Virtual Shade!

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The hacker threw up a quick ward program - a wave of the hand, a word of power, and it surrounded him like a cloak of steel. It could buy another second, but not an iota more. The... He needed to take a deep breath. The... Ghost had resolutely turned the tables on him, and this had gone from a simple eviction into a battle for survival.

He looked down at his avatar, the cartoonish simulacrum of a man wearing a dark trenchcoat and full-faced motorcycle helmet. His digital form was visibly frayed and damaged; whole chunks of it were torn out. The hacker swore under his breath. He was badly wounded, and once his ward was down... He shook his head. He knew he probably couldn't survive another attack.

He looked around and tried tried to find his bearings, staring around the grand, cyberized impression of some... Odd sort of indoor statue garden he'd found himself in. He was lost. He'd been so focused on escape he hadn't even bothered to figure out where he was heading, but... He took another pantomime of a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. That didn't matter too much. He just needed to get far enough away from the ghost that he could log off without risk of... Mental injury. Exiting a system when you're hooked up to it with a thought interface takes some time, and leaving while you're under attack runs the risk of brain damage. Or worse.

Of course - He uttered another word of power under his breath, and an attack program loaded, taking the form of a blazing ball of fire hovering just above his palm. That was the hard part. He'd tried, but the most he could do was delay it. The hacker picked up speed, heading through the statue garden, towards where he though the exit lay, running like a monster was at his back. Which, he bitterly mused, there was. He swore madly under his breath as he ran, promising himself if he ever got out of this alive, he was going to make that damn client pay. "It'll be a simple extermination run." he'd said. "No trouble for a hacker of your calibre," he'd said.

What he hadn't mentioned was just how... Strong the rogue program had been. Where on Earth the client had gotten the impression this would be a milk run, he couldn't say. Maybe he was just a liar. It was like the worst black ICE he'd ever tripped in the dark web, times a thousand. Fighting it was like trying to fight a giant. He could barely stall it, let alone destroy it, and... He took a deep, nervous breath, taking another turn, a long, straight path ahead of him, with a doorway at the end. He'd pissed it off, and now it was hunting him down like a dog.

The client also failed to mention a detail he might have wanted to know before accepting this job. The tiny little detail of the three other hackers who'd been hired to do this job before him. They all died. Their minds burned out and their bodies left as drooling husks. The ghost had told him as such. If he didn't get out of here... The hacker felt the attack program twitch and throb in his hand. He was next.

The door was so close, just ten paces. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six-

The hacker's eyes went wide underneath his helmet, and he stopped dead in his tracks. By their own volition, the doors swung open, and if he were in meatspace, he'd have gone pale and would be sweating bullets. In the doorway ahead, staring him down with cold, blue eyes that pierced his very soul, was the ghost, and she was not happy to see him in the slightest. The hacker didn't have a single clue why, and with having more important, not-dying related tasks on his mind, he didn't want to think about it, but the ghost took the form of a young girl. A teenage girl with long, flowing blonde hair, and piercing, glowing blue eyes, clothed in a long, blue dress with puffy sleeves, and holding two attack programs. One eldritch, green ball of fire in each hand, and she wore a killing, viciously angry expression on her face. She'd found him.

His mind shifted quickly into gear, raising up one arm to attack and the other to defend himself, but the ghost was faster. Before he could even start weaving a counter-program, his assailant leapt into action, flying towards him and launching two green fireballs into his avatar, the long straight, both sides blocked by statues made dodging difficult, and both of them struck home and exploded into a cloud of green flames, piercing the ward program like it wasn't even there, and the hacker screamed out in agony.

It felt like the most excruciating pain he'd ever felt. His avatar was on fire, consumed by a sickly green conflagration, and whole being was burning. The flames had struck his very soul alight and were flaying the very conduits of his brain. It felt like his very psyche was being flayed with whips of fire, and he screamed out in tortured agony and panic.

"DID YOU REALLY THINK YOU COULD ESCAPE?!" The ghost taunted him. Her voice sounded ethereal and echoed throughout the whole system, and her tone dripping with indignation and righteous anger. The hacker tried fighting back, but it was like trying to defeat a tidal wave. He threw out his attack program, the flaming missile thundering forwards it's target like a cannon shot, but with a single word of command from the ghost, it dissipated mere microseconds before impact, and the hacker's eyes went wide.

"DID YOU REALLY THINK YOU COULD COME INTO MY HOME?!"

He tried to weave a defensive program into activation to protect himself, but the ghost refused to let up the assault even a tiny bit, springing forwards, a word of power on her lips, reaching back with her right arm, and bringing it forwards with a karate chop as it metamorphosed in the air, the program shifting and melding like hot wax, turning from an ordinary human limb into a gigantic sword blade, the edge catching the ominous purple glow, and the green blaze off his conflagrating avatar.

"AND TRY TO KILL ME?!"

As readily as a hot cyberknife carving through digitized butter, the ghost brought the sword down just as the hacker made the gesture of activation, cleaving his arm clean off and dispelling the program right as it was being formed, the errant limb falling to the ground and disappearing into a pile of code, and the hacker screamed out in terror and pain, clutching the shoulder where his digital arm once was. Not only was he still on fire, but the pain of losing a part of his avatar felt like his mind was being crushed with a hydraulic press. And being burnt alive.

"AND GET AWAY WITH IT?!"

The hacker made one final attempt to defend himself, holding his arm out, his last words of power on his lips, trying to weave a program of protection. Or a teleportation function, or a summoning routine to create a bit of code to fight for him. Anything to give him a few more seconds with which to flee, but it was all for naught. With her massive sword arm, the ghost charged forwards and plunged the massive, weapon directly through the torso of her assailant's avatar, and the hacker locked up. His three remaining limbs began to seize up, and errant bits of code began to fall off his digital form, taking the form of ones and zeroes that hung in the air like Scotch mist, as his avatar began to distort and flicker, his screams distorting and taking on and taking on chaotic variations in tone and pitch as his psyche died.

The benefits of a thought interface were that you could act and react at the speed of information, and weave the systems of a computer with but a thought. The downside was you were directly exposing your brain to the computer system. Most net programs couldn't damage the Avatar - the computerized imprint of a human mind rendered in cyberspace. The hacker had fallen afoul of one of those that could. Far from being a representation of the user, the avatar, effectively, IS the user. It is their mental imprint in cyberspace. It is their mind, and if a net user's mind was destroyed...

The ghost just lifted up her sword-arm, lifting the rapidly erasing avatar of her would-be exorcist above her, piercing his helmet with her glare. With a cold, vindictively angry expression of retribution on her face, she said, "I know you're watching. You keep sending these hackers." She let a long pause hang in the air for emphasis. "Give up." She said. "This system is mine. The data is mine. The patents are mine. The whole company is mine. I will not let you have it. Especially not like this."

The hacker's avatar finally disintegrated, leaving only a few errant ones and zeroes that rapidly faded, the raw code being absorbed into the system as the last bits of his mind finally died. Whoever he was, his body in meatspace would be reduced to an empty, drooling shell. His heart would still beat, his lungs would still draw breath, but to call him 'alive' would be too generous. Whoever he was, he wasn't there anymore.

...

Back in the real world, a hand finally severed the connection, clicking on an old mouse and closing a graphical user interface window that was just showing static. A figure shrouded in darkness just shook it's head in disappointment. This was fast degenerating into farce. Four hackers. Four hackers, each of whom had asserted that they were experts, had gone into that server and she'd torn through all of them like rookie netbattlers. The figure took a deep breath. Obviously, this current track was getting them nowhere, but what could be done? Clearly, the random mercenary hackers hired from the internet weren't up to snuff. It really IS so hard to find good help these days...

An eyebrow raised in the darkness. 'But, strictly speaking, do I HAVE to use more mercenaries?' went the figure's line of thought. Obviously, freelancers were a lot more... Discerning, and understanding of the need to keep things under wraps, and wouldn't ask those awkward questions, but...

A hand reached across a dimly lit desk, grasping for a rolodex and thumbing through it, holocards glowing in the gloom, for all sorts of companies the figure had dealt with over the years. Mostly other computer and electronics companies, but there were a few new faces - defence contractors, robotics manufacturers, and cybernetic enhancement firms. Really, a corporate hacker would probably be a lot more... Competent in dealing with the company's little... Ghost problem.

"Oh, don't look so glum, Serena." Lisa said, as Serena took a drag off her cigarette, a sour look on her face. "Don't be such a..." The red-headed girl cracked a somewhat teasing, wry smile. "Humbug!"

"I mean..." Serena just groaned, and let the cigarette hang from her mouth. "I'll be honest, I probably wouldn't be here if I didn't have to." She said, which was a lie... Partially. After a recent... Well, brush with death, Serena was making an effort to be more outgoing and positive, and... She took a deep breath. In this case that meant taking her lumps and not trying to find a way to wriggle out of the Bathrette annual company Christmas party, even thought she knew - and had been correct in her assumption - she probably wouldn't enjoy herself. There was a sour and tired look in her vibrant, blood-red eyes as she scanned the room, watching her security department colleagues all talking with themselves around the huge banqueting table, and she just blew out a cloud of smoke. Lisa was probably right, she mused, a small laugh escaping her lips. She should try to cheer up; it was Christmas time, wasn't it?

Bathrette Beautronics, the massive and ever-so-slightly shady cosmetics and cybernetics conglomerate she worked for had rented out an entire wing of the luxurious Winter Palace hotel for what they were calling the "Wintertide Ball." but, no kidding, Christmas had come to St. Petersburg. A week early. There was food, games, dancing, raffles and contests, company team-building exercises, gift exchanges, chances to schmooze within the company, and, of course, the opportunity to get your photograph with Kris Kringle himself. Of course, given the median age of the attendees was thirty-four, it stopped shy of sitting on his lap and asking for presents.

The whole wing of the hotel was richly decorated for the occasion, with a plethora of reds, whites, and greens, giant streamers, Christmas trees, jolly snowmen (and snow-women, as Bathrette is a company at which the glass ceiling is, in places, the opposite of what you'd think.) snowflakes, presents with beautifully wrapped bows, decorative cookies and puddings, and all punctuated by a selection of sugary, Christmas themed tunes playing over the public address speakers that bordered on the unbearable. The current one was all about how some ridiculously sweet woman wanted the listener as her present this year, and it was seriously testing Serena's patience, as she'd already heard it twelve dozen times while grocery shopping over the last month.

Well... Serena just blew another cloud of smoke out into the jolly atmosphere, barely able to hear herself think over the sound of merriment and raucous chatter and the awful music. Still, she was really trying her hardest to find a silver lining, here. "At least they're letting me smoke." She mused.

At that, Serena's red-haired colleague turned away and rolled her eyes, while she took a drag off the black-papered cigarette. (a Nightstick. Serena's preferred brand.) Really, though, she wouldn't even be here if it wasn't expected of her, and... She sighed. If she hadn't basically walked into it and knew for a fact if she wriggled out of it she'd get no end of grief from her friends, who, meaning the best, also knew she wanted to be more social and would definitely tease her for skipping.

There was also a dress code at this get-together, and that meant Serena couldn't exactly get away with her usual habits of displaying all the feminine fashion sense of a paving slab. She'd gone all out, and it had seemed like a good idea at the time. She'd gone out to a lovely department store on Broad Way and bought a black, floor-length cocktail dress with a fancy little caplet-thing that wrapped her upper arms while leaving her shoulders appealingly bare. A pair of matching black dress shoes and, underneath the skirt, black stockings. It was a bit of a gloomy outfit, thinking about it. It, to her opinion, clashed a bit with her short, slightly shaggy, almost boyish-looking black hairdo; a pixie cut she'd gotten just over two years ago that she'd allowed to grow out a bit, but it did go with her blood-red eyes. Overall, it was making her want a drink, in a few different ways.

She turned over and got a brief look at colleague from the same division, and a different department. Lisa, who was currently having a quick drink of water, and a tiny flash of resentment flushed through her psyche. She had to admit, she was a tiny bit jealous the way Lisa seemed to just effortlessly... 'belong' to an event like this. She was wearing a cocktail dress too - a pinkish red one, with spaghetti straps holding it up and framing her shoulders, matched by her vibrant, curly, bubblegum-red hair. Her hazel-green eyes were complemented a pair of coquettish, rounded glasses, framing a plain, but admittedly pleasant looking face. She had a demeanour that reminded Serena of an old childhood friend, even though they only met about two years ago, back when they were both in Cyber-Security, and had only really started actually associating with eachother about a month and a half ago...

Serena's throat felt tense, and she reflexively reached for it as the memory involuntarily came over her. She'd had a 'medical emergency' and was out of action for a while. By the time she clocked back into work, she'd been promoted and re-shuffled to the Special Asset Protection Squad - the company's elite commando division. Lisa, meanwhile, had accepted a position with Information Retrieval - the company's spy division, which had, apparently, been a better use of her... Talents.

Their first real assignment together was... Serena found herself laughing uncomfortably at the memory, and feeling a bit cold. Well, there's nothing quite like facing down a fate worse than death to make you really bond with someone, she mused. After that, she and Lisa had became pretty good friends: Serena actually enjoyed talking with her, and found the prospect of hanging out with her after work to be something she would, voluntarily, agree to do. She just leaned back in her chair, and sighed. Well, under less forceful circumstances-

"Enjoying yourselves?"

A new voice piped up from behind Serena, and it made her flinch, goosebumps briefly flaring up across her exposed forearms and nearly choking on her cigarette. She quickly turned in her seat, looking over her shoulder, and standing right behind her, in the foreground of the snow and neon-covered cityscape beyond the plate-glass windows, was a middle-manager she'd come to be rather uncomfortably familiar with over the last few weeks.

"Oh, it's been lots of fun!" Lisa replied with a cheery smile, and genuinely sounded like she meant it.

"Yeah..." Serena rather flatly responded, and she could feel Lisa giving her a slightly funny look. Even after she... Only sort of explained things, Lisa didn't really understand what Serena found so apprehensive about Vincent Van Steyr. Of course, she wasn't the one who'd been told that she would be immediately put to the sword if her secret came out of the bag, as coldly and impersonally as if he were asking her to sign a waiver.

On the surface, he was just your regular middle-manager, of the sort who your eyes kind of glaze over. For tonight's festivities, Mr. Van Steyr had swapped out his usual shabbily tailored suit for a shabbily tailored tuxedo, and wore a very neat, professional-looking head of dark brown hair on his head and a perpetual look of disinterest on his face. However, at least to Serena's eye, he had a hawkish, sharp killer's expression in his icy blue eyes. He always looked like he was evaluating the right time to go for the throat, and talking with him for any length of time always made her a bit uneasy.

"Is something wrong?" Serena rather herself brainlessly saying, and had to fight the urge to flinch. Although she did allow herself the luxury of a confused look on her face when he just shook his head.

"Nothing's wrong, Serena." He responded. It was a bit odd to think of, the fact that they were on a first-name basis, but, she supposed, considering the circumstances of their acquaintance, it made sense. "I really did just want to make sure you two were enjoying yourselves." Vincent continued, and Lisa - very briefly - found a small grin coming onto her face, and Serena just took a deep breath. Was the THAT easy to read?

"Can I be honest?"

"I'd like to think that honesty is the foundation of a successful manager-employee relationship." The boss responded - and he wasn't even her actual boss. That distinction belonged to the rather hot-headed Commander Sikorski. Mr. Van Steyr's domain was technically Special Projects - The R&D Department's black project shop - but he occasionally popped in and acted like her boss. Mostly to keep an eye on her. Partially because he could. Serena just took a deep breath. Did he really have to phrase that in the most corporate way possible?

"I only bothered to come because it's expected of me." She admitted, and wondered exactly how much trouble she'd get into for saying that.

Surprisingly, though, Vincent only gave her a disappointed expression, like a father addressing his unruly daughter who just voiced her intentions to go out with that troublemaker boy from pre-calculus he told her to not associate with. He wasn't mad, just disappointed. "That's not exactly merry of you, Serena."

"I'm sorry," Serena just sighed, and took another drag off her cigarette. "I'm killing the Christmas spirit, aren't I?"

"Wintertide." Vincent quickly corrected her.

"I'm not even that religious." She irritably shot back. "It doesn't even matter anyways; you don't need to get PC with me."

"Well, it's the problem of equal rights and freedom of religion," Vincent responded, in his usual somewhat disinterested, somewhat reproachful tone. "And there's the fact that we're trying to balance our company's relations with the big religious orgs; The Catholic Church especially has been wanting to build closer ties with us, but if we do there's a bunch of other groups we'd alienate, and we've got PR people working around the clock to avoid ticking anyone off, and for now being inoffensive is the best policy."

Both girls just looked a bit perplexed, and Vincent just cleared his throat and cracked a calculated smile. "But, enough of that. Lets' leave politics and office work outside for once. You've both been working very hard this year and you've probably got a lot of stress to work off, so I know, Serena, it might not be your cup of synth-tea, but..."

The two of them - and Lisa - took a brief look around the large banqueting hall. The crowds had calmed down somewhat and were now sitting down to eat, as a veritable army of wait staff were pouring in from the kitchen with trolleys of dishes, covered up with silver cloches (the technical term for those little silvery bell covers, Serena had learned on a particularly dull night surfing the matrix) glasses, bottles of... Everything, and all sorts of other odd utensils and glassware that was, to her eye, all very expensive. "Do try to enjoy yourselves."

"I'll do my best." Serena replied, not sounding too into it, as she put out her cigarette in a nearby ashtray and stuck it behind her ear for later, and the wait staff with their train of trolleys came over towards their position. Still, her 'boss' probably had a point, and it was definitely pretty hard not to be at least somewhat enthusiastic as a sharp-looking young man in a black waistcoat and bow tie came over to her with her food, and a meaty, succulent, mouthwatering aroma came into her nostrils, just reminder her that all she'd eaten today was an Advent 'bacon' sandwich and a few protein shakes. "What is this, anyways?" She asked the waiter.

"Steak Au Poivre, Miss." The waiter replied, and as he moved the cloche off, the mouthwatering, hypnotic aroma only intensified as Serena got a look at the dish infront of her, all the while trying not to drool. A juicy cut of beefsteak, cooked rare, and covered in an appealing brown concoction the waiter helpfully informed her was called "Peppercorn sauce", and was even topped with some of the coarsely cracked spice. On the side, there was a hearty serving of roast Brussels sprouts with butter, and what the waiter had called "Pommes Frites", but to Serena just looked like really posh French fries. Not that she was complaining, mind, and her eyes started to glow like a Christmas tree when the waiter had called it "The genuine article."

"Genuine?"

"Yes, Miss."

"This," Serena pointed to the steak with her knife - and she couldn't explain how it'd ended up in her hand. It was a subconscious gesture. "This is real beef?"

"Real beef, miss."

Serena looked practically elated at this point, and visibly struggled to contain her excitement "From a cow?!"

"I have it on good authority the cow is honoured to be here today, Miss." He responded, with only a token amount of sarcasm, and Serena replied by tucking in, quickly cutting a piece of steak free with her knife and popping it into her mouth, a massive smile coming onto the dark haired girl's face and a tingle crawling up her spine as the flavours practically melted onto her tongue, as Serena struggled to stay in her chair, trying her hardest not to take off like a firework from sheer force of ecstasy. Much, much later in her life, she'd reminisce about tonight and recall it was the best thing she'd ever eaten.

Vincent Van Steyr didn't go as far as laughing this time, but he did crack a very obvious, very paternal smile. "Are you enjoying yourself now, Serena?"

She didn't respond immediately; mother always drilled it into her it was rude to talk with her mouth full, and that meant it took a moment for her to finish chewing, swallowing, and having a quick drink of water before saying, "I think I am, Vincent."

"Good... I'm glad you like it." The middle-manager replied, evidently quite pleased to see such a reversal in Serena's attitude.

"Err..." Lisa took a deep breath, and both Serena and Vincent paused to catch a very awkward look on the red-haired spy's face, staring down at her untouched beefsteak. "I... Might've skimmed the information packet."

Serena raised an eyebrow. "There was an information packet?"

"Yeah." Lisa sighed. "And if I'd read it all the way through then I would have mentioned I'm a vegetarian beforehand."

Serena just froze up, a very, very confused look on her face and a piece of steak only a scant few centimetres from her mouth. "You're a vegetarian?"

"Yeah." She explained. "I don't eat meat or drink milk. I'm alright with honey, though."

It took a second for the wire to connect in Serena's brain. "But I saw you eating a pork cutlet bowl this afternoon!"

Lisa just shot her a heavy-lidded stare "And how much of a real pig went into that?"

"I guess..." Serena just needed to take a deep breath. If she had to be completely honest, then - on any other day of the year - being a vegetarian in this day and age was a moot point. She'd read it was commonplace for even the poorest families in the turn of the century to eat meat three meals a day, but with The Crash, years of war and famine and political instability, a lot of the infrastructure of raising and slaughtering animals for food was just gone. Eating meat on a regular basis was something only the ultra-rich did in this day and age. Even with her very comfortable salary, even Serena couldn't afford to eat real meat more than about... Once a week. Real steak was a 'once a month' thing. It was a luxury product, and it felt very... Odd to deliberately shirk it. "Why?"

"I don't know about you, Serena." Lisa took a deep breath, "But I think we're better than needing to kill other sentient beings for food." That just made the dark-haired commando look a bit awkward, especially since she was busy chewing on what was once a cow.

"That's just nature though, isn't it?" Serena countered, gesturing a bit with her knife, feeling a bit of her primitive ancestors' spearmanship come out. "Wolves hunt and kill deer for food. What we do is just more sophisticated."

"Well, we don't really NEED to do that anymore, do we?" Lisa leaned in, cracking a wily, self-satisfied grin. "This is the 21st century. We're above all that. Modern food is nutritionally complete and makes a pretty damn good imitation of the real thing without even needing to involve any animals."

"It's all fake, though!"

Lisa needed a second to think about that, gazing around the room to collect her thoughts, before just saying, "It's also cruelty-free." Serena just had to exhale, and laugh a bit.

"Why don't you two pick up this debate later, and just enjoy yourselves tonight?" Vincent cut in, just a tiny bit disappointed. "I'll go and see if I can get the chefs to make you something 'cruelty-free.'"

"Thanks..." Lisa responded, and as Vincent went off towards the kitchen, she got up out of her chair. "I'm gonna go to the open bar and get something to drink-"

"There's an open bar?!" Serena exclaimed, a look on her face like the best day ever just got better, to Lisa's ever so slight chagrin. Just going by the look on her face, the prospect of dealing with drunk Serena again was something she was hoping to avoid tonight.

Vincent just raised an eyebrow, pausing and turning around back towards Serena. "You didn't know?... Ah, yes, you didn't really read the invitation, did you?"

"Would you feel better if I lied about it?" Serena responded without an iota of shame. "Anyways..." She turned over to Lisa, who had an expression on her face that was erring on the side of caution. "Could you get me a drink, too?"

"A Bloody Mary, right?" The redhead replied on instinct, just making the dark-haired girl groan and shake her head.

"Do I look like a high school goth kid?" Serena bitterly responded. "Tomato juice is vile, and the Worcestershire sauce definitely doesn't help."

"Isn't that-?"

"I didn't freaking order it..." Serena rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Anyways, what I usually order at these sorts of things is..."

A Black Velvet. Lisa passed the long, slender pilsner glass over to her on the spy's triumphant return from the bar with a slightly teasing smile on her face, which Serena just shot right back with a slightly irritated, slightly cocky grin. Equal parts stout beer and champagne. Very macabre and funerary.

"It's really only a lateral move in moodiness, you know." The redhead added, and Serena just rolled her eyes as she took a sip, feeling the darkly pleasant flavour profile wash over her tongue, the rich, bitter, almost earthy dark beer predominating, with the bubbly, slightly sweet sparkling wine providing a tongue-pleasing backnote and a bit of sharpness. Really, Lisa could have that joke. This was definitely more her thing.

"Whatever. This actually tastes good." Was all Serena could really respond with. She took a quick look over towards what her colleague had returned with. A yellowy cocktail in a martini glass garnished with a wedge of lime. A Kamikaze, if she was right.

"Speak for yourself." Lisa responded, taking a sip. "I can't stand dark beer. Anyways..." Her became a bit more... Concerned, and she took a deep breath as Serena raised an eyebrow, suddenly feeling a bit awkward herself. "Serena, are you gonna get drunk again?"

"Again?"

"Yeah." The spy responded, just a tiny a bit stern. Serena looked just a tiny bit embarrassed. "Again."

"Look, I'm NOT a wino, okay?" She said, tone turning a bit defensive. "I only drink on special occasions. Besides," Serena crossed her arms, her expression a bit pouty. "I've got one vice already and it's enough for me." She said, pointing to the half-smoked cigarette behind her ear. What Serena left unspoken was she DID have a drinking problem. It wasn't the kind Lisa was thinking of, and it was something she didn't like to think about. She flicked her hair a bit, eyes drifting off to the room's periphery. No, she shouldn't be worrying about her... Condition on a night like this.

"Anyways..." Serena just took a deep breath, and took a calculatedly small drink of her black velvet, following it up with some 'pommes frites.' "I DO wanna enjoy myself; this IS my night off."

"How much?"

"You're not my mom, Lisa."

She replied with a sharp, cattish grin. "I just don't wanna have to carry you out again. No offence, Serena..." Lisa just laughed a bit. "You're tall, and you're freaking heavy."Yeah," The commando cracked a smile, and flexed a bicep for emphasis. "But it's all muscle!" That was a major upside of her new job. It demanded rigorous physical training and constant readiness, but it was also giving her a stomach you could grate cheese on. She'd been at it for only about three months now, and was already in much better shape.

"Yeah," The commando cracked a smile, and flexed a bicep for emphasis. "But it's all muscle!" That was a major upside of her new job. It demanded rigorous physical training and constant readiness, but it was also giving her a stomach you could grate cheese on. She'd been at it for only about three months now, and was already in much better shape.

"It doesn't make it any easier for me, you know!"

"Alright, alright..." Serena laughed a bit and had another drink - mostly to see the worried look on Lisa's face. "I'm not gonna get super drunk tonight, so don't worry."

Lisa shot her a knowing look. "Super drunk?" She said, emphasizing the 'super' part. This was a compromise she hadn't intended.

"Yeah."

"So, how many?"

"I'm just gonna start with this one and see how I feel afterwards..." Serena took another sip of her cocktail. Her friend was right, she mused. It probably was better to err on the side of restraint, but she had come all this way, so she may as well make the most of it...

"Serena!" The black-haired commando heard her boss' voice coming off from somewhere behind her. He sounded a bit concerned and normally that would have mad her worried, but... She just giggled a bit to herself. You know what, how bad could it be? She leaned back in her chair, took another sip of her black velvet, and found a wide, impish grin coming onto her face.

Really, everyone else was right, she mused. She WAS a real Debbie downer, and really ought to look at things more favourably. Serena couldn't see any real reason not to assume the best from Mr. Van Steyr. After all, he was kind of a creep, but he'd been nothing but nice to her... Mostly. Well, this time, it probably wasn't anything to be worried about, right?

"I'm sorry to interrupt your evening," Vincent began, sidling up to the girls. Lisa turned over to look over at him with an expression somewhere between annoyed and resigned, but Vincent ignoring it for now and said. "I'm afraid there's been-..."

*snrk*

Mr. Van Steyr just paused, raising an eyebrow. "As I was saying, I'm afraid I've-"

That's about when what little of Serena's remaining composure was set alight and defenestrated, and to Vincent's surprise and Lisa's vexation, she erupted into a fit of maniacal, girlish laughter, the sheer humour of the world just proving too much to take any longer.

A heavy-lidded look crossed her sort-of boss' face. Turning over to Lisa, he extended an index finger towards the giggly commando and asked, "What's wrong with her?"

Lisa took a deep breath. "She's drunk." She flatly responded, shaking her head. "Not even the fun kind of drunk where people tell you everything about them." She sounded very disappointed.

"I'm noooooooot!" Serena lied, turning over towards her boss with a very cheery and visibly tipsy look on her face. Aside from her expression, the evidence was literally all over the table; by the number of glasses opposite her, she was busy working her way through her seventh cocktail of the night, and didn't seem to be in any danger of stopping. Lisa was only on her third, and Vincent was dead sober and disappointed.

"Well..." After a very long and awkward pause, Vincent finally asked, punctuated by Serena drunkenly giggling to herself like a teenager. "The fact that, drunk as she is, she can keep her mouth shut is fortunate for all of us, but Is there any chance of her sobering up anytime soon? It's very urgent."

"Oh, really?" Serena asked, slightly amazed. "Well, what's the sort of problem are we having on Christmas eve?" Vincent just ignored her for the moment. Part of why was because Serena was a bit early; because people like to visit their families and such on the actual day of, the Wintertide ball was being held on December 17th.

"Is too urgent for her to get a night's sleep and a few coffees in the morning?" Lisa asked, and Vincent shook his head. "Well..." Lisa put a finger on her chin and twirled a lock of red hair 'round her other index finger, deep in thought, as Serena just leaned back and looked very amused. "Can't you just shock her like you did last time?"

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "When was 'last time?'"

"Oh, Yeah!" Serena piped in, turning over towards her slightly exasperated looking colleagues. "That was when, uh, we were doing that thing with. Uh. That guy? My mortal enemy... What's his name... Its on the tip of my tongue..." Lisa suddenly looked a bit pale and anxious; Serena had dredged up some uncomfortable memories, but Vincent actually looked a bit surprised.

"Ah. I remember now." He said. "You were also a bit drunk that night, but I'd shocked you into being sober... Or, at least, sober enough... You know, I didn't actually realize you were drunk."

"What, seriously?..." Serena looked a bit confused, as, slower than usual (her neurons were throwing their own little hootenanny upstairs) she connected the dots. "Oh... Yeaaaah. I guess it wasn't so obvious since-"

"We can talk about it later, Serena." Vincent cut her off, before turning over to the redhead sitting beside her. "Do you have any ideas, Lisa?" Still a bit rattled from the memory of Dr. Lazerian, the necromantic mad scientist whom Serena had clashed with, and earned the eternal enmity of, only a few weeks ago. she just adjusted her glasses and shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno." She said. "I think you could try to shock her or maybe her her some fresh air and coffee."

"Hmm..." Vincent put a finger to his chin. "I don't know if it'll work twice, but..." He quickly reached in and grabbed Serena by the wrist, like a father grabbing an unruly child, but less forceful, since, to Vincent's chagrin, he'd realized that Serena was a lot heavier than she looked, being a tall girl, and what with all that muscle she'd put on lately.

"Could you come with me?" He resorted to asking. "We need to talk. In private." A bit too drunk to consider the implication, Serena found herself cheerfully standing up and giggling a bit as Vincent dragged her away from the table, and out of the banqueting hall entirely, passing by a few of their co-workers, Serena even waved to one of her Special Asset Protection Squad colleagues she'd spoken to earlier, and her bespectacled plus one, who both looked amused seeing her go by.

Eventually, far from the rubberneckers and gossip-makers, Vincent dragged her through a few elegant hallways and out of the convention centre entirely, down a side hallway, into a private room, out of the way, somewhere out of sight and out of hearing, where any Bathrette staff wouldn't catch any... Troublesome details they weren't at liberty to know. Most people would probably assume a man and a woman spiriting off from the party together were up to something scandalous. The truth was infinitely worse.

"So, what do you wanna talk about, boss?" Serena asked, a perky smile and a completely clueless look on her face, right by the windows, snowflakes dancing outside as Vincent took a deep breath and leaned in.

"Your secret's out, Serena." He said, in a flat, matter of fact tone, like he was reading off her performance review. "Everyone knows what you are."

It took about a second for the gears to turn and for the synapse to fire, but when it did, it hit her spirit like a freight train. Serena's red eyes went wide and a look of pure fear came onto her face. She already had a slightly pale complexion, but after hearing that, Serena went white as a sheet. She needed to take a step back, her mouth hanging wide open, her blood feeling cold as ice, goosebumps all over her exposed skin, breathing deeply, and her heart feeling like it was about to pound straight out of her chest.

"You're..." Serena took a deep, shaky, raggedy breath of air, her vision going runny around the edges but staring at the middle manager and his cold, disinterested demeanour with all the terrified focus of someone facing down their executioner. "Are... You gonna... Kill me?" She asked, panicky and frigid and reaching for a gun that wasn't there and completely lacking any of the drunken joviality she'd had nearly seconds prior.

"No." Vincent flatly responded, shaking his head. "I was lying. Your secret's still safe."

There was a long pause. To Serena, it felt like a fuse just blew in her head. She just stood there, goggle-eyed for a few seconds, making Vincent raise an eyebrow, an expression of slight worry coming into his face-

*WHAM!*

Replaced by an expression of regular worry as Serena fell flat onto her back, nesting in the red carpet with her hands out at her sides, an expression somewhere between extremely tense, extremely relieved, and extremely annoyed, frozen on her face.

Oh, dear..." The middle-manager rather nervously adjusted his bow tie. "I really hope I haven't actually killed you."

"You didn't..." Serena weakly responded from the floor.

"Good. Have you sobered up?"

"Yeah."

"Well, then." Vincent just cleared his throat. "You've got work."

"Work?"

"Yes. Work." Vincent cleared his throat. "Special Asset Protection Squad work." He clarified. "And I need you sober for this, since this is a client-facing job."

Serena took a deep breath, her expression slowly loosening, and her limbs slowly beginning to move, picking herself back up off the ground, a dull, and disappointed look on her face. This, in and of itself, wasn't unusual. While the Special Asset Protection Squad's primary mission was rapid, direct action against threats to the company or its staff, those didn't happen every day. So, an alternative stream of revenue was created by contracting out the services of the commando squad to anyone with a big problem and the ability to pay. "What do I need to do for this guy, then?" She asked, her tone suddenly quite tired, and devoid of emotion.

"He hasn't told us the full story yet." The middle-manager helpfully clarified. "But the client has expressed the need for an experienced hacker. Naturally, that meant your name was at the top of the list." Of course, for Serena, that just meant...

"And I have to do this on my night off?"

"Yes."

A very irritated, almost insulted frown came onto Serena's face. "And you made me sober up by telling me my secret was out."

"Yes." Vincent still sounded utterly deadpan and professional, and Serena just took in a deep, choleric breath of air.

"Don't ever do that again." She told him, her tone dripping with irritation and vexation.

"I don't think it'll work a second time." He flatly replied, and Serena just groaned. A cheap lighter found its way into her hand, and, with a click, a small flame re-lit the half-smoked cigarette she'd been, up to now, keeping behind her ear.

"Fine, lets' go." She said, jumping right through all the stages of grief towards acceptance. Her job had a lot of perks. A good schedule was not one of them.

Serena dashed her dog-end into an ashtray and followed Vincent into the conference room, the warm, orange lamps and red carpet contrasting the dark, snowy cityscape outside the plate glass windows, deep in thought, wondering exactly what was so important that she was being torn away from a party she admittedly didn't want to be at, but was nonetheless dutifully making the most of...

"Ah!" The client exclaimed, turning over towards her as she came in, with an eager look on his mustachioed face. "You must be the crackerjack console cowgirl I've been told about! I have to say!..." He said, speaking in a faint Germanic accent, and he quickly stood up and approached, flashing a smile as he shook her hand, and Serena tried her best to reciprocate the gesture. The clammy sweat on his palms was making her just a twinge uncomfortable. "You're certainly much... Lovelier than I was expecting."

"Er..." A very awkward and embarrassed look came on Serena's face, suddenly aware that she was wearing a cocktail dress and showing off more skin than she usually did. "Thank you?..." She cleared her throat, trying to pull a professional face. "I'm... Flattered, Mr..."

"Agent Ramneau, Mr. Schwarzwalder. Chairman and C.E.O. of the WalderSoft corporation." Vincent quickly stepped in, introducing them both with a drilled professional demeanour. "And likewise."

"I must say, Ms. Ramneau." He said, adjusting his necktie. "I'm very thankful that you were able to handle my case on such short notice." Serena shot Vincent an awkward, somewhat vexed look, and he none-too-subtly gestured to pay attention to the client. "You see, as you may have already been told, I need the able assistance of a computer expert for a rather... Sensitive issue."

"It's..." She cleared her throat again, stopping herself from reflexively reaching for the dog-end that wasn't there. "It's no problem at all." She lied, with a customer-service smile. It was a bit forced. She really hoped he couldn't see it, because she had a bad feeling about this.

Mr. Schwarzwalder was obviously a man of wealth and influence. From his immaculately tailored black suit, sharp-looking, slightly graying brown hair, golden cuff-links, and an expensive-looking silver watch, he absolutely oozed money. The fact that he could afford to contract out the services of Bathrette Beautronics' crack commando squad was only more evidence to that effect. That wealth meant he was portly instead of being merely fat. Though, Serena mused, it might be a better word. As well-tailored as his suit was, it couldn't quite hide the fact that, with a white beard and a red coat, Hollace Schwarzwalder could be easily mistaken for jolly o'l Saint Nick. In this day and age, when most people felt food insecurity, and had to make due with heavily processed, artificial foodstuffs, it was was almost impressive, and it made Serena felt a bit of secondhand guilt at having enjoyed a sumptuous, real steak dinner and drinking too much.

Serena took a deep breath, and tried to put on a smile, thinking of what her friend Gabriel (Who had been at the party, but had mostly been off to one side with the rest of the research people) would probably tell her. Can't just assume the worst of others - or herself, after all. She'd need to wait for an actual, legitimate reasons to pop up before she disliked Hollace. So, she told the judgmental center of her brain to shut up and put her best foot forward, flashing a more confident smile and just decided to focus on the realities of what she was going to have to do on her night off.

"Now..." Serena paused, adjusting her mind to professional, Human-Resources-speak, fighting down the cognitive dissonance. The man was clearly rich, and she WAS on the job, so, with Vincent right beside her, she'd need to speak the part. "I think we should discuss our problem, Mr. Schwarzwalder..." Serena said, sounding as stiff and professional as she could possibly manage.

At that, Hollace just took in a deep breath, his expression shifting from excited to stern, and strangely grave, and an odd feeling of unease crept in at the back of Serena's mind. "Sit down, Ms. Ramneau." He said. "It's a bit of a long story." So, she did, taking a seat directly across from Hollace, her back to the window, with Vincent standing right behind her, sitting upright and as proper as she could manage, hands right infront of her, on the table, fingers linked, doing her best to look the part of a professional, cybernetically enhanced elite corporate hacker, and to not look uneasy or ticked off.

Serena did her best to keep her composure during the explanation, but it was a tough job. To say he was having a bit of 'computer trouble' would be putting it lightly. WalderSoft was on the verge of bringing an extremely innovative new product to launch, though, Hollace looked a bit disappointed she hadn't ever heard of Ruby Heart Online, the upcoming extremely immersive, massively multiplayer title they were developing, despite the hype being 'everywhere'. She just wasn't much of a video gamer. Mr. Schwarzwalder cleared his throat, and changed gears. It was a moot point; they couldn't actually finish the game and ship it because much of the game's assets, including the innovative programming for handling the world and its interactions, were in the Schwarzwalder Family's private Matrix server. Which they had lost access to.

A rogue program had entrenched itself quite stubbornly onto the WalderSoft servers and was refusing to leave. Hollace cheerfully, and simply explained that all he really needed her to do was destroy or evict the rogue program so his company's programmers could freely access the server again. Serena tried to look composed, especially as Hollace reassured her it was kind of a milk run, and that a hacker of her obvious skill should have no trouble exorcising the rogue program. Serena had to wonder if he knew what he was talking about - because she did, and that was why she was worried.

Autonomous computer programs, oftentimes just referred to in shorthand as "AI's", had come very far in their almost hundred-year history. These days, they were everywhere and fulfilled every single role imaginable. ICE programs - Intruder Containment and Expulsion - were probably the types of AI a hacker like Serena was most familiar with, but it was nowhere near the breath and depth of their capabilities. Most AIs were fairly harmless and didn't have any capacity for independent thought, but if it was capable of going rogue... Serena took a deep breath, and found she couldn't quite suppress an expression of unease.

To even go rogue in the first place, or 'to ghost' in hacker parlance, an AI needed free will. Self-aware programs were uncommon; usually an AI needed to be nothing more than a series of simple routines. Sometimes though, an operator needed more complicated things done that involved a degree of critical thinking, which meant giving the program much more processing power. Which made it both more intelligent, stronger, and wilful, and that meant a self-aware AI was inherently a dangerous tool. Serena asked bluntly what sort of rogue program it was, but Hollace just sighed, tugged his collar, and explained he couldn't really tell her. He was a businessman, not a computer expert - hence why he'd came to her. Serena laughed at the little joke, but despite it, and Hollace's assurance it would give her no trouble, it was doing little to soothe the lump in her stomach.

She turned over to Mr. Van Steyr, right behind her, who still wore a rather cold expression on his face, and Serena said, bluntly, "It's going to be dangerous."

"It's a good thing your career is danger, then." He replied. It might've been a joke, but his expression was still cold and stern and Serena found herself laughing uneasily. Yes, it was true. Her job was danger, and she would be lying if she said she didn't find it a bit bracing. This was a different sort of danger, though. Guns and knives, she could stand. What she was afraid of was getting her brain burned out by a rogue computer program.

She'd heard the stories on the internet. Few people ever engaged a high-level ghost program in a netbattle. Fewer still survived. She'd heard fighting a ghost was a level beyond even the worst black ICE. (A variety of Intruder Containment and Expulsion programs, with lethal capability.) It wasn't the sort of thing you picked on without a plan, and especially not alone... Serena took a deep breath, red eyes drifting to the periphery of the room. No, there wasn't a way to wriggle out of this, but... "I think..." She said, an idea coming to her, a spark flashing in her eye, and a small grin coming to her face. "Vincent, I think this is a two-man job."

Hollace's expression turned, momentarily, almost a bit offended, but then calmed down, adjusted his necktie, and merely looked concerned. "Are you sure?" He said.

"I'll have to entertain Mr. Schwarzwalder's Inquiry, here." Vincent added. "What makes you say that?"

Serena just sighed, and a heavy-lidded expression came onto her face. "Because I'm a computer expert. I've got a bachelor's degree in computer science, I'm ex cyber-security, cracked a dozen net hackathons and I've got access to StrangeWorld." All that bragging was the hacker equivalent of a chest of war medals. "So..." Vincent shot her a heavy-lidded look, and Serena paused, cleared her throat, and changed gears to, "So, I would recommend deferring to my expertise. You said it yourself - you're not a computer expert, Mr. Schwarzwalder."

"But it's a simple task!" Hollace exclaimed, still a bit dumbfounded. "It wouldn't be any trouble at all!"

Serena adjusted her dress a bit, and took a deep breath. "Regardless," She said, "I'd like to have support on this mission." Serena said, managing to make 'I'd like' sound a lot like 'I will.'

"Am I going to foot the bill for a second agent?" Hollace said, dropping the mask of amicability a bit as he got down to brass tacks, and Serena looked over at Vincent, who looked as cold and composed as ever while adjusting his bowtie.

"We'll have to talk with the accounts department." Vincent diplomatically replied, and Hollace's expression looked more stern now, because he could tell that meant, 'Yes.'

"Fine, since I suppose it won't happen at all unless I acquiesce." Hollace replied, displeased, and with a look in his eyes that said he intended to drive the hardest bargain those bean counters had ever seen. "Did you have anyone in mind to help you, Ms. Ramneau?"

Serena found a smile coming to her face. "Yeah..." She didn't really need to think that hard, because she was already good friends with another rather capable computer expert. "I'll have to go and get her, though. If you'll give me a second..." She said, slowly getting up from her seat, and heading towards the door, back out into the hallway, leaving Hollace and Vincent alone to work out the fine details, as she mulled over how she was going to phrase this, fishing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her dress, and taking a quick smoke as she mulled over what to say if Lisa tried to wriggle out of helping her...

The door to Hollace's car - a curvy, elegant, British Racing Green Jaguar sedan slammed shut behind Serena, she and Lisa getting comfortable in their seats, as the chauffeur in front shifted gears, and they sped off into the night, tires cutting into the buildup of white, snowflakes dancing and glimmering in the air and catching the multicoloured neon lights outside.

"Can you hold onto this?" Serena asked, trying to, at once, balance the cyberdeck slung across her legs, and put a black leather haversack into Lisa's hands.

"Is all of this your gear?" Lisa asked, and Serena flashed a wry smile.

"I like to call it my 'bag of tricks.' She said. Yes, would have been her actual answer. Serena would have said it was full of 'peripherals and party favours,' but, for non-hackers, the bag contained everything she needed to work in the matrix. The most critical item was a pair of trodes - four pairs, just in case - a device that went over the head like a diadem and connected the brain into the digital world. It also contained a suite of other cables, peripherals, miniature slates and workbooks, mice and spare parts and thumb drives, and a whole load of attack program disks, offensive, defensive, and support programs of varying effects and levels of potency.

Across her denim-covered legs, which, Serena was fiddling with, was her cyberdeck. Hacker slang for a portable, souped-up computer. Hers' was her baby. It was custom built at no small expense, and took the form of a solid-looking black box about the size and shape of a small synthesizer piano, and even had a strap on the back for ease of carrying.

"Can you hand me the Toshiba PD-105 slate?" Serena said, and held out a hand that Lisa, dutifully and with only a bit of sark, filled with a miniature tablet computer, and Serena quickly popped open a panel on her cyberdeck and slotted it in. Outwardly, Serena's deck looked monolithic, but a quick flick in the right place revealed a myriad of ports to connect almost any adapter, a flip-up screen and keyboard and, critically, a secondary panel that the PD-105 plugged into and acted as what hackers called a 'program manager.' A secondary device slaved to her cyberdeck that held and executed all the attack programs she loaded onto it.

Serena had been into the hacking scene for a while, and considered herself quite good. That meant, while she didn't have a massive stack of doomsday programs at her disposal, she did have a large and broad array of mid-to-high-level programs in her collection, and was, with help and occasional advice from Lisa beside her, busy loading them onto her program manager, taking out disks and slotting them into one of the many ports on her cyberdeck, each one making a new entry onto her slate, each one an attack she could digitally launch.

In simple terms, an attack program is a disposable program contained onto a diskette, loaded into a cyberdeck, and run off a program manager that essentially brute-forces the code of whatever server you're connected to act in a predetermined way. A hacking tool - the most popular type, as a matter of fact - and, as the name implies, most of them do things like damage or destroy enemy programs and avatars by throwing fireballs or lighting bolts or turning your limbs into blades and bludgeons and firearms.

There did also exist more defensive programs that created shields or restored integrity to a damaged avatar or put together simple programs to fight on your behalf, as well as more supportive ones that could detect enemy infiltrators, locate points of interest, or, in a fight, kick up clouds of smoke or conjure up a choking field of vines, or infect other programs, or befuddle an enemy's attack. They were the hackers' tool of choice for fighting ICE or other hackers, and the really strong ones were hard to make and crazy expensive. It wasn't helped by the fact that more powerful attack programs were harder to copy and burnt out quicker. A weak program could be used dozens of times, but Serena could count herself lucky if the strongest attack she'd loaded onto her deck, could get more than about four uses before breaking. Getting ones' hands on a really strong attack program was an involved and difficult process - and often involved trading more than just cash. So, Serena kept her most powerful attack programs for dire emergencies.

"Ooooooh!..." Lisa exclaimed, a sudden look of curiosity coming onto her face, as Serena looked a bit awkward, and realized her friend might've been doing a bit more digging into her bag than was, strictly necessary. "Are these ASSIST modules?" She asked, pulling out and holding up two larger disks, one red, and one blue, and Serena had a smile and a heavy-lidded expression on her face.

"They're for emergencies." She explained, and, none too subtly, reached over and pushed Lisa's hand back into the bag. "So, keep them handy. I might need you to load them for me while I'm jacked in." ASSIST modules were another type of program for altering cyberspace, though, they did so differently. The closest comparison would be like ICE, but loaded on, and running off, a user's cyberdeck, rather than a server. ASSIST programs did as the name implied - they were digitized assistants. Some hackers weren't too fond of using them, since, they did take up valuable system power, but sometimes, they could be handy. Most of them did more benign things like sort through library archives or handle correspondence, but the ones Lisa brought out, The Red Ogre and The Blue Fiend, were combat support programs Serena had acquired at no small investment in money and time. She just took a deep breath, and leaned back in her seat. She hoped she wouldn't need to use them, but, better safe than sorry.

All of this for a simple system cleanup?" Hollace asked from the front passenger seat, with a bemused tone and expression that wasn't returned. In the back, both Serena and Lisa wore heavy-lidded, somewhat grave, mostly annoyed expressions. Serena had an inkling of how dangerous this was, and Lisa, not enjoying hacking as a hobby as much as Serena did, but still knowing a lot about computers herself, had nearly dropped her drink when Serena had explained exactly what Hollace was asking her to do. Getting her to come along and help her had taken a lot of coaxing and pestering and pleading, and it was only the fact that, in Lisa's words, "We're friends, and you saved my life, so, fine." that eventually convinced her to come along. Serena still needed to promise to buy her dinner.

"I like to be prepared." Serena responded, very bluntly, and with just a hint of hostility in her tone - with Vincent gone, she wasn't feeling the overpowering urge to be uptight anymore.

"Where ARE we going, anyways?" Lisa asked, and, Serena noticed, the 'back of tricks' was now sitting on her right, and she had produced, from a purse, a larger, silvery slate with a stylus, and a small, impish smile came to Serena's face. It was something she'd noticed Lisa doing a lot more lately while on the job... Most of the time, it was when she was on the job. She'd asked, once. Lisa had just said that 'She liked writing things down' and Serena had left it at that.

"Well, now that you're all done," Hollace said. Since leaving the Winter Palace they'd had to make a few stops. They'd stopped back at Bathrette's massive, castle-like headquarters (usually just called 'The Castle') to pay the quartermaster a visit and pick up a pair of handguns. They were on a job, and after her first real mission, Serena had made it a habit of not hitting the town on a job without one and a dozen magazines. They'd stopped over off at Lisa's townhouse so she could change out of her dress, and had made that last pit stop at Serena's apartment so she could change as well and pick up her gear. "We're heading off to where we keep the mainframe, so you can get that nasty rogue program off it."

"Yes, but where do you keep it?" Lisa zeroed in on that, putting particular stress on the 'where' part, even crossing her legs and playing with the stylus a bit. Since emerging from her place, she'd dropped the red cocktail dress and replaced it with a wine-coloured jumper and a black pencil skirt underneath a tan winter coat that had a capelet around her shoulders, thick white stockings, red go-boots, and a fancy, coquettish hat to match her coat. "The WalderSoft headquarters?"

Serena, meanwhile, was feeling very much relieved to be back in her usual outfit; black turtleneck and blue jeans and black leather riding boots, yellow scarf around her neck and a black, double-breasted leather coat. It was a gift from her dad when she'd finished college and it was real leather with a fleecy, woolly liner and it had a belt that went around her waist and it was the coziest, warmest thing she'd owned and had been with her through thick and thin. Wearing it after being stuck in that stupid dress felt like being reunited with an old friend. It was enough to make her smile - although, the looming task ahead of them was enough to wipe that smile off her face.

Hollace just gave the two of them a warm-sounding, full-bellied laugh. Serena didn't like it too much - it might've just been overly cynical, but she could feel a slight touch of irritation in the way he sounded. "Well, no." He said. "We're the sort of company who like to keep things close to home, so we're heading over to the old family manor, up in the domes." The Jaguar made a hard left turn at an intersection, and, outside the windshield, past the drivers' seat, Serena could suddenly see they were approaching a very tall building. "Have you been there, before?" He asked.

Serena just shook her head. "I'm nowhere near rich enough for that." She sardonically replied, half-joking, eliciting a small laugh from Hollace.

"Once..." Lisa replied, finger on her chin and very deep in thought, and Serena just found herself raising an eyebrow. "When I was really little, and I don't remember much."

"You did?" Serena asked, turning towards her, as the Jaguar closed the distance with the massive, towering building on the right-hand side of the road, and turned into it, the vehicle passing into what looked a bit like the entrance to a parking garage, and stopping infront of a lifting barrier, as the chauffeur turned and lowered his window, and began to speak with a man in the booth to their left.

"Yeah, I think it was for a family friend's wedding..." Lisa explained, as the driver swiped a credit card into a piece of machinery, and Serena found her eyes drifting to the roof. The Jaguar had an electric sunshine roof that was closed for the winter, and she found herself a bit grateful, wondering what she'd see if it was open. "It was... Really weird." Lisa said.

Serena raised an eyebrow. "How weird?"

"It's..." Lisa just stroked her chin, as both girls ignored the attendant in the booth saying he'd send them up in a very thick, working class accent, and the Jaguar briefly rolled forwards, before stopping again, closer to a wall. "Like going into a historical movie." She explained, snapping her fingers.

"Like Pioneer Park?" Serena asked, a bit excited. That was a little historical museum built into an old warehouse that she'd been fond of as a little girl.

"Yeah, like that." Lisa replied with a twirl of the stylus as, underneath them, something went 'click' and secured the car's tires. "Except it's stuck in... Well..."

"It's a bit eclectic, time-wise." Hollace piped in, gesturing with a shake of his hand for emphasis. "The town centre is done in a bit of an old European style, but the outer mansions are even more old fashioned, like their builders." He joked, cracking a smile.

Serena was about to say something, but found herself interrupted by a sudden jolt from underneath the car, and a sudden downward pressure forcing her into her seat. She just looked confused, until she turned to look out the limo's windows and realized, from the way the lights on the walls were streaking past her, they were travelling... Directly up. Very quickly.

"Oh, don't worry about that, Ms. Ramneau!" Hollace quickly added, sensing the black-haired girl's apprehension. "The Carlift up to the Skyroad is a bit... Intense, but it's completely safe! After all..." Hollace gave another jolly, full-bellied laugh. "For how much the toll is, it had better be!"

Serena took a deep breath, as the carlift began to slow down, the sedan now... Well, probably several hundred metres above the city by now, and beginning to slow down. For a moment, she thought to ask, but as the carlift gradually came to a stop, and the gate opened, and the Jaguar rolled out onto another road, lightly dusted with powder snow and criss-crossed with tire tracks, the thought got knocked right out of her as she gazed out the window, eyes wide.

The Skyroad high above St. Petersburg was a part of town that catered to the elite. Lining the highway-bridge complex were the a few charming little stores and restaurants and coffee houses, and it felt odd seeing them alongside the tips of titanic skyscrapers, framed by wrought iron streetlamps that forewent the usual light bulbs and instead burnt with a glass-enclosed gas flame that danced and gleamed in the night, as the snowflakes drifted down.

In between the spaces, the border between 'here' and ' the sky' was marked with large, high, imposing metal fences. Sturdy enough to contain an out of control sports car, but built to give a stunning view of the city below, glimpsed between stores and skyscrapers and down alleyways, the millions of lights, orange lamps down on the streets, with massive concentrations of whites and reds on the freeways. All sorts of warm colours in the windows of tenements and thousands upon thousands of neon billboards, signs, and advertisements that covered the city like baubles on a Christmas tree, and Serena felt a bit nauseous from seeing it from this high up, but, in spite of the uneasy sensation, she found she couldn't quite pull away, hypnotized by the dance of snowflakes as they drifted down into the city, hundreds of meters below her.

While she looked on, entranced, Hollace had explained some of the engineering that had gone into quite literally building streets in the sky, and all the modern-age technology that'd gone into it. It all sounded nightmarish - especially for the engineers themselves - but the results, Serena had to admit, were impressive, if vertigo-inducing.

They weren't quite alone on the Skyroad, either. There were a few gangs of toffs out on the street, strolling around like they owned the place - which, they sort of did - all dressed up in all dressed up in fine wool and leather coats that looked like a month's pay. The cars that passed them by were similarly expensive and flashy and would have made an auto nerd drool with ecstasy; as much works of art as they were means of conveyance, and rolling by with the rumbling of fuel cell power or the low hum of uranium fusion.

They drove past delicatessens full of real meat and fish, tobacconists that sold real cigars, real tobacco, and genuine wooden pipes. Boutiques and tailors with wares of genuine leather and wool, silk and suede and satin and all literally tailor-made. Serena felt a bit like an orphaned girl looking through the window of a candy store - and there were a few of those, too, and, mostly to try and avoid feeling jealous or petty - especially since she was due to get her year-end bonus after this - Serena just focused on staring down, into the city, and clearing her mind for the errand ahead.

Soon, the Jaguar had passed out of the shops and was speeding quickly Northwards on a massive highway, mounted from skyscraper to skyscraper, hundreds of metres above the city, and flanked on both sides by those sturdy looking metal fences, and, Serena could see through the windshield, the massive dome complex on the city's edge was rapidly approaching, the Jaguar beginning it's approach to one of the massive carlift towers on the dome's edge.

The Skyroad might've been the playground of the ultra-rich, but the domes were their homes. An isolated slice of the world's past as imagined by the ultra-sheltered. Shielded from crime, pollution, and the problems of the world. The kilometre-wide Chenier channel, normally used to bring international shipping deeper inland, cut off the northernmost tip of the city and controlled access to the Domes. One way in was the Skyroad they were on, the other, Serena could see, looking down, was a massive, eight-lane suspension bridge, the end facing the city fortified by a grand, solid-looking series of gatehouses to ensure only those common people who were regrettably necessary or had business in the Domes got in.

Eventually, their car began to slow down as the carlift approached, and, eventually went inside and came to a stop, and Serena gave a sigh of relief. It was an... Odd sensation being this high up - and it was even odder going all the way back down - but, Serena was just glad to be on ground-level again.

"So, what did you think of that?" Hollace asked, sounding a bit proud.

"It was..." Serena felt a bit tense, suddenly. She wanted to joke about it being too rich for her blood, but, the thought of the red, life-giving substance threatened to make her lose focus, so she just took a deep breath and said, "Interesting."

Serena reclined and clutched her cyberdeck as she watched from the windshield, the tunnel going by, a view of darkened metal walls, reinforcing cross-bars and metallic grates, lit up by soft, orange bulbs, the asphalt underneath them smooth as a baby's bottom, the Jaguar gliding over it like it was hovering off the ground, and, off in the distance, she could see the edge, where the stark, orange glow of the tunnel suddenly terminated with... She raised an eyebrow. The night sky? Not having memories of a family wedding to fall back on, Serena didn't know what to expect on the inside of the Domes, but, as the Jaguar cleared the tunnel and exited into the domes, Serena found herself a bit awestruck. She wasn't expecting to be... Outside. The snowfall had stopped, but they were outside.

Well, not outside. The sensation of seeing the inside of the Domes for the first time was uncanny. Serena would even call it 'surreal.' Or, 'unreal' may have been better. Her eyes were telling her the car had exited the tunnel and they'd found themselves on a road out in the back country, snowbanks rising up on each side of the pavement, reflecting the white and yellow glow from the bulbs that marked the edges and centre of the road, like the lights that lined an airport runway.

Up above her, rising up from the snowbank, the darkness of the night was pierced by a million glittering lights that dotted the firmament. It took a second for Serena to realize what they were. The stars. Both girls found themselves peering out of the car windows in amazement, mouths agape and eyes wide at the sheer magnificence of it. Like a billion little diamonds on a field of black velvet, the stars glimmered and shone in the night sky, dazzling both girls with it's magnificence, and Serena, to her shock, realized she'd never seen the night sky - the REAL night sky - ever before.

She always had been a city girl. Not exactly by choice: The Crash - a decade-long period of war, political upheaval, anarchy and nuclear devastation that followed the destruction of the old, centralized internet - had rendered much of the world, and in particular, much of what had once been the nations that were once America and Canada mostly uninhabitable. Outside of the cities was overgrown, unwelcoming, and lousy with bandits - and worse things. Those were the nice parts. The worse ones were so irradiated that they'd just kill you stone dead.

'The countryside' was something Serena never experienced, and, with light pollution in the cities being what it was, she'd been all too used to thinking of the night sky as simply being nothing but darkness, and literally found herself breathless at the beautiful, dazzling sight just above her.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Hollace struck in, showing a warm, if proud, smile underneath his mustache. That was when, for the second time in a very quick period, Serena's eyes went wide, this time out of shock as the realization hit her. "From what I heard, the designers were quite fastidious about getting the stars just right. They referenced dozens of old astrological charts and even braved the Desolation just to make sure they were getting it exactly right."

"Y-yeah..." Serena took a deep breath, laughing a bit, unable to peel her eyes from the constructed brilliance of the stars. "It... Really is." She admitted. It was fake. They were inside the domes, after all. These weren't the real stars - in fact, Serena realized, if she could fly all the way up to the top, she'd probably see they were just light-emitting diodes on a field of dark blue. They captivated her anyways, a twinkle in her red eyes, and an amazed breath on her lips. It might've been fake, but it was very well made. If Hollace wasn't just pulling her leg, she also had to admit, the dedication of it's builders was something admirable. Not just anyone would brave getting shot by bandits or torn apart by a mutated horror just to make something exactly perfect.

"So..." She took a deep breath, sitting back in her seat and trying to relax. "What about the snow?" Serena asked, a slight smile on her face and her tone a bit curious. "Is it fake, too?"

"Oh, no, it's quite real!" Hollace enthusiastically replied from the front passenger's seat. "The weather engineers are quite good at their job; they make it shine, rain, and even snow - It's off right now, but every so often, in the winter, they turn it back on and sprinkle down another few inches from the ceiling."

Serena took another look out the window, staring over the massive snowbanks that flanked the road and stretched all the way to the horizon. It inspired both awe and resentment, she realized. It was impressive - even beautiful - that a real winter environment had been made in this place, but galling from the fact that more money than she'd ever see in her life went into making it.

As the Jaguar rolled on, Serena took a deep breath, and looked down to her cyberdeck. Normally, this would have been a relaxing drive, but as her sense of wonder began to calm down, she began to fiddle with her cyberdeck and check all her equipment, while the driver turned through another intersection, getting closer and closer to their destination. Out the window, she could see, poking up from the snow, lights on even late at night... Except one. There was one massive mansion among them that was still completely dark, and, from the fact that it was getting closer... She quickly turned over towards Lisa, who was writing busily in a dataslate, occasionally stopping to adjust her glasses or twirl the pen. Outwardly, Lisa looked cool as a cucumber, but Serena could see an expression in those hazel green eyes that betrayed a tension and nervousness in the air.

"There it is." Hollace said, pointing at the approaching darkened manor, standing against the night sky like a cloaked stranger in a cornfield. Though his tone was amicable and encouraging, Serena could still swear that the temperature in the car dropped by several degrees as Schwarzwalder manor came into view. Even in the darkness of artificial night, It was clearly a great, extravagant house befitting a family of the upper crust. The manor had a grand, Teutonic exterior facade, simultaneously austere and elegant, with, richly decorated windowpanes and fixtures, towering annexes that flanked both sides of the entrance, and a steep, black-tiled roof overhead. Ordinarily, Serena would probably have been impressed, but...

She took a deep breath as the Jaguar pulled into the manor's courtyard, tires cutting lines in the fresh, untouched snow, high beams lighting up the manor's wall, only making it seem more... Lifeless. Even just from the exterior, Serena could tell it'd been a bit since the place was maintained, and that just made a chill go up her spine.

"I assume you will need no more instructions, computer expert." Hollace said, turning over towards them, expression more serious, though, his tone sounded slightly... Mocking, and Serena felt a tiny twinge of choler at that. "So, I'll wish you the best of luck." Serena took a deep breath. As unsettling as it was, they were on the clock, and they did have to do this mission sooner or later...

"Do you have a key?" The dark haired commando asked, reaching for the door, and holding onto her cyberdeck with her other hand. Hollace just shook his head, and she looked immediately concerned.

"I'd imagine it's still unlocked." Hollace casually replied, and the way he delivered that just froze Serena's blood and put her a bit on edge.

The rear door of the Jaguar opened, sending a rush of frigid, wintry air into Serena's face and hair as she stepped into the courtyard, feeling a thin layer of snow crunch underneath her boots and seeing her breath hang in the air. It was a bit... Bracing, she mused. There was just something about a cold night like this that... Well... A nervous smile just crossed her face. At the very least it gave you an excuse to shiver.

Lisa stepped out behind her, bag of tricks slung on her back as Serena slung her cyberdeck 'cross hers, and she slammed the door closed, leaving Hollace and his chauffeur in the warm, safe heated Jaguar as they wordlessly headed towards the front doors of the manor, breaths hanging in the air, and a slightly anxious laugh escaped Serena's lips.

"Worried?" Lisa asked, putting on a smile and sticking her thumb behind the strap of Serena's bag, and Serena flashed a smile underneath a heavy-lidded expression. She didn't want to say 'yes', but, both of them were ex-cybersecurity, and that meant they knew enough about AI's to know that this job wasn't something to be taken lightly.

Serena held onto the strap of her cyberdeck with one hand like a slung rifle, and as they went up the steps, onto the porch, towards the set of double doors, Serena felt into her jacket with her other hand, feeling the familiar shape and weight of the gunbelt she wore. The standard sidearm for the Specials (as they were informally called) was an Italian Beretta P49. A solid, dependable autoloader chambered for the popular 10mm calibre, and, on the belt, Serena was now in the policy of bringing as many magazines along as would fit. This might've been an 'aggressive network access' job, but Serena had already learned a very, very harsh lesson about the dangers of going out on a mission without adequate amounts of firepower. Although... She took a deep breath and frowned. It didn't quite make up for the fact that she wasn't really the best shot in the world.

For close combat, she brought along a personal item: in a pocket, in the lining of her coat, was also the best knife she'd ever owned (and she liked to cook, so, that was saying something) It was an oversized butterfly knife with an iridescent, silvery blue handle of solid, sturdy feeling steel and an extremely razor-sharp blade. The kind of sharpness that most swords dream of aspiring to. She'd put it through some of the roughest, most pitched melee fighting imaginable and it'd hadn't chipped, let alone dulled. She'd also been using it to slice up some diet sausage earlier that day, and it was damn good at that, too.

Serena took a deep breath as she stepped up to the ornate, richly carved double doors and put a gloved hand on the decorated brass handle. Another cloud of condensation escaped her mouth as she turned the knob, opening the door with a loud and lingering creeeeeeeeeak, and exposing the total darkness inside. She took one look over towards her friend, put on a smile and said, "Lets' go." and, with great care, stepped into the darkness.

"Geez, it's pitch black in here!" Lisa said, the door closing shut behind them, a sheepish and nervous look coming onto her face, and it was making Serena feel a bit nervous herself. "I can't see five feet infront of me!"

"I hadn't thought of that..." Serena, her tone outwardly light, but apprehensive under the surface, and her teeth felt a bit tingly.

"Me neither." Lisa admitted, letting loose a nervous laugh, and Serena laughed with her. She was trying not to show it, but her laughter was touch more anxious than Lisa's, and, cloaked by the darkness, looked a bit tense as the revelation hit her; she could see just fine.

In the darkness, her red eyes couldn't make out any colours, but other than that, she could see quite well. They were in a richly decorated foyer, above which a darkened chandelier hung forlornly from its silver chain. To their left was a portal leading to, one hallway, to the right was another, and right by it was a solid-looking staircase ascending to the second floor. Lining the walls were the usual detritus that accumulated in the homes of the wealthy; paintings, objects d'art, and a few plants. Thankfully, none of them were following her with their eyes. Serena needed to squint a bit to take in the details, but she could SEE it. She took a deep breath, and shook her head. She shouldn't have been surprised; A little memory played back in her head of Gabriel describing her... Enhancements. One of the intentional side-effects was improving her low-light vision. She hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now... She shook her head. It was just another unnatural thing about her new life...

"Do you have a torch?" She asked, and to make sure they were seeing different things, Serena experimentally waved a hand infront of Lisa's spectacles, eyes going wide as she failed to react at all.

"I don't, but I've got my cell..." Lisa replied, and she felt for her purse and began digging through it and Serena took a step back before Lisa realized what she'd done. "Do you have yours?"

"I do, but I don't wanna kill the battery." Serena replied, and Lisa's expression turned to a sneer and she snickered and she rolled her eyes.

"Didn't you say you were going to replace that thing?"

Serena just flashed a wiry smile. "I said no such thing, Lisa." She responded, in a half-jokey tone. Truth be told, she might've. In anger. Her phone was something she liked, most of the time. She'd gotten familiar with it and didn't want to swap it for a new model, even if it was old and a bit crappy and the battery had a bad habit of dying spontaneously.

Eventually, Lisa dug her cell out, and nearly blinded Serena with a cone of stark white illumination. One apology later, Serena caught her breath and scanned the wall and reached for the ornate looking light switch, flicked it on, and... There was a long pause, as Serena and Lisa looked at eachother, growing increasingly concerned. Then Serena flicked it off, and on again, and did it a few more times for good measure. No matter how many times she tried, though, the foyer remained cloaked in darkness. "Huh." Lisa finally piped up, breaking the silence. "I think the power might be out."

"It can't be."

Lisa raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, can't be?"

"Well, for one they don't just cut the power to rich people's places." Serena rolled her eyes. "And if it was out, then that means the mainframe is powered off, too."

"Is it?"

"Well, we can see" Serena slung the large, bulky cyberdeck off her back, sat on the staircase and got to work, the cyberdeck propped up on her knees and Lisa hovering over her shoulder to watch. She didn't put on any trodes - all she needed was the graphical user interface this time. Serena flipped up the screen and opened up her networking menu application, and both girls' eyes went wide in shock as a signal flashed on screen. Serena's cyberdeck had found a very, very powerful matrix connection, and, with a deep breath, Serena read off the display name. "Walder Bros. Private Mainframe... STAY OUT." The both of them looked a bit nervous.

"Is that a threat?..." Serena asked, rhetorically, and a bit nervous.

"Walder Bros?..." Lisa asked aloud, and Serena's eyes went wide.

"Yeah..." Serena's red eyes had to double check that. "Isn't Hollace's company called WalderSoft?..."

There was a long, awkward pause between the two of them. "It is." Lisa replied, having pulled the dataslate from her purse while Serena wasn't looking and was reading off her notes. "Hollace Schwarzwalder, Chairman of the WalderSoft video game corporation..."

"How much did you write down about him?"

"Can we just focus on the mission?" Lisa's smile looked somewhere between reproachful and embarrassed, as she gestured over to Serena's cyberdeck, and couldn't quite look her in the eyes. "Anyways, try connecting to the mainframe. With any luck, we can just sit here while you work."

"Even though it says 'STAY OUT?'"

Lisa cracked a sly, teasing grin. "Are you gonna let that stop you?"

Point taken..." Serena dryly replied, a short-lived smile coming at the corners of her lips and quickly fading, eyes turning more focused and expression becoming more concerned, and Serena said, "It's... Not working, though."

"Are you hitting a whitelist?" Lisa asked. Most of the time, that was the problem: device-based whitelisting was one of the more common ways to keep unwanted visitors out of a secure system. Essentially, if your computer wasn't recognized by the network, it would reject your connection, full-stop. So, nasty black-hat hackers would need to either spoof the connection, infiltrate their machine into the network, or just steal a recognized machine.

"It's not." Serena explained, and Lisa raised an eyebrow again. "Look, there isn't a password, and the mainframe's accepting my connection, but..." She pointed to the little symbol by the globe glyph on the right side of the window, the both of them looking more alert. "I'm picking up too much interference from somewhere, and I can't actually open the connection."

"What's causing it?"

There was an uncomfortable pause, as the girls locked eyes one more time. "The ghost?" Serena floated. Lisa took a deep breath. "Hang on..." Her eyes drifted back to the flip-up monitor of her machine. "I'll run a diagnostic." She manoeuvred the deck's mouse and double-clicked a button in the window and out popped a cutesy cartoon web developer character with a pencil behind his ear, who fiddled with a calculator for a few seconds before shaking its head, and displaying an error message and making Serena groan. "Its saying it can't find anything out." She said, sounding at once, disappointed and nervous.

"Hang on." Lisa leaned in, and extended an index finger towards the GUI, towards a list of suggestions right below the little character. "It's saying you might be able to get less interference with a physical connection..." The two of them looked away from the machine and locked eyes again, and they both looked very anxious. Physically connecting to the mainframe meant, first of all needing to FIND the mainframe... Both pairs of eyes looked over towards the corridor that, when they'd came in, had been on their left, the splash of light from Lisa's cell phone flashlight diffusing about ten feet infront of her, and Serena's low light vision failing to pierce the gloom that, it was looking like they'd need to explore.

Serena irritably sighed, closing the screen on her cyberdeck, and standing up and slinging it over her shoulder. Wordlessly, she undid the buttons on her leather jacket, revealing the black turtleneck - and gunbelt - underneath. She'd really been hoping that she could just park her meat body in the foyer and finish the mission from there, but it looked like life had other plans...

"Serena?..."

"Yeah?..."

"Don't get scared, but..."

Serena just took a deep breath. "But what?"

"I can't shake the feeling we're being watched."

She paused in her tracks, and Lisa nearly walked right into her - and that probably would have made them both panic. Serena shook her head, and looked over her shoulder, catching Lisa's nervous expression, mirrored by the tense look she wore. "That's probably the worst thing you could have said." She responded, letting her thoughts fall out of her mouth.

Lisa didn't have a good response to that, and after a short, nervous pause, the two of them kept going forwards, though the musty richly decorated, and pitch-black halls of Schwarzwalder Manor, on the hunt for the mainframe. They figured the ground floor was the best place to look - mainframes were a as a rule, too gigantic to move up a flight of stairs. Serena, being taller, more brawny, and danger being her job, was the one in front, while Lisa stayed right behind her, holding onto her cell with one slightly shaky hand, cutting into the gloom with a small cone and casting great, black shadows whenever it met a pillar or vase and leaving ample space for both girls' imaginations to run wild.

"How do you know someone's watching us?..." Serena asked, dispelling the silence, but speaking quietly and with a great deal of thought; so as not to alert anyone... Listening in.

There was a few more tense seconds of silence before Lisa flatly said, "I can't really explain it." Another pause, as they crept forwards. "Do you believe in the paranormal, Serena?" Three months ago, she would have answered 'no.'

"I think there's a lot of phenomena modern science can't explain." Serena found herself saying. Certain events in her life, while not technically classifiable as 'paranormal' activity, nonetheless forced her to reevaluate her opinions on what was real and what wasn't.

"Well." Lisa continued. "My grandmother told me once that, if you concentrate, you can feel if someone's got their eyes on you."

"What, was she a witch?" Serena cracked a smile and replied with a sarcastic tone, masking the tension and nervousness she was feeling. To her surprise, though, Lisa just shook her head and looked like she'd taken the question seriously.

"Not really, but she was..." Her tone perked up a tiny bit, the good memories helping her momentarily forget they were skulking around an abandoned mansion, looking for a rogue and probably malevolent artificial intelligence. "Kind of weird. She had a lot of weird books, too - real ones."

"What, paper books?" Serena asked, as the two of them slowly went around a corner, as Serena turned away to look over her shoulder.

"Yeah!" Lisa sounded quite proud of that. "Paper books. From before The Crash, all about paranormal stu- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!"

Lisa froze up as she rounded the corner, and Serena, shaken and snapping into action turned forwards and found herself reflexively jumping back, not quite screaming as loud as Lisa had been - who had dropped her phone flashlight-up on the carpet, and was trying to scurry away. Barely visible in the splash, a silvery, armoured man came into view, towering over the both of them, casting a great black shadow onto the ceiling and holding a sword tightly in his metal hand.

Serena nearly had a panic attack, and, sidearm having found itself in her hand, nearly filled it with a magazine's worth of holes, but at the last moment, the logical part of her mind kicked into gear and stayed her hand, as she made two critical realizations.

One. The man wasn't moving. In fact, he was facing ninety degrees away from them, stoically looked at the wall on Serena's left-hand side, and the reason he'd been towering above them was because he was standing on a slightly raised podium.

Two. It'd taken a second for Serena to realize it, and when she did... An embarrassed smile came onto her face. She was face to... Pauldron with a medieval knight, clad in full plate, glimmering in the splash of Lisa's torch and Serena just needed to catch her breath as the adrenaline slowly subsided and her handgun began to slowly lower. As she returned the weapon to her holster, Serena began to tittle a bit, and soon broke into full-on, belly-aching laughter, violently forcing out the tension from her body.

Lisa, from around the corner, had gone from scared and panicking to confused - and a bit indignant. "What's so funny?!"

"It's a knight statue!" Serena responded, pointing towards their armoured 'assailant', and Lisa's expression changed again she crept back around the corner to duck down and pick up her cell, turning into a whirlwind of emotion, but predominantly disappointed. We just got scared by the oldest trick in the book..." Serena added, before erupting into laughter again.

"Is the sword..." Lisa, catching some of Serena's infectious attitude, found a small, nervous smile coming onto her face. "Even real?"

"Does it really matter?" Serena responded, a bit giggly and a bit cocky. "It can't move."

The both of them froze. Well... Serena took a deep breath, the cocksure mood fading as quickly as it came, as she moved over towards the front of the statue, looking up at the stoic, forlorn-looking armoured man. As far as she knew, it couldn't move, but...

Slowly, Serena extended her hand out, and put her thumb up to the blade, touching the edge with her finger, and almost immediately recoiling back and violently swore and pulled her hand away, as Lisa's eyes went wide in shock - and disbelief.

"What did you do that for?..."

"It's... Er..." Serena looked down at her thumb, a red line slowly appearing on the fingerprint and slowly beginning to disgorge blood, and at that Serena quickly pulled her gaze away, back over towards the knight. "Well, you know how you check your knives for sharpness?"

"No, I don't." She raised an eyebrow. "Do you really use your thumb?"

"Yeah, I do..." Serena just put the thumb into her palm and took a step away from the knight, a grave look on her face. "The sword's real." She said. "And very sharp..." She investigated the statue a bit more, obviously staying well-away from the blade. Neither of them were willing to outright say the 'H' word, but a few cursory pokes with the muzzle of her handgun seemed to prove that it was inanimate... If that could mean 'not haunted.'

Of course, the statue was way heavier than an empty suit of armour ought to be. Even Serena's enhanced muscles could barely make it budge, and when she tried to take off the helmet - just to be sure - she found it was very, very tightly secured.

"Maybe it's the sort of thing you buy to scare house-guests?..." Serena tried to crack a joke. It didn't do much to dispel the tension, and, she took a deep breath, and kept going, Lisa dutifully following her down the shadow-cloaked hallways, lighting the way, and, Serena tried to silence the uncomfortable, nagging little voice in her head wondering what actual purpose the swords had...

Breaking focus, for just a second, she quickly looked over at her hand, turning the thumb up towards her eyes. There was still a bit of dried-on vitae, which, with a lick of the tongue, Serena quickly removed, revealing her pristine thumbprint underneath, and Serena took a deep sigh. The cut had healed. Faster than she'd expected. It was only a small cut, so, it would be easier to explain, but it could certainly lead to some awkward questions, and she was very thankful Lisa couldn't see in the darkness like she could.

Neither of them spoke very much on their way through the musty, shadow-cloaked halls of Schwarzwalder manor. The two of them passed by several more knight statues, standing sternly at attention, armour and swords glimmering menacingly in the glow of Lisa's flashlight. Neither of them were as frightened as they'd been on finding the first one, but the knights' presence still put them both on edge. Their steps got just a bit more cautious, their breaths became just a bit more deep, their eyes looked just a bit more restless, and Serena's found one hand tightly gripping the strap of her cyberdeck, and the other resting on her gunbelt.

Eventually, they passed through a massive dining room, where the neatly-set arrangement of plates and glassware and an entire finishing school's worth of cutlery were gathering an impressive, yet apprehension-inducing layer of dust, and made their way to the kitchen. By contrast, this part of the house looked dishevelled and untidy, with pots, pans, and more knives than even Serena was comfortable seeing strewn every which way.

Neither her or Lisa could - or wanted to - dwell too long on that, however. Dividing the kitchen from the dining room was a long hallway, and, as they approached, Serena could feel her heart pick up in pitch as they a faint, glow come into view as they stepped in, halfway between the kitchen and the dining hall and looking down, locked in place.

It was the first light they'd seen coming from the manor itself. A dim, eerie purple glow crept in about halfway down the hall, streaming out from a set of open double doors, spilling out into the carpet and the wallpaper. A chill went up Serena's spine, and she took a deep breath. "Do you think the light switch we tried was just broken?" She asked.

There was a long, nervous pause before Lisa responded, "Lets' see..." and stepped into the kitchen, searching for just a bit but eventually finding and flicking a light switch that... Also failed to create any luminescence. Neither of them said anything as Lisa came back out, adjusting her hat, but they both said a lot with the nervous expressions they wore.

"They could all be broken?..." Lisa said, trying to mask the trepidation in her voice with a bit of levity, and didn't do it very well.

"Lets' go, then..." Serena just took a deep breath, and made her way down the hall, a resolute, but tense look on her face, leaving the alternative unspoken. The room, halfway down the hall, filled with a dim, purple glow may have once been a large ballroom, with elegant, plaster-covered columns holding up an ornate vaulted ceiling. There clearly hadn't been any balls here for years, however; Serena could see mounting points in the ceiling where a pair of chandeliers had once been, and in their place, a legion of dim, fluorescent lamps showered an array of messy, disused office desks, covered in dust and knick-knacks and bits of what probably used to be computer terminals. All the while, an eldritch, violet glow slowly pulsed and flickered and made the shadows dance and jump with it.

Flanking the door, watching over the ballroom, were another pair of knight statues, weapons and armour shimmering in the purple glow and making Serena and Lisa look a bit uncomfortable. Against the far wall, dominating the room, and immediately catching the eye however, was what they had been looking for. This was where the mainframe was stored. It was impossible to mistake the massive slab for anything else. It was a gigantic, menacing black-shelled array of computing power that blinked in a chorus of red lights, and hummed with the sound of myriad calculations and computations, an orchestra in the medium of silicon and gold. The mainframe array was clearly the focal point of the room, and was easily a whole head and a half taller than Serena was.

"Are you..." Lisa broke the silence and took a deep breath. "Getting a bad feeling from this?"

Serena, could only laugh a bit to herself and give her red-haired companion a weird look. "I am now." she replied. It wasn't helped by the way the mainframe seemed to... Respond to her approach. It had to be her nerves, Serena mused, because why else would the machine's humming seem get more and more intense as she got closer, louder and more... Rough. More menacing. It sounded like a tiger, growling at her, warning her to stay away... Serena just took a deep breath of the musty air. No. She mused. It just had to be her imagination running wild. She let loose another nervous laugh. She must be tired, Serena mused. Or still a bit drunk.

"Help me find a port on this thing." Serena said, placing her cyberdeck down on one of the closer desks, and scanning the machine with her red eyes, trying to find someplace for her connecting cable to plug into. Mainframes were a sort of computer Serena wasn't too familiar with. They were rare. After The Crash proved the vulnerability of centralized computing, most organizations were reluctant to store all their data on a single machine. If something went wrong with this single, critical piece of computing equipment, then you'd have a major disaster on your hands. Which, Serena mused, not finding it very funny, was what had happened.

Even the smallest organizations ran on three computers: two to balance the processing load, and a spare. Bathrette Beautronics had literally tens of thousands of machines comprising their matrix infrastructure in just their headquarters - and possibly, almost a million worldwide. Even the most green computer science grad knew not to put all your eggs in one basket. Serena really couldn't help but let her mind wander, wondering exactly why WalderSoft, or Walder Bros, whatever it was called, would have let themselves be vulnerable like this. A chill went up her spine. She wanted to look at this positively, but still couldn't suppress the thought of this having been done purposefully.

"I found a port over on this side." Lisa said, her tone just a bit... Antsy, the tension getting to the both of them. Serena quickly got to work, laying out her cyberdeck out on a disused, dust-covered desk and instructing Lisa to fish out a series of cables and adapters from her bag of tricks. Soon enough, with only a bit of fuss, Serena's cyberdeck was plugged in, and, flipping the monitor up, she felt a simultaneous feeling of relief and apprehension wash over her. Relieved, because the networking application was showing all green. No interference. She could jack in at her leisure. Apprehension, because... She just let a nervous laugh out into the musty air. Now, she actually HAD to connect her brain to the computer... No excuses...

"Here you go." Lisa said, handing over the trodes, a silvery diadem-like device that plugged into Serena's deck, and fit snugly over her head, and she took a deep breath, feeling the metallic, wireless thought-connectors brush up against her temples, the coldness sending a shiver down her spine. A thought-interface device. A marvel of modern technology that allowed you to control a computer with your thoughts, but as the somewhat worried expression on Lisa's face reminded her, it wasn't without its risks. Exposing your mind to a computer had its dangers; plenty of hackers had their brains fried after digging too deep and uncovering something that somebody - and their ICE - would rather have stayed hidden... "Good luck..." She added, and Serena took another deep breath, as she began to initialize the connection.

"Hopefully I won't need to be lucky." She said, tone flat and matter of fact. "Keep an eye on the screen." Serena hit the enter key, took a deep breath, and tried to relax as, with what felt like a jolt, the computer took hold, a haunting, familiar sense of weightlessness coming over her, vision fading out as her sensory organs were temporarily superseded by what the computer began telling them to see, hear, and feel, and a pulse going through her mind, like an egg cracking on her psyche. Her eyes went black, and she was in.

She wasn't alone in here.

That was the first thing Serena realized as her avatar loaded into the WalderSoft mainframe. It was difficult to explain. It felt like a change in the air pressure. Or maybe she was picking up a bit of the internet equivalent of radio static. Either way, if there were any hairs on the back of her virtual neck, they'd be standing on end right now. It couldn't be anything but the... Serena's avatar took a reflexive breath of virtual air. The Ghost.

On instinct, Serena found a word of power escaping her lips. A panel of light flickered into existence infront of her face. A quick user-list program that would, in a normal server, display a list of every user currently online. All that was appearing in Serena's, however, was static. With a shake of her head and a word of dismissal she closed the program, the panel fading, but not before a sudden rash of worry. She must have been imagining it, but didn't the words "GET OUT" appear a few times in the static?

No... Serena shook her head. She couldn't lose her nerve now. Focus on the job, she told herself. Focus. The inside of the WalderSoft Mainframe was... Oddly familiar, and it took a second for Serena to connect the dots. She was back in the mainframe room! This place was a dead ringer for Schwarzwalder Manor!

Of course, it wasn't a one-to-one digitized copy. How a computer's architecture is 'displayed' to a thought interface user need not be bound by the conventions of reality. To Serena's eye, the digitized version of the manor felt... Odd. She reflexively tugged at her virtual collar. The word 'haunted' crept into her mind again. What her mind immediately focused on was the light - a fierce, purple glow, from dozens of braziers. The whole mainframe room was filled with eerie, violet fire, dominated the mainframe room, and, in the glow, Serena thought it looked... Broken.

Its equivalent in the real world looked merely abandoned, but this virtual replica looked like a... Serena laughed nervously to herself. Like a vengeful spirit had torn through it, tearing massive gouges in the walls, crushing the chandeliers into a million silvery fragments, and throwing the desks and chairs all over and reducing them to piles of scrap. Serena took a breath of virtual air and stepped forwards, carefully around piles of debris, towards the exit, out into the hall - where the virtual doors looked as though something had torn them off their hinges, and she paused for a moment to look down at herself.

On the internet, you can look like whatever you want, but Serena's virtual representation was the one she'd been using at work a few hours ago. It was neat and professional and looked like a simpler, cartoony representation of her real-life self, with large, blood-red eyes. (And not the dull blue of her birth, which her avatar had before. It was a recent alteration; Serena didn't like reminding herself of the change.) On her head, she had a simplified version of her short, dark hairdo, and Virtual Serena was dressed for a day at the office instead of a day combating rogue programs. She was clad in a pair of black slacks and a matching black waistcoat, and dress shoes. with a white dress shirt and a black and red-striped necktie underneath. A computer didn't have a temperature, but a human instinct in her made her wish she had a sweater; it felt oddly cold.

Wanting a better sense of her surroundings, Serena tried loading up a few navigation programs as she exited into the hall. First, she tried the most powerful, speaking into being an "Extrasensory perception" program that would allow her to see through walls... And turned it off just as quickly, her virtual eyes filling with violent static and a deafening, industrial screech like grinding machinery filling her ears. After it was gone, Serena found her avatar down on it's knees, clutching her head in pain, and her virtual eyes went wide in shock. That... Hadn't ever happened before.

With some trepidation, she tried booting up a less powerful program - an automatic map, but like with her earlier attempts with the list of users, the glowing panel it created infront of her head just displayed static, though, it thankfully didn't assault her. However, when Serena booted up her third choice, a motion tracking program that could display the movement of users and programs around her, her eyes lit up in pleasant surprise. It was working just fine: no static, just the usual white grid on a blue, translucent panel.

That surprise soon turned to worry, and a chill went up the back of her virtual neck as, she saw a faint, glowing red dot in the upper right hand corner, which soon started flickering, pulsing, and then suddenly swelled in size and glowed like an angry sun, before, as with the others, the whole motion tracker burst into static, and Serena quickly dismissed it with a command and a wave and took a deep breath. The panel disappeared into the code, as a curse escaped her lips, and on instinct, she weaved into existence a program of protection, encapsulating her avatar in a glowing blue barrier. Serena felt a knot form in her virtual stomach. The ghost - it had to be - definitely knew she was here now.

A string of unladylike profanity left Serena's mouth as she sprung into action, breaking into a sprint down the corridor, contemplating a plan of attack. The terror had now been replaced by adrenaline, and her panic replaced by an instinctive, drilled response that Commander Sikorski of the Bathrette Special Asset Protection Squad would have been proud of. As Serena ran down the hall, stepping around piles of debris, the wheels in her mind turned as she wondered how best to combat this ghost.

It definitely knew where she was. Serena clenched her virtual teeth as she passed another scene of destruction in the kitchen. Subtlety wasn't an option anymore, and there was a very real chance she was running right into an fight. She paused as she turned towards the entrance to the grand dining room, where the massive table had been split in half by some savage blow, the right-hand side of the room was dominated by a series of tall, ornate windows, outside of which a monstrous storm raged, digital rain battering down relentlessly down on the virtual glass.

Serena uttered two words of power right after another. In her left hand, a ball of fire flared into existence, burning with energy, and in her right, a ball of lightning flickered into being, seething with power. Fire ball and lightning bolt programs. Both fairly strong attacks. A weak ICE would be blown apart in one hit. Even a stronger one would be left reeling. Normally, Serena would have felt secure, but she reminded herself this wasn't an ordinary ICE program whose domain she was intruding on. Still, the best defence was (probably) a good offence, and a resolute look came onto Serena's face as she stepped into the ruined dining room. If this ghost was going to pick a fight, she'd make sure it ate one hell of an opening salvo.

Attack programs at the ready, Serena stepped through the doorway, diligently checking around corners and feeling a slight pang of relief when all she could see was her own shadow in the purple glow. Her mind was awash with stories, rumours, and legends she'd heard about from all over the Matrix, about powerful ghosts, and those rare few who'd survived an encounter with one. Matrix lore had described these malevolent, self-aware, ludicrously powerful programs as amazing and terrible to behold.

Serena took a deep breath. Almost every newbie heard the legends of the so-called "Gods of the net." Magnanimously powerful and wilful programs, divine - or demonic - in their countenance, who manipulated the fabric of the internet with mere thoughts. Fighting one was like trying to stand against a storm. A mighty enough sentient program could bend even the strongest of wills to their command, and there were always rumours of those who had, indeed, set themselves up as literal gods. They were spoken of in hushed tones, describing the profane rituals of their worshippers, hungry for power and knowledge. An uncomfortable feeling settled in Serena's virtual stomach as she trod over a digital bit of splintered wood, her hands feeling a twitch, attack programs at the ready-

"What are you looking for?" Came a voice from behind, and Serena's eyes shot wide in panic and she nearly loosed her attack programs. She swiftly turned around, terror turning to confusion as she saw, standing in the doorway a half-dozen paces away, a young blonde girl, wearing an expression on her face somewhere between perplexed and annoyed.

For the briefest of moments, Serena found her emotions calming down, cooling off, relieved, almost. She'd been half-expecting some demonic and terrible thing to be jump at her!- Her eyes widened, she took a step back, and a deadly chill set into her virtual bones. She was looking at a teenage girl. A program rendered in a cartoony style like her own avatar, with flowing blonde hair and soft, ocean-blue eyes, clad in the sort of ornate, long, flowing blue dress with puffy sleeves that looked typical of the upper-crust. But that wasn't what Serena knew was standing before her. In the real world, things may be different, but Serena wasn't there. Her mind was connected with the WalderSoft mainframe, and... She took a deep breath. She was face to face with a ghost.

"I..." Serena stammered and an awkward smile crossed her face. She locked up, unsure of what to think or what to do. A nerve-wracking apprehension washed over her, like she'd sat under the Sword of Damocles, and that one wrong move would bring it crashing down onto her. "Who are you?" She found herself asking - more on instinct than logic, and an awkward look came into Serena's eyes the moment it escaped her lips and she instantly regretted it.

The ghost shot her a weird, almost suspicious look as she crossed her arms, and Serena wondered if she'd made the wrong move. "Father always said I shouldn't give my name out to strangers."

Thinking quickly, Serena found herself reasoning brashness wouldn't work here, and tried to pull a bit of charm. She put on her best, most sincere smile and found herself saying, "Well, do we need to be strangers, then?" The ghost just shot her an odd look. "I'm Serena." She introduced herself, taking a step forward. "And I don't see why we have to be-"

"Enemies?" The ghost shot her a glare. "I was thinking that - and you were too, from the weapons you're holding.

Serena's eyes went wide in surprise, looking down into her palms, and, thinking quickly, putting them behind her back and letting loose an unconvincing laugh. "It was a bit... Instinctive." She admitted. "But really, I don't want to fight, if I can help it."

"Well..." The ghost took a step closer, the air around them getting a touch more tense, the purple fires in the lanterns lining the walls getting a touch brighter, and the twitching feeling in Serena's virtual hands behind her back getting worse. "I guess we could talk, but that depends."

"On what?"

"On who you are." The ghost drew even closer, and Serena took in a deep breath of air. "If you really want to be... acquaintances..." She let that hang in the air for a while. "Then you can call me Anabel." The ghost introduced herself, with a short, proper curtsy, and a wry smile that made Serena's digital blood turn to ice. "And now it's your turn." Anabel leaned in towards Serena, coming in face-to-face, standing up on her tippy-toes as she bored directly into her soul with those icy, blue eyes of hers, and Serena tried to step away, and her hands twitched behind her back. "You're going to tell me what you're here for. You're saying you want to talk, but..." Anabel extended one of her hands, and pointed to the attack programs, ready to fire, behind Serena's back, her expression turning more serious. "You look like you're ready for trouble... Finding, or starting?"

"Err..." The expression on Serena's face turned very uneasy, and her mind locked up a bit. How do you explain to a sentient, possibly malevolent, doubtlessly powerful, obviously irritated program that you were there to kick it out of the system it's on? Serena took a reflexive gulp of the virtual air and said, "Really, I'm just here to talk-"

"Who sent you." Anabel cut her off, her tone harsh and inquisitive, and Serena's had a very nervous look in her red eyes, finding maintaining eye contact... Difficult.

"Well..." She tried to buy a bit of time while she thought of something to say. There was a palatable feeling of danger in the air, like she'd strolled into a minefield, and one wrong move meant disaster.

"Well, what!?" Anabel snapped, turning impatient, and Serena took a deep breath and found she had no good ideas and decided maybe honesty was the best policy.

"Well," Serena took a deep breath. "I'm here on behalf of Mr. Schwarzwalder, of WalderSoft, and he wants to know if-"

The rope holding The Sword snapped. Serena's leg went into the wrong spot. Honesty was NOT the right policy. From the digital heavens a bolt of lightning struck down outside the window, briefly turning night into day and casting great, black shadows into the dining room, the windows exploded inwards from the sonic boom, sending showers of virtual glass cascading around them. Serena recoiled and finally pulled her arms back infront of her to momentarily block her virtual eyes, as the purple flames in the lanterns erupted in an inferno, and infront of her, as she opened her eyes, Anabel's expression turned infernally angry, vindictive, barely constrained fury ready to explode and unleash itself on the black-haired hacker, who was gradually inching herself away, especially after she'd noticed the two sickly-green fireballs that had appeared in Anabel's hands like attack programs.

"You and I have nothing to discuss." Anabel harshly declared, a vengeful look in her blue eyes, glowing like beacons, her long, flowing hair and her dress began to shake and wave, carried by a sudden gust of virtual wind through the broken windows. "I'll tell you the same thing I told the rest of Uncle Hollace's goons." She said, her tone homicidal and vicious and rapidly increasing in tempo and intensity, and Serena took another step back. "This mainframe belongs to me. The company belongs to me. It's secrets belong to me. It is not his. I will not allow him to steal it. Now get out, before I lose my patience with you and END YOUR EXISTENCE!" She screamed, so loudly that the flames in the lanterns briefly sputtered out into purple embers, and the torrential downpour briefly paused, cowed by the wrath of this virtual realm's master.

"Wait!" Serena tried to plea, raising her hand, stammering a bit, talking without thinking, and saying, "Anabel, I really don't want any trouble here. I'll go after we're done talking, but-" And an ear-curdling scream of rage cut her off, and Serena' red eyes went wide as she Anabel lunged towards her, attack programs in hand.

"I AM DONE!" She yelled out."DEFEND YOURSELF!" She yelled out, and Serena's instincts kicked into action and shew threw herself out of the way, a panicked scream escaping her mouth as, just before she could fly loose with her opening salvo, Anabel pulled her arms back and threw them forwards and sent a twin burst of green flame towards her. Quick thinking kept her from behind destroyed outright, pivoting from attack to defence, managing to narrowly avoid one of the fireballs, but not the second one, and it exploded into a shower of coruscating viridian flame, melting the protective aegis of her ward and throwing her backwards with a scream.

With a bit of cat-like Matrix finesse, Serena was able to land right back on her virtual feet and hit back, throwing fire and lightning at the approaching, wrathful ghost, yelling out, "What's with you?!" Tone halfway between shocked and angry.

"You hired goons are all the same!" Anabel charged forwards, murder in her eyes and vicious in her countenance. The ghost had managed to quickly dodge Serena's fireball, but the bolt of lightning managed to strike home, blasting her square in the chest and sending her to the floor. But, to Serena's dismay, she pulled herself right back up, smoke coming off her virtual form and pressing her attack, Serena having succeeded, at least, at making her even madder, and Serena pulled back as her arm seemed to ripple and melt like molten metal, and reform itself into the blade of a massive, double-edged broadsword from the elbow down, and Anabel lashed out with a vicious overhead slash and yelled, "You all think you're freaking invincible, and can do whatever the hell you want!"

Serena only barely managed to dodge her attack in time, time, jumping backwards towards the door, quickly weighing up whether it would be better to stand and fight or put some distance between them, and quickly opting for the latter: Offence hadn't been quite as effective so far as she'd hoped. She'd switched gears, running back into the hallway and speaking aloud a word of power, and, as Anabel charged in, sword arm held back, Serena extended her hand, and, to Anabel's surprise, threw a ball of golden light from her palm that, as it closed the distance with Anabel, erupted into a flailing miasma of golden chains that wrapped themselves around her attacker and, despite a swing of the sword, managed to immobilize her and giving Serena a few precious seconds to disappear down the corridors of the virtual manor.

Anabel looked surprised for a moment, but, it quickly turned to anger and focus, as she closed her eyes, working herself into a frenzied storm of anger and vindictiveness and struggling for a few seconds before loosing a hellish scream, throwing off the chains as they shattered into a million golden pieces and dashing into the hall, sword at the ready, and screaming out in pain as a hail of virtual bullets blasted into her flesh, spilling streams of ones and zeroes into the air around them.

Further down the hall, Serena had used the precious time she'd bought with her hold program to execute a weapon of her own: Her right arm had turned into a massive, six-barrelled rotary machine gun that could put a storm of lead down range, and, Serena felt a twinge of satisfaction. It looked like the ghost couldn't quite dodge bullets, now could she? It was a short-lived satisfaction, however, as Anabel quickly sprung back into action, ignoring the holes in her virtual corpus and thundering back towards Serena once more with an expression of killing anger on her face, and, feeling the tempo shift, Serena pulled back and dismissed the unwieldy heavy weapon, and threw up another ward program, anticipating another violent blow - and her eyes went wide as Anabel flashed a wicked smile.

The ghost reached out her hand and fired, from her fingertips, a missile of green acid that Serena quickly dodged - right into the path of Anabel's sword. She tried twisting her body to avoid the blow, but Anabel's ghostly blade cut right through her like hydraulic shears through an old car, tearing out a massive chunk of her left shoulder, pain flashing through her virtual being like napalm, and she screamed out in agony, and Anabel laughed, with vindictive, vengeful glee.

The pain was both sobering and terrifying and a switch in Serena's mind flipped, shock and surprise giving way to alarm. She wasn't exactly a stranger to netbattling, but Anabel's power and speed was giving her pause, and she seemed to be made of some fairly sturdy stuff. She was all in on the attack, throwing herself at Serena like some vicious, demonic force had possessed the girl and was ordering her to kill, kill, kill, and that she'd need to change her approach if she was going to stand up to her.

Serena decided to stall, again, and pulled back and gritted her teeth and with a wave of her arm, divided the hallway neatly in two with a translucent wall of pink glass, her and Anabel on separate sides, and Serena bolted, retreating as fast as she could down the corridor, trying to think up a way she could turn this around. From behind her, Anabel screamed out in rage, and, her ears were filled with a sickening cracking sound as Anabel threw her sword against the glass, viciously striking it, sending shards of pink careening towards the carpet before finally breaking the wall down completely and throwing herself forwards-

-Directly into the path of a missile of jagged ice, the projectile exploding into a howling blizzard and momentarily obscuring Serena's view of the malevolent ghost, and she took a deep breath and allowed herself a very short sigh of relief, and, parking herself right by a corner, summoned up another weapon program. A chant, a word of power, and Serena's arm warped and melted and changed form into a large, boxy rocket launcher, the blizzard beginning to fade about the time she'd zeroed the sights, and a figure from within began to stride out, barrelling towards her.

Anabel looked worse for wear, her digitized form still covered in ice and just a bit frayed at the edges, but her expression still burned with resentment and vengeance and hatred, and she let loose a war cry as she bounded down the halls, sword ready to strike, and Serena let loose a salvo of missiles, swearing viciously as none of them hit home - two missed, and the remaining four, Anabel had managed to bisect in the air as they travelled, twin pieces falling harmlessly to the floor and dissolving into the code, and the ghost flashed a vicious smile and Serena just went around the corridor completely and broke out into a sprint.

The ghost was trailing steadily behind her now and gradually closing the distance, firing off a volley of fireballs towards Serena. Two of which, she'd barely been able to dodge. A third she'd managed to deflect with her own ward programs, but the last one struck home and blasted off another piece of her avatar, and she'd just barely been able to avoid tripping. A panicked expression came in Serena's eyes, and, she realized, she was beginning to have doubts as to whether or not she could win... At the very least, she realized, eyes focusing on Anabel's outstretched sword, she would need to slow her down, and she'd need to bring out the big guns...

Anabel threw out a beam of acrid, pink neon light and Serena managed to dispel with her ward, while, with her free hand, she sprung into a counterattack. First, she'd thrown out another fireball, and, Anabel had rather effortlessly plowed right through it with a shield, the attack exploding harmlessly out infront of her, but occupying her attention for just the second Serena needed for her second program to trap her, warping the very digital landscape itself as grasping, malignant creeper vines and vicious, spiked, man-eating plants grew out from the walls and carpet under Anabel's feet, but, to her shock, she just laughed and started tearing into the foliage with her blade. The plants fought back, madly grasping and tearing into her and they did manage to slow Anabel for the moment, but she soon cut herself free and continued the pursuit.

Serena, meanwhile, had found herself in the virtual manor's foyer, at the end of the corridor, but didn't bother to look around and quickly made for the stairs, hatching a plan as her eyes were drawn up to the doorway. However, before she could even step up, Anabel, right on her heels, breached into the room and charged at her, bringing her sword arm down, but, Serena acted quickly and with a word of power and a gesture, a conjuration program burst into existence, a midnight black, monstrous virtual wolf erupting from Serena's hand, frothing at the mouth as it pounced towards her adversary.

For the moment, Serena thought she might've done it, but, as she turned to the stairs, to her shock, she'd found an empty space and a portal hanging up halfway up the wall, and, to her left, Anabel had, after a brief struggle, managed to overcome the wolf, and cleaved it neatly in twain with a mighty swing of her blade. The program made a soft whimper as its two halves fell to the floor and dissolved into ones and zeroes, leaving Anabel and Serena face to face, the ghost covered in scratches and bite marks and slobber with a murderously angry look on her face, matched by a panicked expression on Serena's.

She'd intended to sprint up the stairs and spring an ambush from the second floor, but, with the stairs having spontaneously disappeared, Serena just decided to keep running into the Eastern wing of the manor, but when she turned around, her eyes went wide, and she froze, and she swore, because where the portal was, a moment ago, there was nothing but a brick wall, and taking a deep breath, she turned back towards Anabel, the ghost's sword at the ready, and a vengeful look in her eyes.

"Were you trying to run?" She taunted, A terrible, vindictive smile forming on her face, an expression of revenge coming to fruition. "This is my server. I am the master here, and it does what I tell it to do." Serena, reflexively, took a step back, and a lump formed in her throat as she felt the brush of the brickwork against her virtual body, and a grim, leaden feeling came over her, and she took a breath, recognizing that terrible, sinking feeling in her stomach, as Anabel pulled her sword arm back and positioned herself on her leg to pounce. It was all too familiar. That terrible, sinking feeling in your stomach, desperation in the back of your mind, regret in the side of your heart feeling of knowing you were about to- "NOW DIE!"

Anabel thrust the point of her blade forwards, towards Serena's neck, but, suddenly, a cloud of smoke flashed into existence, blinding her, but fading as quickly as it came as she felt the sword bite home, and Anabel's expression suddenly turned shocked as she saw her blade a foot deep in the brickwork, finding herself utterly perplexed for a moment, before looking around the room, confusion turning to violent frustration as she spotted a small, cartoony looking bat with blood red eyes flying through the room. Anabel quickly connected the dots and yelled out, "Oh, you freaking coward!" as she, with a brief struggle, pulled the blade free and twisted the shape of the arm into a vicious-looking mechanical repeating crossbow.

Serena wasn't in the mood (or shape, for that matter) to argue, and quickly made her escape, batty wings flapping like she was fleeing the hounds of hell and deftly avoiding blasts of fire and hails of bolts from Anabel below, and she dived into the portal to the second floor, where the staircase had been before Anabel banished it, breaking line of sight as a burst of lightning fried the space she'd been in just a moment before.

She dismissed the shapechange program, and another cloud of smoke came and went and Serena landed onto the carpet with her two feet, sprinting a dozen paces into the hall and turning back around, gritting her teeth. Eyes focused squarely on the archway that led back into the foyer, Serena focused her mind and chanted a long and complex string of commands, seconds passing by, feeling like hours, until, finally, a wave of pressure seemed to burst and a glowing, white-hot meteorite appeared in Serena's right palm, and a wiry, desperate smile came onto her face just as Anabel leaped up into the portal like a hungry shark erupting from the ocean depths... Into the sights of a shotgun.

For an instant, everything seemed to be still, Anabel hovering in the air, repeating crossbow in her left arm and a burning, seething ball of green, sickly flame in her right hand, the ghost and the hacker locking eyes for that moment, before Serena threw the meteorite, the force of the attack nearly knocking her off her feet, the ball of incandescent rock erupting into white-hot light as, spiralling towards Anabel, it suddenly turned into a swarm of blazing comets that trailed with a blue and white glow, and Serena caught Anabel's icy eyes going wide in fear for the first time she'd known.

There had been no time to dodge or block the attack before it struck, exploding into a supernova of blinding, ultraviolet light and ultraviolet heat, a horrifying, agonizing scream of pain and fury at being denied coming from behind Serena as, wisely, she broke out into a sprint the moment she'd fired off her attack program. The most powerful one she'd had... And the colour drained from her digital face as she looked over her shoulder and found Anabel, smoking, kneeling, visibly frayed and damaged but no less viciously angry, and beginning to pull herself off the floor, and Serena ran even faster, clenching her teeth.

That comet swarm was the most powerful attack program in her arsenal. She'd spent a small fortune getting her hands on it, and had only used it once before; destroying a whole swarm of the nastiest, most vicious Black ICE on the net... Anabel was still kicking. Still... Serena took a deep breath. It had hit her, and probably bought Serena a few precious seconds. That was a small mercy.

Serena quickly found herself in a T-shaped junction in the hallway, and on instinct made a sharp left turn while summoning a cloud acidic, flesh-eating fog to block the intersection. That would... Hopefully buy a few more moments. Serena breathed in deeply as she ran, wondering how the hell she could keep going. Those WERE the big guns. She wondered what exactly she could do, and found her gaze drifting down, at herself, and shivered. Her avatar was, by now, mostly patchwork. Anabel's attacks had torn several huge chunks off her body, and, by now, she was looking very ragged. Anabel had, the last time she'd seen, looked much worse for wear, but she could definitely keep going longer than Serena could, and she couldn't afford to keep trading blows like this. An uncomfortable, eerie feeling came over her as she wondered how much more she could take, her heart sinking as she realized just how thin and frayed at the edges her avatar was getting. One more good hit, she darkly realized, and she'd either be dead or so badly wounded it was a sure thing.

Serena felt her heart sink. She had started a bit torn as to whether to try to escape or to see if she could finish Anabel off, but that sealed it. There was the distinct possibility, she mused, that she could still get a leg up over Anabel and overpower her, but that burning, driving urge for self-preservation overruled it. Only a very lucky trick had let her escape death, and she had a feeling Anabel wouldn't fall for the same trick twice. Right now, she had to escape, which was easier said than done.

Serena ducked into a side room, escaping into some sort of study, a lightning bolt from the window outside briefly lighting up a disused, torn up mess of office furniture, computer equipment, and data-files. First, she summoned up a repair program, mending some of the holes and gashes torn into her avatar. She took a deep breath. Hopefully that was enough to keep her going, just in case.

Next, she spoke aloud a command word and initialized the exit program. An old fashioned, folding hand telephone materialized in her hand. It was a dual-purpose program. She could use it to log off the matrix, sever the connection between her mind and the computer, and "boot" back into reality, but it was also a telephone, and she could use it to speak to her navigator - and right now, with a murderous ghost hot on her heels, the prospect of hearing her friend's voice was like honey of the mind.

"Lisa!..." Serena spoke into the digital phone, leaning up against the wall, catching her virtual breath. "This mission's gone completely FUBAR! I'm gonna log off, so-!" Her eyes went wide as the phone exploded into a burst of static, and Serena flinched and pulled it away from her ear, and a heavy, uncomfortable weight settled into her stomach, a very, very bad feeling creeping up on her. She'd better leave... Now.

Unfortunately, she couldn't just "log off." That would be too easy. It took a few seconds for the exit program to, for lack of a better word, 'decouple' you from The Matrix. During the recalibration of the neural pathways, your avatar - and your psyche - was at it's most vulnerable. Being attacked while you were halfway through The Matrix and halfway into reality would... Serena took a deep breath. Badly damage your mind. You could escape while being attacked, but you were unlikely to come out of it in one piece. Most hackers didn't risk it unless they were already about to 'Pull a Wilson.' (Hacker slang for getting in way over your head and dying.) Serena just groaned, the irony of the situation not escaping her. Time to go, she mused, before she became just one more hotshot console cowgirl who gets used as an example for newbie hackers of what not to do.

"Log-" Serena got halfway through the command word when her eyes went wide, the window program infront of her shattering into a million fragments of code, the virtual view of the rainstorm "outside" disappearing and revealing a brick wall, where, a badly injured - and very angry looking Anabel was phasing through it. She was missing a few bits and looked frayed at the edges, and was certainly bloodied, but far from beaten. By the look in her eyes and the repeating crossbow in her hand, she was looking to repay that favour.

Serena didn't even bother finishing her command and chose to scream as her virtual body sprung into action. Just scant seconds before a dozen bolts would have perforated her corpus and burnt out her brain, Serena had already disappeared through the doorway, Anabel hurling insults from close behind, moulding her crossbow arm back into a familiarly vicious, oversized sword, clearing the doorway-

-right into the swing of a massive club, cracking Anabel's virtual skull with a hollow thump as she was knocked down onto her back, and Serena, down the hall at a dead sprint and looking over her shoulder, couldn't help but let loose a tired, raggedy, but relieved laugh, very thankful for her friend. Even if she hadn't been able to hear Lisa, Lisa had clearly heard her, and help had arrived.

Both of the ASSIST modules pressed the attack. The Red Ogre - a monstrous, oversized tower of muscle and weaponry, with a massive spiked club in one hand and a silvery cannon for the other, bore down on Anabel with its melee weapon. The Blue Fiend - a wiry, fur-covered abomination with ungulate legs and scythes for arms, and a single, red eye on an insectoid face, pounced forwards to cut Anabel apart. To Serena's shock, however, Anabel was still quite quick to act. She'd barely been able to avoid the fiend's scythes in time, and knocked both of Serena's assistants back with a violent gust of wind. As Anabel threw herself back to her feet, Serena took a deep breath and turned back and picked up the pace, trying to find somewhere safe to log off.

Just before Serena cleared another corner, she snatched a quick look as Anabel scythed forward and violently slashing several times with her sword, cutting into chitin and flesh and, almost as easily as she'd dispatched the wolf, reduced The Blue Fiend to ribbons, and clenched her teeth. Those ASSIST modules were powerful and expensive and it was looking like they could only delay the ghost for a few precious moments.

Serena ducked into a staircase, as, just out of the corner of her eye, The Red Ogre fired off a burst of lightning from it's cannon that Anabel, with some strain, deflected with her blade. The Red Ogre managed to block one of her vicious swings with it's club, but Anabel was faster, and meaner, and more vicious, and Serena didn't even bother to watch Anabel tear into it, and dived into the stairwell, not even bothering with the steps and just leaping over the railing and back down onto the first floor, dashing out into the hall and into a side room and slamming the door shut behind her, burrowing her way into what looked like the most secure corner she could find, before taking a deep breath, summoning the exit program and yelling out, in a desperate, shaky tone, "LOG OFF!"

As that familiar, now very comforting pulse echoed in her brain, her mind beginning to decouple from The Matrix, her vision darkening as her eyes went wide, seeing Anabel bursting through the door, ragged and badly wounded and murderous and vicious and her sword just as sharp, the point lunging towards her, as Serena opened her mouth to scream.

And everything went black.

"SERENA!" Was the first thing the hacker heard in her ears as her vision slowly returned. The feeling of air on her skin. Her body having weight. The carpet brushing her hair and the back of her neck. Breathing in... Out... In... Out... Very quickly... Her red eyes widened as she realized she'd been hyperventilating and Lisa was desperately trying to shake her awake.

It was an uncanny feeling, Like waking up from a nightmare. Serena's clothes felt clammy and soaked with sweat, and her tongue felt like a lead weight in her mouth, sticky with saliva. Slowly, and carefully, she gradually stood up and pulled the trodes off her head, as though the device could explode, or burn out her mind at any moment, and placed them down on the carpet, breathing deeply of the stale, stagnant air of Schwarzwalder manor. It was disgustingly sweet. Like vicious honey for her lungs.

For a tense, few seconds, Serena sat there, on the floor, in the dim, purple glow of the real mainframe room, the humming of the massive computer behind her making her hair stand on end. Lisa took in a deep breath of air and sat down infront of her, as a realization crept into Serena's head, and she looked a bit confused. "Why am I on the floor?" She asked.

"You... Err..." Lisa's expression turned worried. "Threw yourself out of the chair." She explained, and Serena went pale. "You were fine for the first few minutes, but then you... Jolted right out of the chair and started seizing.

Serena just found herself unsure of what to say, a vacant, thousand-yard expression in her red eyes. "I've never had that happen before." She finally replied, after a long, uncomfortable silence.

"Are you feeling okay?" Lisa asked, genuine concern on her words, and Serena had to think about it, touching the base of her neck, hand moving to feel her abdomen through her jacket - where, digitally, Anabel's blade was scant moments away from impaling her - making absolutely sure.

"I mean..." Serena took a deep breath, and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't feel brain damaged." She half-joked, and Lisa half-smiled.

"I'm just..." Lisa just laughed for a second. "Glad, Serena." The red-haired spy found a warm smile coming to her lips, and an awkward expression coming onto her face. "If you'd died there, after asking me for help, I don't know if I could've taken that."

"I'll be honest." Serena flashed a very rattled, almost guilty smile. "I think I would have if you weren't there." She admitted. "The ghost was 'this-'" She gestured with her thumb and forefinger. It was a very small length. "Close to skewering me as I was logging out, and I think if you hadn't sent in the ASSISTS..." She turned over to her cyberdeck, still on the table, ASSIST modules plugged in, doubtlessly burnt out and useless now. "When you did, she would've gotten me." There was a pause. Serena felt shook up. She felt cold and her skin was covered in goosebumps, but she found a smile coming onto her face as she said, "Thanks..."

"You aren't giving yourself enough credit." Lisa cracked a nervous smile and adjusted her glasses, and Serena raised an eyebrow. "I was watching the fight - most of it, there was a lot of interference, and I think it was a close thing. If the fight went on longer, I think you might've been able to beat her."

"Might have." Serena groaned, putting special emphasis on the 'might' part, since, despite the praise, she found that, having been there, she didn't really believe it. "But that's the first time I think I've ever been beaten in a serious fight." She admitted, a complicated rush of emotion. It felt shameful, but, at the same time, almost liberating - since, she had lived, but, right underneath, there was the sensation of dread, as she sighed, and changed gears, asking, "So, what now? I don't think Hollace is going to be happy to know that the ghost nearly killed me-

Click.

Serena paused. Her eyes sharpening. Her expression turning focused, and Lisa's, meanwhile, turned worried as an awkward smile crept at the corners of her mouth. "Did you hear that?" Lisa said. Serena found she couldn't say anything, but, after a moment, she just nodded, and Lisa looked even more worried.

It was a distant clicking noise. Like some forgotten piece of machinery suddenly springing to life, and a bad feeling crawled up Serena's spine. The combat reflexes she'd slowly been honing as a crack commando of the Special Asset Protection Squad were firing up, telling her she was in danger.

"We should go-" Serena said, pushing herself off the ground as she did, but something else finished that thought for her, red eyes going wide. She'd seen a shape move in the darkness, and Lisa let loose a girlish scream as she quickly scrambled to her feet, pointed into the shadows, and screamed.

"That statue just moved!" Lisa called out, index finger shaking, hazel-green eyes wide in shock behind her glasses, and Serena felt a cold bead of sweat run down the back of her neck. Her eyes darted back towards the mainframe at the back of the room. The mainframe that likely, controlled the manor itself. The mainframe that had a very angry ghost on it... Angry at HER, personally. Serena blinked, and turned back towards the knight statue in the darkness, and realized three things.

One, if Lisa was seeing it too, her eyes weren't tricking her.

Two. The one infront of her just stepped off the podium.

Three. That sword in it's hand, edge shimmering in the dim glow of the mainframe room, was razor sharp, and Serena's eyes went wide, the bad memory pulsing in her mind, and the realization stabbing into her psyche - they weren't out of the woods yet. Not by a long shot.

A burst of profanity erupted from Serena's mouth as she tore her sidearm from its holster, exposing the sleek, Italian P49 and loosed forth a burst of lead towards the knight, each muzzle flash lighting up the gloom as a copper jacketed bullet sailed forwards, and her time at the target range had been paying off. She shot five bullets and, this close, they all hit their mark. Serena wasn't quite able to celebrate, though. Only some of the bullets actually struck home - two harmlessly bounced off the plate mail, and, even if the knight said nothing with its faceless helmet, she got the impression she'd just made it mad.

