek I bring to their door if things go sideways the better."

She settled into the scoop of the passenger seat and hoped Frankie either had something or someone they could act on at Yamatetsu, or that she'd be able to help Mac lay out her contingency plans if everything went to drek.

"That is of course, if going there won't step all over any of your plans."

14:23:41 Friday, 12 January 2063 - Westbound HWY 520 headed into Downtown, Seattle

"Nope, my errands are complete!" Tristan put his signal on and careened across four lanes of traffic to take the merge ramp to the I405 southbound. Mac grunted as the acceleration was enough to trip the harness, its webbing yanking her back into the seat. Tristan let them coast through sixty degrees of the turn before accelerating out of it, merging onto the 405 at speed. Just a few more minutes down the road and he was equally aggressive in switching to 90 east. This time he didn't hold the Shadow back, the turbine howling as he wove through traffic with gleeful aggressiveness. Mac was about to voice a warning before she realized the section of highway they were on threaded between Redmond and Renton, an unlikely place for a Lone Star cruiser to be hanging out waiting to catch speeders.

In any case, Tristan slowed to a more sedate speed, taking the NE 166th off ramp before turning towards Redmond. They don't make it very far into the district, though, pulling off into the parking lot next to an abandoned Stuffer Shack on Recott Lane. Tristan killed the engine, scanning the area carefully before stepping out of the vehicle. Mac followed suit, trying to remember what Kovacs had taught her about surveillance and ambushes. Together they walked down the alleyway behind the Stuffer Shack, approaching a steel firedoor lit by a thin strip of overhead LEDs.

Tristan knocked, the dull thud attesting to the solidness of the panel. After several seconds, a viewslit opened, the observer within obscured by heavy shadows. Tristan holds up a battered business card. The viewslit closes, but the door opens immediately afterwards, revealing a shadowed hallway. The tall swordsman steps inside, followed by Mac who catches a glimpse of the massive bulk of the doorman. In the dimness she can just make out a fantastical set of dull chrome body modifications, an urban tribal warrior wearing the scars of his rite of passage with pride.

At the end of the hall is a room, barely twice as wide as the hallway but also twice as long. Folding plastic dividers section off the room into narrow cubicles, each one featuring a plain plastic chair and a standard dataport. Tristan moved down the line until he found one that was empty as well as mostly clean, gesturing for Mac to sit.

15:03:09 Friday, 12 January 2063 - Recott Lane Redmond, Seattle

Mac nodded and slid into the offered chair, sliding her commlink from her pocket and cabling one end to the dataport. She paused and looked back at Tristan who lounged casually against one of the partitions.

"I'll try to keep it short and sweet."

She grabbed the other cable and brushed her hair away from the side of her neck and jacked in. Macfelt the floor drop out from underneath her with dizzying speed as she shifted to the view of her interface. Seconds ticked by before she oriented herself and was speeding off to a out-of-the-way node that few people knew existed.

As she slowed upon her approach, her typical leather-clad skin instantly shifted to match the theme of the node the moment she crossed its boundary.

Micky Malone's was sculpted to look like a speakeasy from the 1920's. While hardly as robust or detailed as Palatine, the node was sculpted by someone with talent. Over the years it had become the private matrix hangout for a select group of hackers, matrix architects, geeks and whores. The working girls were only here because it was one of Frankie's clients who designed the place.

Mac passcode allowed her to pass through the door, and into the permanently smoky club. Frankie was hard to miss, decked out as a gun moll, holding court with a few admirers near the bar. She looked up the moment Mac walked in and untangled herself from the group to come sit with her in a small alcove booth and immediately laid into Mac.

"Girl, you realize Holly Anne was beside herself until she got your note?! What the hell happened?! Wayne made it sound like something really bad had happened, and then when they came to clean out your room..."

Mac let her rant and rave to get it out of her system. Frankie was always the excitable one of their tight-knit group. Once it was out of her system, they could get down to the true nature of her visit which was hardly a lecture on being a good friend.

"Frankie, it's a long and messed up story and I will gladly fill you and Holly Anne in one day soon, but I don't have a whole lot of time right this second."