Serena yelled out in a panic, her eyes going wide, blood and adrenaline flowing into her limbs, her heart picking up in pace as the knight charged towards her. The clang of armoured joints moving around rang in her ears and steel plate mail gleamed in the dim light as it bounded towards them. The knight brought it's sword up in a mechanically precise arc, and neatly cut the air in twain where Serena had been standing just a moment ago-

"ARGH!" Serena winced out in pain, a panicked sensation wracking her whole body as she felt a horrific, tearing sensation in her shoulder, and turned to see the second knight in this room. The one Lisa had seen move, right behind her, blood on it's outstretched blade, and a nasty looking gash in her shoulder, pouring out nanite-infused vitae onto the black leather of her coat.

"CRAP!" Serena jumped backwards, barely evading the follow-up attack of the first knight and letting loose a hail of lead into the second, emptying her magazine and doing little good. The remaining five 10mm rounds just dented the armour - except one. A single copper-jacketed bullet went right into the vision slit of the second knight's helmet with a satisfying shatter of glass. It didn't seem to do much to stop it, but the knight did seem to stagger for a moment.

However, the first knight was still pressing the offensive and bore down on Serena, her eyes widening, raising its blade overhead and about to bring it down before a hail of gunshots rang out from behind it, staggering the assailant and giving Serena the split second she needed to avoid its wild slash. A smile came onto her face as she saw, out of the corner of her eye, Lisa in the doorway with a smoking P49 in her hand, and the strap of her bag of tricks over her shoulder, which, by the looks of things, she'd grabbed in the chaos.

"Grab your cyberdeck and run!" Lisa yelled out, escaping into the hallway, and Serena quickly followed, swooping down, barely escaping a nasty swing to her abdomen from the second knight, and, with drilled precision, unplugged and snatched up her cyberdeck and bolted for the door, swinging it on her back, the knights at her heels, the first one slashing wildly at her, and Serena managed to avoid its blow, but, she winced as she felt the blade bite into the case of the cyberdeck strapped at her back, and swearing under her breath as she ran through the door. Both because she knew she was going to have to replace some very expensive parts, and because she knew if her cyberdeck wasn't in the way, that sword would have gone through her organs instead.

At a dead sprint, with the knights in hot pursuit, Serena quickly cleared the doorway into the hall and quickly caught up with Lisa, pistol in one hand and her cell in the other for illumination, the clang-clang sounds of the approaching knights ringing in their ears.

"Serena, your arm!" Lisa's eyes went wide, the splash of the torch illuminating the cascade of red splattering on her shoulder, but Serena just clenched her teeth and shook her head.

"Nevermind that!" She exclaimed in a panicked frenzy, the doorway to the dining room coming closer and closer into view, the familiarity of the situation turning her stomach into knots. "It'll be fine, just run!"

That was, in fact, true. Already, the pain in her shoulder was fading, replaced with a familiar tingling, medicinally burning sensation, as she could feel the flesh in her shoulder knit itself back together, goosebumps crawling up the back of her neck. Serena found herself unsure if she was ever quite going to get used to that. It was a good thing, and a bad thing. Good because her arm would be healed and she wouldn't bleed out. Bad... Serena shook her head and took a deep breath as they sprinted into the dining room. There was a problem, but it was a problem for her down the line. Right now, she needed to focus on getting the two of them out of this nightmare alive.

"More of them!" Lisa yelled out as they entered the dining hall, armour plating glimmering in the splash of Lisa's torch, the edges of their swords glowing as they approached. One knight on either side of the dining table. Both girls' eyes went wide, but neither of them stopped, and Serena took a deep breath, thinking on her feet, reasoning either way was equally bad, and not wanting to split up...

"Jump!" She decided, a few moments away from the knights crashing into them, Serena and Lisa barely evaded the twin scything blades as the two of them jumped up onto the massive banqueting table... At least, Serena did - she'd used her free hand to drag Lisa by the scruff of her coat onto it, shocked and panicky and mere moments from being cleaved in twain, leaving the knights to destroy the chairs where they'd been instead.

Their enemies adapted quickly, turning around and continuing the chase, swords swinging rapidly at their heels, but the girls were quicker, fleeing over the wooden surface, kicking up dust, flinging cutlery around and destroying expensive china as they went. Serena taking the brief moment to let go of Lisa and fumble a fresh magazine into her sidearm.

The two of them dropped off the other side of the table and sprinted out into the hall, a total of four knights behind them, and Serena fired a few shots from the hip into the metal mob as they ran, taking in a few deep gulps of air. For the moment, it looked like they were making good headway, but passing by all those empty podiums was beginning to make her antsy. By the time she and Lisa reached the foyer, they'd realized why, and stopped dead in their tracks.

A pair of panicked screams erupted into the gloom as they saw, in the beam of Lisa's torch, another pair of knights blockading the front door, swords pointed dead ahead. They'd been waiting for them, Serena realized, and they were coming forwards and now going for the stairs or further into the first floor meant getting past them.

"Other way! Other way!" Serena sprung into action, clenching her teeth as she grabbed Lisa by the arm like an unruly schoolgirl and didn't waste any time, sprinting back down into the corridor to find another way, as the two knights from the foyer sprang into action behind them, swords held high and bounding towards them.

"Which other way!?" Lisa yelled back as Serena dragged her into the hall, and her heart skipped a beat. At the far end of the corridor, barely visible in the shadows infront of them, the two knights from the dining room were charging in, waving their swords, and the two knights from the mainframe room were right behind them, and the two of them paused, eyes wide. 'We're..."

"Trapped." Serena finished her sentence, Anabel's mocking words ringing in her ears, and, to the horror of both of them, she'd locked up. She turned back to see two knights. She turned ahead to see four. She'd looked all around the hallway and her blood turned to ice. Just a bunch of side parlour rooms and galleries and no staircase or door or anywhere else to escape to... She kept desperately searching. The doors on their right were a crap shoot. One might've been a way out but Serena experimentally took a peek and found a small, disused sitting room and slammed the door in disgust. The long line of curtains on the left, however... Drew her gaze, and a sharp expression came into her eyes.

The idea flashed into her mind. A desperate, wild smile crawled onto her face. With a free hand, Serena grabbed the closest curtain and threw it aside, throwing dust everywhere and exposing the window, and the world. The glimmering, starry night sky, the massive snowbanks, and, most importantly, what was now their getaway car, the Jag still running with its lights on and Serena's smile turned into a maddened Cheshire-Cat grin as she realized it, and, from the alarmed, disbelieving expression on Lisa's face, she realized it too...

"Don't tell me you're!-"

She was cut off by the last few bullets in the magazine of Serena's weapon, the muzzle flash piercing the gloom as the four remaining slugs blitzed through the windowpane, splintering wood and shattering glass and weakening its structural integrity enough... Or... At least, a desperate laugh escaping her lips. She hoped.

"It's our only way out!" Serena explained, and before she had time to object, Serena grabbed Lisa's wrist in a vice-like grip, as the knights got closer and closer, and she took a deep breath and steeled herself before surging forwards, throwing herself into the window like a football player, jumping out and blocking her eyes with her other forearm, going right through the window and feeling the rush of cold air on her face. Feeling the biting kiss of broken glass on her skin. Feeling the cold, winter snow like the caress of an angel all over her as she landed in the snowbank, laughing madly, with Lisa falling face-first right into the snow right behind her, who'd been screaming the whole way, and now hyperventilating and swearing and trying to find where in the snow and the darkness her glasses had landed, as Serena pulled her head up and took a deep breath of the sweet air, and smiled, and laughed madly. They'd escaped!... It had actually worked, and she was pleasantly surprised at that.

Of course... Her mad laughter stopped when she looked over her shoulder and saw four knights in the window, briefly contemplating how best to get to the two girls and cut them apart, before turning around and heading... Her face went pale. Towards the front door. Serena turned back over to Lisa, who had managed to recover her slightly broken eyeglasses from the snow. Staying here would be terminally unwise. "Lets' go! Lets' go!" Serena wasted no time at all in rousing her companion from winter's embrace, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her up with newfound urgency. "They're still after us!" She yelled , and Lisa just took a deep breath, ducking down to grab her cell and handgun from the snow and trailing close behind.

The two girls rushed through the snow, leaving massive, deep imprints as their boots sank a good foot into the white, and back towards the Jaguar, Serena holding onto her weapon and her slightly ruined cyberdeck for dear life, and Lisa still clutching her phone and handgun behind her, looking visibly out of breath but desperate to escape, and as they drew close, they could see the confused expressions of Hollace and his chauffeur through the glass. The client's mood rapidly turned to alarm as Serena nearly tore the door open and jumped in, Lisa jumping in behind her, the two girls visibly frazzled and worse for wear and Serena still had a few cuts and Lisa's glasses were broken and her hat was dented from the landing, and both their hairstyles were badly ruined.

"STEP ON IT!" Serena yelled at the driver, panic and desperation in her eyes, while Lisa focused on settling down into the seat and catching her breath, the two of them ignoring Hollace's pointed requests to know 'what the hell was going on', as Serena screamed, "GET US OUTTA HERE!"

The driver opened his mouth to argue, but, before he could say anything, in the flash of the headlamps the front doors of the manor swung open, and half a dozen knights poured out onto the porch, and he just swore and swerved and slammed his foot on the accelerator, shifting gears with the speed of a racecar driver as he swung the Jaguar around and pulled it out, tires screeching and kicking up snow as the car pulled out of the courtyard, knights hot at their heels, and the whole party tense as the car peeled back onto the main road, the manor - and the knights - growing distant in the rear view mirror, and the two girls collapsing in their seats with relief.

"I... What?!" Hollace just looked shocked, agitated all at once, as he turned over towards Serena, who was calming down from the adrenaline rush, and beginning to shift into a low, cold anger.

"That ghost nearly killed me." Serena slowly leaned forward in her seat, her red eyes turning more inquisitive and vicious, and Hollace looked a bit uneasy in his seat. It was a stare that said, without words, 'Don't even dare to try and give me flak for not finishing this.'

"I... Well..." Hollace adjusted his collar. "She failed, so, that's a plus, clearly." He cracked an awkward smile, and had to dab sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief. "I'm glad to see you're still alive, of course-"

"Did you have any idea how dangerous that was?!" Serena cut him off, losing her patience, and Hollace flinched back. "You said this was supposed to be a milk run, but I nearly died! It cut through my wards like they weren't there, jammed my scanning programs, and even my best attacks could only slow it down!" She paused, breathing deeply, an uncanny feeling crawling into her stomach and pupating there. She'd just described a legend. She'd LIVED through the sort of thing people on The Matrix swap stories about. A bead of cold sweat ran down her neck. It was something most people didn't survive to talk about. "And..."

Serena took a deep breath, her mood turning, calming down a bit, becoming more inquisitive and almost accusatory. "The ghost knew who you were." She said, and... She noted it. It was an odd gesture. Hollace raised an eyebrow, but it seemed... Forced, somehow. "And she didn't like you very much. When I mentioned I was working for you, she went completely kill-crazy."

"Well, I suppose-" Hollace just cleared his throat, and, to her side, Serena noticed Lisa was in an odd state. Simultaneously alert and writing things down in her dataslate, and half-asleep, completely exhausted, and Hollace's expression turned a bit heavy-lidded and he added, "Can you tell her to stop doing that?"

"No." Lisa responded, with a yawn. "I'm just keeping track of everything so we can..." Her lidded eyes drifted to the window for a few moments. "Fulfill your requests better, Mr. Schwarzwalder." Serena and Hollace both cracked an awkward, wry smile at that. It was a terrible lie, and Serena knew it, and she wondered if Hollace knew it, and just took a deep breath and adjusted her scarf and decided to change gears, and address the really important question she had.

"Does the name 'Anabel,'" She said, and at the mention of the ghost's name, a sharp, alert look came into Hollace's eyes, and Serena and Lisa suddenly looked very attentive. Bingo. "Mean anything to you?"

"Ah... Yes..." Hollace took a deep breath of air and turned away, back towards the road. "I was hoping we wouldn't need to go there."

Serena leaned forward in her seat. "So, does it?"

"It does mean something to me, I'm afraid." He said. "But it's a long explanation, and it's getting quite late."

Serena shifted her weight in the rear seat, adjusting the cyberdeck resting on her legs, an irritated look coming into her eyes. "We've got time to listen."

"I must insist on waiting until tomorrow morning," Hollace replied, which definitely didn't improve Serena's mood. "But..." He continued, tugging on his collar, sensing a twang of impatience from the hacker in the back seat and visibly deep in thought on how to placate her. "Why don't you stay the night?" He finally asked.

Serena just raised an eyebrow "What, in the manor?" She sarcastically replied, and Hollace just shook his head, a tiny grin coming onto his mustachioed face.

"No, no! Ordinarily I'd be quite happy to have you as a guest in my home, but..." An uncomfortable look came on all four in the car, the memory of the marauding knights they'd just escaped still fresh in their minds. "Since, I would assume you're still going to be solving my ghost problem." He said, putting particular stress on 'assume', putting Serena on edge for a reason she couldn't quite pin down. "Why don't you spend the night at a local resort? I know the owner of a trendy, but quaint bed and breakfast on Main Street? It's a charming little old-century place."

Since, I assume still helping to solve my little ghost problem," Serena just found a harsh look coming onto her face at hearing the word 'little'. "-why don't you spend the night at a local resort? I know the owner of a rather trendy bed-and-breakfast style place on main street. A real old-century sort of place."

Serena opened her mouth to object, but, rather than words, found a yawn escaping her mouth, and a small grin came onto Hollace's face.

"I think that might be a good idea." Lisa piped up from behind her, adjusting her hat. "I'm really tired, too. Besides... It might be nice."

"I mean..." Serena took a deep breath. She didn't really like this, but, on reflection, it didn't sound so bad. A warm bed and not having to make herself breakfast in the morning sounded rather nice right now, but... She snatched a look at Hollace's face, and the look in his eyes. He seemed... Amicable enough, but... There was something about it she couldn't quite like. Something she couldn't place, but.

Serena just yawned again. "Alright." She relented, closing her eyes and reclining in the seat. Whatever it was, she mused, it could wait until she'd had a good night's sleep. "But tomorrow, I want you to tell me everything about the ghost."

"Oh..." Serena said, her tone turning awkward and her face turning guilty as she looked down at the pair of gravestones. Lisa, meanwhile, looked a bit shocked. It was a lot to take in, first thing in the morning.

"Yes..." Hollace took a deep breath of the cold, crisp, winter morning air. A distant expression hung over him as he looked forlornly into the distance. "It was impossible to fully explain without taking you here."

An uneasy feeling crawled into Serena's mind. She'd been rather focused on the question of why. Why did the ghost have the form of a young girl? Why did she seem to have some sort of connection - and anger - towards Hollace? Looking down at the cross-shaped grave marker in the pure white snow, it made more sense. She read off the inscription:

Anabel Schwarzwalder

B. May 28 2054

D. Nov. 6 2068

A kind soul

who loved the whole world.

-and felt a bit sick to her stomach. One question had been answered, leaving a thousand more in its wake. She'd fallen asleep quickly last night, but, when morning came she'd been so anxious and rearing to go she'd been up bright and early to question Hollace, and that was rare. She hadn't even bothered to have breakfast. She'd been very insistent, and almost aggressive, but the mood had turned a bit more confused - and worried - as Hollace's driver took them a bit out of town and into the Golden Acres cemetery. That part of the dome where its residents laid their bones down to while away eternity.

She'd found her answer under the clear, bluish-gray sky, amid baroque, stone walls, wrought iron fencing, and flagstone paths buried under a foot of snow. It was... She took a deep breath, condensation hanging in the air...

"A terrible tragedy." Hollace said. "The greatest misfortune to befall my family..." Serena's red eyes tracked over the second gravestone, goosebumps crawling up her neck as she read off the second name.

"Who was Jonas Schwarzwalder?" Serena asked, and a distant, hard to pin down look came into Hollace's eyes.

"My younger brother." He explained, and Serena and Lisa both flinched in shock.

Lisa gestured attentively with her index finger "So Anabel is-"

"My niece." Hollace continued. "Jonas' daughter..." He paused, for just a moment. "Jonas and I were more than simply family - we were collaborators in our enterprise. My brother was a passionate visionary. He loved to create video games, and I helped to support him by managing the business side of things. I was always happy to support his endeavours; it felt like together, we were making something truly special, but..." He took a deep breath, an odd, choking sound coming from his throat, and a worried expression came on Serena's face.

"But what?" Serena asked, guilt fighting tooth and claw with curiosity inside her mind.

There was a long, bitter pause. A zephyr of wintry air blew through the graveyard, ruffling up hair and blowing around scarves as it went. Hollace said nothing, opening his jacket, taking out a dataslate, and, after a bit of fiddling, showing it to her. Lisa immediately swooped in, peering around Serena's shoulder at the screen, both girls' suddenly turning very perturbed. On the tablet computer's display was a news article, from a publication called 'The Sun and Anchor,' and the headline said it all.

'VIDEO GAME KINGPIN ASSASSINATED IN DARING MOTORCADE ATTACK!' The executive summary, and the accompanying image directly below it, were no less vivid. A photograph of a destroyed, shot-out shell of a car on a deserted, detritus-strewn street accompanied the caption, 'Unknown gang of assailants open fire on limousine in busy St. Petersburg freeway. WalderSoft Chief Executive Officer Jonas Schwarzwalder and daughter, Anabel Schwarzwalder, both killed. Monty's Mounties say apprehending the 'heinous terrorists' has become the law enforcement firm's top priority."

"He'd just picked her up from school..." Hollace explained, his voice trailing off a bit. "It was just a normal day..." He took a deep breath. "I'm not sure why he was targeted, but..." Hollace just shook his head. "I lost my brother and my niece, and the world lost his dream. His great potential. His... Talent."

"Talent?" Serena asked, and a small smile came onto Hollace's face, happier memories coming forth.

"A once-in-a-generational computer prodigy, my brother was." He explained, quiet pride bleeding into his words. "I never understood that stuff myself, but it was practically second nature to him, all those programs and algorithms. He was practically a program, himself!" Hollace laughed, though, it sounded a bit hollow. "He could work miracles with a computer, and the engine he'd made for our games was years ahead of the industry!..." He gestured wildly, "But..." He took a deep breath and calmed himself, shaking his head. "It's over now. My brother was one of a kind, and truly irreplaceable. I don't know how we'll continue without him."

Serena's red eyes shifted back to the first grave marker, an uncomfortable feeling settling in her stomach "But what about Anabel?"

"A good girl." Hollace said, eyes still wistfully on the horizon. "She didn't deserve to get tangled up in this."

"No, I meant..." She just took a deep breath, turning towards the chairman, an expression of simultaneous confusion and disquiet coming onto her face. "The ghost! She called herself 'Anabel', and it sounded like she knew you, but..." She gestured towards the grave marker in the snow.

"It's an odd circumstance." Hollace responded, taking in a deep breath. "This is a family secret, but it would probably come out sooner or later..." He shot a look over towards Lisa, slate and stylus in her hands, and she just gave him a wiry look that said, 'keep talking.' and Hollace just took a deep breath and just settled for saying, "Do not speak idly of this, Ms. Klauetzer."

"I'm very good at keeping secrets." Lisa responded, and Serena just cleared her throat, and Hollace took a deep breath.

"My brother was, like any genius worth his salt, an eccentric." The chairman explained. "And paranoid. He had his great secrets - if the source code for our game engine were to leak, for example, the rest of the industry would be able to effortlessly catch up to my brother's work!" Hollace let loose a wistful laugh. "He was, as he ought to be, jealous of his work, so, as a side project, he put his skills to work in creating a new type of computer program to protect his digital domain..."

"It started as a rather simple program to keep intruders off his mainframe - I believe Jonas called it 'Black ICE.'" - and a look of worry came on both hackers' faces. "But as he worked on it more and more, and it grew stronger and stronger, and started to learn and think for itself, it soon became something much more. Jonas only trusted our family, so, he'd done something I'd thought impossible." The air grew painfully cold around them, as a punctual gust of wind blew through the graveyard once more, both girls with completely still, completely shocked expressions on their faces.

"So..." Serena paused for a moment. "Anabel - the Ghost", was-

"Precisely..." A look somewhere between disappointed and mournful came onto his face. "A digital copy of his Anabel - the girl. My brother made a simulacrum of the person he loved the most. He'd given the program Anabel's personality and memories and entrusted her with his most precious secrets, and, while he was alive, she performed admirably. Once he was gone, however..."

Hollace let out a deep sigh, and Serena raised an eyebrow, feeling something... Off in Hollace's expression. "She went berserk when she heard the news." He continued. "She lashed out at everyone working in the mainframe and wouldn't let anyone else connect." Serena got the feeling he sounded more... Annoyed, than anything. But... She sighed, feeling a bit guilty. It made sense. It was a bad problem he didn't need after losing his brother and niece, after all. "I hate to ask," Hollace turned back towards her and Lisa with a cold, solemn expression. "But she's become a danger to my staff and company, and I'm counting on you to get rid of her. You've made the most headway of anyone."

Serena raised an eyebrow at that, but, some uncomfortable feeling within her stayed her tongue, and she took a deep breath and changed gears. "I suppose we have to." She said, turning over to Lisa, who looked a bit disquieted as well. This job had gotten much more complicated than it had seemed. "I don't want to have to explain why we ditched the mission."

Hollace lit up at that - though, he quickly shifted right back to a more solemn demeanour. "So you'll do it?"

"Yeah..." Serena responded, turning away from Anabel's grave, and heading back along the snow-covered flagstones. "Lets' plan this over breakfast." She said, turning over to Lisa. "I feel pretty faint."

She turned away. Her eyes went wide, and she took a deep breath. She did feel the need for food, but, Serena realized this was a bit of a... Different faintness. She felt a bit hollow inside. A hollowness that, she knew, food wouldn't fill, and was welling up, beginning to press on her psyche, demanding... Serena shook her head, trying to banish it from her mind. She didn't want to articulate the word, or it'd just get ten times worse. She found her pace quickening a bit, and just laughed, trying to play it off as being hungry. She'd attend to her... Medical needs soon, but was hoping for the time being some food and coffee would make her feel better.

The Jaguar had, with haste, conveyed them back to the resort Hollace had graciously billeted them in. Clinton's Bed and Breakfast: a humble and subtle name for a place that was anything but.

Hollace had called it a 'quaint, turn of the century bed and breakfast' and Serena had expected a small house with a few guest rooms. Dropping the first and fifth words made the description accurate: Clinton's was absolutely palatial in it's size. It was a massive, Victorian mansion house along the main thoroughfare, and just seeing it in the morning light reminded Serena she was in the rich part of town. The domes was comprised of a series of an outer area of manor estates, where the elite slept, and a small urban part in the centre which Serena could only really describe as being 'what the ultra-rich thought an old-century town centre looked like.'

It had all the basic ingredients: little shops, cafes, townhouses, restaurants, clubs, office buildings, the works. The designers were, however, unwilling - or unable - to go easy on the opulence. The very town centre itself was a work of art, the buildings all immaculately crafted in a classical, rural European style, with high gothic windows and elegant brick and wood facades, and the buildings all rose above the streets, higher than any actual European village would have. The streets were no less grand, with wide, Parisian boulevards and large roman plazas, lined with marble statues and opulent fountains, turned off for the winter. A small sprinkling of snow was falling from the heavens, and Serena remarked it looked like some bizarre, faerie dreamland.

The dining room at Clinton's B&B was a similar, odd design compromise between the ideal of the old-century small-town, and the practical expectations of luxury. The dining room was a large, open space, reminiscent of an upper-class restaurant, with a style of decor that was very... Homely, in an upper-class way. The tables and chairs appeared more rustic and working-class until one got a closer look and saw the intricate craftsmanship in the designs. The tablecloths looked rustic until you put a hand to one and felt fine silks. The plates and cutlery were conservatively styled, but crafted from fine china and silver. Tall windows lined the far wall and gave a lovely view of the inner cloister, where a small forest grove had been planted, all covered in a gentle blanket of snow. In the corner, by the windows, a pianist on a raised dais played from an elegant grand piano, granting to the world what Serena's cultured ears recognized as Chopin's second Opus 9 Nocturne.

The black-haired hacker found herself sitting back and trying to focus, the lovely atmosphere making it easier to think, trying to mull over the mission to distract from the... Odd hollowness inside. Despite how uncanny this blend of rusticity and home-style charm was, Serena quite liked it.

"You're in your element." Lisa laughed from opposite her at the small table they'd been seated at, close to the windows. They'd both ditched the jackets, though, despite what she'd said, Serena felt a bit out of place in her jeans. She got a few odd looks from the other guests, and was just thankful the table was obscuring her working class fashion from the waist down.

She already felt a bit better, and almost reinvigorated when the waiter, dressed in that same odd blend of rustic and opulent, in a dark tweed jacket and matching slacks arrived with a pair of covered dishes. Serena had, after the chaos, ordered what she felt was the most quintessentially reinvigorating thing she could think of: Fried eggs, sunny-side up, bacon, toast with butter, and black coffee. All of it real. Real eggs, from a chicken. Real bacon, from a pig. Real bread, toasted to crisp perfection with real butter, from real milk. Real coffee, from actual coffee beans. Nothing synthetic or soy-based or made in a lab. All of it was real food, and Serena was practically drooling.

"I didn't like the idea of staying here," She admitted, after stopping to chew, and needing a moment to savour it. The eggs were perfect. The yolk was perfectly runny and burst with flavour in her mouth like a savoury artillery shell. "But I think I'm warming to it." She joked. "I'll put up with dealing with a pissed off ghost and Hollace if I can eat like this every day." From what she'd read, it had been typical for every family in what was now the United Federation, but The Crash, and a global population of 100 million put an end to that.

Real food, like what she was eating now, was a luxury. It bugged her a bit, in a way that even the rich, earthy goodness swirling in her mouth as she sipped her coffee couldn't assuage. Humanity had progressed so far, but in many ways most people lived worse than their grandparents. Serena just took a deep breath. It was galling, especially being among the rich and powerful, who ate like this every day, but, she realized, now was a bad time. It was probably better to just focus on the job and enjoy herself while she could.

"I told you it was a good idea." Lisa replied, taking a drink of orange juice. Determinedly cruelty-free as ever, she'd had a bowl of muesli oats, with bananas and raspberries in soy milk, and a croissant with margarine on the side. Serena told her she was wasting the opportunity, but the spy had shut her down; you didn't just sell out your ideals for crass luxury! Serena just replied she could keep her ideals; she wanted actual eggs.

"So...?" Serena pivoted the conversation. "How do we actually finish this?" She asked. She really would rather relax and enjoy her breakfast and take in the atmosphere, but the job ahead loomed overhead like a vulture.

"Kicking Anabel off the mainframe?..." Lisa took a deep breath, and shifted her weight in the chair. The both of them looked down, uneasy expressions on their faces. Serena could joke about the accommodations making this worthwhile, but it was a difficult problem they had on their hands - and that the ghost they were supposed to be exorcising was the digitized copy of a dead girl made things worse.

"Lisa, I'll be honest..." A, troubled look came onto Serena's face, as her gaze sunk into her cup of coffee. "I don't think I can do it."

"It's tough to tell." Lisa adjusted her glasses. "You got pretty close, but now Anabel knows your tricks, and in a straight fight, she's tougher. I agree with what you said to Hollace - it's not going to happen unless we get more people on this."

"No, not that." Serena sighed. On the car ride over, Hollace had prodded, and she'd explained, firmly, that if he expected her to go toe to toe with Anabel again, she would need, at minimum, a team of three other hackers and a large equipment budget. That made him go quiet. "I meant as a moral thing..." Serena took a deep breath. "Yeah, she's too tough for me to take on alone," The admission came out very painfully, and with great reluctance. "But I also... Well, now I feel bad for her."

"You're a bit leery about trying to destroy the digital shade of a dead girl." Lisa responded, her tone turning more inquisitive and a sly grin crossing her face, that made Serena a bit uncomfortable. "I don't blame you for not liking it, but..." She adjusted her glasses, and her smile turned a bit dry and scathing. "You feel bad for her?" She asked. "Even though she tried to kill you?"

"Well, for one, she's just a kid!" Serena leaned back and crossed her arms and Lisa snickered, and now she sighed, realizing how ridiculous that sounded. "And, well, she kind of has a reason. She's not trying to kill me because she wanted my wallet, or to use my body for zombie experiments. I don't think I can be that mad at her. Look." She gestured with a fork, probably breaking a few rules of etiquette in doing so. "Remember when you were a teenager?"

A wily smile came onto Lisa's face. "What about it?"

"You're kind of at that age where you're starting to think you're grown up and mature, you're all hormonal, and you've got a problem with the whole world, and you go and lash out."

Were you like that?"

Serena shifted her weight awkwardly in the chair. "I got as far as the first three." She admitted. "I wasn't cool - I mostly just smoked in the bathroom and complained about everything. What about you?..." She asked, and a snicker escaped her mouth as the thought crossed her mind. "Were you cool, Lisa?"

"I mean..." An embarrassed laugh escaped her lips, and she broke eye contact, and said, "Don't tell a soul, kay?"

"I'm really good with secrets, too." Serena replied without thinking too hard about it - and she'd later regret saying that, but for now...

"Okay..." Lisa leaned in, over the table, making sure nobody was close enough to hear, a very wide, embarrassed grin crossed her face, and, between the soft piano music, murmurs of conversation, and the clinking of silverware, said, "When I was fifteen, I was obsessed with a comic - and a show - called Gall Gemini."

Serena's eyes went wide, and she nearly spit-took her coffee, a massive smile coming onto her face. "Wasn't that about... Elves from the moon, or something?"

"Venus, but it doesn't matter." Lisa sat back down, took a deep sigh, and said, "And I wrote fan fiction about it and argued a lot with other shippers-" Serena caught a bit of second hand embarrassment, because she knew what that was and did not like to think about it. "-and things went a bit too far and..." Lisa took a deep breath and shook her head and a massive guilty smile came onto her face, and she switched gears and said, "Look, we went off topic."

"Well, the point is..." Serena said, trying to compose herself and not burst into embarrassed laughter. "You're at that age. You're kinda crazy for about five straight years, and..." The smile faced from her face. "So, in that mindset, Her dad got killed and her uncle is trying to have her kicked off her... Well.. Home." She sighed, expression turning heavy. "If she were human, she'd have screamed at us and locked herself in her room. She's a powerful, self-aware AI, and she's got absolute control over the server I tried kicking her off." Serena shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, I guess I can be mad, but I can't really hate Anabel over that." She said. "I think, in her shoes I'd be kill-crazy, too."

"But what do we do, then?" Lisa asked, and both girls just sighed. Back to the drawing board. The ghost was too strong for Serena to destroy on her own, and she found she hadn't the will to do it anyways. "Anabel wasn't too willing to talk with you the first time."

"Well..." An awkward smile crossed Serena's face. "Maybe she'll have calmed down by now?"

A sudden look of worry came on Lisa's face. "Are you gonna connect to the mainframe again?!" She asked, and Serena just groaned and shook her head.

"What?! No, I'm not suicidal." Serena rolled her eyes. "I'll just send an Email or something over to the WalderSoft mainframe. She's in control, so, she'll get it regardless of who it's addressed to."

"What about?"

Serena leaned forward and sighed. "I don't really know." She admitted. "Maybe to work out a deal or something? She said she didn't want Hollace to steal the company," She began to sit up, more alert, more encouraged as the gears in her head turned. "That could be leverage. Even if we can't convince her to leave, we can get a foot in the door by getting her to let the WalderSoft staff connect."

"And if it doesn't work?"

Serena sighed and leaned forwards again, looking distant and uncomfortable - and it wasn't helped by the kicking up of that awful, gnawing sensation even eggs and bacon couldn't suppress. She'd need to fix it, soon. "We'll deal with that if it happens..." Serena said, hoping it wouldn't come to that.

"What to write..." Serena thought out loud as she stared into an email client. A Graphical user interface application on a boxy, khaki monitor. Compared to Serena's cyberdeck, this hotel computer was practically a children's toy, but... Serena sighed. It was also in one piece, and hadn't been used to deflect a sword blow. It also meant that, if something went wrong, Serena's brain wasn't taking the brunt of it.

"I think we should start with something professional..." Lisa said, hovering over Serena's' shoulder, pausing to think. "Like, 'Hello Anabel, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I still think we should talk and see if we can come to an agreement.' That sort of thing."

"Maybe not so stuffy and corporate..." Serena shook her head. "We're not asking someone to fill out a form. We're trying to convince a temperamental teenage girl to hear us out and not..." She pulled at the collar of her turtleneck. "Kill us..." There was a pause. "It's a start."

Serena just sighed, and stood up straight in the chair, and, with all ten fingers began working the keys, reading aloud at the same speed she typed, "Hi, Anabel. I hope you're not still mad at Lisa and I. I still want to talk about the situation and try and work out an agreement..." She paused her typing, fingers hovering above the keyboard before she added, "I know it wasn't personal."

Woah." Lisa looked genuinely taken aback. "That was..."

"Fast?" Serena beamed with a bit of quiet pride, and Lisa just looked away, and adjusted her glasses. "Lisa, don't tell me you still type with your index fingers?" She cracked a sly grin, and Lisa looked a bit irritated.

"I usually write in longhand." She responded, and turned back, rolling her eyes. "Anyways, are you sure that's good?"

Serena shrugged her shoulders. "What else could I add?" She asked, and the two of them paused to think, looking around the room a bit. The hotel's computer lab was a small annex on the ground floor. A small parlour room that had been converted into an office; a few rows of desks and cyberterminals and rolling chairs, and a lovely view of the garden outside. All for the benefit of those on vacation or a business trip who needed to do a bit of clerical work, but left their cyberdecks at home... Or, like Serena, had theirs broken by rampaging sword-wielding... Things.

"We don't want to help anyone 'steal' the company from you or kick you off the mainframe." Serena said, over the rapid click-clacking of the keyboard as the words appeared in the email client's body text. It did feel admittedly odd to be saying that when that was what they'd been hired to do, but... Serena sighed. It wasn't like she could, if she wanted to.

"Oh!" Lisa piped up, extending an index finger. "She was pretty ticked off when you mentioned you were working for Hollace, right?"

"Yeah." Serena replied, leaning back in the roller-chair. "Which is why I don't wanna include it."

"No, we can use that!" Lisa flashed a wily smile and pressed in the bridge of her glasses. "You should imply that we're working around him, not with him!"

Serena just raised an eyebrow. "I don't really want to bring up Hollace, but... Hmm..." She paused for a moment, before typing and saying. "We want to come to an agreement that you will find acceptable. I think you got the wrong impression of Lisa and I at first."

Lisa shrugged her shoulders. "I mean, I guess that works." She said.

"Anything else to add?..."

"I don't really know." Lisa adjusted her glasses. "But if you're gonna add more, don't pad it out. Just keep it simple and to the point."

"Yeah..." Serena replied, leaning over and making a new paragraph. "Lets' get to the closing..." She said, and began to type and narrate, "Looking forward to working together, Serena and Lisa. Bathrette Beautronics." She turned back over to her colleague, and asked, "That's sort of what you were going for - emphasizing we're distinct from Hollace."

"I like that." Lisa responded. "It should work..." She smiled, but looked a touch uncertain. "Hopefully."

"Yeah..." Serena let out a nervous laugh. "Hopefully." She leaned back, and both girls looked into the screen, re-reading the message staring back at them several times, touching up and changing the exact wording a few times, back and forth, but, eventually, the two girls finally settled and concluded the olive branch was as perfect as it was ever going to be, and all that was left was to enter the address and hit send... Serena felt a lead weight sink in her stomach and an awkward look came onto her face, before Lisa sighed, said, "Move over." and leaned in over the keyboard and filled in the address line with the address of Anabel's server. It wasn't specifically an e-mail address, but, modern internet protocol could send that message to it just the same.

Serena's smile was both relieved and uncomfortable. "You wrote it down." She said. It was the address she'd attempted to wirelessly connect to last night, and it had completely slipped her mind - but, evidently, not her friend's pen."

Lisa flashed a coquettish smile. "Seriously, Serena." She let out a wry laugh. "What would you do without me?"

"Don't get too cocky." Serena smiled, and rolled her eyes, (and finding the hypocrisy a bit funny) and jokingly pushed her away from the keyboard, finally hitting send. The terminal beeped in affirmation, displaying a message confirming the successful receipt of their mail, and Serena took a deep breath, both girls turning to look at eachother.

"So what now?" Lisa asked.

"We wait." Serena replied. They weren't left waiting long; Anabel's response was quick, succinct, and very, very forceful. The screen of the cyberterminal suddenly went black, and Serena wrinkled her nose, detecting the faint smell of smoke, and, Lisa (ill-advisedly) leaned in towards the monitor, before there was a loud BANG! from inside the monitor's circuitry, and the both of them flinched back, Lisa with a ladylike "EEP!" and Serena, with more drama, falling out of her chair and swearing up a storm.

After Serena pulled herself from the floor, the both of them stared forlornly at the destroyed cyberterminal. There was a dark, burnt spot on the plastic shell, and smoke poured from the panel gaps. The two of them turned to eachother again, both awkward and unsure. That seemed to settle it - and would be difficult to explain to the staff. "I think she told us to get bent." Serena remarked, taking a deep breath, looking disappointed.

Lisa looked at her with a displeased expression in her face. "So what now?" She asked, and Serena groaned, leaning over the desk, palms planted on the wooden surface, eyes focused on the ruined computer.

"I don't know." She admitted, her tone flat and a bit frustrated. What could they do? She'd been wrong, evidently. Anabel hadn't exactly sent a reply, but, computers don't just randomly explode. It looked like the ghost was uninterested in talking, and the frustration at being, again, deadlocked was making the gnawing in her soul flare up... Her teeth tingled a bit, and she needed to take in deep breaths of air to focus and calm down and not think about that. She'd fix it soon, just focus on the now, Serena...

"Maybe we should discuss it with Hollace." She suggested. It was a non-solution and she knew it, and it was making choler flash in her throat. Now, she felt like an idiot, but... She took a deep breath. What could she do? Learning more about Anabel, she realized, had made her want to talk, but that was seeming to be an impossibility, and, to her chagrin, it was looking like they were just going to have to rope in a few more hackers and do things the hard, violent, and expensive way-

A chime rang in her ears. Serena's red eyes went wide. Lisa just looked confused. "What was that?"

"Huh?"

"That was my cell..." Serena responded, quickly drawing the device from her back pocket. It was an older model, with a white case and a cracked touchscreen and a slide-out keyboard and it was only working because she'd remembered to plug it in last night. Serena was diligent with her cyberdeck and constantly maintained it and upgraded it with bleeding edge parts, but she didn't feel the same 'bug' when it came to her cell phone. She'd had it since she was in college, and it'd become a bit like an old, favoured sweater. Damned if she was going to replace it now, even if the screen was cracked and the battery had a bad habit of dying and it ran slowly and occasionally overheated... It was like replacing your childhood dog, Serena said, which made people give her funny looks.

None of that was on her brain as she stared at the lock screen, reading off a message, sent from a 1-800 number that would have ordinarily tripped her spam filter, but, Serena suspected there was some trickery in play, and she felt strangely alarmed and relieved as she read the message off. "I changed my mind. Anabel."

Lisa was already looking around Serena's shoulder, and smiled awkwardly at that. "What, that quickly?" She said. Serena, meanwhile, opened her SMS application and sent a response.

"That was fast." She typed into the slide-out keyboard. It wasn't very long before Anabel sent another response.

"I realized it after I blew up your computer." Came the reply, with another chirp. "That I could use you." Serena and Lisa both smiled, uneasily, at that. A long, uncomfortable silence fell over the computer lab, before Serena just sighed.

"Well, my dad did always tell me to be the bigger person..." Serena said aloud, shook her head, and made a mental note to figure out how in the world Anabel got her number before typing a reply. "Alright. So, you want to talk with us?"

A few seconds later, her phone chimed again. "No." Anabel clarified, and the girls looked worried before she clarified, "I'm going to talk TO you." Serena groaned. It wasn't much better. "You're different." Anabel continued with her next message. "I started to think it when you first came into my server. I realized it when you sent that email. That's good. I'm willing to, eventually, talk WITH you if you do what I say."

Serena stared into the screen for a few moments. Unsure of what to think. This was... Well... She coughed, awkwardly. Technically, this was progress. Of a sort. "Alright." She typed. "I'm listening, what do you want us to do for you?"

"Not over the phone, you idiot." Came Anabel's response, and Serena's expression dimmed, and turned heavy-lidded, and Lisa's matched it, only for both girls to suddenly look very worried, when Anabel sent her next demand. "We'll discuss things virtually, on my mainframe. Both of you plugged in."

Serena and Lisa turned towards eachother, both looking quite agitated and unsure of... Much of anything. Lisa nervously adjusted her spectacles, and Serena reflexively ruffled up the back of her neck, a sudden craving of nicotine - and something much worse - flashing in the back of her mind.

Her phone chimed again. "I won't kill you."

Serena just stared down at the screen for a few awkward moments before her brain went slack a bit, and she typed the only response she could think of. "Pinky swear?" She snuck a look over at Lisa, who was going a bit deer-in-the-headlights. Serena couldn't fault her friend for being worried - it was only because of Lisa's intervention she hadn't died to begin with. With both of them plugged in, there wouldn't be anyone to help if Anabel decided the two of them had lived too long.

"Pinky swear" came Anabel's response, and there was a slight loosening of tension before she added. "Unless you piss me off."

Another long, uneasy silence hung in the computer lab like graveyard mist. Serena, on a slightly anxious autopilot, typed up her response. "I'll mind my P's and Q's, then."

"Good." Anabel replied. "You and Lisa connect to the mainframe, and I'll talk to you."

"I'll have to fix my cyberdeck first." The hacker sent.

"Why."

Serena's temper kicked up and she shot a frown into the phone's screen. "Because one of your knights cut it up with a sword." She was assuming - but, really, who else would be controlling the damn things?

"Oh." Came the reply a second later. "When you're done, don't go to my house. Just connect wirelessly. I'll let you in." A heavy-lidded look came over Serena's face. She wasn't even bothering to apologize. Still... Small comforts. The sour look Serena wore was replaced by a nervous smile, and Lisa matched the gesture. At least, they could connect from the comfort of their hotel room instead of prowling through the inky-dark, knight-infested depths of Schwarzwalder Manor again.

"Okay." Serena sent back, taking a deep, nervous breath. The prospect of the task ahead of them still making her trigger finger itch and making her badly crave nicotine.

"See you there." Came the final response. A second later, Anabel added a little pictogram to show some emotion. " ;) " and Serena wasn't really sure what to think about that. Maybe Anabel was trying to dispel the tension a bit, but all she'd accomplish was making Lisa go pale and Serena go even paler.

Serena turned back over her shoulders to look at her friend, laughing nervously. "I'm sure we'll be fine." Serena took a deep breath, and tried to put on a smile, the implanted fangs in her mouth tingling a bit, the awful, hollow hunger inside of her began to flare up. "Probably." She adjusted the collar of her turtleneck, trying to force down the goosebumps, telling herself she'd be able to feed soon. "Lets' get going."

Serena shifted the Jaguar back into neutral as she let on the brake pedal, quieting the motor down and bringing the car to a halt outside of her apartment. She undid the safety belt and turned her head over to the lobby, peering through the glass doors, towards the elevator shaft, the hollow, biting feeling inside of her intensifying, and all she could do was bite her lip and try to contain it for a few moments longer. She was so close, now.

"So, you're gonna go to your place?" Serena asked, turning over towards Lisa, the writhing feeling flaring up a bit inside. So close. Just had to take of one more thing.

"Yeah, I'm going to get a few changes of clothes." Lisa explained, from the passenger seat. "If we're gonna be staying out for a while, I don't wanna wear the same thing the whole way." She joked. Earlier, she had called up Hollace and asked for a ride. They needed to go back to Serena's apartment so she could fix her cyberdeck, so she could connect to the mainframe again. Technically true, but not the whole story. He'd moaned, and sighed, and assumed this was going to be a regular occurrence, so he'd given them the keys and told them to just give it back when they were done. He had refused to pay for fuel, though.

"I'll give you a call to pick me up, then." Serena said, peering through the rear-view mirror, at the cyberdeck in the back seat, as she unlocked the driver-side door. "I might take a while to fix my gear, so go and run some errands if you need to."

"I might." Lisa replied, flashing a jokey smile. "Have fun." She said, and Serena fixed her scarf as she exited out into the crisp, winter air of the city, snow falling around her - real snow. From the real sky. She slammed the driver-side door behind her, opened the rear doors and grabbed her cyberdeck and bag of tricks, and went off, pacing herself, trying to not look too hungry or mad as she made her way back to the apartment, gazing up at the tall, gothic tower block ahead of her, with it's massive, sheer vertical surfaces, augmented with decorative columns and bas-relief patterns. It had style to it, but was relatively restrained. Uncharacteristic of Bathrette, Serena mused, but building everything as intense and rich as The Castle would get old fast - not to mention expensive.

The hunger gnawed inside of her, her fangs began to twitch, her blood felt thin and restless inside her veins the closer she got. Serena just gritted her teeth, exhaled a massive cloud of condensation in the winter air, and held tighter onto the cyberdeck's sling as she passed through the glass doors, restraining herself, and trying to not break into a mad sprint. That would rouse suspicion, especially from... She briefly looked over her shoulder, towards the drivers' seat of the Jaguar, where Lisa was sitting with her dataslate, trying to pretend she wasn't spying on her, and Serena just shook her head and groaned as she went into the lobby.

When she'd first met the girl in the Cybersecurity department, Lisa had seemed harmless enough. However, as they became friends and more regular collaborators, a few oddities were starting to stick out in her mind. Lisa's nosiness, for one, and her obsessive note-taking. She was always writing things down, about the people they were talking to, about the places they were going - especially when she thought Serena wasn't looking. She just took a deep breath, hitting the call button, and looking around the lobby, the usual tan-coloured tile floor and inviting, cream-coloured walls decorated for the season with a streamer of Christmas lights, and even a little tree in the corner. Really, she sighed, exactly what was with that girl?

Lisa herself, back in the drivers' seat was wondering that exact same thing. Her bespectacled eyes peered through the snowfall and into the lobby, seeing the leather jacket-clad hacker step into the elevator, briefly averting her gaze as Serena turned around, an instinctive, innocent looking smile coming to her face. Her friend was an... Interesting girl, Lisa mused.

She waited for the elevator doors to close before bringing her dataslate back up over the car's dashboard, spinning the stylus in her fingertips before opening the notation program and scrolling through a long list of entries. Her smile faded and her eyes narrowed into a bitter frown as they passed over the name, 'Gordon Kimball,' before she finally settled on, and opened, the entry for 'Serena-Olivine Ramneau.'

Whoever had said to not mix business with pleasure, Lisa mused, hadn't been completely correct. This was a hobby she'd turned into work, but it hadn't ever quite lost it's... Charms. She took a deep breath, and found a perverse twinge of glee shoot up her spine as she scrolled down and skimmed through what she already knew about her friend. It never stopped being... Interesting.

Most of what she had on Serena was fairly standard. Where she grew up, her parents, where she went to university, all the various places she'd worked. Her address, her hobbies, favourite brand of cigarette, blood type, three measurements, how often she fixed her motorbike, favourite author, favourite composer, how many hours a day she used her computer. All of that was trifling, though. The information equivalent to little trinkets bought at a seaside resort town. It was all data-mined white-noise anyone who knew her and had a cyberdeck could find.

No, what Lisa really cared about was that large entry near the bottom, beneath some of the more unusual things Serena had done, highlighted and underlined twice. "Keeps a massive secret." She read aloud, and let out a cattish laugh. To her credit, Serena had kept it well. She was diligent, paranoid, and as restrained as any spy, and even alcohol couldn't coax it out of her. (Not that Lisa had been very enthusiastic about going that route.) Unlike a good spy, though... Lisa's expression turned to a sly grin. She wondered, if Serena knew how bad she was at keeping it secret that she had a secret?

Just keeping it hidden wasn't enough. One of the first things Lisa had learned in... Indulging her hobby of information is that, to keep a secret, you have to act as though it doesn't exist. The first step in finding a secret, after all, is learning one exists. Serena was a nice girl, Lisa mused. Good at heart and cared about her friends, but she was so, horrifyingly bad at concealing her guilt. The word 'SECRET' was practically written all over her. In her face. In her eyes. In the way she spoke. She stank of secrecy, and that... Lisa flashed a wily smile. It was making her want to cut Serena open and find out what made her tick...

Lisa idly spun the stylus in her hand and gazed out the windshield, wondering exactly what sort of secret her friend had. It was a big one, that was for sure. The sort that... She took a deep, excited breath, her eyes looking sharper. Could get someone killed... Lisa let out a naughty laugh, as she began writing down a new entry in Serena's file. Opening with the date, and reading it aloud as she wrote it in elegant, longhand cursive script. "Acted cagey again today. Still no particular pattern emerging in behaviour. From Hollace Schwarzwalder mission?" She looked up from the slate and gazed at the snowfall and spun the stylus in her fingers, a pensive expression in her eyes. "Unsure."

She took a deep breath, flashed a wry smile, and looked back towards the apartment, a warm, excited, naughty feeling coming into her stomach. "I'm going to figure you out, Serena..." Lisa mused. "One day." She had to admit, her friend was probably the most... Interesting person she'd ever studied.

The lock slid in place with a satisfying click. Serena leaned against the door and breathed heavily. Her body felt faint. Her soul felt hollow, and desperately, ravenously... Hungry, of a sort.

Her apartment sealed, Serena, with great care, planted her cyberdeck down on her bed, and then undressed in a frenzy, throwing off her coat and scarf and sweater and revealing the white golf shirt underneath. Breathing deeply, mouth hanging open, fangs catching the soft, amber light of her one-room apartment, she stormed towards the refrigerator in a frenzy, so close now, she could almost taste it. Serena tore the door open and reached in, to the very back, coldness crawling across her arm as she reached into a nondescript gray box and retrieved an unmarked sachet from within.

Her pupils narrowed as her eyes widened, staring at the cold, gray, metallic sachet in her hand. Her mouth hung open, her fangs twitched, her whole body gnawed and writhed with that awful, hollow feeling. Serena leaned over the sink, took a deep breath, closed her eyes, opened her mouth wide and sunk her teeth into the plastic sachet, puncturing it with a soft stabbing sound, and the hollow feeling soon abated. A warm, rich, renewing feeling flushing through her veins as she greedily drank of the bag's contents. Goosebumps went up her neck as she felt the cold, thick liquid slide up her fangs and into her bloodstream, practically shaking as relief washed over her.

Done, the sachet emptied. Serena withdrew her fangs and crumpled it up and opened her eyes. She knew what she was going to see - she'd seen it over a hundred times, but it felt no less disgusting or disturbing to open her eyes and see blood. Splattered on her hand. On the sachet. In the sink. On her face. Serena took a deep breath, and opened up the tap and let a stream of warm, purifying water erupt from the faucet. She washed off her hands, thoroughly, with two lathers of soap, before washing out any trace of red from the sachet and throwing it away in a small, special black trash can she kept under the sink. The contents of which she threw in the incinerator once a week. She didn't like keeping evidence around the house.

She just took a deep breath, and leaned into the sink, lathering her face with soap and thoroughly washing off the red. The hollow, gnawing sensation finally suppressed by slaking her thirst for blood.

A vampire. Serena laughed nervously to herself as she got the blood off. There wasn't any other way to put it. Her strength, endurance, regeneration of injuries, low-light vision, and the fact that she was alive to begin with, came at a cost. The nanites inside her veins that kept her going, kept her upright, kept her cancerous body from destroying itself, needed blood to sustain themselves. Hers', specifically. So, as they drank, she always needed more... Serena took a deep breath and reached for the bottle of mouthwash she kept by the sink. She rinsed her mouth out, three times, spit, spit spit, until she could get the sanguine taste of iron off her tongue. That was her big secret. She closed the taps, dried off her face with a towel, and sat down on the floor and gazed forlornly out onto her balcony and into the snowfall outside. She needed to drink blood to live.

It wasn't all bad, Serena bitterly mused, the click of her cheap lighter running in her ears. An orange flame danced on the end of the nozzle, lighting up her black cigarette and sending a refreshing wave of nicotine into her system. Something to help calm down. She was a superhuman, cyborg corporate commando, after all, and none of the 'traditional' weaknesses applied. She could look at herself in the mirror, cross running water, stand the sight of a crucifix, and even eat garlic (If she wanted to; Serena couldn't stand the stuff even when she was human) It wasn't a magical curse, but the big thing still stuck out. She needed blood to live.

She also needed to protect that secret. It wasn't just that people wouldn't tolerate a bloodsucking monster in their midst, but the fact that Serena's augmentations were bleeding edge nanotechnology. She was far beyond what the rest of the cybernetics industry was capable of making. The vampire took a deep breath, an anxious expression coming over her. If the secret of Serena's condition reached the ears of Bathrette's rivals, they'd want to seize the technology, right out of her bloodstream, and they wouldn't ask politely.

Serena took another drag off her cigarette, letting loose a puff of smoke into the air. This was just her life now. Drinking blood to keep herself going. The company supplied her, like a drug dealer (and she really didn't want to know where they were getting all of it) and though she was loathe to, in a pinch, she could use those fangs of hers to... Her body shook a bit. Drink directly from the source.

Her red eyes watched the dancing of the snowflakes outside as she let her mind run wild. Dr. Gabriel McGarahann, the Bathrette scientist who'd invented and installed her augmentations in the first place, had given her an estimate of how long she could go without drinking blood. It wasn't a good one, and even he admitted it was mostly guesswork and 'most likely scenario' estimations. So Serena had done a bit of experimenting on her own, helped along by some more mundane missions where she'd need to be away from 'resupply' for a while.

On good days, where she wasn't being shot at or menaced with swords, she found she could easily go about two or three days before that awful, hollow feeling started to creep in. If she was pushing her body to the absolute limit, or had been badly injured, it would start sooner. After it started, the longer she staved off blood, the worse it got. The intensity slowly crept up, day on day, until it began to completely dominate her mind and wrack her body with pain and hollowness, and she'd be overwhelmed with the need to sink her fangs and drink the life's blood of others to preserve herself. She took another drag off her cigarette. A week was the longest she'd gone. It had almost been too much - the hunger had been too intense, and she'd nearly... Lapsed. She remembered, Gabriel had been particularly reproachful - and he'd warned her of the dangers of going too long without blood. As much as she wanted to be in control... Serena sighed. Her thirst ran controlled her - not the other way around.

Too little blood in her veins, plus the adrenaline and narcotic compounds her nanites created, especially in emergency output mode, had a tendency to cause a bad lapse in mental control, causing Serena to run off her... Base instincts. She cringed a bit at that. She'd been able to keep herself... Mostly under control for now, but the possibility of what might happen if she had an... Episode at a bad time, blowing her cover in a rash of blood and violence loomed over her like the blade of a guillotine.

Serena sat there and burnt away her cigarette for a while, calming down, focusing. She'd attended to her needs. Worst come to worst, she told herself, she'd duck back here again for another drink and leave Lisa in charge - and, hopefully, in the dark. She laughed nervously to herself. Hopefully.

Her veins filled with blood, her nerves cooled down, her cigarette nearly burnt to a dog-end, Serena decided she'd better get to work. She got up, put her cigarette out in a dirty-looking ashtray, and sat down on her bed, grabbing her cyberdeck and inspecting the damage and wincing painfully. Not to mince words - it was bad. The knight's sword had gone through it like a hot knife through butter, cutting a nasty gash into the case, and really making Serena regret not springing for the reinforced aramid construction, like what Dr. Lazerian had on his machines. She'd done some digging, and found the company that made it, but she'd initially balked at the price and the added weight and, at the time, figured she was better off without...

Once she'd gotten the case off, Serena's heart sank, because the inside wasn't much better. The hard drives, the program manager, and the screen were, graciously, undamaged, but the motherboard was neatly bisected, as were two of her four sticks of ram. Bits of fan blades rattled away inside of the case, and, from the state of the wiring, she'd have to rip it all out and replace it completely, and it was going to be long and arduous...

Serena took a deep breath, and pulled out a large, slide-out compartment from underneath her bed. A large, black polywood case where she kept her cyberdeck when she wasn't using it (which wasn't very often), as well as a computer shop's worth of replacement parts, chips, disks, wire, tools, and everything a hacker worth her salt would need for an exciting evening in. She grabbed a small screwdriver and a small bowl to keep errant screws from getting lost, and got to work, starting with the destroyed motherboard...

The morning had turned to afternoon as Serena and Lisa connected, a heavy, cloying weight on both girls' weightless avatars. Anabel hadn't been lying - they'd been able to jack in remotely, from the comfort of their hotel room. Once Serena was done fixing her cyberdeck, good as new, they'd driven back to Clinton's B&B (through the ground-level access tunnels, unwilling to pay the ludicrous Skyroad tolls) and were both able to connect through Serena's cyberdeck - which was a good and a bad thing.

It wasn't unheard of for multiple users to jack in on a single terminal. Serena's cyberdeck, as a matter of fact, had four ports for four pairs of trodes. The issue was that you'd be splitting the machine's processing power over multiple users. For web browsing or flaming people on forums, that was fine. For hacking into places people would rather you didn't, however, most hackers insisted on flying solo or using an ASSIST program or two. If you did have a human partner, they were pretty much always, 'on the outside.' Serena had heard it compared to trying to fight with cinder blocks tied to your arms and legs.

Serena took a deep breath, feeling the fastening of the connection to Anabel's mainframe. It shouldn't be a problem, here. They were, as Anabel said, plugging in to be talked at. No violence today... A shiver went up her digital spine, remembering Anabel's words. 'Unless you piss me off.' She'd still loaded her program manager full of defence and evasion programs to make their escape easier, just in case.

That had almost seemed as though it was about to come to, as, when the connection finished, Serena and Lisa found themselves in the virtual approximation of the mainframe room, staring down a digitized knight in gleaming, jet-black armour, and both girls screamed, and flinched back, and Serena felt her digital hand twitch, instinctively making the motions of initializing an attack program before-

"I'm Not Here To Fight You." The knight said, in a flat, yet polished monotone, and both girls went from panicked to very, very confused.

"You're not?" Lisa asked, very matter of fact, but still looking and speaking quite tensely.

"I Am A One Program Welcoming Committee." The knight replied, introducing itself, and Serena took a deep breath, looking around the room, a very disquieted expression coming onto her face, as she reflexively tugged at her collar. It was all... Different. Very, very different to the last time she was here.

What she'd immediately noticed was the lights. That was what had set her off in the first place. It was almost night and day to when they'd first been in here. The purple glow was still here, but it was... Lessened, somewhat. It was a bit softer. A bit less eerie. While they were gone, Anabel had swapped out the purple flames for normal, almost pleasant looking purple bulbs, and they were bright enough that Serena could almost see properly, fully making out the patterns in the wallpaper and carved on the baseboard, and the intricate design of the ornate ceiling up above.

The second thing she'd noticed was how... Tidy everything was. On her first visit it was like a monster had ran through and tore everything up, destroying furniture and leaving deep gashes in the walls. While they were gone, Anabel done in a few hours what, in the real world would have taken a day and a half and a team of workmen. All the furniture was restored, the digital carpets were clean and new, and the slashes and gash marks had been electronically scoured out. An uneasy smile came to Serena's face, as she adjusted her virtual necktie. "She's serious about talking with us, isn't she?" Serena asked.

"TO You." It reminded. "The Mistress Has Been Very Eager To Speak TO You Two." The program responded, and Serena and Lisa exchanged worried glances, before the knight turning and said. "This Way, Please." Not having much of a choice, Serena dutifully followed, and Lisa trailed close behind, the two of them still quite tense. Serena still had on her conservative, 'day at the office' avatar on, and Lisa's virtual representation of herself was similarly done up, another stylized approximation of the real thing, and dressed sharply, with a tan blazer and long, dark red skirt, with no necktie to cover up her white dress shirt, with brown loafers and white pantyhose on her lower half. Though, the real girl had switched to glasses and hadn't worn her dyed red hair in a ponytail since October.

They both looked dressed for a regular day in the office, but... Serena took a deep breath. If they were going to play parlay with a murderous ghost, it made sense to dress professionally. An awkward smile came onto her face. Of all the things her job was, 'boring' wasn't one of them.

The knight program led them out of the rebuilt server room, through a rather uncomfortably familiar path - into the hallway, and through the dining room, where Serena had met Anabel for the first time, and a tense look came onto her face.

"What does Anabel want to talk to us about?" Serena asked, as the knight led them into the dining room, the state of it almost pristine: the carpet had been cleaned, the detritus had been removed, and the table was repaired and set for a digital feast, rows of silverware and porcelain nearly arranged, and candlesticks lit in silvery candelabras, as though guests were due to arrive at any moment. Even the weather had become more calm, having gone from an oppressive downpour to a relaxing pitter-patter of droplets against the glass.

"She Will Tell You When She Speaks To You." The knight starkly replied, in a flat monotone. It was reminding Serena a bit of an old text to speech program, but more... Straight laced. Posh, even.

"Do you have a name?" Lisa piped in, as the knight led them through the dining room, and back into the halls, roughly tracing the path Serena had taken as she'd fled, and, to her disquiet, Lisa had, hovering infront of her, the window of a note-taking program, and spun a little stylus idly in her hand. "I'm trying to figure out what to call you."

"I Do Not Have A Particular Designation." The knight replied. "You May Address Me As You Wish."

Lisa twisted a lock of virtual red hair with her free hand. "I'll just call you 'Anabel's knight, then." She said, writing that in the floating notepad, and the knight voiced no objection. "Do you have a function?"

"I am Multifunctional, But I Was Designed For Intruder Containment And Expulsion." Came the answer, and for a moment both girls looked a bit worried. "But There Was A Lack Of Intruders To Contain Or Expel." It added. "Those That Did Attempt To Intrude, Such As Your Friend Serena, Mistress Anabel Preferred To Deal With Herself." It briefly turned over, noticing that Serena and Lisa had both stopped in their tracks, and added. "You Have Nothing To Worry About. You Are Not Intruders. You Are Guests Here."

"I... I see." Lisa laughed a bit, and turned to Serena, and said, "Lets' keep going, then." She sounded a bit uneasy, and Serena didn't blame her. There was no telling if, or when, the ghost's mercurial mood would shift and she'd change her mind about them being invited.

"I've got a question about the knights, though." Serena spoke up, turning a bit curious as the two of them, slowly, and with a bit of reluctance, began to follow the program again again.

"What You Refer To As 'Knights.'" The Knight leading them said, "Are, In Fact, Security Drones. Model 1101 'Castellan' security-stroke-defence-stroke-decorative robots manufactured by Godfrey-Baldwin Labs."

"Did you send those..." Serena sighed. So, they were just bots. That was... Well... She admitted, she wasn't too sure what to think of them, but - Serena's gaze turned heavy-lidded. "Security drones after us?"

"Yes." Came a computerized response, with zero capacity for remorse or empathy or hatred or much of any emotion at all. "I Am Also The Control Nexus For The Manor's Security Systems." It said. "I Am Able To Classify Different Persons As Being Intruders Or Welcome Through Complicated Mathematical Algorithms. However, In That Circumstance, I Received An Order From Anabel To Destroy Your Physical Forms." It delivered it all without much fuss or without much emotion at all.

"I..." Serena's gaze shifted to the floor, as Anabel's knight led them up the foyer stairs, back into the second floor. "I see, then." She said, sounding a bit ticked off, but also... Oddly disappointed.

The knight led them through the winding corridors of the second floor, and, finally, at the end of a long hall, stopped at an ornate door, the last one on the wall, and said, "Through here." Serena and Lisa exchanged one last glance at eachother. Lisa looked intrigued, but worried. Serena merely looked worried, but took a deep breath and reached for the doorknob - they had come this far, after all. Better to not keep Anabel waiting.

Serena twisted the knob, and pushed, and the door slowly opened with a loud crrrreeeeeeeeeeeaking noise (which, Serena mused, had been added for dramatic effect). She had, admittedly, been expecting something grand and sinister, which is why she'd ended up awkwardly standing in the doorway, staring into a teenage girl's bedroom. An upper-class teenage girl's bedroom. An ornate four-poster bed with red curtains and matching blankets, piled high with pillows and stuffed animals dominated the room. A bookcase off to one side, a large dresser off to another, a vanity table by the door, and a desk by the window, where Anabel had been sitting, watching the rain, before looking over her shoulder with an expectant - almost curious - expression.

Everything was, Serena reflected, typical of what she'd expect from a rich girl's room - except the swords. Anabel had a lot of them on display. Mostly European blades - arming swords, claymores, and bastard swords, but mostly duelling rapiers and sabres. Serena found a nervous smile creeping onto her face, as she'd remembered the way Anabel had bore down on her. That, and the presence of knights, had made her start to wonder a bit. Anabel - the one infront of them - clearly had a sword fixation - but did was that something the... Other Anabel liked? Or did the real girl and her ghostly copy begin to... Differ, slightly? An odd laugh escaped her lips. She couldn't exactly see a 'gentle girl who loved the whole world' keeping a sword collection.

"Welcome to my realm - properly, this time." Anabel said, and, in the blink of an eye, she'd shifted, going from sitting at the desk, to sitting down on the bed, facing the two girls, with a quizzical smile on her virtual face. "Sit down," She said, gesturing to a pair of armchairs in the corner, which, by Serena's accounts, hadn't been there before.

Neither of the girls was willing to say no, so, the both of them did as told. Sitting down and relaxing - at the very least, trying to - and sizing up the situation. Serena, in particular, was a whirlwind of feelings. It felt odd. She felt a bit tense, and had a bad feeling it was showing. That was because, the last time she was here, Anabel had tried to kill her. Now, though... She put an index finger to her chin. Anabel felt different.

She was still dressed in her long, flowing blue dress with puffy sleeves and fancy dark gray go-boots. She still had long, flowing blonde hair, and ocean blue eyes, but she looked more... Reserved. Anabel looked less intense, less kill-crazy and more... Oddly thoughtful. She was sizing the two of them up, kicking idly with her boots, and the mood Serena could feel off her was... Frustrated, if anything - but not directed at them.

"The program you send to bring us here was pretty... Interesting." Lisa said, breaking the ice. "It's more chatty than ICE usually is."

"My father made it." Anabel responded. "I don't know why he made it like that. It didn't need to talk." She said, tone turning more cold, and almost... Serena raised an eyebrow. Resentful? "But, It's useful, regardless. I hope it made you feel welcome." That just made the girls look a bit uneasy. Anabel didn't sound like she was kidding.

"He... It, was a good host." Serena replied, flatly. "If that's what you're asking."

"Good." Anabel said, leaning forwards off the bed a bit. "Lets' get to business, then." Her tone was turning colder, and more stern. "I assume you know what I brought you here, for?"

Serena took a deep breath, and tried to recline a bit in the armchair. "You want us to do something for you." She said. "Then you'll hear us out."

Anabel nodded, her expression turning more serious. "I hope you're prepared to do whatever it takes." She said. "Because I'm going to ask a lot. I'll take 'no' for an answer, but if you do, then our business is concluded, and if I see either of you again, I'll kill you." She said, and Serena fixed up her tie and Lisa fidgeted in her seat. "Now, then..." She paused, her mood shifting again - the ghost becoming a touch less cold. "My father, Jonas Schwarzwalder, has been murdered." She said, and paused for a moment, and looked a bit confused, eyes drifting towards Serena and Lisa, neither of them looking that shocked, before she added. "I'm getting the impression you knew already."

"I read it on the news." Serena admitted, though, She didn't want to involve Hollace yet - especially when things still felt a bit dicey. "But," She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for your loss, Anabel." She'd also left out the... Oddity that Anabel had technically been murdered as well. Anabel - the real one - had been caught in the crossfire, and perished with her father. Of course... The hacker couldn't fight off the instinct to tug at her digitized collar. Bringing that up now didn't exactly feel smart. Or sane.

"Thank you." Anabel responded, growing more tense, gradually going from cold to red hot. "But I don't want condolences. You know what's happened, don't you?" She asked. "My father's armoured limo had been shot up, and my horrible, scumbag uncle has been taking advantage of the situation to try to steal the company and it's secrets out from under me." She let it hang in the air for a few seconds, before adding. "It's my birthright, you understand. It's mine because it was my father's company. I intend to press my claim" Neither of the girls was willing to challenge it.

Serena just raised an eyebrow, finding something different - and odd - to focus on. "You don't seem to like your uncle much." The hacker said.

"I don't." Anabel replied, tone harsh, and hands balling into fists. "He's a greedy old fool. The man's a vulture. He probably hasn't shown you his bad side, but you two were idiots to take his job offer. He didn't tell you anything at all, did he?" An awkward, vexed expression came onto Serena's face, and Lisa watched it, mildly amused. Technically, she didn't take the offer - she didn't have a choice.

Serena had some inkling of the way Bathrette contracted out the Specials' services. The contracts usually came in from a broker, and were analyzed by a joint Corporate Security, Information Retrieval, and Accounting committee. If they all liked it, they passed it to Commander Sikorski's office for the final analysis and decision of 'yes' or 'no', and if the answer was 'yes', they went back to the client to inform them they'd accepted the offer, and, based on the client's request, selected an agent to handle it. Serena, the one actually carrying out the job, was uninvolved at any stage of the process, and she just summarized it to Anabel by saying, "My bosses handle all of that stuff. I'm just responsible for doing it. We're not mercs."

"Then that explains why you didn't die like the rest of the hackers Hollace sent." Anabel's glare turned harsh and volcanic, her eyes glowing a bit, and Serena felt a lead weight settle in her stomach. "You're the fifth hacker Hollace tried to hire to destroy me. It looks like he's realized mercs can't be trusted to do the job properly." Serena just found her eyes drifting to the window. An... Odd feeling coming over her. She wasn't really sure what to think, or what to say.

"I wonder if he paid in advance..." Lisa mused.

"He's a cheap, greedy old fool." Anabel cracked a grin. "He definitely didn't." She said, more jokey this time, and the mood shifted, calming a bit, and Anabel beginning to look more relaxed, as she leaned back in her bed, propping herself up with both arms. "But we're getting off topic." She said. "What I want from you two is to solve my father's murder. After that, we can come to terms about leaving the mainframe. I would have found the killers myself, but..." Anabel broke eye contact, and began to fidget a bit, beginning to look a bit unsure, and the swing of emotions was making Serena feel a bit... Odd. "I can't leave this place unprotected." Anabel sighed. "If I connect to the wider Matrix, I'll be letting Hollace do whatever he wants. I need to stay here, but..." Serena raised an eyebrow. "I want to come with you!" She quickly added, suddenly sounding very hasty, and Serena looked confused - and a bit agitated.

"What do you mean?" She asked, and Anabel fidgeted a bit.

"Well, I've been here for... A while." Anabel explained, with some reluctance. "I want to protect my father's secrets but... Well..."

"You want to see the world outside?" Lisa suggested, flashing a smile and twirling her pen."

"I guess." Anabel admitted, eyes drifting to the floor. "And I want to go and find the people who killed my father!" She exclaimed, leaning forwards again, suddenly very intense. A different sort of intense. Less murderous, and more... Serena raised an eyebrow. Anxious.

"How are you going to do that, though?" Serena asked. "You said it yourself - you can't leave without exposing the mainframe, and It's not like we can just plug you into something."

"I can make a link between this mainframe and your cyberdeck." Anabel explained. "It's sort of like how you're connecting to my server here, I'll still be on my mainframe, but..." Anabel touched a thumb to her chin. "I'll be able to work through connecting to your computer..." Serena could see an enthusiastic, 'Eureka!' smile come to Anabel's face, mirrored by a nervous grin on hers. She got the impression Anabel wasn't asking.

"Just don't break it again..." Serena replied, and Anabel looked a bit sour for a moment and Serena suddenly found herself worried, her hand twitching, about to jump the gun, but, to her relief, rather than snap into a killing frenzy, Anabel just pouted, and crossed her arms.

"It was one time." The ghost sourly responded.

"Alright, alright..." Serena nervously laughed. "We'll help you." She said, taking a deep breath, mulling over how... Dramatically the mission had just changed. "We'll help find your father's killer." From destroying a ghost, to solving a murder. She just leaned back in the chair. Never a dull moment in the Special Asset Protection Squad...

"And we'll help bring the murderers to justice!" Lisa added, with a coquettish smile. The right thing to say in regular circumstances, but, quicker than either of them could blink, Anabel shot off the bed, a vicious, wrathful expression on her face, leaning in uncomfortably close over Lisa, staring daggers into her hazel eyes, as she just laughed nervously, and Serena locked up, not being able to tell if it was time to act.

"I don't want justice." Anabel starkly responded. "I want revenge."

"What?!" Hollace exclaimed, the portly man's mustachioed face turning shocked on the carphone's display screen, as the Jaguar exited the service tunnel and came back out onto the massive suspension bridge, connecting the domes and the city itself, and allowing the painfully necessary ingress of good and servants. "Serena, this is an unacceptable creep in scope!"

"It's the only practical option we have." Serena's eyes lidded as she focused on the road ahead, wipers dusting away flakes of snow that danced from the fey, violet-gray evening sky, the neon silhouette of the St. Petersburg metropolis towering over them, and threatening to overwhelm the senses. "Anabel was pretty insistent." She took a quick look at her cyberdeck, secured in the backseat, the main monitor flipped up to show a familiar face, and she tightened her grip on the wheel. "Unless you want to shell out for a violent solution."

"I didn't exactly hire a private investigator, Ms. Ramneau." Hollace groaned, and tugged at his collar. In the backseat, on the screen of Serena's cyberdeck, Anabel was beginning to look a bit cross. Hollace, their client, had called them once they were done in the Matrix to ask them for an update, and had been very surprised - not to mention, displeased - to find them already on their way into the city, quite literally chasing ghosts.

"Are you saying," Anabel piped up from the back seat, and Hollace - who, on his end, could just about see her - looked a bit suddenly anxious. Serena couldn't blame him - he had, after all, sent a total of five hackers to exorcise her from his mainframe, and now, she and hacker no. 5 appeared to be in cahoots. "You don't want the person who killed your uncle to be brought to... Justice?" She said, very coldly, managing to make 'justice' sound a lot like what she meant - that was to say, 'revenge.'

Anabel had done, as she said she would in the Matrix, made a link between Serena's cyberdeck and the Schwarzwalder Manor mainframe, through which she could work. At the moment, it took the form of what could be thought of as a video call - Anabel's avatar appeared on Serena's cyberdeck, and she could work through the modem and router of her machine to interface with other technology - as she'd demonstrated earlier by changing the Jaguar's clock out of daylight savings time before Serena asked her to stop.

"Well, of course I do... Anabel!" He said, addressing her after all the violence becoming quite... Awkward. Anabel, meanwhile, just continued to glare at him - which, Serena mused, she ought to have expected, considering he'd essentially tried to have her killed. "I want my brother and niece..." He noticed a sharp glare from Anabel in the backseat and pinched his mustache. "My brother to be able to rest easy, but this is the sort of job for the police to handle!... You've already come this far..." He said, laughing a bit, trying to dispel the tension and largely failing, Anabel continuing to stare daggers into him. "Why don't we talk about you leaving my mainframe peacefully, then?"

"I already did." Anabel rebuked him, her tone harsh and unforgiving, as Serena's eyes drifted off to her left, watching where the Chenier Canal disgorged into the sea. "And those are my terms. You and I both know you don't have any room to negotiate... Uncle."

"I don't see why you think it's going to be so insurmountable, Mr. Schwarzwalder." Lisa, riding shotgun again, said from over her dataslate. "It's not like the trail's gone cold - I've already found a lead on this. I think we can have Anabel's man in a week - two, if it runs long."

"A week?!" Hollace's eyes went wide, and he leaned into the screen, sounding shocked and indignant from the other end of the phone line. "Try months! The damn Mounties have been looking since November, and they don't even have a suspect! Your... Sense of justice is commendable, but you have to come down to earth!" He sounded... Odd, she noticed. Mostly reproachful, but quite nervous as well.

"Is it the cost?" Serena asked. "I still think this is cheaper - not to mention, better for everyone," She snatched a quick glance over at Anabel, through the rear view mirror. "Than the alternative."

"Well..." Hollace sighed, and laughed a bit - slightly painfully. "I suppose so. I've already paid in advance, and I've gotten another quote for Ms. Klauetzer's presence..." He just groaned, and shook his head, and Lisa raised an eyebrow at that.

"Really?" She sounded a bit shocked. "You actually paid in advance?!"

"Well..." An awkward look came on Hollace's mustachioed face as he tugged at his collar. "Not ALL in advance. A down payment, as a matter of fact." He sighed. "Your company employs some very shrewd negotiators, Ms. Klauetzer."

"Then I don't think we have anything else to discuss... Uncle." Anabel said, from the backseat, as, in the front, Serena was a bit busy with the gatekeepers. She'd needed to show the attendant her drivers' license, car registration card, company ID, and dragon-patterned Special Asset Protection Squad badge before he'd been convinced to raise the reinforced steel gate and letting her out in the city. "Unless you THINK you have a good reason for why I shouldn't find the man who killed my father." She said, which, the gate guard completely ignored, as Serena sped off into the city, rolling her eyes at all the security. Rich nobs sure were paranoid, although... Her red eyes drifted, looking into the mirror, where, Anabel was crossing her arms. Considering what had happened to Jonas, maybe there was a point to it - after all, if you were rich, you probably had enemies...

Hollace just sighed, and needed to wipe a bit of sweat off his forehead. "Well, I don't think I can change your mind, Anabel." He said. "I don't quite remember my niece ever being this... Wilful." He said, and, to Serena's surprise, Anabel, for a moment, looked a bit... Shocked. Her eyes drifted down, and she fidgeted in the display, before, she just took a deep breath and composed herself.

"I've had to start learning to stand up for myself." Anabel responded, through clenched teeth, and Hollace just looked away, and laughed nervously. Serena's gaze turned a bit more reserved as she focused on the road ahead, watching the city roll into view.

It was like a mountain from here, she mused. Shorter, stouter, older, brick and mortar and concrete construction dominated closer to the Canal, and, the roofline gradually rose as Serena's eyes scanned the area outside her windshield. Smaller buildings got higher and higher, their facades getting more intricate and detailed. More neon. More gargoyles and relief carvings and statues, and, at the apex, the massive corporate skyscrapers dominated the city, the Skyroad spanning between them like the branches of a tree, bathed in neon light, dusted with snow, and... Serena took a deep breath. The murderer - plural, in all likelihood, since, the article HAD said it was a gang of criminals responsible - they were looking for, somewhere deep within.

"Then I suppose," Hollace continued. "I'll have to acquiesce, BUT." He turned more serious, and leaned a bit into the screen, messing up his comb-over a bit. "I have to insist, especially since I'm PAYING for this, I want you to regularly update me on your progress." He said. you will need to keep me up to date on what you're doing. First, Ms. Klauetzer," He turned over to Lisa, who looked up from his tablet. "I want to know exactly what lead you're pursuing."

"Do I have to?" Lisa whined a bit. Hollace glowered at her, Serena's expression turned heavy-lidded, and Anabel just looked distant, and she groaned, and relented. "Well, fine." She turned her dataslate over, so the webcam - and Hollace - could see, and, Serena, divided her focus a bit (in a way her driving instructor would doubtlessly disapprove of) to look at the file photo of an older, Eastern European man in day labourer's clothes, with dark, thinning hair, and gaunt facial features. "After Anabel talked with-"

"To." Anabel corrected, and Lisa groaned.

"After we were done, I did a bit of digging, and thought we'd start in the same place the police did, and speak with the one survivor of the attack..." She flashed a proud, teachers-pet grin. "Yuri Sazonov." She said. "Jonas' driver. A person who literally had a front-row view of the attack."

"I see, then..." Hollace responded, taking a deep breath and fixing his collar, and Serena raised an eyebrow, finding an... Odd gleam in his eyes. It felt like anger, but not quite. Serena thought he looked almost... Evasive. "I'm afraid I can't tell you too much about him - he was an employee, though, I never spoke with him personally." Hollace said, turning just a bit more stern. "I won't keep you any longer, then. I want you to keep me in the loop, but, likewise, get in touch if you need anything else from me." He cracked a slightly dry, sarcastic smile. "You are still being paid for - might as well make sure you can do your work properly." And, at that, he hung up, and Serena took a deep breath, and stepped on the gas.

Mr. Sazonov, as it turns out, lived a life that could be charitably described as 'modest', and uncharitably as "deprived." Lisa had, earlier, tracked the surviving driver to a coffin hotel in a neighbourhood called Summervale Creek, and Anabel had stuck a marker on the car's map. Despite the name, there was a distinct lack of anything summery, or a creek. In fact, It wasn't a very nice place.

Summervale Creek was harsh and austere, characterized by tall, imposing concrete housing projects. All the windows at ground level - and some higher - had bars over the windows, every fence was topped with razor wire, and there was graffiti on almost every surface that could be reached. Rough-looking people lived here, hanging out in alleyways, in the dives and bars, huddling around burning braziers, and Serena, as they drove through, kept her hands tight on the wheel, and her handgun within easy reach, glancing occasionally to make sure the doors were locked.

It wasn't that she was scared. It was more like a... Lower level nervousness. A sense of unbelonging. A feeling of encroaching trouble. Nothing good happened in a place like this. As a matter of fact - Serena's blood turned to ice, and her whole expression turned anxious, as they passed by a familiar-looking grocery store, and a familiar looking cigarette machine, and felt a cloying, stuck feeling in her stomach and fought down the urge to grab her throat.

"Are you alright?" Lisa asked, and Serena quickly snapped out of it, composing herself, taking in a deep breath, and loosening up her grip on the wheel - and pushing down a bit more on the throttle.

"No, Sorry..." Serena just laughed it off. "I just thought I saw someone I knew - I didn't." She lied, and needed to brush off Lisa's immediate response of 'who!' with something about it being someone from school, can't remember the name, could put the face. More lies, obviously, but if she'd just said, 'nothing,' Lisa would probably have a field day with her... She laughed, nervously.

No, she'd been here before. They'd just passed the store, where, after a long, celebratory joyride on a rainy night to celebrate cheating death, Serena had nearly met it for real. A nasty encounter with 'The Gentleman Thief' Euler, and his knife, and discovering the odd, narcotic effect she'd had when drinking from other people. She leaned back in the drivers' seat, and tried to relax. It was not something she'd wished to repeat, and, the experience just affirmed, in her head, nothing good could come of lingering in a place like this. It was lousy with gangsters, and Eulers of all sorts. It was trouble, and... Serena groaned. "Well, how are we gonna keep the car from getting stolen?" She asked. Driving around in a luxury sedan was probably a bad idea, unless you intended to speed through and not bother stopping.

"Parking it somewhere out of sight might be our best bet." Lisa said, touching stylus to her glasses again. "And close by. Does this car have an immobilizer on it?"

"I believe it does." Anabel piped up from the back-seat. "It also has a remote tracker." She sighed. "Which, I think is more bad than good."

Serena raised an eyebrow. "Bad, how?"

A moody and wry smile crept up on Anabel's face in the screen of her cyberdeck. "It's good because we can find out where it is if it gets stolen." She explained. "But mostly bad, since, it's Hollace's car - and he's got the tracking computer." An awkward silence hung over the car. There wasn't a need to elaborate.

"Do you think he's spying on us?" Lisa piped up, turning over her shoulder towards Anabel, and an awkward smile crossed Serena's face. She almost looked excited at the prospect.

"I don't really think so." Serena shrugged her shoulders. "I don't think he can - He did demand to be kept 'in the know.'"

"You think he wouldn't try to do it anyways?" Lisa asked, spinning the stylus in her fingers.

Serena sighed, and adjusted her hands on the steering wheel. "I dunno." She admitted. "He might, but I don't think I can see it."

Lisa just snickered at that. "You can't see it?" She said, sarcastic and disbelieving, and Serena just groaned. "Don't tell me you're going soft on me, little-miss-cynic." She just rolled her eyes at that.

"I'm not saying I like him, little-miss nosy." Serena cracked a sharp, teasing grin, and Lisa, smile intensifying, gave her a cattish look from behind her spectacles. "I'm just not seeing anything to be paranoid about, here. Lazerian? Yeah, I can see him doing that. He's an evil person, though. Hollace is just a greedy old idiot."

"Who tried to exorcise me from my server and steal my father's secrets from under me." Anabel added, sounding cross, and Serena sighed.

"Well, fine, I guess he's not the most wholesome person in the world." Serena took a deep breath. "I'll start being suspicious of him, then." She added, with a bit of dry, biting sarcasm.

The Coffin Hotel where Mr. Sazonov was staying soon came into view outside the Jaguar's windows. Horizontal Space being at a premium in St. Petersburg, it was tall, and loomed over the street, but it was rather thin, and reserved in it's styling. The distinguishing feature of the building was a large video screen, perpendicular to the surface and hanging over the road, advertising to passers by, that the '9805 E. Hastings Street Economy Pods' offered nightly rates, laundry services, and unrestricted matrix access by the hour.

Unfortunately for them, an amenity it lacked was a parking garage. Anyone who slept in these places didn't have their own vehicle anyways, but, that meant the only secluded place to park was down a dark, narrow alley, where the risk of theft was high, and the risk of ruining the paint job, higher. So, Serena ended up finding an empty space infront of the coffin hotel itself, in plain view. The thought went, that if it were stolen, there would at least be witnesses.

Cyberdeck slung across her back, Serena and Lisa's boots made a satisfying crunching noise on the thin layer of snow that had already formed on the sidewalk. The two girls went up the small staircase, onto the porch and through the sliding glass doors, out of the cold and into a rather austere and dismal looking check-in lounge, with tan concrete walls, gray tile floors, and a stucco ceiling, bathed in stark, white fluorescent light, that even a string of Christmas lights and a wreath haphazardly placed on the wall couldn't cheer up.

Opposite the door, was a desk with a terminal and a massive rack of keys behind it, manned by a very bored looking receptionist - a young girl with messy, brown hair, a starched, white dress shirt that barely hid her tattoos, and black tube skirt, who took a solid five seconds to realize they were there, before groaning, looking up from her screen, and saying, "Welcome to the Hastings St. Economy Pods." In a dreary tone. Like they were inconveniencing HER. "Checking in?"

"No, we're looking for a guest." Serena planted a hand down on the counter. "A Mr. Yuri Sazonov. Is he in?"

At the mention of that name, the receptionist's demeanour harshly shifted, flinching back for a second, eyes wide, before settling down, growing more irritated, and moaning, "Oh God. Not more pigs."

"We're not cops." Serena took a deep breath and adjusted her scarf. "We just need to talk with him."

"Well if you're not police, then I don't need to listen to you." The girl shot her a smug look. "Mr. Sazonov was explicit in his request - he's not seeing any more guests - taking any more questions."

"Seriously?!" Serena's expression turned harsh, and she leaned in over the desk, both hands planted on the wooden surface, and the receptionist flinched back. "It's important. We're not cops, but it's about a murder." She said, leaking out just a bit of venom in her words, and the receptionist started to fidget a bit, smugness drying up.

"I..." The receptionist coughed, tough girl attitude beginning to erode, just a bit. "I'm sorry, lady, he's really not taking any more visitors."

"Why don't you just ask?" Lisa stepped forwards, putting on a small smile and adjusting her glasses, playing good not-a-cop to Serena's impatient not-a-cop. "If you explain it properly, I'm sure he'll see it our way, and then we could leave..."

"I- I mean... Oh, Fine! But then, buzz off!" She yelled, before diverting her gaze back to the terminal and quickly typing into the keyboard, the click-clack briefly overpowering the humming of the fluorescent lights overhead. "What should I tell him?" She sarcastically asked.

Serena paused for a second, impatience starting to clear up a bit. "Tell him we're detectives-"

"Contractors." Lisa corrected. "Working on behalf of the WalderSoft Corporation, and we just want to ask him for clarification on a few details."

"Had a feeling you were corporate stooges..." The receptionist muttered under her breath. "Goddamn suits..." Another keystroke, and a short, but awkward pause in the lobby of the Hastings St. Economy Pods, the receptionist avoiding Serena's gaze and focusing on the monitor, before her eyes went wide, and she muttered, "Seriously?"

"Huh?" Serena and Lisa both responded at once, and the receptionist just sighed, a disappointed look on her face.

"He's saying he'll see you two." She explained, clearly as surprised as they were, and none too pleased about it. "He's on Floor 17, Capsule 21. North Wing."

"Well..." Serena crossed her arms. "Wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"Yeah." The receptionist responded, looking away, back into the screen of her terminal. "Don't rough him up, or I'll kick you out." She said, clenching her teeth. "He's a nice guy - he's just been through alot." the two girls heading towards the elevators, as Serena took in a deep breath.

"Will do..." She said, suddenly feeling a bit awkward, and she groaned, and her expression turned somewhere between guilty and... Admittedly, still a bit vexed.

"Temper, temper." Lisa sarcastically commented as Serena hit the call button, and rolled her eyes.

"I guess I'm just a bit on edge." Serena groaned, her expression mellowing out and looking a bit shameful. She felt a bit more sympathetic - the receptionist was just trying to do the right thing, but... She shook her head. "I've been taking a lot of attitude from teenagers today..."

A chime rang. Her cell phone - Serena pulled it out, and went from confused to sardonic as she saw the message, from the 1-800 number she'd added into her contact list as "Anabel," and sighed, and a dry smile coming to her lips as she read the message aloud, "Not sorry," and a laugh escaped Lisa's mouth, and Serena visibly lightened up a bit, looking more amused.

"Well, you're different." Serena just said aloud this time, peering over her shoulder, at the cyberdeck slung across her back, making a mental note to mind what she said aloud...

"How?" Anabel's next text message came.

"Well..." Her gaze drifted to the ceiling, needing a moment to think. "I dunno." She said. "I think I just like you better, so I'm more willing to let it slide. Plus..." A wily smile crossed her face. "I also don't want you breaking my cyberdeck again, so I'm more inclined to put up with you."

"Fair." Anabel sent.

"Don't push your luck, though." She joked.

Anabel's next message just confused her at first. "You're welcome, by the way."

"Huh?" She and Lisa said in unison, once again.

"I sent the message to the receptionist's computer." Anabel texted, just as the elevator arrived, and both girl's eyes went wide. Lisa looked surprised, while Serena just looked... Impressed.

Lisa went in first, and Serena followed and waited for the elevator doors to close behind them before saying, "You hacked into the hotel's server?"

"From your cyberdeck." Anabel clarified. "I don't know who did the security for their network, but it was so easy to breach, I almost feel bad. Almost."

The elevator began to move, up towards the thirty-seventh floor, as a half proud, half sardonic grin came onto Serena's face. "How sly." She remarked. "You'd make a pretty good hacker, Anabel."

The ghost just texted Serena back with a " >:) "

A glassy, hollow clang came as Serena knocked agent the foggy, frosted glass panel of Capsule 21's door. One capsule among a cluster of others in this coffin hotel. Stacked two high, with just enough space for someone to crawl into and lie down, differentiated only by the number plate bolted onto the door.

Some quick mental math on Serena's part produced a sum of thirty two pods on this floor. Sixteen per wing. Small communal area in the centre with a tiny kitchen and vending machines. Bathrooms at both ends. With twenty floors, more - and longer - mental math in Serena's head revealed a grand total of 640 occupants. All crammed into a square footage just over two and a half times that of her company apartment...

"You know..." Lisa piped up, taking it all in, somewhat antsy - Hemmed in, was Serena's impression. "I've never been in one of these places before."

"Count yourself lucky." Serena joked, though, the faint grin couldn't suppress her unease. There were hundreds of coffin hotels like this, all over the city, and it was where you would, in all likelihood, be stuck in without money, luck, or realistically, both. She took a deep breath, a fey look coming over her face. It felt like being in a battery coop - but for men, rather than chickens.

She didn't need to dwell on it for too long, as, soon enough, Serena's ears picked up the sound of a lock sliding out of place, as the door to Capsule 21 creaked open, just a crack, an eye peering out, and Serena adjusted her scarf and tried to put on a reassuring expression.

"Mr. Sazonov?" Serena asked, leaning in, a small warm smile on her face. The pod's lights were off, and interior was pitch-black; even with her enhanced eyesight, the vampire could just about barely see the outline of the inhabitant's gaunt face.

"What do you want?" He barked. Accented, but in tone, sounding more... Nervous than anything else, Serena realized. Yuri looked much of the same as he had in the file photo. He looked some variety of Eastern European, though, his hair was starting to grow in a bit, and he had a bit of stubble on his face, and massive, black bags under his eyes, and wore a set of gray, wrinkled coveralls. What was different - and immediately made Serena's stomach turn - were the map of scars he bore. Fresh ones. A series of pink lines, running criss-cross along his face, and Serena's blood turned to ice, as she realized where they'd came from.

"We just want to talk." Serena explained. "About-"

"No, no, no!" Yuri flinched back, closing his eyes, turning away and holding up a hand to protect himself. "Go away!" He snapped. "I've told you vultures enough already! Can't you just leave me alone!?"

"We're not from the papers." Lisa piped in, a more warm, earnest expression on her face - mirrored by an awkward smile from Serena, as she noticed the dataslate and stylus in her hands.

"Or the Mounties." Serena added, with a cough, and the man inside the pod went from agitated to confused - and irritable.

"Then who are you?" Yuri nervously demanded. "I already know what you want." He added.

"Private investigators." Lisa responded, very quickly, like she'd been rehearsing this in her head, and Serena... Just nodded. It was true, technically. Sort of. Especially with the mission creep. "We're looking into the assassination on behalf of the Schwarzwalder Family." Again, true. Anabel - despite being a digitized copy of a dead girl - still counted.

There was a long, uncomfortable stillness in the air, Yuri sizing them up, as the fluorescent lights buzzed overheads "I've told everything I know to the police already." He said, a careful reluctance to his choice of words and his tone. "There's nothing more I can tell you-"

"Please." Serena said, leaning in a bit. "We're trying to bring the killers to justice." A sarcastic feeling crept into the back of her mind, though, Anabel - a bit tactful - didn't bother to correct her this time. Although she could feel a strange buzz from her cyberdeck as she said that. "Anything you can tell us about the attack would help."

"Justice..." Yuri took a deep breath from inside the darkness of the pod. "That's a job for the police." He said. "You two had better go-"

A chime rang from Serena's pocket, and she suddenly turned a bit confused, giving way to nervousness as she - and Lisa - read off the text message.

"I'll talk to him." Anabel sent, and a look of surprise came onto Serena's face as she processed it. "He might listen to me. Show him your cyberdeck."

Yuri said nothing, merely watching from the shadows, as Serena took a deep breath, and wordlessly unslung her cyberdeck, planting it down on the tan tiles and flipping the monitor up, revealing the digitized face of Anabel, and the mood seemed to shift with an audible SNAP, the man's eyes going wide from within the shadows, before a flood of light erupted from inside the pod. The door swung open, revealing both Yuri and his austere living conditions. A temperfoam mattress formed the floor, covered in wrinkled blankets, with a pillow at the back. Compartments behind the pillow to provide some storage. embedded in the left-hand wall was a fold-out desk and screen, both currently out of use. It was the default living arrangement for most of St. Petersburg, for those without the money or time on a waitlist to get an apartment you could stand up in, though, none of that was on Serena's mind - the vampire currently focused on the intense, almost frightened expression on Yuri's face.

"Yuri." The ghost greeted him, and he flinched.

"Anabel?!" Yuri's voice was shaky and uncertain, and his eyes were wide - despite being digitized, and stylized, he'd recognized her and her voice in a heartbeat. "I... What?!... You're dead!-"

"I'm not dead." The ghost's tone and expression turned harsh, and Serena felt a touch of nerves, though, Lisa looked more... Interested than anything else, just writing in her slate and occasionally adjusting her spectacles with the flat end of her stylus, saying nothing.

"You've served my family for years." Anabel continued, calming down a bit - a small, almost warm smile forming on her face. "And I need your help one last time."

"This is a trick..." Yuri took a deep breath, and Anabel shook her head, her expression turning a tiny bit choleric.

<"It's not a trick." Anabel replied, her tone harsh, but... Wavering a bit. As though she sounded a bit doubtful, herself. "I'd like to introduce more of my... Staff." She said, and Serena and Lisa locked eyes, a bit awkwardly. "Serena and Lisa. They work for me. You can trust them." She said./p>

"I-"

"Yuri..." A long pause hung in the air, like grave mist, and Anabel closed her eyes, her expression turning disquieted, and she said, "Please." Almost desperately, and Serena and Lisa both looked surprised. "I promise, we'll leave you alone after this." She paused for a moment. "Just tell me what you can about the attack.

Yuri let that hang in the air for a while, fidgeting with his hands, lost in thought, visibly uncertain and conflicted. After a few seconds, he finally sighed, and said, "Alright, Anabel." and the ghost looked attentive and purposeful in the screen. "I'll tell you everything I told the police."

He poked his head out from the pod, looking around, making sure they were alone, and Serena found herself joining in, to Lisa's amusement, peering around the hall, into the common rooms, towards the bathroom at the far end... Serena felt her veins turn to ice. She could have sworn she'd heard something - the squeak of shoes against tile somewhere far off, but Yuri took a deep breath, and didn't seem to have found anything, so she just let it slide, as Yuri began regaling the details of the attack, in more vivid, gory detail than what had been in the news.

It was a day like any other. Jonas Schwarzwalder had clocked out for the day, and his car had finished the first leg of its route - From WalderSoft HQ, downtown, to Beattley Girls' College, to pick up Anabel, and they were on their way to The Domes, rolling down Grand Boulevard, and the hairs on Serena's neck stood on edge as he described the massive skybridge hanging over the road, linking both halves of the Olympic Town Center shopping mall. It was practically a wing of the mall in and of itself - a three storey structure of richly decorated glass, steel, and masonry, defined by four large, rounded turrets - two on each side, and of course, plastered in advertisements and digitized billboards. Yuri usually never paid it any mind, but, that day, something felt off about it.

He'd noticed something in one of the turrets' decorative windows. They were normally closed, but one of them, the lowest one to the street, looked open, and Yuri had to squint his eyes a bit, catching a glimpse of something glassy and reflective inside. He broke eye contact with Anabel, shaking a bit, and explaining that, when he'd told this to the Mounties' inspector, he'd said that he saw the glimmer of light off an optical gun sight. Serena and Anabel suddenly looked pale, and Anabel just stared forwards, her expression attentive, but strangely... Distant.

"And that's when?-" Serena asked, and Yuri nervously nodded his head, took a deep breath, and began describing the attack. The way the muzzle flash erupted in the opened window. He'd seen the it burst out a moment before he'd heard the weapon. His blood turned to ice as the POM-POM-POM sound rang in his ears. The force he'd felt as the first shell slammed into the engine block like the fist of an angry god, tearing into his bones, grinding his nerves, and crushing his flesh. The screeching of the tires. The screams, he still had nightmares about. The bite of shrapnel tearing into his face. The fireball that had burnt and blinded and battered him when a shell hit the hydrogen lines. The flames licking his skin like the devil's tongue. The smoke scourging his throat like a vaporous knout. The sensation of being on his side, blood running down his face, flames inching closer as burning hydrogen shot out from the car. The sirens and panicked cries in his ears as his vision faded to black...

The driver needed a second to pause. A moment to calm. A second to stop shaking. A bit to retrieve a metal flask from inside the pod and take a desperate drink with his shaky hands, strong-smelling alcohol spilling from his lips and onto the blankets below.

"I didn't expect to survive." Yuri said, wiping his lips with the edge of his sleeve. "I woke up in a hospital, and I'd been told i was lucky..." He broke eye contact again, and violently swore, in what Serena thought was Russian. "Bad scarring. Smoke inhalation. Minor soft tissue injuries." He started to laugh a bit. Manic, and miserable. "No broken bones or vital damage. That's what the doctor said." He took another swig of strong liquor. "Lucky. That I survived and they didn't..."

Another still, grave silence hung in the air before Serena broke it with a question. "What about the attackers?" She asked. "Did you see anything about them besides a muzzle flash?"

Yuri closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and bitterly shook his head. "Not a thing." He admitted. "But if it helps, I know for a fact these people were professional killers. Not random gangsters."

"Professionals?" Anabel asked, a sudden agitation, and curiosity flaring up on her tone. "How are you sure?"

"Because it was a setup." Yuri growled, taking another drink. "The attackers knew where we were going, and the perfect spot for an ambush, and slipped the cops afterwards..." He shuddered violently. "And our car." He said. "Armour plating. Even the glass could deflect .30 calibre bullets. They just went right through it."

Something flashed in Serena's eyes. "So they weren't using ordinary weapons, then..."

Yuri shook his head, and turned tense, and reluctant. "I'm not a gun expert." He admitted. "But they used a goddamn cannon. Military grade stuff. Went right through the armour plates like it wasn't there..." He shuddered took a few deep breaths, and looked up at Serena and Lisa, suddenly very agitated, and the girls were, too. "Be careful!" He exclaimed, pointing a finger at them. "The men you're looking for are... Dangerous!" He said. "Watch your back at all times! People like that will hit... Whenever! At times you'd least expect!"

He took a deep breath, and Serena raised an eyebrow. "We'll be careful..." She said, her voice trailing off a bit. "But, is that everything?" She asked. Something felt incomplete. Yuri's expression turned reluctant and cagey, but then, he looked down, into Anabel's eyes, and sighed, quickly breaking eye contact and taking another drink - a long deep one, and wiped his lips off again.

"Yes." He quickly said. "Now go away, and leave me be..." That was a lie. Serena knew it. She wanted to press it, but one look in his eyes, at his restless, pained expression, made her tongue go slack and her blood turn to ice, and she sat there, a bit awkward, and unsteady, unsure how to continue.

"Are you sure?" Anabel asked, from the cyberdeck, and Yuri looked down. Pausing. Unsure. Unsteady, visibly conflicted and guilty and closing his eyes and clenching his teeth, before he finally leaned out, eyes wide.

"No!... I mean!..." He pulled back, had another drinky, and sighed, waving his hand, his expression looking almost... Dead, before saying. "One more thing... It's... It's not about the attackers, but I haven't told the police and... And..." A mad, haggard expression fell onto his face, his eyes opening wide, as he exclaimed. "It's my fault!" Hands balling into fists, and Anabel looked... Oddly surprised. "Anabel, it's my fault your father's dead!"

Serena and Lisa were speechless, but Anabel, in the monitor, looked taken aback. Her expression frazzled and shocked and... Serena raised an eyebrow, as she looked down and caught her expression. Almost ashamed?

"What do you mean?" She asked, and her voice seemed... Drained of choler, and was beginning to waver a bit. "Yuri, did you-?"

"I swerved." The driver admitted, the words emerging as painfully as barbed wire. "When the shooting started, I panicked. His hands began to shake. "I tried to turn the car around but it didn't work and all I did was turn the back of the car, where you and your dad were, towards the window..." Yuri fell silent, taking more deep breaths, another swig of liquor, and finally stammering out, "I'm sorry, Anabel... Just..." He took a deep breath. "Just go!" He said, and slammed the capsule door closed, to everyone's surprise. Threw the lock, turned out the lights, and left the three of them, perplexed, and - Anabel especially,a bit agitated.

The buzzing of fluorescent lights, and the scratching of stylus on screen hung in the air, and no one said a word, Anabel just stared, up, forlornly at the capsule door, a blank expression on her face, and, as Serena reached over, about to knock on the door again, she snapped, turning more serious and alarmed as she said, "Don't!"

"Are you alright?" Serena said, crouching down to look at Anabel, as the ghost avoided her gaze."

"I don't know what I am." Anabel admitted, looking down, and Serena's expression turned a bit uneasy. "I don't know what to feel. He looked... Broken." She shook her head. "Yuri seemed to think it was his fault that I-..." She shook her head. "That my father died."

"Do you agree?" Serena asked, without thinking, and regretted it, recoiling back as Anabel's expression turned vicious and her hands balled into fists.

"No I don't!" She yelled back, and, the choler drained as quickly as it came, Anabel turning more anxious and sorrowful, as she closed her eyes. "He... He looked so sad." She said. "He'd survived, but he looked like he wished he didn't..."

Serena took a deep breath, and sat down, cross-legged on the floor infront of her cyberdeck, and looking into the screen, needing to think for a moment, before it hit her. "He feels guilty." She explained. "He survived and you...r father didn't, and he blames himself."

Anabel pouted a bit in the monitor, her gaze drifting downwards. "He shouldn't." An odd flash of emotion came onto her face. Guilty, almost. "It wasn't his fault - he shouldn't have to feel like that."

"Oh! Guys!" Lisa piped in, drifting over Serena's shoulder, the both of them still a bit contemplative - and confused. Serena still didn't quote know how to take all this, and Anabel still looked distant and melancholer, and it was making her feel a bit... She tugged at her scarf. Antsy. Anabel looked a bit pained, and Serena found she didn't like to see the young girl like that. "Sorry, I hate to interrupt the moment." She continued, with a slight hint of sarcasm, "But I managed to find this article on the net from what Yuri was telling us."

She turned the dataslate over to Serena, and her eyes went wide, and her blood boiled, and she quickly stood up - to Lisa's slight panic, but, she took a deep breath, and managed to compose herself, cracking an awkward grin, and, one more time, read off what her friend had wrote, in elegant, flourishing cursive script: "WE'RE BEING WATCHED. LOOK NATURAL."

"When did you find this?" Serena quickly reached down, and closed the monitor of her cyberdeck and slung it back over her shoulder, and Lisa flinched a bit.

"Just a few minutes ago." She, rather aggressively, pointed down to the 'look natural' part, and Serena rolled her eyes. "I noticed it while Anabel and Yuri were talking."

"Interesting stuff..." Serena just looked over to the tablet, and pretended to be paying attention, an awkward look on her face. "Why don't we go over it in the car?"

Lisa looked confused for a second, and Serena sighed, grabbed the tablet, and wrote down, "JUST FOLLOW MY LEAD." In less elegant printing, before handing it back, and Lisa cracked a dry smile.

"Ah." She adjusted her glasses, as the two of them began making their way down the halls of the coffin hotel at an... Awkwardly languid pace. While Serena undid some - but not all - of the buttons on her coat. Both trying to look natural, but... Serena laughed, nervously. It was hard, she realized, to look natural when you were trying to. At all other times, it just came, er, naturally, but at the moment... She took a deep breath. The two of them both looked like they were very obviously trying their hardest NOT to look suspicious.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as the girl's boots rapped against the tile, tense, almost a bit nervous. As they came into the common area, Lisa gestured over, with a bit of subtlety, towards the stairwell door, beside the elevators, and the two of them made their move, Serena's eyes and ears alert, nervousness creeping into her veins as they picked up the pace a bit, going from a slow creep to outright speed-walking by the time they went through the door, Serena's trigger finger beginning to twitch.

Her eyes sharpened. Her ears picked up the sound of rapid shoes against concrete somewhere below, and, abandoning all subtlety, Serena bolted into action, a flame suddenly erupting from within as she dashed down into the stairwell after it, barely paying any mind to Lisa calling out, "Wait!" behind and above her.

Her boots crashed against the steps, and Serena undid the last few buttons on her coat as she cleaned another landing and turned, one hand grasping the rail and one holding the strap of her cyberdeck tightly. Whoever their mystery eavesdropper was, Serena mused. He was good. He was cautious. He'd bolted at the first sign of trouble and was already halfway to the stairs by the time Lisa had gotten her attention. And he was fast. Serena took a deep breath of air, as she cleared another landing. Fast enough to escape?

She rapidly descended the stairs, her long, denim-clad legs clearing two at a time now, on the verge of tripping and breaking her teeth. Breathing in, out, rhythmically. In time with her feet. Adrenaline rushing through her, blood boiling in her veins. Getting closer. She could feel it!-

The door. Her eyes went wide. Another landing cleared, and she saw, on the floor below, the door onto whatever floor this was swinging back into it's frame, and she wondered for a moment if this was some sort of trick. A flash of hesitation came into her eyes. Could it? The timing was... Too good. But her quarry couldn't have known - half a second later and she'd have missed it, and opening it would have cost valuable time that could be used for fleeing... A nervous, but manic grin came over her. It couldn't be a good bluff!...

Call it fifty-fifty odds. Maybe sixty-forty. Serena didn't see herself as a gambler, but reasoned, maybe, it was more likely than not he'd gone this way, and, when she'd found herself on the landing, she turned and stormed through the door, trusting her logic and her luck and rushing forwards, out into another common room, and her eyes sharpening as she saw, a flash, dashing into the left-hand chamber, and a poor civvy in workman's clothes hit the floor in a rush of swearing and a "Hey, watch it, asshole!" and Serena, to his surprise, finally drew her handgun and bounded after him, rounding the corner, a very pleased - and fierce, like a cat spying a plump mouse - smile coming onto her face as she saw, at the far end of the hall, the door to the bathroom slam shut infront of her.

Serena wasted no time, rushing down the hall, boots on time, surging forwards towards the bathroom door, and finding a flash of choler shoot up her neck as she pulled on the knob, which revealed their mystery eavesdropper had the sense to lock the door behind him. A look somewhere between fearful and violently angry came onto her face, bad memories of a certain evil scientist's escape rang in her mind, and she found herself screaming. "Unlock this damn door!" at the top of her lungs, delivering several thunderous kicks into the lock with her riding boot, attracting some odd and nervous rubberneckers, peering around corners and outside of pod doors to watch her fail to breach the lock, frustration and blind rage crashing over her, before, she took a deep breath, and decided to switch tactics, and, feeling her nanite-enriched blood burn inside of her, lunged forward like a rugby player and violently threw herself into the door, screaming out in a frenzy.

The first blow did little but hurt her shoulder. The second, she could feel a bit of 'give' from the bolts holding the door in, and on the third time she threw her whole body into the door and it collapsed in on it's hinges, falling against the white bathroom tile as Serena rushed in, weapon at the ready, and a man in a long trenchcoat and hat - and already halfway into the fire escape started to panic. He tried to scramble out of the frosted glass window, but, Serena, acting quickly, grabbed him by his right leg, and, her blood seething in her veins, violently pulled him in - with more force than what he was expecting, judging by his panicked yelling. Serena ravenously dragged him back into the bathroom, and the two of them collapsed down onto the tile. The man fell, back to the floor, hat falling off his head, revealing a head of messy, sandy brown hair, and Serena had managed to position herself ontop of him. He violently swore and tried to throw her off, but suddenly paused, eyes wide going wide for a moment, before calming down, an awkward smile crawling onto his face as he realized Serena, ontop of him, had a hand on his throat and was giving him a very good look at the rifling of her handgun.

"That's..." Serena's victim found himself laughing a bit. "Not a very ladylike way to say hello, miss."

"How fitting." Serena cracked a dry, heavy-lidded smile from on top of him. "That wasn't a gentlemanly way to introduce yourself either, spying on us like that."

"I suppose you won't have a merciful ear if I tell you I'm an innocent victim of circumstance, will you?" The man said, a nervous grin on his face, and Serena groaned. A weirdo, whoever he was. Dressed like some sort of spy, with a long, brown woolly trench coat and a matching hat that'd landed on the floor; he only didn't bother retrieving it because of the gun in his face. He wore white silk gloves, dark red waistcoat and slacks, and a black tie and black wingtip shoes. Serena found herself loath to admit it, but he was even a bit attractive, with a chiselled, mature face like a rich playboy, and a spry, cocky confidence to his attitude - even while staring down her handgun barrel. Serena just cracked a smile, and shook her head, and the man laughed.

"Well, then..." He briefly raised his hand, to his collar, but a prod from Serena's gun sharpened his eyes and he put it back to the tile floor. The bathroom they were in was a bit like a hostel's - cramped. The centre area they were in had a sink and mirror and a frosted glass window out to the fire escape, and the world beyond. The left had three toilet stalls, and the right had two shower stalls, empty for the moment. "Normally, I'd expect a situation like the one we're in to be the start of something special, but I guess I'm not that lucky today..." He joked, and Serena's expression turned somewhere between annoyed and flustered.

"A regular lady-killer, aren't you?"

"I can't help it." The man cracked a smile. "A beautiful, mysterious girl has her eye on me."

"Cute." Serena tried, but she couldn't suppress a grin - or a flustered look, and just prodded him with the muzzle again. "I'm flattered, but flattery won't get you off the hook. Why don't you start by telling me who the hell you are."

"Ask who he works for!" Lisa made her entrance, popping through the door, out of breath, though, that didn't quite stop her curiosity. "And how he tracked us down, too..."

"And there's the other one." The eavesdropper, ignoring her, cracked a little smile and a little laugh, as he turned over to look at her - and noticed the handgun she was holding. "A pair of lovely angels." He said, and Lisa looked confused - and flushed. "I'm having a hard time finding out who I like more - and whether I'm the luckiest guy in the world, or if I just drew a 7-2 off-suit in the great game of life."

"That'll depend if you play nice and answer us truthfully." Serena replied, a playful expression on her lips. "Careful, Lisa." She sarcastically added. "It turns out our mystery eavesdropper is a habitual flirt, too."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." He laughed again, and Lisa just took a deep breath, and stood in the doorway - keeping one eye on the prisoner and another making sure nobody outside was trying to get in. "Really, it's going to be hard ignoring such lovely red hair."

"Aww, thanks." The redhead replied, with a dry, half-sarcastic smile. "I'm touched, but I'm still getting over a bad breakup, and I don't wanna get into another relationship so soon."

"How tragic." The man said back, putting on a half shocked, half-teasing expression. "Must've been crazy to dump you-"

He suddenly stopped, turning more tense as Lisa's expression turned suddenly bitterly angry, and frazzled, and almost embarrassed, as she turned away from him, and said, "Serena, tell loverboy here to shut his stupid mouth before he gets hurt."

"Oh... Kay..." Serena took a deep breath - it sounded like their mystery flirt had hit a nerve. "Look, lay off the cheap flirting, and don't piss off my friend." She said, turning a bit exasperated.

"I'll be sad to relent, but those are acceptable terms." He sarcastically responded, rolling his eyes.

"Lets' start off with the basics, then." Serena said. "Who are you, and why the hell were you spying on us?"

"You can call me Phil Edinburgh." He introduced himself, with a slick smile. "Ace Private Eye." Phil added, and both girl's expressions went heavy-lidded.

"That's an..." An awkward smile crossed Serena's face. "Interesting name."

"It's the worst fake name I've ever heard." Lisa derisively cut in, crossing her arms, sidearm hanging from her hand. "You don't even look Scottish!"

"You don't have the accent, either, but I've heard worse." Serena added. 'Euler Smith' came to mind. That one was just too highbrow - especially for a gutter-scum cutthroat.

Phil just sighed. "Why, thank you." He replied, sarcasm thick enough to slice. "It's an old nickname. I'd give you my card, but... He laughed. "You know."

"Don't worry." Serena sarcastically responded. "We won't need it."

"Cold, for someone so beautiful." Phil said, letting out a small laugh, and Serena groaned at that. "As for your second question, the same reason you came here. I - that is to say, my client - wants to uncover the truth of the Schwarzwalder Assassination." Both girl's eyes went wide at that.

"What do you know?!" Serena quickly snapped, and Phil laughed again.

"Slightly less than you do, I'm afraid." He answered. "Why do you think I was spying on you? - I thought you knew something I didn't. Anyways, we're all on the same team here, so that's why I think we ought to change gears and make ourselves scarce."

Serena just looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"We've made a scene." He explained. "Now, I'm a forgiving sort of guy, so I'm not going to hold this little outburst against you." Both girls just groaned. "But you chased me all the way here, kicked in the door, tackled me to the ground, and now you're giving me a nice view of the wrong side of your gun. This is an apartment building, you know. A public space" He said, and the mood shifted, Serena and Lisa starting to look a bit agitated as the realization crept up. "Someone's bound to call the Mounties, you know."

There was a short pause, as the gears in Serena's head turned. She wasn't glued to newsfeeds, but even kids knew that Monty's Mounties, the security firm who the city contracted for it's law enforcement needs, were 'truncheon first, ask questions later' sort of people. She took a deep breath, and found the prospect of explaining to her bosses how she got arrested to be something quite painful. "You have a point." Serena reluctantly admitted, although she still didn't remove the firearm from the detective's face.

"Why don't we continue our chat somewhere nicer?" Phil cracked a teasing grin. "Over coffee?"

"How do we know you won't try to escape?" Lisa harshly added.

"Well, miss, Your friend already caught me once." He explained. "I'm sure she could do it again, and I'm quite fond of my skin, you know." He laughed again, and Serena rolled her eyes. "Your friend here seems that rare sort of tomboyish girl - lovely, but won't blink at blowing my head off."

"I'll hold you to that." Serena cracked a smile - a bit tense. She could hear people muttering in the hall behind her, and it was giving her goosebumps. She slowly drew her gun away, and Phil breathed a sigh of relief. "Lets' go."

"So..." Phil gave her another laugh. "It's a date, then?"

Serena's gun just paused in the air, and she cracked a smile, while her eyes shot him a glare. "It's not." She said. "But you are paying."

"Alright." Serena lounged back in the the coffee shop's booth, cyberdeck balanced on her legs, watching snowflakes fall from the dark, evening sky out in the street through the darkened window to her left, sipping coffee from a paper cup and trying not to flinch.

Whatever sort of synthetic coffee substitute they served here, Serena mused, tasted miserable. It could have been replaced with a cupful of hot mud and she'd have barely noticed It wasn't X-Caff, that was for certain. Normally, Serena took her coffee black, but now, she briefly contemplated if it was worth getting up to find some powdered creamer and sweetener to make it palatable... She shook her head, "Lets' just get down to brass tacks. You said you had a client earlier - who has you looking into this?"

"Someone with a very distinct interest in the way this all turned out." Phil responded, adjusting his trilby a bit, and taking in a drink from his own cup, and Serena found herself slightly impressed - he almost looked like he liked it... Or, he was just very good at controlling his emotions. "Just like you, They're quite interested in the 'who' of this little whodunit."

"How do you know we're looking for the culprit?" Serena leaned in, her tone turning a bit sharp, and Phil cracked a dry smile and a short snicker.

"I was eavesdropping on you, remember?!" He said, cracking wise, and Serena just groaned, and Lisa just gave him a weird look. "Even if I wasn't, it's not that hard to deduce - you don't look into a murder case for much else. Anyways, before you ask," He leaned in, over the table just a bit, smile widening, in a sinister grin. "We're kind of on the same page; I caught all the interesting bits. By the way, that Anabel girl..." A small snicker escaped his lips. "I thought she was in the car, but she seems to be tagging along with you, at least, digitally. Is she dead or alive?"

Serena's cell phone chirped in her pocket, and she took a deep breath, fished it out, leaned over the table and showed Phil the screen. "Not dead." Mr. Edinburgh cracked a smile as he read it aloud. "Knave." He let out another laugh. "Spirited girl. Management material if I've ever seen it. I like the non-response."

Serena sighed, as she put the cell down onto the surface of the table. "Lets' get back on track." She said. This was one of the worst places she'd ever had a meeting in. Phil Edinburgh had brought them to a chain coffeehouse called the Times Square Cafe. The chain wasn't normally the worst choice to find some liquid sleep substitute and a doughnut, but the Summervale Creek location was a special flavour of bad. It was run by bored-looking teenage delinquents for one, who treated the place as somewhere to hang out, and the customers, lounging in the tastelessly decorated dining room, seemed to all be the cutthroat type - gangsters and alley-cats and hackers dressed in long coats and sunglasses - who'd came her to discuss clandestine things first, and have bad coffee second. "Who DO you work for, exactly?" Serena asked, getting right to the point.

"Armstrong and Fitzgerald." Phil answered, leaning back in the booth, the snowfall that had begun earlier picking up in intensity outside, glimmering in the stark, white glow of the streetlamps. "The insurance corporation." He explained, linking his fingers on the tabletop. "You might've heard of them. They specialize in providing coverage for businesses. Specifically, they wrote a very expensive policy on one armoured Rolls-Royce Phantom-XIV, and two very expensive life insurance policies. One on Mr. Jonas Schwarzwalder, and one on Ms. Anabel Schwarzwalder..." He laughed a bit. "Who, rumours of her death seem to have been... Possibly exaggerated?"

Serena's phone chirped again. "She says she didn't find that funny." was how she chose to explain the ' >:/ ' emoticon Anabel had sent.

"So," Phil continued, ignoring her. "I'll save you the nitty-gritty, but the short version is A&F employs some very meticulous adjusters and actuaries who've come to the conclusion that it makes financial sense to examine Mr. Schwarzwalder's untimely death in more detail - hence, me."

"So, what?" Serena shot him a skeptical look. "Are you saying the insurance company's hired you to look into this because they don't want to pay out?"

"Yes and no..." Phil let loose another small laugh. "A&F's paid already - with it being such a high profile case, they didn't really have the option not to - it'd be bad press, you know."

"But they think something's off about the assassination." Lisa butted in, stylus on the desk, replaced with a coffee cup to her lips... And she paused, and put it down, and pushed the latte she'd ordered far away from her. She cleared her throat, and continued with, "So they're having you look into it, because the company thinks they might be able to get their money back."

"That's about the gist of it." Phil replied.

"Wait..." Serena's eyes went wide, an uncomfortable idea creeping into her mind like a slick, black spider. "Do you think it's... Like in a murder mystery, where someone takes out a policy on someone else, and murders them for the money!?"

"Surprisingly, no." A wry grin came into Phil's face. "That's one of the possibilities A&F ruled out." Serena and Lisa looked confused - and curious, and Phil paused to have another drink of the rancid sludge in his cup, and continued. "The policy was taken out by the WalderSoft corporation, with the company as the sole beneficiary. For someone in the company to orchestrate this, and siphon the cash to himself..." He paused, to think for a moment. "I suppose would be possible, but difficult - and likely to backfire."

"So, if it's not the usual murder mystery book cliche..." Serena paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts, the sound of the fan swinging overhead in her ears. "Then..." She raised an eyebrow. "I don't see why an insurance company would want to investigate this."

"A&F want proof the policy was placed in bad faith." Phil adjusted his hat. "What my boss is hoping to find, is a culprit who could cast a shadow over the whole case itself. Insurance fraud doesn't always need to be - directly - financially motivated, you know."

Serena just shot him a weird look, raising an eyebrow. That... Seemed wrong. It didn't make sense to her. She repeated what he'd said, over again in her head, and a rather quizzical - and suspicious - look came to her face, and, from behind her spectacles, over her slate, Lisa was beginning to give Phil an accusatory look. "That doesn't sound right." Serena finally said, and Phil just smiled. "I don't work in insurance, but..." Dispelling the tension a bit, she let out a small laugh. "No, that's wrong, Mr. Edinburgh. It's insurance. Trying to defraud an insurance company's is a financial motive in and of itself, right?"

"I mean, I suppose it could be like that..." Phil paused, a soft looking smile on his face, eyes drifting to the window. "Like I said - one person alone would have a hard time, but two? More? Easier to do. WalderSoft gets the windfall, and uses the proceeds to... Buy up that little studio whose talent they've been looking to add to their repertoire." He gave the girls a little wink for emphasis. "Just for sake of example."

"That..." Serena found herself raising an eyebrow. "Sounds unlikely."

Phil let out a wiry-sounding laugh. "You'd be surprised. But, like I said, it's only an example." He shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever the motive is, I'm as in the dark as you two are."

Serena paused for a few seconds to think, and shot him a wary look. "So, who do you think did it?" She said, pivoting a bit, and Phil just sighed and shrugged his shoulders again.

"Unfortunately, I don't have a good answer for you girls right now." He said. "I'd need a good lead to tug on before I could start going 'J'Accuse!' The company gave me a list of names, but, I'll be level with you. Phil just let loose another sardonic-sounding laugh. "I'm having a hard time figuring out how any of them could have been the one behind it."

A long pause hung in the air between them. The ceiling fan swung overhead. Coffee grinders droned from behind the counter. Murmurs of hushed conversations tickled Serena's ears, and the occasional passing of a car rang from outside, and she took a deep breath, debating whether to say it. Logic clashed with... Feelings. She didn't want to consider that outcome, because it was an ugly one, but... Serena sighed. "Hollace Schwarzwalder." She said, to Lisa's surprise, and an ' O_O ' from Anabel's text message. This was a murder, she reasoned. No stone ought to be left unturned. Every possibility ought to be considered. It might've been paranoid, but Dad always said vigilance never killed the cat.

"The older brother..." Phil let that hang in the air, a focused look coming in his eyes. "That was one of the names, but, like I said, I don't have anything to go on." A small, impish grin came onto the Phil's as he leaned in. "Plus, It's too obvious."

Serena groaned, and rolled her eyes. "But this isn't a cliche murder mystery."

"No, not in the sense of 'I read too many penny dreadfuls.'" Phil replied, and an embarrassed expression came on Serena's face. It felt like a personal attack. "In a logical, gambling way. Hollace is the first guy you'd suspect. Rich. Brother of the victim. Chairman of the family company but not the majority shareholder. Stands a lot to gain from his brother biting it. That's why I'm tempted to discount him for the time being."

Serena and Lisa looked turned very confused, before Phil smiled, adjusted his hat, and continued. "One, he couldn't get away with it. He's the most obvious suspect, so he'd get the most scrutiny. Inconsistencies would pop up, and in a murder case, tiny details are like strands in a sweater - pull on one, and the whole thing unravels. Two, He has as much to lose as he does to gain. He'd get ownership of the company, but his brother's the talent. They make video games. It's an art thing. So, without him, Hollace doesn't have a moneymaker. Essentially..." Phil flashed a wily smile. "I'd say, 'not likely.'"

"So, that leaves us back to square one..." Serena sighed, a bitter look coming onto her face as she leaned in, on her shoulder. "Unfortunately, we haven't made that much progress, either..."

"You're too charming to be so hard on yourself, Serena." He responded, and Serena sighed and looked away - though, she couldn't suppress a slight smile. "You got a crucial detail from our mutual friend, Yuri." He flashed a grin, extended an index finger, and Serena looked back, very alert. "Professionals, he called them. You've found another link - Professional killers for hire, and you've narrowed down our search to people with the cash - and resources - to contract them." He cleared his throat, and fixed up his hat again. "I think this might be the break we need. If you're not opposed to pooling our efforts, I think we ought to split our attention. You keep looking into suspects, and I'd..." He stroked his chin. "I'd quite like to look into our hired killer thread." He flashed a grin. "There just might be a fixed wheel on that particular roulette table."

"What do you think, Lisa?" Serena asked, turning over to her otherwise quiet friend. In truth, she didn't... Quite know what to make of this. In truth... She took a deep breath. She found she wanted time to think things over - and get Phil Edinburgh out of her hair. Easy on the eyes as he admittedly was, he was beginning to really test her patience.

"I dunno." Lisa groaned, and flicked her hair a bit. "I don't have any information on hired killers, so, it might be worth it?..." She didn't sound too convinced - as a matter of fact, Serena idly mused, they might've had the same idea - it might just keep Phil Edinburgh busy.

"Well then, that's just about everything, I suppose." He laughed a bit, and, slowly stood up, in a way that reminded Serena of the fable of the camel sticking it's nose in the tent. Carefully, seeing if he could get away with it, and, since Serena didn't draw her weapon, he stood up fully. "I think this was a fairly productive little get-together." He said, and the meeting seemed to be adjourned.

"Is that really all you know?" Serena asked, as she found herself slowly getting up as well, the two girls clearing out as well, retrieving their gadgets, adjusting scarves and hats and not bothering to clear out the cups of liquid foulness.

"Afraid so, for now." Phil said, as he began to make for the door. "We'll definitely cross paths again when I've got more to tell you - it's a small city, and it's not too often you meet people working on the same case as you..." He cracked another wily grin. "Especially ones so charming." Serena groaned, and Lisa shot him a glare as the two of them made for the door as well, and Phil positioned himself infront of them, opening the exit, letting the winter's chill in, and giving Serena a gentlemanly smile, as he said "Ladies first." and Serena just groaned, and crossed her arms.

"You know..." Serena found a wry smile and a heavy-lidded look coming over her. "I don't like it when guys do that."

"Do you?" A teasing smile crossed Phil's face. "Never heard a girl say that before. You're very interesting, miss. " There was a few awkward seconds in the doorway, snow coming down outside, onto the streets, dancing in the glow of the city, piling ontop of the Jaguar, before Serena realized she was beginning to attract stares, and just rolled her eyes and threw her pride to the wind and went through, boots crunching the fresh, crisp snow, and she took a deep breath of the refreshing winter night's air.

"I know you said you didn't want it earlier." The door closed behind Lisa, as she emerged into the city, and Serena turned to see Phil holding out a holocard - a white rectangle of luminescent plastic in his gloved hand. "But we really ought'a keep in touch. On a professional basis - We're working the same case, after all."

"Oh, fine." Serena rolled her eyes and plucked the card from his hand, like the feather of a goose. "Strictly professional. Got it?"

"With great reluctance." He shot her a smile, and Serena groaned - but couldn't suppress a small grin of her own, and Phil rubbed his chin, and added, "But on the subject, I don't think I've ever got your name."

"Why do you want to know?" Serena snapped back.

"For professional reasons." Phil responded. "And so I can put a name to that pretty face."

The dark-haired vampire rolled her eyes and groaned again. "You can call me Serena. I've already given it out to my mortal enemy..." She added, joking, but still very bitter.

"You've a mortal enemy?!" Phil made a big show of pretending to be shocked. "If you treat your acquaintances like this, I'd hate to see what you do to him." He teased, before turning over towards Lisa, who was watching the whole exchange with scorn. "And you, miss?"

"Lisa." She sarcastically introduced herself, no shortage of venom on her tongue. "Don't bother to remember it." She adjusted her glasses, a surge of meanness coming into her eyes. "You're not my type, anyways."

"Oh, to be pricked by the thorns of a lovely rose." Phil sarcastically put a hand over his heart, and mimed flinching back. "Now, I do wish I could stay and get to know you girls better, but, I think we both have a lot of work to do." He adjusted his hat, and turned away, giving Lisa and Serena one last look over his shoulder as he smiled, and waved farewell. Serena reciprocated the gesture. Lisa just went still, and gave Serena the impression she was restraining herself from flipping him the bird.

"Good luck!" He said, fading into the snowfall and the darkness of the rough streets behind them, and Serena watched him disappear into the gloom and the danse de niege. She took another deep breath of crisp, winter air, cooling her down, while a feeling of odd, deep unease crawled up from within her. There was something... Off about Phil Edinburgh, she mused.

"So what do you make of all this?" Serena asked, the Jaguar's engine rumbling like it's namesake, and the blacks and purples and bright neon and white snow of the city passing by her like a blur, wiper blades going back and forth clearing the view ahead - though, Serena's mind still felt foggy and uncertain.

"I don't know." Lisa said, reclining in the passenger seat, writing furiously in her dataslate, wearing a look somewhere between irritated and... Concerned. "If you're talking about Phil - I don't like him." She said.

A slightly wry expression crossed Serena's face. "I could see that." She said. "He touched a nerve."

Lisa just pouted, and crossed her arms. "Not like that!" She responded with a harsh tone "He's a total cad, but that's not what I meant. He seems... Well, he's a shifty guy." She said.

"I mean, I thought he was pretty off, too." Serena said, and Lisa took a deep breath, and adjusted her glasses.

"Off isn't the way I'd say it." Lisa said, a small grin coming onto her face. "He looks like he looks like what he was on the surface."

Serena was suddenly struck with a perplexed gaze, the meaning slowly coming to her. "You think he's suspicious because he looks like what he is?"

"No, he LOOKS like he looks like what he is." Lisa tried to explain. From the confused look on Serena's face, it wasn't getting, and she just groaned, and had to clarify. "If someone just looks like what they are, then that's fine - they're everything on the surface. Phil only LOOKS like that..."

Serena's red eyes sharpened as she made the connection, riding boot pressing down on the brake, a red light ahead in the snow. "So you're saying there's something else underneath. And that he's good at hiding it."

"Bin-go!" Lisa flicked a lock of dyed, red hair and cracked a smile. "It's throwing me off. I don't like to brag, but..." Her smile didn't fade, but her eyes turned uneasy. "I like to think I can read people - but I've gotten nothing from him." She sounded half ashamed and half nervous. "His attitude felt... Rehearsed, if that makes any sense."

"Like he's practised putting on this sort of attitude for us..." Serena replied. The light ahead flashed green in the gloom and snowfall. Serena put boo to gas, and the Jaguar sped off on its way back to the domes. An impish grin crossed her face, "So he doesn't actually think we're cute, then." She joked.

Lisa turned to the window, embarrassed, and ticked off. "What. Ever." She groaned, and Serena just broke into laughter, and now it was the redhead's turn to roll her eyes dismissively.

"Are you pissed because he brought how up your ex dumped you?" A wry smile came onto Serena's and Lisa visibly began to sour. "What's his face, Gordon-?"

"Shut up, and he didn't 'dump' me, it was a mutual breakup." Lisa turned towards Serena, wearing a vexatious grin, and Serena put on an innocent smile and pretended she believed her. "Can we just focus on one asshole guy for now? What about Phil? What do you make of him?"

"I'm not sure." Serena's expression turned more serious as the stout graffiti-covered concrete of Summervale Creek gave way to ornate brick, masonry, and steel of a nicer - and more expensive - part of town, the snow coming down more heavily around them. "I mean, I wouldn't trust him to burn if I set him on fire." She said, rather dryly. "He was eavesdropping on us, and that story of his sounded off. I'm not an insurance expert, but it seemed... Wrong! Of course insurers would suspect a financial motive! Nothing else would make sense! Am I being paranoid, or what?" She sighed, eyes back towards the road. "I just don't think it adds up."

"I'm with you on that." Lisa said, eyes deep in her dataslate, writing steadily. "I'd take everything he says with a grain of salt. What about you, Anabel?" She asked, looking up, and the ghost in the backseat, who looked contemplative and had said very little, suddenly turned bitter and harsh.

"I hate him." She crossed her arms, pouting. "I'm not dead, Serena."

She had the heater on full blast and wore three layers, but a chill still went up Serena's spine. Lisa, meanwhile, wore a nervous, but curious expression. An uncomfortable stillness hung in the car, punctuated by the purring of the engine and sliding of the wipers. "Are you feeling alright, Anabel?" Serena asked.

"I'm fine. I'm just trying to think." Anabel's eyes drifting down. A long breath escaped Serena's mouth. An uneasy question had been rolling in her head for a while, but she wasn't sure she should ask - especially now. Serena was feeling odd, though. She wanted to know. It wasn't obsessive nosiness, like Lisa. It was... Different. She could feel something hurt in Anabel, and found Anabel being hurt caused her discomfort. In her heart, Serena knew it was a bad idea to probe, but...

"Anabel, you and..." She paused, a black pickup passing them by in the opposite lane as she tried to find the words - and largely failed. "The... Human Anabel." Serena said. "Are you-"

Shut up!" Anabel snapped from the backseat, and Serena nearly panicked, before- "Shut up..." She sounded weaker. More pained. More desperate, and Serena's expression went from nervous, to deeply worried. "Don't... I don't wanna talk about it."

"It's alright..." Serena tried to put on a reassuring smile, "I'm sorry for bringing it up." An awkward, guilty look came over her as she saw, in the back, how despondent and distant Anabel looked and sighed, giving up. She'd lost her nerve, and now she felt bad for probing her.

Serena took a deep breath, and focused on the road ahead. What could she say, here? She just settled on giving Anabel her space and letting her work through it. The wiper blades brushed off another dusting of snow, and Serena groaned. Yuri, the mystery gang of assailants, and now Phil, too. This whole mission had become a lot more complicated, very quickly."Just let me think about things." Anabel blankly said, from the back seat. "Yuri... He's made me think about it. Don't bother me, Serena."

"Lets' just get back to the hotel..." Serena said, and loud yawn emerged from her mouth, to Lisa's amusement. "I think we all need a good night's sleep." A smile crept onto her face. That was the ticket. Maybe, this would all make more sense after they'd had a night to mull over it.

Back in Summervale Creek, close to the Times Square Cafe Serena and Lisa had departed not too long ago, Phil Edinburgh, Ace Private Eye, found himself at the mouth of a familiar alleyway, brown, woolly trenchcoat done up to keep out the cold, taking a quick, reflexive look around to make sure he wasn't being tailed, before ducking in, slipping into one of the city's many cracks. The walls were coated in graffiti, and the white snow beneath, rapidly piling up, masking the trash and detritus on the ground, and reflecting the dim, amber glow from lamps hanging over back doorways, making this place just a bit brighter in the wintertime.

This place was urban sanctuary for those outside society - and the law. Phil found a wry smile coming onto his face as he looked up at the shadows of buildings, cables crossing the air, and the imposing, monstrous skyscrapers beyond. This place also kept society safe from those who lived outside the law, Phil mused. He wasn't here for trouble - or to hide from trouble, but he did have business. From beneath the brim of his hat, Phil spied, in the gloom and snow, a small staircase in the concrete, going down, boxed in by brickwork to keep drunks from falling in, lit up by a neon purple sign that dangled from a wrought iron pole, like a lighthouse guiding sailors to harbour: 'Anderson's Net House.'

One last look around to make sure he was alone, and Phil descended the snow covered steps. Gloved hand on the metal railing, loafers crunching against the snow, going out of sight, and through an unadorned, austere metal door at the bottom, out of the gloom, and into the red.

Anderson's was an odd place. As far as net cafes went, it was multifaceted. The lobby felt like a live house's, the walls covered in graffiti, and the whole place bathed in an eerie, dim red light. There had been some token lounge furniture - a couch, two armchairs, and a coffee table. The local toughs had had their way with it, but Mr. Anderson hadn't bothered to replace them - after all, if you kept an eye out for sharp springs, you could sit down with no issue. The clerk at the front desk was a grim-looking rockabilly type with greased up hair and a stud-covered leather coat, eyes buried in his cell phone, legs up on the desk. He didn't care - and that suited Phil just fine.

He walked to the front desk, as the clerk began to pretend to take notice of him. This place catered to those who didn't have the money for a top of the line server and terminal, but still wanted to play the latest, hottest games. The teenage - and teenage at heart were Anderson's primary client base, but Phil wasn't here for levity. "One hour." He planted a crisp, twenty pound holonote on the counter, the luminescent plastic banknote glowing in the red gleam. "Private room." It was more than teenagers would spend to be here the whole night, but that was just the works. In the modern world, privacy - in the physical and digital sense - commanded a premium.

The clerk didn't even blink. He took the banknote, took a second to eye it up, examining it for legitimacy, and planted it swiftly in the register before handing Phil a keycard lashed to a large, red plastic stick. "Room six" He said, in a flat, disconnected tone.

"Have a good evening." Phil cracked a grin and took his keycard and spun it around on the stick as he made his way into the cafe, through the large common room, past the rows upon rows of desks, each with a rough looking gamer plugged in, wearing a pair of trodes and a vacant little expression. Phil smiled. Looked like a good time. Otherwise, he paid them little mind as he went to the stairwell, all the way in the back, descending further into the city, to the private rooms below.

A long, gloomy corridor stretched out infront of him, with faux hardwood floors underneath and dim red lamps overhead. Like the halls of an office complex, viewed through some strange digitized nightmare haze. He found Room six quickly enough, took another reflexive look over his shoulder, and swiped his card and went on in, the white, plain office door swinging with an audible creak to reveal a setup similar to what you got upstairs - but warded off, physically and wirelessly, from prying eyes.

A gray desk that commanded the small room, a cheap-looking office chair, a large tower terminal on the desk, with a screen and keyboard for easy work, and a pair of trodes, waiting to be used, for more complicated things - and games. A little card pinned to the wall displayed some useful information for a would-be net explorer: directories, basic commands, procedures for connecting, how to use the trodes themselves, the works. Phil needed none of this - he wasn't quite a console cowboy, but he did know his way around a terminal - and had something more specific in mind.

He locked the door behind him, double checked it, hung his hat and coat on the peg, and sat down, powering the machine on and waiting for the operating system to boot, the cyan of the loading screen cutting into the red gloom. Phil opened a secure chat client, and typed in a set of credentials he'd memorized by heart - and never, ever wrote down. He was a professional, after all. A few moments for the login to validate, and the program flashed a GUI window on the screen. "Welcome back, A. Nonymous." A cheeky grin came on Phil's lips. "You have 31 new messages."

He checked - most were irrelevant. Half spam, and of the rest, three were work-related. Two could wait. The one he'd been expecting was from a user numbered '652.' He took a deep breath, and silently read: "Requesting progress report on person of interest status." Simple, to the point, and any unwanted observers wouldn't be able to figure out anything specific.

Phil tugged at his collar and leaned back in the cheap, slightly uncomfortable chair, thinking up a response, wondering how to phrase it both positively, and... Vaguely. A job like the one he'd taken required being clandestine to a fault. "Progress report." He typed, pausing for a moment before adding: "Person of Interest progressing. Determined. Dangerous. Physically capable." An embarrassed, but pleasant smile crossed his face as he turned over the memory of that pleasant, but unpleasant experience. "Unaware of overall purpose. Tenuous cooperation secured..." He sighed. There wasn't a way to couch this: "Status unlikely to last." Things would, if he'd left it alone, deteriorate in a way his client would not find favourable.

The person of interest was, after all, surprisingly astute. He'd been successful today, but Phil was unsure how long he could keep it going: "Outlook: Success likely under current circumstances." A pit settled in his stomach. It was the unfortunate truth, and, the client wouldn't like it, but professionalism demanded it be said. He wasn't being paid to be a yes-man.

Click. Send. A small chime. A 'message successfully delivered.' screen, and Phil leaned back in the chair, to play the waiting game for a reply - though, to his pleasant surprise, 652 got back to him quicker than expected: "Dissatisfactory." The reply scrolled on screen, and Phil felt a touch of annoyance. God, it was like grad school, all over again. It was the best that could be done, he knew, but it still felt galling to see the workplace equivalent of a 'C' pop into his inbox. "Person of interest success: Intolerable. Prevention of success: Priority one."

Phil paused to think, running a finger through sandy brown hair. "Misdirection?" He sent, the clacking of keys drowning out the hum of the terminal as he typed.

"Negative." The reply came back. "Temporary at best."

Another pause. The buzzing of computer fans rang in his ear, As Phil leaned into the monitor, eyes lidded, stroking his chin. "Options?" He typed, and suddenly became concerned as he read the reply.

"Exhausted." 652's message scrolled on screen, and Phil couldn't help but feel a insulted at that. It felt like his boss had given up too quickly... A small laugh escaped his lips. Not a good survival trait, he mused. "Situation deteriorating. Cutting losses before things get worse."

"Course of action?" Phil typed, and waited for a moment, and his eyes went wide when the reply came.

"Liquidation." The text bored into him, the word burning into his mind. Even with their nonspecific lingo, it was obvious what that meant, and a disappointed sigh escaped Phil's lips, his face turning disheartened and sardonic. It felt... Crude, to resort to bumping her off so early in their game.

"Orders?" He typed, with a bit of unease - he was really hoping he wouldn't be the one to have to pull the trigger.

"Stand By." Came the reply, and a wave of relief crashed over him, leaning back, a wide smile crossing his lips. "Secondary Fixer Team to engage. A wary laugh began to fill the small room. He felt a bit disappointed, but mused that he shouldn't have been surprised. "Contract termination on liquidation success. New orders if liquidation failure." That was that. Phil settled in the chair and adjusted his necktie again. Part of him felt bad - it was business, after all, but he thought they'd managed to get on well (for a given definition) and he couldn't suppress a twinge of sympathy. Then again... Phil cleared his throat, and leaned in, over the keyboard. There was one more thing to take care of.

"Payment." He typed. He'd normally be content to just sit back and wait for the bullets to be done flying, but something nagged at him. It was about the person of interest. The client had filled him in - she was a professional - like him. Evidently, a woman of action - like him. Normally, Phil would dismiss her, but he'd seen her in action, and he decided he quite liked what he saw. Phil started working her odds in his head, staring up at the ceiling, a small laugh escaping his lips. Not the greatest, but better than expected, and that meant his client's odds weren't exactly a fish-in-a-barrel shoot... "Due immediately." He felt suddenly a lot less eager to 'let it ride.'

"Review contract terms." Came the reply - very quickly, Phil mused, now that money had come up. "One third at contract signatory. Two thirds at contract resolution."

"Changing the terms." Phil typed, as a smile crept onto his lips. "All payment up front. Retroactive application. Payment due immediately"

"Unacceptable."

"Payment on termination unacceptable." He typed, and paused for a second, trying to think of what to add, how he could argue his way into cash up front... "Contractual resolution ambiguous. Payment ambiguous."

"What."

Phil flashed a full, toothy grin, pearly whites gleaming in the splash of the monitor. "Client admission: Person of Interest liquidation not guaranteed." He sent. "Resolution of contract not guaranteed. Payment in advance required."

"And what if I don't?" Came the reply. Phil's eyes went wide in shock, but his smile widened in amusement. How... Direct.

"Then you can find a new spy." Phil bluntly sent back, smiling wildly, trying to picture the look on his client's face. "You won't find anyone as open minded as me - so I dictate the terms."

"Who says I'll need you?"

"You did." Phil laughed mockingly as he typed. "We both know it. Our girl isn't the weedy code monkey you'd been expecting. There's a nonzero chance your people can't rub her out. You said as much yourself. Cash up front, or I walk."

There was a long pause, tension hanging in the air, fans buzzing in Phil's ear. His smile gradually faded in the glow of the monitor as he turned more steady, awaiting a response, wondering if he'd get away with this, and nearly jumping from his seat when the message chime rang: "Fine." 652 sent. Even over the internet, Phil could feel the venom. "I'll send you the rest of the agreed-upon amount, and there will be no more trouble." Phil cracked a grin. He'd left out the 'or else,' but definitely meant it. I'd better not have any more trouble from you."

"Good." He cracked a smile, and restrained the urge to gloat. "We'll talk again after your men get to work. Out." Phil sent, and hit the logout button, closing the secure message application and erasing the evidence they'd said anything at all. He didn't wait for a response. He wouldn't get one. They'd said all they needed to, and Phil knew he could expect a substantial sum deposited in a numbered cryptocurrency wallet later that night.

A quick sequence of keystrokes, and a click, and the computer began to shut down, the operating system closing, the monitor going dark, the fans going silent, and Phil leaned back in his chair, shrouded in red gloom. A massive came onto his face as he began to idly spin around, thoughts drifting back to the person of interest - who was about to have a night she'd never forget, or... A grim smile crawled on his lips. Her last.

Phil had to admit, he felt bad. After all... He let out a wry, yet distant laugh as he spun in the chair again. He'd found her quite beautiful, and charming - despite waving a gun in his face. Despite their short time together, Phil couldn't deny she definitely had a grim, moody, darkly appealing je sais nas quoi. He'd definitely miss her by tomorrow morning. Of course... He let loose another wily burst of laughter. His mental math said there were pretty good odds he wouldn't.

"Oh, Serena..." He mused aloud, picturing her in his mind's eye. Her short, sporty hair. Her cutting, red eyes. Her moody, at times pouty, always darkly entrancing expression, a deep smile coming onto his lips. "I wonder how you plan on getting out of this."

It took a few seconds of staring into the darkness for Serena to realize she was awake. Her eyes slowly opened, and a groggy look came on her face as she stretched out her body under the covers, turning over towards the dim, red LCD display of the alarm clock on her nightstand, and her expression turned more irritated. It was very, very early in the morning, and she'd barely gotten a wink of sleep. Serena groaned aloud, and turned back up at the unfamiliar, darkened ceiling of the hotel room, closing her eyes, trying to will herself back into torpor-

"Can't sleep either?" She'd heard Lisa's voice from the other bed, to her right, and Serena's eyes snapped open and she quickly turned over to see, cradled in covers, barely visible in the dim splash of blue light of a dataslate screen, Lisa was sitting up against the pillows, swaddled in blankets, deep in focus, writing, and reviewing, and scrolling, and occasionally adjusting her glasses or playing with her hair, and Serena cracked a wry smile.

"You're definitely not going to fall asleep like that." She joked. Lisa just fiddled with her glasses, and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, well," She paused to write. "We still need to figure out who to look into tomorrow morning - and I might as well do it now. Don't worry." A sardonic smile came onto her face, as she turned over to Serena. "I haven't been doing this all night - I woke up like thirty minutes ago and couldn't get back to sleep. Sorry if I woke you up, by the way."

"You didn't, so don't worry..." Serena took a deep breath, and turned back towards the ceiling, closing her eyes, and trying to relax. "I just hope I'm not gonna be tired tomorrow. This doesn't usually happen to me."

"Maybe it's because someone's thinking hard about you." Came Lisa's voice from the darkness. She sounded a bit dry, and teasing, and Serena let out a weary, almost indignant groan.

"I really hope you don't mean that cad, Edinburgh."

"You were too nice to him." Lisa teased, not even looking away from her slate. "It's gonna give him the wrong idea."

"I had a gun to his head!" Serena erupted from the covers, revealing the white tank top and black underpants she'd worn to bed, turning towards her friend with a nonplussed, antsy expression, and Lisa snickered.

"Some guys are into that sort of thing." She replied. "And besides that, you and him seemed to be getting along... Do you have a type?"

"Oh, shut up!" Serena laughed, and, already sitting up, took a deep breath, and crossed her arms. "Besides, he was hitting on you, too."

"The difference being I didn't flirt back."

"THAT was not flirting." Lisa said nothing, but she just looked back to her slate, a very wide grin coming onto her face, and Serena sighed, and slowly began to lie back down on her side, pulling the blankets in - but not quite over her, and pausing to think for a moment... "You know." She said, changing gears, a naughty grin coming over her, a sudden urge to stab back. "My mom always said you'll ruin your eyes staring into a screen in bed." That wiped the smile off her face, and Lisa turned to her, and pouted.

"Well, Serena." She curtly replied. "That ship has sailed - so, unless YOU want to figure out our next move, then I think I'll continue." A small grin began to re-emerge, as she twirled the stylus in her hand. "I think I've actually got our next informant to question, actually."

"What, really?" Serena raised an eyebrow, slowly sitting up, the thought of teasing gone from her mind. "Who did you have in mind?"

"It's late, so I'll tell you the details tomorrow, but..." A sly smile came onto Lisa's face. "It might be a bit of a longshot, but, of the list of people I've put together, I think she'll best be able to shed a bit of light on the situation and get us closer to identifying a suspect..."

"Well... That's..." Serena paused, as a massive yawn found it's way out of her mouth. "Good..." She said, sitting there cross-legged on the bed, taking in the atmosphere for a moment - her red eyes able to see remarkably well in the near pitch-darkness. It was a two Queen-sized bed suite (and Serena found all the room, compared to her twin at home to be pleasant, but took some getting used to) Two nightstands - each with their own boxy alarm clock, showing the early morning in dim, red LEDs, and paired with a set of vid-phones. Unused - they didn't exactly have the time to order room service. Two dressers opposite the bed, with vidscreens for watching trid and television programmes - which, given they'd been out the whole day, didn't see much use. A grand clock sat between the screens; silent, quartz-power, two hands making their soundless ballet around the clock face in the darkness. Near the door was a large, sliding closet, and a passage to the bathroom - she hadn't the time to shower. She'd planned to tomorrow morning.

Past Lisa's bed was a small lounge area. Small couch and coffee table, and two wooden desks - in case someone needed to do a bit of work while staying. There was a vanity set, which would be more useful if Lisa had brought make up, or if she habitually wore any... Despite working for a cosmetics company. Serena couldn't suppress a small grin at the irony... Maybe, it was just that she was tired, but strangely... She sighed, and, to Lisa's slight, perplexed amusement, drew the covers off and stepped out, onto the carpet.

"What are you up to?" Lisa asked, as Serena stretched out a bit, tank top riding up and exposing her toned stomach. Long, elegant, athletic legs taking her over to the closet, Lisa's hazel-green eyes tracking her across the room, intrigued.

"I think I'm just gonna have a quick smoke on the balcony, then go back to sleep." She replied, fishing her jacket from the sliding closet and putting it on, hanging open, still showing her tank top and panties, long legs poking out from the black leather. The curtains brushed aside, revealing the night's sky outside. The weather engineers had decided to turn on a small dusting of snow from on high, and snowflakes shimmered in the night like flakes of silver. Serena pulled the sliding glass door to one side, and stepped through - then stepped back with a surprised look on her face - she'd stepped in the snow, and it was freezing cold!

Luckily, there were some complimentary lounge slippers in the closet that solved that issue, and, back on the balcony, staring down into the snow covered cloister below, Serena flicked the lighter into action. A click of the flint, hiss of the nozzle, and a warm, pulsing orange flame dancing in the night and caressing the edge of her black-papered 'nightstick.' A refreshing wave of nicotine rushed into her, and she blew out a thin, gray cloud into the night, as she leaned over the balcony, the winter's chill biting at her exposed legs like a rough lover, but despite the cold, Serena felt... Relaxed.

Their hotel room was on the second floor, which gave Serena good view of the central garden. There was a grove of trees, rows of bushes, a rolling hill, (only one; there were still space concerns) and a frozen-over pond, all covered in a pure, fresh dusting of snow like powdered sugar on a pound cake, and hemmed in by the richly detailed, palatial walls of the B&B. Even this late at night, some of the windows were still lit up, but... Serena took a deep breath. The world had fallen completely silent... Well, almost. In the distance, she could hear what sounded like a car's tires screeching, but otherwise, you could hear a pin drop. Serena 's eyes lidded, finding a small smile growing on her face. It felt uncanny for things to be so... Still. There was a strange serenity to her (and Lisa) being the only person awake. It felt like the world had ended - and she had it all to herself.

It was something Serena realized, she'd never experienced. Out in the city, even in the dead of night, there was always activity. Even after the clubs closed. Even after the last train ran, something was always happening. Some car going by. Somebody yelling. Something going through the shadows. Here... She loosed out another loud of smoke into the crisp air, snowflakes dancing around her. It was like a snowglobe, she realized. When she was a young girl, her father, back from a deployment overseas, had brought her one as a souvenir. At the time, she didn't really understand it enough to appreciate it. It was still somewhere at the old place. A still, immaculately crafted winter scene, undisturbed, in a bubble, away from the troubles of the real world. It was... Peaceful. Serena took a deep breath.

So peaceful, as a matter of fact, she didn't even notice she'd lost track of time - or almost fell asleep, for that matter. The next thing Serena knew, her eyes were closed and she was leaning over the railing, and feeling a violent shake to her shoulder.

Serena quickly snapped back into it, turning around, an embarrassed expression on her face - she'd been expecting Lisa to tease her for having almost fallen asleep (and fallen two stories), but, embarrassment swiftly turned to nervousness as she saw, rather than the dry smile she'd been expecting, her friend, in her red and white striped pyjamas, wearing a very worried look - and was holding her cell phone, which, Serena had left on the desk to charge. The screen was on, displaying the text messaging application, and, Lisa wordlessly showed her a message from Anabel. One word: "Trouble."

She snapped quickly to action, dashing the cigarette out on the metal rail in a way the maids would doubtlessly disapprove of, and dashed back in, snatching up the phone from her friend's hand and rushed past the beds, to the desk, with a dire expression as she flipped up the monitor of her cyberdeck to find Anabel staring back at her, a serious look in her eyes.

"I'm in the hotel's network." Anabel explained, and Serena's blood turned to ice when she said, "and someone just cut the security cameras."

Serena and Lisa - who'd appeared over her shoulder - both looked shocked. "Are you sure this isn't a just malfunction?" Lisa asked, her tone on edge, and Serena shot her a slightly disappointed look.

"Lisa, you were in cybersec." Serena dryly cut in, and Lisa just adjusted her glasses, a bit embarrassed. "This is basic security stuff. One camera goes out?" Serena explained, index finger extended for emphasis. "That's an accident. Two? More likely than not," She added her middle finger. "But all of them,at the same time?!" She opened her whole palm, turning back towards Anabel. "It is all of them, right?"

"Every single one." Anabel nodded, and the two of them looked worried. "There's also a backup subroutine that's supposed to turn it back on. There's a third to alert a technician if the cameras are broken. Both of them are down." A serious, alert, anxious look came into Serena's eyes.

"Another hacker." She said aloud, trigger finger starting to twitch. "And I can't imagine they've here for anything wholesome."

"They're making sure they aren't leaving any evidence." Lisa piped up, suddenly turning more focused - and worried. "But, what do you think they're trying to cover up?"

"I don't know." Anabel said, sounding more cold, and distant, "But, look at what he's doing." She said, and goosebumps began to form on the back of Serena's neck as the view on her cyberdeck's monitor changed - the feed showing a display of cyberspace, rather than Anabel's face. A scene from inside the hotel's information systems, set against an ephemeral, dreamlike realm that, roughly, resembled the inside of a castle's dungeon, all arched columns and stone brick walls.

A large processing nexus dominated the scene, in the form of a towering, twisted tree of petrified wood, covered in dashes, dials, lights, valves, display screens, and pipes full of liquefied sunlight - data being transferred, to and from, flowing down, along the branches and through the trunk and into the floor. At least, until they were cut, data spilling out onto the flagstones, as shadowy figure in a long coat briefly watched his handiwork, spilling a laugh and moving to prune the next branch.

"I've been watching him." Anabel explained, as the hacker flew from branch to branch, his long, shadowy coat flowing behind him as he flew through cyberspace, and pitch-black sunglasses hiding what little of his identity could be divined from a cartoony face. The really eye-catching detail Serena noticed, though, was a blue dyed streak in his otherwise black, messy hair. "He's been cutting the cameras." She said, and Serena noticed a program in his hands - what looked like a pair of large garden shears that glowed red with the heat of the forge, cutting through the branches and pipes like... Red-hot garden shears through a branch.

"Is that all he's done?" Serena asked, and the video feed snapped back to Anabel's face once again, as she shook her head.

"That's it." She said. "He hasn't stolen any data or uploaded any malware, and he even noticed me - but I'm good at hiding, if I don't want to be seen." She flashed a small, proud smile. "He is talking with someone else over a radio, though."

"What's he saying?" Serena raised an eyebrow, but looked a bit disappointed when Anabel shook her head.

"No idea." She confessed. "It's all encrypted."

Lisa nervously adjusted her glasses. "Can you break it?"

"Yeah" Anabel nodded her head. "But it might take a bit to crack." She admitted, with a bit of reluctance. "Serena, are you going to do anything?"

"I'm..." Serena closed her eyes, suddenly finding a nervous feeling settling in her stomach. This was a lot to take in, all at once, and Anabel's expression. She opened her eyes and looked back to the screen, to make sure she didn't imagine it - and hadn't. Anabel looked genuinely worried. "I'm not sure. If I were alone, I might jack in and try to find out more, but..." She sighed. "I think you can do a better job - and besides... I think he's up to something. It's giving me a bad feeling - so, I want you to try to stop him."

"I can definitely try, but..." An embarrassed expression came onto her face. "There's a bit of lag with your cyberdeck." Serena suddenly looked a bit disappointed - and irritated she'd put this thing together, after all. "I might not be able to kick him out, but I can definitely slow him down and undo some of the damage."

"Turn the cameras back on!" Lisa suddenly exclaimed, with both Serena and Anabel looking briefly surprised as a very intense look crossed her face, and she leaned in, more intense. "You said the hacker was talking with someone, right?"

Serena went pale - moreso - as the realization crept up on her. "The hacker's got friends in meatspace." She said, wires connecting in her head.

"And if he cut the cameras," Lisa finished her sentence. "Then, whatever his friends are doing here, they don't want the evidence sticking around..."

Anabel turned more focused, hard at work in cyberspace, then surprised. "Oh..." She said, and Lisa looked intense and interested, and Serena turned worried. "You were right, Lisa - Look!" She said, and the feed changed.

She was showing them the infrared camera feed from the B&B's back door, for servants and supplies. A nondescript white van was by the door, unassuming until doors burst open and three figures in black coats and body armour emerged into the snow. One looked lean and phlegmatic, wearing a pair of thin, round glasses. Another was a foxy looking girl with long blonde hair. The third - the leader in sunglasses, giving orders, was a head and a half taller than his fellows and built like a brick outhouse. Glasses and Blondie were toting submachine guns with prominent, top-loading cylindrical magazines. The leader bore a massive, heavy machine gun that made Serena swear hard enough to make a sailor blush. The video feed cut out. Back to a shot of Anabel's face, the ghost girl looking quite worried, and Serena and Lisa turned back towards eachother, no less anxious.

"What the hell do we do?" Lisa asked, nervously fiddling with her hair, and Serena locked, turning over the same question in her head. A dozen possibilities ran through her head, and Serena quickly settled on a course of action, diving to the closet, and pulling out - and putting on - a pair of dark blue jeans, before retrieving her brown leather gunbelt, and Lisa went from nervous to shocked, dread in her eyes, and Serena sighed. She understood. Under the circumstances, a handgun felt inadequate...

"Get your gun and your boots on." Serena ordered anyways, her tone sharp and resolute, sitting on the carpet, one black sock already on her foot and working on getting the other.

"Don't tell me you're actually going to fight them!?" Lisa flinched back in disbelief - and fear. "Serena, this is insane!"

"We might not have a choice." A stern look came over her face as she laced up her riding boots. "Three guys with guns run into a hotel. We're either targets, hostages, or a statistic." She sounded quite grim, and Lisa locked up for a moment, before she just groaned, and went with the flow, running to the closet, and, sitting beside Serena, began putting on a pair of long, white stockings, with her red go-boots ready to go, taking another look at Serena's face, and cracking a smile. Lisa idly wondered if Serena ever thought she was leadership material. She certainly was... Persuasive enough. "We don't even know what they're here for." Serena added.

"A robbery?" Lisa asked, putting socks on feet, and boots over them, doing up the laces, a more focused, intense look coming onto her face.

Serena shrugged her shoulders. "It's possible." She said, and, eyes sharpening as an idea came to her, ran to the desk, grabbing her bag of tricks off the floor. "I can't think of what they'd want to steal, though."

"It's an expensive hotel in the rich part of town." Lisa did up one last double bunny-ear knot and tucked the laces in. "There's probably no shortage of priceless heirlooms and trade secrets to grab."

"Maybe, but I'm still getting a really bad feeling from all this." She said, grabbing a pair of light over-ear headphones and showing them to Anabel. "I'm gonna plug these into my phone so you can talk to me." Serena explained. "We're a bit outgunned here, so I want to spring an ambush, and that means I need you to keep track of where they are."

"I'll try." Anabel replied, a sudden flush of determination. "Juggling both at once might be a bit tough - especially since the hacker's starting to figure out something's wrong. I'm turning the cameras back on as fast as he can cut them, and he's realizing he's not alone."

"Just keep him busy for as long as you can." Serena asked, and Anabel nodded her head, and Serena could feel something warm off her, and realized, Anabel was being... Well, cooperative, and not in a transactional way. The ghost girl, for the first time she could see looked... Worried.

"Wait!..." Lisa cut in, gunbelt already around her pyjama-top covered waist, beginning to look antsy. "Do you think WE might be their target?!"

Serena paused, then groaned and shook her head - she didn't have time to think with gunmen in the building. "I dunno." She shrugged her shoulders. "They don't seem like Lazerian's men, and I don't think I have any other mortal enemies... And I don't know any of YOUR mortal enemies." A guilty smile came on Lisa's face as she broke eye contact, and Serena shot her a sardonic grin. "Lets' just figure it out afterwards."

"And if they're not?"

"Then we don't have any problems and we can get back to helping Anabel find her dad's murderer." Serena's expression turned resolute, as she put her cell in her pocket and slipped the headphones over her head, rather loosely, so she could hear. "Lets' go be heroes." She said.

Lisa paused, and gave Serena a dry grin and a snicker. "Heroes?"

"Well..." Now, Serena was the one to look a bit guilty. "I was also thinking if we saved some rich nob, he'd owe us one, but quit it!" She lightly tapped Lisa's shoulder, a teasing smile on her face "You're screwing up my positive attitude!"

"You?" Lisa laughed. "Positive attitude?! Is Gabriel rubbing off on you?"

"I'm trying, okay?" Serena groaned. Well, truth be told, gunmen storming the hotel was a hard thing to make positive, but, with a new lease on life - and hematophagic nanites in her body that gave her a thirst for blood - she wanted to at least make the effort.

"Where are they now?" Serena whispered, leaning up against the hotel corridor's wall, phone in her left hand. Right free, ready to draw and fire. Even in the dead of night, the corridors of Clinton's Bed and Breakfast never went dark. The lamps, in their ornate, wooden fixtures, had turned a faint orange, from a bright gold in the day, lighting up what looked to be a hall of rustic, old-century home, as imagined by those of the upper crust.

Plush red carpet lay under Serena's boots, and a decorative wooden baseboard gave way to cream coloured walls and a vaulted ceiling. The unassuming-looking doorframes blended seamlessly in with the baseboard, behind which, high ranking bureaucrats, business tycoons, celebrities, and the famous for being famous slept peacefully, unaware of the gunfight brewing under their noses.

"They've passed through the kitchens on the first floor." Anabel's voice came in through the headphones. A light, cheap pair she'd picked up on sale from some electronics shop on her commute home, but they got the job done, the wire going down, and connecting to the bottom of her cell. "They're going through the one-bed suites on the ground level," She continued. "I think they're heading for the Northwest Stairwell-ARGH!"

Serena's eyes flashed open, her blood turning to ice. "Anabel?!"

"DIE, YOU MISERABLE CUR!" A hauntingly familiar tone burst into her headphones and made Serena recoil, and turn very worried, as she realized it, and Lisa was listening in on the exchange with a shocked expression.

"What's going on?" Serena impulsively barked into the phone. "Anabel, are you okay?"

A burst of static made Serena flinch again, but then, Anabel finally yelled out, "He threw a freaking grenade at me! I'm -NGH! Distracted." Anabel groaned. Then yelled out again, the blast of the attack she sent ringing in Serena's ears, and she could only listen in with a worried look on her face, and an anxious smile. "Look, I'm trying to follow those guys, break their encryption and fight this hacker!" She sounded exasperated.

"Don't push yourself too hard." Serena responded, and Anabel just gave her a haughty, mocking laugh in response.

"I can multitask! Besides, even having to work off your cyberdeck, I'll be fine. He's an- ARGH!" Serena's eyes flashed wide and a chill went up her spine, followed by relief as Anabel yelled "AMATEUR!" and another burst of static made her flinch. "I'll let you know if they change course." She added.

"Take care, then." Serena replied, taking a deep breath, and stuck the phone back in her pocket. "I'm just glad we had the time to get dressed..."

"Speak for yourself." Lisa shot her a dry, almost scornful look, and it took a moment for Serena to figure out why. At first, she thought it was because she'd run out the door in jammies, go-boots, and her gunbelt, but a look of embarrassment flashed onto Serena's face as she realized, she was staring into her chest - and she wasn't wearing a proper shirt, and her tank top was exposing way more cleavage than she usually let out, and she quickly turned away and crossed her arms to cover it and flashed a frown.

"Oh, for God's sake." She rolled her eyes. "Look, I just didn't have the time to put on a shirt." It was an... Odd sticking point in their friendship. "There isn't a worse time to compare breasts, so control yourself." Hers' were bigger. They'd never actually discussed it, but, sometimes, she couldn't shake the feeling Lisa was... Jealous.

"Whatever." Lisa turned away, flashed a smile, rolled her eyes, and had a look on her face like she didn't care. "So, what's your plan, Serena?"

"I don't really have much of one." She confessed, with a sigh, turning more... Perturbed. "Like I said, I want to spring a trap. They're heading to the Northwest Stairwell, and shooting from second floor might our best bet." She shook her head. "I don't wanna sugarcoat it, Lisa." The image of that massive machine gun in the lead gunman's hands flashed in her mind. "We're outgunned, here."

I know..." Lisa sighed, turning more serious, the teasing juvenility leaving her face. "I saw him, too."

"So I want to hit and run." Serena explained, feeling her trigger finger twitch, and, with a deep breath, she finally set off, Lisa following close behind, weapons still in their holsters - but ready to go, a quick look at a floor plan in an ornate frame guiding them to the right place. "Pop out of cover, shoot, run. No Hollywood stuff - I don't think we'd last long enough under fire to try it." She admitted, a gloomy, uneasy smile on her face.

"What about afterwards?"

A nervous feeling crawled up Serena's spine, as the stairwell at the end of the hall began to come into view - her skin feeling cold, despite the heat of her coat. "I don't know." She admitted, again. "We keep running, I guess." A nervous laugh came from her mouth. "If they follow us, we set up another ambush." She took a quick look over her shoulder. From the worried, uneasy smile on Lisa's face, and the way she kept fixing up her glasses, she wasn't inspiring much confidence. "I think..." Serena tried to focus on something good as she ran. Positive. Like she's said. Where was the silver lining? They were outnumbered and outgunned and in unfamiliar territory... A small, worried laugh escaped her lips. "We'll do fine - we've got the element of surprise on our side."

"That's it?"

"And Anabel." Serena turned more serious - and confident. That was the real ace up their sleeve. Surprise alone didn't count for much, but, with someone working the net, keeping tabs on where their opponents were... She took a deep breath, and found a smile coming to her face. They might just have a decent chance.

The girls' pace slowed, their steps becoming more quiet as they entered into the stairwell, their focus turning to being hidden. The Northwest Stairwell was, in fact, a corner of the B&B - a large, square off atrium with a grand staircase that hugged the wall, going up clockwise from the first to the second floor, wide enough to drive a luxury sedan through with room to spare, and with a small gallery of watercolours and pastels to please the eyes, going up or down -of urban, neon-coloured scenes, portraits of doubtlessly rich nobs, and a few curiously morose depictions of the blasted, war-torn wasteland of the world beyond the cities.

Serena wasn't able to give a cultured eye to the decor, preoccupied as she was with finding the best angle of attack. A wide balcony overlooked the chamber from the second floor, and, some experimentation revealed her handgun fit through the richly carved bars with room to easily aim, and wide mouth of the South corridor gave her a shot of the stairs to fire down.

The hairs on back of her neck stood on end. Her ears picked up the distant, harsh rapping of boots against the carpet from somewhere below, and Serena quickly scrambled to get in position. "They're coming near the staircase." Came Anabel's voice in the headphones. "They don't know you're there." She said.

They had to act - and quickly. Wanting to get the drop on them, she'd quickly put Lisa in position to shoot down into the stairwell, and took her place right beside her friend. She forced them both down, prone, onto the carpet, feeling the fuzzy surface on her exposed breast and skin, and her heart beating in her chest. It was one of the first things that'd been drilled into her weeks long 'boot camp through hell' to get her up to speed with the Special Asset Protection Squad. The first principle of gunfighting was 'Don't be shot.' That meant you should either be in cover, or get to cover. If that wasn't an option - like it was now - minimize your profile. They'd be harder to shoot, but also - Serena took a deep breath to steady herself. It'd make running away a tiny bit harder. The tradeoff would, hopefully, be worth it.

She could hear the gunmen's boots, closer and closer, ringing in her ears, like a whipping of a distant storm on the horizon. "Stay completely still." She whispered, turning to her friend, the two girls laying in the carpet, weapons over the balcony, completing a kill-zone over the stairs. "Follow my lead. Don't shoot until I do. Get up and and like hell as soon as I do."

Lisa nodded, taking in a deep breath, the sound of the gunmen's footsteps quickly closing in. A flash of unease shot through Serena's heart, and a bead of nervous sweat rolled. Lisa looked absolutely terrified. She was trying to hide it, but the nervous smile on her face, and the distant expression in her eyes gave it away. Serena turned her gaze back to the stairs, weapon feeling heavy in her hands. She couldn't blame her - she felt scared, too. They'd gotten involved, again, in mortal danger - that, possibly didn't even concern her, yet, still... Serena sighed, and held her weapon tightly. The cops wouldn't be here for minutes after the shooting started - someone needed to stand up. Metaphorically.

The brushing of boots on carpet intensified. Serena's heart picked up in pitch, going thump, thump, thump, as the gunmen drew closer, right red eye staring down the sights, through the balusters of the rail, ready to rock. Still... Serena found a tender, proud smile come to her face. Terrified as she was, Lisa had gone along with it without complaint - here, to Schwarzwalder Manor, even into the depths of Dr. Lazerian's hideout. She wasn't a fighter, Serena mused, but her friend was made of sterner stuff than she looked.

"This way." A voice. From below. Cold sweat ran down Serena's forehead. "Up the stairs." It barked, and Serena held her weapon tight, heart beating a hole in her chest beneath her. The voice was rough and grizzled and sounded Spanish, and didn't have a lick of nonsense or levity. It gave the impression of having been chewed up and spat out by a meat grinder and having emerged stronger for it. "Remember. Second Floor. North side." Her hands felt cold and clammy with sweat. That... Serena took a deep breath, and focused herself. Whatever they were after - assuming it wasn't them - was uncomfortably close to where their room was.

The first of them emerged into Serena's field of view a moment later. It took all of her self-control to not jerk the trigger and quite literally jump the gun and give herself away. It was very difficult, since, she was staring at the back of the gunmen's massive leader, bounding up the stairs, who, in his black coat and glasses, looked so much more imposing in person. To put it bluntly, he was massive! Wired to the gills, too - Serena knew the telltale signs from watching her colleagues, and from training. The slightly mechanical way he walked. The way he carried himself, as though something else was doing the heavy lifting for him, and, of course - Serena gulped - the massive, heavy machine gun, belt-fed, from a box on the side, with an imposing-looking fluted heat shield, that he hefted around like it was made of polystyrene.

Serena put her sights on him, centre of mass, as she reviewed the other two gunmen, shoring up the rear. The ones she'd mentally named Glasses and Blondie, after the defining features that stuck out in her head. Both wore the same sort of black leather trenchcoat as their boss - obviously, a few sizes smaller - the sort of garment that was good at hiding body armour and weapons, Serena knew from experience. They were less heavily armed than their boss, and less of a threat, but they still outgunned her with their bullpup submachine guns, with large, cylindrical magazines mounted above the receiver, each magazine holding God alone knew how many bullets, and...

Serena steeled herself, the wired-up point man reaching the halfway point up the stairs, about to turn, adjusting her aim, trying to go for his shoulder blade or somewhere that wouldn't be armoured, and squeezed the trigger. Hopefully she wouldn't have to find out.

A bang. A flash. A brass casing hitting the carpet, still smoking from its egress. The slide of her weapon flying back, a copper-jacketed bullet roaring through the air like the vengeful thunderbolt of Zeus, and all hell broke loose. She'd taken her shot at the luckiest possible time - the wired up point man... Shades, she decided to call him for the moment - turned around right as her bullet struck home, burying itself in his side with a spray of red vitae and black oil, a roar of fury rang in the whole chamber like an earthquake, and Serena, pressing the assault, followed up her first shot with nine more, dumping her magazine, aiming square for his centre of mass, and Lisa, beside her, sprung into action and followed her lead and send forth a hail of lead down into their opponents in the stairwell, and everything was a blur.

It felt like a whirlwind of violence and adrenaline rushed through Serena's mind like blood through a dry riverbed. Everything felt strangely distant. Her mind had completely gone on autopilot - she'd emptied her magazine without thinking about it, the muzzle flash blazing in her eyes like the burning bush, casings littering the carpet, and time seemed to go fuzzy at the edges as the gunfight began in earnest.

Most of the girls' flurry of bullets found their way into the gunmen's leader, the point-man erupting into an animalistic howl of pain and rage as the force of the gunfire staggered him and sent him careening into the wall. A third of their shots veered off course - despite the point-blank range, the nervousness, adrenaline, panic, and Serena's own admittedly wavery marksmanship made aiming precisely more difficult than it looked. Two of Lisa's shots found a new home in Blondie's shoulder, and, from the elegant yelp of pain and splatter of blood on her coat, at least one of them was a lucky one.

In a flurry of adrenaline and excitement and mortal panic, Serena didn't bother to stick around and wait for them to shoot back. As quick as if her parents were opening the door late at night without knocking, Serena sprung up, and grabbed Lisa by her collar and pulled and ran like the hounds of hell were at her heels, a faint moment before complete chaos broke out below, of which she got a brief glimpse.

The image was mostly blood and coolant leaking into the carpet, and the blonde having been knocked to the floor, - but the two girls were already gone by the time the bullets started flying their way, a hail of automatic gunfire ringing in her ears like the whirling storms of a hurricane, as dozens of bullets obliterated the position they'd been in just a moment ago, a storm of lead tearing through the floor and the banister and throwing up splinters of cloth and wood and Serena's heart pounded agonizingly in her chest, because she knew they'd been scant inches of away from being gunned down by their foes' counterattack.

Serena loosed her grip on Lisa's collar, and, though she nearly tripped, and definitely swore, she managed to get into a run of her own, as Serena hastily hit the magazine release, letting the empty mag fall to the carpet as she fished out and fumbled in a fresh one, racking the side, turning over her shoulder, eyes - and muzzle - focused on the entrance to the stairwell, where, any second now, she'd blast her pursuers with a fresh hail of bullets!...

A few awkward seconds passed before Serena noticed something... Odd. "Are they not gonna follow us?" Lisa asked, the red-haired spy visibly very worried, and the both of them beginning to slow.

"I don't know..." Serena found herself suddenly still. Breathing deeply. Heart pounding, weapon trained into the stairwell, expecting heavily armed gunmen to burst through any moment, but...

"They're not." Came Anabel's voice in her ears, to her simultaneous relief and confusion. "They're breaking off the chase and fleeing." And Serena just nervously laughed, and, realizing she was still pointing it, slowly lowered her handgun, while Lisa was giving her an odd look. "I've got more good news - I broke their encryption." A bit of smug self-confidence (warranted, in Serena's opinion) came onto her tone. "Want to listen?"

"I do want to listen," Serena's smile widened, as she sighed in relief - and then turned a bit awkward as she saw Lisa giving her an inquisitive sort of kitty-cat look, and, wordlessly, she pulled the headphones out of the jack and turned the volume up a bit, and said, "Patch us through." That made her friend look a kitty-cat who'd caught a particularly juicy mouse.

There was a short burst of static from her phone's speaker, and then, the gunmen's conversation. Both girls leaned into the phone, and Serena turned the volume up a bit. It... Wasn't a terribly good signal. Anabel's connection was spotty, at best, and every third word or so was either drowned in static or just dropped completely, but they were able to hear enough to make Serena very worried.

That was the ... target, wasn't it?" A dry, phlegmatic voice came from Serena's phone. From the caustic tone he bore, Serena assumed the part that didn't come in was a cuss.

"Aaargh..." Came a moan of pain. "If I see that red-haired ... again." A girl's voice - Blondie, definitely. "I'll ... kill her." At the moment, she didn't seem too elegant and ladylike, and Lisa's gaze shifted to the floor, a guilty smile on her face, and a look in her eyes like she was debating whether to laugh or run off and hide.

"Focus." The leader's voice, coarse and venomous, dripping with disappointment, and frustration. "How is she?"

"It's a nasty hit, but Diane will be fine." The phlegmatic voice again - Glasses, by process of elimination, though... Serena raised an eyebrow. Less phlegmatic than before. She could feel a small hint of anxiety off his words. "I can fix her on the ride home. What about you?"

"I'm still standing, aren't I?" Came Shades' sarcastic, bitter remark. "Concentrate on getting your ass to the extraction point. Redmond, is the van ready to go?"

"Ready to fly, boss." A new voice. Rough, with a dense drawl to it. "But why the hell we pullin' out so soon? You waste her, yet?" Serena's gaze focused at that. A bad feeling crept into her stomach.

"'Cause the mission's gone ... FUBAR, that's why!" Shades sounded resentful, and very angry. "We haven't wasted a damn thing! That bitch was waiting for us! It was HER! The target ... shot us!" Both Serena and Lisa's eyes went wide. The bad feeling intensifying, feeling almost nauseous, as the two girls locked eyes.

"Right again." Serena whispered, and Lisa looked uncomfortable, clearly taking no satisfaction in it. That... Serena took a deep breath, trying to calm down. The gunmen weren't here to rob anyone or take hostages, they were after THEM.

"Now Diane's taken a nasty shot and I'm all banged up myself." Shades continued on, with barely restrained homicidal fury. "And Where the HELL's Vic? I haven't heard a damn thing from him!"

"I'm still here." Came a new voice. Young and spritely, with a bit of smug self-assurance that seemed blunted a bit, his tone very focused and harsh. "Black ICE. Nobby damn place has tougher security than we thought. Hit me while I was cutting the cameras." Serena raised an eyebrow. Their mystery hacker, who was giving Anabel a hard time in cyberspace.

"We're pulling out, so quit playing with it, and get your ass out of the damn computer!" Shades cut him down, like an angry, disapproving father telling his teenage sons to turn down their awful rock music. "I wanna be the ... out of here before the cops show and we've gotta shoot out way out of this... Nobby damn bubble. We're not being paid by the ...-show, here! Vamos!"

"Fine." Vic - if that was his real name - sounded disappointed. "I was winning, anyways... Oh, Yeah!" He suddenly exclaimed, as though remembering something vitally important. "Everyone, switch channels!" Serena looked surprised - and suddenly, quite nervous and paranoid, while Lisa just groaned, looking disappointed. "My gear's picking up alot of activity that ain't us - I think the damn ICE might've done something with it."

That was that. It was the last thing Serena and Lisa heard before the gunmen all switched over and, presumably, continued their conversation as Serena's phone outputted nothing but static, before she asked Anabel to disconnect them entirely and let out a deep sigh and put her phone back in her pocket. The two girls stood there, in the hallway, attracting a few weird and nervous stares from resort guests in fine nightclothes as Serena and Lisa realized they both still hand their handguns drawn, before quickly putting them away, with Serena quickly buttoning up her coat.

Soon enough, as murmurs and rumours and questions began to fly in the air around them - a few directed at her and Lisa, that the redhead did her best to answer, and Serena... Didn't hear. She found herself leaning against the wall, the tranquility of this still night well and truly broken, skin all slick and clammy with sweat and her heart pounding in her chest.

They were trying to kill her. She just repeated it to herself, in her mind, over and over again. It felt like a halfbrick to the temple. A band of gunmen had driven all the way here and snuck into the hotel - and they were after her and Lisa! A lead weight sunk into her stomach - she probably wouldn't have even seen them coming, she realized, an uncomfortable look on her face. If Anabel hadn't been there... Although... She pulled the phone out of her pocket. "Anabel, you saved us." She said, needing to catch her breath. "You know you saved us, right?" It was an odd sensation. She felt gracious - and even quite proud at her, but it also felt a bit uncanny. Their relationship had changed rather quickly.

A chime. A text message. A smile crossed Serena's face. "You're welcome." She read off. "Pay me back by finding out who killed my father." She couldn't suppress a laugh at that, which gave her a few funny stares from the rich rubberneckers nearby. Even Lisa gave her a teasing smile.

"Are you feeling okay, Serena?" She asked, and she just laughed again.

"I'm still coming down from an adrenaline rush." She said. Breathing deeply, a warm smile on her face. Once again, they'd sprinted into the valley of death and came out the other side, but... Serena's expression more serious. Don't celebrate too soon, she told herself. Even if they'd been victorious, she'd merely chased the gunmen off - and if they were after her, and Lisa... A chill went up her spine. She knew they'd meet again - it was a matter of when. "But I'm fine. I think I need a shower." She said, laughing a bit. After the terror and chaos, gone as quickly as it'd came, Serena realized she was drenched in sweat. "And a good night's sleep."

Unfortunately, Serena would get neither of those anytime soon. Shades' concerns of a police response had been, in retrospect, well-warranted, and Serena had just about sunken into her room's bathtub, and closed her eyes when the door was blown in by a stern-faced police detective in a long, brown coat, and three beat cops right behind him in their red jackets, and Serena screamed, and instinctively reached for a gun she (thankfully, because it would have ended badly) didn't have and settled for scrambling up and covering herself with a towel. The detective just groaned, and flashed his polished, shield-shaped Monty's Mounties badge, and told her to get decent and be out in the hallway in five minutes or there would be hell to pay.

He, and his goons had buggered off, quick as they came, and Serena needed a few seconds to catch her breath and calm down before swearing up a storm, and toweling off - she couldn't really, in the circumstances, refuse. She'd stormed out of the bathroom, hands balled in fists, and Lisa was sitting up on her bed, still in jammies, still shocked: she'd been waiting her turn when the Mounties burst in. She'd lost best of three rock paper scissors, which, in retrospect, may have been a blessing.

Serena just told her friend to look the other way, because she needed to get dressed, and retrieved the jeans she'd been wearing earlier, as well as her coat, but needed to replace her socks, brasserie, and underwear, since they were soaked in sweat, and threw on a collared shirt. She also grabbed her badge and fished her ID from her wallet - she'd had a feeling she'd need it. She left the gun where it was, though - and was just thankful the detective hadn't taken it.

As it turned out, the police detective, Lieutenant Chetien, as he introduced himself, back in the hallway, was night and day in comparison to 'Ace private eye, Phil Edinburgh.' Phil had actually tried to be diplomatic. Chetien had merely barged his way into their hotel room when Serena had opened the door, and loudly, bitterly announced that he'd heard about their exploits in seeing the gunmen off from other hotel guests, and that he'd half a mind to lock them up for illegal possession, irresponsible use, and unsafe storage of a firearm, as well as assault, vandalism, vigilantism, and interfering with justice. Phil Edinburgh, after all, didn't have a badge and three cops backing him up.

Serena had gone completely apoplectic and the two of them erupted into a furious cavalcade of yelling, and even Lisa jumped right off the bed and started arguing as well. The two of them did a lot of finagling and twisting the screws, impassioned arguments of justice and self-defense, and a flash of Serena's dragon-imaged Special Asset Protection Squad badge to confirm, yes, as a matter of fact, she had the legal authority to bear and use a firearm, and the fact that the gunmen had been after HER, specifically.

Lieutenant Chetien looked stone-faced and unsympathetic, and there had been several instances of "Save it for the judge." until Serena, producing her phone, informed the detective she was going to call her boss, and made a non-too subtle comment about the ferocity of the Bathrette legal department. Lisa also demanded to speak with his superior officer, and that she wanted her lawyer, and pointed out how, if they'd ACTUALLY been talking around, like she had, he'd know that, as far as the guests were concerned, they'd saved the day, and it wouldn't look very good for them to be dragged out in cuffs. Especially after she'd pointed out the guests here were rich, and therefore, their opinion mattered, and Chetien's eyes began to glance to the window, and he began to look a lot less stone-faced, a bureaucratic snowball of bad press looming on the horizon.

With a shake of his head, and a defeated expression, Chetien decided he'd relent, and would let them go with a warning - they were, after all, not the real crooks, and Serena's expression looked particularly galled at that. The arrest wouldn't go through, and, clearing his throat, the detective shifted gears, and demanded to know everything about the attack - and the gunmen. Which wasn't very much. Serena had, suspicion prevailing, left out the details of exactly how they'd gotten the drop on the attackers, and the rest of it was a whirlwind of violence and panic, so, she couldn't give a clear description of her faces, or any description beyond "A bunch of guys in long, black coats." and the defining features of three of them.

He'd tried probing more, but, it soon became uncomfortably clear that Serena had told all she knew, and, with clear reluctance, he and his men made their exit, a token tip of the hat from Chenier and a warning to "Stay out of trouble." Before he slammed the door, and, Serena just collapsed down on her bed, lights on, staring into the ceiling, breathing deeply. Trying to relax, and largely failing. the eerie feeling of how close she'd been to spending the night in jail hanging on her skin like a static charge.

"So?..." Lisa broke the silence, sitting down beside her, a small smile on her face, but bags under her eyes, and a coy tone, and Serena groaned.

"I'm just going to lie here until I calm down, so, yeah, you can take a bath." She sighed, and Lisa coquettishly flicked a lock of hair. I'll go after-

She didn't get to finish her sentence, before an awful racket of bells began to ring loudly in her ears, and she, instinctively, panicky, jumped right back up from her bed, reaching for her weapon - and an uncomfortable, embarrassed smile crossed her face when she realized it was the phone, and Lisa broke into raucous laughter.

The caller was a from the hotel's front desk. The image of a young, nervous-looking young blonde girl in an attendant's uniform popped up on the vidscreen when she'd answered, and said, "Good evening, Ms. Ramneau." in a tone that matched her face - professional, but clearly rattled. Considering what had happened, Serena couldn't blame her.

"Good... Evening?" Serena sounded confused, and awkward, not sure how to approach the conversation. "Can I... Help you?"

"A Mister Schwarzwalder is at the front desk, and wishes to speak with you." The receptionist replied, pulling a professional, matter of fact tone, even as Serena's eyes went wide in surprise. News apparently travelled fast around here. "Do you want to come down, or may I send him up?"

"I'll..." Serena tugged at her collar, it feeling suddenly... Tight. "I'll come down." She said. "Did... Mr. Schwarzwalder say anything about what he wants to talk about?"

"Just that he wants to see you." The receptionist responded, and Serena took a deep breath. "I'll tell him you'll be right down." She continued. "Thank you for lodging with Clinton's, and I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay." She hung up the phone, image flickering out, and Serena's composure shattered like a wineglass hitting a tennis racquet, and she began to laugh cathartically - and then groaned. No rest for the wicked, she mused.

"My God!" Was how Hollace greeted them, a look of genuine surprise and astonishment in the portly man's eyes as he saw Serena and Lisa enter the lobby and approach the richly decorated, wooden front counter. The old century charm dispelled somewhat by all the computer screens and various devices on and around it. "You're alive!"

She just shot him an odd stare, and said nothing, instead taking a moment to get a better look at her surroundings. The B&B's lobby introduced it's design philosophy to the guests straight away, the Ur-example of rusticity viewed through riches. It resembled an old foyer - a larger one any old century family would have had. Cream coloured walls terminated in a vaulted ceiling, from which hung soft, orange lamps that lit the whole room. There was a large lounge area, with coral upholstery and dark, wooden coffee tables, matching the front desk. Past it were two richly decorated portals into the hotel itself. one led into the dining room, where, this morning Serena had had the nicest breakfast she'd ever eaten. The second led into the first floor suites. Rooms for sole travelers, and it was where, tonight, she and Lisa passed a taped-off crime scene, investigators analyzing blood splatters and shell casings. "Well," She said. "Were you expecting something else?"

"No! No!..." Hollace just laughed, and gave Serena a friendly slap on the shoulder and nearly firing off her fight or flight instinct. "It's just, you know." He adjusted his necktie. "You hear about these things on the news, see a bunch of police cars out front, and you get worried..."

Serena turned her eyes towards the tall, gothic windows and open front doors of the resort, out into the street. The gunfight looked like it had caused a massive panic - the whole street was lit up, and there were a dozen white, red and blue police interceptors parked outside, lighting up the night sky with their blue blinkers. Even two vans full of SWAT officers, in red and black body armour, standing outside their transports, rifles in hand, looking bored to tears, which put an impish smile on Serena's face.

"Well, we're alive." Serena reaffirmed, with a smile and a fist over her heart, feeling relieved to hear it said aloud.

"A-hah!" Hollace just flashed a wide smile. "I shouldn't have expected anything less!" He exclaimed, putting a hand on both their shoulders, now - and making it a bit awkward.

"This was a bit different." Serena added, her demeanour turning more grim, as she pulled his hand off. "It wasn't an accident - they came here to kill us."

"What?!" Hollace visibly recoiled back, eyes wide in shock, before he took a deep breath, wiped his brown with a handkerchief, and composed himself. "You're not serious, are you?"

"Very serious." Lisa piped in, visibly unimpressed, and Serena's eyes found themselves drawn to the slate in her hand, and stylus behind her ear. "Serena," She paused, to adjust her glasses. "Cracked the gunmen's radio encryption." She said. Serena herself looked a bit impressed. It was a half-truth - her cyberdeck had been involved, but Lisa, it seemed, preferred to keep Anabel's... Talents, hidden. For the best, she mused. It did concern her a bit how easily she could string a lie, though - even a little white one.

"Well..." Hollace just awkwardly adjusted his tie. "This isn't something that happens every day." He said. "I do hope you're not too frazzled."

"I was." Serena admitted, cracking a heavy-lidded look. "I think the novelty's worn off by now."

"Good... Good..." Hollace awkwardly cleared his throat. "Well, as I said, I'm just glad you're alright." He tried to laugh a bit, though, Serena found it a bit forced and uncanny. "I don't mean to be churlish, but I really do hope this bit of misfortune doesn't get in the way of your mission."

"I don't think it will." Serena replied, though, she knew in her heart that she was lying. Phil's words - and Yuri's warnings - about hired killers were suddenly much harder to overlook...

Hollace had little to say after that. There was a bit of awkward small talk and a half-joke about if they were closer to getting the ghost off his mainframe, but, soon enough, sensing the mood, he departed, wishing the girls a good night's sleep - which Serena found she sorely needed.

The two girls turned and went back, deciding to take the elevator for expedience - and Serena found it a bit amusing that the whole hotel had only three floors and a basement to go to. No sooner did sliding grates and doors close and the elevator began to move, did Lisa turn over to her friend and say, "That wasn't a coincidence."

"It wasn't..." Serena shook her head. "No, definitely not. If they'd been here for anyone else I'd chalk this whole thing up to bad luck - but you heard them!" She exclaimed. "They were here to kill US! What the hell, FOR?!"

An uncomfortable silence hung in the lift as it smoothly glided from the first floor to the second. Serena and Lisa both looked to the floor with a pair of uneasy expressions.

"I know you said it already, but it can't be Dr. Lazerian, out for revenge." Lisa piped in.

"He's probably have sent his zombies." Serena sighed. She'd... Well, admittedly, there was a lot of waste to her life she regretted, but something she was more proud of - and, at the same time, scared of - was having busted up the evil plans of - thus earning the eternal enmity of - a necromantic, murderous mad scientist. "Even his regular goons were, well, nerds. Amateurs. These guys were composed and well-practised. I don't want to jump to conclusions, but..." She cleared her throat. "I think these guys might be connected with the killer we're looking for - I can't think of any other reason someone would want us dead."

"Yeah." Lisa looked uncomfortable - but determined - as the elevator doors slid open with the chime of a bell, opened, and the two girls found themselves back in the hall. "I know Edinburgh said he'd handle it," She rolled her eyes, but I want to look into this, too. It's not quit enough to go on, but I'm reminded of what Yuri said."

"Yeah?"

"Well, he didn't SAY it..." Lisa cracked a smile and adjusted her glasses. "But from how the police detective was that pissed off, I get the impression they haven't caught the gunmen yet."

Serena's eyes flashed, the vampire becoming more alert. "So, they slipped through the police's dragnet."

"Like the gangsters who attacked Jonas' limousine." The smile on Lisa's face widened, and her gaze turned sharp, and inquisitive. "Coincidence?"

"No such thing, as far as I'm concerned." Serena added, with a heavy-lidded stare. "I'd be more surprised if it turned out there were TWO bands of killers running around the city. Lets' look into it."

Then, Lisa's smile changed, turning a bit coy, and guilty, and her gaze turned away from her friend. "After this."

"After what?" Serena raised an eyebrow, the two of them, slowly, making their way down the halls, back to their hotel room, in the North wing - checking the map, and trying to ignore the occasional impressed, intimidated state from passers-by. Like Chetien had said, word of their exploits went by, fast.

"I know I said I'd show you tomorrow, but..." Lisa paused, before pushing the dataslate (that Serena had forgotten she was still holding) right into her face, with a sly grin. "This is the person I was looking into earlier, who I want to talk with - Evelyn Blackwell." She said, and Serena's eyes lidded, as she pushed the slate away, and got a better look at the her face.

An older lady, maybe late thirties, early forties, with curly, black hair, cut short, framing her face, and persistent-looking bags under her eyes, and a general no-nonsense attitude. "She's Jonas' Principal Private Secretary - basically the person handling a lot of the day-to-day running of the company." Lisa continued. "Jonas was, technically, the CEO, but almost everything I can find about him named him as the Studio Director. She's a major mover and shaker, and every source I can find says she and Jonas worked closely together so, she could probably shed some light on why Jonas was killed, and who might've done it.

"Don't you think you're..." Serena's expression turned more skeptical. "Putting ICE on the server before you've even got a data vault?"

"My priorities are well in order, thank you very much." Lisa, sarcastically, put her free hand to her hip. "I want to talk with Evelyn first because I've got all the details worked out already. I know where she is and how to get to her. As for those guys who tried to kill us?" She shrugged her shoulders. "I have no idea where to even start looking!... A sharp, coy look came in her eyes. "And no, Serena, messing around on hacker forums trying to bounce into a rumour doesn't count."

Serena crossed her arms. "Well, it worked last time!"

"Well, hopefully we won't have to resort to getting lucky." Lisa replied with a wry grin."

"I'd rather minimize the time I spend with a gang of killers after me."

"I'm not saying we're never going to look into them." Lisa groaned. "I just want to go after what I know, first. Besides..." She let out a coy, teasing laugh. "You got them once already, Serena."

Serena just rolled her eyes. "We'll talk about this tomorrow morning." She sighed. "After a bath and a long night of sleep."

"Oh, yeah!" Lisa's face lit up, and a sudden look of unease came over Serena. "You said I could go before you, earlier."

"That was...-"

"No backsies."

They paused in the hall, locking eyes, tension about to bubble over, before an idea crossed Serena's mind, and she flashed a sharp, spirited grin, Serena extended her hand, balled into a fist, and exclaimed, "Best two of three!"

Serena took a deep breath, staring up into the polished, marble ceiling of the hotel bathroom, loudly yawning, having a feeling she was going to be dead tired tomorrow. They'd gotten back to their room, already quite late in the morning, and, Lisa had taken her sweet time in the bath, and now it was well past the hour where even witches would be crawling back into bed. She sunk a bit further into the bubble-covered water, and then pushed herself out a bit, chin right on the water's surface, trying not to fall asleep. But, really... Serena yawned again. It was hard. It was so... Comfortable.

She hadn't had a proper bath, she realized, since she'd left for university. She'd forgotten how... Nice it was, to sink into warm water, soothing worn-out muscles and caressing her skin, face framed by bubbles, and just forget all your troubles. Their job had become... Uncomfortably personal. It was almost enough to make her feel a bit cold, despite the hot water she'd been immersed in, and the fluffy bath pillow under her neck.

A gang of gunmen had burst into the hotel they were staying in, and it was an... Admittedly odd assumption to jump to, but... Serena sunk in a bit further, feet sticking out of the water and resting on the opposite side of the tub. There was a non-zero chance they were connected to the murderer. She couldn't think of a reason someone would want to kill her - except, she mused, to stop them from uncovering the truth behind Jonas Schwarzwalder's murder... She put a finger to her chin, reminded of what Phil had said. She'd narrowed down the list of who could have done it to those who could hire a gang of assassins...

She just sighed, and sunk a bit deeper into the bath. That could probably wait. Until tomorrow morning. Right now, despite the problem looming overhead, like the battlements of an enemy citadel on the horizon, it felt unimportant. A relaxed, warm smile crossed her face. In here, it felt like the world - and her worries - ended where the porcelain did. She'd definitely miss this, Serena mused. After they'd checked out, it was going to be hard to go back to a stall in the apartment's showers. Maybe she ought to try that Roman Bath she kept seeing ads for...

A warm, distant, daydreamy look came on her face, idle fantasies crawling across her mind... One day, maybe, she'd get a promotion, or she'd marry some nice guy with a good job, and could afford to live somewhere with more than one room, and she'd be able to have a bath every day, and, while she was fantasizing, she'd cook real eggs and make real coffee every morning, and she'd have a cool car... Maybe another Jaguar, in the garage, and get greeted every morning with a kiss, and a couple of kids running in from the yard of Mr. and Mrs. Serena, and give them a kiss on their way to school-!

Serena's eyes shot open and she quickly sat upright, laughing nervously, face flushed, and red, and she tightened up, and looked down, into the bubbly water, and took a deep breath. Oh, silly Serena, she thought to herself... Well, maybe she'd been here for too long. She held up a hand to her red eyes, and whistled. Yep, the tips of her fingers were beginning to go a bit prune-like, and - another loud yawn escaped her lips - she was really tired, too. Maybe it'd be better to go to sleep.

With a deep breath, Serena finally stood up, drawing herself up from the bath, rivulets of water dropping off her, dripping from her black hair, rolling over her chest, down her well-defined stomach and arms, and well-toned legs, a few patches of foam clinging to her skin as she emerged from the bath, like a water nymph, stepping onto the fuzzy red bath mat and reaching down, pulling the plug, an loud glooping noise filling her ears as the pressure changed and a whirlpool emerged, drawing the water back into the pipes and eliminating any trace she'd been here.

She quickly towelled off, drying her hair first and then wrapping it around her body, the fluffy, elegantly crafted, large red cloth caressing her skin with its finery. Squeaky clean, and dry as she was going to get, Serena shut off the bathroom lights, and emerged, back into their darkened hotel room, careful and quiet as a mouse, to dress herself. In the closet, she and Lisa had both brought a suitcase full of clothes, since they expected to be here for a while.

Jackets and belts - of the holding guns, and holding pants variety - they'd hung up, but, everything else was still either in a laundry pile, or hadn't been worn and was therefore still neatly folded. Serena had found a new undershirt to wear to bed, but, when it came to her brasserie and underwear, she'd nearly put on the ones she'd been wearing a bit before. They didn't have the time to get dirty, but, she paused, about to hook the bra on. She was thinking a bit thrifty, Serena realized. The hotel didn't just have a laundry room - it had laundry STAFF, who, as part of their stay, would clean whatever dirty clothes she had. Serena just laughed a bit, quietly - trying to not wake her friend up. While she was here, at least, she could afford to be extravagant with wearing underpants for about twenty minutes, and fetched new underclothes from her suitcase.

Finally, clean, dressed, and still having a warm, fuzzy feeling from the bath - and her idle fantasies - Serena finally made her way, back over to her bed, feeling the warm, comforting jaws of sleep sticking its fangs into her, and she let loose another yawn - quietly this time - and pulled off the covers, about to sink in and forget the night's events...

She stopped. About to hop in and fall asleep, Serena paused, the heavy-lidded, half-asleep look wiped off her face, suddenly attentive and alert as an... Odd impulse passed her mind. Something that she found she didn't quite want to ignore. Slowly, she turned away from the inviting covers, and turned towards the other bed. One that was already occupied, Lisa's homely looking face poking out from under the covers, framed by untamed locks of dyed, red hair, and more... Pure. Her eyes drifted to the set of spectacles, folded on her nightstand. She didn't see Lisa without her glasses too often these days.

Lisa had changed, she mused. Not as dramatically as she had, mind - Serena ran her tongue over her teeth, feeling the sharpness of her fangs brush the tender flesh - but it was still a change. She'd changed, too, in the way Serena saw her. They hadn't really been friends until they'd both been assigned to track down Dr. Lazerian, but they had known eachother for a while. They'd both joined up with Bathrette's cybersecurity division at around the same time.

They'd talked, they'd exchanged gossip around the lunch table, but... Serena sighed. No, on reflection, she mused, she hadn't really known Lisa very well. It was a bit funny - a small grin came to her face. She'd thought that Lisa's attitude had changed; she'd never really thought of her friend as a pushy, nosy, inquisitive little spy with a love of information and a few sensitive spots who was super hung up over her ex-boyfriend, but that wasn't a change. Now that she and Lisa were friends, she mused, she was seeing what she really was - and an uncomfortable look came over her. What if it was both ways, she mused. What if Lisa found out what... She gulped. She really was? Would they still be friends? Would she still be... Alive?-

"Yes?..." Lisa suddenly asked, and Serena flashed into a blind panic, scrambling into bed and throwing herself under the covers, as Lisa just looked on with a coquettish smile. "I'm a light sleeper." Serena groaned, the masquerade broken, stuck her head out from under the covers.

"I'm sorry." Serena groaned, "If I woke you up."

"It's not a problem." Lisa's smile widened. "At least, it's not a problem if it was something important..."

"It wasn't."

"Well, what was it, then?" Lisa laughed a bit. "Unless you were the murderer and tried to kill me." She said, completely deadpan, and Serena rolled her eyes.

Serena just groaned, and turned towards the ceiling, buried in the covers, eyes lidding, as she tried to think of something to say - or whether to anything at all. "I guess i was curious." She finally admitted with a deep breath. "Why'd you switch to glasses?" She asked.

"I dunno." Lisa replied, rather quickly. "I guess cause I feel they're more practical than contacts. Plus..." Serena turned, and saw a sly grin on Lisa's face. "I guess I wanted to reinvent myself. Like you, I think."

Serena turned over to the ceiling again, a dry, nervous laugh escaping her lips. "What do you mean?" She asked - despite knowing.

"Your eyes, for one." Lisa responded, and Serena felt a chrysalis burst in her stomach, butterflies fluttering around inside her. "Why'd you dye them red?" A bead of cold sweat ran down Serena's forehead, and her fangs felt uneasy.

"They're-!" She tried to exclaim, but-

-Not contacts." Lisa sternly cut in, and Serena sunk further under the covers. "Don't insult my intelligence, Serena - I've used contact lenses for years. I have never seen you change them out. EVER."

An uncomfortable stillness filled the air. Serena stirred under the covers as the revelation stuck in her mind. Lisa, without glasses, somehow reminded her of... She took a deep breath. What she'd lost. How her life had changed. She was, after all, terminally ill - the nanites didn't cure her. They just stopped the cancer in her blood from spreading further and killing her. She'd kept her life, but now she needed the life-blood of others to live...

A bead of sweat ran down her neck and her fangs buzzed. Worse than that, she had to keep the secret of her survival at all costs. Her secret was so valuable that all of Bathrette's competitors would be literally out for blood if they found it. It was so horrible she risked being torn apart by a mob before the C-men could even grab her. It felt like a leaden cloak. Protecting her, but weighing her down and crushing her, and making her vulnerable in odd ways... She laughed, uneasily. Her friend was a woman who loved secrets. It made things a bit awkward.

"I guess I just wanted to reinvent myself, too..." Serena said. A lie to cover up another. It wasn't an intentional change - red eyes were an unwanted side effect - the least sinful thing the nanites did, but it reminded her of who she was, and what she had to do to live, every time she looked in the mirror... Live. To Live, to love, to feel and experience all there was to life. She could have... Serena laughed, no, she couldn't have refused. Her fate was sealed the day she found she was dying, and Gabriel had came, like an angel - or a fallen one - and made her an offer she couldn't refuse. "I guess when you make a big change, you want to redefine yourself a bit."

Thinking about it, Serena realized she didn't regret it. Her life, since nearly dying, and coming back as a blood sucking monster, had become... More. Exciting, for one - even if it'd also become more dangerous. She turned back to Lisa, less anxious, and a wily smile on her face. It'd even led her to make some actual friends - even if one was irritating, and the other... Creeped her out, sometimes.

"It fits you." Lisa replied, her tone softening, but still teasing. "Red goes with your hair - and gloomy attitude."

A flash of irritation shot onto Serena's face as she turned back, replacing the fear and unease. "I'm not gloomy!" She moaned.

"Yeah, you are." Lisa laughed, rolled her eyes, and turned over to her other side. "But you're getting better. You ARE a lot more positive these days. G'nite, Serena.

"G'nite..." Serena turned away, smiling a bit. She couldn't really deny it - especially with how she dressed, and cut her hair, but... She took a deep breath. 'Getting better.' She played the words back in her mind. It was... Nice to hear. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, feeling the warm grasp of Morpheus caress her, and ignoring the faint embers of... Gnawing, black hunger inside of her.

A few hours earlier, an unmarked, unassuming, boxy white Mercury Marathon van sped from the tunnel, out onto the suspension bridge that linked the domes to the rest of St. Petersburg, well ahead of the police dragnet. It was going three under the speed limit of seventy seven kilometres an hour - the most unassuming speed there was. Five under would be too obvious. Over was too risky. It took practised precision to do three under.

The driver, a distant, dry looking man who went by the code name of Redmond, in a black coat, with dark skin and long hair done up in dreadlocks, was well-practised, and was peering ahead through the snowstorm with his one good eye - the right one he kept covered until the time was right to give someone a death glare they wouldn't forget - focusing at the gateway. He was the team's getaway driver, and his attitude was collected, and almost bored. It was well-rehearsed. People tended to ignore you if you looked like you were just trying to get through your shift.

The Marathon rolled up to the gatehouse, and Redmond turned over to the similarly bored looking attendant - the one he'd known would be on duty tonight - identification already in hand. The van's plates were legit - so was the insurance, registration, and the two ID cards. It all said he and the van belonged to a private catering company. He placed the stack of placards and documentation down on the desk - and some sleight of hand concealed a pair of banknotes. Part of being a professional was the network - knowing who was a good sport, who would accept... Compensation, in exchange for having forgotten you were ever here. This not being his first rodeo, and, anticipating future such compensation, the gate guard wordlessly nodded, handed the documentation back, and raised the gate, and the van sped off into the night.

The choice of vehicle was important, too. Flashy cars got attention. Vans made the eye glaze over you - and they could hold a half-dozen heavily armed mercenaries, and could be made scan-proofed, so, even if you were stopped, the hard-working Mounties, after they'd received their... Perks of the job, could more easily ignore all the illegal weapons in the back. A van could get in anywhere, blend in anywhere, and get out of anything. A good getaway was an art.

"What an awful night..." Diane moaned from the backseat, and Redmond took a deep breath. The getaway was the only thing that had gone well. Inside the back of the van, were his four other colleagues, sitting on the benches, and, through the small viewport in the dividing wall, Redmond could see they were all radiating disappointment - except for Vic, the hacker, slumped over with trodes on his head and cyberdeck on his legs, busy with a quick hack job. Redmond had taken care of the human element - Vic was handling the technological one, making sure there was no evidence they'd been here. The hacking job was all done, though, and he'd pulled the trodes off, and now, he was able to join the rest of his colleagues.

"I know, I know." Pascal - the team's combat medic, said from beside her. "Just hold still." Victor turned over towards him, and groaned. Diane had easily taken the worst of it, even if she hadn't taken the most lead. That honour belonged to their boss, Corto, who was sitting beside him, stony-faced, and inscrutable behind those sunglasses he always wore. Diane, meanwhile, was sitting beside Pascal, on the other side of the van - and something Vic had noticed, was they'd always sat together - armour removed, on the floor, shoulders exposed, and Pascal was busy, with tweezers and, disinfectant, working to pull the bullet out of her shoulder, and holding her rather tightly...

"Getting a bit handsy with her there, Pascal?" Vic leaned back, and teased. A young-looking man with a blue streak dyed into his messy, black hair, and wearing a cocky, irritated look. The medic briefly paused and shot him a glare - as did his patient.

"I need a proper grip to get the bullet out." He explained, dryly.

"Vic. Shut up." Diane was a lot more direct, and a lot more irritable - despite the painkillers already working their magic. "Don't listen to him, Pascal. It's fine."

"Why don't you three." Corto finally piped up, in his rough, irritable, accented tone. "Discuss something productive, for once." Pascal went back to work, Diane zoned out, and Victor just sighed, and turned his gaze to the blood-covered floor... That, with all luck, he'd draw the short straw and need to clean out. Everyone seemed a bit ticked off, and he couldn't blame them. A stroke of some of the worst luck he'd ever seen turned a slink and shoot job into a desperate escape.

He took a deep breath and leaned back in his seat, holding onto his cyberdeck as the van rumbled around them. It was a bit cramped in here, not helped by the lack of windows - they didn't want to give rubberneckers a look at their shiny guns - and starkly lit. The bulb in the ceiling could be adjusted, and normally, it was dark red, but since Pascal needed to see properly, the back of the van was flooded with a harsh, surgical white. Normally, Vic liked the trenchcoat-clad misfits he'd worked with, but tonight, it definitely was going to be a long drive.

"This was NOT an accident." Diane declared, and flinched, as, with a splash of blood that made even Vic wince, the 10mm slug finally emerged from her shoulder, and Pascal quickly packed the wound with gauze. "They were waiting for us." She added.

"I..." Pascal murmured, while cleaning up her exposed shoulder with hydrogen peroxide and a surgical cloth. "Hm. From where we were standing, I think I'd have to agree."

Vic raised an eyebrow. "Well, what do you mean?" He asked, the inside of the van growing a bit more tense, punctuated by the rumbling of the engine, his colleagues faces going from angry and detached to... Intrigued. Almost inquisitive.

"The target was waiting for us." Diane growled, anger piercing through the pleasant haze of painkillers. "The girls were in the perfect spot to get the jump on us, and got the first shot. That's not bad luck, that's a setup."

"It would also explain the difficulties you ran into while in the hotel's Information Systems." Pascal added, and Vic groaned.

"I'm not prepared to make that call yet." He responded, running fingers through his hair like a comb, disturbing, for a moment, the streak of dyed blue, matching his eyes. "It was a nasty piece of ICE in there, but-"

"Isn't the target a hacker?" Diane asked, adjusting her position in the seat, while, on her shoulder, Pascal began applying a compress, working... Vic's eyes narrowed. He got the impression he was being more... Tender than he was with the rest of them, and rolled his eyes. "She could have planted it. Even something like... What do you call those programs that are a bit like ICE, but they work for you?"

"ASSIST Modules." Vic shrugged his shoulder again. "Maybe? It could've been a really strong one, but I've never seen an ASSIST fight as hard as that program did..."

"We're getting off topic, here." Corto's rough, pitiless, accented voice dominated the van, and the mood shifted. All eyes turning to him, but, after the... Boondoggle inside the hotel, no one wanted to meet his gaze. "I agree with Diane. This WAS a setup." His tone brokered no room to argue, and the words stuck in the air like a head on a pike.

"So who set us up, then?" Pascal broke the silence, tone as dry as a desert martini. "And, to the point, how'd they do it?"

"Someone definitely tipped her off." Vic crossed his arms. "And if the ICE I ran into was hers, it'd explain all the mess with the radio." That just left an uncomfortable silence in the van. The whole team crossing arms, stroking chins, and staring down at the floor, and at eachother, disquiet and unease filling the air.

"The client." Redmond piped up, from behind the divider, and the whole team sprang to alertness. Vic, though, felt more dubious. It didn't make sense. He peered over to the small port in the dividing wall, catching a brief glimpse of the dancing snowfall and glimmering neon outside their windscreen as the van drove down the massive, twelve-lane Fontaine highway that dominated the city, on their way home.

"What makes you think that?" Vic asked, and, hands on the wheel, Redmond shrugged, and Vic's expression turned heavy-lidded.

"Always got to consider the possibility, kid." The driver replied, very matter of fact. "One thing you always gotta keep in mind is, motherfuckers always think they can pull some Sierra Madre shit. Get away with all the gold and skip out on the bill, see? Payment in advance - and sometimes not even then - or it ain't a sure thing you'll get out in one piece."

"And the cheap bastard made us settle for forty per cent in advance." Diane pointed out, the patch on, she began pulling her jumper back over her shoulders, flinching a bit.

"It was an improvement on the original terms." Pascal added, as he stuck his tweezers in a small, purposeful plastic jar of antiseptic and began packing the rest of his medical tools back into his special chest rig. "He'd first tried to go for a fifth in advance. Arguing him up the other twenty percent was like pulling teeth." Vic's eyes went to the large pliers sticking out of his rig, and he got the impression Pascal wasn't speaking in figure.

"You'd think he didn't want the damn job done at all, with how hard he argued the terms." Corto crossed his arms. "Still," He turned over to the front of the van. "Redmond, you really think the client would be stupid enough to bump us off? He didn't sound like he was done - the impression I got was he needed these two girls out of his hair yesterday."

"Like I said, I can't prove it." Redmond continued, hands on the wheel. "But you know this line of work better than anyone, boss. People screw you over all the time - just an occasional occupational hazard."

"I didn't trust this guy to begin with..." Diane added. "Shifty bastard. Sort of guy who'd sell his own mother. It wouldn't surprise me if he'd set this whole thing up in advance to get rid of the evidence and the bill."

"None of us trust him, Diane." Corto pointed out, and adjusted his sunglasses, with a wide smile. "That's why we've got the insurance on him. Don't we, Vic?"

"Yyyyyyup..." Victor turned back towards his colleagues, a cocksure, satisfied smile crawling onto his face. "If he does try to screw us over, he'll have a looooong time to regret it from the inside of a prison cell." He let loose a sarcastic laugh. "If they don't just give him the electric chair."

"Okay then..." The Waldersoft Cybersecurity tech' gestured with his hand, spoke aloud a word of power, and a pair of bright, red rectangular badges appeared infront of Serena and Lisa's avatars. "These are are your day passes." He explained, from behind his odd, geometric desk. "Stick e'm on the front of your avatars and the ICE will let you in the secure areas."

"Thank you..." Serena pinned her badge on her waistcoat, Lisa on her blazer, both a bit awkward. "Very much." She finished. It was a bit... Odd, to be visiting the server of another corporation - and to see how they differed. Bathrette men were clean, and, well, corporate. Even the cybersec techs - like her and Lisa were - carried themselves as professionals, not as hackers (at least, while on the clock).

"Oh yeah. Don't forget." The tech - Max, by the nametag on his coat - gestured with his index finger. At WalderSoft, it was the opposite. Max looked like he'd had a fun time designing his virtual proxy: A double breasted black coat, covered in studs and chains, and a wide brimmed black cowboy hat that cloaked his face in a mask of shadow. It'd probably been intended to give him a cool, mysterious appearance, but it reminded Serena too much of the shadowy hoods Lazerian's men wore on the net. "It's a visitation pass ONLY." His voice turned more reproachful, as Serena and Lisa's eyes lidded. "Don't go try downloading or uploading anything or showing off your fancy attack programs, or the ICE will kick you out like-" He snapped his virtual fingers. "That!"

"Thank you." Serena shot him a dry look, as he sat back down in his virtual chair. "We'll be... Respectful." She said, taking a brief look at the landing page (a term that endured from the old internet) they'd ended up in. A visitors centre of sorts, with a retro style: Flat, geometric, brightly coloured, everything with a sort of odd frosted glass or marble texture, with lots of blues and whites. Soft sunlight poured in from skylights overhead, giving a view of a digitized, pleasant summers' day outside. "Anyways, could you direct us to Mrs. Blackwell's office?" Serena asked.

"It's through the workshop, and, Err..." Max's voice trailed off a bit, his gaze turning to the skylight overhead. "Up the first staircase on the left... Or, was it the right?..." Serena took a deep breath. This was the unfortunate compromise. She'd slept well into the afternoon, but, despite going to bed late, Lisa was up early to catch the worm and had been trying to finagle a meeting with the Principal Private Secretary all morning. It'd been difficult. Only forcing Hollace's hand had gotten them the meeting in the first place - with great reluctance on his part - and Evelyn, swamped with work, had only consented to meet with them virtually, so, here they were. From the hotel room, connecting on Serena's cyberdeck, all the way to WalderSoft's server.

"Oh, sod it." He sighed, before jumping from the seat again. "I know where it is, I just can't articulate it - Don't worry, I'll just take you there. So, If you'll follow me, ladies..." Max gestured for them to come along, and made for the frosty, sliding glass door behind his desk, extending a hand... And pausing. "Actually." He laughed, awkwardly. "Just a sec, I can't leave the front desk empty - gotta find someone to cover for me."

Serena had been expecting another cybersecurity technician, or a clerk, but to her surprise, the man brought two fingers to the spot on his shadowed face she'd expect the mouth to be, whistled, and yelled out, "Spot! Here, boy!" She and Lisa both expected a dog - and were surprised to see, emerging out from nowhere in particular, a massive, white spider with glowing blue eyes, crawl down the wall and behind the desk, right into the chair, turning it's beady eyes and fuzzy face and prominent fangs towards them. Serena just smiled nervously, and Lisa quickly hid behind her taller friend and tried her best to not look directly at it.

"Spot?..." Serena looked a bit confused, and the technician nodded, and pointed over to the spider's abdomen, as Serena noticed, it's white carapace was decorated with a blue polka dot pattern, which made her no less perplexed.

Don't worry." The technician laughed, before saying another word of power and creating a little white sign to hover over the desk. 'Back in 10, please direct all inquiries to Spot the Magnificent Spider.' A sardonic look came on Serena's face. Lisa was still trying to ignore it. "He doesn't bite... Unless you're a hacker - he bites them pretty damn hard."

"Funny." Lisa said, and fidgeted with her hair a bit, staring into the skylight. "Anyways, lets' go, I think we're behind schedule." Serena knew for a fact they weren't, and couldn't resist cracking a small grin.

Max extended a hand, and the frosted blue glass sliding door disappeared, and he took them through, into the restricted, working areas of WalderSoft's server, leading the girls into an impressive scene. A massive, atrium-like workshop, white marble walls so high Serena had to crane her neck to see the ceiling, platforms and isolated chambers floating in the air, and the avatars of programmers and designers flying to and fro, hard at work, and the three of them could see a flurry of assets and routines, the virtual pieces of video games being tested.

The first thing their eyes were drawn to was a massive dragon with red scales, spitting fire at a target dummy, QA testers measuring its performance. There were also designers crafting less flashy things, working computer code like clay, sculpting it and carving details with fine, glowing tools. They were making and adjusting a motley of monsters: Skeletons with rusty equipment, lizard-men with purple chain mail, rats, of usual and unusual size, rock-like trolls with massive tusks, wolves, giant bats, and other, stranger things. Some were hooked up to intricate programming apparatuses, being injected with life as the coders programmed their artificial intelligence, telling them how to walk, search for foes, attack, react, run, fight, even work as a team; everything they'd need to do in order to engage the players they'd be fighting.

"It's amazing..." Serena found herself saying, as she and Lisa were led through the massive workshop. "I've... I mean, I used to be a computer tech, and I've never see anything like it."

"Well, video games are probably a different kettle of fish than you're used to." Max replied. "We've had a few setbacks, but, things are going pretty well - Don't spread any rumours now." He cracked a wily grin. "But from what the coders tell me, we might actually be able to ship it ahead of schedule!"

"Ahead of schedule?..." Lisa poked her head out, and raised a virtual eyebrow. "I hope I'm not touching a nerve by asking, but, hasn't... Losing Jonas been a blow?"

"No..." Max shook his head, but didn't pause. "Well, it did. Everyone's sad to lose him, and I don't think the game will have the same touch as it would have if he'd been able to see it to the finish, but-" He began to sound strangely... Inspired, almost, and both girls were very attentive. "He's gone, but the legend lives on. The philosophy he put into the studio is still here, and everyone's more determined than ever now to make R.H.O. the best game that it can be." He took a deep breath. "We all liked him. He was a mentor to all of us; we all want to make him proud." Serena felt an uncomfortable feeling stir in her virtual chest; a bit like heartburn.

"I'd heard Jonas was kind of essential to this company, though." Serena added, trying to focus on something else. "A once-in-a-generation prodigy."

"Yeah, he was..." Max stopped, right at the base of a large, grand glass staircase close to the centre of the room, that led up to a set of doors, floating in the air. "Wait, you're not with the papers, are you?"

"No, this is just for our investigation." Lisa responded, writing it down in her digitized notepad, to Serena's bemusement. "Please continue."

"Well, like I was saying..." Max adjusted his virtual hat. "We wouldn't be here if not for Jonas, but I think the guys can finish his vision. We're done with the complicated engine and network code and structure, all that's left is to finish the game, test it for bugs, and ship it."

"So, he wasn't really this keystone that kept you guys from finishing the game." Serena replied, very interested.

"If we'd lost him at the start of the project, yeah, we'd probably have to scrap it." Max continued, shrugging his shoulders. "But there's a lot of talented people here - he'd helped train a lot of them. I'm not on the design team, but, I think I can say with confidence." Max puffed his chest up, and, under the shadow, gave the impression he was smiling boldly. "We'll be able to make him proud. Even with all the weird problems with our server."

"You're having server problems?" Serena asked, as the three of them began their ascension up the flight of stairs.

"Oh, like you wouldn't believe." Max continued, and Serena felt the odd feeling stir in her chest again. "Just look around! It's a mess in here!" They both did, looking down, at the workshop below them, designers and artists scrambling every direction, workstations and apparatuses and bits of assets scrambled all over; from up here, it looked like a hectic rummage sale.

"We had to kludge together this thought-interface environment in a rush job. I still don't really know my way around this one." He admitted, with a bit of embarrassment. " Usually, we work off this big mainframe Jonas kept at his place." Serena and Lisa exchanged a troubled look, the vampire feeling something stir uncomfortably within her avatar. "But, around the time Jonas left us, the protection program went haywire and we haven't been able to use it. The big cheese says they're getting it fixed, but..." Serena got the impression he rolled his eyes behind the cover of shadow. "Don't leak this, but it's likely they're gonna reset the whole thing and we'll lose a lot of data, but that's the way it is..." An awkward, uneasy laugh left his concealed mouth. "Oh, please don't tell Mrs. Blackwell I've been talking about this stuff with you guys - we JUST had a long, boring presentation on Operational Security."

"We won't." Serena replied, trying to suppress the odd stirring in her digital form. "You're helping us help you, so, don't worry about it."

At the top of the stairs, behind another set of glass double doors that faded out when Max placed his hand on them again, the technician led them into what a sign called the 'Executive offices.' In Euclidean space, there was nothing ahead of them but a long fall, but The Matrix need not conform to convention, and the three of them stepped into a long, tube-shaped corridor with blue walls, and icy, white tile floor beneath their shoes.

"Yeah, I think it's through here." Max said, and began leading them through what Serena could only describe as a digital hamster maze, taking twisting turns and occasionally stopping at junctions to remember the path, the corridors sometimes bending and twisting, yet, gravity still went 'down' and their feet still hit to the tile as normal and it made Serena feel a tiny bit vertiginous. Soon enough, Max directed them to a hall he'd insisted was 'the place.' Third door on the left, he'd said. Or, maybe the right... Serena gave him a funny look, and he'd just laughed, and advised her to "Read off all the labels, and call the help desk if you need anything else."

With a command, Max disappeared in a puff of blue smoke and left the girls to their own devices, and with a groan, Serena did as instructed, scanning her virtual eyes over the whole hall, over each white digitized door, curved to match the shape of the hall, and, eventually, she found a gold placard on one of them that read, 'Evelyn Blackwell. Principal Private Secretary to the Studio Director." Fourth door on the right.

On instinct, Serena knocked, and only remembered the peculiarity of this realm's doors when the curved, white surface faded out and revealed the virtual office infront of them. It was large and hemispherical, with an very detailed, blue plasticity desk - a bit like the one Max had, but larger. Two large, white marble columns flanked it, and the desk was surrounded by an array of panels, hovering in the air, a non-stop flow of information like Lisa had in her own private server. "Ah." A cold, slightly detached voice came from behind the panels, before they faded out entirely, revealing, at the back of the office, against the flat wall, a massive, glass window, with a breathtaking view of the seaside. Hot, pale sand, giving way to a vast, rolling expanse of blue, all the way to the horizon, under a clear, rich blue summer's sky. "Ms. Ramneau and Ms. Klauetzer. Hollace's people." Ms. Blackwell said, behind her desk, and Serena took her gaze off the beach, and onto her. "Do come in."

"That's us..." Serena replied, forcing down nerves and entering the Principal Private Secretary's office, trying to not be distracted by the ocean view. It was breathtaking - Saint Petersburg was a coastal city, but it had nothing like this. "Thank you for your time."

"It's no issue." Evelyn curtly replied - though, from her tone, Serena got the opposite impression. Her avatar had an uptight and proper look to her, dressed in a sharp, reddish black suit jacket, a red tie, and a long, black skirt that went to her ankles. Black hair framed her face, a different hairstyle than the photo; it was styled into a serious-looking bob, and her eyes were lidded - tired, or just irritated, Serena couldn't tell. Overall, she struck Serena as a bit of a workaholic. "Do sit down." She said, stepping out from behind her desk and gesturing over to Serena's right, where a trio of blue, plush armchairs and a black coffee table appeared, with a puff of smoke.

The three of them took their seats, Serena looking very relieved - and suddenly a bit uneasy, as that harsh, heartburn like feeling began to writhe inside of her avatar again. Evelyn raised an eyebrow, and Serena just laughed it off. "I was told," Evelyn finally said. "You wanted to ask me about our late Studio Director, Jonas." She had an odd look in her green eyes. She looked... Distant. Melancholer, but there was something else to it. Something Serena couldn't quite put her tongue on.

"Yeah." Lisa replied, crossing her legs and making herself comfortable in the plush, virtual seat, word processor and pen in hand. "We've been looking into the murder, and we're hoping you could shed some light on it."

Mrs. Blackwell shot her a heavy-lidded stare. "I was told." She sighed. "The chairman filled me in already. I don't agree with him a lot, but I have to repeat something he doubtlessly told you: Don't you think this is work for the police?"

"If the police could actually solve this killing," A disappointed look came on Serena's face "I don't think we'd be here. It's been almost two months, after all."

"That's a fair point." Evelyn replied, her tone a touch less sharp, though she still gave Serena a wry look. "Although, then I'd have to ask how you can do a better job than the Mounties?"

"Well..." Serena found herself looking away, through the virtual window, out to the beach, momentarily watching the waves crash against the sand. "Why don't we just say we've got an edge, and leave it at that?"

The cold, composed expression melted from Evelyn's face, unable to suppress a sarcastic laugh, to Serena's chagrin - and the chagrin of the feeling, stirring in her, and she took a breath, trying to focus, avoid flinching, mentally saying, 'not now!' "Well, I've already pencilled it in." Evelyn added, amusement barely concealed with a veneer of professionalism. "Ask away."

"Well, first I want to ask," Lisa said, spinning the pen in her virtual hands. "Did Jonas have any enemies? Anyone who would probably have been better off without him."

Evelyn laughed at that. "The police inspector opened with the same question when he spoke with me - Yes, they questioned me, don't look surprised. I'll give you the same answer: Yes. He did. Hundreds."

Both girls eyes went wide. "Hundreds?!" Serena exclaimed, nearly leaping out of the seat in sheer force of disbelief.

Evelyn nodded. "He was a video game designer, after all. The industry's very cutthroat - especially when massively multiplayer titles are concerned. There's a lot of games, and only so many players. Since WalderSoft is a market leader, and Ruby Heart Online is about to make a splash, we're a big target."

Serena raised an eyebrow. "Big enough to murder over?"

"I don't think so, normally." Evelyn put a finger to her chin. "But Jonas wasn't a normal designer. He was an artist. A real auteur. With a million bright ideas, and an ever-flowing font of inspiration." She began to speak almost a bit reverentially. "The sort of person who can talk for hours, even about the most technical things, and completely drag you into his world, with all of his love and passion for his work..." Her cold expression melted off completely, with a warm smile on her lips, and fondness in her eyes.

"But I'm getting a bit off track." She quickly cleared her throat and composed herself when she noticed Serena staring. "Point is, he was very dedicated to his work, very vocal, and, if you'll forgive me talking ill of the dead," She dared a small, guilty smile. "Vain... He inspired his peers, but had a bad tendency to say things that turned rivals into bitter enemies."

"Enough to kill?" Lisa asked, looking up from her notebook, even as she didn't stop her pen.

"I can't, with confidence, name anyone specifically," Evelyn replied, adjusting her posture in the seat. "But I wouldn't put it past someone to have Jonas killed over a grudge. Video games do get personal, after all."

"I know you said you couldn't name anyone specifically," Lisa sat back in the chair, and gestured with her pen. "But we just want to cover all our bases - can you give us a list of his enemies?"

"A comprehensive list?" Evelyn looked shocked. "Finding everyone Jonas ever mortally offended would take all day."

"We've got the time." Lisa responded, Evelyn took a deep breath,

"Well, I don't." She dryly responded. "But, if you want the highlights..." She cleared her throat, and started naming names - and motives, Lisa writing down each one in turn, and Serena staring back towards the beach, a sardonic look on her face. Now, she felt quite bad for him - she thought her situation was bad, having only one mortal enemy. It'd taken ten minutes, and Evelyn needed to summon her own note-taking programs (and Serena saw a strange glint in Lisa's eye; kindred spirits, she supposed.), but, eventually, they'd gotten every last name down of the several hundred people most likely to kill Jonas over an insult. He made enemies the way most people made acquaintances, Serena mused.

"This is gonna take a while to get through." Lisa said, with a deep sigh, flipping through the pages of her notebook, and Serena peered over, a pit forming in her stomach has she saw that the list was ten pages long.

"I believe the Mounties had the same concern." Evelyn replied, "Besides," Sarcasm bled in a bit through her cold demeanour. "I thought you said you had the time."

"Why don't we worry about that later." Serena cut in. "What about within the company?" She asked. "I mean, all the guys you listed are Jonas' corporate and artistic rivals, aren't they?"

Evelyn paused to think. "By and large, yes." She replied. "In the company?... Well, Jonas butted heads with the Chief Financial Officer and HR director a lot, but, at the end of the day he outranked them, so he only ever gave in when practicality demanded. He ran a tight ship."

"He outranked them?" Serena asked.

"Officially, Jonas was the C.E.O." Evelyn explained, (and now Serena remembered what the news article had called him, with some embarrassment.) "Although I performed most of his 'executive officer' duties." She sounded rather proud, though, it turned more melancholer and dry as she added. "Now that he's gone, even if Hollace technically has it as his title, I am the Chief Executive Officer in all but name. Unfortunately, I can't replicate his spark... but Enough of that." She shook her head. "Some of the C-suite and the shareholders didn't like his attitude too much, but he got results. His men loved him. I admired him. I can't see anyone in the company who's better off now that he's gone."

An uncomfortable pause hung in the air. Serena adjusted her tie, staring out to the ocean, a blank look on her face. She'd gotten it out before, but it felt wrong to bring it up again, but, nevertheless. "What about Hollace?" She asked, and Evelyn's composure broke again, and she flinched.

"Are you asking if he would have his brother killed?" Her tone was cold. Serena nodded, and Evelyn looked away, took a deep breath, and sighed. "I feel bad for the family." She said. "I don't want to get personal, but..." Her eyes narrowed, and her tone turned more bitter. "Oh, nevermind. He ought to have been in that car instead of Jonas." She gave a scornful laugh. "Tell him if you want. He knows I dislike him. He doesn't have the pull to fire me."

Serena and Lisa just both looked shocked. Evelyn stared at them for a few moments, frowning, adjusting her necktie, before she cleared her throat, and continued. "I'm sorry. I'm being unprofessional, here. I'm a family friend of the Schwarzwalders. Jonas was brilliant, but he's the black sheep of the family. Hollace is more like rest of them. He's calculating, and always has profit on the mind." She sighed, and shook her head. "The family's seen enough tragedy already. Jonas' wife, Maria, died when poor Anabel was young. Now, this. It was immature of me to say, I'm sorry, but the world lost a visionary, and I'm still personally shaken up by it."

Serena raised an eyebrow. "So, you and Hollace?"

"Jonas and his brother argued." Evelyn explained. "A lot. Bitterly. I took Jonas' side, so, Hollace hated me for it." She crossed her legs. "The feeling is mutual. He always said I was 'poisoning' his brother against him! Like I, his friend, had no right to speak with him!" She took a deep breath. "I really don't mean to lose my temper like this, I'm sorry."

"Well, why don't we pivot to what they argued about?" Lisa asked, and Evelyn leaned back in the chair, shook her head, and sighed.

"Just about anything under the sun." She replied. "Hollace was cold, pragmatic, and business-minded. Jonas burned with passion and artistry. They butted heads. Hollace was chairman of the board, but Jonas was the CEO - and he owned just as much stock as Hollace did. We're structured like a rather normal corporation - Hollace is the big cheese in theory, but Jonas had all the actual power. He was the one everyone in the company listened to, and it drove Hollace mad. He had the shareholders, but Jonas had everything that mattered."

"Mad enough to kill..." Serena took a deep breath, the stirring feeling in her chest making her pause again. "His own brother?"

Evelyn turned away from the girls, a distant look in her eyes. "Hard to say." She said. "Jonas was the talent - he's worse off for it, certainly... But..." She suddenly looked very focused, and alert. "Wait." She tapped her chin, and Serena and Lisa leaned in, intrigued. "I remembered something else."

"What was it?!" Lisa was, by now, on the edge of her seat, sparks in her eyes, pen at the ready.

"A few weeks before Jonas' murder," Evelyn took a deep breath. "Jonas and Hollace had a very vicious argument. I don't know what it was about - I couldn't make out what they were saying, but I could hear them yelling through the walls of our office... The physical office, I mean."

"And..." Serena just looked confused. "Is that supposed to make him a suspect?"

"I'm not sure." Evelyn replied, cold demeanour creeping back in. "But, 'load all your bases' you said. That's a little detail I heard. I don't know if their argument could motivate fratricide, but it happened."

"What about for the insurance money?" Lisa asked, and Evelyn looked unconvinced.

"What about it?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Yes, Jonas had policies on himself and his daughter, but the family trust was the beneficiary." Serena and Lisa exchanged a pair of sharp, suspicious glances. "Even if someone in the family wanted him dead, the trust is structured in a way that it'd be impossible for them to get the money." She took a deep breath. "Anything else?" Evelyn asked, her tone turning cold, and reproachful.

"Well, what about you?" Lisa asked, flashing a naughty grin, as Serena's eyes went wide, and Evelyn shot her a heavy-lidded stare. "Don't be offended, Ma'am." She twirled the pen in hand. "No base unturned, and all."

"So you're asking if I murdered my boss." Evelyn's tone was dry, and her expression irritated, but her expression looked wistful, almost... Sad. "Someone I idolized. A dear friend."

"Why don't you just tell us a bit about you and him?..." Lisa added, already hard at work writing the details at first. Evelyn paused, but then, took a deep breath, and turned towards Lisa, her expression deadly serious.

"What can I say? I admired Jonas as an artist and a colleague. I'd always wanted to be an artist, but I never really had the chops. He had vision and the means to realize it, and I always loved to support him." She sighed, her tone distant and wistful. "If you want to explore what motivation I could have had to end his life, look around." She gestured at her virtual office. "I haven't meaningfully advanced in station, and my direct superior hates my guts. I haven't profited from his death, and, personally I am less for his passing. I think everyone here feels the same way." Evelyn cleared her throat. "And if you want proof I my hands were personally uninvolved, security records confirm I was working late the day he was murdered."

"You don't have to worry about that last point." Lisa added. "We have reason to believe Jonas' murderers were a band of hired killers - we're looking for the one who hired them." Lisa added, and Evelyn shot her a curious stare.

"Reasons like?"

"Yesterday, we spoke with Yuri, Jonas' driver." Serena said. "From how he described the attack, the killers were a group of professionals." Then there was an awkward pause, and her expression turned heavy-lidded. "And last night a band of gunmen stormed the hotel we were staying at to try and kill us."

A look of shock came onto Evelyn's face. "Oh, dear." She sounded genuinely concerned - which turned a bit sarcastic as she added "I'm glad to see they're not that good, evidently."

"Thank you." Serena sarcastically responded, rolling her eyes.

"But..." Evelyn sat upright, wearing a curious expression, her fingers interlocked. "What makes you think the killers who went after you, and the ones who murdered Jonas are connected? This city's lousy with gangsters and crooked mercs." She asked, and Serena felt a bit awkward. " And..." She raised an eyebrow. "Did Mr. Sazonov see any of the gunmen himself? Did he see one, or more than one?"

"He didn't really identify anyone in particular." Serena admitted, with an embarrassed sigh. "Just the gun firing from a window overhead."

"We're still not sure if they're connected." Lisa picked up her friend's slack a bit, a small grin coming onto her face. "But, like I said, no stone left uncovered."

Evelyn shot her a dry look. "I think you're starting to mince your metaphors, Ms. Klauetzer, and Lisa looked a bit embarrassed.

"Well, regardless." Serena cleared her throat. "I'm sure you agree - if a band of killers were after you, you'd want to know who's behind them."

"Fair point." Evelyn said, and began to lean forward. I do have one more question for you, though." Serena leaned back in the seat, her expression curious - and, when Evelyn said it, nervous. "Why are you looking into this murder?" She asked, tone growing a bit suspicious - and almost reproachful. "You're not with the police, and you're not a family friend, either. Hollace hired you, but he let it slip to me that he didn't hire you for this. What are you, exactly?"