The grim look on Mac's face said it all and Frankie got serious across the table from her.

"Are you in trouble?"

"Something like that. Someone is making my life difficult at the moment, and threatening to make it worse. I'm just looking at a way to get back at him through his work, which is why I was asking if anyone knew any specific clients at Yamatetsu."

Mac hesitated as she realized she probably didn't have the time to really flesh out an elaborate plan that would net her the people she'd need to do any damage against de Medici from within. She shifted gears, and fidgeted a bit before she asked for the thing she really needed, a way out if things went horribly wrong.

"Even more important though, if things get really bad, you know anyone who might be able to help get me out of the city clean? You know, fresh start, untraceable?"

15:11:32 Friday, 12 January 2063 - Recott Lane Redmond, Seattle

"Well, I got a couple of hits from the girls on Yamatetsu johns. One's a CorpSec lieutenant and the other's a project manager. Here's the contact info, but they're both burner links so I don't know how quickly you'll be able to get a hold of them."

Frankie flipped the LTG numbers over to Mac, who glanced at the file to make sure she had them before nodding. Using a prepaid commlink was common among Johns, and setting them to refuse incoming calls was a standard security measure. In the realm where all information was useful, she guessed that given enough time she could set something up using them.

Mac looked back up in time to see Frankie chewing on her virtual nails.

"What is it?"

"Look, I don't want to give you this, but if you're in deep drek and need out and clean, I know a guy who can make it happen for a price."

"What price?" asked Mac guardedly.

"You gotta work in his stable," replied Frankie quietly. "He can get you out of the city clean, set you up someplace else, but it'll be someplace doing his business for him."

15:16:55 Friday, 12 January 2063 - Recott Lane Redmond, Seattle

Mac's face remained impassive as her stomach turned. An exorbitant financial cost she'd have figured out a way to shoulder it, but going back to working for someone and being under their thumb again was almost a deal breaker. Almost. Mac nodded her reluctant and silent acceptance.

"How far can he get me, and what is he into? Straight work, or is it deeper kink and twisted?"

Her voice was flat, but her concern was genuine. The reality was she might not have time to find another way out and as long as she didn't end up in a bunraku parlor she'd find a way on her own again.

"Frankie, I appreciate the concern and the fact that you don't want to give me the number, but if I wasn't in a bind and nearly desperate, I wouldn't be asking. You know I'm strong, girl I'll be ok."

She smiled weakly across the booth.

"Besides, it's only as a last resort."

15:19:11 Friday, 12 January 2063 - Recott Lane Redmond, Seattle

Frankie nods. "I know, I know. I just don't want to see you jumping from the frying pan into the fire. His name is Aleksei, he's a Vory pimp. He can get you out. Out out. All the way to New Orleans or Vladivostok if you want. He's straight up old-school, nothing special, nothing weird. But he has good connections. He works for Mikhail, Seattle's Vory tsar."

15:23:37 Friday, 12 January 2063 - Recott Lane Redmond, Seattle

If you only knew just how far into the fire I already was girl...

Mac couldn’t stop herself from frowning slightly over the mention of the Vory. Getting involved with the Russians was a double-edged sword of sorts. The good side was they were legit, and she could take Frankie’s word that they’d be able to get her good and gone if necessary. The bad side however was that they were all business and while it might be a straight up “normal” version of her profession, it could make getting out of the deal eventually just as ugly as the mess she was in now.

She nodded her acceptance to the situation, deciding that remaining alive and going back to work for the Vory far outweighed the other possibilities.

“I don’t know if it will even come to needing the number, but having it will be a nice security blanket for the time being. I owe you one… or a million, Frankie. Let me grab Aleksei’s info now, because if it hits the fan I don’t know that I’ll have time to come back here to get it. I’ll do my best to reach out to you and Holly through here, even if it’s just to let you know I’m still on my feet.”