"Well..." Serena coughed into her digital hand, looking away for a moment. "We're a bit like private detectives."

"Private detectives, or..." Evelyn did little finger quotes "'Private detectives.'" Her tone turned very reproachful, and she locked her fingers, and lidded her eyes. "Hollace hired you to do something else for him, but you've pivoted to this."

"To tell the truth..." An awkward smile crossed Serena's face. "Mission creep." She explained. "We'd started doing something else for Hollace, but, the circumstances changed. She flinched, the writhing, heartburn-like feeling starting up again. "Now we're looking into Jonas' murder."

"How did it change?" Evelyn asked, and Serena turned to her friend, the both of them looking very hesitant.

"Should we tell her?" Serena whispered.

"I don't know." Lisa replied, her tone quiet as the clicking of a church computer's mouse. "It couldn't exactly hurt to tell her, but..."

"She doesn't really 'need to know', does she?" Serena whispered back. "Especially if there's a slim chance she might be a suspect."

"What don't I need to know." Evelyn said, audibly displeased, and both girls recoiled in their seats as she stood up, and approached them. "My hearing's better than most people think. There's something very extraordinary about you, Ms. Ramneau." She said, leaning over Serena, who took a deep breath. "You're looking into this murder for odd reasons, and you've been fidgeting and flinching a lot." Her expression turned much more embarrassed. "Especially when I've brought up Hollace... Or Anabel."

At the mention of the ghost's name, Serena found herself nearly falling from the armchair, the writhing in her program feeling like snakes coiling in her insides, and Evelyn leaned in further, Serena grasping the chair, hanging on for dear life. "I've told you everything I know - now it's your turn. What ARE you hiding, Ms. Ramneau?"

Serena said nothing. Her tongue felt slack in her mouth and her mind blanked out, torn between possibilities. Tell her, or not? The writhing heartburn got worse inside her. She felt conflicted - Evelyn leering over her wasn't helping. Serena tried to open her mouth - but Anabel answered for her. With a sound like glass in a woodchipper, the ghost tore herself from Serena's virtual chest like an alien parasite, head and shoulders emerging and long, blonde hair spilling out over Serena's jacket. Serena's eyes went wide, and Evelyn's composure broke, and she screamed, and recoiled back, but... As she got a better look at it, she began to look more intrigued.

"She's hiding me." Anabel introduced herself, stepping out of Serena's avatar fully, torso, arms, and long, flowing blue dress and flowing blonde hair escaping, fancy blue boots planted on the white tiles below.

"Did you have to come out like that?!" Serena found herself exclaiming, a very uncomfortable look on the vampire's face.

Anabel just slowly looked over her shoulder, and Serena felt a bit faint - and irritated - as she caught the wily smile on the ghost's face. "Yes." She flatly responded, and Serena groaned.

"I..." Evelyn needed to take a few seconds to fully take it in. "What... How did you do that?" She asked - sounding, actually, almost impressed.

"She's... A passenger on my cyberdeck." Serena explained, slightly annoyed. "I smuggled her in here in my avatar - hope you don't mind."

"And I decided to stay there, until I wanted to talk to you." Anabel finished, turning towards Evelyn, the smile fading from the ghost's face, her expression more serious. "I hired these two 'detectives' to look into my father's murder." She explained, and Serena and Lisa exchanged a pair of sardonic glances. THAT was what they were going with?...

"You..." Evelyn began to stroke her chin, fully composed, and very... Curious. "Anabel... No. It's not you." She suddenly turned viciously angry, and Evelyn's turned more serious. "Not the one I'm used to. The copy."

The wrong word. Even in a digital realm that wasn't hers, piggybacking on Serena's cyberdeck, Anabel was far from a pushover, and her temper flared out and, with an expression of white-hot rage, reached out behind Evelyn and a blast of force erupted from her hand, sending the desk careening back and flying right into the window, shattering it into a million shards of digitized glass that fell to the tile and into the sand, the desk flying into the ocean outside, with a loud splash, and a spray of seafoam. Serena found herself standing up, unsure what to do, about to put a hand on her shoulder - but found herself stopping halfway. Evelyn had recoiled, her eyes had gone wide, but, her cold, collected demeanour slowly returned to her face, as Anabel calmed - a bit - going from violently mad, to merely mad.

"I am not a copy." A cool, crisp ocean breeze came through the office, bringing with it the smell of digitized salt.

"Well, What are you, then?" Evelyn asked, oddly curious - and nervous. She still looked composed, but still took a step back. "You've certainly caused us a lot of trouble at the office."

"I'm myself." Anabel responded. A non-answer, and everyone in the room knew it.

"You're certainly odd." Evelyn replied, her tone turning more... Inquisitive. "I know you. We've spoken. Briefly. Jonas made you to protect his secrets, and you've done exactly that. You've let no one onto his mainframe since he died. You've killed a few people who've tried."

"I'm not a defenceless little girl."

"Evidently." Evelyn flashed a wry smile. "And now you're looking for the man who murdered your creator-"

"FATHER!" Anabel yelled, erupting again into white-hot rage, her hair and dress whipping in a sudden gust of wind, and Serena and Lisa instinctively took defensive positions behind their chairs. Evelyn, meanwhile, stood there, saying nothing, wearing a wistful expression.

"A regular Geppetto, he was." A dry, sardonic smile came to Evelyn's face. "Yes. Your father. I suppose that's what comes naturally to say. But..." She took a deep breath. "Why are you so protective of his secrets?"

"Because they're my secrets now." Anabel crossed her arms, and shot Evelyn a glare. "The company's mine, as my birthright. I intend to press that, and I'm not just gonna let anyone steal it out from under me."

"I do hope we're not thinking of the same person." Evelyn replied.

"I think you are..." Serena added, and Anabel just groaned.

"Yes, we are." Anabel said. "Hollace has been trying to chase me out of my mainframe for the last few weeks." She gestured back over to Serena and Lisa - who was still feverishly taking notes - nervously coming out from behind their chairs. "These two were the latest hackers he's hired. I've convinced them to help me, instead."

"Ah..." There was a short pause, and Evelyn let out a small snicker. "I didn't expect you to be so persuasive, Anabel. I don't blame you two for taking up her task, though." She turned back over to the two Bathrette girls. "In fact, I think it's for the better. I wouldn't want harm to come to one of Jonas' creations."

"Daughter."

"You're angry." Evelyn stepped forward, and, to everyone's shock - most of all, Anabel's - put a hand on the ghost's shoulder, and, eyes wide, she'd locked up. "It's something I don't see from you, but I understand. Your father, and your... Template."

Anabel flinched. Then glowered. "Don't talk about her."

"Is it something you don't like to bring up?"

"It's the past." Another non-answer. "Things change."

"Have you changed?" Evelyn asked. "Or, what have you changed from? I've never been privy to it, but, I've always wanted to know - How much of her memories do you have?"

Anabel's eyes flashed wide, an alarmed, agitated expression coming to her face, and Serena felt shocked - and uncomfortable. "W-what?..."

"Don't get mad, Anabel." Evelyn rubbed her shoulder a bit, with tender affection. "But I'm not going to pull punches. Jonas made you as a digitized copy of his daughter." She explained, and Anabel looked halfway between indignant and frightened. "But, I feel you and... Her have diverged. You're certainly much more assertive than the girl I remember."

"I..." Anabel closed her eyes, hands tightening into fists. "I remember a lot. I remember going to the beach with everyone for that company picnic. I remember my tenth birthday. I remember my first day of middle school..." She slowly opened her eyes, gaze shifting to the floor. "Some of it's indistinct. Some of it's vivid. It feels like I'm there, even though..." She shuddered. "I know... I know none of it happened to me... But... But!-"

Anabel clammed up and forced Evelyn's hand from her shoulder and sprinted past the secretary, around her armchair, the columns, and out the back door, onto the virtual beachfront - not even touching it and just phasing through the wall. An eerie silence fell over the office, as Serena's gaze went from the beach, where Anabel had planted herself down, watching the waves, back over towards Evelyn, feeling a bit on edge. Relieved it didn't turn ugly, but... She shot Evelyn a harsh look. "What did you do that for?" She asked. She felt almost repulsed.

"For, as in?..."

"I think she means, why'd you go and make Anabel mad?" Lisa piped in. Evelyn took a deep breath, and sat back down in her chair, her demeanour turning cold.

"I had to ask." She said. "Like I said, her mother died when she was young, and often, I'd had to look after her... Whatever 'her' means." Evelyn sighed, and idly flicked a lock of black hair. "For her own sake. It's something she needs to think about."

That just made Lisa and Serena look confused. "Huh?"

"She's angry." Evelyn clarified. "And overly focused on her goal. It's something I'm not familiar with. It's different from the... What should I call her? Anabel, the girl? Regardless." Evelyn shook her head. "I don't want to see her like that. We'd gotten along quite pleasantly, in the past."

"With the one out there." Serena gestured to the beach. "Or,-?"

"I suppose, she is right in one way - the distinction is a moot point, now." Evelyn cut her off. "But do, if you can, help her out, Serena." She said. "She needs to use her head." The atmosphere went still, another salty zephyr blowing in from the destroyed window, and Serena peered out into the digital beach, a heavy-lidded look in her eyes.

"She might need time to cool off." Evelyn said, but Serena, for reasons she couldn't pin down, found herself ignoring the secretary and walked right past her, out the same door Anabel had phased through, banishing it with a gesture and stepping out of the office, onto the hot sand, into the cool spray of the sea wind, and under the clear blue sky, with miles and miles of ocean before her.

"Go away, Serena." Anabel said, sitting with her back to the office, legs up in her chest, arms wrapped around herself, gazing out into the ocean blue, and, Serena paused in the hot sand, for a moment, and, after a pause, began to titter a bit, to Anabel's chagrin, turning her head over with an irritated, broody look. "Don't laugh! I'm serious!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Serena took a deep breath of the salty breeze, composing herself as she sat down beside her. "I've just done that when I was your age." Anabel said nothing, and just turned to watch the waves. "I just wanna talk."

"Too bad: I don't." Anabel replied, putting a small grin on Serena's face.

"I just wanna see how you're feeling." She took a deep breath.

"Why do YOU care?" She snapped, and Serena took a deep breath, salt tickling her nose, and turned towards the sea.

"I feel bad."

"I don't want your pity. She didn't get to me."

"She wasn't trying to." Serena responded, turning a bit more serious. "Evelyn... Don't take it the wrong way - she said all that because she cares about you. I don't wanna piss you off, but I think she had a bit of a point."

Anabel turned away from the horizon to shoot her an irritated stare. "About what?"

"Well, you're mad." Serena shrugged her shoulders. "Evelyn was saying she thinks you're too angry and wound up to think things through."

"I don't need to."

"Are you sure?" Serena asked, turning away from the horizon as well to look at Anabel - who was less annoyed, and more bitter, and melancholer. "You're focused on finding out who killed your dad, but what are you gonna do after that? You said the company's yours, but..." Serena shrugged her shoulders. "What are you going to do with it? How are you going to MAKE it yours, to begin with? Anabel, think about it. You're here, on the Matrix."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause, and Serena turned back to the ocean, watching the waves flow in, feeling the spray on her face, watching the waves flow in, and out, over the wet sand, receding, and returning, like a cosmic pendulum. "I don't know." Anabel admitted, an irritated, sarcastic, ashamed smile coming to her face. "I'll..." She groaned. "I'll give it some thought..." She shot Serena an intense look. "But we're still finding the killers." Anabel snapped, and Serena looked a bit awkward. "No ifs or buts."

"I didn't have any planned." Serena joked.

The three of them ended up staying in Mrs. Blackwell's digital office for a while. Anabel just ended up staring out at the virtual ocean, gathering her thoughts, and Serena couldn't quite bring herself to try and pull her back down to Earth. Eventually, though, an idea seemed to come over her, and Anabel stood up, turned away from the ocean, and told Serena, "Lets' get to work. I saw the list, too."

The two of them came back in, finding Lisa and Evelyn sitting back down, discussing some of the suspects, trying to work out who to go at first. Anabel immediately made for the nearest corner to sulk and watch the two of them, while Serena just sat in the doorway, looked around, and sighed, and went back out onto the beach, trying to figure out where Evelyn's desk had landed.

With a quick and dirty telekinetic hack, Serena had managed to fish it out of the sea, back through the window, and in the spot it'd been when they walked in; bone dry, the desk lacking the programming to become wet. As for the window, Serena put a hand to the empty frame and began to speak in tongues, working in programming code as the flurry of broken glass jumped up from the tile and out of the sand and flowed back into the window frame, flowing together like glass in a kiln, filling the frame like honey, and, with a command, it solidified, and separated the office from the beach once more, the scent of salt, unfortunately, no longer tickling Serena's nose.

"Thank you." Evelyn said, looking over her shoulder and Serena let out an awkward laugh awkwardly, and Anabel's blue eyes shifted down towards the tile, an... Odd look on her face. Somewhere between scornful, and guilty. "So, what will you do, next?" She asked.

"I'm not sure." Serena admitted, as she came in, over Lisa's shoulder, for once. "Have you got down anyone who sticks out in your head?"

Lisa sighed, and played with a lock of hair. "No, not really." She said. "It looks like we might just have to do things the hard way. I want to talk with Mr. Wesel, the CFO, but..." She groaned, and rolled her eyes. "HE's busy too, so, we'll have to pencil him in tomorrow."

"I guess I'll go and see if my usual contacts know anything, then." Serena cracked a wily smile, and Lisa just leaned back in the seat and shot her a dry look, as Evelyn raised an eyebrow.

"She means she's going to go chasing rumours on Strangeworld." Lisa explained, and Serena's expression turned coy and guilty and drifted off, while Evelyn took a deep breath and flashed a sardonic smile. The site had a reputation. It wasn't the largest English-language matrix server on the web, but it was the most exclusive - and one of the most infamous. A den of hackers and malcontents... Sometimes, and a den of idiots at all other hours of the day. Still, Serena had found success with using it to chase down information in the past.

"Well, regardless." Evelyn reclined in her armchair. "Good luck, and do take care. With killers like that, they only need to be lucky, once." Serena and Lisa exchanged a set of awkward glances. "I'm afraid I don't have any good advice to give you; I've never done this myself, but, I do hope you find whoever killed Jonas, and," Her eyes drifted over to the corner of the officer where Anabel was lurking, arms crossed, and a distant expression on her face. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help you. I owe it to him."

"Will do." Anabel said, from the corner, and, with a touch of haste, made her way to the door, twirling around and turning to the girls, with an... Odd expression. "Lets' go." She said, and that was that. Lisa and Serena said their goodbyes and, again, Evelyn wished them luck once more, dismissed the armchairs and returned to her desk, Serena turned to place a hand on the door, and it faded out into the air, and her eyes went wide as she saw-

"Hey." The man infront of her cracked a smile, and waved a hand. The image was different. The avatar standing infront of her was wearing a rather sharp looking blue polo shirt and ironed, tan trousers. More preppy than she'd remembered. The only thing that was familiar was the short, neat, sandy-brown hair, but... Serena locked up, eyes panicked, but expression indignant.

Running on autopilot, she immediately sprung into action and bore down on him, a look of shock coming over his face as she tackled him to the ground and shouted out a word of power, trying to throw her off, but, stopping once he'd noticed the pulsing fireball in Serena's palm. An awkward look came in his eyes, but a cocky smile flashed on his face. "We really need to stop meeting like this, Serena." Phil said.

"WHAT are you doing here?!" Serena barked, her tone harsh and her mood souring, as Lisa and Anabel both peered out from the doorframe, Lisa mildly amused, Anabel just distant - but confused.

"I could ask the same question." Evelyn piped up, poking her head through the doorframe. "Who is this, and why are you about to kill him?!"

"Its..." Serena groaned. "A long story."

"The short version is, I'm a friend of hers'." Phil cracked a wiry smile, and Serena frowned. "Anyways, Serena, friend-to-friend, I think you ought to put that program away."

Serena cocked her head. "Why?" She asked, with an annoyed look.

"Two reasons." Phil replied. "One: I think you'll like what I've got to say. Two: We're making a scene in the secure area of a company's server." He flashed an impish grin, as Serena's expression went from annoyed to a bit agitated. "Get the picture?... Again?"

Phil looked off to the right, and Serena turned as well, locking up as she saw, crawling out from nowhere in particular, Four white ICE programs: A wasp, a scorpion, a mantis, and a familiar polka-dotted spider, blue eyes all focused on her, and, with a nervous laugh, she quickly dismissed the attack program, fireball vanishing from her hands, and, as if saying, 'Yeah, thought so.' The four guardian programs faded right back into the walls, and, with a groan Serena slowly began to pull herself off him.

"So, what do you want, Phil?" Serena crossed her arms, as he pulled himself up from the floor, laughing a bit."

"Same thing you do." He flashed a dry grin. "Since we last talked, I've done some digging on the lead from our mutual friend, Yuri..." An uncomfortable feeling crept in at the back of Serena's throat. "You'll want to hear about what I uncovered. It's about Jonas' killers."

"What did you find out?..." Serena said, a bit hasty, but then she took a deep breath to compose herself, and raised an eyebrow, correcting her question to, "Actually, why ARE you even here in the first place?

"I'd quite like to know this as well." Evelyn said, cold and reproachful, and Phil's smile turned guilty, and looked away. "I don't think this Mister..."

"Edinburgh." He introduced himself, extending a hand, that Evelyn looked down at, with a dry expression. "Don't wear it out, ma'am."

"It's a fake name." Lisa explained, and Evelyn just groaned.

"I think I'm smart enough to have realized that, dear." She said, and, realizing Phil wasn't going to pull away anytime soon, took his hand, and slowly shook it. "Now, I think we're all owed an explanation, Mr. Edinburgh."

"Well, the short answer is that, like Lisa and Serena here, I'm gathering intelligence." He said. "We're working the same case, so, that's why I'm trying to keep her 'in the know.'"

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. "On whose authorization?"

Without skipping a beat, Phil answered, "Sam Costello's," and Evelyn looked unconvinced.

"Oh, really?" She asked, her tone dry and sarcastic. "I'm going to have to have a long talk with him, then - and that's assuming he actually cleared you." Serena just stood there and wondered exactly who that was. Probably a tech, she mused - someone who was going to get a stern talking to.

"And don't worry, I've found everything I've came here for, anyways." Phil just laughed a bit, and Evelyn groaned, and had a look in her eyes like she knew this incident was going to turn into another safety briefing. "Why don't we get going, Serena?" He asked, a rather bold smile on his face, matched by a heavy-lidded - but attentive - look in Serena's eyes. "Lets' chat somewhere more comfortable." He said.

"More private, you mean." She added, and Phil let out a wily laugh.

"So, what exactly were you doing in there?" Serena asked, suspicion on her face and her tone. Phil laughed and relaxed in his seat and paused to mull over the question for a bit, clearing his virtual throat, the rumbling, chuffing sound of the train ringing in her ears.

"Well, there isn't a pretty way to spin this," He said, tugging at his collar, looking a bit awkward, while Serena took a quick look at the luxurious interior of the train car they were in. A virtual one. Phil had called it a private meeting room, and it ran off the secure server of a net cafe he usually patronized. They all sat in a single passenger car, with ornate, wood panelled walls and plush, olive carpet under their feet, in a lounge area, all relaxing in plush, white leather armchairs, with another fancy coffee table between them. "I was going through the restricted files in WalderSoft's server without proper authorization." Phil flashed a grin. "Or permission, or knowledge of the owners."

Serena's gaze turned heavy-lidded, and a reproachful, teasing smile crawled onto her mouth, while, outside, the golden light of the sunset peeled over the treeline outside their window, bathing the cabin in a brilliant, amber glow. "So, you hacked into their server?" She asked, sitting with her legs crossed. "Man of many talents, aren't you?" Her tone was dry and sarcastic, yet, still, Phil's expression turned guilty - and warm.

"That's the proper term, I suppose." He admitted. "I'm not much of a console cowboy - but I know my way around a terminal." Serena shot him a wry look. "I was digging through data to see if there's anything that'd connect the mercenaries to someone at WalderSoft. You know, accounting and security records - if there was any unaccounted spending, or something." He sighed, and shook his head. "No such luck, I'm afraid."

"Wait." Lisa said, looking up from her note-taking program, intrigued - and a bit worried. "Mercenaries?" Serena's eyes went wide, Anabel watched it all, silently, and Phil let out another laugh.

"Killers for hire." He replied, and Serena leaned over the table, a focused look on her face. "I have it on good authority a that particular group of them would be the missing link in our puzzle." His eyes lidded a bit, and Serena could see, a small glint in them.

"Well, what do you mean?" Serena asked. "Are you saying you've tracked down the gunmen who killed Jonas?"

"Not to toot my own horn," Phil flashed a bold smile. "But I AM an ace private eye." He said, and Serena sarcastically pretended to laugh. "First, though..." He said, and stretched out his palm, and, with a word of power, a data nexus popped into existence, a floating, two foot wide glassy sphere that Phil placed at the centre of the table. "I think there's something you should see. About Mrs. Blackwell."

"Well, what about her?" Anabel piped up, leaning forward in the chair, and Phil kept smiling.

"Just something you ought to know about her." He said. "If you're going to work with her."

"We haven't been 'working with her.'" Serena raised an eyebrow. "We just asked her some questions about the murder, and about any suspects."

"Did you ask her about herself?" Phil replied, a bit teasing, and Lisa just adjusted her glasses.

"Does government code leak memory?" Lisa asked, and Phil laughed.

"Well, I think this is something she didn't tell you." He reached into the data nexus, spoke the command word, and the display flickered to life, showing crisp, holographic security footage of a small, rectangular office - clearly somewhere in the real world. "So," He said. "You might want to take what she has to say with a grain of salt."

The focal point was an L-shaped desk, dominated by a large, flat-screen monitor. A cabinet off to one side, a potted plant in the corner and a few pictures, motivational posters, and a whiteboard on the wall. The Venetian blinds on the back window were drawn, blocking the view and isolating it from the world.

Serena raised an eyebrow as she leaned in, pointing at the woman sitting behind the desk, typing up something with a disinterested expression. "Is that Evelyn?" She asked. It was different from her avatar, obviously, but she'd recognized her, from the file photo Lisa had shown her, and Phil nodded, a naughty smile on his face.

In the business world there's a tendency to style your net avatar close to your real appearance. It was considered professional - you didn't show up to work in a mascot costume or dressed like a pirate, after all. (Most of the time) In the real world, Evelyn looked similar to her avatar - except her hair was longer, drifting down to her shoulders, and even in the camera footage, Serena could see bags under her eyes; the stigmata of too many sleepless nights. Though... The three girls stared into the globe for a while, watching Evelyn type something up, waiting for... Whatever it was Phil wanted to show them.

"Is this all there is?" Anabel finally broke the silence to ask, and Phil just shook his head, and reached into the sphere and uttered a word of power, and fast-forwarded the footage.

"What is this, anyways?" Lisa asked, her tone and expression a bit odd.

"Security footage from her office." Phil explained, taking his hand out, and the footage returned to normal speed, where, Evelyn had gotten up from her desk and was looking out, between the Venetian blinds, making a small gap with her fingers. "Older footage. Last July, from the date..."

Anabel's eyes suddenly went wide. "Is this!?-" She turned over towards Phil, shocked, and indignant, and he just smiled, and nodded.

"It is." He responded, putting a finger to his lips, making Serena and Lisa more confused - and agitated. "You recognize it - but lets' not ruin the surprise for your friends."

Anabel turned away, going silent. Serena and Lisa continued staring into the nexus, turning more intrigued as another figure appeared in the camera footage, approaching Evelyn's desk. A man with a sharp jawline, and golden, blond hair, wavy and wild, worn to his shoulders, reminding Serena a bit of a rock star. He was dressed rather casually; jeans and a dark belt, a wrinkled, white button-up dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a red and black striped necktie, the sole concession to professionalism.

"Who is he?" Serena asked, and Anabel's expression turned distant, as she gazed out of the train window, watching the trees go by.

"My father." She said, and both girls eyes went wide.

So this was Jonas Schwarzwalder... Serena mused, feeling it a bit uneasy to look at him. She'd, up to now, only known the man as a headstone. Evelyn turned away from the window, and Serena got the impression she looked pleasantly surprised to see him."

"It's getting pretty late." Evelyn said, audio quality a bit scratchy. "I was about to log off and go home." Serena, by now, noticed Anabel pointedly not looking at the footage, and found a pit forming in her digital stomach. His daughter... Of a sort, must be feeling worse... She raised an eyebrow. No, she mused. It felt like there was more to her sudden mood than that.

Jonas approached the window as well, and the two spoke idly, peering out the window blinds, into the city below. It'd started work-related, discussing progress on Ruby Heart Online, and the headway his team was making, but it soon drifted into corporate politics, and the mood sunk.

Jonas sat down on top of Evelyn's desk, and lamented splitting his attention - needing to be in two worlds as once. In this world, his world, he was the wonderworker. At the centre of his team. The central gear around which the whole clockwork spun as they created. When he was focused on the game, he felt so... Alive - and Serena reflexively tugged at her collar. In the other world, he was an outsider. He always had to wrangle - his word - the marketing and finance people, human resources, and the shareholders. He sounded both sad and venomous at that. He confessed, he felt they all got in the way. Like he'd succeeded in spite of them, not because of them. Especially, the one who epitomized it all - his brother. Serena gasped, and even Lisa - quickly getting it all down - momentarily paused in shock.

He confessed to despising his brother. It felt shameful, but Hollace had begun to embody everything he'd hated about corporate culture. Hollace was all business - and business was his only passion. He couldn't care less about video games - it was just a product. Jonas bitterly mused he'd have felt the same about cars, screws, food, magazines, firearms, socks, or anything else. It was all just lines on the balance sheet to him.

Oh, and how dear brother treated his priceless staff. Jonas viciously recounted how Hollace had called his designers and coders "A bunch of overpriced geeks," and it made Serena's skin crawl. Somehow, it felt personal. Jonas bitterly complained, his brother had that same attitude about people - they weren't people to him! They were entries in a database! They were 'salaries expense' - something you poured money in, and got products out, like... Machines! Oh, he always fought with his brother about that. Once, Jonas laughed, Hollace had suggested sacking most of the studio and replacing them with interns and outsourcers, and he'd nearly gone apoplectic with how hard he'd screamed at his brother.

But, what could he do? He was his brother. He owned as much of the corporation's stock as he did. He'd let Hollace be the chairman of the board so he could focus on the things that mattered, and here was - Jonas shook his head - fighting to protect his labour from those who would gut it, strip it down, and plunder it to enrich people who had nothing to do with their success. Quality, apparently, mattered less than earnings per share.

There was been a long pause, before Evelyn put a hand on his shoulder, and sat down beside him, on her desk, in a way Serena was finding... More intimate than the WalderSoft employee handbook would probably recommend. The feeling of awkwardness only intensified as Evelyn ran a finger through his wild, blond hair, and flashed a tender smile, and told Jonas it'd all be just fine. He'd gotten them results. The shareholders knew it. With his track record of success, and the pace they were making, even Hollace couldn't argue.

The mood in the train car intensified as Jonas put an arm around his secretary, and flashed a warm, wily smile, and Serena and Lisa were on the edge of their seats, as they leaned in, and Jonas said it felt like she was the only person who really, truly understood. His only ally... He leaned in towards her, the girls leaning in even further, eyes wide as he pressed up against Evelyn and passionately stole a kiss from her lips, her pretenses dissolving as she wrapped his arms around him, and Jonas met the gesture in kind, the two of them dissolving into passion as they fell down onto the surface of the desk, in a rash of ecstasy.

Serena just stared into the screen, a conflicted, but spellbound look on her face as she watched the two executives making out. Pens, holocards, framed photographs and other knick-knacks fell from Evelyn's desk as they felt eachother's bodies and eachother's tongues. Only around the time Jonas had his shirt already off, exposing his well-muscled back and finely sculpted abs, and was in the middle of unbuttoning Evelyn's vest and shirt, revealing her plush body, as the secretary began unhooking her brasserie, did Serena realize she was staring at him. Hard. Watching the rivulets of sweat run down his well-sculpted body-

Serena quickly pulled herself away, leaning back in her seat, a flushed, look on her virtual face, while, right beside her Lisa snapped back to reality right behind her and recoiled back similarly. The two girls looked at eachother, saw how hot and bothered they both looked, and wordlessly, promised to never bring this up again. Ever.

"It's..." Serena took a deep breath, adjusted her collar, and composed herself, trying to not think of Jonas' wavy hair and finely toned abs-! She shook her head. No! Focus... "Intimate." She said, clearing her throat. "What are you trying to show us?" Serena shot Phil a rough, heavy-lidded stare. "That Jonas and Evelyn were a thing? I don't think that's any of our business, and definitely none of yours."

"It's none of our business, obviously." Phil flashed a wiry smile, as, with another gesture and word of power, he turned the video feed off, returning the data nexus to its glassy, original state. "Strictly between them... Although..." He stroked his chin. "Mr. Blackwell would doubtlessly, want to know." Serena's eyes went wide, and Lisa almost shot out of her seat.

"She's having an affair?!" The spy asked, her expression intense, and - to Serena's slight perturbation - almost excited.

"They've been..." Anabel piped in, an uneasy, guilty, shameful look on her face as she stared blankly out the train car's window, into the golden horizon. "Doing that for a few years." She said.

"And you knew about it?" Lisa replied, still a bit perverse, though, her smile was beginning to was waver a bit at seeing Anabel's expression.

"I expect she would." Phil turned towards Anabel, who refused to make eye contact. "Am I right to assume you have a very liberal degree of access to WalderSoft's data?..."

"It's none of your damn business." Anabel responded, eyes tracking the trees as they passed by them. "I've... I've known for a while, but I... I didn't want to say anything."

"Why didn't you?" Serena asked, and Anabel closed her eyes, hands balled into fists, and a pained expression on her face.

"Because he didn't have my mom!" Anabel exploded, in a shower of grief and anger - directed inwards, Serena felt. "Evelyn told you. My mother died when I was young. There wasn't anyone to..." She took a deep breath. "Be that way for him." She said. "I wanted to tell them to stop. I didn't think he should have been doing that, but..." Serena felt a lead weight sink in her virtual stomach. Anabel sounded on the verge of tears. "He really loved her." She said. "And Evelyn loved him. In a way no one else could. Even if it was wrong, I... I didn't want to do that to my dad... When he needed it."

"Alright, then." Serena turned back to Phil, a suspicious look in her eyes. "Why show us Mrs. Blackwell's affair?" She crossed her arms. "Are you trying to say she's a suspect? That she killed her paramour to cover it up?"

"I really hope you're not." Anabel added, her tone turning choleric, briefly looking over to Phil to shoot him a white-hot glare, and he turned away, a nervous smile on his lips.

"Oh, nothing melodramatic, don't worry." Phil laughed again. "I Just thought - since you spoke with her, you'd be interested in the full story of her relationship with Jonas. Just so you take her words with a grain of salt.

"How did you even get this footage, anyways?" Lisa added, confused - and suspicious, and Phil's smile turned coy, as he sat upright in the chair.

"Well, I hacked into WalderSoft's server." He responded, matter of fact. "Their security's still pretty spotty and full of holes - likely because of a recent move." Anabel just pouted, and looked away. "And they were probably busy with you and Serena, anyways. "I was mostly checking accounting and security records - which was how I found that footage."

"I'd have thought you wouldn't have." Serena added. "Either of them would have gotten rid of the evidence."

"Or just cut the cameras before it happened." Lisa piped in.

"You'd think." Phil leaned in, an excited - and foreboding expression. "I thin it might've been blackmail material." All three of them - even Anabel - looked shocked. "It was in an encrypted directory, away from other security data, without a stated access level. Definitely unofficial."

"So, who's responsible for it?" Lisa asked, and Phil shrugged.

"No idea." He admitted. "Unfortunately for us, our mystery blackmailer wasn't dumb enough to put their name on it - but it looks like WalderSoft isn't exactly one big, happy family."

"I think Jonas made that pretty clear." Serena sardonically added. "So what are you going to do with this footage?" Her tone turned a touch confrontational. "You're not planning on blackmailing Evelyn, are you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it." Phil replied, as he reached into the data nexus, and spoke a new command, and pulled the video file out, in the form of a compact disk of reflective, orange metal, and, to the surprise of all parties, gave it to Anabel, with a smile. "I took the liberty of destroying the copy hosted on WalderSoft's server." He said. "I think Evelyn would appreciate that. Even if one party is... Deceased." Anabel shot him a glare, as she swiped up the disk. "This is still a family problem - so I leave it to you."

Wordlessly, Anabel looked at the disk, and, with a cold expression, green, eldritch fire erupted in her hand, Serena and Lisa recoiling back, and Phil watched, with a morose smile, as the data was consumed in a viridian conflagration, the disk turning black, then breaking apart in a million little fragments of ash, the data returning to the sea of information, lost forever.

"I want my father's legacy to have some dignity." Anabel said, turning away, and gazing out the window once again.

"I guess that solves that." Phil snapped his fingers, and leaned back. "Now, why don't we get to the main course? I've gone and spoken with all my usual sources, and I think I've found a good thread to pull on."

"What sort of sources?" Lisa asked, and Phil flashed a cocky smile.

"Informants, experts, old friends, weird internet forums." Serena groaned, and Phil let out a laugh. "The sort of sources you cultivate over a long career as as an ace private eye. Anyways..." He leaned back in his seat, and took a deep breath. "A little birdie told me that a fairly well-known - in underground circles - group of mercs who call themselves the Ecstasy Battalion have been making some waves."

Serena stared at him in bewildered disbelief. "Ecstasy Battalion?!" She asked. "That's a... Ridiculous name!"

"It's inaccurate, I suppose - only five people, and all pretty joyless. I wouldn't say that to their faces, though." He dryly replied. "They're not the sort you'd wanna mess with. Killers for hire. Dangerous types. There's soldiers of fortune, and then there's people like them."

"The sort to do just about anything for money?" Serena asked.

"No matter how morally questionable." Lisa added, looking concerned.

"Or illegal." Anabel flatly added, still gazing distantly out the window.

"Right on all three accounts." Phil responded, cracking a wry smile. "And I think you just described their latest job." All three girls looked alert. "Like I said, a little birdie told me the The Ecstasy Battalion recently finished a very... Lucrative mission, but have been pretty tight-lipped about it."

"Is that typical?" Serena raised an eyebrow, and Phil shook his head.

"Believe me - it's not." He replied. "Mercenaries brag. A lot. It's half vanity and half marketing - after all, you want the word out about your accomplishments, so the next Mr. Johnson or whoever comes along with a big problem goes to hire your guys, instead of someone elses'."

"It's like that with computer hackers, too..." Serena said, though, she looked a bit ashamed of it. "Mostly noobs, though." A sarcastic smile came to her face. "Veterans don't usually post things that get them arrested."

"So trust me when I say that," Phil continued, stroking his chin. "If the Ecstasy Battalion are keeping mum while everyone else is bragging about their latest score, THAT's suspicious. Really, it could have been anything shady, but, I can't seem to get a straight answer on WHERE they were on the day Jonas got shot."

"So you want us to look into these mercs?" Serena sighed, remembering Yuri's words, and, of course, last night. Professional killers. Not necessarily the ones that went after her, but... She groaned. Well, it didn't take psychic powers to make the connection.

"I don't 'want' you to do anything." Phil looked a bit more serious. "I'm sending this your way, since, if you're dead set on finding Jonas' killers." He spoke a command word, and another metallic compact disk appeared in his hands - this one blood red, and shimmered in the sunset glow. "Then you'll want to look into them." Phil placed the disk into the data nexus and spoke another word of power, and the image sprang to life, shimmering like water, before settling on a photograph that made Serena and Lisa scream out in shock, recoiling in their seats. Even Anabel, turning away from the window, looking stunned.

The file photo was labelled 'Corto - leader & heavy weapons.' First, last, and only, Phil said. The name was unfamiliar, but the face, tanned skin, heavyset jawline, small goatee, and the sheer atmosphere of menace and hatred, and pair of shades stood out in Serena's mind. She'd only seen a glimpse of it for a split second, but after that night in Clinton's B&B, Serena would recognize it anywhere.

Phil looked on the scene he'd created with an obvious, almost obnoxious faux-concern on his face. "Am I right to say he's a familiar face?"

Serena took a deep breath, a nervous and irritated expression on her face. She... Didn't like the prospect of allowing him to find out, but... She saw the look on his face, and sighed. "Lets' just say we've had a run-in." She was clearly hiding her apprehension very badly.

"An unpleasant one?"

"He and his gang tried to kill us." Lisa explained, an irritable tone, though, Serena relaxed a bit - she'd left out how it was last night.

Phil flashed them another sharp grin. "I'm glad to see they failed."

The three of them scrolled through the data, flipping from entry to entry about The Ecstasy Battalion, Serena and Lisa looking tense, and Anabel still detached. Most of the faces were familiar. Corto's entry went into a bit more detail about his history - what was known, at least. Corto was an ex-gangster, veteran of the Confederate-Mexican War (One of many violent conflicts from earlier in the century, during and after The Crash) and ex-corporate security, which certainly explained the origin of his cybernetic enhancements. The list of which, Serena was reading off with a worried look. Cybernetic limbs. Dermal plating. Load-bearing endoskeleton. Artificial heart. Iron lungs. The whole super-soldier package, and it put a leaden feeling in Serena's stomach, as she pictured his massive machine gun in her mind's eye.

Aside from Corto, the digital dossier had, on file, four other entries for the rest of the team: Pascal, the medical technician, was a grim looking man, with a distant expression, short black hair, and a heavy-lidded look behind thin glasses. Diane, the social infiltrator, was a lean, athletic looking girl with an elegant face, and golden blonde hair. Both of them, they'd recognized as the other two members of the entry team. Pascal looked more like a medical doctor than a hardened killer for hire, and Lisa - half awkwardly, half proud - identified Diane as the one she'd shot.

Redmond was a familiar name but an unfamiliar face. A stern, dark-skinned man with dreadlocks and a patch over his right eye. The getaway driver - which matched what they'd heard while snooping on The Battalion's radio chatter - and explained why they hadn't seen him in the hotel. Serena sighed. It also explained how they'd escaped - he was, evidently, very good.

The final profile was one that suddenly broke Anabel's phlegmatic mood. Her eyes went wide and she leaned in, exclaiming, "That's him! The hacker!" Victor, by his name... And Serena looked at him with a dry, heavy-lidded stare. Well, he definitely looked the part. A cocky-looking young man with a streak of blue dyed in his messy black hair, and the only one in five to crack a smile for his photo - Hell, he was even flashing a peace sign!

"That's the one who was cutting the cameras." Anabel said. He reminded Serena of every hot-shot script kiddie who thought they knew everything, and liked to flame people on Strangeworld, but... She closed her eyes and shook her head. He, evidently, wasn't a wannabe - he hung out with a team of mercenary killers, and digitally fought Anabel to a standstill. Serena took a deep breath. Evidently, this kid had bite to back up his bark.

Serena and Lisa exchanged uncomfortable glances again. Investigating Jonas' murder had taken a dangerous turn. A team of hardened mercs were out for their blood - and, if Phil Edinburgh was to be believed, there was a decent chance they were the ones they were looking for. "So, where are they?" Anabel asked, undaunted, her tone flat and matter of fact, and Serena and Lisa just looked nervous. Serena especially - her knife and handgun suddenly felt very inadequate.

"Well, that's a bright spot - you won't need to run around the city on a wild goose chase." Phil responded, reaching into the data nexus and switching to another file, Vic's face disappearing, replaced with a map of the city, with a certain part highlighted, and a surprised - and suspicious - expression coming onto Serena's face. "My sources tell me they've got a physical office you could look into."

"You're trying to get us killed, aren't you?" Serena crossed her arms, and Phil looked away, a guilty expression on his face.

"Now, why would I want to get a pretty girl like you killed, Serena?" He replied, and she rolled her eyes. Serena had to admit, it did start a bit fun, but especially now, it was getting old, and her patience was running thin.

"Look at this!" She pointed to a line of text on the display, her face turning more irritated. "They're hiding down in the Metrotown!"

"What's that?" Lisa asked, poking her eyes over her digital notebook, and Serena took a deep breath, a look of dread coming onto her face.

"Remember when we busted Lazerian's underground hideout?" She asked, and Lisa went from curious to uneasy - it provoked some bad memories. "It's like that. Saint Petersburg is built all over these tunnels and old buildings that sunk, or were partially destroyed in The Crash. The Metrotown is one of those places - and it's just about the worst slum in the city. It's the kind of place to hide out if the cops, or corporate stooges-"

"Like you two." Anabel said, cracking a sly grin, and Serena just sighed

"Yes, if people like us are after you, because they normally aren't crazy enough to waltz down there to try to find you."

"Calling it 'an underground slum' might be underselling it." Phil jokingly added. "It was this high tech underground community the Radley Corporation built under St. Petersburg. Linked up to the old Metro system - hence the name. They'd intended for it to be the 'future of sustainable living'-" He even did the air quotes. "As was trendy at the time. Though, it didn't quite end up like that. The Crash happened first, and drugs, crime, and violence flooded in, and the new owners didn't take care of it, so whole parts of it are caved in. From what I hear, though, the gangsters who run it these days are more judicious about maintenance."

"So why would anyone willingly go there?" Lisa asked, still dubious. "And, for that matter, why haven't YOU gone and investigated?"

"Being too poor to go anywhere else, for one." Phil replied. "And because it's run by gangsters. It's close to the harbour, so, they've made tunnels to run merch directly over. That means anything you want can be yours - for the right price. Drugs, money, illegal computer programs, organs, cyberware, people... Mercenary services." He cracked a wry, teasing smile. "You might want to do a bit of shopping while you're down there."

"I think we'll spend our money elsewhere." Serena dryly responded. Much of on offer seemed to be more Gabriel's thing. The Illegal programs, she had to admit piqued her interest a bit, but there wasn't a guarantee it wouldn't infect her cyberdeck with malware - or just brick it... That, and they didn't get a spending allowance for this mission.

"As for me," Phil continued. "Well..." He looked away, a guilty, shifty smile on his face. "It's two things. One, I've only just found this out - and, as for why I'm not there in person right now, why don't we just say my schedule's been a bit busy and you can pretend to believe me? Now then..." He leaned in, smile fading, looking more serious. "If you don't mind me asking, what are you going to do with this information?"

"We're going to track the mercenaries down." Anabel said, deciding their course of action for them, a determined look on her young face - and worried expressions on her colleagues'. "And find out if they had anything to do with my father's murder. If they don't, then we're still going to find out who hired them because I don't like it when people try to kill those who've helped me."

"I... don't think we should run in and start a gunfight." Lisa piped up, fidgeting a bit with her avatar's red ponytail. "I'd rather see if we can poke around their office - or their information systems."

Serena just took a deep breath. "I hope we'll be able to avoid a confrontation." Some how, she got a bad feeling they wouldn't. She turned her gaze out the window, watching the evening sun hover eternally over the trees. The thought of confronting the mercenaries was making her nervous, but... An odd grin came onto her face - to Lisa's disquiet, and interest. Well, she couldn't lie; it was exciting. They were going to dive into the city's most notorious slum to gather information on the men who'd tried to kill them. There was something oddly tantalizing about that, and... She groaned, looking back, more serious. "But either way, I do want to figure out why they want me dead." There was still a practical angle to this.

Of course... Serena sighed, and turned back to her companions. Anabel looked grim and determined, but Lisa looked like she was trying to keep cool, but clearly looked nervous about what they were about to blunder into. Serena couldn't blame her - this was a serious, dangerous mission, and she felt a bit under-equipped for it... She played a bit with her hair, looking out the window. Might be a good idea to stop by the armoury at The Castle and pick up some heavier toys, she mused. "Well then," Serena adjusted her collar a bit, as she rose from the chair. "Thanks for the information, Phil. I think we'd better log off, and plan for our little trip."

"Good luck then, Serena." He leaned back and made himself more comfortable in the chair. "I'll be looking forward to seeing you again." He winked for emphasis, and Serena sighed and rolled her eyes - but she couldn't quite suppress an irritated smile. What a cad, she mused.

"I'll try not to disappoint." She replied, as Lisa and Anabel rose with her, the three of them preparing to finally virtually disembark.

"So, what first?" Lisa asked, a bit tense, and Serena took a deep breath.

"I think I'm gonna make a phone call..." She said, before uttering a word of power, and the exit program appeared in her hand... A slightly embarrassed smile crept on her face. "In real life, I mean."

Serena spoke the command - "Log off" and she disappeared from the virtual world with an audible 'POP!' Lisa, who had been connecting through Serena's deck, disappeared as well, and Phil was surprised - and, much as he didn't want to admit it, a touch worried to see Anabel still there, standing infront of his seat, staring him down with an intense look.

After a few seconds of silence that felt like hours, punctuated by the rumbling of the train below, she finally spoke up. "I don't trust you."

Phil just laughed a bit, almost wistfully, and fidgeted in the chair. "That's probably a good idea. You're a smart girl, Anabel."

"So what's your deal?" Anabel leaned over him. "I think Serena's starting to figure it out. Lisa definitely knows. But you never fooled me." Phil adjusted the collar of his polo shirt. "You're not who you say you are."

And what am I, exactly?" Phil replied, with a cocky, but impressed smile. "I'm just a private eye - looking into your father's killing."

"You're a merc." Anabel pitilessly cut him off, and Phil cleared his throat. "Like the men who killed my father!"

"Close." He snapped his fingers. "I'm a guy who handles problems for others. Detective work's my forte - but it's not all I'm good at."

"Have you killed anyone, Mr. Edinburgh?"

"No one that you'd know, so don't worry." His grin turned sharp, and wily. Anabel's expression remained merely cold. "Nothing sentimental. No need to rationalize it, either - I hold myself to a professional standard."

"I know the insurance company story's a sham." Anabel said, shifting the conversation, as she crossed her arms. "So who do you work for?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out." Phil laughed a bit. Anabel just glowered at him. "But, if you want something to go on, the most I'll tell you is my employer is someone with an interest in your father's killer. Other than that, my hands are tied. Client confidentiality."

"Then why are you helping us?..." Her gaze narrowed. "Unless that whole story with the Ecstasy Battalion is a lie, too."

"Everything I've told you about the Ecstasy Battalion is true." He said. "Scouts honour. If you don't want to believe me - don't go."

"They're the men who tried to kill Serena and Lisa." Anabel groaned. "I recognize them. I'm going to find out who hired them, regardless. So, again, why?"

"I'm helping you because it's in my interest." He cracked a smile. "Again, you're free to refuse my help if you don't trust me, but, if you ARE going after the Ecstasy Battalion..."

"Hm?" Anabel raised an eyebrow.

"Could you do me a favour?"

She shot him a glare. "What."

"Keep Serena and Lisa safe, alright?" Phil winked at her. Anabel said nothing, blue eyes boring holes into him. "I'll admit, I've quickly grown fond of them - Serena, mostly. I'd hate for something bad to happen to them." He laughed, and Anabel groaned, but nodded, and made her exit, disappearing from existence, and leaving Phil alone, looking out the window with a wistful smile.

He had to admit, he did feel bad. Everything he'd said to them was the truth, but... He laughed a bit. He hadn't said the whole story... Did he need to, though? They'd survived the Ecstasy Battalion's first attempt on their lives. That gave them better odds. Even if the mercs only needed to be lucky once, Somehow, he had a feeling Serena could be lucky every time...

At least, he hoped. Phil sighed, an almost remorseful look as he pictured Serena in his mind's eye. Her dark, moody face. Her short, boyish hairdo. Her blood-red eyes. Charming, but very capable, and a survivor. Despite the conflict of interests, he found he was rooting for her - and hoping she'd survive what his boss had in store...

Serena popped open the Jaguar's boot with a satisfying click, and in the smoky air of the carpark, pulled out their kit - eyes focused on the pair of gun cases. Compliments of Cecil Jean-Baptiste, the Security Department's Senior Quartermaster. The girls had made a stop at The Castle on their way to The Metrotown to even the odds, and pick up some heavier firepower.

Another click, and the twin latches of one of the gun cases opened, and Serena held up one of the equalizers they'd asked for with a smile. They were issued a pair of jet-black MP-12 submachine guns: sleek, black polymer-furnished firearms, with a bullpup design that saw the curved magazines inserted into the weapon's grip, a sliding buttstock to make the weapon more concealable, blue ammo counter on the side (with a switch to turn it off, for concealability) and a pop up, red-dot holographic sight.

Serena briefly tested how the weapon felt in her hands, sliding out the stock and taking aim at a nearby Honda coupe, while Lisa watched her, rather quizzically, and tried to wrap her head around her own MP-12. The mercenaries were packing automatic weapons, so, Serena mused, they should, too. It wasn't an unfamiliar weapon; The Special Asset Protection Squad trained with it fairly often. The German submachine gun was a company favourite for it's reliability, accuracy, concealability, and especially, it's calibre - 5x30mm AP, in stamped letters on the receiver. The rounds - poking from the top of the banana magazines - resembled scaled down rifle bullets; spitzer tips, necked cases, with a blue plastic cap covering the titanium penetrator. That would make things more even, she mused, and idly pictured the look on Corto's face when this baby punched right through his fancy cyberware...

In the boot, with their guns, were two sets of black, acrylic combat webbing - chest-mounted flexible light body armour with a dozen pouches for a dozen replacement magazines. Serena inserted a mag, racked her weapon's slide, and a blue '30' appeared on her weapon's ammunition counter. Eleven, now, and ready to rock... Though, Lisa, not being on 'The Specials', needed a quick crash course in how to load and aim the weapon, where the safety was, where the magazine release was, how to use the sights, and of course - how to fire. That last one Serena didn't demonstrate, but, she advised her friend to stick with short bursts, and to not dump the entire magazine into a target - unless she really had to.

While Lisa slung the weapon over her shoulder and tried to stow it in her coat, so it didn't print, Serena went to the Jaguar's back doors and retrieved her cyberdeck and bag of tricks, giving the latter to Lisa to hold - they were, after all, likely going to need some computing power as well. She repeated the gesture, slinging the weapon under her coat and concealing it with her jacket, and buttons done up, slung the cyberdeck over her back.

"Isn't all that stuff heavy?" Lisa asked, and Serena just laughed, and pulled on the cyberdeck strap.

"Well, I've been working out." She bragged with a flex of her arm, and Lisa rolled her eyes and smiled. Between the machine gun, knife, handgun, and cyberdeck, and ammo to spare, she was feeling like an extremely militant console cowgirl. "Now then..." she paused to take a glance around the parkade they were planning to leave the Jaguar in. A rather dreary, dry, smoky place, with lots of graffiti, but fairly clean for being in such a rough part of town. It had three things they were looking for, too: A guard out front, modest fees, and the fact that it was pretty empty this late at night, so nobody got freaked out by the girls waving guns around. "Lets' get going." Serena said, and the two of them took a deep breath, and made for the exit.

Three floors down, retracing the path their Jaguar had made along concrete ramps, and passing the gate guard once again, the inattentive looking man briefly looking up from his dataslate to give the girls a tip of his cap, before getting back to 'more important' things, and Serena and Lisa took in the crisp, winters' air as they stepped out of the parkade and onto Marine Drive, close to the harbour, smelling the crisp tang of ocean salt - the real McCoy - and the scents of fried food and alcohol that filled the street, and the chatter of people, and the screeching of tires, and the distant music from clubs and bars.

The harbour was all the way in the south-east side of the city, right on the Atlantic. It was a rough town, but a different sort of rough to the slums Serena had been used to. More working class. Most of the buildings here that weren't on the harbour itself were warehouses, holding goods for export or goods that had been imported, and to be sold. The rest, homes, shops, restaurants and saloons were squat and more modest, but not austere - there was an odd style to them. Modern concrete and glass worked into a mix of English and Cuban Colonial, with Roman arches and recessed entryways and high gothic windows, and lots of colour and brightness even before all the neon signs and advertising billboards, and stark, white streetlamps. The evening sun hovering over the rooftops, about to drift down and leave the world for a while, and the snow had let up for a bit, leaving the harbour-town's glitter and light to go unimpeded.

Lisa guided them through town, directions on her dataslate, while Serena kept an eye out - ready to tear her coat open and expose her weaponry at the first sign of trouble, though... Well, up here it was relatively peachy. It felt more like a bawdy part of town than a dangerous one, and Serena felt, most of the actual dangerous characters were down in the Metrotown itself. Most of the people on the street here were sailors on shore leave, stevedores having a bit of fun after work, various fobs and partygoers, and the occasional joygirls in dense fur coats, sometimes with a promoter with a broad-brimmed, feathered hat, that the girls generally tried to ignore - especially when the pimps made rude suggestions and gestures at them.

Soon enough, they turned off Marine drive and the streets became less excited, the glow of neon less pronounced in their eyes. The two of them left the bawdy and noisy street behind them, heading into a neighbourhood mostly dominated by warehouse complexes, with thick, concrete walls topped by razor wire, overlooked by guard towers, the names of various shipping conglomerates written along the complex walls.

Eventually, they'd found it. What did, in the distance, look like nothing more than a large, abandoned lot - which, it was, but it was the one they were looking for. A place that that had, in days gone by, been a promise of better times were to come - but now, was something the respectable part of the city would probably like to forget.

In Saint Petersburg, one needed to distinguish the "Saint Petersburg Metro." from "The Old Metro." Serena had taken the former a few times - mostly when she didn't have her bike, or was too drunk to drive it home. It was a modern rapid transit system, lifted above the streets, joining the city together with an extensive network of electric rails. Modern Saint Petersburg preferred to build up - the definitive example being the Skyroad above downtown. It wasn't always this way.

The Saint Petersburg Metro was only built after The Crash, but the city wasn't bereft of rail-based public transport before then. The Old Metro sprawled underneath the city in those halcyon days, linking the whole city with it's massive tunnels. Today, much of it was forgotten or buried, much of the old stations built over - the underground was a place best avoided these days. Out here, near the edge of the city, the law held little sway, and gangsters ruled the roost, parts of the old metro survived - changed.

The above-ground entrance faced the street like the forlorn mouth of a cavern. What had once been a chic, modernistic, open concept station with a little interior plaza now lay empty and deserted, covered in trash and graffiti. The locals - what few of them hung around here - gave the place a wide berth. The lights inside had long since burnt out, and the mouth of the building was blockaded off by rusted, ancient wire fencing, like briers around a monster's nest - which some enterprising soul had long ago cut an entrance in. A faded-looking metal sign hung from the ceiling - dangerously precariously, but in the gloom, Serena could make out the words: "Saint Petersburg Metro." She read off. "Century Line, Quay Square Station..."

Another metal sign was bolted to the ruined fence. Less worn, but more foreboding: "Condemned structure." Serena read. "No entry by order of the city council. Trespassing carries a fine of... A hundred thousand pounds!..." She looked a bit shocked - but then remembered the United Federal Pound had been redenominated between then and now, and the equivalent 2068 fee would likely be a lot smaller. "and a minimum of one year in prison." An uneasy, sardonic smile came to her face. She got the impression this wasn't enforced very much anymore.

"We're going in there, then?" Lisa said, She and Serena peering in through the chain-link fence, into the gloom of the abandoned metro station - and where, faintly visible in the evening light, you could see, past a series of turnstiles that had long been torn up, a stairway lurked, leading down into the bowels of the city.

A chime rang out from Serena's pocket, and she dug the cell phone from her jeans and an uneasy smile, and a heavy-lidded look came over her. "Yes." She read off Anabel's message. "We are." She shrugged her shoulders, taking in a deep breath of the wintry air, and taking her first step past the rusted out fence, onto worn and cracked tile, an uneasy smile coming to her face. "Lets' go and do this, then!" Serena found herself nervously exclaiming, finding a conflicting rush of emotion running through her. Trepidation, obviously, but peppered with-

"You sound a bit excited to be here..." Lisa responded, finishing her thought, following close behind, and Serena's smile turned a bit bashful.

"I mean, I kind of am." Serena joked, surprising Lisa - and surprising herself, too. "I mean, yeah, I'm nervous, but..."

"But what?"

"It's..." Serena's eyes went off to the domed ceiling, reinforced with steel beams. "A bit hard to describe." She admitted. "It's the sort of thing I've only ever read about on the internet! Yeah, it's dangerous," Serena laughed, "But it's... Kind of exciting too, don't you think!" She turned over her shoulder towards Lisa - her bizarrely eager, yet anxious expression only amplifying the trepidation on her friend's face. "Did you ever go out exploring places as a kid?" She asked.

"No." Now, Lisa just looked confused.

"Neither did I." Serena admitted, letting out a deep sigh as she turned back to face the worn looking, graffiti-covered stairwell leading into the Metrotown below. "I guess I'm making up for lost time..." She said, the two girls going past the ruined turnstiles, the gates and what was probably the card scanner in heaps on the floor, eliminating the need to jump it. Serena took a deep breath, the cold, wintry air smelling just a bit fainter, replaced with a slightly stale, musty tang. A distant, human smell - body odour, mostly - and- Serena flinched, stopping in her tracks, and suddenly feeling her whole body tense up a bit, a biting, dark gnawing sensation suddenly coming to the fore. Like a shark, she could smell a faint tang of blood from somewhere far below, making her aware that her body needed some...

"Are you alright?" Lisa asked, and Serena let out a nervous laugh, tugged at her collar, and kept going, holding her cyberdeck sling tightly.

"Yeah, sorry." She took another deep breath - and feeling it again. The very faint, iron tang of blood in the air. Stale, but still making her fangs buzz. "I know I said I was a bit excited." Serena groaned. "But I'm feeling a bit jumpy too." Half a lie. She. She'd risen late, and been busy today, spending a while in The Matrix with Evelyn Blackwell and Phil Edinburgh, and even if they had eaten a hearty breakfast and took a quick lunch break at a cafe out in the city, Serena hadn't quite been attending to her needs.

She clenched her teeth. That... Awful gnawing sensation was starting to creep up on her. After the adrenaline yesterday; chasing down Phil Edinburgh and fighting off the Ecstasy Battalion, she realized her nanites used a bit more blood than she expected, and now, after spending another day in The Matrix, where, divorced from her body's senses, she didn't feel it at all, it was beginning to make it's way into her soul, like an unwelcome guest late at night. It was light at first. Like a small headache of the soul, but... She fixed up the collar of her jacket, and made sure the machine gun wasn't too visible underneath. It would get worse. It always did.

Hopefully, she mused, as she took her first, nervous step into the stairwell, boots on the worn concrete steps, beginning her descent, they'd be able to finish this quickly enough, and she could slink off, and slake her thirst. An uneasy lump came in her throat. She had to - nothing good, she knew, would come if she let it sit.

At the bottom of the steps, Serena had expected to find nothing but darkness, and for Lisa to need to use her cell's flashlight again, but, to both of their surprise, once they'd reached the bottom and turned a corner, they'd found the abandoned metro station bathed in a dim, blue glow, from dozens of lamps that lined the walls. Clearly an addition made after The Crash, from the rough handiwork and simple, functional design.

Were it not for the light, Serena mused, she would have said this place looked completely abandoned. It definitely looked as much from the outside - the blue lamps had been placed deep enough that, from street-level, you couldn't see their glow at all. The floor was cracked and covered in detritus and random garbage, and the walls were all covered in graffiti and gang tags, but she could hear the hum of machinery and distant chatter and raucous partying if she focused.

On the slightly stale smelling air, she could pick up, in the distance, fried food, alcohol, sweat, awful cologne, gunpowder, odd, chemical smells, and blood, a black, gnawing feeling erupting at the back of her mind, that she did her best to suppress. This place was inhabited - and it wasn't a squat. Well, legally speaking it was, but it was too sophisticated to feel like one. Some rough, but competent workmanship had clearly gone into this place. The air smelled stale, yet felt... Oddly clean. Definitely not stagnant. Clearly, someone down here was handy with ventilation.

"Follow the black rabbit..." Lisa read off, and Serena raised an eyebrow, quickly turning over to where her friend was looking, and an odd grin came to Lisa's face as she pointed to a section of wall. With all the graffiti on the walls - most of it illegible to her demographic, she'd missed a set of instructions, painted on what was probably once an advertising panel. One sentence, a profile silhouette of a rabbit, and an arrow, all in black spray paint, directing them further into the old metro station.

An odd grin came onto Serena's face. "Isn't white more traditional?"

"White paint probably wouldn't show up as well, I'm guessing." Lisa replied, the two girls turning away and following the arrow, going further into the graffiti-covered halls, passing by the remnants of what used to be kiosks and newsstands and food stalls, guided by the rabbits. On the walls, on the floors, one rabbit was even on the ceiling, all directing the girls through a complicated path; they'd need to take several detours to avoid areas that had collapsed, or been bricked up, going through improvized passages through areas that Serena thought might once have been offices. The carpets had long since been pulled up and the furnishings long since destroyed, and the computers long since pawned for drug money, all bathed in that same, ethereal blue glow. This part of the path definitely looked like a squat. Serena even found a few unoccupied sleeping rolls and improvised bedding, which made Serena wonder about the owners - and if they were even around anymore.

Eventually, the rabbits led them back into the metro station, and down a cracked and half-broken set of stairs, an escalator beside it that had long since been torn up, and an elevator to the side, the doors pried off to reveal a black, gaping void that no one with any sense would walk into. This sort of safety hazard would probably give the legal department an aneurysm if they looked at it... Serena laughed a bit. No, that was a fairly corporate way of looking at things, and... She sighed. Her whole life, she mused, had been dominated by that sort of thinking.

Serena found a nervous, but excited smile on her face as they descended the stairs. It felt like walking into a dragons' nest - it was nerve-wracking, but, at the same time, admittedly exciting. She was creeping down into the underbelly of the city, chasing down a squad of mercenaries who'd tried to kill her. The sort of thing that was completely alien to an ordinary life of monitoring computer systems and keeping out miscreants, and yet... At the bottom, Serena needed to take a deep breath, the fangs in her mouth buzzing again, the hollow feeling creeping up, and dragging her back to Earth. Getting too excited might not be wise, she mused. She was finding the situation uncomfortably familiar - this was the way they'd started their descent into Dr. Lazerian's hideout, after all.

"Hm?" Lisa asked, and Serena nervously laughed, and fixed her scarf.

"Sorry." She took another deep breath, as they turned onto the platform, Serena's red eyes prying out into the dim, blue chamber, trying to find the next rabbit. "I just thought I heard something." She lied, the black hunger flashing in her once again. She'd... Really need to wrap this up quickly, Serena mused. She could probably find blood down here, but it'd be expensive, no guarantee of quality, and, of course... She turned over to her friend. She couldn't figure out a way to buy it without blowing her cover.

At the bottom of the stairs, they found themselves in a large, tubular chamber. A central platform in the middle stood over two recessed, shadow-shrouded pits that, in a forgotten time, might once have had trains running through them. The central platform was bisected by a a series of columns, garbage cans, advertising panels, and benches, occupied by the first sign of life they'd seen so far. A small group of gaunt, rough-looking figures, sat on and around one of the benches, idly chatting and passing around what looked like a cigar - but smelled way unlike one.

A welcome party, it wasn't - the locals briefly regarded the newcomers with idle curiosity - the same sort of regard you'd give to a stray cat - before resuming their conversation and passing around the 'cigar.'

The black rabbit turned out to be underneath their feet, and directed them to a passage on the other end of the platform - the opposite way from where the 'locals' had been sitting - where, in the wall, was a large passageway. Obvious from the bottom of the staircase and growing more obvious as they approached and got a better view, as the sound of conversation and commotion grew louder in their ears, was that it went down, further into the forgotten depths of the city. A large flight of stairs on their left, and two broken pairs of escalators on their right, handrails all scratched up from where skateboards and rollerblades had ground down on them. An old sign hung above the entryway, obscured by graffiti, but another very intricate and stylish tag, on the ceiling, helpfully told them where they were:

"Welcome to Metrotown." Serena read off. "Quay Square Entrance." A nervous grin came to her face, as her ears picked up the murmurs of conversation and movement from deep within. "This must be the place."

"I'm getting really bad vibrations, here." Lisa said, as the girls were halfway down the stairs. "Do you think Phil's trying to get us killed?"

Serena shrugged her shoulders, and groaned. "I really wish I knew."

A chime rang from Serena's phone once again, and she pulled it out, a perplexed look coming over her - and Lisa, looking over her shoulder - as they read it. "He's untrustworthy." Serena read off Anabel's message. "But this time he's not trying to kill you."

She took a short pause on the stairs. "You sound sure." Serena said aloud.

"We spoke privately." Anabel explained. That just raised more questions in Serena's mind, but, for the time being she just kept silent, and continued her descent, down, deeper into the city, clearing the final step and finding themselves in a great, graffiti-covered circular hall, amid a flood of smoky blue light. The girls finally found themselves in Metrotown, proper, and were greeted by a flood of sensation.

The drone of the ventilation system was, down here, fully drowned out by the roar of conversation and busy clamour. Rough and rowdy and tough types were going every which way. Raucous music and the sounds of partying poured out from underground clubs and bars. Droning, electronic sounds of games and fun rang from casinos and arcade parlours. A strange mix of smells tickle her nose. Fried food, beer, coffee, cigarettes, vomit, and- her eyes went wide, and she needed to clench her teeth and shake her head and focus. Blood. Stronger down here. Where someone was probably learning a harsh lesson in not pissing off someone whom others habitually addressed as 'Mister.' or 'Boss.'

Trying to suppress the gnawing emptiness inside of her. Subtle, but gradually picking up in pitch, Serena went through the crowd and found, at the far end of the concave wall, tagged over what was perhaps once some inspiring mural about cooperation and harmony or something similarly corporate, was a large message. A large painting of the black rabbit, waving hello, right underneath a large painted-on banner reading "WELCOME TO METROTOWN." In smaller print underneath, was "Established 2032." Underneath that, was something Serena really wasn't expecting: rules. This being a lawless town run by gangsters where you could get anything illicit and/or morally questionable, for the right price, there weren't many. There were only three rules in Metrotown, but they were, judging by the frowning rabbit with a hard hat to their right, taken quite seriously:

1. Don't screw with our computer systems or infrastructure.

2. Don't spray over any engineers' guild tags. (Look for the black rabbit)

3. Don't start any trouble.

Number two seemed benign. Depending on how things went, numbers one and three might prove more difficult.

Serena adjusted her scarf, Lisa adjusted her glasses. "How do they enforce those rules?" Lisa asked and Serena's red eyes peered out, into the throng of people, and her gaze narrowed and she subtly gestured over, drawing her friend's eyes to a group of gangsters. Rough-looking men in working class clothes, with cocky attitudes and red bandanas, openly brandishing weapons - firearms and knives and machetes sitting pretty in holsters and sheathes, and hopefully there, they would stay. Lisa just looked away and nervously fiddled with her hair. There was her answer.

Though, there was a question on Serena's mind, running awkwardly through it like a rascally schoolboy: "So, how do we find the mercs' hideout?" She asked, and took another look at the crowd. "I don't really want to start shaking people down for directions."

"Well..." Lisa carefully dug the dataslate out of her purse, while a group of men in sharp suits - and automatic shotguns slung on their backs - passed by, and Serena, taking a deep breath and decided it was a bit too warm in here, especially for winter. So, she figured she ought to do as they did in Rome, and began to unbutton her coat. "I managed to find a map online, but it's a bit rough." She said, and Serena looked over at the slate, and her expression turned completely nonplussed as actually read it.

'Rough' was underselling it. It was supposed to be three-dimensional, but Serena wasn't sure it conformed to Euclidean geometry. Corridors and chambers sprawled every which way like a tangled spiderweb, in all directions - sometimes through eachother. There were comments doodled in the margins, which provided no clarity to the map itself but an uncomfortable amount into the cartographer's mind. They read things like, 'Wall people in this corridor, go around,' 'Don't look into the mirrors in this room,' and Serena's personal favourite, 'NO NO NO NO NO NO NO' over an innocuous hallway, in very scratchy block capitals. Serena shook her head and handed the map back, a look on her face somewhere between amused and concerned, wondering how much drugs the cartographer was on - and grimly, whether it was accurate.

"The rest of the maps I could find aren't much better..." Lisa said, replying to the look on her friend's face in a disappointed tone. The two of them locked eyes, Lisa looking more worried, and Serena looking disappointed. she'd JUST said, she didn't want to shake down passers by for directions, but-

Anabel made her presence known again with a chime from Serena's jeans, and she looked surprised - then the both of them turned curious.

"What'd she say?" Lisa asked, while Serena dug her phone out, revealing Anabel's message, the two girls looking both intrigued - and slightly worried when Serena read it off.

"I found an actual map on one of the computers here." Anabel said, and a few seconds later, a follow-up. "I didn't get caught, don't worry..." Serena paused. She didn't bother to read off the " >:) " Anabel had added. "I'm sending it to Lisa's tablet." she followed up, and her hazel-green eyes went wide in shock and she quickly looked back to her tablet computer, a mix of embarrassment and anger coming over her.

"You haven't been reading anything on there, have you?" Lisa asked, and Serena had to break eye contact, a risible smile coming onto her face at the irony of that.

A response, and Serena lost her composure entirely and broke into hysteric laughter. "I think it would be better for the both of us if I said nothing else." Lisa groaned and crossed her arms, not finding it as funny.

"Keep it to yourself, then." Lisa harshly rebuked her, and shot Serena a glare, as she began to calm down and compose herself. "I knew I should have encrypted this thing..." She sighed.

"Hindsight's always 20-20." Serena commented, an innocent-looking expression on her face as Lisa shot her a glare from behind her glasses.

"Lets' just go." Lisa took a deep breath, and opened the file, and this time Serena was the one to look over her shoulder at it, both girls looking much more relieved - It looked rather dry and technical, but it was also sane, and roughly correlated with three-dimensional space.

"So do you know where the Ecstasy Battalion are?" Serena asked.

"Yes." Anabel texted her back "Subcomplex A4. Quay Place Area. The engineers labelled it in the margins." Serena had been reading it aloud, and Lisa switched over to that floor, finding, neatly labelled, The Ecstasy Battalion's Headquarters, opposite a diner, annotated, 'Expensive, but they get the job done. Have a history of getting revenge on people who tried screwing them, so don't deal with them in bad faith.'

"Why wasn't this on the clearnet?" Serena asked, and her gaze drifted down to the bottom of the screen, and an uneasy smile crossed her face. 'CONFIDENTIAL'. She read off, in a whisper. 'Engineers' guild eyes only. Leakers will be shot.' Serena cleared her throat, fixing her scarf, looked back to the welcome mural and it's three rules. Well, she mused, at least Anabel was good at staying hidden.

The map Anabel had pilfered took them on an odyssey through the otherworldly, blue-tinted underground city. Serena found herself shocked by just how... Lively everything was. She expected the place to be half-abandoned and falling apart, but, at least on what she'd overheard people call "Uptown", it was absolutely packed, and bustling with activity and strange characters. The 'top' level of The Metrotown had apparently once been intended to be a retail district. It resembled an old fashioned shopping mall, with broad, multi-level boulevards, high, vaulted ceilings, flanked by storefronts and outlets, branching off into side passageways and converging in large plazas. Of course, time - and the current occupants - had taken their toll.

Much of the tile floors were cracked and worn down, almost every exposed surface had graffiti on it, all the glass was long broken and replaced with wood panels or metal bars, and the ornate guardrails that once kept the inattentive or drunk from falling onto the floor below were rusted, worn, and in some places, gone, with precarious looking planks and rope bridges stretching in between the gaps, over the 'ground' floor. There was the occasional bit of trash or refuse on the floor, but anything that looked like it might be worth something would be snatched up the moment it fell (in fact, they'd seen it happen; someone dropped what looked to be a computer part, and it was gone before it hit the ground) and all that was left was the occasional bit of a flagstone or something.

The whole place was lit up like a firework show. Even down here, amid the blue gloom, the city's fondness for neon endured. Illuminated signs and displays stuck out from the graffiti, enticing people to buy, and visit, and there was so much to see. Gambling halls, massage parlours, bawdy houses, bars, restraints, drug dens, and oh-so-many stores. Phil hadn't been kidding - just by the signs, Serena could have bought anything she liked: bootlegs, knick-knacks, drugs, guns, food, cyberware and gadgets of all sorts, out of storefronts, and even from more enterprising merchants who sold out of carts, stalls, blankets, and filthy trenchcoats - and there was no shortage of customers.

What had truly surprised Serena was just how many people were down here. It was almost deafening; conversations and bargaining bled in with the sounds of music and digital games and other, less wholesome things. The Metrotown was absolutely packed with all sorts of characters - of the sort that meant Serena needed to keep her phone in her coat and cyberdeck tight on its strap, and Lisa needed to make sure her purse was secure. It wasn't just junkies and gangsters, either. Dockworkers from 'upstairs' and day labourers in coveralls. Clerks and salarymen and all sorts of suits - Serena and Lisa included. Toughs and bravos and in flashy clothes. Youth delinquents - some even still wearing school uniforms! Foreign types from far off lands, in strange clothes, with strange demeanours, and even a few rich nobs slumming it, cloistered by mobs of tough-looking, no nonsense bodyguards.

It was amazingly vibrant and thoroughly more cosmopolitan than Serena had ever expected, and she felt... Almost impressed, an enthusiastic smile coming to her face as she took it all in, experiencing something she'd only read about- had been expecting, and the vampire found herself almost a bit impressed, an enthusiastic smile coming onto her face as she looked around, taking it all in, experiencing something brand-new she'd only ever read about-

BANG. A gunshot. A scream rang out over the din, and Serena and Lisa paused for a moment, while the rest of the world was going on like this was an everyday thing. They turned to their right to look, where on the other side of the boulevard, through the open door of a saloon they could see one of the gangsters, with a red bandana around his neck, having just blown out the kneecap of a stringy looking lad with a large bore revolver, and Serena's stomach turned and she grabbed her friend by her collar they quickly moved on, right as she saw him bring the butt of his pistol down onto the man's face. The last thing they wanted right now was any trouble.

"YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD CHEAT ME, HUH?!" The gangster yelled from behind them, as Serena and Lisa picked up their pace. Another scream, another howl of pain, and Serena flinched, and let off Lisa's collar to clutch her stomach. The images of blood on her mind provoking the gnawing feeling in her soul again. Serena took a deep breath, and shook her head. For all the vibrancy and excitement of this town, this was still, after all, an anarchic underground slum run by gangsters. They'd better just get what they came for, and get going.

The route from Anabel's map eventually took them out of the main "uptown" area, where all the fun and business happened, and down a shadowy side passage, Past improvised hot dog stands and shady cyberware dealers, and into another stairwell. This one much smaller and less ostentatious, and reminiscent of the stairwell in an office building, with years of grime and graffiti, under smoky, blue lights, creating an atmosphere that seemed like some strange, cybernetic dream. The stairs all the way down had been blocked, so, they'd needed to make a quick detour through what had once possibly been an administrative centre, or office complex, but, to Serena's eyes, genuinely looked like a squat. Moreso than anything else she'd seen down here.

This level was less crowded than 'uptown' above, and much quieter. The conversation here was a distant murmur, echoing trough more boulevards, clutter formed into odd warrens, full of junk and junkies, all bathed in that strange blue glow. The neon jumble of uptown was gone, and azure returned to the forefront. The halls weren't crowded with people, but they were still around, hanging out, talking, on computers and dataslates, and laying on the ground, or propped up against the walls, in the throes of ambrosia and turbine, and other worse things. Serena had to look away - the prone form of some ambrosia fiend in the midst of a pipe dream bringing back bad memories of what happened after she'd drank out of Euler, the gentleman thief - and it was making her unbearably thirsty.

The map led them into Another stairwell, bathed in a blue glow. Another few flights down, on worn stairs and rusty handrails, and they'd finally made their way to what the map had called 'Subcomplex A4, and, as Serena and Lisa out of the stairwell, they needed to stop in the doorway, and take it in. It was uncanny.

The residential blocks of The Metrotown - even with the wear and graffiti, it was obvious what they were - took the form of elegant, well-decorated little townhouses, five stories high, that seemed to be melded with the metal of the underground complex, with little brickwork patterns and columns and borders carved into the steel, and covered in graffiti. At ground level, the girls were standing on a broad, brick pathway, torn up and worn down by time, and in the arched ceiling, glassy panels - long dormant, but Serena suspected they were solar lights. An artificial simulacrum of the sun's warm glow. Even the graffiti, wear and neglect, debris, and the rough looking characters hanging around couldn't quite cover up an odd feeling of grandeur Serena was getting from this place. The folly of the past.

Lisa held up her tablet and led them onwards, and Serena held her cyberdeck resolutely with her left hand, leaving her right free - to grasp her MP12, if the need arose, leading them through the wide boulevards and down winding pathways, Serena occasionally peering into open doorways, finding drug dens, and workshops, and back-alley (in a sense) clinics. A whole society under here, where the law dared not tread. Finally, Lisa told them to stop, and they looked around. This must be the place.

Past where they stood, the street curved and bent around a corner, blocking their view of the rest of the boulevard. On their left was one of the sources of fried food-smell that had been tickling Serena's nose the whole way, and making her hungry in the mortal sense. 'Anatolyn's Diner,' by the pink neon sign overhead, was built into one of the townhouses - and had torn open the walls to build a small patio, that extended partially out into the street, the faint sounds of very old fashioned swing music from the jukebox, leaking out into the air.

A few people were hanging around, eating deep fried artery-clogging goodness, and smoking, and it only made Serena that much more entranced, but she pulled herself away, needing to forget the taste of fried food and cigarettes and... She clenched her teeth, fangs buzzing. Blood, and focus on the task ahead, because, on their right, was what they were looking for. It was clearly different to the townhouses they'd passed so far.

Only two stories high. Squatter, sturdier, almost fortified-looking, and a massive brass shield hung over the recessed steel doors. Serena thought it looked like it might've once been a police station, though, judging by the words 'ECSTASY BATTALION' hanging over the doors in glowing green neon, it's current owners couldn't have been further from that. A smaller sign, by the door, in neon blue, read 'All problems solved with extreme prejudice. Satisfaction guaranteed.' An odd smile crawled onto Serena's face. Well, they certainly liked to advertise - it was as Phil said. Mercs brag. A chill went up her spine, and the smile faded. Here they were. They'd tracked down the men who'd tired to kill them - and possibly killed Anabel's father - and Serena quickly looked around for escape routes, her heart sinking. Not many: Forward and back down the street, with no cover. They could try ducking into the diner, though, she doubted the owner would appreciate it.

"Can you get a connection into their computers, Anabel?" Serena said, pulling her cell out of her pocket again. Just focus on the mission at hand.

"Only the surface-level systems." Anabel sent back. "They're using some really strong encryption."

"How long will it take to crack?" Lisa asked, and the response put a lump in Serena's throat and an uncomfortable look on Lisa's face.

"I don't think I'll be able to. Not from here. There's too much interference. I need a direct connection."

Serena and Lisa turned to look at eachother, grim and nervous. The situation was becoming... Uncomfortably familiar. Serena had that same problem trying to jack into the WalderSoft mainframe, and... She let out a nervous laugh. It hadn't gone well.

"How do we get in there, then?" Lisa replied, as she scanned the building with her hazel-green eyes. The only visible entryway was the doors. The windows were all barred up (and would likely set off an alarm if they tried.) The door had a buzzer, but, considering who they were dealing with, that seemed like a terrible idea.

"More to the point..." Serena took a cautious step up the stairs, onto the stoop, peering in through the barred windows, finding no movement in the darkness. "What do we do when we get in? It'll be a fight if we meet them. After what happened in the hotel." An uncomfortable, sardonic smile crept onto her face. "It's gonna be shoot first and ask questions never."

"So, don't go through the front door, then." Lisa half-joked, though, she still looked a bit nervous.

"I've checked." Anabel texted to Serena's phone. "That's the only entrance." Lisa looked a bit concerned, but Serena just looked confused.

"Are you sure?" She asked. "There aren't any maintenance hatches or back-doors or anything?"

"Bricked up." Anabel responded. "By design." Serena fixed her collar and Lisa fiddled with her hair. "Unless you're willing to blow a hole in the wall, the only way in or out is the front door."

"Didn't Cecil say we should take a bomb with us?" Lisa asked, and Serena shook her head.

"Well, he said we shouldn't." She groaned, and crossed her arms. "Once we told him where we were going, he got pretty serious about not wanting people killed in the crossfire. Or causing a collapse." Serena took a deep breath, and pulled on the strap of her exposed machine gun, finding her hand around the grip, index finger ready to switch it to full-auto at the first sign of trouble. "But we've already come this far, right?" She let out a nervous laugh. "Worst comes to it, we'll run back out the front door."

"There's one good thing though." Anabel sent, and Serena raised an eyebrow. "I don't see any activity on their systems. I think no one's home."

"Are they out?" Lisa asked, and Serena took a deep breath.

"I guess so..." Serena responded, and stepped onto the porch and towards the sturdy-looking steel double doors. Not the sort of thing you could kick open. A pull on the knob revealed they were locked, as she'd expected, but any hacker knew a lock was a temporary stumbling block, not a permanent deterrent... An embarrassed, irritated look came to her face. At least, today it wasn't, since she'd remembered to bring her cyberdeck. Her red eyes scanned the door for a port, finding nothing obvious on the door itself, but on the dense frame, she spied a maintenance panel, artly concealed in the metal, that she needed the point of her large butterfly knife to wedge open, and a bit of elbow grease later, a cocky smile flashed onto Serena's face. Practically, it was open already.

Lisa handed over her bag of tricks, and she got to work. From there, the door would be child's play. Serena quickly hooked up her cyberdeck to the port, and began running a brute force attack. She didn't even need to jack in with the trodes - all it took was injecting a bypass, and she was in. Full admin access, too. Serena laughed a bit. It was easier than she'd expected. The locks loosened with a satisfying slide of metal within the door, and, Serena unhooked her cyberdeck and slung it on her back, and put both hands on her weapon, flicking the safety off, while, from behind her, Lisa was doing the same, retrieving the MP12 from her coat. Serena took a deep breath. Now, she just needed to hope Anabel was right.

Breaching and Clearing wasn't a heavily covered subject in 'boot camp from hell.' you were supposed to leave that for the grunts. Sometimes, though, the situation demanded - so Serena knew the basics. Machine guns at the ready, and attracting a few stares from Anatolyn's behind them, she directed Lisa to the other side of the door, and, gingerly, pulled the knob and threw the door open, and fanned the darkness with the muzzle of her machine gun.

Nothing jumped out to blast them, nor did anything explode, but that was no guarantee of long-term safety. Whispering, "Follow my lead." Serena carefully probed into the darkness. Stepping into the mercenaries' foyer, one boot at a time, both hands on her weapon. Everything seemed to be all clear - for now. She took a quick look over her shoulder, just to make sure they hadn't been followed, and finding naught but crusty-looking rubberneckers in the diner, watching them with idle curiosity. Serena felt all the world like a SWAT cop doing a drug raid, which, she mused with a smile, was ironic considering where they were.

This definitely used to be a police station. Serena could still see remnants of it. A long front desk dominated the room, with a frame that, once upon a time, probably had bulletproof glass in it, but had long since been empty. Rows of chairs and coffee tables lined the room, with little fake plastic trees to break up the monotony. It looked more professional than Serena had expected; the tiles looked clean, and the sky-blue walls had been painstakingly cleaned of the prior owners' graffiti.

There was a door behind the desk that had a large padlock on it, and besides that, there was one way deeper into the hideout - a set of double doors, right where the desk curved into the back wall, open just a tiny crack. Satisfied the lobby was clear, Serena repeated the breaching protocol, stacking up on the door, gingerly opening it and scanning it with the muzzles of their weapons - and Lisa's torch, the cell phone placed into an empty magazine pouch, just big enough the flashlight could poke out. Serena breathed a sigh of relief - it looked like they were still in the clear.

The corridor looked like it was an area with a lot of traffic. Side passages drifted off into bathrooms, storage closets, record rooms, questioning rooms, and a few private offices, full of ancient, neglected furniture, and a rec room, with a snooker table, couches, a boxy trideo set, posters of scantily clad women, and a few beer cans strewn about.

A stairwell marked the end of the hall, behind another set of double doors, at the centre of a T-junction in the hall. The rightmost hallway had nothing of note, but the left terminated in a doorway to a large bullpen office, in a persistent state of disuse, the equipment and furnishings long-neglected - when they weren't broken, or missing. What hadn't been neglected was the firefighting station, visible through the open doorway, and built with reflective material that caught the splash of Lisa's torch. There were a pair of fire extinguishers and an alarm panel, but what Serena's eyes drifted to was the fire axe. Even behind the plexiglass panel, the edge of the blade shone menacingly in the gloom. Serena found an uneasy smile coming to her face. Fire?... Well, she found that unlikely, but, if they ever needed to get through a door in a low-tech way...

Serena and Lisa opened, scanned, and cleared the double doors into the stairwell. There were stairs up, and stairs down, and they opted to go up - there would be less to search above them, after all. Weapons at the ready, the two girls carefully ascended each step, climbing onto each one with utmost care, as though each one concealed a tripwire - or would break under their foot, from sheer force of age. At the very top was an antechamber that led into another hall. It was smaller than the lobby, and, to Serena's eye, more lived in. It was subtle - this place looked like it was cleaned more often, the doors looked more well-used, a few motivational posters adorned the walls, and, concerningly, so did a few bullet holes. It put a chill up her spine - it meant either someone here wasn't too big on gun safety, or they weren't the first gang to have tried this.

The second floor seemed to be a command centre of sorts. The doors hung idly open and revealed the interconnected, closely linked floor plan. Directly opposite the stairs, separated from the antechamber with a frosted glass panel, and a door the girls stepped through, was a conference room, with worn-looking roller chairs around an oval conference table that had seen it's fair share of abuse from bored mercenaries; covered in knife-marks and carvings, of idle musings, jokes, and many tic-tac-toe boards, and the first bits of computer Serena had seen in here, a laptop left on the table, hooked up to a holographic projector on the right-hand wall.

The conference room had two doors in the back wall, and, going on intuition, Serena chose left, and she and her friend stepped into the room, machine guns at the ready, and their eyes went wide, and mouths agape at what they'd found. The reinforced room was bisected by a large screen of thick, bulletproof glass - on the other side of which, Serena and Lisa could see a large, very well-stocked armoury.

helves and tables and racks were completely stocked with munitions and equipment. Huge boxes of magazines and crates of all sorts of grenades filled the room - fragmentation, smoke, incendiary, and some exotic ones Serena had never seen before. There were whole crates of rectangular, plastic explosive breaching charges, neatly packaged optic sights, rows of body armour, and the weapons - oh, there were so many weapons. A crate of handguns was practically spilling onto the floor. Over a dozen of the bullethose submachine guns she'd seen the mercs use in the hotel waited on racks. Serena could make out a flamethrower, a tube-shaped anti-tank rocket launcher, three heavy machine guns, and...

Serena raised an eyebrow, up against the glass, gaze drifting to a strange weapon in the back. A large, heavy weapon, with a long barrel, a rounded muzzle brake, and a heavy-looking shroud near the boxy receiver. Ontop was a large, sophisticated looking optic sight, on the bottom was a folding bipod, and it looked too huge and unwieldy for anyone to hold, let alone shoot...

"What is that?" Lisa asked, her hands up against the glass, too, a hint of curiosity and concern in her voice.

"I'm not sure..." Serena replied, "It looks like a scaled-up machine gun." Her red eyes drifted over towards the heavy-looking door that separated them from the the cornucopia of weapons. "I want to get a better look at it." She said, shaking her head. "It's giving me a bad feeling."

Unlike the front door, the gate to the armoury betrayed no weakness' to Serena's red eye. It looked to be a similar model of secure door, but it lacked any visible access panel, and of course, it was too sturdy to kick in - Serena tried. Stymied, but not defeated, Serena pulled her cell phone out again, reasoning that, since they were a team...

"Anabel, can you unlock the armoury door?" She asked. A few moments later, a chime came, signalling Anabel's response.

"Why?"

"I want to get a closer look at one of their weapons." Serena replied aloud. "I've got a hunch..."

There was a short, uncomfortable pause, before Anabel sent back, "Okay, but quit messing around and find somewhere to plug in, already." Serena just groaned, and put her cell back, and left the armoury, for now, trying to find a server or something for Anabel to jack into, an odd feeling of concern coming over her. Anabel sounded impatient, but there was something unsaid. Something odd. Something she couldn't quite put her tongue on.

The armoury had two more doorways. The one opposite the door to the conference room led into what Serena judged by the large, ornate wooden desk that dominated the room to have once been the station commander's office. Now under new management, judging by the way the nameplate was scratched out, and Corto's name was painted on in cursive script, and he'd clearly decorated the office to his tastes. =

The office had a few couches and beanbag chairs, a massive stereo system, red shag pile carpet under the boots, and posters on the walls. Lots of them. Macho stuff - pretty girls, fast cars, jumping big cats, but Serena's eye found itself drawn to the one, just to the right (her left) of the desk. Visual content alone didn't distinguish it; the poster was a beach pinup of some curvaceous blonde model, wearing the sort of skimpy bikini Serena would have been embarrassed to leave the house in. No, it was the sheer size that caught her eye. It spanned from ceiling to floor and took up a whole section of wall, and Serena found herself cracking a wry smile. It was probably an 'I read too many penny dreadfuls' line of thinking, but she couldn't help but wonder what it covered up. Maybe a safe or something.

After making sure the office was clear - they had, long since gotten the impression Anabel was right, and there was indeed, no one home - Serena and Lisa doubled back and went into the other door in the armoury; this one directly opposite the secure door, and Serena found an excited smile coming to her face, as they opened the door - and found what they'd been looking for.

Serena suspected this room originally had another purpose. Evidence storage, maybe? Whatever it had once been, though, was not replaced with an anarchic slapdash of computer equipment, monitors and cables lining the walls. A hackers' lair if she ever saw one - especially when Lisa hit the lights and flooded the room with a violet glow that put a nervous feeling in Serena's stomach. It reminded her her first visit into Anabel's realm. Beyond the lights, it was a place she felt a strange kinship with.

Any hacker would feel at home here. It was cramped, messy, and full of gadgets and computers on various states of disassembly, lining the workbenches. The shelves were crammed with dataslates, devices, manuals, diskettes, drives, and risque foreign figurines, of the sort you wouldn't want your mother looking at, reminding the girls that it wasn't just a hacker's lair - they were trespassing on a boy's lair, as well.

Serena manoeuvred carelessly (and, she had to admit, a bit spitefully - this place belonged to someone who'd tried to kill them, after all) through the clutter, knocking a pile of diskettes to the floor accidentally, as she looked around for something to plug into. She was rather spoiled for choice. Vic (she assumed this room was his - who else would it belong to?) had dozens of computers alone, buzzing with the spinning of fans and hard drives. She wasn't even counting all the slates and other gadgets, that would doubtlessly surrender important information. However, what Serena knew would get the best results was the big, boxy server in the corner. Covered in blinking lights, buzzing with activity like a wasp's nest. Nearly as tall as she was, and full of... Information, like a digital treasure chest.

Lisa wordlessly handed over her bag of tricks, and she set her cyberdeck down on a free section of workbench and plugged her machine in. Almost the moment she did, all the lights on the server went off... Then, they all came back on all at once, and Serena took a step back, a bit confused. She turned to her cyberdeck, and opened the monitor, and there was Anabel's face, a very cross, impatient look coming over the ghost, and Serena froze, a very concerned expression coming on her face.

"What is it?" Anabel asked, with impatience, and barely restrained ire.

"Are you alright?-"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?!" Anabel snapped, and Serena flinched, and, almost as quickly, the ghost's icy, blue gaze drifted down, into the bottom of the screen. She looked mad, but, in the display, Serena could see a hint of something else underneath...

"Because you look restless." Serena found herself responding. With more honest than sense, she mused, but she was beginning to feel Mrs. Blackwell had the right idea in being... Not stern, but... Frank.

"I..." Anabel paused, her expression softening a bit, turning somewhere between embarrassed and oddly distant. "Well, you and Evelyn told me to think about myself, and I have, and..."

She felt a bit relieved to hear that - but the unspoken part was making Serena a bit nervous. "And what?"

"It's not important." Anabel said, and Serena cracked an amused, heavy-lidded smile. She'd remembered telling her mom that same thing, once. "I've unlocked the armoury door. I don't want to distract you guys." She said. Serena knew Anabel meant - 'I don't want to talk about it.'

"Can you get the lights, too?" Lisa asked, from the doorway, a cutesy smile on her face. "My phone's going to run out of battery, soon."

Anabel said nothing, but Serena heard a distant click, and a dazzling light exploded from the door ajar behind them, and she turned - and regretted it, flinching back, needing to cover her eyes. When she opened them again, she took a deep breath, and found the armoury lit up with a soft yellow glow - in sharp contrast with the dim, soporific blue outside.

"So, have you found anything?" Lisa asked, and, on the screen, Anabel shook her head and sighed.

No, not yet." She sounded distant, and focused. "I've been able to access the lower-level subroutines that control the building itself - doors, AC, lights, and so on, but the important data on the server is all encrypted. It's going to take me a while to crack, so you guys should go and look at the gun you wanted to." Serena just took a deep breath - she could tell when she was being told she ought to go. Wishing Anabel luck - and advising her to be careful, since none of them knew what sort of security measures were on Victor's server in the first place, Serena and Lisa left the den and went back into the armoury, through the now unlocked, heavy steel door that kept the weapons out of their hands, passing rows of firearms and crates of grenades, and went to the back - examining the strange heavy weapon that had caught Serena's eye.

It hung from a rack, all by itself, under stark, white fluorescent lamps, the smell of gunpowder tickling the vampire's nose. Now that she'd gotten a closer look, she only now realized how huge the weapon was. Lengthwise - muzzle to buttstock - it was almost as tall as she was! Her earlier impression of it being a scaled up machine gun had been sort of accurate.

The long, boxy receiver resembled that of a .50 cal Browning Machine Gun. She'd occasionally trained with it - but had only ever seen that weapon mounted to vehicles or static emplacements. The Brownings she was used to also lacked the large, boxy optic sight this one had - an 'M2440 target-tracking optical gunsight', from the embossed letters on the side. The weapon had a long foregrip on the bottom, and a pistol grip, rather than butterfly triggers. "I think that thing's supposed to be man-portable." Serena found herself saying."

"It can't be." Lisa incredulously responded, leaning in further to get a better look. "It looks like it weighs a hundred kilos!... At least!"

"But Corto's a cyborg, remember? He could probably lift and fire it just fine." Serena replied, leaning in as well, pointing out the weapon's pistol grip, foregrip, barrel, and gas tube - all of which bore weld marks, as well as pointing pointed out seams in the construction, where, to her eye, it looked like the gun could be quickly taken apart and put back together. "I think it's been mortified to be easier to conceal, too."

"What for?..." Lisa asked, as they examined the details, looking for an answer on the heavy weapon - and finding it in the engravings, right under the ejection port. The serial number, to Serena's utter lack of surprise, had long since been filed off, as was another long string of text that, if restored, would likely read along the lines of 'PROPERTY OF THE ARMED FORCES OF THE UNITED FEDERATION OF COMMONWEALTH NATIONS."

The rest of it explained a great deal. "Liverpool Armoury L2048 Self-Loading Anti-tank cannon..." Serena read, her tone trailing off and becoming more worried. An icy feeling crept into her blood, and an uneasy look came on her face - matched by her redheaded colleague. "Calibre. 25x140mm AP shell." She read, before quickly bolting and searching. Serena wouldn't need to go far - underneath the bench, below the autocannon's rack, there was a whole case of shells, with a separate compartment for the massive looking drum magazines.

Serena picked out one of the shells, holding it up to the light, both girls looking at the massive munition in shock. It had a green steel case, and a silvery spitzer round poking out of it - the whole package was larger than a coke bottle! A quick look at the label on the crate identified it as the expected 25x140mm shell, but with an additional descriptor. "Penetrator," Serena read off, taking a deep breath. "Depleted Uranium." The two girls looked back to eachother, an uncomfortable expression in their eyes, while Serena put the shell on the table. (primer-side down, so it stuck up like a large bowling pin) This was military-grade stuff, designed to punch right through armoured vehicles...

"I think we found the murder weapon." Lisa flatly responded. It all lined up in Serena's head, with Yuri's story about the attackers. The loud pom-pom sound, rather than the usual 'bang, bang,' the way the shells went right through Jonas' Rolls-Royce... Her red eyes went back to the autocannon, hanging forlornly from the wall like a headsman's axe.

"If this wasn't them," Serena took a deep breath. "No. This has to be the smoking gun. This isn't a coincidence - you don't just find things like this laying on the street!" She turned around, her gaze going back out through the bulletproof glass, into the violet glow of Vic's lair. "I think we should tell Anabel we've found the killers." Serena said, her tone turning grim.

To Serena's surprise, Anabel took the news with little emotion, responding with an "Alright." Her expression was vacant and unfocused and her mind was someplace else. Serena just took a deep breath - she ought to be expecting that sort of reply. Not only was she trying to break the Ecstasy Battalion's encryption, but, she'd had a lot to mull over. Serena stood idly in the doorway, an uncomfortable, knotted feeling in her stomach. She knew Anabel needed her space right now, but couldn't help but feel concerned.

"How's the decryption coming along?" Serena changed the subject. Still, she'd expected more than that. The revelation they'd found the weapon that (probably) had killed Anabel's father had, thus far, failed to provoke more than acknowledgement in her; she remained deep in focus.

"It's hard." She flatly replied, and Serena found herself surprised. She walked over to the her cyberdeck and looked at Anabel's face on the screen, her expression heavy, and deeply concentrating, her blue eyes burning with determination and... Serena raised an eyebrow. The earlier assumption of Anabel's emotions hadn't been entirely accurate - there was a burning anger in her eyes. "Vic's name is all over this system." She said. "And he's got some nasty ICE protecting it."

"Can you handle it?" Serena found herself asking, and Anabel briefly broke focus to shoot her a frown through the screen.

"It's a matter of 'when,' not an 'if.'" Hard and to the point. "It'll be a while, but he can't stand up to me forever."

"Do you need any help?" Serena said, as she looked around for another machine, one she could use, but Anabel just shook her virtual head.

"I'll be fine. Just don't distract me." She sounded irate and a bit cocky, and it was the perfect thing to snap Serena's concerned mood and put an indignant look on her face, and a wry smile on her lips. Anabel cracked a precious grin to match it, and Serena just sighed. Now, she was getting back into more familiar territory.

"So, what now?" Lisa asked, as Serena turned around. She'd followed her back into the den, and had already made herself comfortable on one of Vic's roller chairs. Submachine gun unslung, and resting on one of the workbenches, and the tablet in her hands, quickly taking notes.

Serena shrugged her shoulders. "You heard Anabel. I guess it's a waiting game for now." She adjusted adjusting the sling of the MP12 on her shoulder, and went for the door, pausing in the frame to look over her shoulder and ask, "Can you keep an eye on her?"

Lisa looked up from her dataslate, with a raised eyebrow. "What are you gonna do, then?"

"I'm gonna go out for a smoke." Serena sighed, passing through the doorframe. For a given definition of 'outside', but still. She wasn't claustrophobic, but this whole place was threatening to make her so.

"Nasty habit." Lisa said, and Serena stopped again, turning back to her friend, and taking a deep sigh, a bit embarrassed - and irate, while Lisa just wore a cattish smile, and adjusted her glasses with her stylus.

"Yeah, I know." Serena just rolled her eyes and headed out. "I'll quit someday." She said, walking back to the conference room, heading for the stairs. It ticked her off because she knew the creepy little stalker was right. It wasn't one of her best qualities, but...

Serena ran a tongue over her teeth as she cleared the conference room, back in the antechamber, and through the doors down, feeling the sting as flesh ran over sharp fangs, and she needed to take another deep breath. Focus. Don't pay the black, clawing feeling in your soul much mind. Wait, she told herself. As soon as they left, she'd make her excuses and rush home as fast as she could... Compared to her need for blood, having a nicotine problem felt inconsequential.

With the lights on, the ground floor felt... Oddly homey. It felt weird to say, but the Ecstasy Battalion had made this abandoned police station feel rather cozy. It wasn't like a squat, either - there was only a bit of clutter and, in the light, the fact that someone had scoured the graffiti from the walls was very obvious - she could still see bits of the tags. Even the lobby felt oddly welcoming for a police station - and especially for a mercenary hideout. It was the light, Serena mused. The warm, soft yellow lamps made it feel like home, especially against the ethereal blue of outside. She kept a hand on her weapon, just in case.

Passing through the front door felt surreal. Not being a native of this underground town, Serena had expected the cool kiss of winter's air as she went into the street, but was hammered with the smell of smoke and fried food and beer, and her eyes filled with that dim, blue glow. Back in the digital dream - or, She took a deep breath. Some sort of anarchic, technocratic digital nightmare. She still couldn't make up her mind if she disliked it or not - but was leaning towards hate.

Serena took the black packet out from inside of her coat. Nightsticks - her preferred brand. Identifiable by the red, elegant script and knights' head company trade mark - which, after the encounter in Schwarzwalder Manor, she was beginning to views a bit differently. The cigarettes were distinctly black - hence the name - and, with a flick of the hand, she pulled one out of the packet with her teeth, and just as quickly, swapped the pack for her lighter and struck the steel, lighting one end, and leaning back against the wall and contributing to the smoky smell in the air, relaxed - but alert, eyes scanning both sides of the boulevard for trouble, feeling the relaxing wash of nicotine in her system.

Serena didn't have the best track record for smoke breaks in bad neighbourhoods - and, interesting and exciting and slightly headache inducing as this place was, it was as bad a neighbourhood as they got - even before considering a gang of mercs was out for her blood. After getting her throat cut, and letting Gabriel surprise her, she didn't feel like taking any chances, and Serena smoked with her left hand and let the index finger on her right hover outside the trigger guard of her MP-12, ready to snap into action and loose a hail of armour piercing bullets.

So, Serena tried to avoid getting too lost in thought. Eyes on the street, blowing out clouds of smoke into the air, ears tuned to the sound of the world, trying to hear anything unusual over the drone of the vents, the murmur of conversation, the hiss of the fryers, and old lounge songs about love coming from the jukebox. She felt more like a sentry than someone out on a smoke break. That isn't to say she wasn't thinking at all. She did let her mind drift a bit, mulling over the mission, wondering exactly what Anabel would do once they were done. The ghost girl had been thinking about that quite hard - and now, so was she.

Serena began to wonder what they'd find. Something to conclusively prove the mercs had killed Jonas? Something to lead them back to whoever had hired them to kill her and Lisa?... If it turned out they hadn't killed Jonas - or, if they found no evidence... What then? Well, Serena groaned. Then they'd have come down here and braved danger for nothing, and completely wasted their time, and they'd need to have a long chat with Phil Edinburgh. What if they found what they were looking for, though?

Serena's trigger finger twitched, and an uncomfortable lead weight sank into her stomach, remembering the conversation they'd had with Anabel in her digital realm. About revenge. By the looks of things - she peered down at her automatic weapon - they'd likely have to be the executors of that revenge. The Ecstasy Battalion?... She couldn't really object - they had a bone to pick with those mercs for trying to kill them. It was Anabel's own revenge that gave her a bad feeling.

She took another drag on her cigarette, staring into Anatolyn's diner, watching the patrons get a bit rowdy and agitated about something. What ABOUT Anabel? Serena mused. It was something even the ghost had been reluctant to think of, and it made her a bit uncomfortable. The obsession with revenge, she felt wouldn't lead to anything good, but now she was wondering what to think about that - HOW to think about that... How to think about Anabel? In their time together, she'd gotten used to thinking of her as a young girl, but...

Serena adjusted the sling of her weapon, an uneasy feeling in her stomach and an uneasy feeling on her face. Neither of them liked confronting the fact Anabel wasn't a girl at all. She was a computer program. A digital consciousness, modelled after a dead girl, and violently torn from her creator and... Serena wasn't even sure what to call it. What was the human Anabel Schwarzwalder to the digital one? Her template? Her base? Her organic counterpart? Serena just took a long drag off her cigarette. Whatever she was, poor Anabel was dead. Caught in the crossfire in her father's killing, leaving behind a restless virtual shade.

What would come after they'd found the killers? The question bounced through her mind like a restless pinball. Would Anabel be satisfied and leave the mainframe?... If she did, what then? Would she join all the other ghost programs in what Serena had heard called the 'Raw Matrix?' The digital space between spaces, the rolling sea of information that lay between individual servers, islands in a thrashing digital storm. Her eyes lidded. It seemed unlikely. Anabel struck her as too determined to merely slink off and be forgotten once she was done, but...

Anabel was a program. They were both loath to acknowledge it, but that was the uncomfortable fact. What could she even do? She was stuck in a digitized form, and they both knew it - and Serena wondered if she was thinking it, too. It was like she was truly dead, and her shade was stuck, not quite in the world, not quite beyond. She couldn't exist at all in physical space, and couldn't have a normal life after this, even if she wanted to.

Serena took a long drag off her cigarette. It made her uncomfortable to think about, but her mind kept wandering, an immense sorrow beginning to fill her heart at the ghost girl's plight - who, she realized, she'd begun to think of as a friend. Anabel wouldn't be able to draw breath, feel the rays of the sun upon her face, walk upon the Earth, hear boots rapping distantly on the tile somewhere far off-

Serena's eyes flashed wide, her consciousness thrown back into the world so hard she heard the metaphysical cracks, both hands suddenly grasping her weapon, finger on the trigger, cigarette between her teeth. That... Hadn't been her imagination. She turned to her right, where the sound of boots was coming from, echoing off the walls, filling the boulevard, barely audible over the din from Anatolyn's, but... Serena laughed nervously, muzzle pointing towards it, the restaurant... Suddenly strangely empty. Maybe that was how she'd heard it. It was quieter now.

Her heart was beginning to beat uncomfortably strongly in her chest. A thump-thump-thump in rhythm with the rap-rap-rap of boots, getting louder and louder, closer and closer, heart pumping her nanite-infused blood through her veins, and she found herself in a tactical stance. Legs splayed out for stability, the folding stock extended and pressed into her shoulder, one eye looking down the sights, and the other watching the boulevard, her view obstructed where the street turned.

Maybe she was getting too jumpy, she mused - but didn't take that thought far enough to lower her weapon. The last time something like this happened, it was just Gabriel, but... A tense smile came to her face. This wasn't the time or place to let up. She doubted she'd run into the happy-go-lucky scientist down here - it was probably just a group of toughs. Or maybe a group of slum tourists she was about to terrify. A nervous laugh escaped her lips. Either option would be a bad idea to point guns at...

A bead of tense, acrid sweat ran down her neck. Serena didn't believe any of it. Her heart pounded in her chest, her trigger finger felt restless, uncomfortably, and the hungry beast in her psyche beginning to claw at her. She was getting a very bad feeling. It was probably just grasping at straws, trying to find something to confirm her paranoia, but the way they were walking, steps ringing n her ears like cannon blasts, felt too purposeful and disciplined to be someone harmless. Seconds passed like hours. The sound of boots on the brick road was deafening, and Serena's eyes went wide, her heart skipped a beat, and her mouth went agape, letting the cigarette fall, as, around the corner, a group of figures came into view. Four men and a woman. All clad in long, black leather trenchcoats, draped over armour vests, weapons in hand.

It was the second time she'd seen them in person - and the first time she'd seen all five of them in the flesh, but Serena would have recognized the Ecstasy Battalion anywhere. They all walked in a line, and, from left to right, Serena saw the humourless and dry looking Redmond with his dreads, Pascal with his eyeglasses, Diane very close to him, idly flicking a lock of blonde hair, Corto, towering over his companions with his cyberware and dark glasses, infinitely more imposing in person, and finally, Vic, blue streak in his hair, precocious smile on his face, and a sharp looking cyberdeck slung across his back. The men who'd tried to kill her and Lisa, and had, in all likelihood, killed Jonas Schwarzwalder and his daughter...

They all paused, eyes going wide with looks of alarm as Serena entered their line of sight, flagging the five of them with the muzzle of her machine gun - surprised as she was, by the looks of things. Their encounter was a split second, but to Serena, it felt like an eternity. Her heart threatening to burst from her chest, and her feet felt leaden and welded to the floor, but... She held the weapon tight, as the realization came to her, and did a one-eighty. She was out in the open with no cover, but so were they - and of the six of them in this gunfight, she was the only one with her weapon shouldered, and enemies in her sights.

It all went by in a blur. Before she realized it, Serena heard the rhythmic banging of automatic fire, felt the recoil bash into her shoulder, and see the muzzle flash in her eyes as each round fired off, blue-tipped 5mm rounds blazing in the azure glow, the ammo counter rapidly counting down from thirty as she dumped the magazine into the group of her enemies, who erupted into a panic under her flurry of lead.

Of course, being highly trained, professional killers, 'panic' meant something different. Nearly the instant Serena had started firing, the team sprung into action. Redmond dove for what little cover could be found behind the extended patio of Anatolyn's, Pascal pulled Diane to the floor, and Corto needed to quite literally push his team's hacker out of the line of fire, erupting into profanity and as Serena's bullets menaced the space they'd been a moment ago, spewing fragments of brick and steel and plaster dust, and Serena's eyes went wide in shock, her finger loosening off the trigger. The ammunition counter on the side of her gun read '11' - and, from the lack of blood, she'd hit nothing but air.

Despite not scoring a single hit, the ball was still in Serena's court - but her advantage was alarmingly tenuous. She knew for a fact that it could evaporate with a snap of her fingers, and already, the mercenaries were beginning to react. Corto and Vic were still behind the corner, but from the Patio, Redmond had his machine gun at the ready, and Pascal and Diane, prone on the brick road, were taking aim, and Serena realized she was still in the open, and, quite liking being alive, she scrambled to get inside, barrelling through the doorway moments before her opponents opened fire and pushing on the slabs with inhuman strength, the ring of bullets in her ears, and sweat running down her forehead, slamming the door shut behind her and quickly slamming the lock button, eyes widening as she realized how close she'd been to bullet riddled death. Again.

Serena didn't have much time to muse on the issue, as the Ecstasy Battalion reacted quickly, rushing to the front of their hideout and pouring bullets through the barred windows, shattering glass and forcing Serena to dive for the floor, her training taking over as she crawled on her stomach to the hallway, clenching her teeth, hoping the errant gunfire hadn't hit either of their colleagues - or the server Anabel was looking through; the whole reason they'd came here. Evidently, Vic had the same thought - Serena heard a young, very angry voice from outside yell, "QUIT SHOOTING INTO THE CEILING, YOU RETARDS! YOU'LL HIT MY EQUIPMENT!"

The gunfire briefly abated, and Serena found herself sardonically laughing as she swiped up the opportunity, springing up and running for the corridor and putting a few bullets into the window behind her, rewarded with a burst of swearing from outside. The moment she went through the double doors she slammed them closed and threw the lock, and for good measure, went into the mercs' breakroom and pulled out a couch, barricading the door, and taking a brief second to gather her thoughts and plot a course of action.

She neither wanted - nor had the time - to think for long. Serena already knew how easy it had been to bypass the secure door out front.... She shook her head, and clenched her teeth. It hadn't held her off for long - in all likelihood, it'd take Vic, the one who'd installed it, even less time to crack it. A flash of choler and embarrassment shot up her neck. She ought to have been suspicious - breaking in had been too damn easy...

Serena quickly darted for the stairs and swapped a fresh magazine into her gun, putting the depleted one back in her webbing. This was an ambush! She groaned, and shook her head. The damn mercs were waiting for them, and, like hounds closing in for the kill, they'd cornered her in their hideout!... Anabel's voice rang out in her ears. There was one way in or out of this place - and all three of them were on the wrong side of it. A cold feeling settled in her stomach, knees feeling wobbly as she ran. Five professional killers now stood between them and the only way out, and she had no idea how they were even going to survive - let alone escape.

If nothing else, Serena reasoned, they needed to survive. She just found herself racing through the doors, and up the steps, screaming out, "They're here! They're here!" Like she was a sentry on night watch, trying to rouse her comrades in arms before the Huns fell upon them with lance and arrow. All the while as she ran, Serena was hoping - praying, if she was honest, with all her heart that Lisa hadn't been wounded by a stray bullet through the floor.

To Serena's relief - and joy - her friend was fine. Unharmed, as a matter of fact. The mercs' bullets had mostly gone through the floor of Corto's office in the next room, as it turned out. Lisa was very rattled though - and Serena was very thankful she'd had the foresight to announce she was coming in, and that she'd taught her about trigger discipline earlier - because when she'd barged into the den, she'd found Lisa hiding under a table, a rattled, panicky expression on her face - and the muzzle of her weapon trained on the door.

Lisa took a deep breath and lowered her weapon, and, once Serena calmed down, she let out a nervous laugh, but quickly got down to business, fixing up her scarf and taking a deep breath as she entered the violet hacker's den - where they might have to make a last stand, she morosely mused. "We're-" Serena tried to say, all hyped up, nerves sizzling with fire and panic, but Lisa cut her off with a stern expression that failed to conceal the look of barely restrained panic in her eyes.

"I know. I heard the gunfire." She said, tone snappish as she extricated herself from under Vic's desk. "The mercs?"

"It's the mercs." Serena explained, Lisa standing up just in time to flinch. "They sprung an ambush and ran us into their headquarters." She added, with a deep sigh and an uncomfortable look on her face. They both knew what that meant. Trapped. There was a painful second as Lisa just blanked out, staring at her friend with a thousand-yard stare, completely locked up, and a flash of choler and irritation rushed through Serena's veins, and she grasped her friends' shoulders, giving Lisa a quick shake and yelling. "Don't go all deer in the headlights on me!" She was on the verge of panic too, she realized.

"I'm not! I'm not!" Lisa lied, snapping back to reality and pulling herself away and fixing the glasses Serena had nearly knocked to the floor, trying to compose herself - with limited success. "Focus, Serena! Did we get set up?!"

Serena found her gaze drifting to the server, red eyes heavy-lidded. "Its..." She took a deep breath. "We might've been. This place was too easy to break into, and the mercs - conveniently - weren't home when we came. They looked like they were expecting us to be here, but I don't think they counted on me hanging out on their doorstep to meet them."

There was a pause - then Serena flinched back at the sudden change in Lisa's emotions. Panic switched to indignant fury as Lisa tightly grasped her weapon, as Serena took another step back and she yelled, "Phil, you rat!"

Serena just looked confused - and panicked. "What?!"

"It's his fault! He set us up!" Lisa yelled back, emotions reaching a fever pitch as she leaned in towards her friend - still holding her machine gun tightly. "He told us to go here in the first place! We never should have trusted that wise-ass perverted philandering manwhore who said Gordon dumped me-!"

"It wasn't him." Anabel piped up, cold and distant, making Serena turned surprised and Lisa confused, both girls looking to the cyberdeck screen, the device resting on Vic's desk, still plugged into the server, beeping and buzzing away as Anabel filed away at the layers of digital security within.

"You sound pretty certain." Serena raised an eyebrow.

"He's just another merc." Anabel explained, with a dismissive tone. "He doesn't have the strings to pull something like this. If this is a setup, then someone else organized it. He probably just pointed you in the right direction... And...

"And what?" Serena asked, to her surprise, Anabel's expression softened, turning a bit embarrassed, and unable to make eye contact.

"He likes you, Serena." Anabel said, and Serena's eyes went wide. "Like, for real. He said as much. That's why I'm sure he's not behind this. He likes you too much to try to kill you. He was serious about it. I can tell."

"That..." Her heart sank. A deep breath entered her lungs and came right out, and Serena's expression turned flustered and deeply embarrassed and very irritated. "Anabel, he was just flirting!" Her tone harsh and distrustful, and very, very embarrassed - her face going beet red in the violet gloom, relieving Lisa's panicked, furious mood, just a tiny bit.

Now, was definitely not the time to think about it. Phil Edinburgh was quite handsome, she had to admit, but- "And I doubt he was being serious!" Serena groaned, and crossed her arms. "He's a total cad. He was probably trying to mess with us, anyways." She said, and Lisa let out a snicker and she paid it no mind. Serena liked to think of herself as incredulous enough to not let a pretty face distract her from the fact that he was an irritating louse who, whether or not the ambush was his doing, had gotten them into this mess in the first place.

"Just listen to me." A flash of choler snapped into Anabel's demeanour as she struck a frown and crossed her arms. "I know Phil Edinburgh is an ass, but I don't think this is his fault... Mostly his fault, anyways."

"So who set us up, then?..." Lisa adjusted her glasses, more composed.

"Whoever the killer is, that's who." Serena cut into the tangent they'd been stuck in, irritated, and violently changing the subject as she leaned towards the server, hand reaching out for the cable that connected her cyberdeck - and Anabel - to Victor's data. "But we can work this out later, we need to find a way out of here-"

"No!"

Serena's red eyes went wide, and she paused, scant millimetres from yanking the cable out, goosebumps on the back of her neck. She stood right back up and turned back to the monitor, a fiery cocktail of emotion crashing through her veins, but her face betrayed the overpowering ingredient: indignation. Serena suddenly looked angry as she glared into the screen, Anabel still reaching a hand out, visibly desperate and maddened.

"What do you mean, no?!"

"You can't unplug it!" Anabel yelled out, sounding dejected, yet, at the same time, there were traces of haughty condescension that sprinkled some uncomfortable feeling into the cauldron of rage that was Serena's stomach. "Not now!"

"This is insane!"

"I have to know!" Anabel's portrait on the screen was wracked with mania, leaning in as far as the application would allow, her eyes wide, her pupils madly darting around, unsteady, unfocused, and her voice beginning to waver. "Please! I have to know who killed my father! I... I can't!-"

"Anabel, you're going to get us killed!" Serena leaned in over the screen, a frustrated, bitterly angry look on her face, that soon faded as she thought for a moment and came to a sudden, irritating realization. "Wait, why am I even arguing with you?!" She yelled and turned back to the server and put her hand around the cable, as Anabel's expression on the screen turned maddened and despondent "Anabel, we're leaving! We're going to die if we stay here!"

"How the hell are we going to leave in the first place?!" Lisa cut in, and once more, right as she was about to pull the plug, her eyes went wide, and a nervous bead of sweat ran down her forehead. "There's one way out of this place and it's through the mercs!"

"Please, Serena..." Anabel added, still desperate but more... Strangely collected now. "I have to do this... I..." She closed her eyes, as Serena's stomach tied itself into knots - Anabel looked on the verge of tears. "I can't give up here. Not now! We're so close. I can feel it!"

"But we're gonna die if we stay here."

"I know a way out." Anabel said, and Serena's eyes went wide and she leaned into the screen one more time, and this time, it was her turn to leer into the screen with a look of maddened desperation.

"How."

"After."

Another flash of volcanic choler shot up Serena's veins. "You're going to get us killed!"

"You can't die." Anabel responded, and Serena flinched back, anger draining from her face, swapped for an odd, melancholer feeling as she got a good look at the ghost. Anabel's eyes were closed, and she looked desperately, profoundly sad. "You're... Serena, Lisa, you're some of the only people who've ever helped me."

"I..."

"Please, just give me a little time..." Anabel pleaded, desperation in her voice. "Just a bit. I promise. It won't be long..."

It was madness. Serena found herself rooted to the floor, her boots feeling leaden and her stomach filled with the stuff. She needed to act - she should have been desperately searching for an escape route before the mercs stormed in, but... Serena took a deep breath, a bubbling cauldron of emotion burning within her. It was Anabel - she just seemed so... Sad, desperate. She was suffering - and... Whatever she really was. Even if her rational brain was telling her, she's just a computer program... Serena realized, it was still hurting her to see her like this.

"Fine." Serena found herself shocked to hear that escape her lips. She took a deep breath, resolving herself to this... Madness, driven by Anabel's feelings and some odd instinct she couldn't pin down. "But how are we supposed to hold them off?!" She said. "They've got a hacker with them. I locked the front door, but if I could get through it with a GUI, then-"

"I know." Anabel coldly responded, her emotions slingshotting again and turning more cold, as her attention returned to the digital realm. "He's in the system right now - I'm not giving him an easy time."

A brief flash of hope came onto Serena's face. "You can stop him?"

Anabel shook her head, dashing Serena's hopes as she said, "I can delay him." The vampire turned more tense and irritated. "I'm splitting my attention between breaking the encryption and keeping the door locked. I can't keep him out of the door forever, but I can buy you a few minutes of time to get ready."

"Get ready?..." Serena repeated the words to herself aloud, and paused to think for a moment, before turning to the door, back to the armoury... And the revelation came unto her, as though whispered in hr ear by an angel, and she seemed to visibly shift. To Lisa's shock, she quickly grabbed her friend by the wrist and pulled on her, eyes wide and an "eep!" escaping Lisa's lips, sprinting into the armoury and yelling at Anabel to be quick.

A massive, dry smile crept up onto Serena's face as she dragged Lisa in through the secure door, past the bulletproof glass, the smell of gunpowder tickling her nose, as her red eyes scanned the massive stash of munitions. Rows and rows of firearms, magazines and bullets. Heavy weapons and grenades and bombs of all sorts, and a renewed vigour flashed in her eyes.

They had, at their fingertips, enough arms and equipment here to start a gang war. To Lisa's worry, Serena - like a young kid's first time playing violent video games, immediately found herself drawn to the heaviest weapon she could conceivably shoot. A large, bulky machine gun with a rectangular heat shield, and a reinforced buttstock at the end of its boxy receiver. The serial numbers were gone - likely erased by whatever gun runner had sold it to the mercs to begin with - but the rest of the raised letters were very reassuring. "General Dynamics." Serena read off. "Machine Gun, General Purpose, M660, .308 Calibre. It felt reassuring in her hands - and moreso when she snapped on an ammunition box to the side, and pulled the charging handle, loading the first round - of many.

The Ecstasy Battalion definitely didn't count on the girls having gotten into their stash, Serena mused. Their situation felt hopeless before, but now, with all these guns and bombs and munitions at their disposal... Serena let out a nervous, maddened laugh. Well, it still wasn't a fair fight - but it was getting closer. If they couldn't fight them on numbers, she mused, they were just gonna have to out-gun them.

"So, do you have a plan?" Lisa asked, and Serena, cybernetically enhanced corporate commando, slung the heavy weapon over her shoulder, to the redhead's amazement: She was still standing, despite carrying a triple-digit weight in munitions.

"I'm trying to think of one..." Serena responded, calming down a bit, considering their situation - and turning antsy. It felt like she was in one of her dad's war stories - up against the wall, enemy closing in, waiting for reinforcement... She sighed, and to Lisa's amazement, retrieved a second M660 from the wall and began loading too.

She couldn't refuse Anabel - She couldn't find an escape, so she'd just have to trust her friend. They were trapped, and there would be no quarter asked or given. Serena loosed a grim laugh, to Lisa's worry, adrenaline buzzing in her veins and hollowness clawed at her soul. She could already feel the flush of blood in her mouth, but... She shook her head, and clenched her teeth. She'd just have to bite the bullet, and wait to slake her dark hunger.

"Can you grab that crate of grenades for me?" She asked, gesturing towards a box of munitions in the corner, and, with a nervous, tense look, Lisa wordlessly complied - they were in this together.

"God." Diane breathed in, and clenched her Calico submachine gun tightly, a tense look on er face as she stared onto the stoop - and the frustrated young hacker sitting on it, frantically working his cyberdeck and swearing under his breath. "How long's this going to take, Vic?"

"I don't know!" He snapped, angry - and very concerned. "I should have been in here like, ten minutes ago!"

"What's the problem, then?" Corto butted in, his accented speech rough, inquisitive, and antsy. The whole team was antsy, standing here, providing a good show to the local scumbags. In an odd twist of fate, they were locked outside their hideout, the targets inside, doing God knows what - and the longer Vic was being kept on the wrong side of his own door, the longer they had to do it.

"There's someone else in the systems." Vic explained, keenly focused on his monitor. "They're better than I was expecting, too - any longer and I might need to plug my brain in."

"The Ramneau woman?" The normally dour and taciturn Redmond piped in, as he made a last-minute weapons check with his one good eye, making sure the sights were zeroed and flicking the safety on, and off.

Vic shrugged his shoulders. "Do you mean Serena? I didn't know that was her last name."

"Is she the one with black hair, or the red dye-job?" Pascal asked, as he made a last-minute examination of his own kit, his medical tools, various tourniquets and bandages and gauze, and ampules of stimm and morpho-pax and disinfectants kept in their own little pouches on his webbing.

"Black hair and big boobies." Vic replied with a wry, boyish smile. "And she's some sort of ace hot-shot hacker."

"Sounds like your type." Diane sarcastically mused, and Vic rolled his eyes, and went back to his monitor.

"Normally, yeah." Vic admitted. "But I've got something called pro-fes-sion-al-ism." He laughed a bit. "I don't try to sleep with people I'm trying to kill..." A vicious, wily grin came on his face. "Or my co-workers."

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Diane shot back, and Vic looked over his shoulder with a naughty grin.

"Oh, don't pretend I haven't seen the way Pascal dotes over you-"

"It's strictly business." He cut Victor off, dour and phlegmatic, and Diane just sulked. "Now just focus on the damn door, Vic, and quit being a wise-ass."

Victor groaned, and rolled his eyes. "I'm trying!" He said. "And besides, there's something off - I don't think this is Serena I'm dealing with."

"Why not?" Pascal asked, and Vic shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, for one, she was on the porch, waiting for us." His tone was bitter and annoyed, and the mood shifted, the whole team showing similar sentiments. This job was supposed to be a milk run, a quick and dirty way of cleaning up after the failure in the hotel. Pop off a pair of suits, looking into things they shouldn't be. That joke of a client had assured them it'd be as easy as shooting fish in a barrel... Corto groaned, and wondered why he kept taking him seriously - he'd been wrong about his assessments before. How hard could they be to kill, though?

Lisa, the redhead, wasn't even augmented. Vic had always heard spies always tended to act all aloof and dangerous until they actually got caught - she should have been a speed bump. Serena, the real threat... Apparently she was part of Bathrette's elite security team. Corto had scoffed when he'd heard that - he'd said if you were a suit, it meant you weren't good enough to go private. She was still pretty green, and didn't even look like a cyborg, but!... Vic sighed. This was the second time they'd been taken by surprise...

"For two," Pascal continued. "I've seen this before." He clenched his teeth. "These patterns, the way the defence is set up - this is the ICE program from the hotel!... Or, Serena's ASSIST program... Whatever it is, it's tough as nails. Do you think it could be a delaying tactic, so they can escape?" He asked, and Corto shook his head.

"She shouldn't be able to." Corto replied, stern and cold, though Vic didn't feel too confident about that. Serena had, thus far, proven herself to be dangerous - and damn lucky - which, in this trade, made you even more dangerous. Very resourceful, too - Vic got the impression the longer they left her and Lisa in there, the bigger odds she'd be able to figure something out. Hell, it wouldn't be a stretch to assume this damn ICE, ASSIST, whatever it was, was one of her tricks, too, but... An uneasy expression came onto his face. What kind of ICE looks like a teenage girl?

A chime came from the cyberdeck across his knees - a wicked, jagged thing, pulsing with lines of purple, and a vicious smile crawled onto Vic's face. "Gotcha." He said, all eyes turning to him, a bead of sweat running down his forehead. "Twelve minutes. Thirty four seconds." He said. He'd timed it. It'd been excruciatingly long. Whatever program Serena employed had been damn good - but not good enough to keep him out.

"Stack up." Corto barked, quickly reaching over and opening the door a tiny crack so it couldn't be remotely locked again, letting the barest hint of blue glow into their lobby. Vic unplugged his cyberdeck and unslung his machine gun to join his colleagues. The whole Ecstasy Battalion was ready to breach their own hideout like a SWAT team, which was a situation - judging by the irritated looks everyone wore - nobody expected in their wildest dreams. This was supposed to be a simple ambush. Let the idiots poke around, run in, rub them out. Vic took a deep breath as he flicked the safety off his weapon. Of course, the first thing he'd learned as a merc was that no plan survives contact with the enemy - especially one as dangerous as that Serena girl.

"What's the plan?" Pascal adjusted his glasses. Right behind Corto on the left side. Diane behind him. Redmond on the right and Vic behind him.

"Breach and clear, one room at a time." Corto roughly replied. "I want this quick and clean, and I don't want a drawn out siege. No bullshit."

"They're definitely up to something in there." Diane added. Everyone looked antsy, and was ready to start shooting. "We should be careful."

"They definitely are." Vic said. "And that's why I think we need to hit them quick and hard - before they finish whatever crap they're trying to do."

"We've cornered them." Diane cut in. "There's no rush - you're only saying to go fast since they're probably screwing with your computers and figurines." Vic just looked embarrassed for a second - and suddenly alert.

"Well, of course they are!" Vic exclaimed. "What else would they be doing!? Yeah, Diane, that's why I'm saying we need to be quick! I've got a lot of stuff on there that we'd be in a world of shit if someone leaked! Excuuuuse me for not wanting to take that risk!" He said, and Diane rolled his eyes. He took a moment to think about his figures too - if Serena damaged them, he mused, he'd put a few extra slugs in her corpse.

"Yeah, but." Pascal cut in, adjusting his glasses. "I'd rather be thorough and careful than get killed. I doubt whatever you've got on your systems is worse than that."

Victor just groaned, and rolled his eyes. "You always take Diane's side in these things." He said. "Are you sure-

"All of you, shut up." Corto barked, the tension in the stale air thick enough to cut with a bayonet. "We're going in quick and harsh, because I don't want to drag this out." He ordered, reaching into his webbing and producing a tubular, hole-covered flash grenade, letting his heavy weapon dangle from its sling as he threaded his finger in the pin, and kicked the door open, revealing the darkened lobby inside. After Serena had fled, the lights were out - but there was definitely somebody home. "Get ready!" Corto barked, and Vic held his machine gun tight, a small clang of metal in his ears, legs tensing up as they were about to-

"GRENADE!" Pascal yelled out, as a small, innocuous, metal thing rolled at their feet, and everyone's composure evaporated as the whole team scrambled to be away from the entrance, diving to the ground and taking what little cover could be found at Anatolyn's in an attempt to dodge the explosion - which, as it turned out, was a bit premature. Rather than the ear-shattering blast and spray of shrapnel Vic had been expecting, a loud hiss emanated from inside, and clouds of billowing gray smoke began to pour from within, cutting off their view of the lobby and making something uncomfortably clear to the mercs as they pulled themselves back up, stacking back on the door, and prepared for round 2.

Serena and Lisa were in there, waiting for them. Nobody had gotten cut apart by shrapnel, but this was almost as bad. With the smokescreen obscuring their view, they couldn't just charge in - they wouldn't see the danger. Corto looked frustrated, clenching his teeth and a vein popping on his forehead as, despite what he'd just said, it looked like this was going to become a drawn-out siege.

Nobody wanted to waste any time, and Corto - hand still holding the stun grenade - had been about to throw it through the door, but scarcely got the opportunity before a burst of .30 calibre bullets thundered through the doorway, the unmistakable bark of machine gun fire ringing in their ears. Redmond yelled out, "CONTACT!" as another burst of fire clattered out, blowing through the walls of the hideout, onto the street, forcing the team to the floor, as Vic clenched his teeth.

On the other end of the smoke, Serena squeezed the trigger again, recoil shooting up her arm and a hail of bullets ringing out over her hastily constructed furniture barricade. The light of the muzzle flashed in her eyes, the clang of the cartridges on the floor rang in her ears, the smell of burning gunpowder tickled her nose. Here they were. Her heart pounded in her chest as she loosed another burst of fire from her pilfered machine gun, a dire, determined look in her red eyes as she peered through the smoke. They'd been cornered - but they weren't going out without a fight!

"Aren't they going in?" Lisa asked from beside her, pulling the pin on another smoke bomb and throwing it, just as the first one was beginning to fade. All the girls had been very busy. While Anabel had been delaying the enemy hacker and breaking the encryption on his files, Serena and Lisa had set about turning the hideout into a fortress - moreso than it already was.

"Hopefully not!" Serena yelled back as she squeezed out another burst of machine-gun fire for good measure. Much of it had been taking all the disused office furniture and barricading off the police station like they were expecting rioters to storm in. Much of the furniture came from the bullpen office by the stairs - which, being an alternate passageway the mercs could flank them by, she'd blocked off with a pile of desks. "We don't need to kill them, we just need to hold them off until Anabel's done!"

"Do you think she really knows a way out?" Lisa asked over the din of gunfire, and Serena suddenly looked a bit less confident. Their whole defence was precarious, she mused, and that was the sticking point. They were waiting for reinforcement that might not even come.

"I really, really hope she does..." Serena grimly responded - and her eyes went wide, as she heard more fire from beyond the smoke, and both girls ducked down, bits of the barricade flying off and rounds hitting the ceiling above, sending plaster dust down into their hair. If Anabel couldn't get them out, they were dead - plain and simple. It wasn't worth thinking of, especially when they should be focusing on their defence.

Serena stood up again and threw down another volley of suppressive fire, while Lisa, for good measure, threw in another smoke bomb, filling the lobby up with a dense, pea-soup fog. They might've had more firepower than a helicopter gunship, but they were still outnumbered - and, as much effort as she and Lisa had put into the barricades, they were still ramshackle things, and Serena uncomfortably wondered how much effort the Ecstasy Battalion would need to overrun them?

Though, they'd been thorough - This wasn't the only layer of defences Serena had made. They'd built several strongpoints out of desks and couches and elbow grease and crossed fingers, and nearly emptied the armour making supply caches at each layer. So, if things were looking hairy, they'd toss a few smokes and run to the next layer, resupply themselves, and continue the fight. They had a dozen crates of grenades - smoke bombs. Serena had left the frags behind, under the assumption they'd just blow themselves up - boxes of medical supplies they'd found in a side room, just in case, and thousands of rounds of ammunition; cylindrical magazines for the half-dozen Calico submachine guns and boxes of ammo belts for the full-sized bullet hoses. There was more in each strongpoint, too. They had practically emptied the whole armoury, and Serena estimated, if everything went well, they could hold out for at least an hour.

They'd left their MP12's upstairs in the hacker's den - their very last, back against the wall strongpoint. From the odd look on Lisa's face - adrenal and panicky, with a small grin. The Calicos were good - no wonder the mercs used them. Polymer bullet hoses that held a hundred 10mm rounds in a cylinder shaped magazine and could dump the whole thing in just under ten seconds. Less sophisticated than the MP12s, but- Another blast of return fire came from the windows and forced Serena and Lisa to duck down again, Serena clenching her teeth as she popped her machine gun up over the barrier and fired blind towards the mercs. Right now, they didn't need sophistication - they needed as much lead in the air as was possible.

Serena pulled herself back up to aim properly, and her eyes went wide. "The smoke's starting to clear up!" She yelled out, and Lisa scrambled into action. While she threw down another blast of gunfire into lobby, the muzzle flash lighting up the whole hallway as she spat out a score of lead, Lisa pulled the pin on another smoke bomb, and threw it out, into the lobby, soaring overhead like a brick in a riot, landing out in the lobby, the clank of metal on tile ringing in Serena's ears as the girls ducked down, avoiding a volley of return fire from outside. Serena had, once again, moved the barrel of her machine gun up and over the barrier to fire blind over it, but, as she was about to squeeze the trigger, she heard another clink - and saw a round, metal shape drop at her feet - and her eyes went wide, and her heart skipped a beat as the grenade bounced on the tile.

Time slowed down, and Serena screamed in panic as her instincts and training took over, and tried to kick the bomb away and cover her eyes - but she'd been a second too late. She covered her eyes with her forearm and shielded her face with black leather, and managed to kick the bomb into one of the open offices, but it hadn't gone enough distance, only just about clearing the doorframe when it went off.

Thankfully, Serena's boot had been fast enough to avoid the two girls being permanently blinded - but the flash grenade had still gone off rather close, and the effects were immediate. A bang, like a thunderclap, loud enough to throw her off her feet rang in her ears, and light as blind and painful as the sun god's wrath filled her eyes - even with her arm blocking them, it dazzled her like a cosmic cigarette butt being smothered into her face. It felt like she was inside a massive bell as it rang, or that a shell had gone off next to her.

The whiteness faded from her eyes quickly, but Serena's heart rate picked up, and her blood turned to ice as her vision cleared. It gave the mercs a few precious seconds - and that was all they needed. She scrambled into action, springing to her feet, aiming machine gun over the barricade, and a reflexive jerk of the trigger sent an inaccurate hail of bullets into the lobby, while the weapon tried to escape her grasp through force of recoil. It wasn't a moment too soon - Corto and Pascal were scant moments away from bounding over the stack of couches and desks, and reflexively hit the floor, buying Serena an instant to worry about her friend.

Considering the panicked screaming coming from where she'd fallen, Serena felt a sinking feeling in her stomach, hoping against hope she hadn't been permanently maimed, but- "I CAN'T SEE!" Came a frenzied, panic from the floor. It was a small mercy they hadn't been hit with a frag bomb probably because the mercs didn't want to ruin their hideout, Serena mused, though, an uncomfortable feeling crawled in her throat as Lisa yelled, "I'M BLIND! I'M BLIND!"

"YOU'LL BE FINE! IT'LL WEAR OFF!" Serena found her tone almost as panicky, but with more sharpness to it. She really hoped she was right. "GET UP! GET UP!" She yelled trying to drag Lisa to her feet. Her friend hadn't been as quick on the draw, and hadn't managed to cover her eyes in time. Serena ran on pure instinct, one hand shaking Lisa up and the second pouring inaccurate suppressing fire over the barrier, while, in the lobby, the mercs were beginning to regroup: From the floor, Pascal and Corto were starting to pour fire back to their position, and, from the corner of her eye, Serena could see Diane clearing the lobby's doors, with Vic right behind her.

While Lisa regained her senses, and began to feel around for where her glasses and hat landed, Serena scrambled to the boxes of smoke bombs and loosed out another short burst of fire out to the lobby, before ducking down and letting the machine gun swing on its sling as she grabbed a pair of smoke bombs, and, in terror and desperation and her dentist's disapproval, pulled the pins with her teeth, dropped one and threw another over the barricade, to cover their retreat, Lisa getting to her feet right in time for Serena to grab her by her coat and made a break for it.

Serena had planned for this - in fact, she'd been expecting to. She didn't imagine she'd be able to hold their first defensive line forever, but... She clenched her teeth. She'd hoped to have held out longer than this, but the mercs had broken her with a well-timed flash bomb, and now they'd had to give ground for the first time, sprinting down the hall, to the stairs. Serena let go of her friend and yelled out, "Shoot! Shoot!" As she looked behind her, muzzle of her weapon pointed to the spot they'd just abandoned, pulling the trigger-

Her eyes went wide, and the hollowness clawed at her soul as the heavy weapon did nothing. No recoil shot up her arm, no muzzle flash lit her face, no hail of lead thundered towards her enemies. The weapon just went click, Serena's stomach felt like it was full of lead - opposite her gun, now lighter than when she'd picked it up. Out of bullets. With a frenzied, ungainly gesture and a storm of profanity, Serena pulled the gun up and over her head and threw it to the ground, with a hollow clunk. Probably not broken - they made these things to be grunt-proof, after all, but... Serena cracked a vicious, uneasy smile. It would be better if she HAD broken it.

At the end of the hallway that had seemed much longer in Serena's head, the two girls scrambled over the barrier of their second strongpoint, blocking off the T-junction, right infront of the stairwell, and Serena quickly scrambled to pick up the second M660 machine gun and yelled out, "Cover the hallway!" To her friend, who was already tearing the lid off a fresh box of smoke grenades. In the nick of time, too - the smoke bombs Serena had thrown to cover her retreat already beginning to fade.

The girls had been very busy, and Serena had been determined to not waste even a single second Anabel had bought them. They'd been hard at work making layers of defences and supply caches with what they could find. Serena's gaze turned briefly to the corridor on her right-hand side, where the bullpen office was. They'd covered the doors with a barricade of office furniture, to shore up their flanks. Serena took a deep breath. Hopefully, it would hold.

Another pair of smoke grenades flew down the hallway, spewing obfuscating fog, right as Serena finished slinging a fresh M660 over her shoulder, and flicked the safety catch off. The Ecstasy Battalion had given them a lot of toys to play with, and Serena cracked a tense, hectic smile as she took aim with the weapon. They were in a lot of danger - but running out of ammo wasn't one of those dangers. Lisa's smoke grenades clinked and rolled in the centre of the hall, right near where Serena had discarded her first machine gun of the night, bisecting the hallway in a carpet of dense smoke, the hiss drowned out by the roar of gunfire pouring out from the barricade, recoil shooting up Serena's arm as a storm of lead pierced the smokescreen and blasted whatever was on the other side... A worried look came onto Serena's face, as she eased off the trigger for a moment. She definitely wasn't hitting the Ecstasy Battalion, she quickly realized.

A cold feeling crept up Serena's spine, contrasting the heat of the weapon blazing in her hands as automatic fire poured forth like the breath of a dragon. A tense look came to her face as she realized how... The situation had, in only a few seconds, drastically changed. The mercs' behaviour had shifted. They seemed like they'd switched tactics, and were less aggressive now. Before, they were trying to storm in and get a foothold to push them back, but something had changed - and Serena didn't like it.

Exactly what they were up to, she couldn't say - the cloud of smoke was a double-edged sword: It kept the mercs from being able to draw a bead on her or advance into the fog, lest they run smack into a hail of lead, but... A deep breath entered Serena's lungs, and a bead of sweat rolled down her forehead. It meant she couldn't see what they were up to, either.

"What are they doing?!" Serena snapped. It was making her nervous, she realized. A few bullets flew though the smoke to her position - short burst from enemy Calicos, splintering wood and blasting powder from the walls, and Serena matched it with another burst of fire from her machine gun, recoil kicking her shoulder as her fangs began to buzz in her mouth, desperate to sink into flesh and drink, sweet life...

"What do you mean?" Lisa looked confused and worried as she pulled the pin and threw another smoke bomb, where it landed with a satisfying clink and diligently keeping the smokescreen going - and helped to distract Serena from her own bloodlust, and focus on the problem ahead of them.

"It feels like-" Serena replied, briefly cut out as a bullet whizzed through the fog, uncomfortably close to her ear, and she ducked down and fired blind over the barrier, while Lisa matched the gesture with her submachine gun. "They're stalling! They're not as aggressive as they were coming in!"

"Because now, they have to charge down a hall into your gunfire." Lisa replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. A small bit of levity pierced the tension, a nervous smile on her face.

"I guess." Serena stood back up, and felt the kick of her gun as she squeezed the trigger to loose another hail of lead, spent casings piling up at her feet. "That might be part of it, but it feels like they're trying to keep us busy! They haven't even thrown any grenades over here, yet!"

"I think they think it might not work twice!" Lisa let out a short burst from her own weapon, clenching her teeth as she fought to control the recoil, while a swarm of 10mm rounds pierced the smoke. An uncomfortable smile came to Serena's face - she was of the opinion it would, in fact, work twice. She had to admit, beyond yelling out - 'GRENADE' so Lisa could react, and trying to kick it out faster, she had no idea what to do if they threw another flash bomb in their foxhole...

Serena sighed, and squeezed off another burst of machine gun fire. "I don't want to find out." She said. "Make sure we've always got smoke and I'll try to keep them from getting close enough to throw one in." Preventative maintenance was all they could do. "I'm just glad they're not using frag bombs..." She said. A bit quieter, so she wouldn't give the mercs an idea.

"Why do you think they aren't?"

"I dunno." Serena shrugged her shoulder in between a burst of automatic gunfire. "I think it's the same reason we aren't - it's too close, and we'd probably blow ourselves up. Plus, we're deep underground..." A nervous laugh escaped her lips, as the roar of gunfire rang in her ears and recoil kicked her shoulder. "Blowing stuff up might not be the smartest idea." That was why they'd left the crate of breaching explosives in the armoury were they'd found it.

Another hail of bullets thundered towards them through the smoke. Another unaimed, suppressive burst of fire that forced the girls down into cover - though, this one was different. Mostly through luck - and a bit of sloppiness on Serena's part, she felt a sharp, slashing pain in her side, and her eyes went wide, her teeth clenched, and her aim went wide, the gun making another escape attempt in her right hand as he crouched down and grasped at where the bullet had grazed her.

"Serena!-"

"It's fine!" She yelled back, and gritted her teeth. "Just keep shooting!" She took a deep breath, and pulled the blood-covered hand away from her side - and struggled not to look at it. It hurt - but the gnawing sensation, the hollow, black hunger. The need for... Blood. On her hand... It was a bit worse... Left hand back on the foregrip, she squeezed the trigger, the roar of the gun, the muzzle flash in her eyes, the sharp recoil in her arm. It helped distract her. It kept the thought of blood off her mind.

It looked nasty - especially with all the blood that was on her hand, now making the foregrip all sticky - but it looked worse than it was. The bullet had merely grazed her stomach, and hadn't hit anything vital - but it did put a hole in her favourite coat - again. She could already feel that strange burning sensation in her side, churning her stomach as she felt her skin and flesh meld together - it made her skin crawl. It was a deeply uncanny - and, not to mince words, unnatural feeling, but... Serena laughed nervously to herself. It was a good and a bad thing. Good, that her nanites were working, and that they'd patch her up before she bled out. Bad, in that she could feel her black hunger intensifying - she'd already let a bit of life leak out of her, and the nanites used even more blood patching her back up... Blood...

Serena clenched her teeth, and jerked the trigger, sending a wild, unaimed burst down the hall. An animalistic look came in her eyes, while her mind was focusing hard on suppressing it - and it wasn't working. God, she needed it... badly... Serena laughed nervously, feeling the hollow, bleak hunger claw at her soul. Blood. She needed it. She could already feel the sticky warmth on her lips... The acrid taste of iron on her mouth-

Another burst of gunfire came at them, and Serena ducked, in the nick of time. No. Focus. She couldn't lose herself here - if there was a worse time to lapse into maddened bloodlust, she'd certainly like to know. What Gabriel had called the 'emergency compensation system' of her nanites were, like everything else of her condition, a blessing and a curse. She wouldn't black out from anemia - but losing her senses and being momentarily consumed by her need for blood was a lot worse - even if it had saved her from death, on occasion. She took a deep breath, and focused. They just had to get out of this alive. She could have all the blood she wanted once she escaped...

Serena clenched her teeth again, focusing on the situation. Lisa had been keeping the smokescreen going, and, it looked (as much as she could see into the fog) as though the Ecstasy Battalion had stalled. They were putting down lead through the smokescreen on occasion, but Serena and her machine gun had been able to hold them off. She squeezed the trigger and let out another burst of fire, but didn't sustain it - the mercs quickly shot back, and Serena and Lisa were forced back down into cover, the splintering of wood barely audible over the roar of gunfire. Her eyes went wide. That... Wasn't right. It wasn't coming from their barricade, either. The sound the bullets made in the office furniture was a short splintering, not like the long, crushing, snapping sounds from off to her right-

"THE OFFICE!" Serena exclaimed in a blind panic, turning her head to the right, down the hall - the one that, just a few minutes ago, looked so securely barricaded up, but, to both girls' shock, was now rapidly being forced open. The couches and desks were falling off in bits, and the double doors behind them looked to have been pulled off completely - exposing, between the gaps in the barrier, a massive, trenchcoat-clad figure, and-

Serena's stomach jumped, as a new splintering chop rang through the hall, as the silver blade of a fire axe appeared, hewing a desk neatly in twain, and her heart sank. Now, she bitterly realized, she'd found out their plan - far too late.

"THEY'RE COMING IN THROUGH THE SIDE!" Lisa clarified the situation, and reflexively, Serena let out a long burst from her machine gun through the door to the office, bullets putting massive holes into their own barrier and forcing Corto to break line of sight, and sweat violently, while, off to their left side, another hail of lead came through the smoke, forcing the girls behind cover and their attention back into the hall, but, just as Serena suppressed the hallway with another blast of machine gun fire, the blade of the axe went through the barrier once again, and Serena flinched, as her heart rate picked up, and a bead of nervous sweat ran down her forehead.

The situation began to rapidly deteriorate, as Lisa and Serena needed to rapidly switch their attention, as the Ecstasy Battalion began a two-pronged attack. The mercs behind the smokescreen taking pot-shots through the fog to suppress them as Corto, patient chop, after chop, began dismantling their barrier and threatening to open a second front in their defences. Serena, fanning the weapon wildly, tried to think of a solution - maybe they could split their efforts; she'd watch the main hall, Lisa would keep Corto suppressed-

A click. Serena's eyes went wide. Her gun was out of ammunition for the second time today. Another thwack. Another splintering, sickening chop - and Serena realized, she didn't have the time to reload it. A string of profanity that could have turned a sailor beet-red escaped her mouth as she, for the second time today, threw her drained weapon to the ground, Lisa hastily smoke bombs down both passageways, while, from the hall to the lobby, another string of gunfire erupted, sending both girls behind cover as Serena reached for a spare Calico, switching the safety off, and chambered a round.

There hadn't been too many machine guns - so Serena hadn't been able to stash more than one at each strongpoint. Another chop, the blade of the axe piercing through the now much-less substantial barrier. Another burst of suppressive fire from the hall, sending Serena down. Sweat was pouring down her forehead, and she clenched her teeth, breathing in heavily. "Cover the hallway! I'll get the office!" Serena yelled out, and two bursts of 10mm fire erupted in the air, like a swarm of vicious hornets, and Serena swore. It didn't feel quite as strong. It didn't kick as bad, and was easier to keep on target, but-

Another thwack. Another chop. A cold feeling creeping up her neck as she saw how little of the barrier remained. The axe - and all the bullets she'd been pouring into it from her own position - hadn't been good for it, and a string of doubts began to worm their way into Serena's mind. She began to wonder how long they could hold out. 'An Hour' now began to seem like an all-too-generous miscalculation...

As if the universe conspired to answer, the axe made one last vicious crash into the barrier, destroying it utterly and causing their structure to fall apart into splinters, and Serena's eyes went wide, as over the rubble, she could see Corto at the other end of the hall, towering over her, the blade of the massive firefighting tool glimmering in his metal hands, and a bitter, vicious look behind his shades. They locked eyes for a moment, and it was like he was telling her, with his gaze, 'you're not getting out of this alive.'

Serena replied with another burst of fire from her Calico, the spray of 10mm rounds forcing Corto back out of the doorway and into cover, and a bead of sweat ran down Serena's head. The man was swifter than she'd expected anyone that wired up to be - he'd have easily been able to keep pace with her mechanically enhanced colleagues at the Special Asset protection Squad, that was for sure. Now, though, they had a massive problem. The barricade was reduced to rubble, and this was now officially a two-front firefight - and where their position had been secure just a minute ago, they were suddenly very, very vulnerable.

"The barricade's gone!" Serena yelled out, as, off to her left, Lisa was pouring another hail of suppressive fire into the cloud of rapidly diminishing smoke, a look of alarm coming to her face. "Throw down smoke and run!" Serena added, and managed to send another burst of lead down the doorway into the bullpen, just scant moments before the figure of Corto peered around it with his machine gun.

It was more difficult than it'd been last time - they might've been blinded, but they didn't need to focus on two places at once, and, Lisa clenched her teeth as her magazine ran dry, and ducked down to grab the smoke bombs, while Serena wildly sprayed, diverting her attention down two corridors at once, trying to keep the mercenaries from bounding through and overrunning them while Lisa got to work-

Click. A bead of cold sweat ran down her forehead. Her Calico went dry, too, as Lisa grabbed a smoke bomb from the crate - the last one, too - and their defensive position completely disintegrated. Down the hall, the smoke was clearing out, revealing Vic and Redmond, poking their heads - and weapons - out from the other side of their first barricade. In the office, Corto was sticking the muzzle of his weapon through the door - and she could see what she thought might've been Pascal opposite him, about to throw another grenade - and her eyes went wide. That was their exit cue.

Acting on instinct again, she quickly snatched up Lisa by the coat, while she was in the middle of pulling the pin, and she'd screamed, and dropped it at her feet, right as the bullets began to fly, and they ran as fast as their legs could carry them, Serena's heart pounding in her chest, with several close calls as she could feel the passage of rounds buzz her ears and arms, and they'd cleared the door, as the dense cloud was finally thick enough to break eye contact, and Serena closed the doors behind them and ran for the stairs right as the flashbang went off, shattering the glass and flooding the stairwell with a massive flash of light, like a nuclear flashbulb going off.

Serena had the sense to cover her eyes again. Lisa didn't - and she screamed out and yelled and neatly fell face-first into the steps, but managed to keep her balance and keep her glasses on her face despite seeing double, and quickly followed Serena up the stairs and around the landing, right ahead of a hail of gunfire, running up and into the foyer and the conference room at a dead sprint, breathing in deep mouthfuls of air, and stopping for a moment to reload her weapon and catch her breath, while, Serena, who'd been waiting for her to arrive, gritted her teeth and flexed her mighty muscles and pushed the conference table - already partially in position - through the open doors and right into the stairwell, blocking off access to the second floor with a massive piece of wood. Serena, now needed to catch her breath, and wipe her brow - with a massive, satisfied smile forming on her face.

"I didn't think that was going to work!..." Lisa let out a manic laugh as she pulled the bolt on her Calico, and chambered a round, and Serena turned to her, and cracked a wily look. It had been one of her more inventive ideas to fortify this place. It'd been a bit of eyeball measurement, and they'd had to break the glass of the conference room to get the table in position to begin with, but, while running weapons down to the first floor, Serena noticed that the conference table's width was close to that of the stairwell, and even if it wasn't an exact fit, the vampire mused, it was still worth trying...

With a giant conference table blocking the stairwell, and another pile of office furniture blocking the corridor off to Serena's left, the second floor antechamber would be secure for a while. Though... A concerned look came onto her face, the blade of the fire axe Corto had wielded crossing into her mind. She now felt less confident than she did at the start that the conference table could hold them off. She took a deep breath as she darted back through the conference room, now missing it's table and glass wall, and ran into the armoury, where Lisa was popping the lid off a fresh box of smoke grenades, and in the next room, Anabel was still hard at work breaking Victor's encryption... Serena slid a couch into position, blocking off the armoury door, and completing their third barrier - the last one.

They could probably retreat into Corto's office and prop his desk against the door, but that would be really desperate. Serena grabbed another M660 machine gun - the very last one, so she'd have to make it count - and pulled on the charging handle, chambering a round from the belt, and flicking the safety off. She stared into the open stairwell, with a long, distant expression. Practically speaking, this was as far as they could allow the enemy to come without things going completely FUBAR. Her red eyes shifted to the den, a purple glow in her eyes and the hum of computer equipment in her ears, and Serena laughed nervously to herself as she wondered how long the conference table would hold - and if Anabel would be done before then.

"When should I start throwing smoke?" Lisa asked, and Serena turned away from what was now no-man's land, back to their crates of munitions, bullets, and smoke bombs. The last of it, she bitterly mused.

"If you can see e'm, don't wait for my signal." Serena's tone was taciturn ad cold, and hid the nervous, jumpy feeling in her veins. "But try to hold off for as long as possible - this is all we've got left, you know..."

"I know..." Lisa took a deep breath as she took aim over their barrier. "Why'd we leave all that stuff behind for them anyways?" She asked, jokey, nervous, and irritated all at once.

Serena let out a deep sigh. "Because I'd rather leave a machine gun than my life downstairs." She rolled her eyes. "If we had to leave a bunch of stuff behind, then, whatever." At least, they hadn't left anything important. Serena's cyberdeck was still in the computer room, as were their MP-12's -barely used. Mostly because - Serena found a wily smile coming over her - The Ecstasy Battalion was kind enough to let them borrow some hardware.

Serena took another breath, and parked her gun on the barricade, and took aim. Another second passed, feeling like an eternity .She could hear chatter from in the stairwell, but nothing distinct. The smell of gunpowder tickled her nose. The smell of blood incensed her soul, and demanded more, and Serena found herself clenching her teeth without realizing it, and snapped back to reality, eyes wide.

"How much longer is this going to take?!" Lisa finally broke the silence, and Serena sighed in nervous relief.

"I'm almost there." Came a focused, but energetic voice from the computer room, Serena and Lisa both surprised - and relieved - to hear it. "Just a bit longer..." Anabel said, in the throes of an obsessive frenzy.

"Just work as quickly as you can." She took a deep breath, focusing on the sight picture, wondering what was happening in the stairwell.

"I'm trying. I'm trying!..." Anabel said, a flush of choler suddenly in the ghost's voice, and she added, "Don't distract me!... Sorry... I..."

"Don't worry." Serena said, hands firmly on her weapon, a resolute look in her eyes, escape within view. "We'll handle it. Just focus." Serena felt a buzzing sensation in her fangs, really hoping she was right...

Her eyes went wide as a nasty, wood-splitting noise echoed from the stairwell. Reflexively, she loosed a burst of .308 calibre bullets and Lisa found a smoke bomb leaving her arm, sailing through the conference room, bouncing off the conference table and rolling into the stairwell, the both of them suddenly looking embarrassed - and very worried, as a string of profanity rang out from the fog. So that was their plan, then. Serena took a deep breath. She should have seen this coming - Corto had a fire axe. Of course, he was going to put it to good use. Serena's heart began to pound uncomfortably in her chest. They weren't going to try and wait them out - soon, Corto would have chopped up the whole table, and have a free shot at charging their last line of defence.

Another chop. Another splintering noise rang in her ears like a hangman's hobnailed boots. Another bead of sweat ran down the back of Serena's neck. Another reflexive squeeze of the trigger, another burst of .308 calibre bullets came thundering from machine gun, flew into the stairwell, and hit nothing but the wall.

"What do we do" Lisa asked, her tone flush with tension, and Serena found her face matching it, and nervously shook her head.

"I don't know." She flatly replied, and, having nothing better to do, she let out another burst of fire into the stairwell, as Corto hacked off another piece, in the fog. The stairwell was an advantage, as well as a weakness. It funnelled them in, but she couldn't draw a bead on the mercs, even without the smoke. Dangerous as it was, Serena found herself contemplating the fragmentation grenades - this would be the perfect opportunity to use them. Another sickening chop of wood. Another reflexive burst of fire from Serena's machine gun - and this time, Lisa joined in with her Calico. It didn't seem to be suppressing the mercs too well, and the smoke didn't seem to be cutting the mustard, here.

"Is Corto just swinging at it blindly?" Lisa asked, at once, worried and annoyed. It seemed to be a possibility - in the confines of the stairwell, he could probably just hack it into splinters, but... She clenched her teeth. No, it didn't make sense for there to be some other possibility - and it was getting difficult to think clearly, anyways.

"I... I guess..." A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead. Her trigger finger twitched, and loosed another burst of lead with each blow of the axe. A hollow, cold feeling came into her stomach. All their efforts, blood, sweat, and tears, everything they'd done to try to delay their enemies - had it all been futile in the end? Another crushing, splintering sound rang out, and Serena decided to take her finger out of the trigger guard - she couldn't afford to waste any more ammo.

Here they were. Their backs up against the wall, their enemies were about to break down their last barrier, and, once they were on the second floor - and in grenade-throwing range, Serena found a cold shiver creep up her spine as she contemplated how long they could hold the mercs off. A minute? Two, at best?... Another bead of sweat ran down her forehead, as another sickening splintering of wood rang in her ears. The mercs were getting closer, and closer...

She turned her gaze back to the hacker's den, dull humming and whirring of computer equipment buzzing from the violet gloom, interrupted by the sickening thwack of a wooden conference table being maimed, the ghost hard at work, buzzing away, cracking the server, putting a nervous, irritable, impatient look on Serena's face, and she said "How much longer, Anabel!?" Her voice was strained, and Lisa was giving her an odd look so, with a nervous laugh, she had assume she looked a bit unhinged. She certainly felt that way - every swing of the axe was like the buckling and groaning of a pressure vessel, and Serena wondered how much more she could take before her psyche exploded.

"Almost there." Came the ghost girl's harsh response. "Don't talk, you're distracting me." Anabel rebuked, sounding focused and irritated, and Serena groaned and shook her head. Enough of this, she reasoned.

"Make sure they don't get through." Serena turned to Lisa, who was visibly on the edge of panic herself, as she got up, leaving her position, and darted into the armoury. She remembered what her dad always said. f something's not working, don't keep doing it.' Another blow from Corto's axe against the - definitely less substantial - conference table rang in her ears. This wasn't working. She had to switch gears, and a terrible, desperate idea came into her head, but... Serena just laughed, maniacally. Desperate times meant she needed to consider everything at her disposal...

Lisa, for a moment, found herself locking up again, but then she'd heard another sickening thwack as Corto took another piece out of the conference table and sprung into action, pulling the pin and throwing another smoke bomb over their barricade, sailing through the air and flying right into the stairwell, bouncing and spraying obfuscating gray mist. She took aim and squeezed the trigger again, recoil punching her and she clenched her teeth as she fought to keep the weapon on target, wondering what else to do... What else COULD she do?!

The whole situation had gone completely pear-shaped, hadn't it? Lisa laughed nervously an uncomfortable thought dawned on her. This might be it. She drifted into her mind, running on autopilot, a thousand yard stare behind her spectacles, as she began peppering the stairwell with short bursts, trying, desperately, to keep the mercenaries at bay.

From the starting point of helping Serena exorcise an unruly artificial intelligence, she never dreamed things would... She laughed nervously, on the edge of lucidity, letting out another burst of gunfire. Go this far out of hand, and end with her fighting for her life against a gang of killers in this underground slum! Trapped here, in this place, rapidly giving ground... She laughed bitterly once again. Serena had said it best - there wasn't a way out.

Another splintering of wood from the stairwell threw her back to reality - there wasn't a way out, but they still needed to try, didn't they? She fixed her glasses, and let out another burst of fire from the Calico. She wasn't in a hurry to die. There was so much she hadn't done! So many people she... She took a deep breath, a nervous grin on her face. She hadn't analyzed... Cracked open. She snatched a glance over behind the armoury's bulletproof glass, where Serena was digging through a large crate, her smile going from nervous to maniacal, an obsessive look coming in her eyes.

Her friend had... Shown so many weird sides to her. There was so much to Serena cybernetic enhancements couldn't explain. She'd blacked out and been taken to the hospital one day and returned... Changed. It raised so many questions! Lisa let out a small laugh, her gaze - and mind - turning to the computer room. Anabel, too... Fascinated her, she had to admit. More than just an artificial intelligence - she was a whole, digitized person! Anabel even didn't seem to realize the significance of what she was, and Lisa had to wonder - would she be doomed to wander this world as a digitized phantom, if they failed here?... Lisa wildly laughed, naughtily and viciously. Oh, there was still so much to learn about her friends...

One more thwack from the stairwell, Corto tearing apart the conference table brought her back down to reality, and Lisa took a deep breath, let out a long burst of fire from her weapon. She'd need to survive - they all did. She just wondered how the hell everyone else seemed to... Do it! Serena, definitely, had more to her than met the eye, and... She clenched her teeth. Oh, a lot of it probably had to do with the training and whatever cybernetics she'd had - she didn't seem visibly enhanced, though - but she couldn't help but wonder why she was here. She wasn't that good with a gun, and just felt like she could only get in the way-

"I've found it!" Serena yelled out from the armoury, and a wide, reassured smile came onto Lisa's eyes - to be replaced with a very nervous, wide-eyed stare as she actually looked at her friend, saw the manic, desperate smile on her face, and read the label off the crate she held.

"M283 Explosive Satchel Charges. 40 count" Lisa read off, her expression turning pale. "Serena, are you trying to get us killed?!"

"I'm not gonna use all of them!" She irritably replied, planting the crate down on the floor, and Lisa gave her a funny look - like that made it better. "One will be enough, I think."

"Why can't we just use the grenades?" Lisa worriedly replied - and the manic smile Serena gave her didn't help, as she dug one out of the box, and held it up to the light.

"This is our last line of defence." Serena flatly responded, eyes scanning the charge. "So, this is the nuclear option." It was a brick of Composition 9 Plastic explosive, about the length of her forearm, enclosed by a plastic shell, with a small, dull LCD display and a keypad underneath, reminiscent of a pocket calculator. "Lisa, I'm not dying here. They chased us this far, so I'm going to make sure they regret it."

"This will definitely kill US, too!" Lisa tried to plead, while Serena read off the instructions on the other side of the plastic shell. Step one was connecting a remote detonator for redundancy - which she didn't have. Step two was punching in the code to arm it - printed on the side of the crate. 8-3-8-4. Serena wondered if it meant anything. Step three was setting a timer, and, being grunt-proof, the minimum detonation time was thirty seconds, long enough to run to the minimum safe blast distance of...

Serena's heart suddenly sank, and she looked back over to Lisa, with an awkward smile on her face, the spy very, very worried. "I think you might be right about the grenades." She admitted, and put the satchel charge back in the box and stood up and ran back to the armoury-

"Done."

The both of them froze. The word felt like a rope ladder in a dark oubliette, dangling right infront of their faces, and both girls frantically stormed into the computer room, an uneasy smile on both their faces.

"You're really done?!" Serena sounded unsure, like she was asking if this was a dream - or, if she'd been shot and killed already and was seeing an odd afterlife...

Serena pinched her hand, and got further confirmation when Anabel curtly said, "Yes. I've broken the decryption and downloaded everything of interest onto your cyberdeck." She suddenly sounded... Oddly distant, but Serena paid it no heed - there was something more important on her mind.

It was like a switch flicked on inside her, and Serena burst towards the server, heart thumping in her chest. In a maddened frenzy, and with a single gesture, she whipped the cable out and packed it back into her bag and threw it to Lisa, who fumbled a bit, but avoided, dropping it, and gave Serena a sour look that she completely ignored as she turned to Anabel - who looked a bit on edge - and snapped, "So, how do we get out?!"

"Like I said." Anabel sounded rather impish, as the girls quickly grabbed both MP12s - Lisa dropping her Calico for it, and Serena stowing her MP-12 in her coat, keeping the machine gun for the time being. "The Metrotown's original builders had the foresight to line their city with maintenance hatches and escape tunnels. The mercs might've bricked them up, but the passages still exist."

Serena nearly flew off the handle there, about to scream at Anabel, asking how the hell she was supposed to get through a brick wall, but stopped, mouth open, furious look fading from her face as she quickly darted back outside, and saw the solution staring at her in the face. 40 units of it. Serena began to smile madly, and Lisa looked very, very worried. So, it looked like they were going to use them after all.

"Where's the closest one?!" Serena exclaimed, a desperate, wiry look on her face. A wave of relief washed over her like a gentle breeze on a warm spring day, but, like a proverbial wasp in the spring flowers, she still needed to make the escape route.

"I've scanned the mercs' blueprints." Anabel replied. "There's a maintenance hatch in the commander's office that they'd paid the engineers' guild good money to omit from their maps. South wall. Lets' go." She said, and Serena wasted no time - she quickly ran over and scooped up her cyberdeck, slamming the monitor down and scooping it up on her back, teeth clenching as the load became apparent. Cyberdeck on her back, machine gun hanging from her shoulder, submachine gun, handgun, and knife in her coat - suddenly felt quite stifling, like the metaphorical straw that broke the camel's back - in this case, computer that was testing the limits of how much the vampire could carry without collapsing.

Adrenaline kept her on her feet as she rushed back into the armoury, Lisa close behind, and she yelled at her friend to "Hold them off for just a bit longer!..." Then, she nearly fell, and decided something had to give. So, with great reluctance, Serena allowed her machine gun to fall to the floor, before snatching up a satchel charge and sprinting into Corto's office like the hounds of hell were tailing her.

They'd mostly torn Corto's office apart to make room for their barricades, and left only his desk - for one final barrier - and Corto's posters, which had held no use to them, but now... On instinct, Serena lunged for the massive centrefold. The one with the blonde girl in the slutty bikini, and pulled it off, a wily smile coming onto her face as she spied brickwork on the other side. Recently done, if the whiteness of the mortar was any judge. A maniacal laugh escaped her lips, as she punched in the arming code into her bomb. They were so close now, but that was no reason to relent yet...

Serena planted the satchel charge right at the base of the wall. One would be enough - one of them could blow a hole in a concrete bunker, and she didn't want to get her and Lisa killed at the eleventh hour. To her chagrin, there really wasn't a way - that she could find, in what little time she had - to set the countdown to less than thirty seconds, so she'd relented. A bead of sweat rolled down her head, finger hovering over the activation button, '00:30' staring back at her from the LCD display, a flicker of doubt hovering over her for just a second. Would this work at all? Her fangs buzzed in her mouth, and the gnawing feeling in her soul brought her back to Earth. This was their only option... She took in another gulp of the now horribly stale air, smelling of gunpowder, sweat, and blood. It had to work - neither of them would have any future if it didn't...

Her index finger hit the arm button, and, silently, the display began counting down from thirty. Twenty nine. Twenty eight. Twenty seven. Serena dashed out of the room, back to the armoury, up against the barricade, in time to see Lisa throw another smoke bomb, and let out a flurry of 5mm rounds from her MP-12, a tense look on her face.

"How long?" Lisa asked, as Serena joined her, letting out a burst of automatic fire into the stairwell, M660 still discarded on the floor behind her, keeping the Ecstasy Battalion pinned down for just that tiny bit longer.

"About twenty seconds..." Serena said, after a moment to do some mental math. "Give or take."

"And this is safe, right?..." Lisa cracked a smile, but Serena could tell from the look in her eyes she wasn't being sarcastic... And, she realized, she couldn't say 'yes' in confidence. She'd trained with high explosives only briefly - but briefly enough to know about a few... Complications. Shrapnel, for one - even if they were out of the 'maximum safe distance' they could still be badly maimed by the explosion turning the wall between them and it into fast-moving debris. The second was - Serena looked over her shoulder, at the box, containing the remaining thirty nine satchel charges. If THAT cooked off, they would be dead - and so would the mercs, and so would a lot of people here, since they'd have vaporized the entire building and brought a large chunk of the Metrotown crashing down in on them...

A chill went up Serena's spine. That was a big problem - she'd been... Admittedly very irresponsible, and had fifteen seconds to fix it - and locked up. What should she do - what COULD she do? What could she put between herself and the blastwave?... Her eyes drifted to the right, into the armoury, and a lightbulb went off. That was a POLICE armoury, after all. The builders would probably want it to be as blast-proof as a bank vault...

A prayer on her lips, Serena abandoned her position to grab the box of satchel charged, sweat running down her forehead, muscles straining to their limit, and she threw the heavy box of munitions through the door, sailing in the air like a box of bricks (which it was) and smashed down and spilled bombs onto the tile floor - with ten seconds to spare.

"What are you?!-" Lisa said, but Serena's frantic expression quieted her.

"Drop a smoke grenade and get into the armoury, the bomb's about to go off!" She yelled, graveness and suppressed panic in her tone leaving no room for argument, as, Lisa quickly did as she was told, loosing one last burst of suppressive fire, before snatching up a final smoke grenade, pulling the pin, dropping it, and running for the armoury as fast as she could, clearing the door and following Serena's example of hitting the deck, going prone in the left-hand corner, opposite the wall to Corto's office, weapon trained on the door, and waiting for the blast.

As the timer ticked down, Corto made one last swing of his axe, and finally cleared the blockage in the stairwell, and the mercenaries carefully began their probing the second floor. They quickly figured out no one was shooting back at them through the fog, and began to make a cautious ascent up the stairs.

Serena, meanwhile, took deep breaths, from the floor, under one of the tables, Lisa under another, close one, breathing deeply, feeling her heart pound under her, weapon trained on the door to the armoury. She could hear them. Their footsteps, their chatter, and she could hear her own heart making an escape attempt. She could feel her own breaths becoming quicker in pace, and more raggedy, her trigger finger feeling heavy and anxious, as she lay there, hoping the plan would work... Or wondering if she and Lisa would never be seen again, reduced to bits of detritus, buried deep underground.

"Serena?..." Lisa said,

"Yeah?-" She momentarily turned her gaze from the door to look at her friend, but they didn't get the chance to finish their conversation, because, in Corto's office, the timer hit zero, and the whole world shook.

A deafening, thunderous blast, like the roar of an angry, vengeful god rang in her ears. All the wind was knocked right out of her like she'd been hit in the gut with a sledgehammer. It felt like she was in a snowglobe that had been thrown against the wall. The lights sparked and sputtered above her before they went out for good. Her ears rang horribly, like someone was shrilly screaming in her ears. Her stomach felt like it was about to violently eject her supper, and her eyes - once she'd opened them again, were seeing double, and Serena wondered, for a moment, if she'd survived.

Serena's hearing and proper sight soon returned to her, joined by a massive headache, and a sudden, ferocious craving for nicotine, alcohol, and blood. In roughly that order. She could hear alarms ringing out from everywhere, violent swearing coming from the conference room, and soft, pained moaning from her friend, and her eyes went wide, as she realized, she was alive, and if she wanted to stay that way she'd better act - NOW!

In the darkened armoury, Serena quickly pushed herself up and dragged Lisa back to her feet - thankfully managing to avoid either of them banging their heads against the table as they rose. Serena felt completely out of it, and Lisa looked completely out of it, still dazed and stunned, while Serena's fangs buzzed awfully in her mouth, another flash of bleak hunger coming over her, and Serena gritted her teeth and swore under her breath. This was the wrong time for it to flash - she needed to focus and run like hell and leave, NOW! Serena quickly broke for the door, still dragging Lisa by the coat, who was, rapidly, coming to her senses, and did what any normal person would do in this situation, and screamed in panic.

With her right hand, Serena held her submachine gun tightly, training her muzzle into the cloud of fog, and hoping, praying, that they would get out of this. Instinctively, she squeezed out a hail of armour piercing bullets, into the smoke, as she ran into Corto's office. She wasn't too sure if she hit anything, but the string of profanity coming from her enemies' last known position reassured her - just a bit.

Evidently, one satchel charge had been more than enough - it might've been too much, actually. Corto's office looked, well... Like someone had set a bomb off in it. Almost nothing had remained standing in it, and the brick wall into the maintenance tunnel was gone - as was the rest of the wall, and the wall that office from the street below, allowing the pale, blue glow of the Metrotown to pour in. Most of the floor was blown open, revealing the lobby beneath their feet. The roof was half caved in, the carpet appeared to have been incinerated, and, out in the street, a few locals had turned up to watch their great escape!... Or, maybe just to watch the chaos unfold.

Serena found herself flashing a manic smile. They were almost home free! They were so close, she could almost taste the spray of blood on her lips!- No... She clenched her teeth. Not yet. Don't lose yourself now. Focus on the practical parts. She turned to Lisa, let go of her coat, and asked, "Can you jump over this?"

Lisa looked shocked, the question putting an unsure expression in her bespectacled eyes, as she surveyed the crater Serena had made. "I- I don't-"

Serena groaned, and, to Lisa's surprise - and worry - she grabbed her by the wrist with her free hand. No, apparently. When Lisa connected the dots, her expression turned to shock, while Serena took a deep breath, and broke out into a sprint, forcing Lisa to run as well, as Serena dragged her friend and jumped, forcing Lisa to jump with her, the two girls sailing over the crater in the floor, to the amazement of the peanut gallery below. Lisa's mouth was agape, but she didn't make a single peep.

CLANG. The sound of both of Serena's boots - followed by those of Lisa's - landed on the metal plating of the maintenance tunnel as, right behind them, Corto's titanic, heavily cyberized form poked right through the door, a look of indignant fury on his face - and a heavy machine gun, of the same sort Serena had abandoned - in his hands, and Serena quickly ran, still holding tightly onto her friend with her left hand, and loosing a hail of 5mm rounds behind her, as Corto returned the gesture, opening fire with his massive machine gun and filling the corridor with lead, as the girls ran on, a maniacal laugh escaping Serena's mouth, as shell casings bounced off the floor, putting as much distance between her and the Ecstasy Battalion as possible, with the mercenaries' data resting comfortably on the cyberdeck's hard drive, with Anabel silently poring over it...

Corto finally out of view, Serena let her friend go and just focused on her escape. The tunnel they were sprinting down, fast as their legs could carry them, reminded her of the halls of a submarine; it was pill-shaped, with reinforced sections, and all lit up with those strange eerie blue bulbs The Metrotown's new occupants were so fond of. She could hear the mercenaries yelling out something behind her, but Serena didn't bother to stop and listen - why should she bother? She'd escaped!

Serena took in deep breaths of stale air as she and Lisa ran, boots ringing on the metal floor below, and manic, triumphant laughter echoing through the maintenance tunnel. They'd done it! They'd escaped certain death, again, and, the danger getting further and further behind them, Serena couldn't wipe the massive grin off her face. They'd actually escaped!... Another round of raucous laughter rang in the tunnels, and, Lisa, nervously joined in. They'd escaped, and... Serena took a breath of that terribly stale air, tasting so sweet in her lungs. Oh, it felt so good...

The targets had escaped, and it wasn't a triumphant moment for any of them. The atmosphere in the Ecstasy Battalion's ruined headquarters was like a funeral where, somehow, everyone in the audience was responsible for the passing of the guest of honour.

Vic leaned up against the wall of the ruined conference room and surveyed the damage. A day before, they'd planned this ridiculous plan, around the long, sturdy table that now lay in bits in the stairwell, behind sturdy panels of glass that now littered the floor. The lights buzzed and occasionally flickered out overhead. Electricity had been returned to their hideout. Barely. He tracked his eyes across the gazes of his companions, standing around: Pascal and Diane, rather close together, Redmond, Corto, - he as well, he had to admit - were all slouching and leering and wearing disappointed expressions, though, the boss was on the verge of blind fury.

"First, lets' discuss the hideout." Corto said, through clenched teeth, the massive cyborg's temper only barely simmering as their emergency meeting began. Vic didn't know why he bothered - a quick look around them said everything they needed to know.

"Completely rubbished." Pascal adjusting his spectacles. His normally phlegmatic demeanour had broken somewhat. The medic looked visibly displeased - and very tired, from the black bags under his eyes and the blood on his hands and kit, and the patches and gauze on the rest of the team. Everyone had taken a few nicks, and Pascal had been very overworked. Vic found himself taping on his body armour, where, through incredibly good luck, it'd deflected a glancing shot - but hadn't stopped the bruise, or the indignity of being shot through blind luck. "Most of the furniture was..." Pascal continued, crossing his arms. "Repurposed to build those idiotic fortifications." Looking around, and back into the stairwell, said all. "The walls and floor are riddled with bullets, and they've left a mess of bullet casings and litter all over the place, and, your office is-"

A spark overhead, and then the fluorescent lights went out for a moment, bathing the ruined conference room in darkness, barely pierced by the blue gleam from the street. "-gone." Pascal continued, with a sigh. "And the power's on the fritz, despite Vic's best efforts."

Another sparkling noise, and the lights came back on, to reveal Vic crossing his arms and wearing a displeased expression. "With what I had to work with, it's a miracle the power's back on at all."

"What a stupid Goddamn plan." Diane rolled her eyes, her expression particularly irate. "Who's idea was this, anyways?"

"It should have worked!" Victor barked out, choler on his lips, and a dire look in his eyes, earning a dry stare from Diane, but it didn't bother him. "It's our own goddamn turf, with no escape route, where we controlled all the variables!"

"Yeah." Diane's dry look intensified into a death glare. "Like the ambush in the hotel should have worked." That just darkened the mood in the conference room even more. The client had contacted them after the fact that night - and sounded particularly displeased to find out the task he'd paid them to perform went horribly wrong. Victor took in a deep breath, turning his gaze to Corto for a moment - and then turning away. He... Didn't want to look at his boss right now - especially when he looked like he was about to snap into a homicidal rage at any moment.

"They got lucky." Vic found himself saying. "Twice." He took a deep breath. Their hideout should have been a cinch. It was a lure for the overly inquisitive suits, and should have been a breeze - Serena and Lisa crawled down the Metrotown looking for answers, and got more than they bargained for, but... He just groaned. It went wrong at first contact.

"She was waiting for us, again." Diane said.

"I still say it was another fluke!"

"Once is luck, twice is a pattern!-"

"I think you're both overlooking something." Pascal interrupted them with a gesture of his palm - and a sudden sharpness in his tired eyes. "The ICE." He turned towards Vic, and the hacker's eyes went wide. "You said it's the same one from the hotel."

Victor needed to pause for a moment to think, as the realization crawled onto him. No... Neither time, the girls were truly alone - this was the second time he'd ran into that Black ICE, ASSIST, whatever it was... "Serena had help." He finally said. "That program is a pattern."

"That would explain how she got into the armoury." Redmond replied, and Victor just groaned, eyes drifting down to the ruined carpet. That was the first thing they'd noticed. When they'd breached, Serena greeted them with a hail of suppressive fire from one of Corto's own heavy machine guns, but they hadn't contemplated it in full until after the girls escaped - and they saw how empty their armoury was.

"I..." Vic took a deep breath, focusing his thoughts, as all eyes fell onto the youthful hacker. "No, it shouldn't be possible for an ICE program to do that - and I can't see how Serena did it either."

Diane shot him an incredulous look. "Isn't she a hacker? She could have just hacked the door open herself."

"But she wasn't!" Vic snapped his fingers, a tense, manic look coming over him. "We SAW her - she was smoking on our porch! And she set up all those barricades with our furniture while we were trying to get in! That doesn't leave a lot of room to do any hacking!"

Redmond shot him a skeptical look with his one good eye. "Then how'd she get in, Vic?"

"Clearly the ICE - or whatever it was. - Did it for her." Pascal added.

"But that's impossible!" Vic exclaimed. "Even the strongest ICE or ASSISTs don't have the ability to crack protected systems! They don't even have the capacity for independent action!..." He paused, his tone starting to waver, and an uncomfortable laugh escaping his mouth as a worrying possibility began to worm its way into his mind. "Well, impossible unless..."

Unless what?" Corto spoke up, his rough, accented tone not inspiring any confidence, and Vic's look turned even more worried.

"Unless..." He took a deep breath. "She's got a very powerful, free-willed artificial intelligence working for her, but that's definitely impossible."

Pascal raised an eyebrow. "Impossible, how?" He said, and Vic ran a finger through messy black hair, disrupting the blue stripe - just to be cool - and leaned against the wall.

"Short answer," He explained. "Impossible for the same reason she can't have an A2 bomb laying around. Powerful, free-willed programs are some of the toughest, most expensive, time-consuming things to make. You can't mass produce them - people have tried. It's not something you can write in your bedroom. The ones big corps have are expensive and powerful... Well, employees! Not something they let random agents play with. The ones who don't work for anybody, who 'ghost,' well..." He took a deep breath. "They'd sooner kill Serena than take orders from her."

An uncomfortable stillness hung in the ruined conference room, like grave coldness. Vic's eyes drifted down - logically, it was impossible, but he couldn't find a better explanation. A third person, maybe?... Vic shook his head. If Serena had a third person in her little team, logically, the contract would have extended to them as well - and, not being in the building, they'd need some seriously wiz hardware to bypass his wireless jammer. The alternative?... Vic shuddered at the thought. He didn't want to believe that Serena had, somehow, coerced or negotiated or, bizarrely, befriended a ghost into her service. It raised too many fearsome implications and challenged everything he knew about ghosts. Whatever it was, though, it didn't change how they'd hacked open the armoury door, and-

Victor's eyes shot open with a look of terror, a shiver going up his spine. "CRAP!" was all that escaped his lips before, to the astonishment of his comrades, he made a mad dash out of the conference room, through the armoury, and back to his lair. He flicked the emergency switch in a concealed panel, and filled the whole room with stark white - handy for finding screws that had fallen. He carefully stepped around diskettes and components that Serena had carelessly knocked to the floor, and, with a tense look and a shaky hand, Victor switched his massive array of computers back on, the room erupting in the buzzing of fans and humming of machinery, and Vic took a deep, relieved sigh. His computers still worked.

"What are you doing?" Diane asked, from the doorway, Victor's heavy-lidded gaze turning to the monitors, operating system booting up, words scrolling down the command line, daemons initializing, utilities firing up, and his whole computer network roaring to life.

"Checking the system logs." He replied, fingers clattering at the keyboard of the Graphical User interface as quickly as he could. No need to slap on trodes right now. He typed in his login credentials as quick as he'd ever had, and booted up the system logs, and a cold bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck as he read off a record of everything that had happens. He gulped - it wasn't good. In fact, it was as bad as it could be...

"What's Serena done?" Corto barked, as Vic turned slowly, just in time to see his boss storm into the den, towering over him. He quickly stood up, and ran a finger through his hair again, literally shaking in his stylish punk boots. Vic's hands felt clammy, his stomach churned sickeningly, like a boat out in a storm, and he needed to take a deep breath, try to compose himself, and think of something to say that wouldn't turn the displeased expression on his boss' tanned face into one of homicidal rage... Vic took another gulp. He had to pick his next words carefully, if he wanted to live.

His first instinct was just to lie, throw everyone else under the bus, and run for it. He'd leave out the crucial thing, and just say Serena had out-hacked him, but had only cracked the armoury door. His colleagues were hardened killers - but not computer geeks. That was why they hired him. They couldn't disprove the lie - and by the time they'd found out, he'd be in Monaco or Rio De Janeiro or somewhere... He gulped.

Well, he got the impression from Corto's irritated stare that he could go all the way to Tierra Del Fuego and it wouldn't be far enough to escape. Besides... He sighed, his own jokes about professionalism now ringing in his ears like funeral bells. These guys were his business partners, and, at the end of the day, his friends, and it felt dirty to sell them out - if it wasn't for Corto taking him in, he'd probably be in jail by now. Plus... He laughed nervously, eyes drifting down. There was his pride. He was a hacker by trade, and Serena had, in fact, outhacked him. Couldn't deny that. He liked to say he was the best around, and couldn't really say that truthfully if he didn't even the score - and if he ran, he wouldn't ever get the chance...

So... He turned back to Corto's expecting face, struggling to look him in the eye through Corto's sunglasses. That just left honesty. None of them were going to like it. Victor took a gulp of air. Corto had told him to do it, but the fact Serena had gotten it was still, unequivocally, his fault, and it would take one hell of a lawyer to wriggle him out of it... He nervously laughed, as he adjusted the strap of his plate carrier. Maybe he could lessen the blow...

"Serena, or..." Vic took another deep breath. "Whoever she got to hack my server stole a lot of data from me, but, particularly..."

"Downloaded what?" There was an uncomfortable pause. Corto's tone felt like the axe he'd used only a few minutes earlier. Heavy. Sharp. Impatient. Vic broke his gaze - even through the sunglasses, it was intense.

"Downloaded a few..." Vic cleared his throat. "Confidential files relating to our backup plan to implement if the client decided to betray us..." He said, and a chill blew through the room. Everything was still for a few moments, like the eye of a hurricane, and Vic took a step back, wondering if it was over, his posture looking more relaxed, his face a bit less tense-

His eyes went wide and mouth opened in a scream, as a vicious pair of metal hands clamped down on his shoulders and slammed him into the wall, as Corto exploded in a fit of rage, and the rest of his team watched uneasily, as he yelled, "YOU LET HER DOWNLOAD THE INSURANCE?!"

"I didn't let them do anything!" Vic yelled back, scared, yet still dripping with indignation, youthful spirit burning in him as Corto threw him down onto a table. "She wasn't supposed to be able to access our systems at all!"

"Why the hell was it here?!" Corto screamed out, leaning in over the table and grabbing Vic's shoulders and violently shaking him in a fit of fury.

"Where SHOULD it have been, then?!" Victor screamed, as he tried to throw him off - which got him thrown into one of his shelves, knocking diskettes and figurines to the floor. "You said to keep it close to hand! It's a dead man's switch, Corto! Why the hell would we keep it anywhere else!? Besides!" He kept on ranting, furious indignation overpowering terror. "This whole damn thing was your idea, anyways!"

That was the wrong answer, as Corto's face twisted like a molten steel statue of the devil, and he pulled his fist back, and Victor flinched, and turned his head away and threw up his arms and-

"QUIT IT!" Pascal barked, and Vic's eyes opened in shock to see Corto's cybernetic arm being held back with both of the medic's, holding on for dear life, yet, only showing a bit of exertion on his face. In fact, he looked more annoyed, while behind him, Diane looked worried and Redmond just looked dry and irritated. "This isn't getting us anywhere!" He continued, and the mood seemed to calm down, and Corto lowered his arm, and took a step back, and Vic took in a few deep gulps of air, slowly pulling himself to his feet. "So," Pascal continued. "What is 'the insurance' you two keep mentioning? Why's it so bad that Serena downloaded it?"

"It's Incriminating evidence." Corto growled, and Vic stared at the floor.

"Incriminating evidence we'd collected to use as blackmail in case the client betrayed us." Victor elaborated. "It's a little datafile Corto had me compile when we first took on Client 286's little problem."

"I remember, you guys brought that up when we first took the job." Diane sighed. "The pay was too good to pass up, but we couldn't trust him. I still don't - the guy's a rat.

"And it was an... Interesting job." Redmond piped up, the dark-skinned getaway driver stroking his chin, a slightly... Uneasy expression on his face. "But it was personal. I don't like personal jobs. Make people unwise."

A vexed, tense look came onto Corto's face. "I thought none of you had any objections." Corto spoke up, and the room fell painfully silent.

"The job itself wasn't a problem for any of us." Pascal's expression was heavy-lidded and irritated. "Neither was the payout. Everyone was just leery over how personal it got. Corto, you know we always try to keep it professional for a reason." A distant look came in his eyes.

"The guy just showed he was... Y'know..." Vic cleared his throat again, retaining some of his nerve. "A person to watch carefully, because they'd screw you over in a heartbeat if they thought you were in the way."

Pascal cleared his throat. "So you collected blackmail on our client, to release if he betrayed us..." There was an uncomfortable pause. All eyes were on the young hacker, and Vic fidgeted a bit under the scrutiny of his colleagues. Even Pascal was starting to look irritated with him. "You do realize what's going to happen if our little insurance policy becomes public knowledge, right?"

"No one's ever going to work with us again..." Vic nervously replied. It was an understatement. The mercenary life had few rules, but those few were a matter of grave trust: Don't sell out your fellow mercs. Don't kill a teammate over loot or the heart of a woman, and, the most important one: Don't screw a client unless they screw you, first. Getting screwed by a client was an occasional occupational hazard in a merc's life. Alot of people liked to think they could have their cake and eat it: Get their job done and rub out the idiots who'd done it. Clear the evidence and keep your money.

That meant you sometimes needed to teach people a lesson. To mercs, revenge was sacrosanct. It was something that was needed to keep the business as honest as it got, and teach the world to say, 'never double-cross a merc.' At least, not more than once. The rules existed for a reason: Clients need problems solved. Mercs need to get paid. Clients need to trust their hired help. There's a going concern - mercs who are reliable will keep getting jobs, and new clients. Existing clients will know their future problems can be solved - for the right price. Everyone goes away happy. So long as the delicate little flower garden of a system stays intact...

This was different. Vic took a deep breath. Their 'insurance policy' was on the level of the short-changing dirtbags. Shady as '286' was, double-crossing him preemptively would undermine that critical trust between mercs and clients... Vic shuddered at the thought. If word got out they'd collected blackmail in anticipation of being screwed, then, they were up the dark web without a proxy. They'd be pariahs. The least of it was they'd never find work again - who'd hire someone so willing to screw you over? The bigger problem, though, was that they'd undermine trust in ALL mercs. It would get people thinking - hey, one team's done it... Are mine? Normally, the unspoken rules frowned on (overtly) murdering a rival team, but if a disgruntled team of newly out of work mercs wanted to make it personal...

"So we need to track down Serena and the blackmail file as soon as possible." Vic said, nervous and edgy and suddenly purposeful. The atmosphere in the den changed, ire bleeding out - even on Corto's face - replaced with a fell, grim determination, as they all exchanged looks. They could all blame Vic for this, but the fact of the matter, clear as a neon sign in the desert, was they were in this together, and if they didn't fix this, they were as screwed as a noob in a server full of black ICE.

"Vic, Diane." Corto barked, harsh and dispassionate. Hacker and infiltrator turned to him, alert and purposeful. "Matrix. Meatspace. Get on it." He coldly ordered - and the both of them knew what he meant. Track her and the blackmail file down - as quickly as possible, before she leaked it.

Diane wordlessly sprinted out of the den - to do her thing. Get changed out of combat gear and into something more comfortable for gathering information. Vic just took a deep breath, and quickly had a seat at his computer, quickly looking around, grabbing his cyberdeck, and plugging it, and himself in. Trodes on his messy hair, initializing the thought interface, a small grin coming to his face, Serena beginning to walk through his mind. She was definitely good. Good enough to be his rival, and... Vic took a deep breath, before it felt like a water balloon smashed into his psyche, and his world went black. He was looking forward to some sweet revenge...

Back in reality, Diane gone and Vic gone in spirit, Corto turned back to Pascal and Redmond and said, "You two, start cleaning up the hideout." They looked a bit disappointed, but Corto's harsh tone brokered no room to argue - and they had nothing else to do. Everyone had been patched up, and they didn't need a ride home. "I want a report of the damage Serena's done, everything she stole, and be ready for a call from Diane and Vic to move out once they've found her and the redhead."

"And what about you?" Pascal asked, and Corto groaned, turning to the door and heading out, pausing in the doorway to turn over his shoulder, a very resigned, and utterly joyless look behind his sunglasses.

"I have to break the bad news to our client." Corto said, irritation barely concealed in his words. "Again."

Redmond cracked a dry smile. "What, the one we was gonna betray?"

"Well," Pascal cleared his throat. "He doesn't know that... Yet."

"Ideally, he won't ever." Corto harshly cut in. "Now get to it. I've got the worst phone call in history to make..."

A look of shock flashed on the parking garage attendant's face, and he'd barely gotten the barrier up before a sleek, British racing green Jaguar peeled out of the parkade, tires screeching violently as the luxury sedan broke out onto the neon-tinted streets, skidding a bit in the snow while Serena violently fought to keep it under control and pointed where she was going, and finally, she stepped on it, the Jaguar speeding off, making long trails in the snow, like a scraper peeling white paint from the world.

Serena took a deep breath of the cold winter air through the windows, the crisp breeze in her lungs felt... Intoxicating. The wind biting her face felt like the caress of a vicious but tender lover. The sharpness of the freezing cold reminder her she was still alive. A deep, broad smile came to her face. They'd survived!

As she drove down the excitable Marine Drive, boot firmly on the accelerator, leaving the Metrotown behind as fast as the Jaguar's Eight-Valve powerplant could take them, adrenaline and panic fading from Serena's psyche, while snowflakes dancing outside their car - the ballet of wintertime having resumed while they'd been plumbing the city's anarchic depths. Her mood, safe and secure in the car and rapidly leaving their assailants as far behind as possible (hopefully for good, she mused) soon calmed a bit. With a deep breath, she'd turned from frenzy and manic fear and laughter, to a more critical, contemplative attitude, eyes focused on the snowy streets ahead, as she tried to remember where the highway entrance ramp was...

"Oh God..." Lisa groaned from the passenger seat, and Serena's red eyes momentarily drifted to her friend, sprawled out in the seat, wind utterly knocked out of her, a dazed look behind her spectacles as her chest visibly rose and fell with each deep breath. "How the hell did we do that?" She moaned, and Serena found a proud, if guilty smile creep on her face.

"I've been getting a lot better at that since..." Serena paused for a moment, wondering if this was one of Lisa's probes. "I've been enhanced." She finished, deciding her friend looked too tired to be spying properly. After the bomb went off and Serena had dragged Lisa through the hole she'd made, she'd just ran and then never stopped, dashing for the surface like the devil was at her heels, and Lisa had been forced to keep pace - with Serena's hand clamped around her wrist from the halfway point. "Plus, I've gotten into doing a lot of cardio." She added as an afterthought.

"I don't think I could even look at a treadmill right now." Lisa managed to joke, a weak smile on her face. The fact that, even with Serena dragging her, she'd managed to keep pace without tripping was impressive, but, from the exhausted, beat-up look on her face, she'd been running on fumes, adrenaline, and sheer dogged will to live. Now that they weren't in danger, her soul had caught up with her body and she'd collapsed into the seat like a sack of bricks, and definitely wasn't getting up anytime soon, so Serena decided to let her friend recuperate.

Hands on the wheel, Serena's red eyes finally spied the highway entrance ramp, off busy and excitable Marine drive, and back to the city itself. She turned the wheel to the right, turning in, feeling the incline beneath her, as her eyes went to the digital clock on the green-tinted LCD dash - and her eyes went wide. Quarter-to-one. In the morning. They'd spent the whole night in there. Serena let out a weak laugh, head feeling suddenly a bit light as the revelation crept on her. Adrenaline and panic fading, as she finally entered the eight-lane Fontaine highway, Serena felt rather aware of how... Tired, and very hungry she was.

Her mind drifted back to the curious mixture of oily smells that poured out of Anatolyn's diner, in that brief period of tranquility before Corto's men sprung the trap. Even if they did have the time to grab a bite to eat, Serena found herself wondering if she reeeeeaaaaaly trusted the hygienic practices of the underworld chefs. Besides, she cracked a smile. Dad always said not to eat before getting into a fight.

"Hey, before we head back to the hotel," Serena asked, "Do you wanna stop somewhere for a late dinner? I'll cover the tab, like I promised."

"Sorry, Serena..." Lisa took a deep breath, and turned to the open window - and Serena noticed her hazel-green eyes were closed. "I need to take a rain cheque on that. I feel like I might throw up..."

Serena just took a deep breath, and focused her eyes on the highway ahead, a long drive back to The Domes ahead of them. It wasn't a problem - she could probably get a quick snack at the hotel, and... She fidgeted a bit, an uneasy look on her face, attention half focused on the road ahead, and sprawled out form of her friend, the odd, biting, hollow feeling coming over her as her red eyes ran over Lisa, as she lay there.

The buzzing in her fangs intensified as her gaze went from her sandy brown coat, her spectacles and closed eyes underneath, over her homely face, reminiscent of the odd, platonic idea of a girlhood friend, her brilliant red hair, turned messy and raggedy by their fight, and escape. Where the lapel of her coat was, the neck of her sweater had fallen to reveal the soft, inviting flesh of her neck underneath, tinted a pale violet in the city's lights outside, so... Alluring, and tender, and Serena could practically feel the warm, sticky blood flowing underneath, bursting forth, the hot, rush of iron-

Her senses came back to her like a ton of bricks. Eyes wide, her mouth agape, fangs glistening in the neon, Serena nearly erupted in a scream and violently tore herself away, forcing her eyes ahead to the road, one hand grasping the steering wheel for dear life, and the other, with as much force, covering her mouth, a panicked, remorseful, and disgusted look in her eyes.

Had she nearly done that?... Her heart felt like it was about to burst right out of her chest. She took in deep breaths of the refreshing, cold winter air, trying to cool herself down, unbearably hot, despite wearing three layers of clothes - yet still shivering, uncomfortably reminded of the other deficiency she'd been having to suppress. She'd nearly... Lapsed, and done something unthinkable, and it only punctuated how badly she needed blood. Slowly, she pulled her right hand from her mouth, and took a deep breath. Drinking from her... Friends, was a line she swore she'd never cross. Even in the face of life or death, she tried her best to keep it. It wasn't just the practical problem of explaining it - especially when it came to someone as nosy as Lisa - but what the mingling of blood did to others.

To put it simply, when she drank from a living person, it was like she was drugging them. It made people very pleasurable - and very pliant. Even if she'd only done it a single-digit number of times, the thought of... Serena shuddered. Exploiting someone like that, making them her yielding... Blood bags, sent waves of guilt and torment crashing into her psyche. Especially her friends. She dared another quick look at Lisa - but kept her eyes off her neck. She didn't know if having a bite to drink caused any long-term effects, and Serena preferred to not find out - especially on those she cared about.

She looked over at Lisa's closed eyes, and let out a nervous laugh, before focusing back on the road. It looked like she'd actually fallen asleep this time. Serena let out a deep sigh. Lucky... She bit her lip. No one had seen her... Nearly lapsing into her... Base instincts.

Had no one seen, though?... Serena quickly looked over her shoulder, at the cyberdeck strapped in the back seat. Anabel had completely slipped her mind - but her presence hadn't been very noticeable since they'd left The Metrotown. She'd sent directions to Serena's phone to guide their escape, but that was all. The ghost had been completely silent back there, and Anabel's portrait in her monitor was unmoving, distant, and silent, eyes towards the floor, contemplative and - Serena realized, feeling uneasy - angry?... Had she been paying attention?

A nervous laugh escaped her lips. Hopefully not. Lisa would be hard enough to explain her... Medical condition to. The irony of a ghost realizing she was teaming up with a vampire was too... Serena sighed. Painful and awkward to consider. Serena thought she was clever enough to hoodwink a normal fourteen year old, but... Serena turned back to the road, an uneasy look in her eyes. She was far from ordinary, wasn't she?...

"Anabel?" Serena found herself asking.

"What is it?" She replied, very flat, her portrait not budging an iota.

"Have you found anything in the data yet?"

"I have," She seemed reluctant to admit. "But that's unimportant right now." Serena raised an eyebrow. Something about that seemed... Wrong. She took a deep breath, as she changed lanes, a deeply quizzical - and disquieted - look on her face. Hadn't the data been the whole point?

"Are you sure it's not important?" Serena asked, a bit skeptical. She turned over her shoulder again, and Anabel's expression was still. Detached. Cold. Like she wasn't really there. It was night and day compared to the desperation and... Misery, she'd exposed inside Vic's den, begging Serena to stay. She adjusted the collar of her jacket. Reflecting back on it, it was disturbing - but the violent, manic-depressive mood swings moreso. The wipers brushed off another dusting of snow and Serena's eyes sharpened, as she realized the ridiculousness of it all. "Seriously?! Your father's killers are unimportant?!" She exclaimed.

"It is important." Anabel coldly replied, and a disturbing feeling crept up Serena's spine as she connected the dots. Anabel wasn't detached - she was furious. It was a cold, Stygian fury, cold as the glare of the grim reaper. "I just don't want you two getting..." and Serena could feel a restrained, frigid viciousness in Anabel's words. "Ahead of yourselves. I'll..." Her coldness began to waver a bit, turning more openly bitter, but also... Strangely nervous "Take care of it, when the times comes, but I still have something I would ask of you..." As suddenly as it appeared, Anabel's nervousness faded, and her cold, grim attitude returned. "You still need to finish your job for Uncle Hollace and get me off the mainframe, don't you?"

"Are you saying you'll leave?" Serena asked. Anabel shook her head.

"I've been thinking about things for a bit." Anabel admitted, her expression turned more serious. "And I need a body."

The words hung awkwardly in the air for a few seconds. Serena just stared blankly out the windshield, while Lisa, from the passenger seat, as though roused from her torpor by the scent of information, began to sit up, and turned to look at her... Very confused, interested, and a bit anxious.

"What do you mean, 'a body?'" Serena looked over her shoulder again, as Anabel began to look embarrassed, eyes drifting down again.

"Do I need to get you a dictionary, Serena?" Anabel snipped at her. "I need a body. Like you and Lisa have. I need to be in the real world. I..." She paused again, choler bleeding out, a profoundly uncomfortable look coming onto her face. "I don't want to be stuck on my father's server forever."

Serena raised an eyebrow at that. "Stuck?..." She said.

Anabel paused for a few moments, icy eyes drifting downwards again, expression turning very uneasy. "I don't have anywhere else to go." She admitted. "I don't want to leave this world, and everyone else behind..." There was a troubled stillness in the car. The purring of the engine, the howling of the wind, and Serena, wordlessly, rolled the windows up. It was getting a bit too cold in here. She stared at the snow-dusted road for a while, letting the words roll around in her head a few more times for good measure. Anabel wanted a body... After they'd escaped the mercs' ambush, it didn't feel like their mission could be any more insurmountable...

"A body..." Serena repeated the words out loud to herself, hands tight on the steering wheel. How would they even do that? Was it even possible?

"It shouldn't be that much of a problem..." Lisa said, more optimistic, but still very exhausted. "It'll take a while to build, but there's a few robotics companies who can make a really good android, and plug you-"

"Not a robotic one!" Anabel snapped from the backseat, and Lisa looked surprised - and awkward. Her tone sounded irate and offended, but her face didn't look it. Anabel's eyes drifted downwards again. "I'm... Not a fake, Lisa." The redhead just nervously looked away, and an odd feeling. Guilt and sympathy, flashed through Serena's veins. Underneath her flashes of anger, Serena could feel a profound... Sadness, in Anabel's demeanour.

"But..." Serena tugged at her scarf. Regardless of Anabel's feelings - and her own - the request was... She took a deep breath. Problematic. "You want us to... Download you onto a human body, then?"

Anabel nodded in the monitor, and Serena turned back to the road, a sinking feeling in her stomach. That would be... Difficult.

"Is that even possible?" Lisa asked. Serena shrugged her shoulders.

"There's rumours." She replied. "I've heard from stories on Strangeworld that powerful AIs can posses you through your trodes and puppet your body." Her eyes narrowed a bit. "It's probably a load of crap, but even if it isn't, the stories are insistent it's a... Temporary thing."

"Temporary, how?" Anabel asked, and Serena sighed.

"A problem of capacity and processing power." Serena explained. "That burns out the host's brain, sending the ghost back to The Matrix." An uneasy pause hung in the car. "From what I've heard, weaker ones can't stay for more than a few weeks. Stronger ones burn you out in a few hours.

"So..." Lisa adjusted her spectacles.. "Impossible, then."

"Can you..." Anabel's tone was more reserved, but under the surface, Serena could feel that... Desperation, and force she'd shown in the lab. "Can you try?" An odd smile came to her face. It was weird, but she couldn't deny she felt bad for Anabel. She'd tried to kill her, and her insistence on breaking the encryption had put both their lives in jeopardy, but... Serena took a deep breath.

She was growing a fond of her, Serena had to admit. Anabel was far from ordinary - and more than the malevolent program she'd expected. She might have an attitude problem, but she was clever - and had been helpful to her and Lisa, but... Serena laughed a bit. Regardless, Anabel had got at her heartstrings, and Serena found she didn't want to leave her hanging. Plus, they needed her off the mainframe. This would fill the contract, but...

"We don't know how to do that!" Lisa finished Serena's thought, and exposed the main problem. "Besides..." She looked uneasy. "It's sort of..."

Anabel shot her a confused look. "Sort of what?"

"Unnatural!" Lisa replied, and fiddled with her glasses. "It's nothing against you, Anabel," She loosed an awkward laugh. "But you're asking us to permanently download an AI onto a human brain. It's..."

"Mad science?" Serena suggested, eliciting a nervous laugh from Lisa.

"That's one way to put it." She responded. Serena would have found her suggestion gauche, if she hadn't had several uncomfortable run-ins with mad scientists... Hell, at this point, SHE was a product of mad science.

"It's not mad." Anabel pouted, and a wry smile came to Serena's face.

"Anabel, it kind of is." She replied, and with good timing. Out the windshield, between the towering skyscrapers of downtown, Serena could faintly see The Castle, Bathrette Beautronics' fortress-like headquarters. A building full of makeup - and science. Mad science, but definitely wondrous science. Definitely disturbing science. It was the sort of science Anabel wanted. "But if you want us to try, I know someone we could ask."

"Who is it!?" Anabel's looked alert - and enthusiastic, and hopeful, and Serena just smiled fondly.

"A friend of mine." She explained. "He's a bit eccentric, but he knows his stuff. If anyone can help you, he can-

Serena was interrupted by a loud yawn, and she looked embarrassed when she resized it was coming out of her mouth. "-and we'll talk with him tomorrow." She finished. Eccentric as he was, Serena doubted he'd even be awake this late into the night, anyways.

"Welcome! Welcome!..." A man in a labcoat, with a ponytail, spectacles, and a massive, enthusiastic smile, with walnut-brown hair drawn back in a ponytail sprung forwards and vigorously shook Hollace's hand, the portly businessman's expression turning surprised - and a bit awkward, cracking a smile, trying to match the man's energy. "Pleasure to meet'cha, Mr..."

"Schwarzwalder." Hollace introduced himself, with only a bit of discomfort. "Pleasure as well, Doctor..."

"McGarahann. Bathrette Special Projects. Friend of Serena's and occasionally her physician." He introduced himself, to her embarrassment. "All my friends call me 'Gabriel'" (and never 'Gabe,' as Lisa had found.) Gabriel turned back over towards Serena, who'd been off to the side, as had Lisa, looking on - a bit awkwardly - and added, "You know, I think this is the first time you've introduced me to one of the Specials' clients."

"It's an unusual job." Serena pulled on the strap of her cyberdeck. Truth be told, it was something that she'd hoped to avoid. She'd gotten the impression Hollace wouldn't be happy with what they'd agreed to do - and, from the look in his eyes, behind an awkward smile, he definitely wasn't. Hollace HAD told the girls to keep him informed; and he was doggedly proactive. They'd just about finished breakfast when Hollace called her up and demanded and update. When he'd been told about the shootout, he'd sounded shocked - though, not very shocked - and grateful they'd survived - Once again. It was what came next that caused his displeasure.

"So he's the... Odd scientist." Hollace said, pinching his mustache, restraining himself from using the 'M' word. "Who's going to..." He sighed, deeply, visibly very frustrated. He'd tried his absolute hardest to get Anabel to reconsider, but the ghost was as stubborn as they got, and Hollace was forced to relent around the time she started threatening to leak trade secrets. "Solve our problem." He groaned. "At great expense, with my luck." Serena tugged at her collar. Again, with the money. Gabriel adjusted his spectacles, and sized Hollace up a bit. as Serena's gaze glanced around the little train station they were in.

The Castle, Bathrette's very Gothic-styled headquarters, was a large building - in some cases, too big to get around on foot. To that end, there was a system of... Serena looked over to the platform, where, it appeared the 'rails' were going up and down, like an elevator's, and, behind them, there was a lovely plate glass view of the courtyard below and the city beyond, snowflakes drifting in the winter's breeze.

The company called it a 'People-Mover.' Serena thought it was an odd mix of elevator and tram. Whatever it was, the four of them had taken it here. The station was a small, ornate one, with tiled floors and a rounded back wall, arching up into the roof and the doorway out, tucked into their own alcoves. This stop was at the Special Projects' Division. Bathrette's 'black project shop' where bleeding-edge cybernetics, like hers, were made in top secret. As well as the most secretive and fashionable makeup.

"So, you're the one who needs the body?" Gabriel flashed a cheery smile, that just made Hollace look a bit unnerved. The eccentric (not mad; important distinction) scientist had a look between a high school chemistry teacher and a burnt out hippie. He was older than Serena - with a decade and a bit on her, but he took care of himself. Apart from his ponytail, short sideburns framed his scholarly face, and he wore a mauve dress shirt, sloppily tucked into a pair of wrinkled brown slacks, and tied the look together with a vibrant tye-dyed necktie. He also wore a labcoat over it - which, Serena had read online wasn't supposed to be worn outside a lab to avoid contamination, but, she supposed, it gave him an air of scholarly authority; how else was anyone supposed to tell he had three doctorates?

"No, not me." Hollace sounded disturbed, and reluctant. It looked like he was regretting coming along. Serena snickered a bit. Gabriel could definitely have that effect on people, if he'd wanted to. "It's... My niece." He said, and now it was Gabriel's turn to look confused - even moreso when Serena's phone went off, and she sighed, and showed Gabriel the message.

"That'd be me." Anabel sent, and now, he was very, very curious.

"Anabel, right?" He flashed a smile, and snapped his fingers. "Serena mentioned you on the phone - actually, why don't you tell me the whole story?" He said, and Serena took a deep breath and began to explain what they'd been up to. Abridged, for time's sake - starting with what had happened to them at the 'Wintertide' ball, and ending with the shootout with the mercs in The Metrotown last night.

He didn't even blink at the revelation that Anabel was a digitized copy of her human namesake. Or that the mercs - who were worrying Hollace - had tried to kill her, twice. "Are you sure they're not Lazerian's men?" He had to ask, and Serena was fairly certain they weren't. He was fairly calm about it - and, Serena mused, nothing seemed to ever faze him. He'd helped her fight off Dr. Lazerian's horde of the cybernetic living dead, after all.

Gabriel was, however, very interested in Anabel's own additions, communicated through the medium of text message, and had taken the phone out of Serena's hand - without asking - and had a very inspired, excitable look in his eyes when she and Serena had explained how Anabel had been hitching a ride of sorts on Serena's cyberdeck. Though, Serena did look uncomfortable when Gabriel had said, "So, she's possessing your deck, then..." and Anabel summarized her thoughts with an " >:( " message.

"But, we're getting a bit off track, aren't we?..." Gabriel laughed, handed Serena her phone back, and adjusted his glasses. "So, we need to put the digital girl in a human body?" He asked, as casually as if he was asking her if she wanted some coffee.

"And that's why we came to you." Serena responded. It wasn't a social call. Her eyes turned back to Hollace; the portly businessman looked uncomfortable and irritated. He'd called their plan, 'an abomination of science', after all. Serena took a deep breath, and turned away, as she felt the pulsing, vicious sting of the hunger brewing inside her. That could describe herself too, she mused. She took a deep breath, and tried not to visibly fidget - or think about how badly she needed a drink of blood.

Gabriel was the man responsible for her vampiric state in the first place. Even if it had saved her life, she was still paying the price. Every time she looked in the mirror, she was reminded of what she was. An abomination of science. Serena sighed. "You are kind of the best at this sort of thing." She added, sounding a bit sarcastic.

"It's a very interesting thing you're asking me to do." Gabriel adjusted his glasses. "I don't think it's ever been done before."

A chime came from Serena's cell. "But, can you do it?" Anabel sent, and to her - and Serena's - surprise, He just smiled, and shook his head.

"Well, you know me, Serena." He laughed a bit. "Computer stuff is a bit outside my expertise, but," Gabriel gestured with his index finger. "Funny you should ask..."

"What do you mean?" Lisa asked, and Gabriel's smile widened.

"A buddy of mine's been working on a project that miiiiiiight juuuuust be what you're looking for - lets' go see if he's in today." Serena's eyes lidded as he turned to the exit, to the double doors marked 'LAB COMPLEX 11A - DEPARTMENT OF SPECIAL PROJECTS.' Sensing his presence, they slid open automatically, but Gabriel just paused in the doorway and looked over his shoulder with a warm, cheerful smile and added, "Oh, except you, Mr. Schwarzwalder. You'll have to wait on the platform."

"What?!" A look of fierce indignation flashed on his face, as he pushed past Serena and Lisa - Serena, especially, flinched, and looked cross for a moment, before composing herself - and Hollace confronted Gabriel with a harsh tone and a harsh glare and yelled out. "Why?!"

"Confidentiality, I'm afraid." Gabriel didn't even flinch, didn't seem bothered from the portly, irate businessman getting in his face, and just smiled and fixed his tie. "We do a lot of bleeding edge work in here. No offence meant, but we don't let outsiders snoop in on our trade secrets."

"But?!-"

Gabriel just made a peaceful gesture, showing both his palms. "We really appreciate how patient you're being, Mr. Schwarzwalder." He added, and Serena gave him a dry look, while Hollace gave him a dirty look.

"Well, I demand access!" Hollace barked, Gabriel adjusted his glasses, and, for a reason Serena couldn't put a finger on, a chill went up her spine.

"Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Schwarzwalder, but it's not my call to make." Gabriel explained, shrugging his shoulders, giving his best, sunniest smile - but Serena lidded her eyes. She could feel something else in his tone. Something... Oddly sharp, that she'd never heard from him before. "If you want to be cleared for access, you'll need to fill out an application, to be reviewed by my boss, The Director of Special Projects," (at the mention of Mr. Van Steyr, the chill in Serena's spine got worse.) "As well as a security committee, co-chaired by the Chief Information Officer and Head of Security, who will review it, review you, and determine what, if anything, you'll be allowed to see, and if you'll need an escort. It's a quick process - you'll get a yes-or-no response within 72 hours-"

"That's absurd!" Hollace tried to protest. "Doctor, I allowed these two," He gestured at Serena and Lisa, who looked very awkward. "Full access to my company's servers in the course of their mission!" He sounded genuinely frustrated, but it didn't seem to be affecting Gabriel at all, and he just stood there, wearing an accommodating, radiant smile.

"Well, I'm afraid I don't have the same pull as the Chairman of the board." Gabriel replied, matter-of fact. "Besides, it's need to know."

"And I have a need to know!" Hollace barked, patience draining from his face. "This whole... Downloading the damn AI onto a body, on my dime-"

"The committee will take that into consideration for your request, Mr. Schwarzwalder, I'm sure." Gabriel cut him off, a warm smile still on his face, and a naughty grin forming on Serena's. He was enjoying this, wasn't he?

"I'm not waiting three goddamn days to figure out what the hell you're planning on doing with my property!" Hollace snapped, gesturing wildly with his index finger, and Serena's phone went off, a pit forming in her throat as she read the " >>>>>:###### " Emoticon Anabel sent. She wasn't sure what to make of it, beyond that Hollace was making her very angry. "And I need to know how much this is going to cost me - your damn company has already been nickel and diming me for these two girls!" He gestured to Lisa and Serena again, who were turning a bit cross themselves.

"Well, that's..." Gabriel paused a moment, the smile momentarily fading as he pinched at his chin. "That's a good question - I'll make sure to ask, but..." He raised an eyebrow. "You're... Very focused on money."

"Why shouldn't I be?!" Hollace barked. "This is a company matter!"

"It feels more personal than that." Gabriel's eyes drifted to Serena's cell phone. "I mean, shouldn't no expense be spared for your niece?" Hollace just pinched his mustache. "And besides..." A wily smile crept onto his face. "What's the phrase?... If you have to ask, you can't afford it-?"

Hollace's expression twisted into blind fury, and he lunged forward, grabbed at Gabriel's necktie and shouted, "Don't play stupid games with me, boy! I'm coming in, and-"

Serena flinched, as she saw Gabriel's face - whom, she'd always known to wear a smile, suddenly turn very cold, as he reached up and grasped Hollace's hand by the wrist and cut him off by pulling his hand away, and saying, in a calm, deadpan tone. "I will ask you to keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Schwarzwalder. If you insist, I will have the guard escort you out. I'm doing this as a personal favour for my friend, Ms. Ramneau, on behalf of you and your niece. Now sit down." He gestured to one of the station's benches, tone clear he wasn't asking. "Come on, Serena." He took a deep breath, and turned to the doors. "Lets' go see if Jules is in today."

Hollace quietly seethed, his hands balled into fists, looking up at Serena, as though expecting her to speak up, and she just gave him a heavy-lidded stare. Finally, he relented, and took a seat, quietly murmuring to himself, about how he would not be treated this way, as, wordlessly, Serena and Lisa followed Gabriel in through the doors.

There was an uncomfortable second of silence, as the doors closed behind them, and they went to the security office opposite the train, Serena and Lisa just staring at Gabriel, eyes wide in shock, and He just nervously laughed to himself and fixed his spectacles. "What, do I have something on my face?" He asked.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Serena took a deep breath. "But I've NEVER seen you act like that."

"Well, I don't like to have to correct anyone." He took a deep breath. "But I'm not a pushover." Gabriel laughed a bit, a dry, teasing expression on his face. "What, did I give you that impression?" He said, and Serena looked a bit awkward, and went through her memories, especially when he'd revealed he'd brought his own gun to clear out Lazerian's hideout, and found herself laughing a bit.

The doors from the station led into a short hallway, with a few company motivational posters on the walls. At the end, there was a secure door and a guard checkpoint they'd all needed to show their ID to. Gabriel was clear, because he worked here. Serena was clear, since she had special authorization to be here because Gabriel needed to occasionally scan and tune her nanites. Lisa technically had a high enough security clearance (higher than Serena's, to her surprise) but since it was 'need to know.' Gabriel needed to sign a quick chitty to clear her for access.

It was the same thing he'd done last time Lisa was here, but, as the guard opened the sliding doors to let them in, the redhead had a very quizzical, curious smile on her face, and Gabriel had a guilty look, and turned away. "He didn't have to fill out a form." Lisa said. "Did he?"

"He could have." Gabriel adjusted his glasses. "Or I could sign a waiver taking responsibility and allowing him access." He admitted, and Serena's eyes went wide, and a cathartic laugh escaped her lips. "But he doesn't need to know that, does he?"

"Would you have let him in?" Serena asked, and Gabriel looked at her like she'd just asked if he'd seen that leprechaun in the ceiling."

"No, why would I?" He responded, very matter of fact.

"Is it because he grabbed your tie?"

"I can only imagine how he treats his own staff." Gabriel cleared his throat. "But, truth be told, Serena, I made my mind up when I met him."

"What, that quickly?" Serena responded, quite shocked.

"Well, they say you form an opinion about someone the instant you see them." He cracked a pleasant smile. "I got good vibes from you, from you the day we met. I think that's how I knew it'd work out so well." Serena just looked awkward - and pained, at the unpleasant memory. "What, do you trust him?" Gabriel asked.

Serena took a deep breath, and her eyes went to the floor. "I don't." She admitted, and found herself a bit shocked to hear it aloud. "He's sort of... Overly practical. He feels ruthless, if I'm honest. He likes to act all friendly and amicable - but then the real thing comes out whenever money's on the table." She sighed.

"That's the impression I got." Gabriel said, rather grim and sardonic - and as if he'd noticed he'd slipped up a bit, laughed, and adjusted his glasses, flashing a cheery smile. "Of course, he didn't prove me wrong." Though, just as quickly, he grew more serious, and leaned in, and told the girls, "Be very careful. Keep an eye on that man and take everything he says with a grain of salt. 'Whoever loves wealth is never satisfied.'"

Another chime from Serena's phone. "We will." She read off Anabel's message. "Don't worry."

"But it would also be a bit hypocritical of me to not bring this up-" Gabriel laughed a bit, and took Serena's phone again, and this time she was a bit cross.

"What happened to 'keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Schwarzwalder?'" She crossed her arms, and Gabriel adjusted his glasses, and laughed a bit.

"Fair point." Gabriel said. "May I have forgiveness for taking your cell phone?" He asked, and Serena just groaned, and rolled her eyes. "Anyways, Anabel." He got just a bit more serious, changing the subject a bit. "You're not exactly cleared to be here, either - in spirit, I suppose."

Another chime. "But I do have a need to know." Gabriel read off. "And I'm sorry for the way my uncle acted." He sounded pleasantly surprised. "Technically, he is family, so I have to apologize on his behalf."

"Well, that's very nice of you, Anabel." Gabriel said. "Serena, I thought you told me she had an attitude-"

"And," Serena cleared her throat, cutting him off with an awkward smile, and taking her cell phone back. "It'll be non-intrusive. She IS only hitching a ride on my cyberdeck - but that's all she's going to do." She took a deep breath. "She mess with our information systems, right?"

"I'll be good." Anabel sent. And a short pause, before she added, "And I don't have an attitude problem, Serena!" Then added, " >:V " She took a deep breath, and turned over to Gabriel, who wore a sunny little smile - and was avoiding her gaze.

Serena took a deep breath. No matter how many times she came here, she mused, she wondered if she'd ever get used to the Department of Special Projects. The there were three main research labs at The Castle, and they followed an ascending order of secrecy - and mad science. The primary research complex on the ground floor was where most of Bathrette's research girls were hard at work making better cosmetics, anticipating - and setting - trends in the fashion world, and the most hassle you'd have in there was swiping your keycard to get in.

The rapidly expanding cybernetics complex on the sixth floor was making strides in cybernetic enhancements for civilian and tactical markets. Being a cosmetics company, Bathrette had anticipated people might want to do more than graft blades under their fingernails or guns into their eye sockets. People might need to replace bits of themselves that were lost from injury or disease, or want cybernetics to enhance their beauty, as opposed to their fighting prowess. Still, the world being what it was, Bathrette still made a killing off killing enhancements. Serena was one such happy (for a given definition) customer (again, for a given definition.) Security there was more involved in there, but had nothing on the menacing, sea-green halls of the Department of Special Projects.

There were cameras on every corner, watching every hall, and every doorway, for one. Guards in peaked caps made the rounds and monitored every entryway. The department even had its own security office, and the headquarters of the fearsome Special Asset Protection Squad weren't far off. Formerly being of that vocation, Serena also knew the lab had its own cybersecurity team diligently monitoring the cameras and net traffic. Any intruder - physical or virtual - would have have their work cut out for them.

Serena ruffled up her hair, as she and Lisa followed Gabriel through the halls of his workplace. Despite her familiarity, it still had a menacing atmosphere to it. This lab wasn't for making better makeup or replacement hands - it was where where Bathrette's brightest and least moralistic were pushing the boundaries of what could be done with flesh and machines, in new and horrifying ways.

Her... She shivered a bit. Vampiric augmentation had come from this place, and it was where Gabriel installed them, with a cable and needle to her throat. It was also where Doctor Lazerian had begun his fervent, bloody research into immortality - beginning with animating corpses like puppets. Serena took a deep breath. All the security was probably justified, she mused. Both to make sure none of the... Work being done here escaped, and to make sure another Dr. Lazerian didn't pop up, like a death cap in a field of benign button mushrooms. As a matter of fact - she was fairly certain security had only been ramped up after the three of them had discovered the horrors Dr. Lazerian had been up to.

"Hey, Jeremy!" Gabriel waved to another scientist passing by, in another labcoat - fully buttoned up, this time, a lean looking man with frizzy, blond hair. "Is Jules in today?"

"Jules?... Yeah, he should be in BCI..." Jeremy paused, and cracked a sharp smile, eyes tracking over the two girls. "Oh, hey Serena." He'd said, and Serena just said, 'hi' back. As a result of her time here, she was... Moderately familiar with some of Gabriel's co-workers. Mostly faces - she didn't know what they did, and was a bit afraid to ask. "What'd you bring the girls for?" he laughed again. "Havin' a party?"

"Not this time." Gabriel adjusted his glasses. "Serena's got a contract, and the client needs his expertise. So, she's using the 'friend of a friend' network."

"Sounds serious." Jeremy responded, who sounded... Not. "Have fun, you guys." He smiled, waved, and went back on his way, and Gabriel went on his, and Serena and Lisa followed close behind, Serena tightly clutching the strap of her cyberdeck.

"So... What is BCI, anyways?" Serena finally found the nerve to ask.

"Biological Computer Interfaces." Gabriel replied, as they made a turn, an uneasy look coming to her and Lisa's faces. They both knew what that meant: Trodes. Means of connecting the human mind to a computer. Serena adjusted the collar of her turtleneck. The feeling of trepidation wasn't helped by the fact that she recognized the route they were taking.

"And Jules - the guy you're taking us to see - works with these things?" Lisa piped in, and Gabriel flashed a warm smile, and nodded.

"Yes, he's a neuroscientist - and that's his particular area of expertise." He said, with a chipper tone and a warm smile, contrasting the look of disquiet on Serena's face as they turned another corridor, following the signs, and taking them infront of a pair of heavily reinforced, sliding steel doors that she most definitely knew... Serena took a deep breath. She'd hoped she'd never have to see them again. The plate beside the door reading: 'Dr. Jules Elwood; Biological Computer Interfaces' was new, though.

"He's still pretty new here." Gabriel continued, swiping his ID card in the reader. "He spent a while doing research at the University of Oxford, over in the Province of England - but he's wanted to do some more hands-on development, and Bathrette needed someone with his chops. And he's a friend, so you don't need to get formal with him." He added, as the doors opened. Serena wondered if he ever made enemies; aside from Hollace, he seemed to rub off on everyone he met. Hell, he pissed her off sometimes, and Serena still counted on him as a friend.

"Jules!" Gabriel waved hello as he strode confidently into the lab, and a dark-skinned man sitting at a computer on the far side looked up from his monitor and lit up like a Christmas tree, a wide, excited smile on his face.

"Gabriel! My man!" Jules exclaimed in a Londoner's accent, jumping from his chair and rushed to greet his fellow man of science with a 'high five' and a 'down-low.' - and Gabriel was very quick with it. Jules had a short, neatly trimmed hairstyle, like a well-pruned hedge, and a smooth, thin beard lined his jaw. He and Gabriel looked on a similar fashion wavelength; open lab coat, wrinkled blue dress shirt, gray slacks, and a checker-board pattern necktie. "And, I see you've brought some friends, eh? He asked, looking towards Serena and Lisa, as the vampire pulled her cyberdeck sling.

"It's a business call this time, but they are my friends." He chipperly replied, and gestured towards both of them in turn. "Serena, Lisa, Dr. Jules Elwood. P.H.D. Jules, Likewise."

"It's... Err..." Serena shook his hand a bit awkwardly. "A pleasure."

"Likewise." He said. "Any friend 'a Gabriel's 'a friend 'a mine!" He replied, with a cheery smile, and went to shake Lisa's hand. "But, you said this was a business call. So, why don't we get down to business?"

"Lets', then..." Serena paused, a bit surprised how forward he'd been, as she took a deep breath, and took a long look around the lab. Dr. Elwood had made this place his own, with informational diagrams on the walls and odd looking prototypes in various states of assembly strewn all over. She took a deep breath - surprised at the smell. The lack of it. Not a hint of the cloying smell of disinfectant. "I'm with the... Specials." The informal nickname still felt a bit awkward to say. "And the short of it is, a client of ours might have a use for your research, Doctor."

Jules raised an eyebrow. "Who exactly, and what sort of use do you mean?" He asked, and Serena paused and wondered how to explain the situation, before sighing, and deciding to let Anabel do it. She unslung her cyberdeck, placed it on a free section of worktop, and flipped open the monitor. Gabriel and Jules watched with a curiosity that turned to shock and wonder as the portrait of Anabel came into view. Jules looked more confused, and Gabriel looked very interested.

"So that's what you look like..." Gabriel said, cracking a wily smile. "At least... Hm. I wonder if 'your avatar' is the correct term to use..."

While Anabel shot Gabriel a dry look, Jules stroked his chin and asked, "And who are you? A computer program?-

"I'm not a program." Anabel harshly replied, and Serena winced - she could see a small flash of pain in her eyes. "My name is Anabel Schwarzwalder. My father was Jonas Schwarzwalder, CEO and Studio Director of the WalderSoft corporation. I need you to download me onto a human body."

Jules didn't seem to be fazed by the request at all - like it was an everyday thing. In fact, he looked more curious. "Schwarzwalder..." He said it aloud, stroking his chin. "I've heard your name somewhere." He said, and an uneasy look came on Anabel's face, and a pit came in Serena's stomach.

"My father was recently assassinated by a gang of hired killers." Anabel explained, and Jules' eyes went wide. "You've probably read about it on the news." She sounded vexed, and reluctant to say it, and Serena could feel a twinge of pain. "Serena and Lisa have helped me find the killer and... Settle things." She said. "But to settle everything, I can't be stuck in cyberspace. I need you to transfer my... Digital consciousness into a human body."

"It's the sort of thing that's never been done before... At least, not on a long-term basis." Jules kept stroking his beard, an enthusiastic smile coming to his face. Like he considered that a good reason to do it. "But, wouldn't an android body be simpler?-"

"No!..." She sternly cut him off - yet, Serena caught a twinge of some... Desperation, and Jules adjusted his collar. "I'm a human being." She said, and Serena looked uneasy. It wasn't the time for a philosophical debate, she mused. "I need a human body to... Grow up. Live. Be... A person! I want to be a person!-! I..." She quickly broke eye contact, gaze drifting to the floor, a fierce - and upset - expression on her face. "I mean, I AM a person!-"

"I'm not gonna fight you over that, don't worry." Jules flashed a smile. "If you're insistent, then you're in the right place at the right time, Anabel. I've been working on something that, well..." He cleared his throat. "It's not purpose built for it, but can definitely do what you'll want it to." Jules turned over towards the back of his lab, and said, "If you'd all follow me, please."

The four of them - Anabel on Serena's cyberdeck, held in both arms - headed towards a workbench near his computer desk, where, beaming with pride, Jules introduced a mass of wires, circuitry, and computer components that put a chill up Serena's spine. It roughly resembled a mechanical brain parasite, resting on a model of gray matter, merging with it, but Jules had called it "My masterwork!" and introduced it as, "The next evolution in trode technology, the prototype Cyber-Brain prosthesis!"

"Trode... Technology..." Serena repeated aloud. Her eyes went wide. Her stomach rolled like a choppy sea, and her knees felt unsteady beneath her as bad memories crept in. Coldness. The stink of disinfectant and formaldehyde. The march of the walking dead. Evil laughter in her ears... She looked around at the very familiar lab. Jules had made it his, but the past lingered here, like a bad smell. "Is this stuff based on the work," She said, disgust in her tone. 'Atrocities' might be more apt. "Of Dr. Hendrick Adolphus Lazerian?"

Jules eyes went wide in shock. "How!... I... How do you know about that?!" He asked, and Serena groaned. She'd hoped to forget about it, but, she'd had a feeling it would keep popping up. She'd recognized this place from the moment she walked in. This very room was Dr. Lazerian's laboratory, and they'd searched through it, long after he'd been gone and the grisly evidence of his foul experiments had been scoured from the room, to search for clues on where the necromantic mad scientist had fled.

"Because Gabriel, Lisa, and I broke up his awful experiments." Serena dryly replied, and Jules' went from shocked to intrigued - and impressed.

He turned towards Gabriel. "You, and her, and her-"

Gabriel just smiled and shook his head. "Another time." He said. "But, yeah, Jules is... Not picking up where he left off." He turned over to Serena and Lisa, and adjusted his glasses. "Just because Lazerian went crazy on us doesn't mean Bathrette wanted to drop what he was SUPPOSED to be doing. So, Dr. Elwood joined our team after you two wrapped things up."

"The HR lady said I'd have the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to advance the field of cybernetic-neurology in a rewarding, respectful work environment." Jules flashed a smile. "The benefits package helped seal it."

"Did you need to take a psych evaluation?" Serena asked, sarcastically. She'd been cracking a joke - and was surprised when Jules sighed.

"I did." He admitted. "I guess they didn't want a repeat of Hendrick goin' batty. But that's in the past!" Jules proudly declared, with a wave of his hand. "Point is, using Dr. Lazerian's work as a base, I've been able to seamlessly mesh a computer and the human brain with a 'digital crutch!'"

"What do you mean?" Anabel said, from where Serena had put the cyberdeck down so she could look at the Cyber-Brain, and Dr. Elwood cleared his throat, and pointed to a gnarly looking point on his device.

"Like I said, it's based on existing thought-interface technology, but I've been working backwards." He explained. "I'm working with the 'pitching' rather than 'catching' part of how trodes work. Dr. Lazerian hasn't set a good point to start from, but I have no plans for mad science! The Cyber-Brain is the next step on the great march of progress!" He declared, puffing up his chest, and receiving dry looks from Lisa and Serena.

"Now," Jules adjusted his tie, and looked more serious. "A malady that is becoming increasingly prevalent in modern society is computer-induced brain damage!" Serena suddenly became much more attentive, as Gabriel and Lisa looked intrigued. "Thought interfaces have become more sophisticated, and, as the human brain becomes more intertwined with computer equipment, the risk and severity of accidents has only increased! It has become a widely known phenomenon that Computer users are suffering crippling injury through irresponsible network use!... And, being killed," Jules cleared his throat. "But, as I said, I'm not going there."

Serena leaned into the Cyber-Brain for a better look, a distant, inspired look coming over her. 'Irresponsible network use' was a colourful, if light way of putting it. 'Having your brain burned out by Black ICE or a black-hat netbattler' would be more apt. It was an occupational hazard for a hacker, and Jules' work struck a chord with her. Serena began to idly wonder, if one day, the dangers of computer hacking would be a historical footnote... "So..." She asked. "Can your device fix computer-induced brain damage?"

"Yes!... Well, no... Sort of?" Jules laughed it off. "Not yet. It's a crutch, not medicine." Serena raised an eyebrow, and he cleared his throat, and elaborated. "It cannot fix the brain, but, through secondary processors, pick up the slack of the damaged 'wetware' and allow normal cognitive action, even with degraded neural tissue! It's a replacement hand, for your mind!"

"But..." Anabel raised an eyebrow, looking interested - and very confused. "How would you use it to..." An odd look came over her for a moment. "Use it to download a digital consciousness onto a human body?"

"Simple!" Jules snapped his fingers. "The Cyber-Brain is, at the end of the day, an extension of trode technology! It's a simple matter to connect you onto it and download you onto the... Cybernetic device - bypassing any problems with the brain itself! In defiance of how AI-on-brain usually turns out, being downloaded onto the device would allow you to 'stay' on there, forever! It and the brain would work in tandem, like a multi-core processor, but far more sophisticated! Rather than just instructing, you would have full control! Like a full-body cyborg! Though..." He sighed, and his expression turned more serious. "There is a catch."

"What is it?" Serena asked, and a chill went up her spine as she looked in Jules' dark brown eyes, seeing a serious, uncomfortable expression.

"Well, to download Anabel onto a body, we, obviously, need a body." Jules said, very soberly, letting the words hang in the air for a few seconds before adding, "That is to say: A living, human body."

The acrid tang of disinfectant in her nose reminded Serena just how much she really, really hated hospitals.

They brought back bad memories. A hospital was supposed to be a place for healing the sick, but her own stays in a place like this coloured her opinion much more grimly. To Serena, hospitals always felt like places of death and infirmity. A place that brought the stab of bad news. The way the staff always tried to be polite and not to bring it up, hovering around like spectral psychopomps. The distant beeping and humming of machinery. The far-off sounds of arguments and sobs, and the disgusting, sickly-sweet smell of disinfectant that made her violently ill.

Serena cleared her throat. It was definitely her bad experiences that coloured her opinions. It was in a hospital bed where she'd learned she was terminally ill. It was a different one where she'd been confined to, for a while, like an invalid, while Gabriel worked out the kinks of her nanites. A sharp, stabbing pain flashed in her arm, and she needed to fight the urge to grasp at where the needle of the blood bag had gone in - the way she'd 'replenished' herself, before Gabriel had the genius idea of giving her a movie monster's fangs. She sighed. Yes, her own bad experiences had tainted her view of hospitals, but the scene in this pauper's ward - the sight of the girl laying motionless on the hospital bed, mother at her side, weeping softly, did very little to change her mind.

Yesterday, Jules and Gabriel had gone straight to work in finding a suitable 'body donor.' It seemed like the hardest part - finding someone to test this bleeding edge technology on. Someone to give up their existence so Anabel could... Live. Serena sighed. It was one of those things that added the prefix of 'mad' to their science. Despite Anabel's pleading and her fervent desire to live, the echo of Dr. Lazerian's horrific experiments still hung in the air, and Serena was absolutely insistent: If Anabel wanted a human body, she'd said, then they needed to find a willing volunteer. Serena's gaze drifted to the flowers on the bedside table. She should have been expecting something like this.

Gabriel was rather familiar with using medical databases and hospital records to find volunteers and 'volunteers' - it was how he and Serena had met, after all. After being introduced to the Cyber-Brain, they'd spent all day combing the medical web and Bathrette's patient lists, while Lisa helped them out - and got coffee, while Serena - in her unofficial capacity as team leader (that is to say; the fact that this was explicitly HER job that everyone else was helping her with ) had the unenviable task of explaining everything to Hollace Schwarzwalder, who was astonished - and angry to find what they were doing on his dime, but, lacking a realistic alternative, was forced to, again, quietly stew in his displeasure and allow it. Finally, after a long day and many cups of coffee, that had, unfortunately, kept Serena in The Castle and with nary an opportunity to slink off and feed, Gabriel had triumphantly announced they'd found the perfect candidate!

The words rung in her head again. She turned over to Gabriel and whispered, "Perfect Candidate?" and her friend just cleared his throat.

"Well, you have to admit." He whispered back. "She's everything we're looking for."

The chart read 'Samantha Palmer.' Fourteen years old. Golden blonde hair - radiant, despite its messy state. Slim, and elegant, with a noble bearing to her serene face, despite her working-class background. Anabel had been struck dumb, even, when she'd first laid eyes on her. Serena still remembered her words: "She looks just like me!..." Really, she WAS perfect...