She waited until she confirmed that she had the Vory pimp’s information stored in her commlink before she stood and slid her way out of the booth. She guessed Tristan was bored babysitting her while she was online and knew they had to get back to get ready for the meet. She took a look at the woman who was one of the closest things she had to a friend in this world and tried not to let another goodbye overwhelm her.

“Look, I’ve gotta go. Thanks Frankie. Really, truly I mean that.”

She didn’t waste time and turned on a heel to exit the host, spending a moment inside her commlink to file away the information she got into separate, secure spaces before she shut it all down and yanked the cable from the side of her head. Jacking out quickly always made her a little disoriented, so she took a few deep breaths before she opened her eyes and turned to look for Tristan.

15:25:08 Friday, 12 January 2063 - Recott Lane Redmond, Seattle

Mac found Tristan lounging in the same location she'd left him, just behind her cubicle. His eyes and his presence serving to keep her clear from any of the other users loitering around the illegal jackpoint. Not that the risk was high, just about everyone else was recumbent, eyes vacant as their consciousnesses roamed the electronic ether. She watched as he upended a bag of soypuffs, shaking the last few crumbs into his mouth, and wondered where he'd managed to find the snacks. The Stuffer Shack showed signs of being abandoned for years, there couldn't have been anything left there.

"Ready?" he asked, derailing her thought process. She nodded, double checking to make sure she had all of her gear before following him down the dim hallway and out into the icy air of the sprawl.

15:57:32 Friday, 12 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

The headlights of the Shadow sweep across the assembled team as Tristan skidded through the open door of the warehouse, the echoing snarl of the engine fading slowly as he powered down. No one remarked on the aggressive entrance, although Drift did shoot the swordsman a disapproving glance. Tristan handed him the key fob with a shrug that said you knew what would happen when you let me drive it.

Kovacs still wore his cold mask of professional indifference, but she caught the subtle motion of his hand in her direction, and she nodded briefly. He turned back towards Drift.

"All right, now that we're all here, let's run through it."

The ork nodded, sweeping his hand through the air and erecting a shared virtual workspace amongst them. The streets of downtown Seattle spread out before them, outlined in pale green. Data tags spangled the image, quickly overwhelming Mac until she worked her filters down to just what she thought was necessary. Desperately she wished she had a chance to talk to Kovacs before this, uncertain now if it was appropriate to PM him with a file request.

Frag it. She pitched it to him. A second later she had a copy of his filter file, importing it. Information populated her vision.

"The meet is set to take place at the Southern Star, the tiki bar at the Gates Undersound Hotel and Casino." As Drift spoke, the map irised down to an overhead view of the location plus a kilometer in every direction. A triple elevation of the building in skeletal outline popped up as well.

"A good choice based on security and surveillance needs for our Johnson, a difficult choice for us for the same reasons. If this is a legitimate job offer and not an assassination, casino security works in our favor. If it is an assassination, we will be unable to employ any heavy weaponry inside the hotel and at risk outside since it is located in a Lone Star Class A neighborhood. Recommended deployment plan is as follows: Tristan, Suda you'll be on site first at H minus sixty. No firearms, ceramic blades only. Suda, will you be able to slip past inspection by astral security?"

"Based on my initial recon, yes." There was none of the usual urbane playfulness in the shaman's voice now. The view had irised down to a layout of the ground floor of the hotel, with structural walls in gray and interior gaming spaces in orange. Generic icons spangled the map, moving as predicted by whatever pedestrian model Drift was running. Friendly icons were a brilliant blue, strobing whenever spoken about. Neutral security was a yellow, checkpoints and scanners in translucent while guards were crosshatched.

"We have no bump plan if Suda is refused entry or detained. Our contact team will be operating without full astral support. At H minus twenty, Kovacs, Mac, you'll make your entry from the parking garage to be at the bar at H minus fifteen. No firearms, ceramic blades only, with Centipede Alpha."

"Roger," said Kovacs. Mac got the impression that he and Drift had already discussed the team's force laydown. She echoed her mentor, watching as the electronic tag representing her moved through the virtual construct.

"I'll keep the Roadmaster mobile in a two block tether, immersive matrix support, back-up and suppressive fire on request. Any questions?"