She was also laying motionless on the hospital bed. Eyes closed, face blank, and her skin covered in patches and monitoring equipment. Only the pulsing of her heart monitor and rise and fall of her chest distinguished her from a corpse. Technically a volunteer, Serena mused, though, she felt a judge wouldn't see it that way. She wasn't in a condition to say 'yes' - but she couldn't refuse, either, and it made her feel a bit dirty. Samantha been what Gabriel had called 'A phenomenal stroke of luck!' back in the office, but from the tears staining her face, the girl's mother didn't see it like that.

From what Serena could gather, and from what the black-haired, slightly plump, very overworked looking nurse had been willing to tell them, Samantha's poor circumstances were... Disturbingly relevant. Apparently, she was heavily into computers, and fancied herself a hot-shot console cowgirl. Goosebumps went up Serena's neck as she'd heard it. Her parents didn't know what had happened, but it was a story Serena had heard a dozen times on the net. She'd hacked into a place she shouldn't have, and ran afoul of black ICE, a powerful, vicious AI, or a ruthless hacker. Whatever it was, the results had been much of the same.

Serena had shuddered as her mother - an older, inoffensive woman who shared her daughter's brilliant, blonde hair - told them, between floods of tears, how they'd found her motionless in her room, with a blank expression, and a streak of blood trickling out of her nose. They'd torn the trodes off, but she was gone by then. An uncomfortably familiar situation. Despite the great benefits in power and speed from doing so, hooking your brain up to a computer was inherently a bit dangerous. 'Pulling a Wilson,' was a very real threat. Serena nervously adjusted her collar, eyes drifting over to Anabel, the cyberdeck resting on a shelf overlooking the bed, and a distant expression in the ghost's eyes. She had been close to experiencing it. A bit longer, and it'd have been Serena, laying still in a hospital bed.

Everyone was quite uncomfortable. Except for Anabel, on the screen. She did look a bit disturbed, but there was an odd... purpose in her eyes. Serena couldn't quite put her finger on it. "How is she alive?" She asked, breaking the silence, and all eyes turned to her - in various states of distress and confusion, except Mrs. Palmer. She briefly looked up, a still expression in her eyes, before going back to sobbing, and Serena took a deep breath, and began to explain things. Sometimes a fatal matrix accident is just that - fatal. Dead as a doorstop. Arguably, those were the lucky ones.

The unlucky ones - like Samantha - had their mental functions completely burnt out. Serena had compared it to a lobotomy. Whatever she'd run into destroyed her sense of self, but left the lower brain functions intact. Her heart could beat. Her lungs could draw breath. Her whole system ran just fine - but the lights upstairs were broken. Her personality, memories, and dreams were gone, and Mrs. Palmer erupted into another bout of hopeless, haunting sobbing. Serena needed to open the window, and get some fresh air, feeling virulently sick to her stomach. Gabriel and Jules were more goal focused, and Gabriel turned to his research colleague, and asked, "Would it still work?"

The coldness on Jules face suddenly melted, and he bounced right back into energetic, scholarly pride. Smile on his face, hand over his heart, and complete faith in his work and the power of science as he declared, "Of course it will! This is what my invention was designed for!"

"What..." Mrs. Palmer momentarily took her hands from her puffy, bloodshot eyes, and turned towards the two scientists, face streaked with tears. "What do you mean?... What are you doing here, anyways?!" She barked, as she registered their presence fully, grief turning to indignation, and everyone fell silent. How could they... Explain things to her delicately?

The Lady Julianna free hospital wasn't directly affiliated with or contracted by Bathrette, but the phenomenon of suits needing to test their miracle cures was well known. When they'd called the hospital director to explain who they were and why they wanted to see one of the patients, he hadn't so much as blinked. This was a city of big business and big research - but they'd still need the leave of the girl's inconsolable mother...

The two scientists were a bit self-absorbed and trying to figure out the optimal thing to say. Lisa was just nervously off in the periphery of the room. Hollace was out in the hall, presumably, complaining to himself. Anabel was looking down into her, an odd, distant look on her face, and Serena took a deep breath of the crisp, refreshing winter air. As sweet as honey, compared to the choking miasma of disinfectant. She turned away from the where snowflakes were falling into the quadrangle, back over to her friends, an uneasy expression on her face, because it was looking like she'd have to do it.

She flinched. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of her neck. No, she couldn't do it... She took a deep breath. She wasn't very... Good with explaining these things - especially delicate things, but then, Mrs. Palmer locked eyes with her, and Serena found she couldn't pull her gaze away, those eyes full of tears, grief, and anger, and she took a deep breath, as she realized, she had to. An forlorn look came to her face. She'd have to...

"My co-workers and I..." Serena pulled herself from the window. She tried to focus, willing her legs to approach Samantha's bed once again. "Well, My colleague, Dr. Elwood." She changed gears, gesturing towards him. "Has invented a device that is sort of like a prosthetic hand... For the mind." She said, and Mrs. Palmer stopped sobbing for a moment, looking more confused, as Serena, running on nervous instinct, let the words fall from her mouth. "And we want to use it to download Ms. Schwarzwalder, here." She gestured to the portrait of Anabel on her cyberdeck, still staring down into Samantha's face. "Onto her body." And all hell broke loose.

Since Serena had become a blood-drinking cybernetic commando, her reaction speed had gotten a lot better - but it wasn't an issue of speed. It was a problem of will. She found that she couldn't stop Mrs. Palmer from springing up and grabbing her by the shoulders, and, with a maternal fury, like she was looking into the devil's eyes, violently shaking her like a rag doll. Serena had fought off zombies and mercenary killers, yet, she found all she could do against the onslaught of a grieving mother was go limp.

"WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?!" She yelled out, as Serena just stood there, eyes wide, unresistant. Her colleagues stood there, shocked. Lisa had nearly sprung out to intervene, but Gabriel held her back with a hand on her shoulder and an look of dire import. "WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH MY DAUGHTER!" All the while, Serena's mind was somewhere else, as she realized, to her horror, she wasn't looking at Mrs. Palmer. She was looking at Mrs. Ramneau. Her own mother.

Once, when she was a young girl, she'd managed to injure herself falling off an outdoor air purifier. She'd only took a small scrape, but the way her mother reacted stuck out in Serena's mind. She'd sounded absolutely furious, but had held her tightly in her arms, even as she'd reprimanded her. At the time, Serena thought her mother was angry with her - but now, she knew. Her mind drifted back to that day when she'd woken up in the hospital, told she had three months to live. Everything had happened fast enough her mother hadn't found out - and Serena couldn't stop her mind from drifting to what would have happened if she did. It made her stomach sick and uneasy, and her blood turn to ice, and she shivered in Mrs. Palmer's vice-like grasp. It was a terror and a grief she wouldn't have wished on anybody. Now, she was here - trapped between a murdered girl and a grieving mother.

"Dr. Elwood can explain it better but-" Serena stammered out, mind on the edge of control, not thinking properly, as Mrs. Palmer momentarily let up. "The device is like a trode helmet and we need to make sure it works by installing it on your daughter's brain and downloading Anabel's consciousness onto your daughter's body." Her brain wasn't working well enough to think of a lie - and honesty had, perhaps, been the wrong choice.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" Mrs Palmer yelled out and violently shook her again, grieved screams filling Serena's ears, and stars beginning to form in her eyes. Her companions stood nearby, watching uneasily, trying to decide whether or not to get involved. The nurse was making movements towards the door, wondering if she should call the guards. "I'M NOT LETTING YOU!" Mrs. Palmer screamed, white-hot tears streaking down the sides of her face.. "I'M NOT GOING TO LET THAT... PROGRAM POSSESS MY LITTLE GIRL!-"

"LET HER GO!" Anabel barked out, her voice like the roar of a cannon, and Mrs. Palmer turned over her shoulder, expression white-hot, as panic and nervousness flashed onto Serena's face. "AND I'M NOT A PROGRAM!"

"Anabel, wait!" Serena tried to yell out, when Mrs. Palmer's hands suddenly released her and she stumbled and nearly collapsed to the floor. She shouldn't have said that - Samantha Palmer wasn't in any condition to volunteer - and leave would need to be given by her mother - who, by the looks of things, they were in the process of making obscenely angry.

"Then who the hell are you?..." Mrs. Palmer marched up to Serena's cyberdeck, white-hot anger turning viciously cold, like a bitter, polar storm. Serena found herself a bit on edge. She was a tough girl. She could survive being violently womanhandled- but the same couldn't be said of her cyberdeck, and she really didn't want to fix it again, but... Serena gulped. She didn't know if she could to muster the will to stop her, if it came to that.

"I..." Anabel squirmed a bit under the grieving mother's glare, but steeled herself, squared her virtual shoulders, and stared right back at her with an odd mix of emotions - rattled, determined, nervous, desperate, all at once. "I am Anabel Schwarzwalder." She said, the poise and bearing of a princess facing down a barbarian warlord. "My father..." She paused. "And I, were recently murdered by a gang of hired killers."

The whole room fell eerily silent. Gabriel and Jules looked awkward. The nurse looked like a statue. Lisa just looked nervous. Even Hollace was watching with an intense look in his eyes from the hall. Serena, meanwhile, found a cold feeling creeping into her nerves at the mention of... Human Anabel? She still wasn't sure how to make the distinction. Anabel looked uncomfortable to bring it up, herself. Mrs. Palmer looked stunned. The fury and grievous rage bled out from her like she'd been stabbed in the throat.

"I've..." Anabel paused for a moment. "Asked these people to help me. I need a human body to bring the killer to... Justice." She said. A little white lie.... Serena raised an eyebrow. What had happened to 'revenge?' Was Anabel just lying well, or?... "I know I'm asking you for... A very large favour, Mrs. Palmer." Anabel continued, her tone much more solemn. "I'm asking if, on behalf of your daughter, she will... Give me a second chance... At life."

"I..." Mrs. Palmer turned away, another tear running down her cheek. "I'm sorry to hear, Anabel - and I'm sorry to say, I won't allow it. My little girl... She's... Already been..." She couldn't continue - she fell to her knees, and broke out into another haunting ring of sobbing, tears running down her face and into her sleeves.

"I... Maybe you could reconsider?" Anabel asked, a pained smile coming onto her face, and an uneasy look in her eyes.

"I can't." Mrs. Palmer replied, between choking sobs. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you... Use my little girl. I'm sorry Anabel, but she's..." Again, she erupted into rank, wet sobs. Serena wondered if the missing phrase was 'all I had in the world.' She hadn't seen a Mr. Palmer, or any siblings... Now, Serena felt worse - and felt guilty. She locked up, trying to find out what to say - what COULD she say? This was a tough enough job for priests and undertakers - she and a fourteen year old girl were unsure what to do. Her red eyes drifted down to Samantha, still and deathlike on the hospital bed. The heart monitor pulsed in time with her mother's wet sobs, weeping over the empty shell of her daughter. Serena's heart sank. Her mother said, 'no.' That was that. It felt hopeless - Anabel wouldn't be downloaded onto poor Samantha's body, and Jules' Cyber-Brain wouldn't be tested out-

Serena's eyes went wide, "Jules!" She said, turning over to him, tone and demeanour like Archimedes in the bath. "Tell her how it works!" She exclaimed, as he snapped out of it, while Mrs. Palmer looked at them with a quizzical look in her red, puffy eyes. "Tell her what you've been doing! That's the reason! We're working on a cure!"

"Yes, well..." He adjusted his necktie, as Mrs. Palmer's expression became a bit irate. "Well, Like Serena said," His Londoner's accent intensifying under the stress. "My prototype Cyber-Brain is still in the proof of concept stage, but the end-goal is making sure the..." His gaze turned to where Samantha lay. "Tragedy that happened to your daughter would be a thing of the past!" He exclaimed, confidence and inventor's pride returning to his tone. "If we test the Cyber-Brain on your daughter, she might be the last one to ever have to have to suffer this, in human history!"

"W-what?!" Mrs. Palmer looked shocked - yet, there was a sudden glow of hope in her eyes. Dr. Elwood began to explain his invention in great detail. Then, in less detail at Serena's insistence. The crux of his argument was the testing data that could be gleamed from the very unique circumstance of Anabel being installed onto a human body, could help to make the Cyber-Brain suitable for mass production, and change the world for the better! The light of science would leave another problem in the dustbin of history - and it would all be thanks to her, and her daughter's bravery!...

"I..." Mrs. Palmer began to breathe deeply and rapidly, a conflicted look in her eyes. It was a difficult decision to make. Serena didn't envy her - and she felt guilty about imposing it at all, but... "My girl..." She began to break into tears again, as Serena's red eyes went back to the hospital bed. "My little girl..." She said, staring down at Samantha's motionless body.

"It's the best that can be done for her." Serena said, guilt crashing through her veins. A lie. Another white lie. She really hoped, with all her might, Mrs. Palmer wouldn't see the logical flaw in their argument - and the guilt felt even worse as she erupted into another flood of tears. Regardless - she tried to assuage her guilt. The alternative, of doing nothing, was her daughter living like this - if you could even call it living.

"And, like I said..." Jules added. "We could ensure a tragedy like this never happens again!" He proclaimed. "Your daughter would make history! The last person to ever suffer computer-induced brain damage, and The first person to ever receive a Cyber-Brain!"

"I..."

"Please, Mrs. Palmer." Anabel piped up. Her tone sounded. Soft, yet very purposeful. It was like the voice of an angel, and all her determination, her desperation, her sheer will to live were being poured into her words. "Please let me have another chance at life. Please let me avenge my father. Please let me make sure..." She paused. "That what happened to your daughter doesn't happen to anyone else, ever again." Mrs. Palmer slowly stood up, turning to the monitor of Serena's cyberdeck, the sobbing having ceased leaving only the beeping of Samantha's heart monitor.

She and Anabel stared at eachother for a long time, saying nothing. Serena wasn't sure what to make of it. Anabel looked... Oddly calm. Mrs. Palmer looked... Oddly contemplative. Maybe they were exchanging a non-verbal communication. Or not... Serena fixed her scarf, as Mrs. Palmer looked down to her daughter, then to the rest of them, and back to Anabel, and then, she turned and went right to the open window and looked down into the courtyard, taking in a deep breath of crisp, winter air.

"You have made me deeply unhappy." She said, her tone cold, and purposeful. "I don't like this. I don't like the idea of letting a... A computer program..." She stopped, and shuddered, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. "Possess my daughter, and walk around in her skin like a puppet!" She was beginning to sound almost angry, and Serena felt goosebumps on the back of her neck, but Mrs. Palmer took a deep breath, and stared out into the distance. "But..." She paused, to sniffle, and yet more tears rolled down her face. "Being... Protective. Defensive. Begging you to... Leave her alone won't bring my daughter..." Mrs. Palmer leaned in, fully erupting into a string of sobs. "Won't bring my daughter back to me. Your words have made me unhappy, but they have moved me. I... I don't want anyone else to have to suffer... Like my daughter did. I... I hope I am the last mother to ever have to see their child go through this."

Serena took a deep breath. The mood in the wardroom had visibly changed. It wasn't celebratory - far from it, but there was a small spark of hope at the bottom of the jar. "I'll allow you to... Do it." Mrs. Palmer said, the words escaping her lips as painfully as razor wire. "You can use... My little girl. Nurse. They can do it. Tell the staff, they can have her.

A reserved, but very warm, and very gracious smile came onto Anabel's digital face. "Thank you." was all she said.

"But... You have to promise me one thing."

"Anything." Anabel said, without an iota of hesitation.

"Please take care of her." Mrs. Palmer said, turning from the window, a smile on her face, and tears on her cheeks. "Even if you're... using her body. Take care of her. She's my flesh and blood, and meant the world to me."

"I will." Anabel nodded on the screen. "I promise." From there, the wheels began to turn. The nurse vanished, and returned with a few clerks, dataslates in hand, bringing paperwork that needed doing - and Serena groaned, because she knew it would be her job. Gabriel and Jules and Anabel began to discuss the procedure around Anabel's hospital bed, and Mrs Palmer, wordlessly collected her things, went for the door, and paused in the frame. The room went silent, and she rushed to her daughter's side, and for the last time, held her by the hand, and closed her eyes.

"I love you, Sam." She said. "No matter who you are. No matter what happens. I love you, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..." She paused, leaned over, gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek, and said, "Goodbye, my everything." Mrs. Palmer stood up, silently went out the door, and disappeared.

The mood was stuffy and cold and still for a minute, but eventually, Gabriel cleared his throat, and said, "We owe it to both of them to do a good job, then." And the wheels, momentarily halted, returned to motion.

Gabriel roped Serena into the conversation about how they were going to install Anabel, her being the unofficial team leader and what he called 'the computer expert who's going to handle things in the net.' That meant she had to balance listening and filling in forms on the hospital dataslate. Hollace had forced himself into the conversation, calling himself, 'Anabel's niece and, unless your company plans to cover the cost, likely the one paying for all this extravagance!' Lisa also butted in, but hadn't called herself anything - though, Serena knew she just liked being in the loop. This was good for Serena, since she could thrust the slate into Lisa's hands and tell her to help, because she needed to ask Gabriel to repeat himself and clarify what he meant like three times now.

They needed a physical connection to the mainframe to hook Anabel up. That was clear from the outset - wireless had too many potential issues. Hollace was displeased - since they'd be on his property. Again. Gabriel and Jules would do the surgery and hardware installation, while, Serena would need to work in the net to do the software installation - what Gabriel had called, "Managing and guiding Anabel's consciousness and basically make sure she gets into the Cyber-Brain in one piece." Serena looked a bit... Unsteady at the her part, but Gabriel had just shot her a warm smile and added, "It's not that complicated, but you ARE the best here with a thought interface." She looked irritated at the flattery - but still couldn't quite suppress the smile.

"I believe in you." Anabel added, with a smile, and Serena took a deep breath, and rolled her eyes, and laughed a bit.

"I'm not saying I CAN'T do it." Serena adjusted her scarf. "But you're going to need to actually tell me what 'managing' her entails in practice.

"Have you ever had to calibrate, compile, install, and run an ICE program?" Jules asked, and Serena nodded and mm-hmm'd. Being ex-cybersecurity, it was an occasional work duty she'd had. It was a complicated and involved process of installing sophisticated equipment that had a great deal of autonomy. Even limited autonomy can be a challenge. The closest analogue she could compare it to for the less computer-minded was training hunting dogs. "It'll be like that, but a lot more complicated."

"It'll be tough, but if anyone can do it..." Gabriel added, and Serena laughed, a bit awkwardly as her eyes drifted over to his upbeat, cheerful expression - and how he avoided eye contact, and a flash of irritation crept up her spine like a spider made of magma. Oh, he was good. She was already invested in Anabel's fate - but he'd had to make it a point of pride.

"Alright then." Serena's expression turned more resolute, and her smile turned more determined. "When are we doing this?"

"As soon as we can get all the surgical and computer equipment to Schwarzwalder Manor." Gabriel replied. "I'm sure Anabel wants to have this done as quickly as possible, too."

"And, err..." Hollace butted in, pinching his mustache. "How soon is that? I need to know to send the gardener off." He sounded displeased. Much as Serena didn't quite like him, she couldn't blame him. The situation he'd hired them for had massively snowballed out of his control. Serena and Lisa had decided to talk with Anabel instead of forcing her out, and it got worse from there - and, being the client, he knew he was going to get left with the bill.

"Well..." Gabriel tapped his chin. "With how fast porters can load and drive, how quickly we can check out all the equipment, weather, traffic, how fast clerks can do paperwork, how fast Serena can do paperwork, and the distance to - wait, where is your place, anyways?"

"24 Stuart Road. In the the Domes." Hollace harshly responded, that much closer to losing his patience. "Now, how long?"

"Well, carry the four..." Gabriel continued, undaunted. "We should be able to start by around six-ish tonight, and finish before midnight!... I think."

"Well, that's good to hear, then." Serena turned over towards Hollace, who was looking a bit distant, but, when he'd noticed her eyes on him, cracked a small smile. "Your problem will be all taken care of by tomorrow morning."

"Yes..." Hollace responded, letting it hang a bit, as he wiped some sweat from his brow. "All my problems will be gone... Thanks to you."

Serena took a deep breath, a warm smile coming to her face. Even the acrid tang of disinfectant seemed less intense, now that the end was in sight. One more bit of complicated technical work and-... She clenched her teeth, black hunger flaring up in her subconscious, eyes daring to the window. They'd be done, and she could run off and have as much blood as she could drink... No... Serena tried to compose herself. She'd managed to.. Suppress it, what with the overpowering sadness of Mrs. Palmer, but now that she was gone... Serena tried to steady herself. She could feel it again. Clawing at her. More intense, and she felt foolish, and neglectful - she'd gotten too absorbed into things. She ought to have found time, made excuses, and ran off. Gabriel knew - he'd have covered for her... Serena sighed, kicking herself for being so... Irresponsible!

She laughed a bit. That wasn't going to be much of a problem, was it? They were almost done! Even if was too busy to make excuses and run again, they were almost finished! Right in time for the holidays, too. She'd be able to run for a pint of blood before dawn, and put this all behind her...

As the swirling logo on a field of black began to fade out, Phil Edinburgh had an idea of what to expect from this encrypted digital meeting: Expect the unexpected.

He'd seen - and made - all sorts of encrypted matrix servers throughout his long and infamous detective career. Usually small ones - a room or so, at most, and deleted or otherwise scrubbed clean once his business was concluded. Loose ends were unprofessional. Compared to encrypted text chatrooms, they were more complicated and expensive, but more versatile and could accommodate more people. Best of all - they were personal. You got to talk with the other person, for one, and if you were visiting, it gave you a picture of whoever was running the show. When the darkness faded fully, and Phil finally got a look around the server he'd been cordially invited to, he cracked a smile in his mind's eye - and wondered what the chessboard and pieces said about his client.

It had all started... Well, two days ago, when he'd sent Serena and her little red-headed friend into the tender mercies of the Ecstasy Battalion. He'd assumed that was that - A crying shame, but everyone's luck, even pretty girls, had to run out somewhere. Thirty minutes ago, when he'd received a secure e-mail, and Phil found himself pleasantly surprised - and relieved. Serena had survived the ambush, and that meant his client was very, very unhappy. So, the girl was definitely far from ordinary.

Phil had to admit he'd found the news quite good - but it only raised more problems. The client wasn't done - he'd told Phil, in no uncertain terms, he needed Serena and her little friends dead, and he needed it done, now. What he'd left unsaid, but Phil knew, was he was desperate. He'd almost walked, and expected the client to lose his temper - but something odd happened. The client said he'd pay him double the standard rate for this new job. When Phil read that, he'd found himself, for the first time, very uncomfortable. Prying even a few pence out of his client's hands was like pulling teeth. Him ponying up so readily said much - none of it good.

Even so... Phil found a dastardly smile coming onto his face as he read the mail. This whole situation was like a ticking time bomb. It was gonna blow up in someone's face - just a matter of when. Still, money talked alot louder than words on a screen, and there was the matter of Serena. She was dangerous. Yet Phil couldn't help being a bit... Fascinated by her. He'd need to keep an eye on her, that's for sure. This whole scheme, Phil mused, was going to crash and burn - but there was a big pot on the table... Phil still insisted on cash up front. He was a gambler at heart, not an idiot. He'd been expecting an argument, but, though the client's typing style was visually annoyed, he'd acquiesced and transferred the funds and burnt out what little confidence Phil had left. He'd definitely want to see this - it was going to be like watching a six-lane pileup.

The client's server, that he was now in looked huge - but looks in the digital world are deceiving. That's not to say it 'was' huge. The black and white chessboard under his flat-side stretched to the horizon, but it was an easy effect to make with modern technology. Phil had the impression if he took a dozen steps back, he'd bounced right up against the invisible wall that marked the illusion's boundaries. The sky overhead was an otherworldly, purple storm, lightning occasionally flashing soundlessly in the firmament overhead, and while Phil found it quite trite, it did add some atmosphere, he supposed.

The most striking part, that Phil found very droll indeed, was in continuing the chess theme, everyone's avatars were overridden, and changed to black chess pieces. Counting himself, there were six pawns and a black king. Not in and of itself unusual. In the underground, you'd want to avoid being identified, in case someone else spilled their guts. He'd seen it done for meetings before, and in the Matrix underground, he knew there were servers that imposed a strict style guide. The chess metaphor was new - and quite amusing. Someone clearly thought highly of themselves.

"So, this is your guy, then?" One of the pawns spoke up in a rough, accented tone, and Phil turned to face him. As best as he could. No metaphor; their avatars were literal chess pieces without any faces with which to face anything. They could still see, hear, and talk just fine - and despite lacking a face to read, Phil could still feel something about him. Something commanding. The way he spoke, how he seemed to dominate the virtual room, and, on close inspection, the way the other four pawns were grouped. Nominally arranged to face the black king, but they all seemed grouped a bit close to the commanding pawn.

"Yes." The King starkly replied, with a mechanical voice that had been clearly run through a speech changer. Another layer of security - his boss, evidently, needed all the protection he could get. "This is Mr. Edinburgh, a... Problem solver in my commission. Mr. Edinburgh, Mr. Corto" He turned to 'face' the commanding pawn, and Phil got the impression he would have gestured to him, if he had an arm to do so. "I believe you're already acquainted."

"Not beyond a photograph." Phil responded, his tone on the border of amused and tense. "I'd shake your hand, if I could." He definitely would have cracked a smile if he could as well.

"You're the one who sent the target our way?" Corto asked. His tone was flat, but dripping with vexation, and he put a chill in the virtual air.

"Yep. Did you give her a warm welcome? " Phil replied, dripping with sarcasm, and, if their avatars had faces, Phil would have shot him a sneer and Corto would look like he was trying to kill him with his gaze. Not the wisest gesture - so, he was in good company at least - but, Phil was well-versed in irritating the dangerous, and, so far, found Corto to be a bit... Lacking. Despite the man's bark and war history and machine gun, Serena was still alive, and Mr. Corto was having to eat humble pie.

"Enough." The King's impatient mechanical voice cut in like a butcher's knife. "You're going to be working together on this, so get along."

"Oh?..." Phil turned back to The King, his tone the verbal equivalent of raising an eyebrow. "I wasn't told about that - or what was expected of me at all."

"You've already been paid for, Mr. Edinburgh." The King admonished him, clearly unhappy about it, by his tone. Phil just had to laugh a bit at that - His boss had him there. His fault for accepting payment without even knowing what the job was, he supposed.

"I never said I was refusing." Phil sardonically shot back. That was the plain truth - he had no intentions of backing out. First, he had his reputation to consider. Secondly, there was the matter of the girl with dark hair, dark attitude, and vibrant red eyes occupying his mind's eye. "So, lets' hear the plan." He left a pause, which, in meatspace, he'd have used to sneer. "Boss."

"Watch it, boy." Corto barked, and Phil pretended to ignore him, while the other four pawns - Corto's team, presumably - sat and watched. Like dogs, Phil mused. Seen, and not heard. Did they just have nothing to say? Or, were they silent out of obedience - or fear?

"Quiet, both of you!" The King barked, the harsh, mechanical tone of the voice changer failing to conceal his irritation or impatience. "You've barely even known eachother for five minutes! I have long since run out of leeway to give either of you, so there will be no more screw-ups! I need the both of you to cooperate and work together, so if you cannot, LEAVE!"

It took a legendary amount of self-control for Phil to keep himself from erupting into a fit of laughter. He'd been around the block, dealing with crime lords, senior civil servants, MPs, C-suite execs, and movers and shakers of all sorts - and this was one of the worst attempts at pulling rank he'd ever seen. What would his boss think of he' accepted that offer? He'd been paid for already, and - Phil's mind pulled a smug, Cheshire Cat grin - his boss needed him. They both knew it - and knew he wouldn't admit it. Fortunately for him, though, this stopped being 'just business' a while ago. If it was business, he'd have taken the money and ran, but, despite the uncomfortable feeling, Phil turned back to Corto and said, "You heard him."

"My men and I will work with you." Corto responded, his tone barely shy of murderous. "If you try to screw with us, I'll put a bullet in you myself."

"I guess that's as close to 'we're cool' as I'll get." Phil dryly replied, and a groan came from one of the other pawns as the two of them - and Corto's whole gang - turned back to The King, who summoned a large panel into the air behind him, and began explaining his master plan to those who would be carrying it out. Phil was only half paying attention, picking the pertinent details - and where things could go horribly wrong. The King had all the details down to a T. He'd pulled strings to corral his enemies to a specific place, at a specific time, and the job was a typical sweep and kill, in an atypical place. This big manor house, out in the domes, and it seemed to Phil that Serena and Lisa weren't the only people the boss wanted out of his hair for good - and that was starting to worry him.

Phil was no stranger to making enemies, but the client seemed to have him beat there - making Phil concerned about the integrity of his gravy train. Everything his boss did seemed to make a new problem. Every cover up made a new issue. It could just be bad luck, but part of luck was knowing when to cut your losses and head home, while his boss still seemed to be chasing the jackpot, even as his enemy's hand got better and better. Phil didn't know what to make of it until he bothered to ask, halfway through a detail of the area of operation's floor plan, what role he'd have to play.

"You're not going to be skulking around, spinning a web of lies and misdirection this time, Mr. Edinburgh." The King dryly responded. "You're going to earn your pay packet with your gun with the rest of my men."

If Phil's avatar had eyes, they'd have gone wide in shock. "You want ME to fight her?!" He'd exclaimed, the composed mask having metaphorically fallen right off and clattered onto the floor.

"What's the matter?" Corto taunted, a vicious grin doubtlessly in his mind, if not on his face. "Scared of getting your ass kicked by a girl?"

The truth was... Yes, he was! He was scared to fight Serena - Why wouldn't he be?! She was a pleasant girl - but quite frightening, too. In their first encounter, she'd chased him down and overpowered him with little difficulty. If he got the drop on her, he might be able to take her out, but he'd rather not take that risk at all. Phil would much rather just not be enemies at all, but it was looking like it was going to come to that...

Corto, on the other hand, seemed to be thinking with his gun, and Phil wanted to rub it in that, for all his bravo and machismo, Serena had outfoxed him. Twice. In the interests of civility - and his own goals - Phil just kept it to himself, and worked on getting his mask back on... "No, I'm not." He lied. "I'm just making sure it's needed. I'm not averse to violence, but it's not my usual opening move."

"It's our final move." The King butted in. "I will not allow another failure - I want as many guns as possible on my side of the board. It ends tonight."

"Understandable, I suppose." Phil calmed down a bit, as the revelation sunk in. "I'm not about to act like I'm too good to murder anyone."

"Cleaning." Corto interrupted.

"Cleaning." Phil corrected himself, half paying attention as The King resumed his briefing. Now, it all made sense. Phil wanted to laugh aloud, but he'd have to save that for later. The final piece slid into place and completed the picture. His boss thought himself as some sort of criminal mastermind - the chess motif sang it from the rooftops. Yet, for all his planning and team of mercs at his beck and call, Phil made a realization that was, at once, terrifying and reassuring. His boss was in way over his head.

Phil tried paying a bit more attention to his boss' tone, as he drilled them on all the possible escape routes from the manor, including, the extremely elaborate basement complex beneath it. Certainly, stern and impatient, but Phil could feel a strange... Undertone to it. Desperation. His boss had managed to back himself into a corner, and this was his last hail-Mary to salvage things. He wondered if his boss knew he knew. Now, Phil couldn't help but appreciate the irony in his choice of avatar. A king piece. The man thought highly of himself, but Phil wondered if he'd thought it through. The King was the most important piece - but also barely stronger than a pawn, and if you lost it - then that was that.

With that, Phil stopped paying attention to the boss' plans entirely, and his mind drifted to his, as he ran the odds. Serena started out from a weak position, but it was getting stronger and stronger - and Phil felt his boss' luck was starting to run dry. The job had gotten strangely personal - and Phil began to think he ought to cut his losses. The last few flops were coming out, and his hand wasn't going to help him here, but... Phil suppressed a laugh, 'eyes' tracking the silent pawns that were his company - and potentially, his enemies, ebony surfaces giving no emotion to read. This table wasn't one where you came and left freely. It was going to take a bit of finagling to keep his chips, though...

Phil's head drifted back to The King's words. 'Violence was his final move.' He snickered under his breath. You had to know when to hold, fold, walk away, and hold the table at gunpoint. It might have to come to that... He flashed a wry grin in his head. It might even be more helpful to... Stack the deck, in the long run. Phil took a deep breath of virtual air as he turned over the issue in his head. The time to get out was limited, but he wasn't really in a rush, and besides... He was looking forward to seeing how The White Queen would be able to win game number three - the most lethal yet.

As the darkness began to fade from Serena's eyes, the sensation of reality hit her like a golf club to the temple. Her body felt suddenly leaden, her skin filled with pins. Her head felt light - almost hollow - and the picture her eyes showed was, for a moment, blurry and runny at the edges, and her stomach was making a violent escape attempt, spinning and thrashing as as Serena opened her mouth to moan, and pain flashed through her entire body - replaced with a new sensation. Gravity. All too much of it. Serena's mind wasn't all there yet, but the bits of her head that were in order had pierced together the problem. She was sitting in a chair when she jacked in, and now that she was jacking out, she was falling out of it.

Her red eyes went wide, her mouth opened to scream, and she instinctively threw out her hands to break her nasty fall onto the ballroom floor. Thankfully, someone had been there to catch her, and she felt a pair of hands interrupt her descent, and, with a bit of difficulty, put her upright in her seat, now in a slight slouch, with wide, panicked eyes. breathing in and out, deeply, in relief.

"That's the sort of thing I needed to talk to you about." Gabriel said, and Serena quickly turned over her shoulder, her vision cleared just in time to see a smile that made her worried - because, despite the teasing grin, he had a look in his eyes she was starting to be able to recognize - Gabriel was worried about something, too, and she had an uncomfortable feeling she knew what it was - she could feel it clawing and seizing inside of her.

"Er..." Serena sighed. "Thank you." A nervous, but gracious smile came onto her face as her red eyes quickly looked around, reorienting herself in a place she'd been dreading to return to, but where, she mused, where she suppose it all had to end. The old ballroom-turned-mainframe room in Schwarzwalder Manor. False evening's sun crept in through tall, ornate windows - they'd been ahead of schedule - that bathed the room in an unfamiliar, but reassuring golden glow. The mainframe in the back, feeling much less sinister now, was familiar, as were the disused desks and chairs. One of each she commandeered for her own use, her cyberdeck, and her MP-12 submachine gun resting on the desk's surface. There were a gang of mercs out for her blood, after all - she couldn't be too careful.

What was new was the the white, thermoplastic bunny tent that dominated the room. It was a mobile operating room, with its own small airlock and air pump connected to it, filling the chamber with a soft humming. On the side was a transparent panel, through which Serena could see Jules, dressed in surgical scrubs, calibrating the medical machinery, and the surgical table, on which their... Patient - someone who Serena had been trying to stop thinking of as Samantha Palmer - lay waiting for the work to begin. Perfectly still, like a statute - or a corpse.

Anabel herself had retreated back into the mainframe, and they'd spoken little since - mostly just to instruct her on what she'd need to do for Serena to install her properly onto the... Wetware. Serena caught a glimpse of her cyberdeck screen, spying the normal interface, and an uncanny feeling came over her. Serena had to admit that she'd gotten used to seeing the ghost girl's face on her machine.

"So, what is it?" Serena she continued, even though she knew damn well what it was. The faint... Buzzing feeling in her fangs, the tension in her throat, the vicious hollowness in her soul... She clenched her teeth. Focus.

"Well, it's a private topic." He said, voice lowering as he adjusted the surgical cap on his head, and Serena took a deep breath. Gabriel was dressed up in scrubs as well, with a face mask he wore below his chin. Cleanliness was something they weren't neglecting - they'd been very meticulous. They'd spent the whole afternoon preparing for the surgery and installation. Serena's eyes lidded - well, everyone but her was vigilant.

"Where were you thinking?" Serena whispered, and tried to put on a pleasant face - she'd seen Lisa enter the double doors in the corner of her eye, and didn't want to look suspicious. Lisa had been - reluctantly - put on 'intern duty.' They had one cyberdeck, and the installation was a one-woman task. So, she'd been doing odd jobs, moving cargo, fetching coffee, cleaning surgical equipment - and, at Serena's insistence, doing it all with her machine gun slung on her back. Gabriel found it funny, but worrying.

"I wasn't." He admitted, with a laugh, and Serena sighed and pulled the trodes off, and, wordlessly, she sat up and followed him back out the door, into a long hall, where one end led back to the kitchen and dining hall, and the other led into... "I don't know this place too well." Gabriel said.

"Me neither." Serena replied. "Hollace didn't exactly give me the tour." She couldn't exactly ask, either - their largely unwilling (and unable to stop, or otherwise overrule Anabel for that matter) patron had long since departed. Not a man of science or computers, he'd merely wished them well once they were all set up, and left for his office. He'd been in a bit of a fey, detached mood the whole time - and Serena got the impression it was because he was anticipating the bill he was going to get for all this...

"Well, it's a big place," Gabriel responded, as they passed by one of the knights on its podium, silvery armour and razor-sharp blade catching the last few golden flecks of the sunset. Serena found herself fidgeting a bit as she passed it by. Anabel had said they were nothing to worry about. She controlled the bots; she'd registered Serena and Lisa and all their allies as being 'friends,' as opposed to 'foes,' though, reassurances still couldn't take her eyes off the edge of it's sword, and couldn't keep the thought of spilled blood out of her mind, the wet, warm, crimson cascade- "Finding someplace will probably be easy." He finished, snapping Serena out of that train of thought, and making her laugh, awkwardly and nervously.

"Down here?" Serena asked, trying to take her mind off it, pointing into the passageway ahead, leading into one of the stairwells, and they both stopped, turning to look in, towards the stairs that led into the basement.

"Hm." Gabriel cracked a smile. "Good call. This'll do nicely."

"And it's far away enough that Lisa can't overhear." Serena sarcastically mused, as they stepped in, walking down carpeted stairs to the halfway-landing, and relaxing against the wall like bored high schoolers. Further down into the basement, Serena could see the manor's interior styling change - going from posh wallpaper and wood panelling to cold stonework, reminiscent of a castle's dungeon, flagstones barely lit by the evening glow, and the heavy double doors that led into the basement forlornly ajar.

"I wanted to talk about that later, as a matter of fact." Gabriel's tone was still friendly and upbeat, but had a note of seriousness to it that unnerved her a bit. "Anyways, Serena," He took one last look around, making sure they truly were alone, before turning back to her and saying, "You've been off today."

"I'm not nervous if that's what you're asking." She sighed, and crossed her arms - she knew for a fact that it wasn't, but something in her still made her deflect. That was the truth - daunting as the task was, she was still confident she could install Anabel onto... The Cyber-Brain and the body donor properly. It wouldn't be much harder than installing complicated ICE. Easier, maybe - ICE wasn't smart enough to help you along.

"That's good to hear," Gabriel flashed a warm smile, and Serena's expression turned a bit guilty, "But it's not what I was thinking of..." He paused, tapping his chin, to think of how to phrase it, and a pit formed in Serena's stomach as her eyes drifted down to the carpet and she took a deep breath. She knew it was coming- "How long has it been since you've last had a drink?" He asked, and it felt like she'd been hit with a cricket ball.

"I... Er..." She laughed, and fidgeted a bit, trying to dodge the question - and trying to not think of the bleak, dark, soul-shredding hunger, writhing inside of her. Serena shivered a bit, her tongue slack in her mouth, her throat tense, her fangs buzzing in her mouth. "It's not a problem, Gabriel-"

"You sure?" He leaned in and cocked his head, and Serena flinched, and he laughed at that, flashing a warm grin that was starting to irritate her. "I mean, I am your doctor." She calmed down enough to roll her eyes. "I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't remind you to... Attend to your needs?"

Serena ruffled the back of her hair. "You can tell I haven't... Drunk?"

"I've gotten good at seeing the tells." He said, and Serena wasn't sure whether to feel offended at or not. There was an implication in his tone, she was sure of it - one she didn't like. "You're eaiser than most, though."

Now, she looked surprised - and a bit insulted. "What do you mean?"

"You've got a bit of a tense and restless look in your eyes - more than usual, I mean." Serena shot him a harsh look. "Plus... I don't want to alarm you, but you're looking a bit pale."

Serena wasn't quite sure how to take that. It elicited some uncomfortable memories, of hospital beds, disinfectant, and all-consuming despair. Something she'd hoped to leave behind but, despite the strength and resilience the bloodthirsty nanites gave her, she was still, at the end of the day, terminally ill. Serena didn't like being reminded of that.

"I've been wanting to tell you since we met up at the office." Gabriel admitted, a bit sheepishly. "It's just that, well..."

"I know." She let out a weary groan. "You haven't been able to get me alone, and I've been too busy to go out and get a drink..."

"How long?"

"I..." Serena's countenance turned guilty and awkward, and she let out a sheepish, uncomfortable laugh, unable to look Gabriel in his bespectacled eyes as she recalled when, exactly it was, the last time she'd refilled her veins. "I've been really busy - I think it was about three days ago..."

Gabriel's eyes went wide and Serena flinched back, guilt washing over her like a torrential downpour. "Serena!" He exclaimed, more shocked than reproachful - but reproachful, nonetheless.

"I know! I know!" She closed her eyes. "I'll do it as soon as I can-"

"You might have to go, now!" Gabriel's tone was more dire, now. "You're not going to have time to do this for a while, so I think you should-

"No!" Serena harshly cut him off, flashing her eyes open, with a look of panic on her face. "Look, Gabriel..." Her eyes drifted down to the carpet. "I don't think I've told you, but..." She paused, to take a deep breath, and looked back up at her friend. "Drinking out of someone I care about is a line I don't want to cross. I've seen what it does to people."

"Serena, I'm really touched." Gabriel laughed, and flashed an amused smile, and Serena's expression turned annoyed - only a bit, because she could feel he was sincere. "Normally, I'd have offered, but I can't tonight."

"Huh?"

"I've gotta be dead sober to hold a scalpel properly!" Gabriel replied, a smile, and a shift of the glasses. "I don't know who said 'a shot of whisky straightens the hand,' but it's bunk. Doesn't work for me at all. So, tonight, I'm straight edge." He joked, and Serena groaned. That undersold it - from her own... Experimentation (one controlled experiment, and one accident) Serena learned drinking from a person had some unwholesome side effects - beyond opiate-like euphoria. She could make people more... Pliable. Suggestible. Easy to control. That didn't even consider the long-term effects. Gabriel's lab boys estimated there were none, and Serena just hoped so.

"So," She leaned back against the wall, and raised an eyebrow. "What were you suggesting?"

"I mean... we ARE in an upscale part of town." He replied. "It might not be as easy, but you could slip out and find someone to-"

"No!" Serena sourly cut him down. "I'm not a horror movie monster!"

"Could've fooled me." Gabriel cut in, and Serena shot him a dry look.

"And we're kind of out in the sticks, and I think someone's going to notice if the car's gone." Serena groaned. "Anyways, I know it's a problem," She said, "But it's not getting to me. You don't have to worry."

"You sure?"

"I'm just a bit lightheaded. That's all." She replied, trying to smile. She omitted the faint feeling, or the hollow gnawing at her psyche. A monstrous part of her that didn't exist before her... Transformation. Lurking at the back of her mind, never satisfied, only momentarily slaked. Minor issues "Besides, I'm fine if I'm jacked in." She added.

"If you say so..." Gabriel replied, his tone and face not truly convinced.

"Look." Serena groaned. "Gabriel, I promise, as soon as this is over, I'm going right home and having a drink." She said.

"And not before?"

"No, not before." Serena shook her head, and stepped off the wall, eyes widening as a sudden faintness came over her, and she needed to pause, to catch her breath.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" Serena barked, visibly a bit impatient. "Just... please trust me." She took a deep breath. "I want to go back before anyone (she really meant Lisa) notices we're gone, and get this started."

"Lets' not keep Anabel waiting, then." Gabriel adjusted his glasses, a more serious look on his face, and Serena just hoped she was right.

It was a long, tense drive in the back of the Ecstasy Battalion's van, but not uncomfortable, Phil mused. The benches weren't exactly a Bentley's leather seats, but the suspension in the white Mercury Marathon was almost buttery smooth. It matched the expressions his company wore; the trenchcoat-clad mercs all looked deadly serious, and the deadly weapons they carried only confirmed it.

Phil chanced a glance at Corto, sitting by the back doors, field-stripping his machine gun. The man briefly returned his gaze, and, even through the dense sunglasses, Phil could feel his stare boring right into him. The mercs' weren't bothering to even try to make him feel like anything but an unwanted hanger-on, which he mused, he was.

The Boss - whom they both knew by number. His, 652. Theirs, 286 - was methodical about the details. Everything was run on a tight schedule. He'd been picked up at a specific time outside a dreary parkade on Marine Drive, where people getting into shifty white vans were part of the scenery, and off they went, into The Domes... At least, he assumed so. There were no windows, or anywhere out but the back door, and nothing to see but his his four heavily-armed confederates.

Their employer had been clear on the broad strokes: Breach and sweep. Find Serena and blast her until she stopped being a problem. Or moving. The Boss hadn't mentioned it, but Corto and Vic - the kid with a blue streak in his messy black hair and a cyberdeck of his own, resting on his legs - were also very adamant about finding and destroying her cyberdeck. As well as anything computerized they could find. She was technically the only 'real' target, but, from the mood in the van, and the instructions their boss gave, neither he nor Corto would be satisfied if there was anyone left alive in the manor after they were done.

Soon, Phil had guessed they left the inner city entirely and were quickly on their way to The Domes. He still couldn't actually see out, but the van made an extended stop, and he could hear murmurs of a conversation in the drivers' cab, and then they were back on the road, Corto having finished reassembling his gun, and the faint commotion of the city outside faded completely, and the rest of the mercs looked more... Strangely focused.

"Detective." Phil was mildly surprised to hear Corto address him in his rough, accented tone - but made sure not to let it show. "Where's your weapon?" He barked, a look of barely concealed disdain behind his shades.

Phil wordlessly adjusted his hat, and unbuttoned his coat, revealing a dark, leather shoulder holster, from which he produced a large, elegant-looking handgun with a wooden, broom handle-like grip. "Don't worry." He cracked a dry grin. "I don't ever go out for a night on the town unprepared." Phil was, after all, a professional. He never left the house without his trusty Mauser 56 Jagdpistole. Though, he did wisely choose to keep it out of sight while Serena had her own handgun to his forehead.

"Looks a bit wimpy, though." Vic cracked, with what Phil felt was more bravo than sense - typical of Corto's men. A wily grin crawled onto the young hacker's lips. "You sure you don't want a machine gun? You can have mine - I'll be in the grid, anyways."

"No, no. I'll manage." Phil replied, half-joking, with a polite smile and a wave of the hand. "I think your boss would prefer if you kept it." He didn't bother correcting Vic - since, it would be alot better for secrecy if he'd thought of his gun as a peashooter. If Vic and Phil had been friends, he'd have described his weapon as a 'Hand Cannon.'

It was chambered for Mauser's custom 11.6mm 'Komet' round, a wildcat cartridge that boasted a head-splitting 2,400 joules of muzzle energy; thrice that of a .357 Magnum. It fed from a single-stack magazine fore of the trigger guard, like a rifle's, and, for tonight, Phil had taken the trouble of loading it with expensive, but highly effective tungsten-carbide coated armour piercing bullets. However, he said nothing more, and stowed the weapon back in his holster. Phil didn't want any awkward questions - like why he needed so much stopping power to get through a leather jacket.

"So, when we're there..." Phil turned back to Corto, who began to look irritated, and impatient. "Anything in particular you need me to do?"

"Shoot straight." He growled back, not even trying to hide his contempt. "If you can't make yourself useful, then stay out of our way."

"Any particular rules of engagement I should be aware of?" Phil asked. Corto just groaned, Vic just laughed, and everyone else was still.

"Yeah!" Vic piped up, a sharp grin on his face. "If it moves, kill it!"

"Well, that keeps things," Phil smiled soberly "Simple."

"Look alive." Came an interruption from the driver's cab, and the whole crew turned towards the front. "We're almost here." Redmond said.

"Right." Corto barked, and the mood shifted, going from cold and tense, to red-hot. "Weapons check." He ordered, and even Vic's humour drained, as he retrieved his submachine gun from the pegs above him, and inspected it with the others, the sounds of magazines being released and charging handles cocking filled the van. A jitterbug was making its way through the crew - but not in the same way for all of them, Phil mused. He had a feeling his colleagues were feeling that tense excitement every soldier felt before the shooting started - though, they all looked a bit more grim and purposeful than he'd been expecting. Phil couldn't help but wonder if this job had become a bit personal for them as well. As for his mood?... Phil wordlessly drew his Mauser once more, and flicked the safety catch off. He felt more like a bank robber, waiting in the lobby for the signal. The tension of being about to don the mask and strike.

"Prepare to disembark!" Corto ordered, all eyes shifting to the rear doors, the van beginning to slow down, the domes just outside, and Phil took a deep breath, taking in the odd, and unpleasant air inside - staleness, sweat and gunpowder, and it made his trigger finger itch. It was go time...

The van finally came to a stop, and Corto sprang up from his seat, machine gun in hand, and threw forward the door handles with the other, a rush of cold air flooding in, and the small pool of red light trickling out alongside four hardened mercenaries, and one less hardened private eye. Combat boots crunched the snow underneath as they briefly swept the area for hostiles, muzzles pointing around cars and other cargo vans. With everything clear, they advanced on the target, a grand, Central European-styled manor house. Lights on in the windows like a dazzling beacon in the dark, purple night sky, and the roof coated in a dense layer of diamond dust, and half cloaked by the artificial, snowy night. If Phil had been here on pleasure, as opposed to business and pleasure, he'd have stopped to take it all in, but time was of the essence, and, leaving the Ecstasy Battalion, he slunk off, behind the van, holding his weapon tightly.

Phil had a while, but not as long as he'd have liked, to develop his exit strategy. There were a few ways he could have left, many less than ideal. He could have stopped responding to his emails, cashed out, and took the first flight to Monaco, but that seemed likely to make the Ecstasy Battalion his next unwanted guests. Slipping away here had the same problem.

He slowly made his way around the side of the van, creeping gradually to the driver-side door, his wingtips leaving prints the snowfall rapidly filled, Mauser held tightly in his white-gloved hand, sticking out like an oil slick on a wedding dress. All in all, this sort of thing was easier said than done. He'd had a while to consider what he wanted out of this. Money, obviously, but he'd been paid for - giving him the rare opportunity to consider more important things. Obviously, he wanted to be out of this with his skin intact and that meant thinking long-term. His boss was the sticking point. After that meeting, Phil got the impression '652' had no long-term. Even if he won here, Phil felt his odds were pretty slim - and he wasn't getting dragged down with him.

Finally, there was the personal element. He took a deep breath of the cool air, as a smile crossed his face. Serena - and her little friends, too. Lisa the spy, Anabel the odd program with great strength of character. It had all gotten a bit too personal, and Phil snickered to himself. Oh, there was no denying he'd fallen into the trap, too - he'd grown fond of Serena especially, and found, now that lines were drawn in the snow, he preferred a future where she came on top - and not the Ecstasy Battalion or their mysterious client. That meant, it'd be good for him if Serena's problems were all solved by the time dawn broke in this walled-off bubble - and his fondness meant he'd have to bet the farm. He still wasn't quite fond enough to put himself in harms' way for her - there, admittedly, wasn't a girl in the world whose wiles could make him forget his self-preservation - but it couldn't hurt to tip the scales and help make sure none of this could come back to bite him in the ass.

"What'cha doin' back there, Ace Dick?" Redmond barked, interrupting his introspection, and Phil paused, right by the driver-side door, a winter's wind caressing his cheek, as he looked up at the dark-skinned getaway driver, Mauser firm in his hand - and out of view from Redmond's raised seat, evidently. "Shouldn't you be up on the door with the rest of the crew?"

"I could ask you the same question." Phil sarcastically responded, and Redmond just gave him a look with his one good eye like Phil had told him he'd just spent a carnal night with his sister, while the detective was busy trying to figure out which parts of the van's door were the least... Durable.

"I'm the getaway driver, moron!" Redmond harshly snapped back, and, to drive the point home, pulled his eyepatch off to reveal a concealed, skull-mounted firearm, giving Edinburgh one hell of a death stare. "Now get 'cha dumb-ass back up on the door, 'fore I blow 'ya fool head off-"

Redmond didn't get to finish his sentence or demonstrate his cybernetic weapon before a gunshot rang in the night like the crash of thunder. An 11.6mm 'Komet' round blew right through the bulletproofed window, a smoking brass hit the snow, and the crew cab of the Mercs' van got a brand new coat of red paint. "Hand's quicker than the eye, Redmond." Phil found himself cracking, a wide, self-satisfied grin on his face.

The lockpick slipped from the lock and out of Diane's hands, falling into the virgin snow covering the porch, as her eyes went wide. The sound of the gunshot rang out through the whole dome, shattering the tension like an artillery shell hitting a frozen lake, and crashing into the Ecstasy Battalion like a tallboy bomb, taking their well-lain plan and throwing it to the floor.

It was all simple in theory. The whole team: Corto, Pascal, Diane, Victor, would stack up on the door and breach the manor, like a SWAT team, like they'd done in their headquarters, the moment Diane was finished picking the lock that kept the doors of Schwarzwalder Manor secure from scoundrels and blackguards like themselves. Storm in, kill the target and anyone stupid enough to be near her, and destroy all the evidence on her cyberdeck. It was all perfect - except for one little spanner in the machine.

The four mercenaries went from tense, to shocked, to furious as they all turned towards their getaway van, just in time to Redmond tumble limp, out the passenger-side door, landing in the snow, and they all saw red. One gunshot began the song, ringing out in the constructed winter's night, joined by hundreds more, an infernal chorus of hot lead, firing up on instinct, four barrels erupting into a blaze of automatic fire. Muzzle flashes lit the sky, and dozens and dozens of shell casings joined Diane's lockpick on the ground, steam erupting where hot brass met cold snow, joined in a torrent of profanity to form an orchestra of wrath, spitting lead at their van.

Unfortunately for them, Phil Edinburgh was remarkably quick on the draw. No sooner had Diane's pick hit the snow than he'd already scrambled in and had his butt in the drivers' seat and wingtip shoe on the throttle, and by the time he'd thrown the getaway drivers' body out into the snow, and the mercs he'd betrayed responded in a storm of hot lead, the powerplant was already roaring with life and the tires were screeching on the wet snow, and he was already almost on the road, copper-jacketed bullets cutting through the soft, white snowfall as he made his escape in the stolen van.

The mercenaries' wild and wrathful marksmanship put a few holes in the bodywork, blow out a mirror, and Vic even scored a hit that blew out the passenger-side window, but their desperate attack failed to stop the van, or its driver, and the last thing the remaining for members of the Ecstasy Battalion saw, as their magazines ran dry, was their getaway van speeding off into the night, and the body of it's driver, their companion, face down in the snow, a steady flow of red staining the artificial winters' handiwork.

"THAT MOTHERLESS SON OF A-" Corto erupted into a fury like that of The Devil finding he'd been cheated out of a soul, loud enough to be heard even over the din of his machine gun firing into the snowfall, long after his companion's weapons ran dry, hands grasping it like a man trying to strangle a bitter foe, and an expression of blind hatred behind his shades. Only the crisp, winter air, and the efforts of his companions who snapped back to reality and tried to pull him back, Vic on his right, Pascal on his left.

"He's gone!" Pascal snapped, a burst of viciousness, packed with clinical melancholer, creating an odd emotional cocktail. "Save your ammo!"

Corto's finger gradually, reluctantly loosed off the trigger, last burst of gunfire sinking into the night sky, faint wisps of steam off the muzzle. In place of blind rage, he'd found himself struck silent, glaring into the distance, a grim expression behind his shades, and streaks of condensation erupting from his nose like an enraged draft horse.

"I can't believe this..." Diane found herself saying, hands loose, eyes wide in shock, as the Calico dangled from the sling off her shoulder.

"That son of a bitch!" Vic stamped as hard as he could in the snow, leaving a deep imprint on the white canvas. "I nearly gave him my gun!" He sounded shocked - and disappointed in himself, and that disappointment intensified as he cooled his jets in the night air, and a cold, morbid expression came on his face. "And Redmond's dead, now." He said, and wrinkled his nose - he could smell iron on the wind.

"It seems so." Pascal replied replied, the brief spell of anger passing, clinical antipathy taking over as he fixed his glasses. Redmond had gone still, and even from where he stood, the injury looked... Incompatible with life. "I'll be honest." He took a deep breath, and loaded a fresh magazine into his weapon, discarding the spent one in the snow. "I don't know how we'll get by without him."

He got us out of alot we really shouldn't have been able to." Diane said, an uncomfortable, wistful look in her eye, and a pained smile coming to her face. "He was always there for us."

"He taught me how to shoot properly..." Vic said, and, there were a few moments of silence that hung uncomfortably in the air, and he stepped forward on the porch to speak, a fey mood coming over him. "Alas! A legend has been cut down!" He proclaimed, raising an arm out to the winter sky. "We shall not see his like again, and the world is less for his departure!"

"Oh, cut the goddamn Shakespearean crap!" Corto suddenly interjected, springing like a viper, going from still to fired up and commanding in an instant. "Focus on what's ahead. We need to get even."

"I agree." Diane responded, renewed vigour in her words, and fire in her eyes, as she loaded a fresh magazine into her weapon. "Call us a ride, Vic. Our client has some awkward goddamn questions to answer."

"Diane, we're not just here for money anymore!" Victor cut her down, sudden alarm on his tone. "The longer we leave Serena alone with the insurance and God-knows what else on her cyberdeck, the worse it'll be for us! She could be leaking it right now! I say, waste the bitch!" He shouted, pulling the charging handle on his gun for emphasis.

"And whose fault is that?!" Diane snapped back, her face impertinent and impatient, as Vic went from alarm to furious as the two locked eyes. "We wouldn't be in this mess if you could secure your systems worth a-!"

"Enough!" Pascal's tone flared up again, and he stepped between them, planting a hand on both shoulders. "We're on the same team. Nobody gets the blame, but it's about time we cut our losses."

"What?!" Vic looked shocked - and then shifted to fury. "We're gonna lose a lot more if we don't!-"

"That's an 'If.'" Pascal cut him off. "This is a matter of 'when.'" Our getaway driver's dead, and they definitely heard the shots - there's no way we're can take them by surprise, now. "I agree with Diane. Lets' go."

"You always take her side on these things, Pascal!" Vic exploded onto him, losing his temper. "Use your goddamn head, and not your dick-"

Though, he was interrupted by Diane losing her temper as well, loudly - and painfully - smacking him right on his cheek with her bare hand, the sting ringing out into the night "SHUT. UP." She yelled out, and Victor's hand balled into a fist, and Pascal had to get between the two of them again.

"You're both acting like little kids, and I am using my head, Victor!" Pascal barked, adjusting his glasses, as Vic seethed and held his reddened cheek with his free hand. Diane crossed her arms and turned away, embarrassed, and fuming. "There's no point in staying and getting nicked!"

"Serena has our blackmail!" Victor screamed out, "She's gotta die, or we're all screwed!"

"She's going to die, then." Pascal took in another deep breath of wintry air. "But she can die some other day. Vic, you're a console cowboy - tracking down someone on the net is child's play. Edinburgh, too - he's screwed us, here. There isn't any salvaging this, so we need to get going before-"

"No. The buck stops here."Corto interjected with a grim, vicious look, and a firm hand on his weapon. "I'm with Vic. We need to finish this now, before she leaks our insurance. We're not gonna get another chance."

"But what about Redmond!" Diane gestured to the body of their friend, face-down in the snow, already accumulating a small coating of white dust, and the red, wet patch under his head growing steadily bigger, as he gradually became a morbid part of the scenery. "Are you gonna let Edinburgh get away with that?! If we hotwired that Jag, we might be able to-"

"This ain't over. Believe me." Corto continued, ice cold fury dripping from every word, tone as cold as the snow falling around them. "I'm going to make sure that son of a bitch Edinburgh suffers when I get my hands on him, but one thing at a time. Serena's here. She and him definitely planned this out, and there's our insurance. We need to clear up our loose ends now if we're going to have a future as an outfit, and I'm not prepared to trade a 'sure thing' for a 'might be.'" He took a deep breath. "The bitch dies here."

"With all due respect-" Pascal tried to interject, but Corto just silenced him with a raise of his palm, and shake of the head.

"That's an order." He growled "We breach, kill everyone, destroy any computers we find, and burn the place down. No loose ends. No witnesses."

With a deep breath, Pascal relented, a dour expression on his face, and, in a perverse parody of their original motion, the team stacked back up on the door. Less tense than the first time, but much more grim.

"Yeah, but..." Victor took a deep breath, clutching his weapon tighter, expression unsure and unsteady. "How do we break for it once we're done? Redmond's dead." He said, in a flat, wistful tone. The question hung morosely in the air like a corpse on a gibbet, as Diane scrambled down in the snow, retrieving her lockpick from where she dropped it.

"Redmond might've been ours," Corto said. "But he's not the only getaway driver in the world." Vic's eyes widened, and he turned back to his boss. The massive cyborg's expression was still cold and taciturn, but he sounded genuinely pained to have had to say that, and Vic felt it, too. Redmond wasn't just the best - he was their teammate and friend, and he was gone. "Can you get a subcontractor out here?"

"Yeah, but it won't be cheap." Vic replied, as a click came from the door, Diane hard at work disabling the ward keeping them from vengeance, and he found himself unable to look his boss in the eyes. "Subcontractors already work expensive, and an unscheduled rush job is gonna add costs."

Another click. Corto said nothing, and a bead of sweat rolled down Vic's neck in spite of the cold. "And we're out in the domes, so that's another charge to sneak in." Click. "And this is a... Pretty insane circumstance, so there's be bound to be a hazard premium."

Ka-Chunk. A sound sweeter than the whispers of a lover to the world's spies and sneaks. The last pin fell into place, the lock defeated, and the door was ready to be breached at a moment's notice. Diane took a deep bath, and stepped off to one side, steeling herself for the task ahead and watching Vic and Corto with a quizzical expression.

"Do it." Corto said, utterly emotionless, and Vic looked stunned. "This is personal. No expense spared. Disable whatever security the manor has and call our ride. In. Kill. Burn. Out. I want us gone in ten minutes."

"Well..." Vic took a deep breath. "Alright then." He said, turning back towards the door, right behind his boss, ready to breach. That settled it. Behind the manor, the very last scraps of manufactured twilight finally faded, blanketing the dome in the concealing embrace of the night. Corto took a deep breath, counted to three aloud, and then put his cybernetically-enhanced boot right through the door, kicking in the ornate, lovingly crafted slab of wood and storming in, his men on his flanks, the whole battalion wearing matching expressions of grim purpose. 'It's personal.' The words rang in Vic's mind, and a vicious, gleeful smile on his face. That's right. It wasn't about professionalism or money - it was personal. Now, the job was about revenge, and Serena was going to pay!

His colleagues bounded through the foyer, into the leftmost passage, boots clamping on the ground, snow spilling out onto the carpet, and a bitter draft filling the entryway. Vic broke off from them, going to the right and finding a nice nook to position himself in, letting out a nasty laugh, as the rush of danger filled his veins. It was personal. They all had a score to settle with Serena for her involvement in Redmond's death, but his was more than that. He'd had it out for Serena on a very personal level. She'd busted his security and stole his insurance packet and humiliated him!

Victor unslung his cyberdeck and put it on his knees, and fishing out a set of trodes from his trenchcoat. One end plugged into his deck, the other over his head. He was a decent shot in the real world with a pistol or burp gun, but in The Matrix... He let out another laugh. He was practically a god! He flew through data like he was born to do it! Black ICE was a stiff breeze, and he'd maimed a dozen corporate deckers on their own turf!

His eyes flashed with excitement as the networking application on his graphical user interface displayed an A-OK. All the better the manor's server had no tricks to block him - it'd have only kept him out for another ten seconds, at most. He'd done this dozens of times: Digitally storm in, cut the cameras, break the security systems, wipe the data, and leave, while cutting down whatever was in his way... He took a deep breath, as he made sure the trodes fit snugly on his head. This time, the mission was different. His enemy was a hacker, too, and that meant there was a non-zero chance of running into her 'in the grid.' After she'd broken into his server, and humiliated him on his own turf!... Vic couldn't dismiss her as a dime-a-dozen stuffed shirt. She was dangerous... Victor just laughed to himself, finger over his mouse button. That just made it fair - so was he.

A massive, vicious grin curled on Vic's face, as an egg cracked over his consciousness, and the world went black. She'd torn into his server and helped Edinburgh kill Redmond. It was only right for him to burn Serena's clever little mind out in turn...

It really was just like installing a program, Serena mused. Although, most programs didn't feel like they were fighting you every step of the way. Come to think of it, most programs weren't really 'alive,' or installed on 'wetware', either. Most programs also didn't carry the risk of destroying both their own code or the... Hardware you were trying to install them on. As a matter of fact, Serena mused, didn't most programs install themselves?

This wasn't an ordinary program, though. This wasn't ordinary hardware, either. Serena was deep in focus, hard at work on a first-in-the-world (possibly never done before with good reason, as a voice in the back of her mind told her) installation of a self-aware artificial intelligence onto a human body. She spoke in tongues, the long string of commands and inputs escaping her lips, as the program took form in The Matrix around her. She guided, formed, shaped, and occasionally needed to rewrite bits of code that fell out of order, melding and working through the hardware of Jules' Cyber-Brain, linking the software of Anabel's consciousness to the wetware of... A pit formed in her virtual stomach. It would probably make things eaiser to think of it as being 'Anabel's body' now, she mused. It's not like the soon-to-be former owner would be able to make much use of it.

From the 'inside,' the system of the Cyber-Brain, linked in a network with Serena's cyberdeck, the Manor's mainframe, and Anabel's soon-to-be physical body, looked very much like a brain itself... Or, like the impression of one, Serena mused. Something you would get if you had a neurologist map one out and extend it into the third dimension. Serena was working within a web of neural wires and nodes, linking bulb-like metallic clusters, like tree roots connected with mycelium, against the backdrop of a dark blue, velvet container of sorts, making Serena feel as though she was flying through the firmament, speaking aloud stars and constellations, dancing in the heavens... The illusion broken, somewhat, when her virtual eyes, drifted over patches of pulsing, reddish pink flesh. The virtual representation of where the hardware of Dr. Elwood's miracle machine met the human mind - and a sobering reminder of the need for delicateness.

The installation continued to take shape, despite its best efforts. Serena spoke the neural pathways into motion, nodes warping and deforming for their new purpose. Strings of code, converted by the compiler into a cloud of ones and zeroes, took shape, spinning into stands like molten sugar in a candy floss machine, and melding with the pathways. The program did not readily take to its new shape, and needed to be finely moulded into form, like delicate, shimmering gold leaf - and one wrong move could bring it all crashing down around her. Keeping focus, working between the lines, Serena fed Anabel's consciousness into it's new vessel. The ghost's presence on her digital mind felt like balancing the earth on her shoulders. A constant, unyielding pressure that threatened to crush her into powder, but Serena was unbothered... Almost strangely enthusiastic. One with the code.

'The Zone,' as hackers (and professionals and artists everywhere.) called it. She was in the zone, and felt so in tune with everything, the whole program working through her, exiting her mouth like the chorus of a church choir, taking new form, and being fixed and imprinted, as Anabel's program merged with its new form, and everything else felt so far away from her. That's not to say Serena was having an easy time - far from it. The endeavour demanded laser focus, and it felt like the sword of Damocles hung unsteadily overhead. The installation wasn't a one-and-done; the code had been fighting her the whole way. It felt like trying to wrangle a greased pig, or a whole pit of vipers, and Serena spent as much time correcting and reworking things as she did installing it, the program shifting in her hands like wilful, sentient potters' clay.

Though, while her conscious mind was fully engrossed with her Herculean endeavour, there was a part of her that felt more reflective on what she was doing. She'd learned a bit about sentient programs. She'd studied it in college, in an admittedly fuddy-duddy, ivory tower way. Computer science was, getting down to it, the discipline of 'building a better algorithm,' but that wasn't all it was. She'd taken two courses on artificial intelligence to get the required credits to graduate, and, despite the best efforts of the professors to keep things on the cutting edge, Serena realized, the real thing was so much more complicated - and terrifying.

Between what she'd learned about Anabel, and rumours she'd heard on the net, "Serena..." had the sneaking feeling that much of what was publicly known about digital consciousness was the tip of a vast iceberg. The rest was concealed by powerful corporate and government interests, and, if the rumours were true - The AIs themselves. The ones who were their own masters, and powerful enough to enforce that. She'd once been able to easily dismiss those rumours, but, now that she was familiar with Anabel, she was finding herself a lot more open-minded...

"Serena..." Time felt runny on the edges as she worked, chanting the instructions, forming machine code, and, like an apparatus working yarn into the wheels of a cotton gin, "Serena!" could slowly feel the installation take shape, weaving and moulding it into form, pulling the wilful program into place, melding Anabel's mind into her new home, and the pressure on her mind, began to lessen, the great globe on her shoulders shrinking as it came nearer to completion. "Serena, can you hear me?" Anabel's consciousness was fighting her less and less, like an unruly child, worn out from a temper tantrum and ready to be put to bed, and soon enough, "It's serious!" She was able to "C'mon, answer me!" Complete the installation and finally, "Wait, are you still?-... I know it's a bad time, but-"

"WHAT!..." Serena screamed at the top of her digitized lungs. With Anabel's installation complete, the ghost's consciousness no longer writhing in her grasp like a malevolent mass of eldritch ooze, she could afford to let go and completely break focus and vent her wrath into the portrait of Gabriel, staring into her cyberdeck's webcam, as he looked into cyberspace.

She regretted lashing out at him immediately. Part of it was that, for all the teasing and times he irritated her, she did count on him as a friend. Mostly, though, it was that Gabriel had a very worried look on his face his smile failed to hide. "What's wrong?" Serena asked, sounding uneasy.

"We've heard gunfire." Gabriel replied. Blunt, and not even trying to wrap it in positivity, and Serena's virtual eyes shot wide open.

Serena froze for a moment, going from shocked, to worried, and finally, choleric and jaded. "Are we being attacked by the Ecstasy Battalion?!"

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, and Serena sighed. "Sorry, remind me?"

"They're the mercs who've been trying to kill us these last few days!" She shouted, and Gabriel looked embarrassed, as he adjusted his specs, and Serena took a breath to compose herself, turning half apologetic and half annoyed. "Don't make me yell at you." She said, and Gabriel snickered.

"Will try." Came Gabriel's sarcastic response. "If it's gonna be a showdown..." He took a deep breath, not filling Serena with confidence.

"Gabriel?..."

"There isn't anywhere to run." He flatly replied. "You said it already, we're out in the sticks. The cops would take at least five minutes to arrive, and..." He sighed, expression turning uneasy. "There's our patient."

"How is she?"

"Everything seems good on our end." Gabriel said, tone perking up, and a smile crossing his face. "Jules is disconnecting the cable and stitching her back up. He says her vitals and brainwave activity are as they should be, but our equipment's detecting a..."

Serena raised an eyebrow, a sudden bad feeling sprouting up in her thought process like a weed in a tidy herb garden. "A what?"

"Well, we call it an 'output signal.'" Gabriel said, "From her Cyber-Brain."

"Outputting what, exactly?" Serena furrowed her brow a bit, wondering if this was going to be a problem.

"Well, nothing at the moment." Gabriel replied. "The brainwave equivalent of Trid static. Jules is saying it shouldn't be a problem, but-"

"Then lets' focus on the problems we DO have." Serena sharply cut back in. "Can we move Anabel at all? Will she... wake up any time soon?"

"No, don't move her!" Serena heard Jules' voice, from somewhere out of her webcam's field of view, and turned a bit worried.

"We might have to!" Gabriel said, as he turned away, which didn't help Serena's mood. "Yes, I know, but the risk is small, and we're under attack!"

"Huh?"

"Jules is saying don't move her." Gabriel said, and Serena shot him a stare. Like she didn't have ears (or, at least, her cyberdeck had a mike.)

"But we can't just leave her here if the gunmen are after us!" Serena completed his sentence, with a deep breath. "So, lets' try not to have to..."

"We're leaving her here?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

"We're NOT leaving her!" Serena cut in, a sudden flash of panic in her voice as she leaned into the panel. "I want to leave her there for as long as we can, but if we have to move her, I will - as a last resort."

"Lets' hope it doesn't come to that, then." Gabriel flashed a weak smile.

"How long will she be out for?"

"Just from some back of the envelope estimation, I'd say twelve hours, minimum." Jules interjected, poking in over Gabriel's shoulder, a panicked look on his face. "Twenty four hours ideally, but, this being such a novel procedure, there's no telling with any exactness how long-"

"Not anytime soon, then." Serena took another digitized breath of air. "That just leaves the Ecstasy Battalion."

A quizzical, nervous smile came onto Gabriel's face. "And you said we're not going to run away from them like you did the last two times?..."

"We don't have a choice." Serena glumly responded, ignoring the joke. "We don't have the time to cram everything into our cars. If we ran through the snow, they'd just shoot us there."

"Wait, you're gonna FIGHT?!" Jules sounded shocked - and afraid. Serena's expression turned stern, and a bit disappointed.

"Yes, that's the normal course of action when mercenaries break into your house, out for blood." Serena dryly responded.

"Maybe for you! I'm a man of science!" Came Dr. Elwood's response, sounding as though Serena had just asked him to climb the Chrysler building in his skivvies, and she looked confused - and embarrassed. "Besides, I don't even have a weapon!" She'd been spending too long with Gabriel, Serena mused.

"That's a bit of a mistake when you're working with Serena, my man!" Gabriel added, and to his colleague's surprise, he reached into his scrubs and pulled out what Serena had thought of as his 'spy pistol' - a sleek, silvery .380 calibre handgun. "It's a dangerous world out here!"

"I didn't know you had a gun, Gabriel!"

"Oh, I don't normally carry one." He cracked a wry smile, and stowed the weapon back in his pocket. "But, like I said, Serena's the sort of girl who has a bad tendency to run into trouble-" She just shot him a heavy-lidded stare. "So, when I'm with her, I like to be prepared, although..." He scratched his chin. "Serena, didn't you say the mercs were packing serious heat?"

"They've all got automatic weapons." Serena nodded her head, speaking very glumly and making Jules even more nervous.

"Well, way to make a guy feel inadequate." Gabriel cracked another smile, Serena rolled her eyes, and Jules locked up - unsure if that was a joke.

"Look, borrow my machine gun." Serena's avatar gestured over to her left, where, again, out of sight, her MP-12 lay, ontop of the pile of webbing and spare magazines that now, she was very glad she'd insisted on bringing. "I don't want you dying." She added.

"What about you, though?" Gabriel asked, already running his bespectacled eyes over the weapon, turning it over in his hands, looking quite impressed. Serena, meanwhile, paused at that, thinking for the moment, before her eyes went wide, and a sharp smile crossed her face as the revelation hit her.

"I'm still going to be in the system for a bit." Serena replied. "I'm going to turn on the security system to give you guys a bit of leeway." She found herself looking past Gabriel and Jules, over to one of the knights, standing at the ready, armour and sword glimmering in the light. There were at least a dozen of the things in the manor, she mused... Her smile turned a bit wry. Especially after one of them had cut her cyberdeck nearly in half, it would be nice to see someone else on the ends of their swords for a change...

"Well, what about us?" Gabriel asked.

"Is Lisa still there with you?"

"I'm here, I'm here!" She interjected, poking around Gabriel's right shoulder (on Serena's left), tan coat open, revealing her webbing, and her own MP-12 slung on her shoulder. "I've just been... Trying to get ready."

"I need you guys to hold off the Ecstasy Battalion for a bit." Serena said, with reluctance. It was difficult to ask, and the words only escaped her virtual lips with some force. "Until I get the security bots up and attacking. I'll be able to join you guys after that, and we'll settle things." She wasn't eager to send her friends into the fray, but they were all she could call on.

"Are you sure you don't need the machine gun, then?" Gabriel asked, looking concerned. They all looked concerned - and worried. Especially Lisa, who was trying to look composed, but Serena could see panic slipping in through the cracks, and it was making her a bit uncomfortable.

"You can put it to use better than I can right now." Serena shook her head. "And I can take care of myself." She cracked a small, determined, but nervous smile. "Don't worry about me." She really hoped it was true. Digitally, she felt fine. Nervous, but fine. It was going back into the real world and the sudden overpowering need for blood that she was afraid of.

"Well, what about me?" Jules asked, all eyes turning to the non-combatant.

Serena shrugged her virtual shoulders. "Can you fight?"

"I've never even shot a firearm before!..." Jules replied, a bit embarrassed, and a bit frazzled.

"Then..." Serena groaned, annoyance and guilt coming over her, as she said, "I guess you should hide somewhere and try not to die. No offence."

"Well," Jules adjusted his necktie. "Under the circumstances I suppose It'd be rude to take any." He said. "Should I call back to the castle for help?"

"I..." Serena put a finger to her chin, as her eyes drifted off, staring into the blue firmament of the Cyber-Brain's code. "Hm. Maybe not." She said. "Even if we flew agents out here, their ETA would still be... Like, eight minutes; they'd have to go by car for the last leg. It's still too long to make a difference. We might need to call in a cleanup team after we're done, though - I don't want to leave any evidence for the cops to collar us with."

"All..." Jules cleared his throat. "Alright then."

"Well, I guess that's our battle plan, then." Gabriel dusted his hands and cracked a chipper smile - though, everyone else still looked more tense and uneasy. "Unless there's anything else to do, Ready to rock?"

Serena paused for a moment. She was a bit torn. She wanted to shout at her friend for being so casual about this!... She also wanted to be grateful that he could be so casual about this, and, from how nervous everyone else was, maybe that was the right way to go about it. "I think that's it..." She said, and tried to match the gesture - though, her smile was was a bit more tense... "And then maybe we..." She laughed, a bit awkward as the thought crept up on her, but not enough to stop her from blurting out, with a broad, nervous, excited smile, "We should have a new years' eve party after this!"

"Huh?" Lisa, Gabriel, and Jules all responded in unison. Lisa surprised, Gabriel excited, and Jules completely bewildered.

"Well, it's the 20th, isn't it-?"

"21st." Gabriel corrected her.

"Either way, by then, Anabel will definitely be awake," Serena's tone perked up a bit, "And we'll be able to look back at this and laugh." Gabriel looked enthusiastic at that, Lisa looked like she was warming to it. Jules was still in a state of discombobulation. "We're probably all gonna be busy with family on Christmas, anyways, so this could be... Something fun!"

"It's a deal, then." Gabriel replied, putting a hand on the shoulders of both his companions in meatspace for emphasis, cracking a smile and saying, "Well? Lets' give the Blissful Company-"

"Ecstasy Battalion!" Serena and Lisa corrected him in unison, and, at that, an awkward laugh escaped Lisa's lips, diffusing the tension - a bit, and putting a slightly fuzzy feeling in Serena's heart.

"A warm welcome." Gabriel said, pulling the MP-12's charging handle, and making for the door, Lisa quickly following behind him. Jules stood there, nonplussed for a moment, before bolting to find a hiding spot, leaving Serena all alone with... She peered over to the right of the screen, where Gabriel had moved an occupied office chair over. She could even see the wire that connected her cyberdeck to... Herself.

She took a deep breath, an uncomfortable feeling creeping up her virtual spine. Serena had no issue with using a thought interface, but, when cameras were involved, it sometimes led to... Awkward situations. Serena looked at her physical body for a few moments, slumped in the seat. Eyes open and unseeing. Blinking occasionally on reflex. Staring off into nothing. Her mind was in here, after all. She found these sorts of... Out-of-body experiences to be unpleasant ones, but this wasn't the time for that. Serena just shook her head and dismissed the panel with a gesture, turning off her view of... Herself, and flew up, away from her handiwork, the firmament getting thinner and thinner, her expression turned focused and determined. As she was fond of telling Gabriel, there was a time to contemplate the self - and right now was the wrong time. What was important was make sure she and her friends survived this.

Soon enough, the blue firmament faded completely, replaced with that unreal purple glow that, by now, had stopped unnerving her. She was a welcome guest on the Schwarzwalder Manor's mainframe, wasn't she? Serena quickly got her bearings of where she'd emerged from. The blue firmament of the Cyber-Brain's code was now a small, blue sphere, the size of a cue ball, hovering above an empty operating table, slowly fading from existence. Jules disconnected it, and Serena's presence no longer sustained it, the program link was disappearing, until it was initialized again.

The operating table right beneath it had once been occupied. Before Serena had begun her work, Anabel (the digital one, and now Serena wasn't sure how to make the distinction) had lain down here, waiting for her to begin. They hadn't spoken too much - mostly asking her diagnostic questions and instructing her what to do... Serena paused. A memory creeping into her mind. Before they'd started, she'd asked Anabel, "Are you sure this is what you want?" One last time. Just to make absolutely sure.

"I..." She remembered Anabel said. "I have to. I can't stand be like this any longer."

"Like what?"

"I have to live, Serena." Anabel had said, and that was that... Or was it? Serena paused in her tracks... No, it wasn't - Anabel had said something else, and Serena felt guilty at having gotten so wrapped up in her work she'd even managed to let Anabel saying, "And, just in case," slip her mind.

"Just in case what?" Serena had said, what felt like an eternity ago (but was only about... An hour and forty minutes?... She wasn't really too sure.)

Anabel, for the first time, gave her a warm smile. Not vicious or churlish, but a warm, reserved, gentle smile, like a dense cover of clouds, parting to reveal the morning sun. Thank you." Anabel had said. Their last exchange before Serena had begun her work, and now, almost two hours later, she sped off into the digital halls of the manor, determination and purpose in her steps, and on her face.

The search program took the form of a glowing blue trail in the carpet that Serena followed through the virtual halls like a trail of breadcrumbs, as fast as her digital legs would carry her. The only reason she wasn't flying was because she'd had one flight program on her program manager, for an emergency. The way it worked was simple. She summoned a program in the shape of a blue, glowing homing pigeon into existence, bade it search for the security system, and off it went, leaving a trail of blue dust behind it for Serena to follow. The same sort of tool she'd use in a database to find something specific - and the trail led her someplace she hadn't expected.

On her first visit, she'd gone (or, more accurately, Anabel had chased her) up to the purple-tinged manor's second floor, but now, Serena's search program was leading her down, into the stairwell, where, in the real world, the stairs leading to the cellar had been. Time being in short supply, Serena vaulted right over the railing and down into the bottom, where, red virtual eyes widened into a shock that turned quickly into irritation when she saw her path stymied by a dense, impenetrable wall of frigid, glowing blue ICE.

ICE stood for "Intruder Containment and Expulsion." For the most part, when you said, 'ICE,' most people assumed you were talking about the semi-autonomous programs that guarded high-security digital areas, to kick out would-be intruders, or delay them long enough for a security decker to arrive and finish the job. That wasn't the only type of ICE you could install, however, and a much more literal type of ICE stymied Serena's progress. The blue trail ended right infront of a pair of frozen-over double doors.

Serena shook her head, and bitterly groaned. Being a cybersec-tech, she should have at least considered it; it WAS poor form to leave security protocols completely unguarded. Blocker ICE was was a less common and less reactive type of security program. It was less popular, but still found use on occasion. The way it worked was simple - it physically blocked off anywhere you wanted to keep people out of. Authorized users could pass through it, but everyone else had to be content with staying on the wrong side of an impenetrable frozen wall. The reason it was unpopular was because it couldn't act; patient hackers could take it apart, given enough unsupervised time to crack at it... Serena wasn't patient, and she didn't have the time, and that's why she didn't bother.

With a word of command, her outstretched forearm began to mould and change, flowing like molten metal into a new form. A massive, wicked sledge hammer of black iron. An ICEbreaker. If you weren't patient, Serena mused, you had to be resourceful. It was one of her attack programs - and a very strong, and pricey one. She'd gone through some trouble to get her hands on it, and had saved it for a situation like this. When you absolutely, positively need to destroy ICE in your way, accept no substitutes.

Serena took a step back and wound her arm back, then jumped forwards, swinging the hammer overarm, driving the head right into the ICE, where it impacted with a loud shattering sound, shaking the whole server around her. She cracked a smile. It was tough; one hit hadn't quite done it, but her hammer's head had made massive, deep cracks in the ICE, splinters of virtual cold littering the carpet under her avatar's dress shoes. Another step back, another wild, overhead swing into the ICE, and the cracks widened with another splintering sound. Bigger, more solid chunks of ICE flew off with each swing, until, on the sixth go, Serena's hammer hit the ICE and kept going, shattering the barrier into glowing, blue fragments at her feet, exposing the steel doors behind it, and doing in a few seconds what could have taken upwards of an hour to do manually.

The word of dismissal left her mouth, and Serena's forearm once again flowed and melted and reverted back to its original shape, the ICEbreaker no longer needed. Serena opened and closed her grasp, and, with her hand back to normal and a look of satisfaction on her face, Serena stepped forwards, into the door, pushing it open with her hand and exposing the room beyond that Serena felt looked... Almost like a tomb.

In stark contrast with the manor's purple glow, the security room was bathed in sickly, bluish green light, as eldritch flames danced in richly carved stone sconces, casting dense, black shadows onto the flagstone floor. Six pillars divided the room into three sections: A central area and two sections on either side that Serena noticed contained stone sarcophagi, nestled in their own alcoves of the ancient-looking stone brick walls. On the lid of each one, a resplendent carving of a knight in mail, holding a sword, laying as if waiting for the clarion call to rise and begin the war anew. The designer had even put in a bit of dust that scattered at her feet as she stepped in.

What had immediately caught Serena's eye was the dais and masterfully carved stone throne at the opposite end of the doors, that dominated the room. A tattered red carpet led up to the dais, wires ran from it to the caskets lining the walls, and the throne itself was topped with a carving of twin dragons, wings outstretched, leering at the door - yet less terrifying than what sat in it. A knight, in black, polished armour that reflected the dancing eldritch flames, stared right back at her, and Serena would have been unnerved if she hadn't met that program before. As it was, she was merely surprised.

"Salutations." The knight said, in a stiff tone. Anabel's virtual knight. No name given or needed. "I Detected An Intruder. I Did Not Expect You."

"I'm sorry to intrude, but there's a situation in the real world." Serena stepped to the dais, kicking up dust as she went, still a bit tense. "We're under attack by a gang of mercenaries." She said. "I need to activate the security bots - and make sure their targeting parameters recognize my people as friends." She was expecting to need to call a cleanup crew, later.

"As You Command." Anabel's knight said, and with a ping, dozens of blue sparks flashed down the wires, one going into each casket.

Serena looked confused for a moment, and raised an eyebrow "Huh?"

"I Have Updated The Friend-Or-Foe Targeting Parameters To Recognize Personnel Of Bathrette Beautronics As Allies." Anabel's knight clarified. "They Will Be Allowed To Come And Go As They Please. "Anabel Has Already Recognized Your Allies In The Manor As Friendly Targets."

"You're the one who controls the security systems?" Serena asked.

"Yes. I Am The Control Unit For The Security System." A 'bingo' look came in Serena's eyes, and she looked around, tracing the wires from the throne, running into the stone caskets, and the gears in her head turned.

"Are the caskets a part of the control network?"

"They Are A Means To Digitally Link And Control The Security Drones." Anabel's knight replied, unemotional as ever. "They Are Autonomous, But Can Be Directed, Activated, And Deactivated From Here.

"Turn them on!" Serena snapped, desperation in her tone, and another dozen green sparks flashed down the wires, from the throne one in each casket - the whole dozen of them now glowing with a pale, green light.

"It Is Done As You Have Asked." That just gave Serena pause, and she needed to collect her thoughts for a moment before an odd realization came over her.

Why ARE you listening to me, though?" She asked, gesturing with her index finger and thumb. "I thought you took orders from Anabel?"

"I Am Authorized To Accept Commands Only From Admin-Level Users." It non-answered. "However, My Protocols Require That I Protect Mr. Schwarzwalder's Daughter. Anabel Is Not Here. Emergency Intruder Protocols Activated. Cannot Defer. No Admin-Level Users Online. Backup Routine Engaged. You Are Cleared For System Access. Your Companions Are Registered As Allies. Probability Of 0.9802 To Anabel's Safety Compromised By Disallowing First Command. Probability of 0.9987 To Anabel's Safety Compromised By Disallowing Second Command. Emergency Intruder Protocol Allows Oversight By Non-Admin User In Circumstance."

It took a moment for Serena to translate from computer to English, and the confusion faded from her mind - replaced with a sudden leaden feeling of concern and panic in her digital stomach. "So, you're listening to me because you trust me and you can't ask Anabel what to do."

"That Is A Manner That My Data Informs Me Is A Way My Actions Could Be Interpreted By Those With Capacity For Emotion And Critical Thinking."

"But..." Serena put her thumb to her chin. "Didn't you say I was an intruder-" She didn't get to finish the thought. Anabel's Knight snapped into action and rose from the throne, extending an arm towards her, and Serena panicked and went from zero-to-sixty, jumping back and weaving a defensive program, anticipating an attack that... Didn't come from where she expected. Her eyes went wide as she saw an orange fireball rocket through the space she'd occupied been a moment ago, crashing right into Anabel's knight and throwing it back down onto the throne with a blast that momentarily lit the room, and it slumped back, smoke clearing to reveal tarnished armour and large chunks missing, and Serena quickly turned around, shifting from defence to attack in her mind, as she saw another user, standing in the doorway, mock blowing smoke off a finger gun.

"I think he was talking about me." Victor said, a merciless grin flashing on his face.

"You're!-" Serena pointed at the young man's avatar, shock and panic slowly giving way to simmering anger. "Victor! the one from the hotel!..."

"Wait, what?" The mood shifted with an audible clunk, Vic's cocky and confident expression suddenly turning a bit confused. "You were there?!"

"I wasn't 'in' the system, if that's what you were asking..." Serena replied, her own mood shifting as well, a sharp expression and a quick whispered command replaced her ward with a whirling cyclone in her right hand. "I had a look inside, though." She felt that was all that warranted explaining to the interloper - The Ecstasy Battalion's hacker, whose expression was in a few places: Confused, irritated, and somewhat cocky - though, Serena couldn't truly divine the look behind his thick, opaque black shades; the part of his ensemble that had jogged her memory to begin with.

The rest of his avatar was no less flashy. Vic wore a long black trench coat, worn open to reveal more blackness inside: black shirt, black trousers, black chest rigging - more for show than anything else, Serena mused - and black army jackboots. Now that she was face to face with him, however, she could see, more clearly, that his leathers were covered in odd, blue pictograms: stars and moons and pentacles and ones and zeroes, faintly pulsing in time with the blue highlights in his messy, black hair. It was night and day compared to Serena's more reserved representation, and she was finding it a bit funny, a wry smile coming to her face. Vic's avatar looked like he'd stepped off a silver screen flick about console cowboys - it was a look most hackers grew out of sometime after finishing high school.

"Oh, whatever." Vic shook his head and shot Serena a harsh look as he entered the chamber, kicking up dust as he went. "Listen, Old Maid-"

"Don't 'old maid' me, boy." Serena snapped back, feeling choler burn in her, trigger finger tensing up, the attack program in her hand begging to be unleashed. "Now what the hell are you and your merc friends doing here?!"

"Why do you think?" Vic sneered at her from behind his specs. "You've made some serious enemies with your antics, Serena."

"Oh, don't tell me." She groaned, and rolled her eyes. "Have you been working for Dr. Lazerian this whole damn time!?" Serena sounded bitterly angry and frustrated, but it quickly faded out into normal, simmering choler when Vic just looked confused and a bit agitated.

"Who the hell is that?!" He exclaimed, and Serena sighed. Relieved, but also irritated - because that would have made things a lot simpler.

"He's an old enemy of mine." Serena explained. If 'Old' could be applied to someone who'd became her mortal foe only last month.

"Well then, I'm a new one." Victor said, and, with a word of power, two more fireballs flared into his hands. "We're all your enemies now."

"What, the whole Ecstasy Battalion?" Serena replied, and Vic cracked a vicious smile, and a cold, murderous laugh escaped his mouth.

"I'm sure you've heard of us." He said. "Best damn merc group in the United Federation. Not an organization you want to have on your bad side."

"You've been trying to kill me all damn week!"

"That was business, Serena." He said. "Now it's person-"

She'd heard enough. Serena didn't wait for Victor to finish his sentence before she rushed forward and threw the attack program from her hand, the baseball-sized cyclone expanding and flaring up into a hurricane that barrelled right into Vic, and threw him off his feet and into the doorway before he'd had a moment to react. He didn't clear it cleanly; the back of his head hit the top of the doorframe with a hollow 'clunk' and it spun him around and threw him to the floor. In the real world, that injury would have killed him stone dead, but, this being a netbattle in The Matrix, Vic sprang right back up and jumped backwards to avoid the hail of bullets Serena sent his way from her left arm, moulded into a machine gun with a prominent drum magazine and wooden furniture.

"Oh, it's ON!" Victor yelled, speaking out a word of power and throwing a bolt of lightning through the doorway, where, Serena flinched as she held her right arm out infront of her, ward program deflecting the blow, while her left arm turned back to normal, sprinting through the doorway while Vic ran back up the stairs.

"What the hell DID I even do to you?" Serena violently shouted as she threw another fireball, Victor ducking below the railing to dodge it, and sprung back up, leather coattails trailing behind him.

"You had my buddy killed!" Victor spat back, full of vitriol and vengeance, and he punctuated the point with the conjuration of a dozen hand grenades, sailing over the railing into the bottom of the stairs, where Serena was standing, eyes wide. Moments later, a massive explosion shook the whole server, filling the stairwell with a dense cloud of gray smoke, and vicious, roaring laughter. "Serves you right, old bitch!" Vic yelled, a massive, cocky smile on his face as he ran to the railing, peering down, into the diffusing smoke, smile fading as a look of confusion crept onto his face-

"And just who are you calling an old bitch?..." Behind his opaque glasses, Vic's digital eyes went wide as he turned and looked up to see a cartoony-looking bat with blood red eyes, flapping its wings, hovering over him, and with a cloud of smoke, turned right back into the avatar of a woman with black hair and blood red eyes, a sour look on her face, and a spiked mace on a chain where her right forearm should have been.

"The fu-!" Victor yelled out, and, thankfully for him, his digital body was quicker than his mouth. He jumped back in the nick of time, Serena's macehead landing in the carpet where he'd been a moment ago and embedding itself in the floor, throwing up splinters of wood, as she pulled it out and pressed the attack.

"And who the hell did I have killed, anyways!" Serena yelled, as Victor jumped into the corridor, scant inches from a heavy, spiked ball hitting his digital skull. Serena ran out after him, swinging her mace towards her foe - only or the head to bounce right off the elegant, curved katana blade Victor had in place of his right forearm - a wild, angry expression on his face.

"You had Redmond killed, bitch!" Victor reversed her momentum and came in swinging with his curved blade, Serena ducking out of the way and leaving his blow to scar the frame of the entryway she'd just emerged from.

"Who the HELL!..." She shouted back, half confused and half angry as Victor pressed his attack, and, she spoke another word of power and the chain of her weapon shifted and melted, the code reassembling itself into a metal rod, Serena now wielding a morning star right in time to catch Victor's katana on its metal shaft. "Wait, the getaway driver?!" Serena exclaimed, finally remembering the face that went with the name.

"You had him killed and you didn't even know who he is?!"

"I'm sorry-" Serena sarcastically snapped, and sent a kick into her opponent's stomach for emphasis, knocking Vic to the floor. "That I can't remember every dickhead with a machine gun who tries to kill me!" She yelled, and bore down on him with her morning star, crushing Victor's shoulder blade with the spiked, metal end of her club as he scrambled back to his feet, tearing a chunk of code from his avatar and sending him careening back into the wall.

"Of course..." Victor gritted his teeth, as his arm changed back to normal, not expecting to have yielded first blood so soon. "You don't even bother to know who you're ordering your freaking puppet to kill for you, 'cause you're too much of a goddamn coward to do it yourself!"

"Wait..." Serena paused for just a moment, to raise an eyebrow. "You're saying I ordered someone to kill your teammate? I didn't even know Redmond was dead before you told me!"

Vic looked simultaneously confused and violently angry as he slowly got to his feet. "Haven't you and Edinburgh been in cahoots all this time?!"

"Edinburgh?!..." Serena sounded disgusted at the implication. "What, the private eye? No, you idiot!" She yelled. "What, HE killed Redmond?!"

"YES!" Victor pounced forward, swinging his katana violently overhead, and Serena blocked it with the staff of her morning star at the last second. "He shot him and stole our goddamn van and you're telling me you DIDN'T have any involvement?! In any of that?!"

"We're not affiliated! He's been stringing me along on a pack of lies this whole time!" Serena yelled back and struck back with the morning star, forcing Vic backwards to block or dodge her savage blows. "I didn't even know he was working for you!" She sounded angry, and very disappointed. So, the insurance company story was a lie, then. That was going to make for an interesting conversation if they ever spoke again... Her eyes focused, and she took another swing at Vic, almost managing to hit him upside the head. IF. She clenched her teeth. She'd have to get out of this alive, first.

"He's not - he was working for our boss." Victor harshly replied, with another slash from his sword, that she'd blocked. "We didn't hire him - and if we find him, we're gonna burn him alive! Nobody crosses us! That includes you, old bitch!-"

Vic's comment was interrupted by the sudden need to protect his life, a close-range fireball blazed from Serena's forearm, a furious expression on her face, as she yelled, "STOP CALLING ME "OLD!" I'M ONLY TWENTY FOUR!"

"Nngh!-" Victor groaned and focused all the mental power he could muster into his ward. Even then, the blast of energy as the fireball exploded sent him careening down the corridor. "Then you're gonna die at twenty-four!" He yelled out, pulling himself back onto two feet, as Serena ran to close the distance, holding her mace out behind her to strike. "Because of what you stole from me!"

"What I stole?!" Serena yelled back as she jumped out of the way of a freezing blast of ice Victor threw behind him as he ran, eager to put some distance between them."

"Oh, don't act like you don't know!" Victor flashed another smile and threw a lightning bolt Serena's way, that she was barely able to dodge. "We didn't come here for shits and giggles! You've got our secrets!" Serena's red eyes went wide, as she threw another fireball, and Vic cunningly ducked into a side room to dodge it, the memory flashed back in her mind. The whole reason they'd braved The Metrotown at all! The file Anabel downloaded!

Serena was still in the dark as to exactly what she'd found, however. Anabel had been tight-lipped as to what she actually stole in the first place, and, busy as she was, didn't have the time or willpower to probe her. Lisa, meanwhile, couldn't figure out how to get it without pissing Anabel or Serena off, and she'd had to tell her to cut it out. The contents of the file they'd stolen had fallen out of her train of thought, but now, Vic was putting it in an uncomfortable light. Whatever Anabel had found, it seemed that Vic and the rest of his mercenary friends were willing to kill over it.

A hail of automatic gunfire roared from Corto's heavy weapon a torrent of lead cutting through the steel plating of the security bot bearing down on the trio of mercenaries, splinters of metal and circuitry falling out onto the carpeted floors of Schwarzwalder Manor - the real one. A burst of bullets knocked out it's leg actuators, and the security bot toppled over, sword burying itself in the floor, scant inches away from Diane's boot, and a last burst from Pascal's Calico reducing the machine's helmet - and the controlling processors within - to scrap, and the machine finally went still.

"What..." Diane needed a moment to catch her breath and pull herself up off the floor, while Corto kicked the scrapped knight with his jackboot, for good measure. "The hell was that?!" She exclaimed.

"A fancy type of security bot, if I'd had to guess." Pascal took in a deep breath, as he loaded a fresh magazine into his weapon, fumbling the mag release a bit. "Clever. I thought it was a piece of decor at first."

"Whatever the hell it is, its dead now." Corto delivered another kick - this time just for the hell of it, clenching his teeth. The whole damn operation went pear-shaped the moment they breached. Everything had been fine for the first few moments. They'd rushed in, bounding through the corridors, pressing their offensive and expecting to run into Serena and her damn friends. They hadn't been expecting a 'decorative' suit of armour to come to life and try to cut their heads off. The bot had chased them into a side room - a parlour room or atelier or something. Whatever it was, they'd ruined it with bullet holes and fancy couches and tables strewn everywhere, and it didn't even matter - Corto gritted his teeth. This place was being burnt to the goddamn ground once they were done, anyways.

"Well, what's Vic doing, then?" Diane said, getting to her feet, loading her weapon and fixing her hair. "Shouldn't he have turned these things off?"

"He could be running into some trouble in the net." Pascal responded, adjusting his eyeglasses and the straps of his webbing. "All the more reason to reassess our strategic position and explore alternative options to solve-"

Corto turned over to him, and Pascal flinched back, eyes wide, tongue suddenly slack in his mouth. A look of barely contained rage crawled onto his boss' face, and his trigger finger twitched. Outside of the trigger guard, at least. "Are you saying we quit, Pascal?" Corto barked, dripping with fury.

"I..." Pascal found himself stunned, but a fiery, determined feeling flared up inside of him, tension giving way to resolution, and he glared right back up at his boss and yelled out, "Yes! This whole situation is FUBAR!"

"You lost your nerve?!"

"I haven't 'lost' anything." He fixed his glasses. "Corto, you're forgetting who we are! We're not coppers or soldiers or action movie heroes, we're mercenaries! We're business. We don't risk our ass without necessity!"

"It's not business anymore, Pascal!" Corto leaned in, and his glasses slipped off, just a bit, and Pascal flinched, going a bit pale. Both his boss' eyes were still flesh and blood, and glazed over. Pupils like pinpricks, and shaking wildly. "It's personal! It's our goddamn team!" He barked, and Pascal came to an uncomfortable realization. "We're mercs - that means we sent every puto who crosses us to hell! You want money?! Iron your shirt and go to business school, be like every other shitbag on the street. We look after our own here, and we get even - got it?!"

"We can get revenge whenever!" Pascal tried to argue - as if trying to dissuade himself of the uncomfortable notion. "All we're gonna do if we stick here is get killed! Diane, talk some sense into him!" He turned over to his blonde compatriot, who just went wide-eyed at him. "We might still be able to get at Edinburgh before the trail goes cold."

Diane opened her mouth to speak, but Corto turned over to glare at her, and she began to clam up. "Well, we're already in here." She said, and Pascal could hear a hint of reluctance. "I didn't want to stick around, but we've come this far, so we should focus on what we can do now..." He flashed a harsh, uneasy smile, and she clenched her weapon tightly, only making Pascal uncomfortable. "Like waste the stupid red-haired bitch, and Serena, too." It sounded like her heart wasn't into it. She sounded nervous, and like she was trying to whip herself into a frenzy to reassure herself.

Pascal wanted to call her out. He knew his friend - these weren't her true feelings, and he could tell. He opened his mouth to speak, but Corto turned his furious, killing stare onto him, and his bespectacled eyes glanced to the machine gun in his hands, and he fell silent, a pit sinking in his stomach. He'd never seen his boss like this before - but, he supposed, they'd never had anyone die before. He wanted to press the issue, but, eyes transfixed on the weapon, Pascal found himself in a frying pan, about to leap down into the fire. Corto was determined to get revenge, and he got the very grim impression if he pressed the issue further, Corto wouldn't blink at gunning him down as a 'traitor.'

"Well..." Pascal adjusted his spectacles. "I suppose I've been outvoted, then." He made a last, desperate look over at Diane, but despite the tense, uneasy look in her eyes, she said nothing. Though, Pascal's countenance was blank and collected, he was cursing up a storm in his head. "We'll press the attack." He said, and cursed himself for doing so. Corto was mad. He'd seen it in his eyes. He'd recognized the look, in hundreds of others. Corto had gone completely combat-mad, and now, in the middle of a firefight, out for revenge, was the worst time to find that out. Phil tried to think of a way out of this rat trap he'd crawled into, but between the coldness of this place and the harsh glare of his boss, his finely honed mind blanked out.

As soon as this was over, Pascal vowed, he was done. He was collecting his cut and taking the next flight to Barbados or Monaco or Tierra Del Fuego and leaving Corto's madness and Diane's cowardice and Vic's irritating-ass know-it-all-ism behind. Only Redmond, he wistfully realized, he couldn't find fault in. Of all his colleagues. Maybe, Pascal mused, a bitter look in his eyes, it was only right the team dissolved with his death. They sure as hell weren't pulling off any more great escapes without him. As soon as they were done, he was out of here.

IF he survived. Pascal gritted his teeth, and pulled himself back to Earth. He was leaving - but he had to survive Corto's madness first.

The gunfire stopped. It'd been somewhere past the dining room, maybe in one of the side rooms, ringing in Lisa's ears like funeral bells, and now it stopped. She exhaled deeply, condensation hanging in the air, and shivered - not just from the cold... Mostly from the cold. A quick look over her shoulder identified the source: In the kitchen behind them, the windows had been left opened, leaving a massive gap for the winter's air to seep in, a small dusting of snow accumulating on the sill. Mostly the cold, but-

"Are you nervous?" Gabriel asked, inspecting his new weapon, as Lisa's hazel-green eyes flashed wide, and an embarrassed look crossed her face.

"I'm still bad at hiding it, aren't I?" She stared into the dining room through her weapon's optic sight, with an uneasy smile. "You're not?"

"Oh, I'm nervous too, don't worry..." Gabriel smiled, and adjusted his glasses. The two of them were crouched down in another makeshift fortification, constructed in the doorway between the dining hall and the kitchen, made out of the disused desks and chairs from the server room they'd needed to move to fit the bunny tent in, and they'd quickly thrown it together once Serena had sent them off. Lisa's idea, since, it had worked once before... She took a deep breath. Gabriel had pegged this area as the attacker's likely route of ingress, being the most direct way to them, and, from where the gunfire was coming from, maybe he was onto something.

Lisa's briefly looked away from the sights. "How does she do it?"

"Hm?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

"Serena." Lisa took a hand off the weapon's foregrip, twirling a lock of red hair. "She's always... Collected. She always has a grip on things. The hotel, the mercs' hideout, even Dr. Lazerian's lab... It's like..." She paused, letting the words hang in the frigid air. "Nothing shakes her, Gabriel."

"Well, what about it?"

"Well..." She laughed a bit. "Don't tell her - I think I'm a bit jealous."

"I don't think you need to be." Gabriel responded, and Lisa raised an eyebrow. "You're forgetting a pretty big detail."

"What is it?"

Gabriel turned over to her and cracked a smile. "She's with the Specials. This is her job, you know. Plus, I'm sure you've seen it - she acts all restrained, but I can tell she likes the rush of danger.

Lisa found herself momentarily tense, but then just laughed. "True..."

"And you don't know what's going on inside her head." A quizzical, teasing look came into his eyes. "As much as you've been trying to find out-"

"H-Hey!-" Lisa's expression snapped, turning embarrassed - almost mortified, but Gabriel laughed it off and dismissed it, waving his hand.

"My point is." He continued, turning a bit more serious, eyes focused on the deadly stillness of the dining hall ahead. "It's not 'not being nervous.' Serena IS nervous. She doesn't hide it, but she doesn't need to. It's about being able to operate under pressure despite it. She's just had more practice than you." Of course, he did have his own theories about it, relating to her near-death experience, but he kept it to himself. It was still 'need to know,' and besides - he smiled wistfully to himself. What fun would it be for the little spy if he divulged all this information about her so readily?

"How do you do that?"

"I think it might be a bit different for everyone..." Gabriel scratched at his sideburns, "But what works for me is focusing. Concentrate on what's infront of you, don't think of what can go wrong. Focus on what you want."

"Not dying."

"Like that." Gabriel cracked a playful grin. "And holding off these mercs until Serena can get back into the fight."

"She is taking a while..."

"She could be handling another digital problem that's come up." Gabriel let out another laugh. "Have some faith in your friend, Lisa."

A broad, slightly bashful smile crossed her face, and she pushed a lock of red hair out of her face and dryly said, "You're always cheerful, Gabriel."

He took a deep breath, and a wistful look came into his eyes. "I try."

"Were you always like this?"

"You're a very nosy girl, Lisa."

"It's just part of my job." She sounded a bit embarrassed - only a bit.

"Mixing business and pleasure, then?"

A harsh look, and a smile came onto Lisa's face, and she looked away, and another burst of gunfire erupted from beyond the dining room, and the smile came right off her face, replaced by a tense, resolute expression.

"I just hope Serena's all right."

"She's a tough girl." Gabriel cracked another smile. "She can handle herself."

A fireball barrelled down the virtual antechamber, spitting embers and coruscating light as it went, blasting apart an equestrian statue - and missing its intended target - who'd dodged right out of the way.

"Missed me again, you old bat!" Vic taunted in mid-air, as Serena was preparing another fireball from behind a stone obelisk, and emerged to throw it, but was forced back into cover when Vic threw another lightning bolt her way. In the clear, he landed away from her, in the maze, laughing riotously, as an irritated smile crossed Serena's face. Partly because she missed - mostly because she was sick of taking attitude from teenagers.

"Aww, am I going too easy on you?" Serena yelled back, sarcastic and faux-cocky, but mostly annoyed. Vic had led her on a wild goose chase down the twisting manors of Virtual Strauss Manor, into what seemed to be a digitized statue garden. (and Serena didn't quite know if this was accurate to the real thing, or an 'artistic addition.') It'd have been quite tranquil on a normal day, with verdant green pathways dotted with a colourful splash of flowers, decorated with Greek-styled statues of gods and heroes paired with Egyptian obelisks, all in a massive atrium with a second floor balcony overhead, looking down, and capped with a massive, domed glass ceiling, against which virtual rain batted remorselessly overhead.

"I've seen worse from my kid sister!" Vic taunted back, from out in the garden, concealed behind one of the statues, as Serena set off, darting between hedges and granite, fireballs at the ready, teeth clenched - before she paused, and took a breath. No... She tried to calm herself down, and slowed a bit, trying to pace herself. This was what he'd wanted. He was trying to make her lose her temper and run smack-dab into a lightning bolt, which, to Serena's chagrin, he seemed to have been accomplishing...

She shook her head. In a netbattle, it often came down to who had the smartest head on their shoulders, not whoever was more vicious, and... Serena shook her hand, and dismissed the flames with a shake of her hand, and spoke a word of power, replacing it with a shimmering ball of red light. She'd need to use her wits, here, not lose her temper. She needed to find him, and make sure he couldn't get the drop on her.... A wry smile came onto her face. Sometimes, being clever just meant being better prepared.

Serena threw the red ball of light up over the statues, and, with a word of power, it transformed into an ethereal, giant red bat, red eyes flashing with a thirst for blood, and it dive bombed into the garden, and Serena quickly followed it, trampling over roses and rounding past a statue of Paris or whoever it was, a crack of lightning and burst of loud profanity telling Serena she'd found her prey. She rounded a corner just in time to catch Vic, covered in scratches, wearing an irritated look, cleave her digital attack bat with a swing of his katana-arm, bisecting it with an audible 'Squeak!' as both halves began to disintegrate into ones and zeroes, and he turned his head towards her just in time to see Serena throw both fireballs towards him.

Vic's eyes went wide and he quickly snapped into action, speaking aloud words of power and gesturing two wards into behind. One of them deflected Serena's burning missile with a flash of blue light, causing it to explode harmlessly against the sandaled heels of Achilles nearby. The other... Didn't - Vic hadn't the time to change his hand back from a sword, and the fireball exploded in a cascade of light and heat, and Victor screamed wildly in pain as he was thrown back, landing in a nearby hedge.

"I think this has gone on long enough." Serena said, slowly approaching as Victor clutched at his mangled arm, the blade having been blown off and were leaking code into the program. His sunglasses had been blown off in the attack as well, and Serena could see him shooting her a pained, nervous, and bitterly hateful look. "Are we done, here?"

"Done what?" Vic snarled back, full of bitterness and disdain. "Do you think you've won, you decrepit old bitch?"

"I'll ignore that and be as nice as I'm ever going to be." Serena crossed her arms. "Disconnect now and I'll leave you alone, script kiddie." Vic clenched his teeth. "Hacker's honour."

Vic cracked a nasty smile, and ran his one good hand through his hair, the blue stream shimmering as it went. "Now, why the hell should I?"

Serena shot him an irate, heavy-lidded look. "Because even though you've tried to kill me, I'm going to be the bigger person here, and give you the only chance you'll ever get to leave this place with your brain intact and reevaluate your life." She spoke another fireball into her hand to prove a point, its blazing orange glow reflecting off polished marble and Victor's blue digital eyes.

"Well, point one." Vic replied, wincing as his mangled sword-arm shifted into a mangled regular arm, more code falling off it. "You killed my buddy!"

"a). I'm not the one who killed him. Edinburgh did, and I had nothing to do with it." Serena's expression and tone turned very irritated. "b) I'm sure he wouldn't want you throwing your life away on revenge like this."

Vic rolled his eyes. "Point two." He continued. "You stole some very sensitive data from me. I'd willing to consider your offer if you gave it back."

"I'll admit, I don't know what it is-" Serena tried to say.

"What, you haven't read it?" Vic suddenly looked shocked, and bounced up off the hedge he'd landed in.

"No."

"Seriously?"

Serena shot him a glare. "Is that so unbelievable?"

Vic gradually went from shocked to erupting into a fit of laughter like a rowdy schoolboy. "And you call yourself a hacker!"

"Whatever!" Serena groaned. "I didn't read it - but Anabel did-" and Vic's expression went right back to dire and serious. "And after all the trouble we went through to get it, I think I'd rather she keep it." A wicked, teasing smile came onto her face. "Especially since you're clearly not good enough to take it from me. Kid."

"Well-" Far from the reaction Serena was predicting she'd get out of him, Vic laughed, flashed a nasty smile at her, and said, "-Point three, do you really think you can actually beat me?!-"

Serena opened her mouth to speak - but her red eyes noticed the gesture Vic had done with his one good hand, and her expression shifted into one of finely drilled panic and she threw herself back into action and hurled the fireball towards him, at point blank range. If she'd been a second quicker, or a bit meaner, that might've been the end of him, but as the smoke cleared, Serena had a moment to see, with a shocked, dumbfounded look in her eyes, a large wooden dummy laying on the ground where Vic had been a second ago, wearing a stupid expression painted on its face like the text message emoticon, ' :P ' and a message on its chest that read, 'GOTCHA!'

She didn't have very long to appreciate the joke, as, a split-second later a bolt of lightning crashed down from the balcony overhead, blasting her square in the digital chest and knocking her down onto the grass, a scream of pain erupting from her as bits of her code were violently burned off. Mocking, raucous laughter rang in her ears, and from where she'd landed, she could see Victor make an obscene gesture with his hand before darting out of sight, cackling madly, as Serena pulled herself back to her feet and yelled out, "OH, YOU'RE DEAD, YOU LITTLE TWERP!"

Throwing herself back into the pursuit, Serena spoke another word of power and jumped up, over the cover of the hedge maze and onto the balcony - and her eyes went wide, as she saw, down the hallway, she could see Victor waiting for her, a vicious grin on his face, and the muzzle of a digitized firearm flagging her. Quick thinking kept Serena from being blown to pieces - she stuck her hand out and shouted out a command, and, from nowhere in particular, a giant, vicious wolf with fur black as midnight, and eyes like shimmering, blood-soaked rubies leapt out... and ate about a half-dozen shotgun shells from Victor's digital firearm.

A human controlled program would probably have decided discretion was the better part of valour, and turned tail. However, even with chunks blown off it the digital wolf was (ironically) very dogged, and snarled and howled as Victor, momentarily surprised, ducked into a side room and slammed the door - a second too late, with the wolf taking advantage of some slapdash collision coding to slip right through a crack and, on the other side, viciously maul the juvenile hacker amid a flurry of profanity and digital gunfire, while Serena closed the distance, readying her own virtual weapon; her right arm turned into a wild-looking mechanical repeating crossbow. A final burst of gunfire, and a yelp from the other side, and Serena kicked the virtual door in off it's hinges and blasted the wall with a hail of bolts. A tense, irritated look came in Serena's eyes as she realized Vic seemed to have vacated the room completely.

Serena swore, and ran back down the hall, as her virtual crossbow reloaded itself, pulling back its own string and feeding more bolts into its mechanism. This wasn't an unusual play from Vic; even without a specialized program to do so, any competent hacker could whip up a janky, dirty bit of coding and slip right through the walls. Normally a bad idea, since, unless you knew where you were going, you could wander the void for hours before being spat right back out - with a horde of Black ICE waiting for you. In a place like this, though, modelled after a real home, it was smarter. Serena had done it. So had Anabel, in hot pursuit of her...

Serena just erupted into laughter, recalling how nightmarish that night had been - and how oddly weak this felt by comparison. With the ghost, it felt like trying to hold off a hurricane. It was a struggle to even survive - and winning was right off the table. Victor, though?... Serena's laughter echoed down the digital halls as she raced down the purple-tinged corridor. The kid wasn't bad - he was pretty good, but compared to Anabel, it was like play-fighting a puppy... Though, she still needed to find him. Vic was probably regaining his strength and finding an angle of attack in the walls, and it'd be a simple manner to track him down with a scanning program... Serena exhaled deeply, feeling a lot less cocky that she'd forgotten one.

Nevertheless, finding him wouldn't be that hard. Vic had ducked into the rooms on the right-hand side of the hallway. The corridor ahead split off into a T-junction. If Serena was in his place, she'd double back into the atrium and flee deeper, setting traps as she went... She laughed a bit, stopping at the T-junction and turning into the right hall, crossbow pointed at a promising section of wall. Yes, that would be smart - but she wasn't the one doing the hunting, here... He'd have to come to her...

Victor sprinted from the wall his long coat with blue runes billowing behind him, a relieved expression on his face making way for alarm as Serena flashed an ironic smile and yelled out, "GOTCHA!" before firing her digital weapon. To his credit, again, he'd have bought the virtual farm if he'd been a moment slower, but even if he wasn't on Anabel's level, Vic had still managed to block Serena's hail of crossbow bolts with a hastily thrown up ward, as he leapt forwards, clenching his teeth, a look of fury in his eyes, and, to her surprise, the shotgun melted and shifted in his hands and he bore down on her with an (almost) fully restored katana-arm.

Serena quickly dashed out of the way and shifted her own weapon to the new circumstance; crossbow rippling and flowing like shining mercury as she spoke the command to reform it, forgoing the mace she'd used downstairs and taking a play from Anabel's book, opting to fight blade with blade, and attacking Vic with a long, double-edged broadsword, Victor's eyes going wide as he found himself suddenly giving ground, and going on the backfoot, each slash from Serena's blade forcing him back to dodge or block her - eyes wincing with pain each time he did.

He was slowing down, his arm hadn't quite been repaired fully, and, despite the credit Serena had given him for fighting through her ambush, he was still slowing down, and they both knew it, and Serena matched Victor's expression of fear with her own indignant, cocky smile. "You made a stupid mistake in not leaving when I gave you the chance!" She yelled, and made her point with a swing that Vic was barely able to dodge, clipping a small piece from his digital ear, and making him wince. "You thought you could hunt me down like a dog!" After being chased down by Anabel, twice by the Ecstasy Battalion, and finally turning the tables on Vic, it was an odd, almost satisfying feeling.

"Yeah, well-" Victor tried to reverse the situation, cringing in pain as he parried a blow. Serena suspected he'd ran a repair program, but didn't have the time to see it through completely. "I don't just-!" He punctuated the point with a brutal, overhead swing from his sword-arm, that Serena blocked in the nick of time. "Give up when things get tough! My buddy's dead, and you've got something of mine!" He flashed her a cocky, wry smile, the fear in his eyes fading momentarily. "Deal's still on. I'll leave you alone, if you're willing to play nice."

"Amateur!" Serena mocked him right back and took another swing, not quite hitting home, but Vic had avoided her stroke with only a millimetre to spare, and she wondered how long her cocky foe could keep this up.

"I've been coding since I was in diapers, old hag!" Victor flashed another grim and took another swing, but Serena blocked that one as well with a loud clanging of metal-on-metal.

He flashed a grin, and took another swing - this time, Serena dodged it.

I know your type." Serena pressed her attack and forced Victor back down the hall with each blow, shearing off bits of code where some of her attacks struck true, as Victor flinched in pain, and his brazen veneer began to crumble - revealing a scared looking kid underneath. "Cocky script kiddies who can put a cyberdeck together and find their way onto Strangeworld, and think they're the coolest thing since leather jackets!"

"What, am I that unassuming!-" Vic tried to shout, but recoiled in pain as Serena's blade carved a chunk out of his shoulder. "I'm not a goddamn amateur! I'm a mercenary hacker badass!" He boasted, and struck back with his sword, expression tense and brash with a sarcastic smile as he bore down on her. "I've hacked into worse places than you've even heard of, girlie!"

"Ran into any Black ICE?" Serena blocked his blade with a shower of sparks and clanging of metal, flashing a wry smile. "Any super-powerful ghost AI?"

A cocky laugh escaped Victor's lips as he took another swing. "I've fought off things that would have fried you in just a second, Serena! I'm-"

"A bad liar, then." Serena cut him off, with another harsh blow that he barely blocked in the nick of time, putting a shocked, embarrassed, pained look in Vic's eye. "Because if you had, you would have taken my offer. Do you know what separates a good hacker from a bad one? Or a dead one?"

"What, then!?" Serena bore down on him again, and Victor winced, and he looked behind him, and his eyes went wide as he saw how close they were to the corner at the end of the hall.

"What all the graybeards kept telling you." Serena said, another flurry of wild slashes from her blade. Her tone turned much more serious, the picture of Anabel - and her own sword - creeping into her mind. "Be careful. Always have an exit strategy. You probably blew them off, but tell me - do you ever think WHY all the veteran hackers told you to be careful and not get in over your head?!"

"And why would that be?" Vic snapped, as he jumped back, his tone mostly angry and sarcastic - but Serena could feel a hint of fear as well."

"Because we all learn it the hard way!" Serena yelled out, as she took a wide swing with her sword, Victor barely ducking out of the way of a blow that would have torn his head from his virtual shoulders. "Because they've seen it happen!" Her tone amplified in pitch, turning viciously angry, and almost hysterical, motes of guilt on her words. "Do you know a girl named Samantha Palmer, Vic?!" She screamed, a maddened look in her eyes, picturing the girl laying still in the hospital bed, and beginning to see red.

"Should I?!"

"She's the goddamn lesson!" Serena roared. "She had her brain burnt out by Black ICE or a hacker like you or... Whatever! She isn't dead, but she might as well be, and her only crime was liking computers and being too overconfident! She didn't do anything to deserve that, but you!- What's your excuse, Victor!?"

"I keep telling you, it's personal!" Vic roared, and lashed out with his blade, nicking Serena's left arm, and flashing a cocky smile. "It started as just being business, Serena, but your friend Edinburgh-"

"He's NOT my friend!"

"-killed my buddy," He kept on going, ignoring her. "and you stole my important data! This ain't gonna be over until it's over, bitch!"

"Then don't go crying to your mom when I'm done with you - assuming you can." Serena's tone went ice-cold. "I tried being nice, but if it's a fight..."

"It's not a fight I want, Serena." Vic flashed an evil grin. "I want revenge." He said, and her expression turned uncomfortable, remembering Anabel's own words. "Revenge for Redmond, and humiliating me on my own server! What kind of hacker would I be if I let you get away with it!"

"Then come and get it!" Serena made a wide slash, and Vic threw his sword up to parry, but his eyes went wide as Serena flashed a grim smile and added, "If you can, Script Kiddie!" and, catching him with the feint, drew the sword away and lunged forward and kicked him right in the stomach, launching him into the wall. "I've made up my mind - I hate mercs like you!" She growled, bringing her sword overhead. "You're all face! You run around acting all cocky and trying to kill me and my friends!"

She brought her blade down as Victor scrambled to his feet, but this time, he hadn't been quick enough and, with a howl of pain, she'd neatly torn his sword-arm from his shoulder, sending it clattering to the carpet, as Victor clenched his teeth and clutched at the stump, and watched it, wide-eyed, as it disintegrated into ones and zeroes. "And then you get a dirty hit in when I'm showing you mercy, and now that you're losing, you're all scared, like a little boy! I tried to be nice, but since you're gonna be so persistent, I've made my decision. You want to end this, Vic?" A vicious, monstrous look flashed in her eyes, and Victor recoiled back. "Let's end it!"

That was the signal he needed. Vic, down one arm, turned tail and began to run, as fast as his legs would carry him, dodging a fireball Serena had thrown once her brain caught up with her choler. The merc was leading her down the hall, into a familiar place - this corridor led back into the virtual manor's entrance hall, where she'd been fleeing from Anabel at the start of all this insanity. Victor swore loudly, and, from a few meters ahead, conjured up a cloud of acrid, grayish-black smoke, spilling from his one good hand and flooding the hallway, blocking Serena's vision - but not her passage. Still hopped up on white-hot anger, she darted towards the cloud, and the foyer on the other side, and began to chant out a long and involved command, a writhing mass of energy beginning to take form in her hand-

The fog stirred, as Serena was almost within it, and, to her shock, a figure burst forward, emerging from the smoke. A blue-eyed digital construct, in the shape of a masked figure in black, scaled armour, with a flared out, horned helmet, bore down on her with a massive, two-handed dai-katana, and Serena swore, and barely managed to jump out of the way of its mechanical overhead swing. She felt the pulse of energy throb in her hand, but pulled it back, a cooler head prevailing. No. Not only was it unfinished - she needed to save it. Wasting her most powerful attack on some conjured up distraction was exactly what Vic wanted. Serena's eyes turned more focused. It was in her way, though, and she'd need to overcome it, quickly.

Serena shifted her sword-arm, turning it back into a normal hand, as she jumped out of the way of the mechanical samurai's pitch-black sword. It wasn't even ICE - conjured-up programs are way less sophisticated, and easier to get rid of. A strong attack program or a few blows with a good cyber-weapon would do the trick, but Serena didn't have the time, and, to her chagrin, she was starting to run low on digital munitions. Every second here was time not spent blasting that damn merc in the next room... She raised an eyebrow, ducking under another wild swing. Did she even need to destroy it, though?... A sharp look, and a sharp smile crawled onto her face.

Running into the cloud of smoke, the shadowy samurai in hot pursuit, Serena turned and commanded into being, a floor of creeper vines, erupting from the carpet, bursting from the walls and doors and creeping out of cracks in the baseboard, grappling and immobilizing the errant program where it stood. It tried hacking itself free, tearing into the vines with its curved, two-handed sword, but Anabel, this program wasn't - and with every vine it cut down, two more sprouted in it's place, and Serena left it behind, as the vines gradually began squeezing the digital life out of it. Serena just focused her attention to the task ahead of her, as she darted into the fog.

The situation had finally changed. It's been teetering for a bit. It started with Vic confronting her, and turned into chasing him through the digitized manor - and now, it was a full-on hunt. It still felt odd, Serena mused. She was where Anabel had been, not that long ago, hunting her down, but... She found a determined smile coming onto her face. The situation was different. It wasn't revenge - she was fighting to help Anabel, and all of her friends, and save everyone from the wrath of these damn mercenaries!... She let out a burst of dry laughter. Serena found she quite liked the sound of that. Victor wanted a hunt - oh, she'd give him one!

Serena finally burst out into the foyer, the gears in her mind turning, hard at work, as she jumped out in the space a stairwell should have been, and landed on the carpet below. She needed to find out where Vic would be hiding, without a search program, and just her wits. The other exit was still bricked up from her fight with Anabel, Vic had to be in the hall ahead, and she raced into it, chanting out the remainder of the command, the writhing mass of energy beginning to coalesce, taking the form of a small meteorite, pulsing and writhing with power.

The hallway Vic had escaped into was still so familiar, like she'd only been here yesterday. (As opposed to about a week ago) racing down the familiar path - as the hunter, rather than the hunted - her red eyes scanned the walls - and quickly found it. Not quite where she'd been expecting. Sixth door on the right, slightly ajar, like he'd ran through it in such a hurry he hadn't closed it properly. Stiffening herself, taking a deep breath, preparing a ward in her off hand, Serena stormed in, throwing the door right off its hinges with a quick and dirty hack-assisted kick, firing up the ward and launching the swarm of comets from her arm towards the figure in the corner, a look of terror in his eyes contrasting the nonplussed one in hers'.

Serena didn't have too long to see what had happened before a series of explosions shook the room, and a radiant, white-and-blue supernova of light and heat obscured her eyes, but Vic hadn't launched an ambush. He'd had an old telephone handset up to his ears, and had just finished saying, "Log off!" right as she kicked the door in. Vic's avatar was in the middle of decoupling when her attack hit, and everything was cloaked in a blast of overpowering light. A howled, garbled scream of pain rang with the din of her attack blasted right into his avatar, and, as the light and smoke cleared, Serena saw, in the ruined drawing room... Nothing.

She needed a minute to process what she'd just seen. First of all... She wasn't sure if she destroyed Vic's avatar or not... That is to say, if he was dead. The avatar is a program, but also the imprint of the mind onto the computer. Destroying it meant destroying the person - but she wasn't sure if she had. Normal net-sparring doesn't result in anything more than a bruised ego. The built-in restraints mean you get 'killed' when you run out of 'hit points' and get thrown out of the arena. Alot like those video games Gabriel's so fond of. The real thing, where death is on the line, is different. She'd seen footage - a sort of bloodsport snuff tape that'd circulated on Strangeworld before being deleted by the moderators.

Simply put: Destroying someone's avatar isn't a pretty process, what with needing to burn off and tear it apart into it's constituent programming, and the whole thing starts seizing up and literally falls apart into ones and zeroes, as, while it happens, the psyche of the user controlling it dies painfully. That... Serena took a deep breath, and found herself scratching the back of her head. Wasn't what happened. Victor wasn't there, for a start. He was already logging off... An uncomfortable look came over her. The same thing happened to her - only, she'd logged out before Anabel's sword had struck true, whereas she'd managed to nail Victor with her blast of comets as he was logging off. Had she done it? It was hard to tell - Serena couldn't see any of the tell-tale signs. It just looked like he'd logged off.

Serena took a deep breath. That could wait. As far as she was concerned, she'd won!... The security system was online, and she'd chased Vic out, and now all she needed to do was... Serena spoke the command, and a phone handset appeared in her hand. Log out and help her friends in the real world... She took a deep breath, an uneasy feeling creeping up to her, as she held the phone to her ears. It was easy to... Forget she still had a body in the real world - that had needs to attend to. She'd already been feeling a bit faint when she jacked in, and Serena had a bad feeling that the gory, grim deficiency of life in her veins would be pounding at her spirit when she went back to reality.

She sighed, and shook her head. Well, it was her fault, she mused. All she could do now was speak the command, "Log off!" And hope it wouldn't be so bad. That she could hold on a bit longer without blood. First chance she got, secrecy be damned, she promised herself, she was going to feed...

Victor woke to a blazing light burning out his eyes. A cold, cloying, wet sensation on his face and neck, sticky and nauseating, and a horrifying scream of pain and terror ringing in his ears. It took a moment to realize it was his, and kept going for a bit - mostly because his brain felt like it'd been set on fire and thrown in a wood chipper, but also because it was the best way to express what he felt. A vicious mix of blind terror and confusion. Terror at what had happened. Confusion at the fact that he was alive. Terror at the fact that he was having a seizure and that a profuse stream of blood was leaking from his nose, making a sticky, wet, growing puddle of redness on his jumper and webbing, and Victor got the distinct feeling that, after what Serena had hit him with, his brain was leaking out of his nose.

Soon, Victor's limbs stopped thrashing, his throat went hoarse, and he stemmed his nosebleed by pulling his jumper up over his nose, the black polycotton soaking up an alarmingly thick, wet torrent of blood, putting an odd, grisly pressure in his nasal cavities, and an uncomfortably warm sensation on his face, even while the rest of him was hellishly cold; the manor's double doors were still wide open, letting in the artificially freezing air of this rich toff's fake winter night. Breathing in deeply through his mouth, he tried to take stock of what had happened. He was alive - but how?... Last thing he remembered, he was halfway through logging off when Serena burst in and hit him with a crazy-powerful attack. His vision went dark, and it sounded - and felt - like a whole battery of artillery shells had blown up right in his face... The sort of thing that definitely kills you, but... He took a deep breath, and raised an eyebrow. Here he was.

The pain was beginning to subside a bit, going from, 'brain stuck inside a lawn mower' to 'killer migraine,' and Vic tried to stand - and immediately regretted it, screaming out and seizing as though he were under telepathic attack, and fell right back to the floor, closing his eyes, clutching his head, feeling the trodes under his hands, and a clanging noise ringing in his ears... Bad idea... He slowly opened his eyes, vision a bit blurry, and slowly pulled the trodes off his head, and breathed in deeply, blood running from his nose and onto the carpet. That'd been a very bad idea. He had no idea how he was going to stand, but at least... He took another deep breath. He was alive!... Unless hell had decided to hire the same stupid architect who'd built this ridiculous place.

He'd survived, but Vic idly wondered if it might've been better he hadn't. It hurt like hell. His brain was definitely badly damaged. It felt like it'd been cracked and scrambled over low heat, his nose kept bleeding, and the 'clang, clang, clang' sound in his ears kept getting louder, but he was alive... An odd smile, and a bitter, choleric look came onto his face as Serena's voice rang in his ears, remembering that she'd been ranting about 'the lesson' every 'good' hacker learned, and he erupted into a fit of furious laughter. Oh, God Dammit! He mused. That bitch had been right!

He nearly bit down on his blood-soaked sweater in a blind fury, but... No... He took another deep breath of the bitterly cold night's air. That wasn't getting him anywhere. Despite the cold, his blood - the few pints still in his body, at least - was boiling. He couldn't couch the blow or otherwise rationalize it - he'd been beaten twice now! By a corporate bootlick, and a GIRL ontop of it! Vic pounded the floor with his free hand, and clenched his teeth. This couldn't stand!... Admittedly, neither could he.

"I'm gonna kill that bitch!..." Vic proclaimed, as he tried to sit himself up, going as slow as possible, clutching his head with his free hand, trying to not have the headaches flare up to lethal levels again. "Next time I see her..." He mumbled to himself, a manic look in his eyes and a wide, maddened grin. "We'll see how smug she is when I get my hands on her..."

That was the problem, he realized... How? Victor groaned and - slowly - shook his head. He wasn't in good physical condition. In fact, a doctor would tell him he was lucky to be alive! Even if he didn't have probable brain damage and a definite migraine or massive nosebleed, Serena had still managed to fight off his entire team - in their own hideout, no less! Even if he could take her on... Vic looked around the foyer, his eyes slowly adjusting to the soft, golden light that poured from the chandelier overhead, the clanging in his ears getting louder and louder... The big question was, where was she? Definitely here, but the manor was huge, and in his condition, Vic had the impression he'd find it difficult to track a snail, leaving him a trail of breadcrumbs. He tried to think, but between the distant sound of gunfire and the loud clanging in his head-

His eyes went wide... That wasn't from inside his head. On instinct, Vic turned over his shoulder, into the hallway left from the stairs, and finding what, between the gloom, darkness, blood loss, and brain damage, he'd at first taken for a hallucination, and all the colour drained from his face as he realized it wasn't. A large, polished steel statue of a knight really was bearing down on him, sword held high, and Vic realized that thoughtlessly blasting that security program was, in hindsight, a very terrible idea...

As the knight stepped into the foyer, Victor's animalistic flight reflex kicked in and, revenge and allies and pain and blood loss be damned, scrambled for the door, on all fours, like a wild beast, darting out the door and onto the porch in the nick of time, the knight's blade slashing down where he'd been a moment earlier and tearing into his cyberdeck, cleaving the expensive and lovingly custom-built computer neatly in half. Vic would have felt that slight right in his heart and ego if he'd been looking, but he had one thing out on his damaged mind, and it was getting the hell out of here, with whatever was left of him in... However many pieces it was in.

Scrambling and falling down, off the stoop, into the snow, Vic didn't bother looking back. Adrenaline and terror flowing through his veins, overruling the pain, finally up on two feet and running through the snow. He clutched his head with one hand, held his jumper over his still-bleeding nose with the other, his machine gun swinging from its sling as Vic fled into the night, leaving a trail of footprints and blood in the snow behind him.

The muzzle of Pascal's revolver roared out over chaos, a massive bullet halting the remorseless clanging, and stilling the razor-sharp sword of yet another security drone, now laying in a heap of shell casings, metal hand still, in deactivation, grasping the sword tightly, and Pascal took a deep breath, while Corto and Diane were still busily reloading their weapons. "That makes four, I suppose." He said, adjusting his glasses, trying - and largely failing - to break the tension from how badly things were going.

"Just how many of these damn things are there?!" Diane's tone was both frustrated and scared - with good reason, Pascal mused. The damn bots were eerie, hard to kill, and he'd seen one of their swords go right through a wooden beam, when Diane ducked to avoid her head being neatly separated from her shoulders. Combat armour may as well have been tissue paper against the damn things.

"Too many." Pascal stowed his sidearm and stuck a fresh cylindrical magazine onto the top of his sleek Calico, sliding the bolt forward with a satisfying click, chambering another 10mm round - which, against the knights, felt like peppering them with BBs. He'd emptied five of his hundred-round mags already, and they hadn't even engaged their primary target. "What the hell's Vic been up to? He can't be talking this long."

"Might be dead." Diane replied, flatly. Pascal's eyes went wide.

"Well, what do you mean?"

"I'm saying, if he's taking this long, then something's probably gone wrong." Diane took a deep breath, her tone very troubled. "I know I give him shit - but he's usually pretty reliable. He never usually takes this long..." Corto, meanwhile, had gone cold and taciturn. He wore a bitter, frustrated expression, but said nothing - and kept the madness behind his shades.

"Well..." Pascal turned to the door, opened into the hall, the wooden divider riddled with bullets - not theirs. "What now?" His tone was turning bitter, and his expression, as he turned towards Corto, was almost argumentative. They were trapped here, to put it simply. In one of the many side rooms this overbuilt mansion had that seemed to have some vain, silly purpose. This one was probably a gallery of sorts, but all the paintings and objects d'art were gone when they arrived, leaving empty plinths and spaces on the wall, with only two statues of knights, with their gleaming, sharp swords. They'd survived the encounter - about just - and, in doing so, had managed to reduce the furnishings and their enemies into heaps of detritus, scrap metal and wood littering the floor. The results of a rough tumble and several sword swings dodged in the nick of time.

None of that fixed why they were trapped in here - or why they'd ran in here in the first place. Directly outside this miniature art gallery was the corridor leading into the massive dining hall, and it's impressive looking banqueting table, and a view of the lovely, snow-covered countryside. Pascal got the impression it hadn't ever seated more than a dozen people at once, and from all the silverware and crockery on pieces on its surface, had probably been recently trodden on.

They hadn't been able to get a good look, though, since, on the other end, there had been what looked like another hastily made barricade of office furniture blocking their way, and it wouldn't have been an issue, if not for the gunfire that poured out of it. It was inaccurate suppressing fire, but the three of them had no cover and made a snap decision to break line of sight by diving in here... Pascal took a deep breath, and adjusted his glasses. That hadn't been the winning move, and, though they'd survived, they were trapped...

"Corto?"

"I'm thinking!" He snapped back, coldness replaced with a sudden flash of choler that made Pascal finch. The back-and-forth slingshot of his boss' emotion was making him uncomfortable. Corto just restlessly stood at the door. Diane had blanked out, a nonplussed, terrified look on her face, as she reflexively checked her weapon. With a deep breath, Pascal slowly reached down, and grabbed one of the pillows that had escaped destruction, and experimentally threw it through the doorway, out into the hall. As he'd expected, a burst of gunfire came from the dining room and tore it to scraps of fabric, and Pascal sighed. Trapped. With a madman, and a coward.

"Crap..." From the other end of the dining room, behind the barricade, Lisa looked embarrassed as she realized what she'd just shot, wisps of smoke like gray ribbons steaming from the muzzle of her gun. "S-sorry about that."

"Don't be." Gabriel replied, from the other end of the barrier, and Lisa raised an eyebrow. She was on the left, Gabriel on the right, setting up a dandy killing zone together. Anyone trying to run through would need to face a hail of armour piercing gunfire from their MP-12's. "You're actually doing a good job." He said, and Lisa looked a bit confused - and irritated.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"It's keeping them where we want them to be." Gabriel explained.

"I wasn't doing it on purpose!" Lisa exclaimed, a bit panicky, and her expression very awkward, a look behind her spectacles like she was desperately trying to keep herself together. "I feel... My trigger finger's."

"Twitchy?"

"Yeah." She took a deep breath. "I shot too early when they came out, too." Gabriel had said not to fire until they'd entered, since they'd be too far away to hit, but on seeing them, she'd tensed up and jumped the gun. "I'm not cut out for this..." She laughed a bit. "I don't know how Serena does it."

"You don't have to be like Serena, you know."

"Wha-"

"Just concentrate on being the best Lisa you can be." He flashed her a rather dorky, but sincere grin, and Lisa's mood shifted again. Something clicked in her head, and she went from tense to... Oddly curious.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Where'd I get what?" Gabriel's tone had a bit of a playful edge to it - obviously playing dumb.

"That..." Lisa took another deep breath, steadying herself, half her attention on the doorway where, any second, the mercs would burst through, intent on killing all her friends. "Inspirational stuff." She said, the other half of her attention on a thread of something interesting.

"What, am I out of character?" Gabriel responded, with a sarcastic laugh, and Lisa laughed with him - a bit, still just a mote tense.

"Did someone tell you that, once?"

"What do you mean?"

She flashed a very cattish, playful smile, as an intense, inquisitive look came in her eyes, as she turned back over to Gabriel - though, keeping the muzzle of her weapon on the door. "Call it a hunch..." She said, and Gabriel's mood shifted a bit, turning... Almost a bit irritated.

"If you have to know, Lisa," He sighed. "Yes. Someone I care about told it to me a long time ago, now, if you'll excuse me..." He kept the warm, gentle smile, but the look behind his eyes was a bit indignant - only intensifying the grin on Lisa's face, looking like a housecat that just spotted a plump mouse on the kitchen counter. "I'm entitled to my secrets, thank you, so if we're going to be friends, I'll ask that you stop probing me."

"You're no fun." Lisa laughed a bit, and Gabriel gave her a wry look.

"Are secrets your idea of a good time, Lisa?"

Lisa gave him a coquettish little laugh, and turned back to the entrance, looking through the sights of her gun. "You and Serena are both... Interesting." She said, making it sound to Gabriel's ears like a kitty-cat saying 'delicious.'

"But, back to the point." Gabriel adjusted his glasses, and turned his gaze back to the dining hall. "You're not giving yourself enough credit, Lisa."

"What do you mean?'" Lisa raised an eyebrow again. She didn't sound quite as tense - moreso annoyed, and Gabriel found a small smile coming to his mouth. "I've just gotten us stuck here. They're in that room, ready to rush-"

"Other way around."

"Huh?"

"THEY'RE the ones who are stuck, Lisa." Gabriel's smile turned more cocky - almost proud. "The thing with the pillow only confirmed it. That door's the only way out of that room, and for the time being, they're stuck in there."

"How's that good for us, though?"

"Well, we've got the home team advantage." Gabriel elaborated. "I mean, technically Anabel does, but we're her friends. Serena's told me about how these sorts of raids are supposed to go. Basically, the longer it takes for them, the worse it gets - and that means, the better for us."

"So..." Lisa found herself fixing her coat, her tone getting a bit less tense. "It's better to keep them in there for as long as possible?"

"Essentially." Gabriel said, cracking a smile. "Every second they're pinned down is a second they're not charging us, or throwing grenades..."

The nervousness suddenly crept right back onto Lisa's face at the mention of- "Grenades?..." Her mind flashed back to the police station. Serena and her avoided anything stronger than smoke bombs in fear of blowing themselves up... Her eyes lidded at the memory Not that it'd stopped Serena from blowing up half the building with a bomb to make an escape route. If she had to guess, the Ecstasy Battalion had only thrown stun grenades - which elicited another unpleasant memory - for that reason as well. In here, though...

"Yeah." Gabriel replied. "Pull the pin, throw it, boom." Goosebumps began to sprout on her shoulders - though, it might've been a cold wind from the kitchen piercing through the multiple layers she wore.

"What do we do if one lands in here?"

"Kick it or throw it back if you notice it quickly enough." Gabriel replied, plain and straightforward, like he was telling her how long to boil an egg. "Duck behind something sturdy if you don't."

"And if they manage to get up here?..."

"Run." He bluntly replied, and Lisa's expression turned uncomfortable.

"Okay..." Pascal said, from the other end of the hall, he and his team still pinned in the gallery. The three of them were crowded around the door, eyes on the ruined pillow outside - an uncomfortable reminder of what would happen if they didn't do this perfectly. "I still think we're doing this the wrong way."

"You punking out on us, Pascal?" Corto growled, and, from how many times he'd looked down on him now with a bloodthirsty, manic expression, Pascal had to admit is was losing its effectiveness, and his mind started to wander, weighing up whether his answer to that was really 'yes,' or 'no...'

"I'm not." Pascal replied, his tone cold and stern, still unsure if he was lying or not. "But what you're saying is the plan is to charge them head-on."

"With smokes..." Diane nervously added.

"And we'll flush the bastards out with frags once we're close enough." Corto's visage twisted into a wicked, vicious smile as he held up two of the round, black grenades. "We're not pulling amateur-hour shit here, Pascal."

"Yes, but I still say it makes more sense to use one smoke to block the doorway," He gestured slightly out the door - not enough to give the redhead or the ponytailed dude a shot at blowing his hand off. "And then double back and find a different way at them. They've only barricaded this one spot! Charging it would be stupid, if we have other options!-"

Corto clenched his teeth, and held his machine gun tightly, and Pascal saw a vein bulge on his forehead. "I keep telling you, Pascal-"

"Yes, I know!" He cut his boss off and dismissed him with a wave of his hand - to everyone's surprise, the intimidation finally wearing thin. "I know it's personal. They're right there. I wanna blow their heads off too, but there's no reason we can't be smart about this!"

"There's no guarantee there IS another way to get to them, Pascal..." Corto took a deep breath through clenched teeth. His tone sounded a mote less mad, and a more more calculating, and Pascal found a slim hope his commander's mind might have not degenerated past any hope just yet...

"It's a HUGE mansion!" Pascal yelled back. "There's dozens of paths-"

"And we don't have the time to search the whole goddamn house from top to bottom to try and find one that might not even exist." Corto growled. "Remember what I said? In. Kill. Burn. Out. We're not here to mess around."

"Yeah, but you're saying we charge over open ground at a fortified position." Pascal replied, gesturing out the door again. "Even with the smoke, there's still no cover and it's not like the rest of us are chromed out."

"Are you scared, Pascal!?"

"I've still got my damn head on straight, that's what!" Pascal finally lost his temper - and flinched, as he realized it might've been a step too far. Even Diane flinched pulled back, and Pascal could see Corto's hands tighten around his gun - if they were organic, his knuckles would have gone white.

"Lets' get one thing straight, Pascal." Corto leered over him, and Pascal nervously fixed his glasses. "This ain't a little commie-ass drum circle. This is a fight for revenge and our damn survival, and you don't call the shots around here." He let that sink in, the air around them cold as the grave. Once more, the sunglasses slipped from his face, giving Pascal a clear view of his boss' eyes, dashing what little hopes he had. Corto's eyes were glazed over, consumed with madness, bottoms of his irises clear and his pupils narrow and shaky, and Pascal needed to take a step back. His boss was glaring into him with murderous hatred, and, on instinct, he clutched his weapon tightly. "Is that a problem?" Corto barked, and bead of sweat ran down Pascal's forehead. His tone was flush with barely restrained choler, needing a bit more prodding to explode out like the flash of an A2 bomb.

"Not a problem..." Pascal said without thinking. The clinical part of his mind told him, this was it. There was no salvaging Corto's mind anymore, let alone changing it, and it had been made quite clear. His forte was the healing of the body, not the mind. Something stuck out at him despite this, and Pascal had to wonder why - was this all from Redmond's death?... No. He could only guess, but the death of a colleague and friend couldn't be the whole explanation. The mental pain of being beaten? Serena had outfoxed them twice, now, and it stung, he had to admit, but... He fixed his glasses, as Corto turned back to the door. No. It couldn't drive a sane man to madness... However, to someone who already a madman...

Pascal shrugged his shoulders, and checked his weapon. Safety off, round in the chamber, finger behind the trigger - for safety. "Lets' do this." He added, with no real enthusiasm. Finally, and decisively, Pascal chose to lie. He wasn't privy to the inner workings of Corto's mind. They'd been colleagues for years now, and he was ashamed at not having seen this coming... Then again, Pascal mused, if he knew, he wouldn't be here today.

Wordlessly, the three of them stacked up on the ajar doorway, tension as thick in the air as rancid lard. Gunfire awaiting them from the other side. Pascal just tried to reassure himself that his opponents were probably more tense than they were - they had no idea how FUBAR things were going - and the fact that, for his damn colleagues, it would be over soon. Corto was in the lead again, prepared to take point. They'd always done it like this; mostly because he was like a huge, mobile metal slab the rest of the team could take cover behind, but also because he was the boss, and had to show it. A merc captain couldn't order his men to do anything he wasn't prepared to. You needed to be able to convey respect and fear in equal measure... Pascal took a deep breath, and pulled a smoke grenade from his webbing. Right now, he mused, Corto was all fear and nothing to look up to. From how tightly he was holding the smoke bomb in his mechanical hand, Pascal got the impression of a spring wound up so tightly it threatened to blow the watch open completely and lodge itself in someone's eye.

He turned back to Diane. She had, as the rest of them, produced a smoke grenade and was holding it in her off hand, waiting to throw it, with a shell-shocked look on her face. Pascal knew it well. A wide-eyed, fear paralyzed stare. Overdosed with adrenaline and battered with stress. He couldn't blame her - between Redmond getting wasted, the damn security bots, and that they'd been having to jump at every shadow like they were fighting in a spook house... Goosebumps formed on the back of Pascal's neck as he mused, he must be going a batty as well - he could swear he'd heard the clanging of metal on metal somewhere outside.

Pascal shook his head and turned back to to the door, grenades at the ready. He took a deep breath, conflicting emotions rolling inside him as the battle loomed. This felt like partially Diane's fault; she'd let her emotions get the better of her and just let Corto and Vic's shortsightedness win. He turned back towards her, one last time, a pleading look in his eyes. This was their last chance. Maybe, just maybe, if Diane spoke up, Corto would have to concede, and they'd be able to get out of here. He tried saying it all with a look. An expression of long-time comradeship. A desperate glint in his eyes - please, just say SOMETHING... Diane, seemed to see it, but she just stared right past him, a guilty, reluctant look on her face, and Pascal turned away, flashing back to anger, a curse flashing in his head, and a stark, white-hot feeling of indignation coruscating up his spine - it felt like a betrayal. For a moment, he considered leaving her to her fate, but...

He exhaled, the feelings of anger and betrayal, replaced by guilt. No. At the end of the day, he couldn't. As a doctor, as a merc, and as Diane's... Well, as her friend. They'd worked together for years, felt the sweetness of victory and the bitter tang of defeat. The satisfaction of a job well done, and the cold, crisp delight of a well-planned out revenge. The memories of all those jobs and missions and late-night after-parties at the Cordite Lounge. Good whisky and cigars... Ah... How distant it all seemed, pinned down here in this cold, dusty, rank hell hole, haunted by clanging suits of armour... "Do you guys hear that clanging?" Pascal found himself asking-

"It's nothing." Corto growled back, mercilessly shooting him down, and he just took a deep breath. Well, guess he must be cracking, too. Point being that, even if she'd been a coward, Pascal found, when the chips were down, he couldn't abandon a dear friend and colleague.

"Ready..." Corto growled, in a rumbling whisper like an ancient petrol engine. It was a direction, not a question. Pascal felt his throwing arm twitch in anticipation. This was supposed to be fairly simple; rush the barricade under the cover of smoke and blow it apart with frags. Of course, the hard part was charging an open space against automatic gunfire. Pascal steadied himself, with a deep breath, and took one last look over his shoulder at Diane, still shocked, and still, like a marionette with a machine gun.

"Throw it!" Corto yelled out, and Pascal threw his first smoke grenade of the night, sailing through the door and landing in the carpet infront of them, brushing against the ruined pillow and spewing a cloud of gray fog, quickly filling the hall and spilling into the gallery, and a panicked, wild burst of gunfire poured from the barricade, and made a loud, clang of metal on metal as something beyond the fog caught a round. Pascal hesitated, for just a moment. This mad situation was getting to him - it was just suppressive fire, he told himself. Shaky, but effective in keeping them right where they were. Of course, without cover, their odds of being hit running through here were uncomfortably high, but...

"Go! Go!" Corto barked, as he bounded forth through the doorway, boots rapping on the carpet, and as he stepped into the hall, clouded by dense smoke, he squeezed the trigger and a hail of lead erupted from the muzzle of his heavy weapon, firing blind through the fog to suppress their enemy. From behind, Pascal and Diane followed him out, smoke bombs in hand, with a very unsteady and reluctant pace. Diane wore an unsure, blanked-out expression, but Pascal suddenly had a look of great and powerful resolve. They planned this to a T. Diane and Pascal would advance under a 'creeping barrage' of smoke grenades, whole Corto suppressed with his machine gun, before they advanced and blew out the enemy position with grenades. If everything went well, they'd be able to get out of this with only a few minor bullet holes - but Pascal had other plans.

The two of them, in harmony, pulled the pins off the next two smoke bombs and threw them into the dining hall, extending their cover, as Corto advanced, still mercilessly blasting through the fog, shell casings spilling out onto the carpet beneath him. The plan was for the two of them to advance as well, splitting up to new positions, but that's where Pascal begged to differ. He took a deep, resolute breath, turned to Diane, barely visible in the fog, and reached out to grab her by the arm, and she just looked confused and agitated, for a moment, before Pascal pulled in close - the two of them face to face in the fog, and put an index finger to her lips, and Diane snapped out of it. Like a sleepwalker suddenly waking, and her eyes widened, the two of them looking at eachother, suddenly of one mind.

"You'll get us killed-" She tried to warn him, but something came over him. Adrenaline? Terror? Sudden onset madness? The bloody-minded insanity this mission devolved into? Regardless, an urge suddenly flashed up that Pascal found impossible to suppress, and he reached in, and stole a kiss right off Diane's lips, feeling the tender warmth collide with his own, sweet like a summer breeze, and her eyes looked shocked. Gunfire rang in their ears and bullets flew all around them, the smoke keeping them in their own world for just a moment and Diane's face turned beet red, and the ice of shell-shock completely melted off, leaving only terror and nerves behind.

"We'll get killed if we stay." Pascal said, pulling her by the hand, feeling the warmth of her palm on his, fingers interlocking, and a burning feeling of resolve erupting in his heart. "We have to try." He said, a determined look behind his spectacles, and he pulled her away, from the smoke, from the doorway, from Corto and Serena's stupid associates whose names he never bothered to learn, yet seemed to be giving them so much grief, but to hell with it - it was Corto's problem. If he wanted revenge this badly, then he could have it - assuming he survived-

Pascal and Diane suddenly stopped in their tracks - eyes wide and a cold shock flashing up his spine as he saw, in the darkness, faint trickles of light through the fog piercing the smoke and dancing on the shimmering, moving metal before them, felt like a nightmare. They locked up, their escape route suddenly blocked off by a pair of approaching knights, swords held high, leaving no space in the hall to run past them, one of them already had a bullet hole square in its helmet, and it didn't seem to even faze it.

"DAMNIT, DAMNIT!" Pascal yelled out with vicious anger, hand on his weapon, fight reaction kicking in with their escape route cut, and a sudden, desperation blazing inside of him as he jerked the trigger and loosed a burst of automatic gunfire from his Calico. The flurry of 10mm rounds crashed right into the rightmost knight's steel exoskeleton, complementing its first bullet hole with a few dozen more, sending splinters of steel and mechanical components spiralling to the ground as it launched forwards, blade of its sword gleaming in the darkness, and Pascal found himself backing up and screaming out obscenities, and Diane neatly mimicked him, dumping her magazine into the oncoming death machine and retreating.

The knights quickly chased them back into the cloud of obfuscating fog, as Pascal clenched his teeth, his mood having turned to raw, frustrated choler. What cruel fate! He clenched his teeth. Now that he'd had something to escape for, the feeling of Diane's lips still fresh in his mind, it's been thwarted by!... Blind chance, terrible luck, and that bungling hacker! Is Vic wasn't dead, Pascal mused, then he'd better have a good excuse for this! Pascal and Diane were back in the fog, now, and the medic took a deep breath, and clenched his teeth. They were right back to where they started. He swore violently - it looked like the only way out, for now, was to slug it out for now. Pascal took another deep breath, and yelled out, "CORTO!" If he'd had to slug it out, then he wanted a madman on his side, not against him, "BOTS BEHIND US!" He added, a bitter, forced smile coming to his face, this was probably his punishment for leaving someone who was, once upon a time, a dear friend and trusted ally, to his fate.

From the other side of the barricade, Lisa felt her heart pounding in her chest, beating like a war drum. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead despite the chill pouring in from the open kitchen window. It all felt so strangely distant. Like none of it was real. The weight of the weapon in her hands, the feeling of recoil shooting up her shoulder as she squeezed the trigger, the roar and flash of the muzzle, the bullets whirling in the air all around her. It all felt so oddly unreal... Her eyes went wide, and her expression looked like she could see for miles. It felt like a dream, she mused. Like all of this was happening to somebody else, and she'd close her eyes, and be back at her townhouse. Or her parents' place. Or the university dorms. Or the break room at the Cybersecurity Division's offices.

A burst of gunfire blew apart a piece of the barricade, sending splinters of wood and paint onto the carpet, and Lisa snapped right back to reality, feeling the sonic boom ever-so-slightly caress her skin, and she jerked on the trigger, sending another badly aimed burst of fire into the dining hall, into the cloud of smoke. No... Reality crushed down on her, metaphorically smashing her hat and ruining her bright red-dyed hair. This was happening to her - not someone else. She was in a fight for her life against a team of crack mercenary killers... Her eyes lidded. For the third time this week!...

Lisa took a deep breath, and squeezed the trigger, feeling the punch of recoil in her shoulder, the muzzle flash in her bespectacled eyes. Sending another badly aimed burst of lead downrange - a flash of cold terror coming over her... Her hands were shaking... She couldn't keep the weapon still!... She clenched her teeth, and fired again, trying to pick a target through the dense fog. Unfortunately, all she could see was the occasional flash within, like a demonic lighthouse in a storm, signalling another bark of heavy weapons' fire. Lisa had come to realize it was the same machine gun that Serena had used in the mercs' hideout, except... A bead of sweat rolled down her face. It was being used against them, by a psychopathic cyborg hired gun who wanted them dead.

She pulled the trigger again, firing blind into the fog, finding no target through her eyeglasses. Everything seemed like a blur; gunfire ringing in her ears, shell casings clanging on the floor, clouds of smoke, muzzle flashes, screaming, yelling, and her hands kept shaking! Lisa bit her bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. Her hands kept shaking... She took a deep breath - why?! Why wasn't she... Able to keep cool?! After the shootout in the hotel and the police station and being face-to-face with Dr. Lazerian's zombie horde!... She took another deep breath, and squeezed the trigger, a bitter look in her eyes. She had to admit - all those times, she'd been kind of... Hiding behind Serena, but... She chanced a look, over to how Gabriel was handling things, and found herself impressed - and intrigued, with how well... Collected he was, dutifully putting burst after burst into the fog.

"Where did you learn all of this?!" Lisa yelled, jerking the trigger, eyes wide as the weapon went 'click!' and she realized she needed to reload."

"All of what?" Gabriel didn't even take his eyes off his sights, letting out another burst of armour piercing bullets. "How to shoot? Time at the target range." He flashed a smile. "Nothing fancy to it." To Lisa's mind, it just raised more questions, and she found a wily smile coming to her face...

"Is that it?" Lisa asked, her tone turning a bit playful, fear banished for the moment - though, she looked nervous as she fumbled the curved magazine a bit and nearly dropped it. "Don't take it the wrong way, but you're a scientist, not a fighter!" She added, and sighed in relief when the mag slid in with a satisfying 'click.'

"Weeeeeeellllll..." Gabriel's smile turned more coy, and he briefly fixed his glasses - before squeezing the trigger again. "Part of it did come from playing a lot of Tank War Europa." He laughed a bit, and a heavy-lidded look and an awkward smile crawled onto Lisa's face.

"God, it's like talking to my brothers again." She joked, and slid the bolt forwards, chambering another round, the ammo counter reading '30' again. The memories briefly flashed back to her. Three of them; she was the youngest child, and all absolutely crazy over war movies and games, and she'd be on the couch, late at night with them, covering her eyes and ears as shells and screams rang out onto the night...

"It's not all video games, though." Gabriel clarified, over the gunfire. "I consider myself something of a renaissance man."

"What, so you're stuck in the 16th century?"

"A polymath." He non-explained. "Someone with a very broad body of knowledge..." His smile, once again, turned more coy, and wily. "Lets' just say Mr. Van Steyr didn't have me tag along with you and Serena on the Dr. Lazerian job by accident, and get back to the fight."

Lisa felt a bit oddly ricked off, but... She took a deep breath. Somehow, oddly, she felt a bit better... She laughed a bit, pulling the trigger, finding her hands a bit more steady. This was the sort of thing her older brothers would probably have found cool, wasn't it? On the far side of the barricade, the curtain of fog in the dining hall was beginning to lift, and, her heart leapt, a flash of vigour and hope came into her eyes, and a reassured smile crawled onto her face as she saw, through the chaos, that they weren't alone in this fight.

With the smoke gone, she could see the three mercs, (who, judging by what they'd seen in the hotel, were probably the entry team) locked in a vicious fight with two security drones, and Lisa found herself shouting, "YES!" with a massive smile on her face. Serena had done it! She'd turned the security system on, and now it was a fair fight!... Although, an admittedly uncanny one, with the ghastly knights who'd chased them out of the manor, now fighting to protect them.

She scanned the chaotic dining hall through her sights, picking a target. Pascal was dodging the swings of one of the knights, Diane was putting round after round into it, trying to stop it bearing down on Pascal, and Corto's machine gun hung loose from its sling, as he fought doggedly to grapple and pull the sword away from the second security drone... Lisa took a deep breath, steadying herself, and putting her sights over the most obviously dangerous target in the room...

On the wrong side of the barricade, Pascal managed to barely avoid another brutally cold, overarm sword swing from the charging knight, it's wickedly sharp blade merely cutting a chunk out of his trenchcoat. He manoeuvred his firearm into position, jerking the trigger, loosing another point-blank spray of lead from his Calico into the aggressing knight, muzzle flash reflected in his polished suit of armour, shell casings clattering onto the carpet, and the burst of lead striking home. Some of the bullets harmlessly bounced off, but more still pierced weaker spots in the armour and blew apart servos and wires, and the infernal machine began to slow. He'd normally be encouraged, but, to his horror, the battlefield was changing. The three smoke bombs they'd thrown before the knights cut off their escape were beginning to puff their last, their shroud beginning to fade. A chill went up Pascal's spine, and his glasses felt like a lead weight on his face. This wasn't his first rodeo - he knew what it meant. If he could see properly - so could they!

His colleagues didn't seem to feel which way the wind was blowing though. Diane - to his elatement and worry - was busy pouring gunfire into the knight bearing down on him, a flurry of hot lead blasting out chunks of metal and circuits. From the looks of things, the damage she was doing was slowing it down, and it was beginning to jerk from pose to pose, and Pascal estimated it didn't have much fight in it left. Corto had abandoned his weapon altogether and was locked in a brutal grapple with the second knight. To his credit, though, the knight was giving ground, and they would normally be back on the upswing - but this wasn't a normal circumstance.

"THE SMOKE'S CLEARING UP!" Pascal yelled, as he fumbled another magazine into his Calico, and dodged another poorly aimed sword blow, as, all around him, the gunfire began to turn into background noise. "WE'RE DEAD IF WE STICK AROUND HERE-"

It all happened so fast. In the chaos, he'd seen Corto take a volley of gunfire to his back that, thankfully, didn't seem to slow the juggernaut down, but- his eyes went wide. His leg flashed in an inferno of pain, his nerves on fire as he could feel flesh rending and splattering beneath him, hear a panicked scream of pain from his own mouth, as a streak of red gore poured out. Pascal clenched his teeth, and tried to compose himself. He'd been shot in the leg, and was now wobbling a bit, but he couldn't fall. Keep steady, he told himself, just until I can get behind cover and fix this-

Time seemed to slow, and a deathly chill ran up Pascal's spine, his gaze turning back to what was infront of him. Despite being riddled with bullet holes and missing chunks of its components, the damaged security bot still shuddered and lurched towards him like a possessed marionette. It's helmeted head looked down on him with an eyeless, black gaze, and held its sword overhead, before bringing it down on him like the blade of a guillotine. Pascal, instinctively, tried to jump out of the way, as he'd already done a dozen times, but this time, he flinched in pain as his left leg, normally stout and dependable, gave way from under him, and his pupils narrowed as he saw the sword approach.

A spray of red hung in the air, and terror flashed in Pascal's mind as he realized it was his. The blade tore it's way out of his body, covered in dripping crimson, and the sheer force of agony, the burning, cutting of his flesh and muscle and bone, violently torn apart, provoked a blood-chilling scream, and Pascal collapsed to the ground, staring distantly at the vaulted ceiling, all the strength having left his body. His vision began to go pale, and he'd have a precious few reflect on the decisions that got him here... A last, agonized, realization crept into his mind. Diane hadn't been the coward. He had. Pascal's last thoughts, before his vision darkened, were of the gentle, tender, inviting feeling of what could have been his lovers' lips, and idly wondering if he was supposed to be seeing a light right about now...

"PASCAL!" Diane cried, seeing him fall to the floor, the knight pulling it's sword from the massive gash in his chest, gore leaking over the carpet. She jerked the trigger of her weapon, sending a desperate hail of lead into the murderous machine. As the weapon finally went 'click,' something finally broke off inside the casing, and the knight finally crumpled to the ground, landing face-down on the carpet, next to Pascal's mutilated, cooling body.

Seeing it with her own eyes, the body of a close friend, a trusted colleague... She took a nervous breath, hands shaking, teeth clenched, eyes moistening, and a red mist descending over her. Someone she loved, stiff on the ground. Diane screamed in fury and grief, an overwhelming wave of guilt and and anger and madness smashing into her mind, crushing it like a stone under the million-year assault of the ocean waves. Pascal was dead. Her heart felt like it was about to explode from her chest in a cascade of white-hot fire. She could have listened to him, she should have gone along with him, and she didn't and now he was dead and it was all her fault...

"I'LL KILL YOU!" She roared, fury and grief echoing throughout the mansion's dust-covered halls. The decision came to her in a moment. Her mind reflected on Pascal's last words. They were dead. Dead if they left. Dead if they stayed, and Diane found she didn't care anymore. Boots in motion, hands acting on their own, tearing off the dry magazine and loading in a fresh one, as she ran past the massive dining room table and sprinted towards the barricade, towards the enemy. Towards the bastards who'd killed Pascal: the weird looking hippie with a ponytail, and, on the other side... "RED-HEADED BITCH!" She screamed, nasty, murderous smile coming to her face. One last opportunity to settle the score and finally get even.

Diane stormed forwards, forsaking cover in a mad frenzy, jerking the trigger of her weapon and sending unaimed bursts towards her foe as she sprinted towards the barricade, sending her enemies down into cover, as she laughed maniacally. She'd never done this before. It'd always just been professionally going from cover to cover, but... She clenched her teeth. She never had anyone worth going berserk over, and now, she never would again.

The redhead briefly poked her head and weapon out of cover, and Diane flashed another nasty grin swung her muzzle around, getting a bead on the bespectacled bitch, but before she could squeeze the trigger, the muzzle of the redhead's weapon rang out, sending a hail of bullets her way. With distance and cover, it'd have been something laughable, but a few of the shots found home, tearing through her body armour and into her flesh, spilling her life's blood onto the floor. Her breathing increased in pitch - Diane finding it suddenly difficult to draw air into her lungs, but she gritted her teeth and persevered, loosing another burst of fire towards her foe as she closed the distance, flashing a wicked smile as the redhead ducked back into cover, and she scrambled over the barrier in a bestial frenzy.

Diane held her weapon tightly as she cleared the barrier and vaulted over, and, for a moment, she and the redhead were finally face to face. Behind her prescription glasses, through the sight of her machine gun, she looked absolutely terrified. Locked up, eyes wide, pupils narrow, mouth open in a scream, and let out a wicked, vicious bout of laughter. Her mind was ablaze with dozens of nasty torture ideas she'd wanted to inflict on that bitch, for taking Pascal away from her, but the weapon felt heavy and purposeful in her hands. She'd only have the time to give it right back. Eye for an eye-

Reflexively, from where she was almost laying down on her back, Lisa kicked straight up, driving her cute, stylish red go-boot right into Diane's stomach, knocking the wind right out of the merciless mercenary gunwoman. Diane flinched in pain and her aim drifted off, by just a bit, reflexively jerking the trigger and sending a hail of machine gun fire into the floorboards, a scant inch to the right of where Lisa's head was. Another shot rang out, to Diane's left and Lisa's right, and both of them were surprised to see the blonde's right hand explode in a shower of blood, gore and bone fragments, all of which fell onto Lisa's coat as Diane swore and screamed and dropped the dropped the machine gun down onto the floor.

Snapping back into action, and realizing she wasn't dead, Lisa finally aimed the muzzle of her MP-12 right into Diane's chest and squeezed the trigger, dumping the last few rounds of her magazine into her assailant, as she screamed out in pain and began to shake and seize up, blood spraying out of her and staining Lisa's coat, while Gabriel, off to her right, put four more rounds from his spy pistol into Diane's side, spraying yet more red onto the ground beneath them. The pain finally too much to bear, and her body too wracked with bullet holes to continue living, Diane found herself collapsing, falling onto the barricade and landing face down on the carpet - expending the rest of her spite to try to land right ontop of Lisa, who, with a terrified look in her eyes, was able to scramble out of the way in time.

With the last of her breath, Diane found she regretted a lot. The pain that wracked her soul felt a thousand times worse than all the bullets in her body. Poor Pascal, she mused. She hadn't listened to him, she couldn't avenge him, and she hadn't... One last painful laugh, one last wet breath, lungs rapidly filling with blood, the last of her energy leaving her body. She couldn't listen to her feelings and admit she loved him until it was too late. Now... Well, she found she didn't mind dying all that much. Maybe in another place and another time, she and Pascal could be lovers. Someday...

"Why'd she go after me?!" Lisa exclaimed, tone and expression at once, baffled irritated, terrified, and disgusted - mostly since, for the second time (and twice more than she ever wanted to in her life) she was covered in someone elses' blood. "You're the one who shot that guy in the leg!"

"Call it a hunch, but..." Gabriel quickly approached Lisa's end of the barrier, with a quizzical smile. "I get the impression she managed to acquire an intense dislike of you despite the fact you've never actually spoken."

"God, why would anyone hate me?..." She saw Gabriel looking away, saying nothing, and groaned, and quickly changed her weapon's magazine - and the subject. "But, we're doing good!...""Two down, one left?"

"That 'one' might be a problem..." Gabriel said, he and Lisa poking their heads back over cover, the redhead needing to go around the bullet-riddled corpse, cooling on the floor, and the both of them looked uneasy. On the other end of the hall, the table riddled with bullets and much of the furniture wrecked, one of the security robots was broken down, laying right next to the body of Pascal, and the second was flying through the air, thrown by what looked to be some sort of wrestling move, impacting the ruined banqueting table, landing on its helmet, and, it looked for all the world like it'd broken its neck, and the knight suddenly locked up, some vital component having been broken inside its mechanical shell. Corto, making sure, turned over to it and blasted it apart with his heavy machine gun, erupting into a furious roar, audible even over the clamour of gunfire, as Lisa and Gabriel ducked back into cover.

"Well, look at that..." Corto said, with a cold, murderous tone on his lips, the second knight now reduced to a pile of scrap. One of his fallen comrades was off in a heap, onto one side. The other was behind their fortification, and the two who'd killed them were right there, infront of him, and, Lisa couldn't quite see behind his shades, but, from the brief look she snatched, over the barrier, he looked like he was seeing red, and her face went pale. "It's just you two, and me now..." He growled, and slowly began approaching the barricade, muzzle of his weapon trained on their cover, waiting to blast them. His trench coat and body armour and cybernetics looked a bit shot-out and worse for wear, but it didn't seem to slow him at all, and, as he approached, Gabriel and Lisa were starting to look worried.

"We might need to leave." Gabriel took a deep breath. "We've got one last opportunity - but you'll need to take the killing shot." He said, pointing to Lisa's weapon, and her eyes went wide.

"Me?!"

"I've already used all the mags Serena gave me." Gabriel gestured to his - now empty - combat webbing. "And something tells me my own handgun isn't gonna cut the mustard here. You already put a dozen armour piercing rounds into the big guy, and it barely slowed him down.

"Well, this is my last magazine, too..." Lisa said, looking to her empty webbing, a chill going up her spine. How had she blown through all her ammo, so quickly? It all seemed like a blur - but the evidence, hundreds of shell casings, and the body of the blonde merc who'd tried to kill her, were all there. "But I'll try." She took a deep breath, her tone nervous, but resolute. Her hands weren't shaky anymore. She'd survived this far. Everyone was counting on her!... Lisa poked her head and weapon over cover, putting the rapidly approaching cyborg in her sights, catching a brief look at his stony, kill-crazy face, and squeezing the trigger, and-

Her eyes went wide and her mouth was agape in shock. On the second round, the very expensive, lovingly maintained weapon suffered a malfunction, an empty cartridge failing to extract and sticking from the ejection port like a dandy stovepipe. Lisa locked up - but Gabriel didn't, and he snapped into action and pulled her down by the collar of her coat, getting her behind cover a moment before Corto unleashed another roaring burst of lead from his heavy weapon, nearly blowing Lisa's head off.

"We'd better run, then!" Gabriel yelled, dragging her as he scrambled, still beneath cover, into the cloak of the dark, icy-cold kitchen behind her, and Lisa, crawling with him, half on instinct and half because she was literally being dragged into it, had a lot on her mind. She was frustrated over her weapon giving her the proverbial cold shoulder, and wondered where the hell Gabriel was dragging her, the two of them diving for cover behind the central island worktop, knives and pots and pans gleaming from where they hung in the darkness, snowflakes drifting in from the opened window, and a cold wind blew in, matching the shiver that went up Lisa's spine as she looked at the man-sized opening, and back to Gabriel, realized he was looking at it, too - put two and two together, and groaned.

"Oh God, not this again." She tried to protest. No wonder he and Serena seemed to get along so well - they thought more alike than either one of them seemed to know , or want to admit. Gabriel turned back to her, and gave his warmest, most reassuring smile - which did little to help.

"It's our best chance of getting out of here!" He whispered back, before stroking his chin. "Well, it might actually be the only way out of here, but-"

Corto cut him off, with a roar of vicious, white-hot anger that rang in their ears like the battle cry of the hordes of hell, as, behind them, he burst right through the blockade of desks, physically tearing through them like a combine harvester plowing through a shoddily built fence, sending splinters of wood and debris to the floor. "You killed my crew." He growled, standing in the hall, just outside the kitchen, weapon in hand, and brimming with incendiary hatred and vengeance. "Hope you're ready to join them!"

"GO! GO! GO!" Gabriel shot into action once again, and this time dragged Lisa by her wrist, up onto the counter and right through the open window, stale air transitioning to crisp, coldness as they passed through the threshold. Gabriel out first, Lisa pulled through second, coattails flapping in the wind as she was forcibly defenestrated into the cold, snowy night. Time seemed to go still, seeing Gabriel below, still holding tightly onto her wrist. The pale snow beneath her, the refreshing winter wind kissing her cheeks, her stylish hat flying right off her head - and a stream of hot lead blasting through the open window behind them, shattering glass, splintering wood, shredding her floating hat into ribbons of tan fabric, and putting a few holes into Lisa's coattails, and she landed face-first in the snow, for the second time this week, an audible crunch of white as it gave way beneath her.

Still hopped on adrenaline, she quickly pulled herself up and checked her legs - nothing. No blood. No bullet holes. Not even a scratch. Just a bit of soreness from the rough landing... She found herself laughing nervously to herself, on her knees, in the carefully crafted winter's snow, flakes dancing all around her. They'd escaped!... Though, she really wished she could have escaped in a nicer way than being dragged through a window - again.

"Lisa, c'mon!" Gabriel shook her, snapping her back to reality, and getting her to her feet, handgun in one hand, other pulling her up, and her eyes went wide as she realized why. They weren't out of the woods, yet. She turned over her shoulder and felt her heart skip a beat, as, in the darkened windowpane of the kitchen, she could see, the scythe of the reaper, in the form of Corto's viciously evil, and hellishly angry expression, barely kept concealed by his shades - and the muzzle of his weapon.

Gabriel acted fast, blasting wildly into the window with his handgun, the muzzle flash lighting up the night, the hot brass melting the snow where it landed, and his shots striking true and forcing Corto back from the window with a torrent of profanity, and the two of them ran, Lisa clenching her teeth as she struggled to remove the obstinate shell casing, but soon enough, she'd cleared the jam, chambered another round, and fought recoil as she sent another short burst into the window, just to make sure.

"What about Serena!..." Lisa's eyes went wide, and her face went pale, as she remembered her friend - the one who'd saved both of them by getting the Knights to help... Now, all alone in the mansion with a vicious, murderous cyborg. She found her feet nearly giving way beneath her, but Gabriel pulled her up, a serious, determined look on his face.

"She's a tough girl." He tried to crack a smile. "I know she can handle it..." The two of them kept running, through what Lisa thought was the manor's backyard - she couldn't see it too well through the snow darkness - leaving footprints behind them that rapidly filled with snow, making for the silhouette of a small building ahead. A groundskeepers shack, or a shed or something?... Whatever it was, it'd be better than being out in the snow. The tips of Lisa's ears and her nose were already hurting from the chill...

Lisa took a deep breath that hung in the air infront of her, and shivered madly, from the cold, and from nervousness. She wanted to say something, but found her tongue slack in her mouth. They were out of the game, and all out of ammo, weren't they? Even if they ran back into the manor - what would they use? Gabriel was right here, she realized. All they could do was trust their friend, and hope they'd bought enough time for her to finish this.

Serena exited from The Matrix, and almost immediately regretted it.

Her mind decoupled itself from the computer, and her consciousness returned to her body amid a flood of sensation, hitting her like an aluminum bat to the temple. A crushing, oppressive hollowness was setting her psyche alight, visions of spurting, warm redness in mind, while, in her eyes, vision rapidly returning to her, Serena could see, a look of shock, that she was in the midst of falling right out of her chair. The unwanted airtime made her sick, and impact the carpet nearly forced out a torrent of vomit.

"You're gonna die..." She heard a voice in her head. She was breathing in, and out, in, and out, almost hyperventilating. "Don't black out..." She said aloud. "If you close your eyes, you're gonna die." Her fangs buzzed, her tongue felt hot and uncomfortable in her mouth, and a bleak, dark hunger gnawed at her very soul, eating away at her, gnawing, chewing, and Serena was grinding her molars. She couldn't stand it. She needed blood. NOW. She breathed. In. Out. Trying to stay calm. Trying to stay awake. Think about something besides the sticky, warm, iron taste of blood in her mouth-

"Don't black out. Don't black out. Don't black out. Don't black out." She repeated it to herself, over and over, like a meditative chant. Survival. That was it. That was the anchor. She needed to live. She was going to die if she stayed on the floor. Her vision was runny at the edges, her body felt weak and feeble, her mind desperately screamed at her for blood. "You're gonna die." She said, and all of her friends were going to die because of her...

Summoning all the strength she could, clenching her teeth, wincing in pain, Serena threw herself up from the floor, her head spinning, her legs unsteady underneath her, and her vision seeing double. Instinctively, she threw the trodes off her head and took in several deep gulps of air, beads of sweat running down her forehead, doubling over, trying to not violently eject the protein bar she'd had for supper, and forcing down a stupid urge to sink her fangs into her own arm. "Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus..."

She shook her head and took another breath of stale air, looking around the messy server room, trying to collect her bearings. Everything was as they left it; massive mainframe, the bunny tent, oxygen pump, scanning machinery... She didn't really know what to look for, but all the dials and lights looked... Fine to her, through the little plastic window. On the central operating table, the girl she would now be calling Anabel was sleeping peacefully, stitches ringing her head like a crown, but all other evidence was fast fading; she was healing quickly, thanks to modern medicine.

Finally, there was herself. Serena was still trying to stand upright, not black out, and not die, but... She took another deep breath. She was still awake. She felt for her weapons, feeling what she had to work with. Gabriel had her MP12, and that meant all she had was her Beretta P49 in her holster, and the large butterfly knife in her coat... As well as a crumpled up packet of cigarettes. She sighed. It would have to do - and she couldn't regret having done it. Gabriel would clearly need the edge-

"You killed my crew." Serena's eyes went wide, and she went even paler. "Hope you're ready to join them!" Came a roar from the hallway, full of murderous anger and vengeance. A horrifyingly familiar one.

"Corto..." The words left Serena's lips, before a hail of gunfire rang in her ears, like the trumpet heralding the apocalypse, and she nearly collapsed to the ground. "Crap... Crap... Crap..." He was alive - and too close for comfort. Her feet felt leaden in her riding boots, and her mind began to scramble into action. Were her friends alive? Had they... Been gunned down by Corto's burst of lead!? A painful, angry, guilty look came onto her. She had no idea. She couldn't even do anything about it as she was. She'd just have to, wherever they were, have faith in them. That just left her and Anabel. Corto was out in the hall. She could hear him. She could SMELL him. Gunpowder, machine oil, sweat, and... She licked her fangs. Blood-

"No! No! Focus!" She clenched her teeth, and violently shook her head. She couldn't afford a lapse in concentration - Corto was here. She'd have to fight him off. Slowly, she pulled the handgun from her belt, feeling its reassuring weight in her palm - yet, it still felt inadequate compared to the M660 she'd stolen, then abandoned. Again, though, it would just have to do.

Serena turned back to the entrance hall, weapon at the ready, and she heard, from somewhere outside, more gunfire, and stinging, foreign profanity from Corto's mouth - but not the M660's infernal roar, and Serena found a flush of vigour and hope in her veins. That had to be them, she mused!... Who else would Corto be swearing at? Now would be a good time to strike, she mused. She took an experimental step towards the door-

Her vision suddenly blurred, seeing double, spinning wildly, and Serena's mouth opened in a scream. Her legs gave out underneath her, her stomach felt violently ill, and that gnawing, disgusting, soul-eroding need for blood flared up, like gasoline thrown into a bonfire. She didn't hit the ground this time; she'd managed to throw out a free hand and catch herself, in the nick of time. "Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit..." She said, over, and over. Her expression manic, eyes wide, vision blurry, adrenaline taking over, as she scrambled to pull herself back to her feet. Corto definitely heard that. She took in deep breaths of stale air, her clothes soaked in sweat, and an awful realization came over her.

You should have listened to Gabriel when you had the chance. Serena cringed with pain, and guilt. It felt worse than being scourged with a knout. He was only looking out for you, the little voice in her head said. Now you're gonna die, and so will Anabel, and him and Lisa and Jules, and - Serena clenched her head with her free hand - everyone else, and its all your fault... She took a deep breath. You know you can't even protect yourself like this, Serena - How do you plan on protecting anyone else?

Her eyes flashed open again. She took a deep breath, calming down, as a much less negative thought crossed her mind. She didn't have to. She could barely aim down the sights of her handgun, but did she really need to?... She holstered the pistol, and eyes went to the door. "Run." She whispered to herself. "Run as far, as fast as you can..." She took a deep breath. Could she?... She looked down and felt a bit sick. Her legs already felt uncertain, but, if she put her mind to it... "Anabel." She said, and turned her gaze back to the bunny tent, and an awful, crushing guilt came over her. After all they'd been through, after all Anabel had done to help her, to make her... A real person, after she had become... Serena laughed, very uncomfortable. After she'd become such an unlikely friend, She couldn't leave Anabel behind. The mercs would storm in, see her sleeping peacefully, raise their weapons, and-

Serena found the butterfly knife coming out of her coat, and, on instinct, she spun it open - a well-rehearsed trick. Fear and adrenaline suddenly replaced with anger at the thought. No. She wouldn't allow that. Fighting off pain and sickness, Serena sprinted forwards and made a snap decision, carving a massive gash from the bunny tent, and stepping in, air leaking out of it with an audible hiss, like a punctured balloon castle. She folded the knife, stowed it, and took a quick look at Anabel, her face so tranquil as she slept, dressed in that same hospital gown from the pauper's ward they'd picked up her... Donor.

A faint redness around her shaved scalp, evidence of the care Drs. Elwood and McGarahann saw to her, and Serena quickly tore her out, grabbing her with both arms and disconnecting the monitoring patches and scanning equipment. Serena really, really hoped Anabel was stable enough to be moved, but so far, nothing bad seemed to be happening, as she stepped back out of the tent. She'd installed an artificial intelligence onto a human body, and it felt like Anabel was sleeping in her arms. Like Serena was carrying her off to bed. She cracked a brief smile at the situation, before her vision blurred and went double again and she fought to stay upright, fangs feeling hot and disturbed and her eyes going wide as she realized, she was staring bullets into Anabel's neck, and turned her eyes back to the door. Focus, she told herself. Time to go.

Anabel was a lot heavier than she'd been expecting - which, on reflection, meant her expectations needed adjustment. This was a fourteen year old girl's body. It wasn't that she couldn't lift her, but, the way she was now, it was a close thing. Serena took a deep breath, as she slowly made for the door, feeling unsteady and weak. Too week. She desperately needed blood, but- She clenched her teeth, and shook her head. Absolutely not!... It had to wait, she told herself. Until she could get herself and Anabel to safety... Sweat dripped down her face, needing to focus all of her willpower on going through the doorway, going out the hallway, turning to her right-

She froze, eyes wide, and Serena wondered if she finally cracked. Or if she was really dead, and this was punishment for her sins. On the other end of the hall, emerging from the kitchen, was a vicious tower of metal and flesh, hands clamped around a heavy machine gun. Each step, each motion, each gesture dripped with violent, mad pent-up anger. A pair of black sunglasses turned towards her, and she flinched back, as Corto cracked a malicious, wicked smile.

"Serena..." He growled, with a tone so cutthroat it could have drawn blood. "And who's the girl you're carrying with you, like you're her freakin' mother!..." She shivered, and took a step back, Anabel heavy in her arms, and an uneasy feeling coming over her. She could feel a cruel malevolence in Corto's tone - talking about Anabel like she was a kitten he intended to drown. "Nevermind that - you're just the lady I was looking for... You and I have some unfinished business." His grin widened, like the bleak, uncanny smile of an elder horror in the guise of a cat. "I wanted to kill your friends, cause they killed mine, get it?" Serena took another step back, a bead of sweat running down her face, as the lamps over Corto's head cast a dense, black shadow on his face. He kept lurching towards her, like a man possessed. Anabel still slept in her arms with a peaceful expression - contrasting the scared, suddenly mortal expression on Serena's face, as Corto drew closer. "But I think I'll have more fun pumping your body full of lead and cutting your damn head off when I'm done!"

Serena didn't wait - her mind quickly shifted gears, and adrenaline, desperation, and self-preservation took over. Before she even knew it, she'd spun a hundred and eighty degrees in the opposite direction and stormed off, a look of terror on her face. She had to escape - she could barely fight, even without carrying a teenage girl, and she stormed off, desperately looking for safety - wherever that was. Behind her, Corto erupted into a roar of hellish, vicious anger, and his weapon screamed with a storm of lead, the muzzle exploding with light, shell casings falling to the carpet below, and bullets ringing all around her.

Serena didn't expose either of them to fire for tool long. She clenched her teeth, desperate to escape the murderous cyborg and his heavy weapon, and, for a moment, she thought she'd found it, eyes scanning on an open passageway - the one that led down, where she and Gabriel had an... She shook her head. Uncomfortable conversation. The harsh scourge of regret lashed down on Serena's mind for only a second - escape taking priority. It was something she could feel guilt over if she and Anabel lived. She looked down, lead bursting around her, a feeling of resolution coming from the way her chest rose and fell as she breathed, a flash of adrenaline going through her as she rounded into the stairwell, in the nick of time-

Her eyes went wide. A flash of pain erupted in Serena's leg as she realized, to her horror, she hadn't been as quick as she hoped, and had been shot in the right calf while turning into the stairwell. Running on instinct, she hadn't been worried, because normally, it only meant a painful process of getting the bullet out, and for now, she could press on and rely on her nanite-infused blood to heal the wound, but that thought evaporated when her vision went blurry again, and she put her right foot down and screamed out in agony, a stabbing pain going through her whole body, and, before she knew it, Serena found herself tumbling down. Something that was already bad enough - but to her horror, she realized she was tumbling right off the landing, and into the wooden, red-carpeted stairs, screaming for her life, and everything was a blur.

Serena quite remember it all after the fact, but she did remember it hurt like hell. The pain of the gunshot faded as she clutched Anabel tightly to her and a loud series of bashing as she felt the impact batter and bruise her as she fell, finally coming to a halt against the wall, at the bottom of the first landing, halfway down, eyes spinning, and holding Anabel as tight as she could, and thankfully, she wasn't much worse for wear... Serena took a deep breath. It certainly felt like her own body had taken the worst of the fall - and her eyes flashed wide, the sense of danger crashing through her veins. "get up get up get up get up get UP GET UP GET UP!" She shouted, as she forced herself back onto her feet, propping herself up against the wall, and screaming out in agony again as she accidentally put more force down on her shot-out leg, sending a coruscating flash of agony through her soul.

"I'm gonna die..." She she gritted her teeth. "We're both gonna die if I stay here..." She focused her mind, trying to block the agony... The nanites - a pale feeling came onto her. She looked down, and saw, to her horror, the wound didn't seem to be closing. It felt ghastly to realize that she'd anticipated that queasy, flesh-knitting feeling as the wound closed, but... Nothing. She took a deep breath, shivering, because she knew why. She was low on blood. The nanites had little to work with - she felt like a car running on fumes... Serena shook her head. No. That had to wait. She could wait...

Escape was the most important thing, and, steeling herself, holding Anabel tightly, stormed down the remaining stairs, as, out of the corner of her red eyes, she could see the faintest glimpse of Corto, all dressed in black, face twisted into a vicious, demonic grimace, in the doorway, muzzle down into the stairs, and Serena's ears rang with the roar of gunfire as his heavy weapon tore up the space she and Anabel had been, a moment ago.

Sweat rolled down her neck as she hit the bottom, landing on the basement level and another flash of agony rushed over her as she put weight on her shot-out leg. Fangs buzzed in her mouth as she tried to keep herself standing, pain warring with black hunger as Serena, wearing an expression between desperation and determination, fought through the pain, trying to LIVE! She stormed right through the ornate double doors that led into the basement, and, twisting Anabel to one side, flew into them like a rugby player turned-burglar, with all her strength and willpower, like the devil was chasing her.

Thankfully, unlike its virtual counterpart, the real-world door leading into Schwarzwalder Manor's basement wasn't locked, made of steel, covered in ICE, or any such contrivance that would have stopped a rugby tackle, and Serena blew it off its hinges, and stumbled a bit, but managed to stay upright and flee into the darkness of the basement, as, behind her, she could hear yet another burst of gunfire, and a crashing, splintering noise, as though Corto had leaped over the railing and into the bottom of the stairwell (she wasn't about to look over her shoulder and check) and yelled out from behind her, "YOU CAN'T RUN!" His tone dripping with malice and hatred and madness and only rousing Serena to improve her speed. "I'LL FIND YOU, SERENA! AND I'LL TEAR YOUR DAMN ARMS OFF, AND FEED THEM TO YOU!"

A stabbing agony flashed up her right leg every time she put it down onto the floorboards. Anabel, somehow, was beginning felt heavier in her arms as she ran threats ringing in her ears, as she tried to take stock of where she was. "You can run, Serena..." Corto's voice echoed from behind her, going from a bestial roar, to a low, murderous growl, and Serena picked up the pace, hot air brushing her fangs. "You can run all you like, tire yourself out, but I'm coming for you..." For the second time today, she was in the basement of Schwarzwalder Manor - but its real incarnation differed wildly from the virtual one. For starters, it was more than one room.

Serena turned another corner, boots rhythmically banging on the hardwood floors, breathing rhythmically in and out, trying to ignore Corto's threats and the overpowering demand for blood, gnawing at her spirit. Her body was demanding a break, but her mind knew, if she stopped for a minute, that was that, and she might as well try writing her will in blood on the flagstones. She clenched her teeth, and tried to force herself to breathe through her nose, as she'd been taught. Her expression was still pained, but now there was a flash of worry in her eyes - where was she even going?!

"You ever look someone in the eye, when you kill them, Serena?" Corto's voice, like a hellish funeral bell rang from behind her, and Serena, to her horror, realized she couldn't go any faster. This was her limit, her legs feeling worn and leaden beneath her, and pain flashed each time she put her right foot down. "No, you don't, do you - you got your friends to kill all of mine." He growled, and Serena shivered. "But don't you worry about that Serena - I'll be courteous. I'll take my glasses off, so I can look you square in the eyes while I cut you up!" Mocking, malevolent laughter rang in her ears. "It'll be like we're husband and wife going through a murder-suicide!"

She clenched her teeth and tried to ignore all of it, and figure out where she was - and where she was going. Having seen Schwarzwalder Manor from top to bottom, Serena's impression was that it was a vanity project. Jonas seemed to have gone to the builders and said, 'I want everything' and got the full aristocrat experience. The manor itself was a large, elegant, modern masterpiece, kept from filth and poverty by the false sky of the dome. It continued into the basement, and as Serena fled through the dark, winding passageways and chambers, she still couldn't answer the question of exactly what this place WAS.

Jonas seemed like he couldn't decide if he wanted a wine cellar, a dungeon, or a crypt, and he got all three. The overall style was stone and vaulted arches, like a church undercroft. Under her feet, there were hardwood floors, and she'd ran past racks and barrels of fine vintage, heavy metal doors she'd rather not think about right now, and dozens and dozens of stone caskets. She hadn't been counting, but Serena felt that, even if Jonas emptied every cemetery on the continent, he wouldn't have found enough of his ancestors to fill even a third of this place...

"I'm not gonna stop there, Serena." Corto growled, from somewhere behind her, his evil, malicious laughter echoing through the basement halls. "You've got alot to answer for - killing my crew, blowing up my hideout, stealing my blackmail!" Her eyes went wide, and an uncomfortable smile crawled onto her face, as she looked down at Anabel, sleeping peacefully in her arms, face like a tranquil, china doll.

"So, that's what you stole..." A nervous laugh escaped her mouth. "Good lord, no wonder they want to kill us." She envied her a bit, Serena had to admit. She looked so... Content. Away from the concerns of the world and from the mess she'd gotten them into, but... Her eyes looked more alert. Not for long, if she didn't keep the pace up.

"I think I'll have some fun with you, Serena!..." Corto yelled out from behind her, spurring her on, deep, nervous breathing escaping her mouth. "You owe me a whooooole lot - so I've come to collect. Before I kill you, I think I'm gonna have my way with you..." Vindictive laughter shook the whole basement, like an earthquake cracking open the ground, to reveal the glowing pits of hell. "You a virgin, Serena?" He taunted, and a chill went up her spine. "When I get you, I'm gonna stick you to the ground with my knife, and violate you! I'll show you what happens when a bad girl like you makes enemies out of a guy like me. You think I got to where I am by being nice, puta!?" She began to shiver, her legs feeling weak and unsteady beneath her. "Everyone knows 'never cross a merc.' We make examples. I'll make you BEG for me to kill you - but I'll drag it out. I'll take my time. You're gonna SUFFER, Serena! I'm gonna make you regret being born a woman!"

Serena clenched her teeth and tried desperately to ignore it and keep sprinting, scrambling, hoping to find an exit... Somewhere, but, to her horror, she realized she was beginning to lose steam, and had no idea where she was going. The whole place felt anarchic. It sprawled out with no clear structure, and it just left Serena realize she was starting to slow down.

She clenched her teeth, trying to focus, trying not to let Corto's threats of the atrocities he'd planned ring in her mind. If he caught her, or Anabel... She felt her hands twitch, as if grasping for weapons, but a grim melancholer realization caught her. No - as it was, she could barely hold Anabel up. She had to keep going. She had to keep running. If she slowed, for a moment, she'd black out. Serena took in a deep gulps of air, trying to motivate herself, trying to direct her mind to escape and things like a warm bed, hot mug of real coffee, cigarettes, a fine symphony, and her friends, doubtlessly waiting for her...

"You're only gonna die tired, Serena..." Corto's haunting voice crawled out from somewhere behind her, like a gigantic, bandy-legged spider, and Serena felt a chill - he sounded closer behind. "You might as well kill yourself now - you won't have to see what I'm gonna do to you, after all!" She turned another corner and scrambled into what looked like another large chamber, breathing heavily, her legs aching and flashing in agony every time she put her foot down, and, with the terrible, gnawing feeling biting at her soul, Serena was gradually realizing she was at her limit.

"No... No..." She said aloud, in between huge gulps of stale air. She tried to focus, block out the pain, the hunger, the fatigue, her legs unsteady and wobbling beneath her, as she entered the round burial chamber, with a high, vaulted ceiling. The masonry was haphazard in places, and the whole structure was supported by wooden rafters. A ring of stone caskets were nested in recesses in the wall, and the central fixture of the room was a large granite mortuary slab that, to Serena's horror, she realized that she was falling right into it. She screamed, her vision going blurry, fear and desperation overcoming her, and Serena held Anabel tightly and wildly tried to avert her fall, turning away from the slab, spinning herself around, trying to make sure Anabel didn't hit the floor - and there was an audible thump as she did. Serena landed flat on her back, and the blow nearly knocked her - and might've done so, were it not for her nanotechnologically enhanced constitution, though, she realized, to her dismay, that, just like she was, the nanites that kept her going, and kept her alive, were at their limits.

Anabel was sprawled over her, still sleeping peacefully. For the second time, Serena had managed to keep her from being knocked around by the vampire putting herself in harms way. Her vision was blurry, her body felt leaden and completely worn down, but still hopped up on adrenaline, Serena tried to pull herself and Anabel up and get back to her feet and continue her escape, and to her shock, her face going even paler, and a drop of sweat running down her cheek - she realized she couldn't. A look of desperate terror crawled onto her face, an awful, stupefying realization crashing down on her, like a macabre silver chandelier falling from its chain and destroying the hapless girl that stood in its way. She couldn't move! She could barely even keep her head up! She'd used her last reserves of strength to drag herself into this mortuary chamber, and her body simply refused to go another step.

Not profusely. The flow of blood had slowed to a trickle, but her nanite-infused, cancerous life's blood was leaking out of her, staining her jeans a cloying, dark crimson, turning it stiff and uncomfortable, and dripping onto the floor, a trail of droplets marking her trail like rose petals. Serena cringed at the awful memory. It had to be some sort of joke on fate's behalf - or maybe it was karma. She'd once tracked an enemy by a trail of blood - and now it was her turn. That was just it, though. She was bleeding. If she needed any proof her nanites were throwing in the towel, this was it. Her body felt cold and clammy. Her nanotechnologically-enhanced constitution had once healed a nasty knife wound in a matter of minutes. It was looking like the nanites were out of fuel - and, Serena realized, staring transfixed at the stream of crimson going down her leg, so was she.

Serena found herself licking her lips, hands shaking. Her fangs were buzzing. Her whole body felt deathly cold, but her mouth was uncomfortably hot, and her red eyes were completely pinned to the trail of blooooooood. Escaping her, like she was a badly maintained car. The gnawing, biting feeling inside of her was taking hold over her, and Serena breathed in, deeply, in, out, in, out, staring at the trickle of BLOOOD. She needed it. She ran her tongue over her fangs. She couldn't ignore it anymore, and now that she was down here, about to die, she couldn't get it, and she found herself nearly foaming at the mouth with futile rage.

Why didn't she listen?! She had the chance! Her hands began to clasp around Anabel. She had so many chances, but she'd been stupid and neglectful and always just assume she'd have some other opportunity and now there were none and she could hear Corto getting closer and closer, the threats of rape and torture and murder ringing in her ears as she clenched Anabel tighter. She felt disgusted and afraid and desperate and her mind screamed out at her to sink her teeth into soft, quivering flesh... Where, though?... "Corto..." She whispered, and shuddered. It... Could work. He might be half machine, but he still bled - but that was impossible. She found herself squeezing Anabel tighter. He'd tear her apart! If she was in good physical condition, it might be a fair fight, but...

"Damn it!..." Serena whispered to herself. The only source of blood in this ridiculous aristocrat's dungeon - built to house his ego, apparently! - and it was in a rampaging, murderous cyborg who would kill her and do worse things the moment he got his mitts on her! Serena squeezed her even tighter, feeling soft, yielding flesh buckle underneath- Her eyes flashed open, and she screamed, and loosened her grip... Anger suddenly replaced by guilt at hurting someone she'd been trying to protect, seeing indentations she'd made in Anabel's alabaster skin, red and sore, blood rushing to the surface-

Her eyes went wide, transfixed on the red. No!... She couldn't!... Serena looked away. She'd been wrong - there was someone else here who bled... A girl who'd had a purely digital existence until now. A girl who wanted so badly to be real that she'd roped her and her friends into giving her a new body, so full of life and blood... Her fangs buzzed. Her mind revolted at the thought, but her body - and its dark hunger - were screaming sweet nothings into her ears. She couldn't! It would be a violation of everything she believed in! Serena flinched back, in anger, fear, and desperation, while the sound of Corto's boots got louder in her ears. She didn't want to subject anyone she cared about to it. She didn't want to turn her friends into compliant bags of blood - but she was going to die if she didn't. That was the sticking point. That was what the voice in her head was telling her. Do it, Serena. It said. Drink, or you and Anabel are worse than dead.

"I can't." Serena lied aloud. Her eyes were transfixed on Anabel's neck, slumped over, in her legs, in the hospital gown, it was exposed. So pure, so soft, so supple, and Serena found herself leaning in, feelings of self-loathing smothering her like dense furs. A gnawing feeling in her soul telling her she was a terrible person. A voice in her head saying she needed to. You and Anabel are going to die if you don't. "I can't..."

orto's approach got louder and louder. Serena's eyes went to Anabel's face, a heavy feeling in her heart as she saw the peaceful expression she wore. It was repellent and... Enticing at once. "I caaaaan't..." She shivered, mouth hanging open, cold air brushing her fangs, Corto getting closer and closer, her heart thumping painfully in her chest... "I... I caan't..." She sounded desperate - and could practically feel the blood rushing through Anabel's veins - the smell of it, her own life leaking from her, was overpowering. "I can't... I need to... I can't..." Her own life was feeling dimmer and dimmer, her vision beginning to darken... "I can't. I need to. I can't. I need to. I can't. I need to... I need to... I need to... I need to! I NEEEEED TOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

Whatever moral restraint she'd had snapped, and Serena leaned in, opening her mouth wide, feeling the rush of air run over her fangs. Her mind had been going back and forth, ablaze in different directions, and all sorts of questions. Eventually, it settled on one. The very first question that came to her when she saw her fangs in the mirror for the first time and realized what she became. She may have been animated by nanotechnology, rather than a mystic curse or a demonic puppeteer, but Serena was a vampire, all the same. To continue to live was to need blood. She realized this, and had came to accept it as her existence. In that boardroom, that faithful day. Serena made her choice. She could have thrown herself out the window, onto the street below, and died pure of heart, taking no one elses' life to sustain her own, but she chose to live, and chose to be a blood-sucking monster.

That question crept into her mind again - die pure, or live with what she'd done. This time, there was more to it - it wasn't just her life on the line. It was Anabel's too. This... Real life, that she'd just been given, that, unless she acted, would end all too soon. That was what drove her. It wasn't just her own life she played with - it was the life of someone she'd come to care for. Serena sunk her fangs into the supple, white flesh of Anabel's throat, and hoped there would be some way she could make it up to her.

Her eyes nearly rolled back into their sockets as the first flush of blood hit her veins. Her whole body warmed up. Her whole soul felt electrified. A rush of pleasure and euphoria came over her as she drank of Anabel's vitality. Strength came back to her limbs, clarity came to her eyes, and her nerves burned with the heat of the forge as Serena felt the nanites get to work. Patching her up. Giving her strength. Her leg flared with an uncomfortable - but far from painful flesh-knitting feeling. Muscle tissue reconnecting, severed nerves rejoining, the machine insider her making it good as new... Serena took in a deep breath, smelling the scent of Anabel's skin. Feeling Anabel's flesh in her hands. Feeling the pulse of Anabel's heartbeat. Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Each one sending another flash of vigour into her veins, and she felt warm. Fulfilled. ALIVE. Serena held the ghost girl tightly, eyes narrowing in ecstasy, a flame burning in her very soul-

Her eyes widened at the realization. Serena quickly pulled her fangs out, with great reluctance, still slick with blood, and breathed in deeply... She'd caught herself in the nick of time. Only as much as was necessary. That was part of... Her code. If she had to break it, Serena resolved, she'd only do it in tiny pieces. Only by necessity. She looked at Anabel's neck, trying to focus herself, watching the two pinpricks, still leaking a tiny trickle... Serena extended her tongue, and then snapped, and pulled away, flinching in pain. No. She'd already taken her fill, and she really, really hoped it was, indeed, 'enough' - and that she hadn't hurt the poor girl.

Serena took another deep breath of the stale, blood-tinted air as she finally pulled herself back to her feet, Anabel in her arms, eyes going down to her leg. Aside from the hole in the denim and the bloodstains, all the evidence of her injury had vanished, and she was back on two feet, with newfound strength, like the great vigour that comes after prolonged sickness. She briefly found a warm, determined smile coming to her face - that faded as her head snapped back to the doorway, where a trail of blood was leading a bitter enemy to where she'd fled. She wasn't out of the woods yet, Serena realized, and she needed to make a decision quickly.

Could she run? After... Refuelling, she felt energized enough to make a break for it, and she could flee out the other entrance to this chamber, but... An uncomfortable feeling crept into her stomach like a nest of vipers. She had no idea where she was going. This place felt like a maze, and a chill went up Serena's spine as the possibility the only way out might be the way she'd entered - the route Corto was taking to get to her, and, much as she might want to, she couldn't exactly keep running forever. Stand and fight?... She began to look uneasy. Despite veins full of blood and a fire in her heart, Serena had to, begrudgingly, admit that she'd only gone from 'fish in a barrel' to 'speed bump.' Corto had cybernetic enhancements and a machine gun. She had a pistol, knife, and a leather coat. Not exactly a fair fight.

Her eyes flashed wide. She could hear the scramble of boots on hardwood and her eyes darted around the burial chamber, trying to find somewhere to spring an ambush. Her gaze went over the recesses in the wall, and the stone caskets within, and she sprinted up to one, Anabel in her arms, an ingenious idea coming over her!... Though a split-second of actual thought revealed 'climbing inside one of the caskets to jump out,' was utterly moronic and likely to get her head blown off. Serena swore under her breath... Though, after a moment to think some more, she raised an eyebrow. If she was going to fight him, She DID need a place to hide Anabel.

Serena quickly got to work, leaving the ghost girl on the ground and throwing aside the stone casket's lid, revealing what at first appeared to be a spiderweb covered skeleton, peacefully waiting 'til judgment day. However, when she tore it out, her fingers clasped around what cursory examination revealed to be plastic bones and decorative fibreglass webs, and an odd, cathartic laugh escaped her lips. That... Explained a lot, and thankfully ruled out Jonas being a serial killer. It also made Serena feel less bad when, so as to make the hiding place less obvious, she threw the bones behind the casket, out of view. With a deep breath, she lifted Anabel from the floor and put her in, the laughter fading, and a distinct feeling of wrongness coming over her as she replaced the casket lid, leaving it open, just a crack, for air. Anabel wasn't dead - she'd said it herself, and Serena took a deep breath. She was going to make sure of that.

Although... Serena took a deep breath as she gazed around the burial chamber. How would she do that? How was she going to do that? her eyes darted from place to place, trying to find a spot from which to spring an ambush; surprise being the only advantage she still had. The casket plan had been mentally crossed off for the idiot idea it was, and Serena found herself swearing wildly under her breath as her eyes settled on nothing. Whoever had designed this stupid cellar hadn't been accommodating to those who would be, in the future, fighting for their lives and needed somewhere to spring from.

No pillars, no dense shadows, no secret doors in the rough stone-brick walls, the stones creating an odd, almost organic construction with the mortar, some parts sticking out, reminding her of a climbing wall from one of those activity centres she'd been dragged to as a girl... Her eyes sparked with a sudden revelation, as her gaze tracked the wall, the stone bricks, mortar, the wooden supports, going up to the vaulted, rafter-reinforced ceiling, and an idea came over her. At ground level, there was nothing, but further up... Serena threw herself into action, leaping onto the stones and pulling herself up, bare hands grasping the beams, riding boots finding a foothold on the masonry. Up. The only way to go was up, and Serena rapidly ascended the chamber like a jumping spider madly escaping a flood.

It reminded her a bit of her childhood. Her old girlhood friend used to make a game out of climbing the mechanical air purifiers that lined the boulevards, and she'd gotten pretty damn good at it, too. Serena was never any good at it... Serena took in a deep breath of air as she pulled herself higher, feeling her muscles groan and ache at the task, but, blood in her veins again, they obeyed, and pulled her up, further into the rafters. Young Serena had the constitution to be expected of a computer-obsessed shut-in, but... She allowed herself a small, sardonic laugh feeling a bit dizzy as she ascended into the curved vault, now feeling like she was climbing a cliff overhang. Nearly dying had made her a changed person, in many ways.

Finally, she paused, as high as she could get, clinging to the structure, wedging herself securely in, leaving a hand free to reach into her coat as she debated - knife, or handgun? The sound of Corto's boots ringing in her ears, getting even closer, meant she needed to think fast. One free hand meant she could only use one - unless she wanted to try hanging from her feet, like a bat... Or, more realistically, falling and killing herself on the hardwood floor.

It was a tough decision to make. The handgun would have probably been her choice if Corto had been a normal human, but, back in the hotel, she'd dumped nearly an entire magazine into his back, and it was like shooting him with BBs, plus... Serena groaned, as she pulled her hand away from the holster. She didn't like to admit it, but, even at close range, she still wasn't completely confident she could hit him firing one handed and while clinging to the ceiling, and she'd be an easy target for his machine gun up here. Serena took a deep breath, and drew the large butterfly knife from her coat. It would have to be the blade, then. She flicked it open with a one-handed gesture, a satisfied smile crawling into her face, and she was never quite so proud of having learned how to do that until now. Who would have thought it'd be so vital to her survival, apart from just looking cool?... Her expression turned heavy-lidded when she realized it wouldn't have been necessary at all if she had a fixed-blade combat knife, but-! Serena shook her head. No, she couldn't afford to get distracted now.

Knife in hand, the point facing downwards into the chamber, Serena's heart began to pick up in pitch, as the sound of boots began to slow down to what sounded like walking pace, and then stopped, as she could see, in the darkness, a hateful titan of metal and flesh in a black trenchcoat, brandishing a heavy weapon, an expression of hatred and rage carved on his face. "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!" Corto barked, with the roughness and contempt of a slave catcher, as he looked down, examining the trail of blood that terminated here, and Serena breathed as quietly as she could, plotting her angle of attack. That was a sticking point - she'd need to jump down and stab somewhere fleshy. His neck? His head? Maybe she could jump down and quickly slit his throat, but either way, she'd need to leap from the rafters and strike and try not to break both legs in the process - and if she did, she may as well take Corto's advice and slit her own throat.

"So... Trying to hide, huh?!" Corto swaggered around the room, as, overhead, Serena adjusted her position, trying to find the optimal spot to drop onto her foe. Without dying, ideally. "I ought to have expected this from a little bitch like you, Serena, but it doesn't matter..." Corto let loose another vicious laugh that echoed through the burial chamber. "Cause I'll find you. I'll hunt you down like the motherless dog you are, and I'll make you suffer..." Serena took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. It was like Vic, she mused. She couldn't let him get to her. She already felt like a paratrooper getting ready to drop, as she began to disentangle herself from the rafters, ready to strike. "And I think I'll avenge myself on that little girl, too." He said, and she momentarily paused, eyes wide in shock - and fear, that rapidly turned to anger as Corto continued with, "I'll stick you to the ground with my knife and let you watch while I-"

He didn't get to finish. Serena found her vision flash red, fire and fury taking over, and the next thing she knew, she was off the rafters, thundering down like a bomb falling from a plane's open bay, and Corto's mocking, malignant taunts were replaced with a howling scream of fury and pain as Serena landed right on his back, burying the blade right up to the hilt in the scruff of Corto's neck, spraying blood and motor oil everywhere, on her face, on the floor, the force of the impact knocking him to the floor, with a loud clang that rang through the whole hall. Serena pressed her advantage and managed to get in two more vicious stabs with her blade, biting right through armour plating and spraying yet more vital fluid, before Corto, roaring like a feral beast, leveraged his mechanical body's strength to throw her off and send Serena clattering to the floor, knife slick with blood and oil, still held tightly in her hand.

"I'LL FLAY YOU ALIVE!" Corto screamed in berserk fury as he pulled himself to hit feet, and with a mad, vicious smile, drew his own fixed-blade combat knife from a built-in sheath in his armour, and threw himself into melee combat, ignoring the heavy machine gun that'd been pinned under him when Serena landed, and, trapped between the hammer and the anvil, was now embedded in the floor. The wicked edge of the full-tang blade glimmered faintly in the gloom as he charged towards his foe, fulled by hatred, resentment, and revenge.

Serena had managed to quickly get back onto two feet as well, and was back up and in the fight in just the nick of time to jump backwards and avoid Corto's vicious swing, the blade of his knife barely missing her shoulder, and, hopped up on blind fury, he took another swing at her and Serena avoided the second blow, and, countering his movement and rhythm, thrust her blade forwards, dodging his arm and tearing a chunk out of Corto's chest. Whatever master smith had forged the blade was clearly smiling, as the steel went right through his dermal plating and spilled forth yet more blood and oil, dripping out onto the hardwood below.

"I... I HATE mercenary scum like you!" Serena flashed a fey, vicious grin, as she pulled the knife out, drawing with it a spray of gore and oil onto her boots. "You think you're all so tough and so high and mighty and above it all!" Corto's expression twisted and writhed with anger, as he pressed the attack, trying to reverse the momentum. He swung viciously with his blade, but failed to do more than cut a small lock of her hair, Serena having quickly avoided his blow. "You kill people for money! How the hell do you act so vain, doing that!?" Serena yelled, her own temper flaring up. "You got hired to kill me - and Anabel's father too, didn't you?!" She pressed the assault, with righteous and judgmental fury, but this time, only managed to make a slash in his trenchcoat, but nevertheless continued yelling, "You're just a bunch of jumped up gangsters!..." She flashed a vicious smile. "Less than gangsters! They have SOME standards! You're just a pack of rabid dogs!"

"YOU'RE NOTHING!" Corto's countenance once more flashed into wild, vicious anger, and he threw himself into an all-out assault, slashing wildly with his knife, but giving no quarter, and, though Serena managed to dodge his blade, she couldn't quite avoid the brutal punch to her stomach with his free hand - or the backswing of his knife. "Don't get high and mighty with me, you little hypocrite!" Eyes wide, still reeling, Serena managed to just barely twist herself out of the way - but not quite as well as she'd hoped, and Corto managed to badly score her arm, a flash of agony going up to her shoulder, an awful, tearing sensation where steel met flesh, and Serena screamed out in pain, and Corto let out a wild, murderous laugh. "Suits like you have no right to be giving US shit for taking jobs - especially when I fucking EARN it. I don't just stumble into a paycheque, like you! All this time, Serena, you've been cruising on by, getting lucky, but you're luck's run out!"

"There's nothing!-" Serena slashed in with her own counterattack, cutting into Corto's arm, the shock going up her shoulder as the blade tore through flesh and steel and even a fragment of bone. "Lucky about it!"

"Oh, you can't see it?!" Corto taunted, bashing her with a vicious blow from his free hand, right into her shoulder, throwing her backwards and nearly making her drop her weapon. "In the hotel. In our hideout. Even here, you've had the damn deck stacked for you!" Reeling, she managed to dodge Corto's knife again - but it was a close thing, and he'd torn a button from her coat. "But it's over now!" Corto roared, catching the momentum of her dodge and sweeping her right off her feet with a wide swing of his cybernetic leg, throwing her down to the floor.

Wasting no time, Corto pounced right onto her, knife outstretched, and Serena tried to roll herself out of the way, but to her horror, Corto had been quicker, and launched downward wit his knife, grabbing her right hand with his left and sticking his blade right into her left shoulder, through her jacket, sweater, shirt, skin, flesh, tearing into her bone, and Serena screamed out in agony as the tearing, shredding sensation set her soul alight, and Corto leered over her, with a smile that could curdle milk, and he twisted the knife, and she screamed even harder, the grinding agony only doubling, and her tormented screaming echoed through the whole basement.

"Its just you, and me, Serena." Corto he taunted, leaning in as closely as he could. Serena could feel his breath, smell his scent - sweat and machine oil - and struggled to throw him off, to no avail; her nanite enhanced blood met its match, and she could barely even move his cybernetic mass an inch. "And nobody's here to save you this time..." His shades slipped off as he leered over her, and Serena shivered as she looked into his wide eyes, and narrow, shaky pupils, and she screamed out - partly because Corto twisted the knife again, but partly because she knew, in her soul, what she was looking at. Corto leaned in even further, in some mockery of a lovers' embrace, and Serena shivered. It was like staring into the proverbial abyss. She was looking into a soul that was completely hollowed out. Gazing into soulless, burning eyes of someone who absolutely, completely, hated her.

Despite the agony, she could think clearly. She felt deathly cold. Her stomach was sick, and her heart was pounding in her chest, because she knew he fully intended to, and would, inflict on her all the rape, dismemberment, and torture he'd promised, and Serena screamed out in terror and agony and fury and, in desperation, tried to kick him off with both her riding boots, and, lacking other options, instinctively spat into his eye, with all the vitriol she could muster. Her feet only found marginal success in throwing him off, but, Corto having drawn in way closer than Serena found comfortable, her glob of spit hit true and he flinched and it was the brief lapse she needed to save herself. Corto's grip on her knife hand lessened for a moment and she viciously carved a red gash across Corto's cheek, and Serena felt a momentary feeling of vindictive, repressed joy at hearing her would-be killer swear and shout in agony.

Pushing her advantage, Serena kicked him again, finding more success and managing to throw Corto off - though, he partially did it himself, needing to dodge the wild slashing of Serena's blade. He tore the knife free from her shoulder as he withdrew, with a wet, gnashing sound, and another white-hot flash of horrifying agony coursed her entire body as the blade left. Her vision going double for a moment and the pain hitting her like a sackful of computer mice. She nearly blacked out, then and there, but the sight of Corto, already back on his feet, clutching his face, one eye exposed, glaring at her with murderous rage, put enough fear and adrenaline back into her veins to throw her into action. Serena desperately scrambled to her feet as she wildly swung with her knife, a profuse stream of red coming from her shoulder that, gradually slowed to a trickle, and, feeling that medicinal, unnatural stitching feeling already flaring up in the wound, Serena charged towards Corto with a furious, desperate look, like a cornered, rabid animal.

Corto adjusted his footing and jumped out of the way of Serena's wild slash, with more agility than she'd have thought his cybernetics would allow. She pressed on, slashing into him, carving deep into his arm and spraying yet more viscera onto the floorboards, but Corto was far from idle, and swiftly countered with another brutal swing with his knife that Serena had been, despite her efforts, just a bit too slow to dodge, and her face twisted in pain as she felt the cold steel cut into her arm. "What's the matter?!" Corto taunted, following it up with another wide swing, Serena dodging back, giving ground, and unable to find a weakness in his footing. "Getting tired out, already?!" He pounced forwards again, Serena barely managing to dodge around the mortuary slab, his blade shearing another chunk of leather from her coat. "I'd say it's gonna be over soon - but I'd be lying! This is gonna be the longest - and last - night of your life, Serena!"

His wild laughter filled the mortuary chamber, and, as Serena dodged another brutal slash of his blade, a nervous feeling began to emerge, like a glass spider crawling up her spine. Part of it was the pain, the bite of steel still burning in her arm as the nanites began knitting it up. Most of it was because, much as she didn't want to admit it, Corto was more observant than she gave him credit for. She sucked in a deep breath of air, and, managing to catch the momentum from a dodged blow, swept in and sinking her steel right in his side, carving out yet more viscera. He was right on the money - she was starting to slow down, and could feel it...

She had to dodge another slash from Corto's blade, jumping back, closer to the ring of caskets that lined the walls, and a rivulet of nervous sweat ran down her face. She was slowing down. She didn't want to think of it, but Corto's comment had forced her mind. She'd taken some bad hits from Corto's blade, but, thanks to her nanite-infused blood, she'd been able to keep going - for a price. The nanites needed to drink more of her blood to do their miracle work, and, to her horror, Serena realized she was beginning to feel a bit faint. Serena sucked in another deep breath of air, and jumped out of the way of Corto's blade, away from the caskets, and had swung out with a blow of her own, but didn't quite hit home, and Corto lashed out again, and she jumped back once more, leading Corto around the mortuary slab, the two of them dancing around it in a grisly ballet.

Serena had been very careful when sinking her fangs into Anabel's neck. She drank only what she'd needed - and not a drop more of Anabel's life. An expression of frustration and fear and grinding pain crossed her face, as Corto came in quicker than she could avoid and scored a nasty hit to her side, provoking another howl of pain, but her eyes wide with a horror of a different sort. Had she not drank... She shuddered. Enough? Serena screamed out in pain and desperation and adrenaline, and lunged forwards to counterattack, thrusting her knife into Corto's chest, and tearing it free, spilling out more flesh and steel out onto the a floor that was beginning to resemble macabre, abstract art. "You're not so fast, either!" She taunted, trying to crack a smile, fading just as quickly when Corto shot her a malicious, hateful grin in reply.

"I can outlast you!" Corto roared, charging forward with his own counter, and coming close to giving Serena a scar on her face that would make her look rugged - if she weren't a lady. "You aren't normal, Serena. I don't know what you are, but whatever it is!" He punctuated the point with a brutal swing of his knife and a vicious blow with his hand that caught her off guard, striking Serena right in the stomach and nearly knocking the wind out of her. "I'm tougher than you are! I've been in this work for years, and you're seeing what I've got to show for it!" He erupted a fit of mocking, ribald laughter, swinging his knife and nearly carving another chunk of flesh from Serena's shoulder. "Top of the line combat augs. Real special forces shot. I reinvested every penny I earned into myself. People always asked me - to what end?" He let out another burst of laughter. "Now you've finally given me a good answer! I did this all for revenge!"

He briefly paused, expression shifting from mocking to hellishly angry, drilling into Serena's soul with a look of undying hatred, and she broke out into a cold sweat. "Revenge. That's the point of it all. You thought you could get away with killing the crew it took me so long to assemble and build up as a team?! I made this company with my own blood, sweat and tears, and for all you've done to me..." He let out another mocking, hellish laugh. "I keep saying it - but I mean it, Serena. I'm gonna make you suffer." Corto roared in fury and threw himself back into the action, lashing out with his combat knife, Serena's mind needing to shift back to defending herself, and a feeling of panic erupted inside of her as she realized two things.

One. She had no idea how to win. A reluctant realization, but one that, when she accepted, made her feel cold, leaden, and very, very scared. Even as she madly fought, dodging Corto's vicious onslaught and scoring a few hits of her own that did little to reassure her. Serena was coming to the uncomfortable conclusion that Corto had been right again. They were both cybernetically enhanced, but this was an endurance match, and Corto could trade blows longer than she could. He would simply grind her down, and that was it... Serena took in a deep breath, a cold, clammy feeling hanging in her psyche, feeling the reaper's icy hand resting on her shoulder.

Two... Her heart rate picked up in pitch as she dodged another swing. It was coming back. Slowly. Subtly. She could feel the dark, yearning hunger in her psyche flare back up. The nanites that kept her up and running were using much of her blood to both stitch her wounds back up and keep her in the fight to begin with, and she was starting to feel it. That awful, soul-rending gnawing was beginning to creep up on her, as was the faint, fatigued feeling. The slight blurriness on the edge of her vision. The very problem she thought she'd fixed by drinking from Anabel, to her horror, was creeping back up on her, and she had no idea how to deal with it.

She breathed deeply, in, and out, in, and out, and managed to score another hit on Corto, but felt nothing from it. They were just trading blows, and soon, Serena realized, she'd run out of steam and that was it. She began to hyperventilate, breathing quicker and lashing out, as the excessively painful death Corto promised her was warring with her thirst for blood for mental real-estate. No... No... She gritted her teeth, and jumped back, avoiding another blow in the nick of time. Focus... She took a deep breath of the musty, iron-scented air, and licked her lips... Blood... Serena swore, and dodged another wild swing. Blood later. Live now, she told herself. She needed to come up with something, but... How?

Serena felt the panic, the hopelessness, that feeling of overwhelming dread and despair wash over her as Corto threw himself forward with a series of vicious blows, peppered with violent profanity and threats of rape and torture. His blade was sending Serena back, towards the edge of the chamber, the caskets lining the walls, and the passageway outside. She needed to think of something, but-! She barely dodged another slash of Corto's blade, and struck back with her own, but Corto had managed to avoid it, with a vicious laugh, and her eyes caught the mess they'd made, blood soaking into the wood grain, and the gnawing, bleak hunger in her soul intensified. She could smell it. She could practically taste it! She... Needed it, badly!

Blood... It was such an awful time for it to kick back in. Serena couldn't concentrate. It was starting to claw away at her consciousness. With each wound Corto inflicted, it got worse. She needed blood. A distant, hazy, predatory look was coming in her eyes, glaring daggers into her enemy - out of hunger, rather than revenge. The rest of her, though, looked panicky, nervous, and desperate. She needed blood - but she needed a way to win. Did those things need to be mutually exclusive, though? The idea crept into her mind, as though whispered by the soft voice of an angel in her ear... Or, possibly the soft voice of a devil, but regardless... Serena threw herself out of the way of another vicious slash, her eyes darting around the chamber, from the little dots of red on the floor where she'd came in. Corto may have been chromed up to the nines, but underneath the metal and malice, he was a human being - without going into metaphorical territory, obviously.

"What are you smiling at, bitch?!" Corto yelled, and took another wild swing; that was the first Serena even realized she'd been doing so. Despite the malice and evil in his heart, Corto was human - and that meant he bled... Serena found her fangs buzzing, the gnawing hunger flaring up in her mind, and her tongue licking her lips. Corto, as it turned out, could sustain her, if she could sink his fangs into his creamy-coffee coloured flesh, and drink deeply, and steal out of the bastard who'd tried to kill her friends, and would rape, torture, and murder her if she relented. A hungry look came in Serena's eyes, wanting nothing more than to drink all the life out of him...

Another swing of Corto's blade brought her back to reality. Corto might've bled, but he was still trying to kill her. If she wanted to drink him, she'd need to subdue him first. Easier said than done. Corto lashed out at her again, and Serena jumped back, dodged and weaved, and ducked out of the way of each blow - except the last, which grazed her cheek, and she flinched, landing in the passageway, clutching the cut with her free hand, feeling the ooze of blood leak between her fingers, and breathed in, deeply. The difficulty lay in subduing him, but once she got her fangs in - game over.

Serena flashed a bold smile, only infuriating Corto further as he pushed her out into the hall with his attacks. At the back of her mind, it felt subtly wrong. Unnatural. Yet Serena found little sympathy, as Corto bore down on her with his blade. She'd desperately tried to avoid subjecting her friends to it - but she had to admit, she was getting in the habit of using her blood as a weapon against her enemies. The seeker of forbidden knowledge, Thoth and the "gentleman thief," Euler, had both been rendered pliable by Serena sinking in her fangs and drinking of their life. She hadn't ever gone quite so far as to take it to the logical conclusion by refusing to pull her fangs out, but...

She dodged another of Corto's vicious blows, jumping backwards, eyes going wide, and Corto smiling like a shark that'd just cornered a bleeding, minnow, as they both realized it. Out here, in the corridor, Serena had little room to dodge - and with how massive and imposing Corto was, towering over her; and she was not a short girl, there was little chance of being able to run past him, either. Serena took a deep breath, mind shifting like the gears in a car, found an impulse come over her and acted on it and turned and sped off, down the passageway, as fast as her legs could take her, with Corto laughing maniacally behind her.

"We're back to this, huh?!" He taunted, while Serena swore to herself. "Run, run run." She breathed in, and out, deeply, greedily, hungrily. "You can rung as looooooong as you want, Serena." Her coattails trailed behind her. Knife firmly in hand. Her gunbelt rocking faintly on her hips, its weight reassuring her, and her eyes went wide, a desperate, weary smile coming to her face. "Didn't I already tell you?!" Corto's tone bled with viciousness and spite, as Serena opened up her holster, and drew her handgun, flipping the safety to 'off,' a nervous grin on her face, as the idea came to her. "I can go as long as you like. I can chase you to the goddamn ends of the Earth..."

Serena the handgun up to her eyes, staring at it like the holy grail. It might be her lifeline. She'd avoided drawing it so far, since, in the chaos of close combat, a second to draw and fire might've been a second she couldn't afford to lose. Right now, though... "But maybe I don't need to go that far, Serena..." She felt a chill go down her spine, and tried to ignore it and focus. She had a firearm and he didn't and it might be the thing she needed to disable him and go in for the kill. "Maybe I don't need to chase you, though." Corto interrupted her train of thought, with a voice that felt like pulling the legs off spiders. Like torturing small animals, and it made her whole body shiver. Ignore him, she told herself. He's trying to make you lose focus. He knows you can outrun him. Just focus on blowing his legs-

"Maybe I can get you to come to me, Serena. What happened to that girl you were carrying?" Her widened. Her brain screamed at her, 'don't stop!' but Serena found herself beginning to slow. "Did you leave her behind, Serena?" She opened her mouth, but stopped the scream. He's bluffing, she told herself. He doesn't know - he couldn't. He's guessing. "Maybe I should go back for where you left her, and..." Corto let out a fit of guttural, demonic laughter. "Practice on her. Warm myself up. Get the juices flowing - think she'll enjoy it, Serena?!-" At that point, her rational mind disconnected from the rest of her, for an instant, just long enough, and Serena snapped, exploding with rage and fury at the thought of Corto slaking his disgusting, demonic lust made her see red, and, without thinking, violence and vengeance and the urge to punish and purify burning her from the inside, Serena halted and turned with an expression of white-hot anger-

That faded as quickly as it came, leaking out of her like a water tank shot full of holes as Corto sprinted towards her, knife in hand and a dastardly vicious smile on his face. Mocking laughter rang in her ears, and a fearful, self-loathing feeling in her soul because Serena realized - she'd been had. She already knew he'd been trying to piss her off. Break her concentration. Get her to make a bad decision and it worked. Serena had a momentary lapse in judgment as her temper flared up and Corto's gambit worked and now her feet felt leaden underneath her and a cybernetically enhanced killer was bounding towards her, knife in hand and a murderous, self-satisfied grin.

Serena screamed and jumped backwards and jerked the trigger, hastily firing from the hip. Her original plan was to blow Corto's legs out from under him and go for the kill but she panicked and didn't bother to aim and just dumped the magazine, the roar of the weapon in her ears, recoil shooting up her arms, shell casings bouncing off the hardwood, and the muzzle flash lighting up the basement corridor, as round after round of copper jacketed 10mm bullets crashed into her foe. At the range they were fighting, with nowhere to dodge, Corto took the brunt of her attack, and some of the rounds bounced off his armour, but a few hit home, finding weaknesses in Corto's cybernetics and burying themselves in his legs and abdomen, and the weapon went click, and Serena's eyes went wide-

"GOTCHA." Corto's voice dripped with vindictive satisfaction. Serena heard the blade slide into her abdomen before she felt it. A wet, splattering sound as the steel tore into her, right through her sweater and shirt, and skin and flesh, all the way up to her viscera, buried up to the hilt. She felt it a moment later - that horrifying, grinding, wracking agony flashing through her whole nervous system, and she screamed out in pain as Corto twisted the knife, as he'd done with her shoulder, the sounds of her agony threatening to wake the plastic dead and sour the wine, as more of her nanite-infused blood leaked out onto the floorboards, as Corto leaned in, holding her head to look at him with his other hand, the two of them almost close enough to kiss, and a vicious, mocking laugh escaped his mouth. "And now, it's time for a little fun-"

It all happened in a blur. In a desperate rage, Serena, with her off-hand, brought her knife flying up, a wild slash from the darkness that went past Corto's hand and before he could react and defend himself, the blade cut right through his glasses and Serena stuck the point right in his eye, and Corto's furious howls of pain joined hers in an agonizing duet. Serena, fighting the agony and fatigue (and irritation, at this being the second murderous freak who'd tried this) tapped into that grim, dark hunger that was writhing and twisted inside her and pounced on her assailant, viciously pummelling him over the head with her handgun and tearing the knife out of his ruined eye socket as he tore his own blade from her, both wounds spilling vital fluid everywhere, as she fell into him, knocking them both to the floor in a violent parody of a lovers' embrace.

Her blow definitely hadn't killed him, from the way Corto madly struggled and writhed underneath her, punching her, trying to throw her off, screaming, cursing to no avail. He fought bitterly to escaped Serena's grasp, as her temper flared up, and leveraging her position ontop of him, stabbing any exposed flesh she could find and repeatedly slamming the handgrip of her pistol into skull (reinforced, judging by the 'clang' it made) as, all the while, Corto was thrashing and and wildly slugging her, desperate to throw the vampire off him - and, to her horror, beginning to make headway. Her mind was panicking, as she could feel her advantage steadily erode, beginning to give ground, uncomfortably contemplating how long she could stay on for, before Corto threw her off. It felt like one of those bucking bronco machines from the armed forces fair, and, like climbing air purifiers, Serena had been very bad at it. A decade and a brush with terminal illness later, she was more physically capable - but the bucking bronco never punched you in it's bid to throw you off.

With each blow she took, she could feel her grip weakening, her body that much closer to falling off, and she was starting to panic, and the gnawing hunger was becoming overpowering, and impossible to ignore. Her knife and handgun were covered in viscera, but despite the sorry state of Corto's head and neck, it felt like fighting a machine; he hadn't slowed down even a bit. In fact, he seemed to be picking up in pitch, growing more furious and bullish, while all the battering and blood loss was making her weaker. Tired. Faint, her strength beginning to fail and her vision beginning to blur and the gnawing hunger threatening to overtake her mind, and Serena realized, once more, Corto was right. He COULD outlast her, and if she didn't end this now, then she was done for.

Subduing him may be off the charts, she realized, but - as she narrowly avoided being cracked in the head with a mechanical fist that, if it connected, would have knocked her out cold - right now, she was in the best - and only - position to pounce and close in for the kill. She was ontop of him. She'd already stabbed and clubbed him down onto the floor, leaking more and more blood onto the floorboards, all of that blood going to waste, and in a wild frenzy, with her last reserves of strength, Serena threw all she had into a final gambit, throwing her gore-caked handgun to the floor and plunging her knife, up to the hilt, in Corto's shoulder, able to use both her hands to hold her foe down and close in on his exposed neck, mouth open, fangs twitching with anticipation. If Corto had seen it coming, if he'd known what she intended, he might've been able to throw her off. As it was, he'd only seen Serena's fangs for a moment, and his one good eye widened and a "What the fu-" escaped his lips as Serena bore down on him and sank her teeth into Corto's mangled neck, drinking deeply, holding him tightly.

It wasn't a clean kill. Corto roared, in fear and rage as he desperately tried to throw Serena off, but she'd gotten a tight grip, and more vigour flowed into her limbs and her grip strengthened, Corto's one good eye looked deathly afraid as he realized what she was doing to him. "BRUJAH!" He yelled out. "OFF! DAMN YOU! POR JESÙS! FOUL DEMON! AAAAARGH!" He thrashed, but Serena's crushing grip intensified as she felt the warm, sticky, living, pulsing feeling of blood and adrenaline and terror flow into her veins. As she drank deeper, an intoxicating rush of euphoria flowed over her, and she held him as tightly as she would a lover. Serena's injuries knitted themselves back together, and the fatigue left her body as she savoured his life's blood.

Corto's struggle and torrent of profanity began to subside, giving way to soft, orgasmic moaning. His motions went from thrashing, to twitching, to soft and limp in her grasp like wet clay in Serena's arms, and she drank deeper, some of it spilling out onto his clothes and their skin, as, in her grasp, Corto's breathing began to slow, and she continued to drink. She could feel his heart beating harshly, but slowing, and she continued to drink. Slowing. Thump. Thump. Thump... Thump...

Thump...

When Serena came to her senses, she couldn't tell how long it'd been. She pulled her fangs from cold flesh, a sensation not entirely unlike withdrawing from a crumpled up sachet of blood. She opened her eyes, saw the stiff, cyborg in her arms, with a dreamy look in his remaining good eye and a massive, euphoric, stoned smile on his face, and she flinched, releasing the corpse from her arms and letting it fall to the blood-soaked hardwood with an audible CLANG. Slowly, she pulled herself off the corpse she'd created, breathing deeply, the stink of blood rich in her nose and much less compelling than it'd been before. Now, it just smelled disgusting. Her heart was drilling a hole in her chest and she needed to sit down, against the wall, and catch her breath - and do her best to avoid looking at Corto.

It took a while to compose herself. She spent most of that time staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought about nothing in particular. She dug through her pockets for two very important items; a busted up packet of cigarettes (but thankfully, this time, not soaked in blood) and a cheap lighter. It took a small beating, but the ingeniously crafted French device dutifully flickered its warm, orange flame, a beacon in the crushing darkness beneath Schwarzwalder Manor, lighting the end of the black cigarette that hung from Serena's mouth. Partially to cool down, partially to burn the taste of blood out of her mouth and conceal the stink of it from her nose.

Eventually, Serena found herself in a mental state where she could stand a glance at her victim, an uneasy realization as how thin the line was, that she'd nearly been his victim. Serena looked away just as quickly, deciding she didn't like what she saw. It wasn't the killing itself - she was hardly a pure maiden in that area, and he'd fully intended to kill her. And torture her. And rape her. And dismember her. And... Serena looked away and took another drag off her cigarette. She wasn't hung up on Corto. He was a merc. He ought to know killing people for money was risky business.

She chanced another look at his body, with a sour, admonishing expression. He'd been so hung up on his friends getting killed... Well, she supposed, reflecting on it, she would be too - but her friends weren't killers for hire. She groaned, and rolled her eyes, and looked away. Corto had called her a hypocrite. Being a company commando, there was truth to it - but for one, the choice wasn't hers to make, but she accepted it and the risks of dying, and signed all that paperwork in Mr Van Steyr's office, all the same. For two... She extended a boot into Corto, prodding the limp, metal leg. When she killed someone, she had a damn good reason. Right now, it was protecting those she cared about - but self-defence was a damn good reason, regardless of the circumstance, she felt.

What WAS giving her a hangup, though... Her eyes drifted to Corto's smile, and flinched, and looked away, a chill going up her spine. It was the... Unnatural wrongness of the way she'd done it. That zonked-out smile on his face that he'd died with made her feel agitated. "Demon..." She repeated aloud. What Corto had called her with his dying breath. Serena took another uncomfortable drag off her cigarette. She wondered if he had a point. It felt disturbing to know she was capable of that. If she did find herself infront of the Pearly Gates, then it was the sort of thing she'd have a hard time explaining to Saint Peter, or whoever it was up there. She chanced another look, and a shiver ran up her spine. It looked like she'd pumped him with a lethal dose of Ambrosia, or some other narcotic, and waited for the poison to choke the life out of him while titillating his brain.

She took another puff. Evil. That's what the voice in her head was saying. She was an evil, monstrous demon. Her expression turned cross, and she went from prodding him with her boot to outright kicking him. At the end of the day, Serena mused, she could wax poetic about being a monster all day, but it was life and fate-worse-than-death. He wanted to do unspeakable things to her. She wanted to survive, and she wanted Anabel to survive. The way she'd killed him was awful. There wasn't any way to skirt around or deny what she'd done, but... Serena took another puff, and dusted off a bit of ash over his corpse, a dry, broody expression on her face. Necessity makes its own moral code, as her dad used to say. He was dead. She and Anabel weren't, and they wouldn't have to discover the depths of Corto's infernal depravity. That was the end of that.

Of course, with the danger now behind her and the process of getting Anabel off the mainframe and making her a real girl complete, the lingering question came back to her mind. One that, now that Corto was dead, died with him. Who'd hired them to begin with? It became a vendetta, but didn't start that way. For that matter... Serena's eyes went to the ceiling, as she took another drag off her cigarette? Who killed Jonas and Anabel - the girl?... Corto, obviously. Her eyes lidded as they went back to his mangled body - avoiding his smiling face. She was reasonably confident they were the culprits. The anti-tank autocannon they'd found seemed to be the proverbially smoking, literal gun. It lined up with Petrov's story and the news report on the assassination as well.

That wasn't the whole story, Serena knew. Corto was a merc - a HIRED gun by the very definition. They weren't the masterminds behind all of this. Corto had definitely proven he wasn't above making things personal, but unless Jonas had offended him in some way she didn't know, the trail went cold there. Who'd organized the deaths of Jonas and his daughter?... Serena's expression turned weary as she took another drag off her cigarette. They were back to the list of everyone Jonas had ever pissed off, who could afford a couple thousand pounds to pay the mercs' bill.

It had all seemed so reassuringly simple, a few days ago, in a beery haze and coming down from the party atmosphere. Exorcise a rogue AI from a corporate mainframe. The the rogue AI was stronger than they'd expected, and then that had turned into solving a murder, and then the mercs got involved, and then Anabel started to think long and hard about herself... Her eyes focused on the orange glow at the end of her nightstick. Anabel - the ghost, now in a human shell - probably knew, Serena mused. 'Blackmail' was what Corto had called the stolen data - it wasn't a word thrown around lightly. They were willing to kill her over it. Now that Anabel was back in the real world, Serena mused, she ought to-

A loud, weary yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawn escaped Serena's mouth, and, adrenaline wearing off, she began to realize where she was. Physically, she was in a grimy aristocrat's basement, covered in blood, her clothes ruined, with a cloying taste of blood in her mouth she was trying to burn out. Mentally, she was tired and weary and had a head full of questions with no answer, but... She took a deep breath, and one last drag off her cigarette, extinguishing it on Corto's leg and sticking it behind her ear for later. They were done. Anabel was in a human body, the mercs were dead, and Hollace could do whatever he wished with the mainframe. All the unanswered questions bouncing around her head, Serena mused, could wait. Right now, she felt like she needed a good night's sleep.

With great caution, Serena moved the stone cover off the casket she'd hidden Anabel in, right before she'd sprung the ambush that led to her and Corto's final showdown. She shivered at the memory - it'd been a closer fight than she was comfortable with. If Corto had gotten her a few more times with his knife, Serena mused, she might not have had enough strength to hold him down while she went in for the kill.

The uneasy feeling vanished like grave mist in the morning sun as she saw the gentle, sleeping expression on Anabel's face. Serena took a deep sigh of relief, and found a tender smile coming to her face. She was fine - sleeping peacefully in the stone casket, chest rising up and down with her breaths and away from the world of its troubles. It fit, Serena mused. The Ecstasy Battalion, the murderer's (probable) catspaws, were dead. The long night was over, all that was left was sorting out a few loose ends... Serena let out another loud, weary yawn. That, and sleep. In a proper place, that is to say. Restful as Anabel looked, Serena had an inkling she'd prefer to wake up in a warm, fluffy bed rather than a cold, dank casket, and... Serena laughed a bit. Admittedly, she also wanted to go to sleep in a warm, fluffy bed. With both hands, she reached in and heaved a bit, reminded, again, that Anabel was a 14-year old girl and beyond the age where most people could comfortably give her 'upsies.'

Retracing her steps, back through the dank catacombs was uneventful. Serena had been worried for a moment about being lost - and then, her eyes lidded as noticed, staining the floorboards, a trail of blood droplets, like a dusting of rubies, leading back through the halls. She gave a cathartic, relieved sigh. It'd allowed Corto to track her down, but now the trail of blood she'd left really WAS like a trail of breadcrumbs, and would lead her back up to the manor, like Theseus winding up the ball of yarn. Serena had blanked out a bit, retracing her blood-flecked steps, holding Anabel carefully in her arms, feeling her heartbeat, seeing her chest rise and fall, and barely able to keep her own eyes open, mostly concerned with fluffy pillows and soft linens and warm blankets...

Soon enough, Serena had finished following the trail of blood she left and exited the basement, back through the double doors she'd tackled open in a blind frenzy, and back up the stairs, much more relaxed than how she'd descended. To her (in retrospect) slight shame, she hadn't thought much of her friends, but those thoughts came thundering back to the forefront of her mind like a freight train blasting through a carelessly parked car, as she exited, back into the hallway on the first floor, and saw a familiar outfit - the surgical scrubs belonging to Dr. Elwood, in the hall as well, carefully peeking into the doorway of the mainframe room-stroke-surgical theatre Serena had escaped with Anabel in such a hurry.

"Jules?!" Serena called out, alarmed - and very weary. Though, Jules didn't seem to be anywhere as tired as she was, he managed to snap into a panic, turning to her and screaming out in shock and tripping and falling backwards in a way that, if Serena was Anabel's age - and not tired enough to join him - She'd have found very funny, but as it was, she was suddenly very, very worried.

"Serena?!... Oh..." Jules let out a nervous bout of laughter as he pulled himself off the ground. "Oh, thank God... I thought you were one of... them."

"I think they're all taken care of by now." Serena replied as she approached him. She'd probably have been able to put more cockiness into that if she weren't so tired she could barely stand. "What are you doing here, though?" She sounded worried. "Weren't you hiding from the mercs?"

"I... Well..." Jules looked a bit awkward and guilty. "I found a hiding spot on the second floor and waited. After a while, the gunfire stopped, and I waited some more, and more, and, well..." He cleared his throat, a rather boyish smile coming over him. "I... Started to wonder what had happened and if, well, Gabriel and you and everyone else were alive, and-?"

"Well, Anabel and I are." She took a deep breath. "It was a close thing - did you find Gabriel and Lisa?" She asked, going right to the point and not even finding the strength to admonish him.

"Well, no, but,..." Jules cleared his throat again. "I did look - and you might want to know that I found two corpses in the dining room..."

"Ours?"

"No, theirs." Jules clarified, and Serena took a deep, relieved sigh. "But..." His face turned worried again. "Well, what are we going to do?!"

Serena was still a too tired to process that. "Do about what?" She said.

"The bodies, Serena!" Jules exclaimed, flashing briefly into a panic again. "I know it was self-defence but if the cops show up it's gonna be like-"

"Oh... Yeah..." Serena took a deep breath that turned into another yawn, and Jules looked on edge at that. "Good point. We should sort that out." Serena yawned again, and leaned down, and propped Anabel up on the wall, letting her sit peacefully on the carpet, still in a deep sleep.

"What are we going to do, then?!" Jules looked confused, while Serena reached into her jeans, produced her cell phone, and stared into the cracked, black screen for a few moments. Then she tapped it. Then she tried the numpad. Then the slide-out keyboard. Then, she groaned, all her actions having failed to rouse the device.

"Calling the clean-up crew, remember?" Serena groaned, and put her cell phone away. An interdepartmental service of the Security Division. One of the perks of being a 'suit' as opposed to a 'merc' was that Serena didn't need to do her own cover-ups. It almost made paying into the Federal Pension Plan worthwhile. "My phone's dead, though - can I use yours?"

With a but of reluctance, Jules unlocked and handed over his own. A newer model, with a silvery case, and Serena punched in a number that she knew so well it took three times to get right. The correct number finally dialing, Serena took a deep breath and instinctively turned away from Jules and left him to piece together a very confusing conversation.

"Yeah, hi Tracey..." Jules raised an eyebrow. The name was familiar - she was the front desk receptionist at The Castle. On the night shift today, apparently. "It's Serena. Yeah, from The Specials..." There was a short pause, and Serena looked embarrassed. "Yeah, my phone died again." She admitted. "No, I like it!" She exclaimed, and Jules tried to suppress a bit of ironic laughter. "I know, but it's fine otherwise! I don't wanna replace it yet." Serena took a deep breath, and cleared her throat. "Anyways, could you put me through to Commander Whitaker's office?" She asked. "Yeah, Information Extirpation." Another short pause. "No, nothing that serious." Serena's tone turned a bit catty, and Jules raised an eyebrow - wondering what qualified as 'serious,' then?

Another pause, while Serena stared off into the distance, half-awake, tapping her boot on the carpet (presumably) in time with the hold music. "Yes, Agent Ramneau." Serena finally spoke up, introducing herself, speaking much more formally now. "Special Asset Protection Squad. I'm in need of a clean up crew at..." She paused, and pulled the cell away from her ears and put her palm over the microphone and turned back over to Jules, still tired - but a bit nervous as well.

"What's the address of this place, anyways?" She asked. "Uh... 24... Something?" She sighed. Lisa probably wrote it down, but, unfortunately, she didn't have Lisa to hand, and Anabel was still asleep, and Jules just shrugged his shoulders, and Serena groaned, and put the cell phone back to her ear. "Schwarzwalder Manor." She said. "In the domes... No, it's not secret. It's just someone's house." She said, and Jules looked at her a bit quizzically - that undersold it, in both of their opinions. "It should be in a public directory. No, we've taken care of the danger." She tapped her boot on the carpet again. "Three... No... Make it five bodies. Just in case." Jules looked a bit alarmed at that. "No, no police yet." Serena's tone turned a bit exasperated - but mostly fatigued. "I think it might be because we're a bit out of the way and rich nobs like their privacy." She rolled her eyes at that.

"Seventeen minutes?" Serena's tone lit up, and a smile came to her face. "Yes, thank you." She took in a deep breath of air. "Yes, actually, please make sure the extirpation crew take lead from Dr. McGarahann." Jules looked a bit confused at that, before he looked around, and caught the sly grin on Serena's face. "Yes, I've left him in charge of operations. Yes, he's been cleared." She groaned. "No, I'll be indisposed for the time being. Yes, thank you, I'll mention that in my report. Thank you." Serena pulled the phone from her ear and hit the red 'hang up' button, took a deep breath, and, the sly smile fading from her face, turned and gave Jules' phone back, and asked, "Can you find Gabriel and let him know he's in charge until I wake up?" She said, and let out another deep yawn, fatigue and weariness returning to her face. "And tell him I'm all good." She added. "He'll know."

"I... Er... Sure?" Jules looked a bit confused and agitated, as he put his cell back in his own pockets and watched Serena lean down, and pick Anabel back up. "What are you going to do with her, though?"

"Put her to bed." Serena let out another yarn. "I... Well, you said she needed bed-rest..." Her tone turned a bit more worried. "I really hope I haven't done anything bad moving her."

"Well..." The question pulled a lever inside Jules' head, he went from a bit antsy to attentive and scholarly as he leaned in, getting a closer look at her, running his eyes over the - rapidly healing - ring of stitches, analyzing her breathing, and stroking his chin, as Serena, reflexively, adjusted her hold on the girl, moving her arm up and concealing Anabel's neck - she'd noticed the twin puncture marks hadn't yet healed. "I'd say she's fine." Jules said, wearing a slightly perplexed look. "I'd need my equipment to confirm it, but she looks to be in good health, and recovering quickly. Like you said, I'm of the opinion that what she needs now is bed rest." Serena allowed herself a relieved sigh, but, even as Jules pulled away, she kept her arm where it was.

"When do you think she'll wake up?" Serena asked, but all Jules could do was shrug his shoulders.

"Who can tell?" He replied. "I said 12 hours minimum - it could be a day, but this is all bleeding edge, so, much as I'd like to, I can't really tell you what to expect."

Serena took a deep breath, and looked down at Anabel, watching the young girl's peaceful, dreamlike expression as she lay in her arms. "Well..." She yawned, once again, finding the warm, inviting claws of sleep becoming that much more onerous. "I just hope she'll be fine, when she wakes up..."

The rest of the night was a hazy, indistinct blur Serena would struggle to remember the following evening. She recalled wandering the manor's winding halls for a while, trying to find somewhere to sleep, clutching Anabel close to her all throughout - and trying to keep her eyes from the two puncture marks. Eventually, her wandering brought her... Somewhere on the second floor. A guest bedroom, somewhere in the maze, with a lovely view of the snow-covered backyard covered up by violet drapes. If she'd been all there, Serena might've noticed how all the furnishings were dusty and disused, but her mind was focused on something more important.

In a trance, Serena closed the door behind her and tucked Anabel to sleep, on the far side of a plush and fluffy looking queen sized bed, drew the covers over her, and set about her own ritual, undressing herself one blood-soaked layer at a time. Black leather jacket, black turtleneck, white T-shirt, dark blue jeans... Right down to her skivvies. A plain white brasserie and matching panties, enough layers deep that they'd been spared the same fate as the rest of her outfit; it would take a very wizardly cleaner's touch to get rid of all that blood. She'd discarded the garments... Somewhere, to collect tomorrow when she'd regained her senses... Though, before she turned in for the night, Serena realized, she still felt a bit uneasy, and dug her handgun and knife from the pile of stained clothes. Just in case.

She had a lot of questions on her mind as she stowed the weapons under the other fluffy pillow - the one Anabel wasn't using. The murder's identity, the mercs' connection, what Anabel knew, if Vic was dead - and if he wasn't, what happened to him? The big one, though, the one big question that sat on her brain like a leaden toad as she nearly jumped into bed, wrapping herself in the fluffy, warm violet covers like a giant caterpillar, was if Anabel was okay? Had the procedure been a success? Had she messed up anything, programming-wise? It would have kept her up at night - in fact, she'd been staring into the ceiling for a bit, but the cozy, warm blankets around her, the fluffy pillow under her head, the mattress, so accommodating underneath her... It all made the problems seem so much more distant. It made everything feel like it was going to be just fine, that it could all wait until tomorrow. Gradually, Serena's eyes began to close, and, before she knew it, she'd fallen into a deep, cozy, sleep...

The world outside her covers flew by, as she rested off the night's events. Soon after she'd fallen into dreams, the clean-up she'd summoned had arrived to begin the in glamorous, but necessary task of destroying all evidence of their battle, and, outside, the artificial blizzard gradually calmed, and stopped entirely. On the replicated sky, the inky darkness of the night was broken by the brilliant golden blaze of dawn, as the false sun emerged over the horizon, turning night to day, lighting up the domes, as businessmen, government officials, entrepreneurs, tycoons, moguls and aristocrats of all stripes were... Sleeping in late. Only the poor ever needed to be up bright and early, after all.

However, even after the day went on and even the sleepy fat cats, as the must, rose from their beds and began their day, Serena and Anabel stayed right where they were, contentedly snoozing away, faces poking up over the mound of blankets, as though locked in torpor by some fey curse. Reality was simpler; after a long night, pushing her body and spirit to their absolute limits, given a moment to doze off, Serena promptly managed to sleep through an entire day. The world turned outside their billet, Anabel gradually healing, and Serena recovering her own strength, as a light snowfall began outside their window, beyond the curtains, and soon enough, the false sun began to drift down to the horizon, painting the whole world inside the domes gold with an intense, sunset glow. Serena would probably have kept sleeping through the night, if it weren't for someone, eventually, rocking and shaking her through the covers and saying, "Come on, sleepyhead, how long are you gonna lie there?"

It took a while for Serena to finally open her eyes - a few minutes of shaking, prodding, and teasing finally made Serena finally stir underneath the covers, her expression going from peaceful to groggy and irritated as consciousness forced itself back onto her, finally waking up. Serena stretched her limbs out under the covers, gave a loud, half-asleep yaaaaawn, and slowly opened her eyes to see the teasing, self-satisfied smile of Gabriel standing over her. He looked slightly scruffy, worse for wear and worse for sleep, but he also had a mug of coffee in his hands - that Serena's red eyes immediately darted to.

"I thought you might want some." Gabriel cracked a smile, and, still half asleep, Serena, wordlessly, took the earthenware mug from his hands. White, with a motif of pine trees painted on it, that she looked at for a moment, before the scent began to rouse her. It was earthy, deep, slightly oily, and reminded Serena of so many hours spent in coffee shops as a student. She took a deep drink, feeling the rich, bold flavour roll over her tongue. Feeling the warmth go down her throat. Real coffee. The sort rich people drink every day. The flavour and warmth and invigorating feeling of it was enough to silence her irritation at being roused, and made Serena a lot more warm and agreeable, the lingering questions from last night sinking back into the recesses of her mind. "Oh, good evening, by the way."

"Evening?" Serena raised an eyebrow,as she lowered the mug from her face. She quickly turned to the window, where, even through the curtains, she could barely see the blazing, orange glow of the sunset gradually turning to night, as the false sun drifted down over the horizon.

"Yeah, it's..." Gabriel raised his wrist to eye level, and read off the monochrome display of his polished steel wristwatch. "Four thirty two... I know it's still technically the afternoon, but the day runs short in winter, so-"

"Wait-!" Serena's eyes went wide, as her gaze went from the window, to the other side of the bed that, last night, in a haze, she'd tucked Anabel into - now, completely empty, and she spilled a bit of coffee on the indigo covers as she leaned in, with a shocked, worried look on her face. "Where's!-"

"Anabel?" Gabriel peered over Serena's shoulder. "Oh! Right, we moved her back to her own room." He explained, and Serena's demeanour flipped onto the confused side of the scale - with a twinge of irritation, that even another drink of good coffee couldn't quite suppress.

"Why?!" She asked, half shocked and half irritated - and more irritated, when Gabriel smiled, and fixed his glasses.

"It was Jules' idea." He explained. "He thought it might be better for Anabel's mental state if she woke up somewhere more familiar."

"I put her here so I could keep an eye on her!-" Serena responded, and then immediately realized the problem with that sentence, her expression turning more disappointed, as Gabriel struggled to suppress a laugh. "Oh..." She took a deep breath, and another drink of coffee. "Okay, I get it..."

"We did try to wake you up earlier," Gabriel gave her a sly look. "But you just hit my arm when I tried to shake you and asked for five more minutes, so we let you be." Serena looked away, and had some more coffee. She didn't remember any of that - but Gabriel didn't need to know that.

"So, how is Anabel, then?"

"Still fast asleep. Jules moved some of his equipment up to her room, and is keeping an eye on her. I'm fine, though." A sarcastic laugh escaped his lips, and Serena turned away, looking embarrassed. "Thanks for asking."

"I'm sorry for not asking." Serena rolled her eyes, and flashed a coy smile. Warm, but with a twinge of exasperation. "But I'm glad to see you're alright." A slightly worried look came over her as she added, "Is Lisa-"

"She's frazzled from everything that's happened, but otherwise, she's fine." He clarified, and Serena sighed in relief, and took another deep draught of coffee, draining her mug and putting it onto the nightstand.

"I don't blame her." Serena said, and turned back over towards her friend - and flinched back, when she saw the look in his eyes. Playful, but there was a hint of seriousness to it. "W-what?" She said, a nervous look beginning to crawl onto her face, as she pulled back.

"Well, you look a lot better, too." Gabriel said. His tone was a bit teasing, but there was something else to it that sprouted goosebumps on the back of her neck. Something more serious. Something that made her instinctively feel a bit guilty.

"Well, I feel well-rested." Serena said, leaning back a bit. "The coffee helped." She added, with a wry smile.

"I'm sure that's a part of it, but..." Gabriel paused, letting it hang in the air for a second, as Serena ruffled up the back of her hair. "Well... What'd you mean by, 'I'm good?'" He said, and Serena looked a bit antsy. "Is it what I think it is?"

"Did Jules figure it out?" She sounded very nervous at that.

"If it makes you feel any better..." Gabriel laughed a bit. "Jules just thought it was a drug thing." Serena laughed, and rolled her eyes at that.

"I guess that's one way of looking at it..."

"But, yeah." Gabriel adjusted his glasses again. "Like I said, you're looking alot better... Did you take my advice and run out for a pint after you were done?" He asked, with all the warmth and earnestness in the world crammed into his smile, and Serena locked up, unsure, suddenly, of what to say. The awful memory of it - the fight, the way the knife slid into her body, what Corto said he'd do to her... She took a deep breath. The rush of energy and warmth. That... Feeling, as she literally drank the life from his veins... Serena found her gaze going to the floor. Should she lie?... She felt a bit reluctant to speak of it, even to a friend, but... She looked back up, at the sunny, somewhat teasing look behind his spectacles, and sighed, and a nervous smile came to her face, and she relented.

"Not..." Serena's gaze went back to the window. "Exactly." She admitted. Normally, she mused, she'd have probably kept it to herself, but, with the look Gabriel was giving her, and the fact that, not only was he one of the very few people 'in the know' about her condition, but also someone of an open mind who could handle it, and, with a deep breath, she started recounting her side of the fight. Escaping with Anabel into the basement, fleeing, faltering in the burial chamber... She needed a moment to compose herself, hands on her legs, gaze burning holes in the ceiling as she recounted the decision to... Drink from Anabel as she slept, to rebuild her strength. Gabriel didn't lose his composure, but even he looked surprised at that - and a bit curious.

"Does that make me a bad person?" Serena asked, crossing her arms.

"Well, you couldn't exactly ask her if you could borrow a pint..." Gabriel replied. "Under the circumstances, I'd say you did the right thing, though..." He stroked his chin, and Serena looked rather shocked - that... Seemed to come to him fairly easily. "It was you or him. I don't think Anabel would have minded." He let out a dry laugh, that just made Serena look even more ashamed. "If I didn't need to be sober for that, Serena, I already told you I'd let you. It seems like a fun high." He let out a sarcastic laugh, and Serena rolled her eyes.

"I wouldn't do it unless we were both about to die." She bluntly said. "So don't joke about it..." Serena needed to take a deep breath - and stem the voice in the back of her mind that told her, that she knew damn well he wasn't kidding. "Gabriel, I really don't want to have to subject my friends to it, Don't bring it up. Kay?"

A few moments later, she composed herself again, and continued, with her and Corto's final duel, her skin crawling as she remembered the... Feeling of how Corto twisted the knife inside of her. The chase. That last... Lapse, where she'd lost her temper. The hail of gunfire. That final... Embrace, and... Serena groaned. It just fell out of her. Ending it by drinking out the last of Corto's life to sustain her. There was a long, uneasy pause. She couldn't stand to look Gabriel in the eyes. "I'd rather not have to do that again..." She said.

"It's good to know the option's there, though." Gabriel replied, stroking his chin, and Serena turned back to him, wide-eyed, and a bit surprised.

"He called me a demon!" Serena exclaimed, quivering with guilt.

"What, Corto?" Gabriel asked. "Between you and me, I don't think he ought to be throwing stones. I saw him out in the kitchen. Nasty piece of work. Again - it might not be the most wholesome way to rub someone out, but, better him than you." He flashed her a smile. "I'm quite glad to see you're alright, personally. I think everyone else would feel the same way."

"I feel like a monster." She admitted, and shot him a glare. "It's your own damn fault, too!"

"Considering it's also the reason you're alive and talking to me right now," He said, and Serena's eyes went wide, and she looked away again, a conflicted, guilty look on her face. "I think my conscience will be alright. I prefer a world with Serena in it, than one without."

"Do you have a moral code, Gabriel?" She asked, taking a deep breath.

He flashed a dry smile. "P.L.U.R." Serena groaned, and rolled her eyes.

"Not hippie shit." She responded, taking a deep breath, her eyes going back to the curtains. Drawn, concealing the world beyond. It felt oddly... Claustrophobic. "I mean, I keep trying to do the right thing, but-"

"But what?" Gabriel cut in, sounding a bit more serious now. "What IS the right thing, anyways? Serena, you saved all of us." He said, and her eyes flashed open. "I don't think Corto would've stopped at you and Anabel, either. I know the way you actually did it was a bit-"

Her eyes lidded. "Monstrous."

"One way to put it." Gabriel laughed. "Serena, for what it's worth." He said, and put a hand on her shoulder, a sudden, resolute look behind his spectacles. "I think you did the right thing. Not every day's a... Clean day. Not every day you'll be proud of yourself. But you shouldn't feel down for things like that - focus on what you accomplished!" His expression began to shift again, like the golden rays of the dawn creeping out from the horizon of a dark night, a vigorous, warm smile crept onto his face. "Serena, you're the first person in the world to install an AI onto a human body - and you've protected her from those nasty Rapturous Legion mercs-"

"Are you doing it on purpose, now?" Serena teased, and Gabriel just playfully looked away, and flashed a guilty smile, before continuing.

"My point is, Serena, you shouldn't get so hung up on things like that. So, what?" Gabriel shrugged his shoulders. "You got him with your vampire fangs instead of, y'know, a gun, or something normal. You kinda had to - and besides, you're one of the most restrained people I know! You don't need to worry about being a monster, Serena." He flashed a wily smile. "I can't even get you to try drinking from me. I think you're doing good."

"You can make anything sound nice..." She just sighed, and let out a relieved, cathartic laugh. "You know, you're making me feel really bad for yelling at you. It feels like kicking a puppy."

"Well, I do like puppies." Gabriel smiled. "So I'll take the compliment.

"We got a bit off track, though..." Serena stretched her arms out, and slowly emerged from the bed, stepping out onto the carpet, and yawning, and stretching the sleepiness out of her body some more. "Why'd you wake me up, anyways?..." She cracked a wily grin. "I thought I left you in charge..."

"Oh! Yeah!" Gabriel suddenly looked alert - and a tiny bit nervous, the important detail having crept back up to him, and now, like a contact buzz, Serena was beginning to look a bit uneasy, herself. "I've been managing, but something's come up which you're going to need to take care of."

Serena nervously adjusted the straps on her brassiere for a bit of comfort, and raised an eyebrow at that. "Well, what do you mean?"

Gabriel took a deep breath, his demeanour shifting in a more serious direction. "Well, your client's coming." He said, and Serena's blood turned to ice, goosebumps popping up all over her skin.

"Hollace?!" She exclaimed, and Gabriel nodded. "What, is he mad?"

"Pretty mad, from how he sounded on the phone." Gabriel replied, his tone halfway between concerned and ironic, and Serena sighed. "The big issue, from what he said, is how we started a shootout on his property-"

"It's not like I'm the one who invited them!" Serena snapped, and Gabriel took a deep breath, and adjusted his spectacles.

"Well, you'll be able to tell him that in person." Gabriel replied, and Serena took a deep breath, and groaned.

"We... Did go a bit off the rails with this." She admitted, scanning the room, expression turning even more concerned as she realized- "And where are my clothes!" She snapped, and Gabriel gestured off into a corner of the room, where, by the dresser, Serena spied her suitcase - the one she'd left in the B&B a few days ago, and looked a bit more relieved - and concerned.

"Well, I sent everything you were wearing last night off to the cleaners. Vincent knows a guy who does a great job with blood." Gabriel explained, more chipperly than anyone using that phrase should be. "Lisa wanted a change of clothes, so, while the porter was at the hotel, I had him pick up your suitcase, too. Anyways, don't worry..." He laughed a bit, as he pointed over to the nightstand, where Serena had groggily set down her cup of coffee, and had failed to notice the keyring, cell phone with a dead battery, wallet, pair of black leather biking gloves, lighter, crumpled up packet of nightsticks, pocket lint, buttons, a forgotten packet of chewing gum, and various other oddities and effects she couldn't quite remember having stowed away in her coat. "I had your pockets emptied."

After the initial surprise, Serena found herself cracking a wry smile at all of that. "You didn't take a butlering course to pad your degree, did you?"

"Degrees." Gabriel corrected, and Serena rolled her eyes again, and laughed, and went over to her luggage. With Hollace fast on his way, she definitely couldn't stay in her skivvies, and rifled through her spare clothes, putting together an outfit as quickly as she could. She'd normally have gone with something more comfortable, but, since she was meeting with a client - and a potentially angry one at that, Serena decided to dress sharply. Black, high-waisted trousers, white button-up shirt, and a white tank top to go underneath, and red necktie to complete it. Deferring to the weather, she went with a cream-coloured, blazer-style woolly cardigan over it. And her gunbelt - which, she'd nearly panicked at losing, but Gabriel had helpfully pointed over to the railing of the bed's frame where he'd hung it.

Serena started with the pants, one leg at a time, in her own little corner, but paused, a heavy-lidded look coming on her face as she noticed how Gabriel had been acting... Obnoxiously coy. Aside from pointing out her gunbelt, he'd been... Rather quiet, and was making a big show of not looking at her as she dressed herself and an... Odd rash of irritation began to come over her. In fact, she'd been in her underpants this whole time and he hadn't so much as said a word. In spite of what she'd said, about feeling bad about yelling at him, the... Oddity of it was starting to tick her off...

"If we're just friends, Gabriel." She said, continuing to dress, pulling her pants on fully, and giving him a heavy stare. "Then don't act so damn coy."

"Are you embarrassed at me..." A quizzical look came onto his face. "Not watching you get dressed?" He sneered, and she frowned. "That's a first."

"It's just weird, that's all!"

"I get it." He took a deep breath. "It's because, even though we're friends, I'm a man and you're a woman and there's social conventions we're all drilled in. I'm not into you, and that's why I'm not checking you out. I can leave you alone to get dressed, if you want."

"I don't!" She snapped. "Er. I..." She fell a bit silent, gaze dropping to the floor. "I'm not into you, either, so don't worry. You're a bit old for me." She flashed a dry smile. "And I'd rather just be friends."

"Don't take it the wrong way, Serena." He said, stretching out his arms. "You've got a very nice body." He said, and her eyes went wide, and she looked away, turning beet red, and Gabriel laughed a bit. "Don't let me make you feel insecure about yourself. Or your love life."

"I'm really sorry." She replied, shifting gears. "I shouldn't have said that. I think I'm just..." Serena groaned, and, with some slowness, continued to dress herself, doing up each button on her shirt with great care. "Tired. "And I'm not looking forward to dealing with Hollace." She admitted."

Gabriel breathed in, and his expression turned serious. "Neither am I."

"So, what happened after you guys went through the window?" Serena asked as they left the guestroom, back into the hallway. She sounded, at once, impressed - and mildly concerned, and Gabriel looked a bit proud.

"Well..." Though, his self-satisfaction drained just a bit, turning slightly embarrassed as he explained. "We ran. Corto tried to poke his head through the window but Lisa and I put a few bullets his way and that made him reconsider, I suppose." A slightly cattish, teasing smile came onto her face. With Serena having finished dressing herself, with only a bit of awkwardness, the first thing she wanted to do was go and check on Anabel - and the rest of her team. Jules was already there, tending to the patient, and Gabriel explained to her that, last night, Lisa and Mrs. Laytowne - the head of the cleanup crew - had taken one look at eachother and immediately hated eachother, chose to instead sequester herself with the ghost girl and the slightly batty neurologist.

So, as they went through the manor's corridors, Gabriel was filling in Serena on his half of last night's events, while she was fighting Vic in the matrix, fighting Corto in the basement, and sleeping all of that off. Now that she was awake - and Anabel was no longer haunting its information systems, Serena was finding this place much more... She struggled to put a finger on it. 'Welcoming' would be wrong. This massive, richly decorated residence still felt uncanny and... Vain, she had to admit, but it definitely felt far less threatening than it had on her first visit. Even the knights she passed by, standing sentry, she didn't give much more than a passing glance - as she did the occasional Bathrette security guard, patrolling the halls in peaked police caps and long, gray woollen coats. They were attached to the cleanup crew, and most of them were on the ground floor with the cleaners themselves, making sure nobody intruded on their work.

"Anyways," Gabriel continued filling in the gaps. "We found the gardeners' shed out there in the snow. The manor was too dangerous, so we decided to camp out there for a while."

"How was it?"

"Pretty nice, actually." A dreamlike smile came to his face - matched by an odd one on Serena's. "Lisa and I stayed for a while, watching the door with our guns - and what little bullets we had left. Mostly as a bluff. Anyways, it was really calm. Really quiet. Really tranquil. Like going camping in the snow and being in your tent and just taking in the quietness of everything. The gardener had an old alcohol stove we borrowed for the heat, and it was like a candle, the flame dancing and playing shadows on the walls, watching the snowflakes fall through the window..." He took a deep, wistful breath and closed his eyes. "It was really relaxing - you ought to try it sometime."

"Wasn't it cold, though?" Serena interrupted, her smile turning a bit dry, and Gabriel looked away as he adjusted his glasses.

"Oh, it was cold as hell." He said, and the both of them laughed at that. "Anyways, Lisa was tired out from all the violence, so she ended up falling asleep first, so I ended up watching the door for a while. I don't remember falling asleep, but I must've, since, around five-ish?..." He stroked his chin. "I think. Before sunrise, anyways. One of the security guards was tapping at the window with his flashlight, and that's how I found out," His tone turned playfully sharp, and he leaned in a bit, and this time, it was Serena's turn to look away with a guilty smile on her face. "You gave me a load of work."

"Yeah, but the cleanup crew took care of the hard stuff, didn't they?"

"Well, Yes, they did." Gabriel adjusted his glasses again, tone turning a bit drier, and more serious. "Getting bloodstains out of the carpet, cleaning up shell casings and debris, hauling away the four bodies-"

"Four bodies?!-" Serena suddenly paused, eyes wide, turning to her friend with an agitated, confused look expression. "There were five mercs!.."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "That's all the cleanup crew found. Incidentally, Mrs. Laytowne asked me to pass along a complaint; she didn't appreciate her boys having to haul Corto out of the basement, and said the way you left Redmond in the snow was 'sloppy.'" Serena groaned, the uncomfortable voice of Mr. Van Steyr popping into her head, badgering her for secrecy. She found herself agreeing with Lisa's perspective a bit, but then an uncomfortable look came over her again, and she pulled on her shirt collar.

"Did you see the body?..." She asked.

"Briefly." Gabriel replied. "What, did you leave evidence of your secret?-"

"Not so loud!" She snapped back, panicking a bit, before composing herself, taking a deep breath, leaning in and whispering. "Maybe..."

Gabriel gave her a tender, slightly teasing smile. "I'll be honest - it looked nasty, but you can't tell. It just looks like you had a bad struggle."

Serena's gaze fell to the floor, an uncomfortable expression coming onto her face. "It was. He didn't go down easily... Or quickly."

"Might've been for the best that it was a rough one." Gabriel adjusted his glasses, his tone still trying to be reassuring and sunny, though, even with everything he said, Serena still felt the guilt press down on her a bit, like a lead gym towel. "He looked mangled enough you couldn't find two little puncture wounds in all of that. Nice job, by the way."

"Thank you." Serena rolled her eyes, tone dry and sarcastic. "What about Anabel, though?" She asked, as they rounded a corner, getting closer and closer to her room. A doorway, near the end of the hall. Otherwise identical to the rest of them - were it not for the Bathrette guard standing infront of it, looking a bit too hot in his company overcoat.

"You've been asking about her a lot."

"She's been who all this stupid job has revolved around." Serena took a deep sigh. "I'm sorry for asking every five seconds, but it's important."

"Well, you've got good timing, then." Gabriel joked, his wily grin matched by a dry smile on Serena's face, as they approached the door. The guard - Constable Cotton, by his nametag and rank pin - gave Serena a short tip of the hat as she approached, and stood aside. Serena put a hand onto the knob and twisted it, opening the door with a loud, ominous creak, as she and Gabriel stepped into Anabel's bedroom - as it existed in reality.

"Hey." Lisa said, with a weary tone, briefly looking up from her dataslate, reclining in an armchair in the corner. Jules briefly looked up from his scanning equipment, on the far side of Anabel's bed, adding a distracted, detached, "Ello there." before getting back into his work. Anabel, of course, said nothing from her bed, and kept sleeping away, peacefully cloistered from the world and it's problems. Serena greeted her friends with a similarly detached, "Hey guys." and Gabriel closed the door behind them, as Serena took a deep breath, and took in what she was seeing. It was an odd sensation of deja-vu, being somewhere for the first time that was, nonetheless, somewhere familiar. She and Lisa had visited the proxy of Anabel's room in the Schwarzwalder Manor mainframe, and it was eerily similar - with a few distinctions.

There was a bookcase off to one side, crammed with real, actual, printed on paper books, which Serena noted, was almost kingly. There was a massive dresser on the opposite wall, a wooden desk by the window, with red curtains pulled aside to reveal the snowy night outside, and the softly falling ballet of white drifting past the glass. The main feature, dominating the room, was Anabel's fancy, ornate, four-poster bed, under its soft, fluffy red covers the ghost girl was contentedly snoozing away amid a fortress of pillows and stuffed animals. At her side, Jules kept fiddling with a small computer, connected to monitoring patches on her head, his expression mostly confused. Lisa had been sitting in a comfortable-looking, high-back maroon armchair by the door, with her hat missing. A big difference was the fancy looking vanity table, up on the wall by the door, with a large, round mirror - and Serena's cyberdeck and bag of tricks on it, eliciting a smile and a deep sigh of relief. There was also a yellow, paper gift bag on it as well, but her eyes mostly tracked over it. What had stayed - mostly - the same, to Serena's slight disturbance, were the swords.

As it was in cyberspace, Anabel's sword collection was immediately eye catching. More functional examples lined the walls. More decorative pieces were kept in special glass cases. Anabel's real-world collection, mirroring the digital one, was comprised of European-styled blades, the most prominent of which was a pair of duelling rapiers, in their scabbards, on a plain wooden shield, crossed and hanging over her bed. Another divergence Serena noticed was the glass trophy case opposite the foot of Anabel's bed, and, out of curiosity, she found herself approaching it, peering in, and reading off some of the plaques. The trophies were from various junior fencing competitions, some styled in the more traditional brass chalices, others less conventional; small statuettes of duellists, and a few shields, and Serena's mind began to roam a bit, wondering if, and how they'd diverged.

The Anabel now laying peacefully in bed definitely had a fixation on bladed weapons. That had been clear while she'd been chasing Serena down the halls of her digital realm. The Anabel that was resting peacefully in the Earth, though?... Serena's eyes lidded, focused on a silvery statuette. Evelyn had said she'd noticed the... Differences. How Anabel was becoming her own person, so to speak, and wondered where else the differences lay. Were there any in regards to... She looked around. All the swords. Was the... Other Anabel as passionate about it? It was a silly - and probably moot - question, Serena admitted. She couldn't exactly ask the 'other' Anabel, but she wondered a bit. Had Anabel originally taken up fencing because, as many kids do with sports, their parents pressed them to? Did she do it begrudgingly or come to like it?... Whatever the case was, had Anabel diverged from that? Had she become her own person?

"So, what now?" Lisa broke the silence, still methodically writing notes down in her dataslate, and Serena sighed, and turned away from the trophy cabinet, back over to her friend. It might've been something silly to contemplate with a very real problem brewing on the horizon...

"I guess we're going to have to wait until Hollace gets here..." Serena sat on the foot of Anabel's bed, sulking a bit. "To report that we've finished the job." Her tone was resigned and weary. Yes, they'd finished everything. They'd won, but it felt a bit... She raised an eyebrow. Oddly hollow. Incomplete, too. Anabel was in a human body now, and the Ecstasy Battalion were broken, but... She sighed. Well, Hollace was pissed at them, and, "There's a missing piece to all of this..." Serena said aloud.

"I know." Lisa replied, hazel-green eyes intensely focused on the tablet computer like a medieval scribe. "I've been trying to make sense of this all for hours. For one," She looked up at Serena with a quizzical look in her eyes. "Do you know what happened to Vic? The cleaners couldn't find him." She delivered that with a bit of carefully picked disdain.

All Serena could do was shrug her shoulders. "Your guess is as good as mine. Since we didn't find the body, I'd assume he survived, but-"

Lisa raised an eyebrow. "But what?" She asked, and Serena took a deep breath and filled her in on the netbattle, and how she'd fought the cocky console cowboy through the virtual halls of Schwarzwalder Manor. More specifically, how it ended. The final attack landing as Victor logged out. And no indication he'd died - which made everyone else very confused.

"That's impossible!" Lisa proclaimed, and Serena sighed. "Everything I know about netbattling says that should have killed him!... Or made him... Er..." She took a glance over at Anabel, and said nothing else.

"But he's not here." Serena replied, and an awkward silence hung over the room for a few seconds.

"That's too bad for us..." Lisa sighed, and fixed her glasses. "I had a lot of questions I'd have asked him. It would clear a lot up if we could find out-"

"-Who hired them..." Serena completed her friend's sentence, and the mood shifted, a faint tang of metaphorical ozone filtering in, as two sets of eyes turned to Serena's cyberdeck. Then three. Then all four of them.

"Have you read the data Anabel stole from the merc's server?" Lisa asked. Serena sighed, and got up from the bed and went to her machine.

"No." She admitted. "I didn't have the time. We were busy with putting Anabel into..." Her expression turned awkward - as did Lisa's, the two of them turning to where Anabel slept. She looked odd to Serena's eyes. Well-rested, but somehow less tranquil. "Her body." She finished. "Did you?"

"I haven't been able to read it, either." Lisa admitted as well, shrugging her shoulders. "Gabriel said you'd be pissed if I tried cracking your cyberdeck..." It took a bit for Serena to connect the dots, but she saw Lisa flash a coquettish little smile and fix her glasses and heard Gabriel snicker, and an uneasy, irritated smile began to crawl onto her face.

"You tried to crack it anyways, didn't you?!" Lisa said nothing, still wearing a cutesy smile, pointedly not making eye contact, and Gabriel began to laugh a bit, and a heavy-lidded, pouty expression crawled onto Serena's face, and she took a deep breath, shook her head, and made a mental note to never leave Lisa alone with any of her kit. Ever.

"Why don't we, then?" Gabriel piped up, chipper as ever, diffusing the tension a bit. "You know, second best time to plant a tree, and all that."

"Lets'." Serena replied, calming down a bit, turning back to the vanity table and making the space her own. From the bag of tricks, she pulled out, and plugged in two cables; one to recharge her cyberdeck's power cell, spent after a long night of netbattling, and the other for her cell phone, spent because it was eight years old at this point and had one foot in the landfill.

With Gabriel and Lisa looking over her shoulders, and even Jules looking up from his equipment to watch, Serena flipped open the screen and powered her machine up, booting up the operating system and the graphical user interface, initializing the desktop environment, with it's lovely wallpaper of a little digitized garden, with vast rolling green hills, covered in flowers. With the mouse and keyboard she opened up the file explorer and navigated through the file structure, taking a deep breath, as she and her friends leaned in even closer. Thoughtlessly dumped in the downloads folder was a zip file with an innocuous name. 'Insurance policy - client 286.' A quick look at the file structure showed Serena and Lisa that it HAD been encrypted - but had long since been breached. With bated breath, Serena moved the mouse cursor over the file, and-

A knock at the door made Serena stop in her tracks, eyes wide, and flinch back, with a sudden flash of panic. Her friends had backed off as well (and Serena nearly hit Lisa with her shoulder) and all three of them turned to the door, where, with another ominous creaking sound, the ornate, richly carved slab of wood opened just a crack, revealing the guard who'd been outside, with a radio in his hand and a concerned look in his face, matching the worried expression Serena now wore. "Agent?" he asked. His tone professional and matter of fact, but failing to disguise his unease.

"Yes?" Serena asked, as respectfully as she could manage. "What is it?"

"There's a Mr. Schwarzwalder coming here to see you." He replied, and the anticipation of reading the file Anabel had stolen had vanished, replaced with resigned dread, throwing her back into realty, where, Serena was going to have an awkward time explaining things to an important client.

Serena shook her head, and, with reluctance, closed the screen on her cyberdeck. Important as it was, it would have to wait. "Tell him to come in."

"Erm..." The guard cleared his throat, and Serena raised an eyebrow. "I didn't explain the situation properly. At the door, he and his men shoved their way through and, well..." He sighed. "We couldn't really stop him, since it IS his house..."

"So..."

"So, he's on his way to speak with you, and..." Cotton cleared his throat again. "I don't want to alarm you, ma'am, but I've been told he's really ticked off - and he's brought his C-men with him."

"What does that mean?" Lisa asked, and Serena just shook her head.

"C-Men is short for 'Company Men.'" Gabriel piped in. "You know, like the Bathrette Beautronics Security Team, except these guys work for Mr. Schwarzwalder, which means they don't have to listen to us.'"

"Well, it means, he means business." Cotton adjusted his cap.

"It means he's pissed off and we need to think of something." Serena groaned. "Or I'm gonna have to explain to Commander Sikorski why we lost a client..." She sighed, shook her head, and told Cotton, "When he arrives-"

"Is this where they are?" A voice outside cut her off, and Serena's eyes widened in shock. A familiar voice, that spoke with a slightly Germanic accent - and a lot of anger. The rest of Serena's colleagues found themselves uneasily standing off to the side. They all tried to look supportive, especially Gabriel, but Serena looked a bit ticked off, because she knew what was unsaid: 'You're the boss here, Serena. That means this is YOUR problem.' She took a breath of deep air, straightened her necktie, and put her cardigan as together as it could get in the short time she had left. Unfortunately, it was the truth. This was her assigned job, after all. That meant all she could do was bite the bullet, and do the best she could...

The door flew open with a loud squawk, the exposing a pair of goons who'd muscled Cotton out of the way, and of course, the client. Hollace Schwarzwalder emerged into the bedroom with a look of stunned shock on his round face, and Serena's unease flared up, and, instinctively, she took a step back. She couldn't quite articulate why, but something felt wrong. Very, very wrong. After a moment of shock, though, Hollace cleared his throat and fixed his necktie and his mood began to settle down into the displeased, impatient choler Serena had been expecting - to her displeasure. "Ms. Ramneau." He greeted her, with barely restrained anger and... Serena felt that odd wrongness again. What felt like faint confusion.

"Er-..." She coughed into her hand, a heavy-lidded look coming over her. "Come on in..." She said, and then realized how stupid that sounded.

"Thank you," He sarcastically growled. "I think I will - It's my property, anyways! You people have no right to treat me like this!-"

"If the gentlemen minding the front door gave you any... Grief..." Serena trailed off, peering past Hollace's wide frame, towards his two 'C-men.' They matched Hollace's well-tailored black suit and gray overcoat, though, they were much more muscular than he was. They were tall, and somewhat interchangeable: One bald, with a goatee, the other clean shaven and merely balding. The wore stoic expressions and black glasses, and their fine clothes, Serena mused, likely concealed cybernetic enhancements - at which, she scoffed a bit. She might ordinarily have been intimidated, but after dealing with Corto, it was going to take more than garden variety wired-up thugs to spook her. "Then I'll apologize on their behalf." Serena continued. Deferentially. She wasn't spooked, but what Cotton had said still hung uncomfortably in her mind. They weren't exactly here to hold his coat.

"I've... I've half a mind to lodge a complaint, Ms. Ramneau!" He fired back, and something caught Serena's instincts. She took a quick glance at her personal social barometer, and felt a bit worried when she saw how attentive Lisa looked. She'd noticed it too. Something wasn't right. "I consider myself a patient man, but this is the last straw!" He ranted on, angry and impatient, but Serena noticed something odd in his tone. "I must draw the line somewhere, and Ms. Ramneau, you have sailed over it!"

"Regardless." Serena took a deep breath. She was trying to be amicable. Professional. Much as it irked her to admit, Hollace was a client, and she had a part to play in how this had gone way off the rails. "The task you have contracted our services for is now officially complete." She continued, putting on her best customer service smile and watching his face. "Your mainframe is now officially free of any rogue artificial intelligence-"

"So, what?!" Hollace exploded on her, and drew in closer, and Serena flinched. A look of shock fading quickly as it came, replaced with a fiery, indignant feeling that showed a bit on her face, despite her efforts. It was what Corto had done, while twisting the knife, and she had to fight a powerful urge to shove him. "Have you SEEN the bill your company sent me?! I did not hire you to conduct some... Atrocious medical experiment, or to start a shootout on my property - and then charge me to clean it up!"

"The contract of service clearly states, sir-..."

"I DID NOT CONTRACT YOU FOR ANY OF THIS!" Hollace flew off the handle, looking like he was about to blow a gasket. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead, and his eyes... Serena looked a but puzzled. His eyes looked on edge. Everything else about Hollace looked angry, but the look in his eyes was something she was struggling to put a finger on... Desperate, maybe? "Let me make this perfectly clear!" Hollace added, cutting off her train of thought with an irate gesture of his index finger. "I will not pay Bathrette Beautronics one more red cent for any of this! 'Reasonable expenses incurred in the process of satisfying mission parameters,' my ass!"

"Mr. Schwarzwalder..." Serena took a deep breath. Focus. Don't lose your temper again. This is an important client, she reminded herself. "If the means by which we accomplished your goals weren't to your satisfaction-"

"Oh!..." Hollace twiddled his mustache, another bead of sweat running down his forehead. "It was more than 'unsatisfactory,' Ms Ramneau!" He pointed an index finger towards her, and Serena flinched, red eyes focused on his hand, and an indignant look on her face, visibly struggling to not lose her temper. "Is this how Bathrette treats all their clients?! Do all your agents use a mission as an excuse to run around the city, chasing ghosts?!-"

"We were not 'chasing ghosts,' Mr. Schwarzwalder." Serena's tone burned with restrained ire. The little managerial voice reminded her to choose her words - and tone - carefully, since, she'd be in trouble with... Everyone above her in the company's hierarchy, actually, if she lost this client. "It was a necessary part of the mission. I will be happy to mail you a copy of the report I will have to submit to my superiors when I'm done." She took a deep breath, trying to keep cool - harder than it looked, between Hollace waving his finger in her face, and her woolly cardigan.

"A report?!..." Hollace blasted out with... Well, Serena found it odd. He wore a look of insulted indignation, but it took a second for the expression to actually flash on his face after the words left his mouth. "I don't need a damn report! I've been billed ten times the amount of the quote I received from your company's accountants!" He leaned in towards Serena's face again, and she took a step back, taking a deep breath, feeling her hands ball involuntarily into fists. "I've never allowed a project to run over budget in all my years of business, and I do not intend to start with this!"

"When you first explained the mission parameters..." Serena's tone was beginning to grow harsh, the mask slipping off a bit. "You neglected a few things - like how the AI you wanted exorcised was a digitized copy of your niece. Or how you sent FOUR OTHER HACKERS AFTER IT BEFORE ME!" She let it hang in the air for a few moments, her temper having fully bubbled over. Serena was a bit too irate to notice - but Lisa picked it up, and now, she was standing right behind her friend, quickly jotting down how Hollace hadn't even flinched when she'd said that... "Maybe..." Serena crossed her arms, and an angry, vicious smile crossed her face, patience finally running dry. "If you told us the whole damn story about how your brother's program locked you out, then maybe the accountant would have quoted you a more realistic price, Mr. Schwarzwalder."

"I told you everything you needed to know!" He snapped back - and this time Serena noticed how he didn't deliver it in the usual angry, impatient tone. The mask of anger, as a matter of fact, briefly slipped from his face, and Hollace looked, briefly, worried, and sounded to Serena like he was hastily defending himself from an accusatory statement.

"I nearly died!" She yelled back, leaning in towards him. Despite the odd tone, the gall of him in saying that poured another bottle of vodka onto the bonfire of her temper. "Because you thought I didn't 'need to know.'" She did air-quotes as she said it, tone dripping with sarcasm. "What would you have done if Anabel DID kill me?!-"

"It'd have-!..." Hollace paused, leaving an awkward silence in the air, anger momentarily withdrawing from Serena's thoughts, looking more... Confused, and a bit agitated. "You..." Hollace cleared his throat. "I was told you were a professional, Ms. Ramneau!" He snapped back, angry once again, but sounding a bit... Oddly hollow, as well.

"Regardless..." She took a deep breath, the choler in her beginning to be replaced with an... Odd sense of disquiet. Somehow, she was getting the impression Hollace's anger wasn't coming on naturally. Like he was forcing it. "This was necessary in getting Anabel off your mainframe. Like we've discussed, she was too powerful for me to take her on alone. As for the mercenaries..." She groaned. It felt galling, since that WASN'T her fault, but since her inner manager was badgering her for results, and, 'keep the client happy' was Customer Relations 101... "I'll talk with my bosses, and maybe we can do something about the cleanup fee-"

"Don't bother!" Hollace dismissed her with a wave of the hand, succeeding in making her a bit irate again. "I already told you, our business relationship is over, Ms. Ramneau!" He took a deep breath, adjusted his necktie, and turned back to the door. "I have been very patient. I put you and your friend in a fancy hotel, and allow you use of one of my cars for a week, and look what you have done! I have been cheated out of a fortune for what any competent cracker." He put particular vicious, mocking emphasis on that, twisting the knife, and Serena flinched - and needed to summon all the willpower she had to restrain herself from clocking the fat bastard and teaching him a lesson in respect. "I am not paying a cent - and you can take that to your bosses!"

He turned over his shoulder to look at her, and, again, the choler in her veins subsided a bit. "I will make a circus of this, as you've made a fool out of me! Everyone will know what has happened, how you and your company have wasted my time, trashed my home, and abused my good graces!" He yelled, and Serena found she wasn't listening, instead focused on his face. He had an indignant and insulted and... Uncanny look. There was something subtly... Wrong with his expression, Serena realized. It felt almost like he was putting on a mask. "I will go to the newspapers and my business associates and the whole world will know that Bathrette's Commando Division aren't worth the time or the effort that it takes to hire them!- And, for that matter, I'll have your badge, Serena! No one cheats-"

"Listen, you!-" Serena stepped towards him, her temper having snapped - for the second time today, and the whole room flinched, as though all hell was about to break loose. Lisa stepped back, Gabriel's hand went into his coat - joined by the two C-men and Cotton behind them, his other hand about to thumb the radio's transmission button-

"Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawn-"

Serena's froze, her eyes going wide, and the mood immediately shifted, choler and anger disappearing like grave mist in the morning sun. Everyone's eyes turned towards the bed, going from tense to very curious - excited even, and, in Hollace's case, suddenly very awkward, the portly gentleman sweating bullets and adjusting his tie. "She's waking up!" Jules exclaimed, as, in the pile of blankets and pillows and stuffed animals, Anabel was stirring, shifting her weight around and stretching out from under the covers. Serena looked relieved - and embarrassed, and wondered if this was some odd serendipity. Anabel definitely picked the best time to interrupt, she mused.

The whole room gathered around Anabel's bed to watch the ghost, now in a human body, finally awaken and enter the real world. Even Cotton and Hollace's two C-men watched from the doorway, catching the buzz of excitement, as Anabel slowly opened her eyes, revealing twin spheres of blue to the world and rubbing the sleep out of them, sitting up in her bed, stretching the tiredness from her limbs, touching her head-

She stopped. Serena winced. Lisa looked awkward. Jules just looked a tiny bit guilty, and Gabriel looked... Well, slightly guilty and slightly teasing, with a warm smile on his face, and Anabel opened her mouth to speak, but-

A cacophony of noises rang through the room. Chirps, dings, buzzes, and a snatch of dialogue from some old war movie rang, and everyone reached, into their pockets and coats, for their cell phones (except Serena, whose phone was still on the vanity and was still powered off while it charged) and Anabel looked on, very, very confused. "What is it?" She asked, and Lisa took a deep breath, and, with a small, odd smile, turned the screen of her cell phone towards her, and Anabel's expression turned a bit guilty as she read off. "Where's my hair..." Then frowned, and crossed her arms, and said, "It's a legitimate question!"

"That you did ask all of us." Gabriel replied, with a wry smile, and his own cell phone in hand. "Anyways, brain surgery does mean we had to cut open your head, and since your hair was in the way-..."

"I get it..." Anabel cut him off, turning towards the window and sulking like... Serena cracked a smile. Like a teenager. She wanted to say something reassuring, though... She reflexively ruffled the back of her own hair. A short, sporty haircut; a pixie cut let out to roam and grow for a while. If she was in Anabel's shoes, she mused, she'd probably sulk hard as well. Thankfully for her, she didn't need to say anything at all, since, while Anabel was sulking and - everyone, as a matter of fact - looked a bit awkward, Gabriel slipped behind their backs and grabbed the yellow gift bag from the vanity, and stepped in between Serena and Lisa, flashing a sunny grin, and Anabel turned towards him, going from moody to confused before Gabriel reached in, and produced a blonde wig from the bag, and her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

"I thought you'd take it badly." Gabriel said, handing it over and Anabel quickly put it on, and adjusted it, making it snug. "So, I bought it for you to wear until your hair grows back in. I guess it's an early Christmas present."

"I..." An awkward laugh escaped her mouth, as Serena did a double take. It wasn't the same sort of style she'd seen on Samantha, or on Anabel's virtual representation. It was short - but sharp. Jet-set, almost. Slightly longer than Serena's hairdo, and styled into an elegant little bob. The sort you'd expect to see on an up and coming young urban professional. From the smile on Anabel's face, as she looked in the mirror of the vanity set, she did seem to like it, though. "Thank you, Gabriel," She said, a bit reserved. "But, now I don't know what to get you in return..."

"Oh, I've got everything I need in life." Gabriel dismissed it with a smile and a wave of the hand. "The satisfaction of a job well done is reward enough, so... How do you feel? Are you taking to your body well?"

"It's..." Anabel held a hand up to her eye. "Weird. I guess I'm just not used to..." Her expression turned awkward, eyes lidding, glance moving to the floor. "Breathing. Having weight. Feeling... Things. The blankets on my skin, the wig on my head, the beating of the hearing in my chest..." She looked away, back out the window. "Having a heart..."

"It's something you'll get used to." Gabriel said, with a teasing tone.

"I know how you feel." Serena added, finding an earnest smile coming to her face and Anabel turned to look at her, oddly quizzical. "Going from The Matrix back to reality always feels a bit weird for me. I can't imagine how it'd feel for you." She laughed a bit. "Having mass again after a while always throws me off." She said, and Anabel began to cheer up. A tiny bit.

"But, yeah, I meant more from a medical perspective." Gabriel clarified, by butting in again. "You are feeling physically fine, right?"

"I am fine." Anabel took a deep breath. "Aside from... All the stuff. That's taking getting used to. Everything's fine."

"I think we're missing the big picture, here!" Jules added, his voice dripping with enthusiasm as he leaned in and asked, "Can you do it again, Anabel?"

"Do what again?" She asked, looking a bit confused, until Jules held up his phone, and Serena's eyes went wide as she caught what he meant.

"Send me a text message!" Jules clarified. "Or, well, see if you can do anything with my cell! Without touching it, I mean! With your mind!"

Anabel stared at him for a few moments, looking unsure, but then her expression seemed to reach a resolution, and the screen on Jules' cell went from displaying his wallpaper of a sleeping border collie, to a black screen, and his eyes went wide and a massive smile came onto his face. "You turned it off!" He exclaimed, vibrating with excitement and pride. "You just... Reached in and turned my phone off! My God! Wireless... Thought control! It's the breakthrough of the century! I've just made trodes obsolete!"

"So..." Serena's expression turned very contemplative, and puzzled. "You can still control computers wirelessly, then?" She asked.

Anabel shrugged her shoulders. "I guess. I don't really know how." She looked very confused herself. I just thought his phone off, and it happened.

"It's the output signal!" Jules snapped his fingers, a metaphorical lightbulb going off over his head. Gabriel's eyes flashed as he realized it, too, and everyone else - Anabel included - looked very confused, until the two eggheads bothered to explain. "Gabriel, remember it?!"

"Yeah, the virtual trid static from her Cyber-Brain." Gabriel adjusted his glasses, and the wire connected for everyone else. "We didn't really know what to make of it at the time, but-"

"But this is the future!" A massive, enthusiastic smile came onto Jules' face. "Anabel can send a wireless control signal with her thoughts! She doesn't even need to plug herself in, and switch her sensory organs off! It's... Revolutionary! Light-years ahead of conventional thought interface technology! If this gets off the ground, Gabriel!... It's going to usher in a whole new age of... Everything! It's a complete game-changer!"

"One thing at a time, though..." Gabriel added, as the non-PHDs were beginning to look a bit overwhelmed. Especially Anabel. Especially Hollace, and especially, especially, the three corporate goons in the door who lacked... Any context, and were both confused and amazed. Serena found it a bit funny - it reminded her of that one time she'd gotten the wrong room, and walked in on a Doctorate-level theoretical physics lecture by mistake. "Our work is pretty much done here, even if some people-" Gabriel continued, turning his gaze back over to Hollace - who, looked as though he was trying to decide whether to explode in a fit of anger or flee in terror. "Take issue with the 'how.' Anabel, do you need any of us to stay and look after you, or do you have someone on staff to do that for-"

"Wait!..." She exclaimed, extending an arm towards Gabriel, as her face began to shift, going from shocked, to icy cold, and Serena suddenly found a bad feeling settling in her stomach. "I've got unfinished business." Her blue eyes darted from Gabriel and focused dead on Hollace's face, who, suddenly, began to squirm and fidget under her gaze. "Uncle."

"Yes, well, if there's something you need to discuss with your friends," Hollace wiped a profuse torrent of sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. "I'll get going and leave you to it."

"You stay." She cut him off, her voice cold as the pits of Hades, yet possessing a strange, white-hot anger and determination. "You two," She turned to the thugs in the door, who looked shocked to be acknowledged - and even more shocked when she addressed them as, "Mr. Leland. Mr. Skinner." They both locked up a bit. They'd probably only expected to have to stand around looking tough and say stuff like, 'That's no way to talk to 'da boss.' "You worked for my father. That means you work for me, so I'm going to respectfully ask you to leave me and my uncle to discuss... My inheritance." She said, making those words sound like a knife in the dark.

A long silence hung in the air, the tension thick enough to cut with any of Anabel's swords. Mr. Skinner and Mr. Leland turned to eachother, back to Anabel, and back to Hollace - who wore an expression at the midpoint of stern and nervous. "Aren't you..." One of the goons spoke up - Balding, the one Anabel had identified as Mr. Leland. "Mr. Schwarzwalder's Niece?..."

"I thought she was-" Mr. Skinner, the bald one, cut in, only to be interrupted as Anabel suddenly leaned in with a fiery look in her eyes.

"I am not dead!" She yelled out, shaking the room, leaving the echo to bounce around, she took a deep breath and composed herself. "And, again, I'm going to ask you to leave and give me some... Privacy."

Hollace quickly turned over towards his muscle, a sharp, irritated - but skittish look in his eyes. "The both of you, stay here-!"

"No, I think you should listen to Anabel, gentlemen..." Serena found herself stepping in - and shocking herself doing so. It was a gut reaction, and she didn't quite know what to make of it. Maybe it was just - she turned back over to Hollace, a suspicious look in her eyes. He was giving her a bad feeling. "I think we could all speak more freely without the..." She paused, to think of the most diplomatic way to put it. "Company men." It was a more charitable way of describing it than her original intention of calling them 'your thugs.' "Cotton?"

"Yes'm?" Constable Cotton asked, adjusting his cap.

"Could you see Mr. Schwarzwalder's people to a sitting room or something, while we talk?" It all felt uncanny, but, when the chips were down, Serena mused, she felt was that she'd rather Anabel get her way than Mr. Schwarzwalder. Especially since he'd threatened to have her fired.

"Of course, Agent." He dutifully replied, Mr. Skinner and Mr. Leland turning to face him, confused, and a bit antsy, but he calmly said, "If you'll come with me, gentlemen..." Like he was getting them to come for an interview.

"Please do." Anabel said, easing up a tiny bit. In spite of the desperate look Hollace gave them, the two goons cleared their throats, adjusted their ties, and departed, following Cotton in the hall, and disappearing from sight, as Hollace began to look more antsy, and wiped his forehead again.

"I'd better leave you as well, then." Hollace began to sidle for the door. "I've got a lot on my plate - especially needing to deal with Bathrette-"

"I said, stay!" Anabel snapped, and Hollace froze, and an uncomfortable mood crept into the room. "Lock the door, Serena." She said, and the bad feeling only intensified, sending a chill down her spine.

"Are you sure?"

"I don't want him trying to escape." Anabel replied, with a cold, unflinching tone. "Or someone else trying to come in here."

"Be reasonable, Anabel!..." Hollace cleared his throat again, as Serena adjusted the collar on her cardigan, wondering what had... Gotten into her? All of this was making her feel a bit on edge, but... Serena took a deep breath, and found herself going to the door, closing it and sliding the lock in place. Again, she was running on instinct, choosing to go with her gut and do what Anabel asked. She was acting edgy, but, oddly, coldly collected, Serena mused. Not at all like Hollace - who was beginning to visibly squirm, and looked on the edge of panic, debating whether to try the window. Twenty years and a hundred pounds ago, he might've.

"Get out of my way, Serena!-" Hollace snapped, coming to a decision and making for the door, and Serena's eyes went wide in shock, and she locked up. "You will not make me a prisoner in my own home!" He yelled out, and, half choleric and half desperate, reached out to shove Serena out of the way, Grabbing her by the shoulder, and, seeing the violent look in his eyes, something in her snapped, and her temper flared up again.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" She yelled out, grabbing his wrists and throwing him back as hard as she could, sending him stumbling backwards - and he would've landed flat on his back, if Gabriel hadn't caught him and heaved to keep him on his feet. The choler bled from her face as quickly as it'd arrived, a shocked expression coming over Serena as she realized she'd erred.

"This-This is an outrage!" Mr. Schwarzwalder showed his appreciation by violently throwing Gabriel off him. "Assault! Battery!" He pointed an indignant finger towards her. "You've all seen it! I'll not be pushed around - I'll sue you into the ground, Serena! I'll-"

"Oh, shut up!" Anabel yelled out, shattering the silence, and, to everyone's shock, threw herself up out of bed, still in her patient's gown, a look of bitter, cold anger and determination on her face, as she adjusted the wig, and Hollace's expression went from indignant to... Almost afraid, as Anabel looked him square in the eye, clenching her hands into fists, and yelling, "Don't pretend you're the victim, here! Tell them!"

"What do you mean?!" Hollace snapped, fixing his tie, shifting back into indignant anger. "Mind your tongue, Anabel! Don't think you can speak as you please! Your... My brother never programmed you to act like this! How dare you speak to a human being this way!-"

"I AM NOT A FAKE!" Anabel screamed out, losing her temper completely, and before anyone could react, she turned, jumped to her bed, and grabbed one of her rapiers from the wall, unsheathed it with practice precision, and held the point against Hollace's throat, an expression of burning, bitter hatred in her eyes. That had been the wrong choice of words, evidently. "I am your niece. I am Jonas' daughter! And if you don't tell everyone here what you've done I will strike you down!"

"I..." Hollace's face was a shifting morass of emotions, visibly flipping between desperation and anger, eyes focused on the tip of the sword infront of his throat. "I've done nothing! Is that brain-case thing malfunc?!-"

"YOU KILLED MY FATHER!" Anabel yelled at the top of her lungs, her face consumed with pain and vicious anger. The whole room fell deathly quiet - there'd been no gasps or alarm or any movement at all. It was as though a flashbulb went off, freezing them in time, and Serena could hear her own heart beating.

"HIM!?" Serena exclaimed, breaking the spell, eyes wide in shock. All of her companions looked stunned, for that matter - and only Anabel's determined, righteously angry look broke the pattern. Tears began to well up at the corners of her eyes, and Hollace nervously fidgeted at swordpoint, "Hollace is the one who!?-"

"I have done nothing!" He yelled out, trying to wriggle and worm his way away from Anabel's blade.

"SHUT UP!" Anabel roared, inching the tip of her sword ever so closer to her uncle's bulging throat. "You know what you've done! Serena already found you out! You're the one who hired those mercenaries to kill my!-"

"You're defective!" Hollace cut her off, working himself into a frenzy - even while he was sweating bullets. "You've tampered with her!" He turned towards Serena, with a look of hatred. "I never should have let you have access to the mainframe! You've tampered with my brother's work and made her say all these awful, abominable things!-"

"Don't try and change the subject!" Anabel snapped, her blade a gnat's whisker away from drawing blood. "I haven't changed. You're the one who's dysfunctional! You killed your own brother for... For WHAT?!"

"I'm..." Serena took a deep breath, stepping forward, extending a hand to calm things down. "Anabel, you sound very sure about this-"

"The mercenaries' file." She coldly responded, and all eyes turned back towards Serena's cyberdeck. The monitor flipped down, waiting for them to crack open the Ecstasy Battalion's secrets. "All the details are in there. They documented everything."

"W-what file?!" Hollace responded, suddenly very panicky, beginning to shiver, not a trace of anger left in his tone, and Serena's expression turned sharp, and alert. She said nothing, and quickly went to her cyberdeck, flipping the screen back up, rousing the device from sleep mode, and opening the file.

"Your hirelings didn't like you very much." Anabel said, her tone, hatefully mocking him, with tears in her eyes. "They thought you were going to screw them over, so, they decided to do unto others, and do it first."

"It's... Oh, God." Serena took a deep breath and a step back. "It's all in here..." She turned back to her companions, who all began to crowd around the cyberdeck - except Jules, who was still busy with being bewildered on the other side of the bed. "Anabel, have you read all this?"

"Cover to cover." She growled. "Metaphorically, I mean."

Serena took a deep breath and turned back to the cyberdeck, with Gabriel and Lisa, once again, over her shoulders, picking up where they left off, as Serena finally scrolled through the data. It wasn't long, but it was very detailed. It had an overview of the situation, in-depth accounts of Vic's dealings with the man the file called 'Client 286,' and their efforts to uncover his true identity. There were financial records, plans of the attack, and dozens and dozens of photographs of Hollace and the attack itself. All of it organized in such a way to lay the blame for the killing of Jonas and Anabel Schwarzwalder solely at the feet of his brother, and her uncle, Hollace.

"So, they really didn't trust him." Gabriel said, with a very serious tone, the humour more or less entirely drained from his voice. "Does it say why?"

"My Uncle is, among other things, a skinflint." Anabel said, still holding the man at swordpoint. "The Ecstasy Battalion doubted his intentions to pay in full, and, given the high profile and personal nature of the job, Uncle Hollace gave them the impression he was going to hang them out to dry. I can see why - he always treated everyone as disposable!"

"I have!-"

"Do us all a favour and stop pretending you're innocent." Serena stepped forward, shocked at hearing the words slip from her mouth, but growing more indignant as the little wheels in her head began to turn. "The Ecstasy Battalion's been in your pocket this whole time!" She glared at him hard enough to draw blood. "You're the one who's been sending them to kill us!"

"You went too far!" Hollace choked out, half irritated, half nervous. "If you'd only done as I told you to, we wouldn't be in this situation right now!"

"What do you mean, 'we?!'" Serena snapped, the patience visibly drained from her face. "Are you saying you sent a kill squad of mercs after me and my friends because I DIDN'T follow your instructions to the letter?!"

"I..." Rivulets of sweat ran down Hollace's brow. "The situation was spiralling out of control! My best hackers couldn't do the job, and if you couldn't, either, then it just meant I would have had to cut my losses!"

"So, you hired me, and then planned to kill me?!" Serena sounded half offended and half astonished. "Are you an imbecile?! How the hell were you going to explain it to my boss?! 'Oh,'" Serena erupted into an over-exaggerated German accent, 'I'm sorry, Commander, but zhe two of zhem were shot dead in zheir room by a mercenary attack!'"

"It happens." Hollace clenched his teeth. "I billeted you in a hotel full of the rich and powerful, and they all have powerful enemies! It would have looked like you got caught in the crossfire - especially since you waltzed into their line of fire!" She looked a bit stunned. "And you call me an imbecile!?"

"I..." Serena groaned, and shook her head. "I don't believe this! So, the mainframe was soooooo important." Vicious sarcasm dripped from her tongue like volcanic honey. "That you were willing to... Lose it? You went from wanting me to kick Anabel off, to deciding, since I was going to help Anabel out, you'd just kill me and destroy the mainframe?!"

"I had to prevent this exact situation from happening!" Hollace shot back. "Losing the mainframe would set me back millions, but my company would survive!-"

"YOUR COMPANY?!" Anabel screamed out, another flush of tears running down her cheeks. "My father BUILT this company, you rat!"

"He built nothing!" Hollace roared, choler suddenly erupting in his eyes, and Serena found herself taken aback. It was the real McCoy. Anabel had genuinely managed to piss him off. "My little brother was a do-nothing bohemian! If I'd left him to his devices, he'd be another dime a dozen code monkey! He had big dreams; he talked the talk, but knew nothing outside his terminal! I incorporated the company! I supplied the starting capital! I took us public, and the IPO took us from well-off to filthy rich! Everything he has, he owes to me! And do you know how he treated me!?"

"He was your brother!" Anabel yelled out, sword-hand quivering, and another tear falling out. "You were jealous of him, so you had him killed!-"

"He tried to oust ME from the company I built!" He yelled through clenched teeth, face turning red and the vein on his forehead beginning to throb. "He had no vision of the future or any sense of business! He just wanted to make his silly elf-games! I had to wrangle the shareholders and ensure year-over-year growth! I ran an army of accountants and managers to ensure we had a steady stream of investment capital! I was the mind of the business, but oh, brother dearest, took issue with how I did things! I kept having to tell him this business didn't just exist for HIS benefit! We had shareholders and creditors to think of, and needed to make economies! I told him, we don't need every idiot in the studio, and we can farm out the grunt work overseas for pennies on the dollar! HE called me a 'money-grubbing Philistine!' ME! I'd been behind him from the start! I backed him and everything he did, but he tried to throw me out, dilute my share holdings, and write me out of the will because I ran the business LIKE A BUSINESS! He said I was trying to ruin him! I did nothing but support him, and the nerve of him to-!"

"Oh, shut it!" Anabel cut him off with another vicious retort. "You were just jealous of my father! You couldn't handle everything not being done YOUR way! the money-grubbing MBA Way! You thought, just because he let you be the Chairman of the board, that you were the one in charge!?"

"I own fifty-five percent of the capital stock, paid for with my own money!" Hollace snapped back. "By my own rights, I am the owner! I am the boss! If my little brother thinks he can throw me out of the business I built!-"

"YOU OWNED TWENTY FIVE PERCENT!" Anabel exploded into a maelstrom of rage, and, for a moment, the anger bled out of Hollace's expression, replaced with fear, as his eyes went back to the sword at his throat. "The damn lawyers gave your OUR stake! My father owned twenty five percent of the capital stock, and I owned five percent!-"

"My niece owned five percent." Hollace's mood swung again, like the back end of a car pulling out of a drift, turning bitterly angry, as Lisa's phone exploded again with a torrent of messages - mostly comprised of profanity. "Don't condescend me! I know what you are! You're the program my brother made to guard his secrets, walking around in the skin of a brain-damaged girl!

"SHUT UP!" Anabel exploded into a whirlwind of fury and yet more bitter swearing, leaking out into almost every device in the room, and Serena looked very worried. Anabel's expression was overcome with pain and grief, and she added, "I'll... I'll send you to hell if you EVER call me that again! I'm a person! Not a thing! Not a tool, and!... And you killed my father, your brother, out of greed! What right do you have to talk down to me!..."

"I think we'd should wrap this up." Serena stepped forwards, and took a deep breath, an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. She found she almost couldn't bear to look at Anabel. Her expression was somewhere between tired, angry, and bitterly despondent. "We found the man who killed your father." Anabel - keeping the sword where it was, slowly turned over to her. "You don't have to do anything rash."

"He killed my father!"

"And we're going to hand him over to the police." Serena's expression turned more serious. "And he's going to be read his rights and stand before the judge and pay for what he did to your father and you." She paused, to adjust her tie, and take a deep breath. "I know you said you wanted revenge, Anabel, but he's no danger to you - there's no reason to kill him. The criminal justice system will do worse to him than you ever could."

"I won't let him get away with this..." Anabel clenched her teeth, and Serena's hand twitched, debating whether to say something or reach out to hold her back before Anabel did something and-

"He won't." Gabriel cut in, his tone more to the point, but... Oddly encouraging, with it. "He's going to spend the rest of his life in prison, exposed for the fratricide he is. Serena's right - it's worse than killing him."

"That's assuming the court doesn't send him to the electric chair..." Lisa added, twirling a lock of her vibrant, red hair. "Either way, he gets what he deserves. That's justice. He wronged your family; the state makes him pay. No need for revenge - or to lose your innocence like this."

Another uncomfortable silence hung over the room. Serena's eyes joined Hollace's in focusing on the tip of Anabel's blade, so close to his fat, bulging neck, even a twitch would draw blood. The snowfall picked up in pitch outside, the artificial sun long having fallen below the false horizon, bathing The Domes in the cloak of night. Anabel's expression began to shift, the violent anger beginning to drain from her face, turning to tiredness and sadness as she lowered the sword - just a tiny bit, letting Hollace breathe a tiny bit easier. "Fine." She said, with great pain, weariness, and disappointment. "I'll settle for... Justice. I..." She took a deep breath. "I... I trust you all... Serena, O've been mad about things. But I trust you, especially. Call the cops..." Her expression turned more resolute. "He'd better get what he has coming."

"He will." Serena resolutely responded, but what she wasn't expecting was for a desperate, maddened look to come on Hollace's eyes, and a vindictive smile to crawl onto his face.

"I won't!" He cut in, and shocked everyone - especially Anabel, when he leaned in and stuck his neck onto the blade. Not lethally - he'd just nicked himself on the point, but it certainly looked nasty, from how blood profusely spilled from the cut, and the way Hollace flinched in pain, pulling back and reaching for the cut with his hand. "You extracted that conversation by torture!" He yelled, and Anabel, in shock, found her sword arm lowering.

"What?!" Was all Anabel could respond, having been stunned by her uncle's display of self-abuse.

"No one's going to fall for that!" Serena yelled, quicker on the uptake, a disappointed, displeased look on her face. "If you think that little boo-boo is going to keep you out of jail, then-!"

"Oh, it's plain as day. Hollace flashed a vicious grin while wincing in pain. "The cut - it's going to leave a nasty scar - says it all! The jury won't trust a word you have to say about me!"

"There's five of us here!" Serena replied with an indignant, almost insulted tone. "Five witnesses, and the Merc's insurance policy!-"

"Doctored." Hollace laughed a bit. "You're a known computer hacker, Serena. It's a convincing fake, I'll give it that, but there's no possibility in proving it beyond a reasonable doubt! Really, it's a pathetic attempt to discredit me while I bring civil action against you for how I've been treated!" Serena froze up, somewhere between shocked and bitterly angry. "Really, this is all a massive conspiracy against a poor business owner, already grieving the loss of his brother! Anabel's expression shifted back to anger, and she clenched her hand tightly on her sword. "But let me make this perfectly clear! I will not take this lying down! I have the best lawyers in the city waiting for my call! I have legions of private eyes-" Serena's expression shifted again, thawing out, turning very uncomfortable, and bitterly angry. "who will go over the lot of you with a fine-toothed comb! All your dirty laundry will be out, and no jury in the world will believe a word you say-!"

"EDINBURGH?!" Serena shouted out, her expression going wild, somewhere between disgusted, angry, and surprised. "Oh, you've got to be kidding, he's-!"

"In my pocket?" Hollace smiled. "As any good businessman must, I have eyes and ears everywhere! I have dozens of Phil Edinburghs to call!" He extended his index finger towards Serena, smiling madly. "I have all the money, time, and willpower in the world! You won't win, Serena!"

"Oh, save it for the judge!-"

"That's assuming I even see trial in the first place!" He cut her off. "I find that, settling things beforehand can save us so much trouble and grief in the first place... Don't you agree, Anabel?" He turned to his niece, who just stared at him, goggle-eyed, and gradually turning red-hot, as Serena adjusted her cardigan, finding herself very worried once again. "You said it yourself - you'd settle for... Justice!"

"What in blazes are you talking about, you old fool?!" Anabel snapped, and Hollace flashed an evil grin and let out a wily laugh.

"I'll have to apologize for what I've said. You're clearly my niece, after all!" Anabel still looked bitter and confused, but the sudden change of tune put a chill up Serena's spine. "You've certainly got the... Tenacity and drive my- our family is known for. You're of good breeding, Anabel, and good families keep their dirty laundry out of the limelight, and keep justice... In the family.

"And why the hell would I?!" Anabel yelled out, clenching the sword hard in her hand, stepping forward towards her uncle, as, once again, Lisa's phone went off, having inadvertently received another subconscious burst of the sort of swearing unbecoming of a girl from a good family.

"You stand to gain much from having me as a friend, not an enemy-"

"YOU KILLED MY FATHER!" Anabel brought the sword back to Hollace's throat, though, this time, Hollace didn't look afraid in the slightest. "You ARE my enemy! If the state doesn't punish you, I will! You'll pay for what-

"You should really shut up, Mr. Schwarzwalder." Serena cut in, trying to defuse the situation. "You're only making your niece even angrier-"

"Oh, she has the right to a little girlish temper tantrum, don't get me wrong." Hollace let out another laugh. "She's earned it, after all."

"If you keep spouting nonsense I'm going to make that little nick you gave yourself look like a paper cut!" Anabel barked, but Hollace took a deep breath, and let the words hang in the air, as he twiddled his mustache.

"But Anabel, you've won!" He said, flashing a coy smile. "Just think about it for a moment. You've got me where you want me - think like a businessman: This is an opportunity for you to profit!"

"I'm not a businessman." Anabel growled, glaring daggers into him.

"Are you an artist, like your father?" Hollace asked, and Anabel held the sword tightly in her hand, eyes staring daggers into her uncle, and she took a deep breath, letting the words hang in the air around them.

Serena flinched - she had to stop herself, but she was quite sure Anabel was about to strike him down, but, to her surprise, she didn't. She looked very close to it. She held the sword tightly in her hands, and her eyes were staring daggers into her uncle, but she held. She just took a deep breath, and let the words hang in the air between them. "I don't know what I am." Anabel admitted, after a long silence. "But I do know I want to be nothing like you."

"Then, this is the opportunity you have to forge your own fate!" Hollace exclaimed, his tone wily - but slightly desperate. "You've been - literally - given a new lease on life, and the world is your oyster! Think about it, Anabel! If I were to go to trial, then, even if I win, you and I would have no business, even as family. However, if you and I came to a... Gentleman's agreement, then I would owe you mu life! And..." He paused, pinching his mustache. "I am no ingrate - I always repay my debts."

"And just what in the world would I ask of you?!" Anabel sarcastically spat out, and Hollace flashed her a wily smile.

"'What in the world,' indeed!" He exclaimed, turning exuberant and enthusiastic, as Anabel turned less angry and more confused. "Anabel, I am rich as Croesus! My whole life I have been a shrewd businessman, and you see the fruits of my labour - now yours to command! If you don't want me around, I could be persuaded to take an... Early retirement, to Monaco, or Singapore, or Cuba - somewhere out of your hair."

Anabel raised her eyebrow a bit, and lowered her sword - a tiny bit. "Was fleeing overseas your original plan?" She asked. "I think I'd still rather have you in jail than at the tables of The Monte Carlo."

"I would hand over all my capital stock of WalderSoft to you!" Hollace kept on talking, while, off to the side, Serena began to look a bit worried. She wanted to speak up, but couldn't string the words together and felt unsure of whether her input would improve things. She didn't see it happening, but if Anabel accepted her uncle's offer... "My accountants are well-versed in tax planning! You would be firmly in control of the family business without having to pay Inland Revenue a single dime!"

"I could have the company's lawyers transfer the shares to me, regardless." Anabel's tone was less angry - and more cold. "You wouldn't even be allowed to hold the capital stock while serving a prison sentence!"

"I'm afraid you're not well-versed in the intricacies of Corporate Law, Anabel." Hollace flashed a smile. "Besides - TAXES, Anabel! If you had the shares forcibly transferred, you'd have to pay that tax in cash you don't have - and what bank would lend a 14 year old girl the money?..." Anabel's eyes flashed wide, and her expression turned somewhere between angry and deeply uncomfortable. "Especially one claiming to be a girl who is well known as having died."

"It can be done!" Serena finally spoke up, nervous and alarmed and trying to keep Anabel from losing her cool - and from taking the Faustian bargain. "We'll call it a favour. I'll talk with my bosses. They'll talk with the accounting and finance people." She flashed a slightly nervous smile. "If not tax planning, then extending credit! Or buying a portion of the shares to give you funds!... Look, Anabel." Serena took a deep breath. "My point being is, I'm willing to stick my neck out for you. I trust you, too."

"You have friends outside your family." Gabriel added, his tone more serious and earnest. "I confess, Anabel, I haven't known you for long, but I'm willing to do what I can as well, and put my own words behind Serena's. I'm a senior - I've been there for years, so my words will have more weight. I can say, with confidence, we at Bathrette are your allies, here."

"And you've got friends in WalderSoft, too!" Lisa piped in, with an upbeat smile, and Anabel raised an eyebrow. "Mrs Blackwell..." She paused for a moment, finding the words suddenly a bit awkward to say. "Had great esteem for your father - and she didn't like his brother very much..." She shot Hollace a harsh look. "She'll help you - and all the people in the studio... Especially the ones who Hollace tried to have replaced with offshorers. Oh, and..." A small grin came onto her face as the thought came to her. "The minority shareholders, too! If they caught wind of what Hollace did, I don't think they'd want control of their investment in the hands of someone who's willing to kill his brother over it."

"They're only offering you a 'could be,' Anabel." Hollace said, adjusting his tie, defiantly ignoring the sword to his throat. "I'm offering a 'definitely.'"

"You tried to kill me, too." Anabel said, less angry, and much more cold. "You sent five hackers to destroy me - only Serena bothered to help me."

"And that was a mistake." Hollace threw his hands up in the air. "But, as I've said, Anabel, you've come out on top, and my fortune is at your disposal! Serena's little gang of toughs all SAY they can offer you support, but I can go beyond that! I can get you things even money couldn't buy!"

"Like what?!" She snapped at him, and Hollace flashed a wily smile.

"Well, do you want to study at Oxford? Or Harvard? Or MIT? BCIT? UCLA?" None of the best universities accept applications from the general public, no matter how wealthy or talented. Not unless..." He let out another laugh. "Someone well connected was willing to vouch for you? Why, just last week I had lunch with Johnson Kerr!"

"Who's that?" Serena barked, and Hollace let out a dry laugh.

"He's the Dean at Granville College, of the University of Cambridge!" He responded. "And he's been lamenting how hard it is to find applicants who truly exemplify the university's values! I'm on good terms with the powerful and influential - my friends would become your friends, Anabel!..." Another long pause, as Hollace pinched at his mustache. "Oh, are you interested in politics?" He cracked another smile. "I know for a fact a few MPs are planning to retire in a few years... Would you say you get along better with Labour, or the Tories?... Oh, don't answer - you don't need to pick sides if you'd rather have power behind the scenes! The Secretary for Home Affairs is a personal friend - a good word, and I'll have you under his wing in no time! If you reconsider going into business, I know several boards of directors expecting a vacancy, who'd love a young mind full of bright ideas! Even right now - you've just begun your first year at Beattley Girls' college, haven't you!? You won't need to worry about tuition or acceptance into student societies! My vast network of allies is at your disposal, and you'll find it much more real than Serena and her gang's empty promises."

"So..." Anabel took a deep breath, still glaring daggers at her uncle, but, the point of the sword began to lower from his throat, as Serena found a lump forming in hers'. "If I keep justice 'in the family' and send you away..."

"As all ladies and gentlemen of good breeding do..." Hollace gave an innocent smile, and Serena fought a powerful urge to intervene. She wanted to yell, 'don't listen to him!' but found her tongue going slack.

"Then you'll give me money?" Anabel asked.

"All the capital I've earned will be yours to do with as you wish!" Hollace's chest puffed up a bit, Anabel's sword arm relaxed, and Serena found a chill going up her spine, her mind racing and wondering how bad things would get if Anabel accepted his offer...

"You'll give me influence?" She took a step forwards, towards him.

"My network of allies and connections are at your disposal!" Hollace smiled, and another nervous bead of sweat ran down Serena's neck.

"You'll give me power?" Anabel took one more step towards him, and Serena wasn't sure what to make of it. She couldn't read what Anabel was thinking. Her pose, body language, the way she glared at Hollace and held her sword... Serena took a deep breath. Anabel looked tense - and angry, and Serena's eyes went wide as her brain put two and two together. She'd seen this before. They were in the real world, but the way Anabel was acting was... How she'd acted when they'd first met, in The Matrix, as she was probing her on her motive for coming - and then, exploded into fury...

"Any position of influence you desire, I will make it happen." Hollace took a deep, relieved breath, and adjusted his tie. His body language had calmed - like a watch spring fully unwinding. From the smile he wore, Serena mused he'd figured he'd convinced her. "You'll find your lenience and mercy command quite the premium, Anabel." His tone cocksure, and beginning to turn much more aggrandizing.

"Well...-!" Everything seemed to slow down, the tension shattering as Anabel's countenance turned viciously angry and bitterly heartbroken, and, as Hollace wasn't expecting - and Serena was - she pulled her sword arm back, winding up for a killing blow, tears leaking from her eyes as she yelled out, "NONE OF THAT'S GOING TO BRING MY DAD BACK, YOU BASTARD!" Hollace's eyes went wide, and he recoiled back, and Serena ran forwards, reaching out to stop her, as Anabel screamed, "DEFEND YOURSELF!" and-

The whole room went pitch black. What nobody - least of all, Anabel - had been expecting was for the soft, orange lamps that lit up her room to suddenly go dark - as did the glow of Serena's cyberdeck, Lisa's tablet, Gabriel's cell phone, and Jules' medical equipment. Everything electrical or computerized in the room had been suddenly disabled, leaving the six of them shrouded by the darkness, snowflakes dancing in the night sky outside Anabel's window.

The darkness brought with it a short period of chaos. Lisa made a little "eep!" noise, and Hollace, from where he was, began to breathe in and out, quickly, deeply, and heavily, emitting what sounded like an odd, deflated scream between gulps of air. Serena, meanwhile, found a confuse, agitated, "waugh!" sound escape her lips, but she composed herself quickly - especially with her good nightvision, and quickly scrambled for the light switch. The small lever was in a decorative, etched brass plate by the door, giving Serena a little view of a forest scene as she flicked it a few times, eventually turning the lights back on. Anabel, who'd been standing there in her hospital gown, still stunned, sword in hand, soon composed herself as well, shaking her head, and saying, "Thank you." and winding her sword arm with a vicious, determined look on her face - and a look in shock in Serena's eyes, as, once again, she found herself rushing to try and hold the ghost girl back from doing something rash. "Now, As I was saying!-"

"Aaaaaaaauuuuuururrrrggggggghjjhhhhh!!!!" Hollace made some odd, pained vocalization, and Anabel - and her sword - stopped, quite confused. Serena's expression went from shocked to puzzled as well, eyes settling on the portly old man, doubled over, clutching his breast, with a goggle-eyed look on his face and bullets of sweat running down his forehead.

"What's wrong with him?" Anabel asked, as Hollace lurched forward, doubled over, an expression of panic on his face, as he struggled to breathe, and Anabel reflexively jumped back as he tried to reach for her and drag her down, a final expression of anger and hatred flashing onto his face before he finally collapsed, face first into the carpet, twitching for a few moments, before going completely still, and everyone watching on with expressions that spanned from confused to alarmed to disturbed.

"What..." Lisa just adjusted her glasses, her tone more confused than anything else. "What happened to him?"

"Well..." Gabriel adjusted his tie, taking a few moments to think... "I'd say something just went wrong with his heart, but..." He cleared his throat, speaking very frankly, and with little gaiety. "It's a bit dramatically timed."

"Well, what do you mean?" Serena raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying she managed to spook him to death with that stunt!?"

"Oooooh." Anabel snapped her fingers. Her demeanour was more neutral - but had a subtle look of triumph on her face, like she'd figured out a difficult math problem. "Right. I forgot Uncle Hollace wears a pacemaker." An uncomfortable silence filled the room like graveyard mist, snowflakes falling outside the bedroom window, as Anabel retrieved the scabbard from where she'd left it on her bed, and slowly put the sword back in.

"So you turned it off?!" Jules broke both his own silence and the one in the room, sounding shocked and reproachful.

"Well, I didn't mean to!" Anabel snapped back, sounding awkward, and a bit guilty. "He sounded like he'd get away with it, so I was going to cut him down, but..." She turned back towards her uncle, motionless on the floor, her expression turning scornful. "That works, as well."

"Oh, what have I done..." Jules needed to sit down on Anabel's bed, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his surgical scrubs. "I thought this might be the next step in human evolution, but I've just created another deadly weapon!" He waxed poetic, concern and guilt on his Londoner's accent. "Is the Cyber-Brain just going to become another A2 bomb!?"

"I'm not a weapon!" Anabel harshly reproached him and crossed her arms. "And it's not my fault that whoever build the damn thing made it connect to the internet!"

"She..." Serena just adjusted her cardigan, an uneasy look on her face. She wasn't quite sure how to take this. On one hand, Anabel had roundly rejected proper, law and order justice. On the other... "Well, she has a point." Serena dryly, unsympathetically replied. On the other hand, Hollace had killed his own brother, and tried to kill all of them, multiple times, and was going to pull out all the stops to get away with everything, and sue her and try to get her fired. In Anabel's shoes, Serena wondered if she'd done the same. As it was, she wasn't exactly going to lose sleep at Hollace being remotely struck down by the person on whom he'd inflicted such an irreversible loss. "Why the hell was his pacemaker internet-connected in the first place?!" She changed the subject, sounding almost passionately indignant, and crossed her arms. "It's an unacceptable security risk."

"Oh, lots of reasons." Gabriel piped in, a bit of levity returning to his words. "Data collection is the big one. Marketing people love it." Serena found a displeased look coming to her face. "You'd be surprised how much a pacemaker can tell you on someone's spending habits. More practically, there's seamless installation of software updates and mobile monitoring, so, if something goes wrong, you can respond to it quicker, but..." He took a deep breath, and fixed his glasses. "You are right about internet connectivity being a security risk, especially for police, soldiers, government officials and-" His eyes darted back towards where Hollace lay on the floor. "Businessmen. More expensive models have shielding and even onboard ICE, and if he'd had one, it might not have worked, but, well... No offence Anabel..." Gabriel cleared his throat. "Your uncle really IS a skinflint."

"Why would I be mad?" She rolled her eyes, and Gabriel laughed a bit.

"I have to admit." Jules butted in. "I am still a bit worried. Anabel, are you going to do..." He cleared his throat. "More of this?"

"I don't plan to." She pouted. "Besides, how is this different from a hacker doing that with a cyberdeck?" Serena nervously fixed her tie.

"It's quicker, for one..." Jules took a deep breath. "Anabel, I must impart to you the importance of restraint! I know Mr. Schwarzwalder was..."

"An asshole who tried to have us killed." Serena said. "Three times."

"A cheap old bastard." Lisa added her perspective.

"A nasty customer." Even Gabriel, whom, Serena had never heard badmouth anyone before he'd met Hollace, put in his two cents.

"A murderer and a thief." Anabel growled, and, tempers flaring up delivered a swift kick to her uncle's side, and, oddly, he seemed to twitch...

"Yes, he was a very unpleasant man." Jules cleared his throat. "But I must insist, as a favour for use of my invention, that you do not do this to anyone else!-"

"Except in self-defence." Serena butted in, a determined look in her eyes, finding something... Instinctive motivating her to speak, here. "If it's to protect yourself, Anabel, then you should use your abilities." She paused, a disturbed twinge in her eye as the uncomfortable memories of last night came over her, the sensation of draining the life right out of Corto's veins... "Within reason." She cleared her throat, and suddenly looked a bit guilty, as she turned to Jules. "I'm sorry - are you fine with me butting in?"

"I..." Jules took a deep breath "Serena, you know I abhor violence, but I suppose, if I ask Anabel to make a promise, it shouldn't put her in danger down the line, so..." He turned back towards the ghost girl, and extended his index finger, a serious look on his face. "Anabel, I ask, in the future you act with reason and not rashness, and to never use your powers for evil! I do not want my work to kick-start a cybernetics arms race!"

"I owe you much, Dr. Elwood." Anabel replied, her tone very solemn and resolute. "To show my thanks, I will accept your demands. I promise to act as you have asked me, and use my cybernetic enhancements as you bid me: only in the cause of good." She smiled, and did a short curtsy, reminding Serena of some dignified princess of a far-off time. "And, Serena." She said, and now, Serena looked a bit embarrassed as Anabel turned towards her - growing worried, as she saw the look of guilt on the ghost girl's face. "I want to apologize." She said.

"What for?..." She raised an eyebrow.

"For trying to kill you." Anabel explained, eyes drifting to the floor, an expression of intense sorrow and remorse on her face. "And chasing you and Lisa out with the security bots. It was... Rash of me to start a fight when I found you were working for my uncle. Having realized you were just as much in the dark as I was, I am sorry we did not speak and come to an agreement sooner." She paused, to take a deep breath. "If there's anything I can do for you to make it up-"

"Oh, no, you don't need to go that far..." Serena took a deep breath, and gave her a warm laugh. "Anabel, you've gone through a lot, and you've helped me out alot already, so why don't we just be friends and let it be?"

Still, Anabel was silent, and looked a bit guilty for a few moments, but then, she looked back up at Serena, a warm smile coming to her face, and-

"I'm sorry to interrupt this touching moment." Gabriel cut in, cracking an odd grin as he pointed down at Hollace. "Anabel, if you change your mind, you COULD turn Hollace's pacemaker back on." He said, and everyone's gaze went back to him, and Serena remembered that old adage of 'three minutes without oxygen... How long had they been talking, again? "At this point, he's definitely going to have serious brain damage, but, still-"

"No, I'm sorry, Gabriel, but I don't think I will." Anabel's expression turned more stern, her gazed focusing on her uncle, on the floor, eyes lidding. "He did ask me to keep justice in the family, and I shall. An eye for an eye." She coldly said, reminding Serena again of an ancient aristocrat, but not one who dallied in balls and salons - Anabel felt more like one who had earned their title with sword and handgonne.

The doors to the ambulance slammed shut with a loud bang, showing the lion-and-caduceus logo of Leonite Medical Solutions, concealing, from prying eyes, the large black body bag into which Hollace Schwarzwalder, late chairman of the WalderSoft corporation, had been loaded into. The whole party - Serena, Lisa, Gabriel, Jules, Anabel, and, newly arrived in a jet black Chrysler New Yorker parked off to their left, Evelyn Blackwell, all watched the paramedic go back around, leaving a trail of bootprints in the snow, climb back into the cabin, and start the ambulance back up. With a roar of the motor, the vehicle peeled off, disappearing into the snowy night, and Anabel watched, with lidded eyes, bundled up in an elegant - and expensive - double-breasted blue woolly coat and a dense, gray scarf.

"Well, that's that." Gabriel adjusted his glasses. His tone matter-of-fact.

"Good riddance." Anabel growled, a flash of choler crawling onto her tone. Even if she'd gotten her justice in the end, he'd stilled killed her father.

"I find myself forced to agree." Evelyn piped up, her tone cold and dour. Her presence here had been Anabel's idea to begin with. They needed someone who could take charge of the situation - but fiercely debated over how much she 'needed to know.' Serena was wary of speaking too loosely, but Anabel was insistent, and wanted to give her father's secretary the whole picture - and Serena felt as though she'd had something else on her mind. "I never liked him - but I never did quite expect him to go this far, either." In the end, Anabel had won out and Mrs. Blackwell had been brought up to speed. She found the revelation that Phil Edinburgh had been Hollace's cats' paw to be very amusing, but the technological means by which Anabel had struck down her uncle were... Less so. She'd been quite surprised - but oddly sympathetic. She did, however, agree with Serena that Anabel's newfound abilities were best kept a closely guarded secret.

"Is everything going to be okay with..." Serena cleared her throat, a more practical problem flashing into her mind as she turned over to Evelyn, and the new chairman. "Him? Won't the cops want to investigate?"

"These things happen." Evelyn sighed. "Like many families of status, the Schwarzwalders pay their medical service providers - and coroners - a premium for their discretion and dutifulness." That just put an odd, uneasy look on Serena's face. "It isn't the first time a 'family problem' has been resolved like this - and it definitely won't be the last."

"I see, then..." Serena took a deep breath that hung in the air. Especially now, it felt a bit odd to be seeing Evelyn... In the flesh, rather than virtually, or via, er, passionate camera footage she struggled to keep out of her mind. She had cut her hair since then, forming it into a sharp, no-nonsense style that terminated just below her jaw, and was wrapped up in a long, black woollen coat that artly concealed her slight plumpness.

"What happens now, then?" Gabriel piped in, running his eyes over the courtyard of Schwarzwalder Manor. It felt a bit uncanny - the cleanup crew, and the falling snow had both done an admirable job of removing the evidence of their scuffle. There was nothing but the crisp, winters' snow, in mounds, piling up on the Jaguar and the various Bathrette trucks, vans, and security sedans the cleanup crew had arrived in, and Serena shivered a bit - from the cold, mind. Her cardigan did help keep the cold off slightly, but she still found herself dearly missing her leather jacket.

"Now, we have to pick up the pieces, and go forward." Evelyn took a deep breath, eyes drifting over to some of the Bathrette guards, standing out in the snow, sipping from thermoses of hot drinks. "After your people are done here, Anabel and I going to have to get down to business. There's lawyers and accountants to call and sort things out, and we're going to hold an emergency shareholder meeting. Tomorrow morning, in all likelihood. She allowed herself small, coy smile. "Because I seem to be the only professional who works late... Although, I suppose you four do, as well."

"Not by choice..." Serena took a deep breath, and got back to brass tacks, and asked, "So, Anabel's going to be the new chairman of the board?"

"If I can help it." Anabel replied, a small, determined smile coming onto her otherwise distant expression.

"She will." Evelyn added, with a short nod. "She is the... late Mr. Schwarzwalder's last living relation. It will take a lot of planning with the estate lawyers and accountants for her to inherit everything smoothly - especially with the tax planning to think of, and there's going to be a lot of paperwork and difficulty with the..." She paused, gaze turning to the horizon, and an odd look coming to Anabel's face, before she sighed, and said, "Miraculous return, Anabel." She said. "I'm just going to pull the bandage off. It's going to take a lot of explaining and fixing things, especially with government records. We all know what you are-"

"What am I?!" Anabel snapped, and crossed her arms, suddenly taking an offended, choleric tone, but Evelyn put a finger to her chin, undaunted, snow falling all around her as she tried to think of how to express it.

"Well, you're Anabel Schwarzwalder, aren't you?" Gabriel said, flashing a warm smile, but Evelyn just, to everyone's surprise, shook her head.

"No, Doctor, lets' call a spade a spade. Anabel. Please don't take offence - I don't mean any. You're unusual. You're a ghost, walking around in a human body. We know you're Anabel Schwarzwalder, and we know you're alive, walking here with us, but to the world, 'Anabel Schwarzwalder' is a girl who tragically died in the crossfire of her father's assassination."

"So..." Anabel broke eye contact, tone sour, arms still crossed, gaze distant and unfocused. "So what?!" She snapped, and Serena found herself worried. Beneath the snappish choler, she could feel a trace of sadness.

"So, it's going to take our lawyers and clerks a lot of time and money to adjust the world to the fact that you're alive." Evelyn exhaled, watching her breath hang in the air. Your father had those in spades, from his hard work and passion. Your uncle stole them, but now they're yours. I don't want you to get me wrong when I say you're a ghost, Anabel. I'm not implying you're something less - it just isn't becoming of either of us to put on pretensions as to what we are.

"Then WHAT am I?!" She yelled out, somewhat exasperated, but a distinct bitterness to her tone that Serena and Lisa both picked up on.

"You're your fathers girl." Evelyn smiled. "I think that's the best way to say it. You came from him - in many ways - and now you're charged with his memory, and his legacy."

A long stillness hung in the air around them. Anabel gradually calmed down, but, she still had a distant look in her eyes. "I wish he was still here."

"And so do I." Evelyn took a deep breath, and stared wistfully into the horizon. "And so does everyone at his studio. He dared to be a visionary in a world of balance sheets." Her tone began to flood with quiet esteem and pride. "He was an inspirational person to work for, and I counted on your father as a very dear friend." Serena and Lisa, very briefly, exchanged a pair of wry glances and awkward smiles, but said nothing. "But, I think if it had to turn out this way, this is how he would have wanted you to be."

"I think I should visit his studio, when everything's done." Anabel said, her tone turning a bit more determined. "To see if they need anything else."

"I think they would appreciate that." Evelyn found another small smile coming onto her face. "Especially after Hollace's motions about having them all laid off and replaced with cheap outsourcers."

"And..." Anabel's expression turned a bit awkward, and pulled at her scarf. "I have something to ask of you, but..." She nervously adjusted her wig. "I don't really know how to say it, but, Mrs. Blackwell, do you like me?"

"In what way?" Evelyn asked. "I don't find you to be unpleasant as a person, if that's what you're asking, but right now, I'm afraid I don't know you all too well - and that means I can't give you a proper answer."

Anabel just raised an eyebrow, and turned over towards her, slowly. "You don't know me?"

"I'm not too familiar with the Anabel standing infront of me right now," Evelyn clarified. "I knew the one who isn't with us quite well, but..."

"I'm..." Anabel's expression looked irate, but at the same time, deeply uncomfortable. Her hands balled into fists, but her eyes were drifting to the snow-covered ground. "I am!... Her?..." A sudden flash of doubt came into her tone, and in her eyes. "Am I?... I am?... Err..."

"You're different." Evelyn replied. "I saw it when we spoke, digitally. You're becoming your own person - if you weren't like that the day Jonas put the finishing touches on you. You took me by surprise - I hadn't expected your temper, or your determination. You have memories and experiences and," She turned back over to the four Bathrette people, with a small grin. "Friends, to call your own. I don't know what else you'd call people willing to go this far to help you, and," She took a deep breath. "Ms. Ramneau, Ms. Klauetzer, Drs. McGarahann and Elwood, you have my thanks for supporting Anabel throughout all of this."

All of them looked quite happy at that. Serena, especially, had a very large, almost embarrassed grin on her face, and found it difficult to make eye contact with either of them. "Well..." She stumbled a bit ,and let out a small laugh. "What are friends for, right?"

"Well, that's sort of the favour I wanted to ask..." Anabel said, a shy look on her face, that turned a bit more serious as she turned back to Evelyn and said, "Mrs. Blackwell," She cleared her throat. "I'd like to keep you on... I'd like you to do for me what you did for my father... Most of it-" She said, a bit carelessly, and realizing her mistake, she just laughed a bit, trying to play it off as a joke, as Serena and Lisa exchanged a more worried look, and Evelyn looked mostly confused. "Sorry, what I mean is, I would like you to be my Principal Secretary as well, and help me manage my affairs as you did those of WalderSoft, and my father's. You were someone my father could have confidence and trust in, and I feel I can trust you as well."

"I will, if you will have me." Evelyn responded, though, her tone sound a bit Contemplative, mulling over Anabel's choice of words, and Serena found herself tugging at her necktie, though, she just cleared her throat, rested her hands, and tried to look more calm and collected.

"Thank you for looking after her then, Mrs. Blackwell." Serena finally decided, with a tender smile, though, her demeanour turned a bit odd, as she looked over to the horizon, trying to think of what else to say...

"Goodbyes are hard, aren't they?" Gabriel said, with a wry tone, and Serena snapped back into reality, an embarrassed expression coming onto her face. "I'm sure Serena wants to say more, and stay longer-"

"-But it's cold, I'm tired, and I've got a mountain of paperwork waiting for me back at my office." Serena finished his sentence with an exasperated smile. "So, I hope you don't take it the wrong way when I say we should go."

"I understand, don't worry..." Anabel turned back towards Serena and her co-workers, now, her friends, and, with a deep breath, and a big, tender smile, said, "So, I hope you guys have a good night, and..." She paused, looking a bit awkward and fidgeting a bit before taking a deep breath, more resolute, and finally yelled out, "Thanks for everything!" Waving goodbye, with more colour and vigour than Serena had seen before, as she waved back, heading for the Jaguar, and a long drive home.

"Call us if you need anything!" Serena said, as she hopped into the drivers' seat, the plush, white leather so inviting and comforting after a long day. Her cyberdeck and bag of tricks and some of Jules' stuff was in the boot, though her and Lisa's luggage would need to be sent back to them in one of the company vans.

"Wait, Serena!" Mrs. Blackwell's expression turned a bit more serious as she called out to her. "We'll need you to return that to our office tomorrow."

"Huh?"

Evelyn's expression turned heavy-lidded. "The car, Ms. Ramneau." She clarified. "It's technically ours, so we'd like it back once you're done with it." Serena looked a bit awkward at that - Evelyn's tone made it quite clear she was being polite, and that 'we'd like it back' was an order.

"Will... Do..." Serena sounded very reluctant, as she closed the driver-side door, and Gabriel, from the passenger seat, snickered a bit. She had to admit, she'd started to think of Hollace's Jaguar as being 'her' car, especially since she'd had to keep it fuelled up out of pocket, but... Serena sighed, disappointed. It was a nice car, and it was a shame to give it up, but, even if Hollace was dead, she supposed it still wasn't hers to keep. Regardless, she had it for one last night, so... Serena smiled. May as well enjoy it. She turned the key, and the Jag roared to life, fuel cells splashing power into the engine, neon green dashboard lighting up like the instrument panel on a fighter jet, wiper blades clearing the dense buildup of snow from her windscreen. As her friends got comfortable, Serena did a quick shoulder check while backing out into the road, hit the clutch and switched from reverse to first, and waving one last time to Anabel and Evelyn before speeding off, leaving two lines in the snow behind her.

Serena leaned back in the driver's seat, finally able to relax, watching the road ahead. There was a long period of silence, with the four of them sitting there, and only the rumbling of the Jaguar's powerplant in their ears. Off in the distance, they could see the silhouettes of other mansions and country retreats, some all lit up, others black for the night, dim outlines in the snowfall. Serena's eyes, and wheels, followed the road signs, lit with luminous bulbs and reflective paint, heading off to the Domes service exit.

Off to her left, like a beacon in the night, Serena could see the glow of what she'd been mentally calling Main Street, the more densely populated part of The Domes, with all the boutiques, charming offices and bathhouses, cafes, restaurants, and hotels were. It was a more... Thoughtful sort of glow than she'd been expecting. It was very clearly different than the overpowering glow of the city, or the glitzy, neon hell of the Metrotown. It felt a bit like those photographs she'd seen of the old world, like staring at some old town somewhere in Europe, lit with a gas-lamp glow, and looking at it was making her- "yaaaaaaaaaaaaawn..."

"Are you sure you should be driving?" Gabriel asked, and Serena snapped back to attention, focused on the road, wearing a sharp grin.

"Don't worry about me." She let out a dry laugh. "I was just thinking...

"What about?" He asked.

"Well..." Serena took her left hand off the wheel for a moment. "I guess how I might miss this, actually."

"Miss what, exactly?" Lisa piped up from the back seat, sounding, and looking completely nonplussed. "Being shot at by mercenaries?"

"No, everything else!" Serena sighed, rolling her eyes. "Lisa, we DID get to stay in a luxury hotel for this job."

"Yeah..." Lisa calmed down just a bit, reflecting on it. "It was pretty nice, I guess. I just wish it hadn't been a ploy to keep us somewhere Hollace could keep an eye on us - and where the mercs could get to us..."

"That was a bad part, but everything else was nice." Serena flashed a wistful smile. "I think what I'll miss the most is having real coffee every day."

Gabriel looked over at Serena with a wily, quizzical smile, and she began to - instinctively - look a bit irritated. "So, he put you two up in a luxury hotel, gave you a sports car to use, and let you have real coffee..." He began laughing a bit "So, was Hollace a bad boss?" He asked, sarcastically.

"If someone tries to kill me," Serena groaned, and rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't put up with it for real coffee and a company Rolls-Royce."

"Yeah, screw him!" Lisa crossed her arms. "Honestly, I'm just ashamed I didn't see this coming. I didn't like him too much."

"It's always easy to see these things in hindsight." Serena sighed, as she merged onto a broad, four-lane road, lit up with smooth, velvety orange streetlamps, signs overhead guiding her to the exit. "He looked like a normal crooked businessman from the outset. The kind we deal with alot."

Another uneasy silence fell over the car, and soon, that uncanny effect happened again, where, Serena could see ahead of her what looked like a tunnel drilled into the sky itself, fast approaching, and, as though with a snap of her fingers, she'd exited the false winter night of The Domes and was back in the service tunnel, lit up with dim, orange lights, the four whole lanes more or less empty this time of night, and soon enough they'd crossed the threshold again, out onto the bridge over the Chenier Canal, with the overpowering Neon of St. Petersburg ahead of them...

Admittedly, before she could be in the city proper, she'd needed to stop at the bridge checkpoint, for what she sincerely hoped would be the last time she and everyone else would have to provide enough paperwork and identification to satisfy the incredibly obstinate rent-a-cop manning the fortified gatehouse. For what, exactly, anyways? She mused. It hadn't seemed to stop The Ecstasy Battalion from getting in twice - and out once.

Finally, the guard had deigned to let them through, and Serena sped off, escaping off the bridge, and back into the city. Her view was filled with towering buildings, neon lights, and illuminated billboards, light reflecting off the statues and worked into the architecture, and, of course, reflecting off the piles of snow that littered the streets. The streets were filled with noise, the murmur of people going by, music pouring from clubs and establishments, and all the cars and motorbikes the Jaguar had to share the road with, going off on business - and, more likely, leisure, and Serena found herself rolling the window down and taking a deep breath, taking it all in. "It's nice to be back..." She mused aloud.

"We haven't really ever left, though." Gabriel replied, a slight bit of teasing to his tone.

"And we've been here and back few times on investigations, remember?" Lisa added, tone dripping with sarcasm. "And to pick up Gabriel and Jules and go to the hospital and get those machine guns, and-'

"I get it..." Serena groaned. "I'm just saying it's nice to be back on our own terms. Not being on the job." Though, her train of thought was interrupted when Serena spied a red light ahead, and needed to stop... Infront of another half dozen cars, and letting out a groan, and Gabriel flashed a wily grin from the 'shotgun' seat. "Okay, maybe not everything's nice about it." Serena conceded, rolling her eyes. "I know there's a lot NOT to like, but it feels like we're coming home from a nice vacation."

"Nice aside from being shot at." Lisa added. "And lied to the whole time."

"Yeah, aside from that." Serena replied. "But we got to stay in a nice hotel, go sightseeing... Sort of, meet new and interesting people, make new friends, make - and kill - new enemies, drive around in a Jaguar, and solve a murder." A cheerful, if sarcastic smile came onto her face. "It's been as fun as a vacation as any."

"And we're all alive to talk about it." Gabriel said, and Serena took in a deep breath of the winter's air as the traffic advanced, just a bit.

"That, we definitely are..." She responded, a relaxed look coming over her. "I haven't really had the time to think about it, since, with Anabel there's been so much going on."

"And I think you're getting used to it." Gabriel added, and Serena raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" She asked, and Gabriel adjusted his eyeglasses.

"You've been on the Specials for, what, three-ish months, now?" Gabriel asked. "It's not enough time to get completely jaded, but I think you're settling into this new routine of life-or-death experiences a bit well."

"No," Serena just shot him a harsh look. "I think I was just a bit more worried about the rest of you, and about Anabel." She said. "Do you guys think she'll be alright after this?"

"I don't think there's anyone better we could have left her with." Lisa said from the backseat.

"I felt her honesty." Jules, who'd been quite silent, and gave Serena the impression he was decompressing, piped up.

"And, it's better to leave her to her own devices, anyways." Gabriel said, turning a bit more serious. "She's... Well, now I'm unsure what to call her. Ghost, cyborg... Odd girl. But behind all that she's still a kid. She's gotta grow up and develop and I think we've put her on the right path for all that."

"Yeah..." Serena said, leaving that hanging in the air. The traffic failing to let up, she reached down and broke the silence and turned on the Jag's radio, changing the station a few times until she could hear the soothing sounds of the piano coming through the speakers, drowning out the city noise under the gentle caresses of ivory, and letting her recline back, into the drivers' seat, unbothered by everything - until Gabriel piped up.

"Serena, what IS this?!"

"It's movement 2 of Robert Schumann's Opus 22 sonatas." She answered, with that good ear of hers. "It's not my favourite of his, but-"

"No, this is the music they play at the old folks home." Gabriel dryly responded, bringing his hand over towards the dial before Serena, quick on the uptake, slapped it away as she would the hands of an irritating little brother from a computer keyboard, who'd just learned what 'alt+f4' does.

"Keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Schwarzwalder!" She joked, and Gabriel erupted into raucous laughter, and she added. "I'm driving, okay?"

"That means you get to pick the radio station?!" Gabriel flashed a playful smile and a heavy-lidded look, and Serena joined him in laughing.

"Yeah." She poked back. "I'm driving, so we'll listen to cultured music. I'll listen to whatever hippie stuff you like when you're driving."

"I don't really mind it." Lisa leaned back in her seat, though, Serena could feel the barest hints of disappointment on her tone. "It would be nice if you could put on something more fun, though."

"Like what?"

"Uh, I dunno." Lisa shrugged her shoulders. "Top 40 stuff, maybe-?"

"I thought you had better taste than that, Lisa." Gabriel said, and the redhead looked a bit shocked.

"I'm not playing top-40 crap." Serena dismissed with a sly, sarcastic grin, while Lisa crossed her arms. "I thought you were cool, Lisa!"

"I am cool!" She vehemently responded, leaning in towards the drivers' seat with a fighty look in her eyes. "I'm not an acid-eating hippie," Gabriel looked away, with a guilty smile. "Or a freaking grandmother!"

"Hey!" Serena took a bit of offence at that, and Lisa flashed a coy smile.

"Come on, Jules!" Lisa turned over to him, and his eyes sharpened and turned more attentive as she poked him with her elbow and gave him a coy look. "Back me up on this. Popular stuff is popular for a reason, right?"

"Marketing." He said, before going back to gazing out the window, leaving Lisa in the dirt, a bit displeased. "That's the reason, Lisa. I'm not a fan of classical music but I think it's good for the soul to broaden your horizons." Lisa groaned, crossed her arms, and sulked in the back seat.

"I'm surrounded by hipsters!" She exclaimed, and both Serena and Gabriel lost what little composure they had left and erupted into raucous laughter. Even Jules snickered a bit, and Lisa couldn't suppress a dry smile.

"Maybe I should get you one of those underground sampler disks for Christmas, Lisa." Gabriel's laughter trailed off a bit more, and she rolled her eyes and smile-pouted. "We'll make a music connoisseur out of you yet!"

"Oooohhhh... Right." Serena took a deep breath of air, looking a bit embarrassed, as the Jaguar inched forward, the traffic clearing out, bit by bit. "I actually managed to forget. It's Christmas..." An embarrassed look came onto her face. "And I haven't bought anyone anything... And I promised my dad I'd visit..."

"Well," Lisa shrugged her shoulders. "There's always New Years."

"Which, I believe, a certain commando promised to take us out for, if we survived the shootout." Gabriel butted in, and an awkward, slightly irritated look crawled onto Serena's face. "And we certainly did." He added, with an innocent-looking smile, and Serena groaned.

"I just said we'll HAVE a party." She curtly replied, with a sigh.

"It'll be more fun to go out for new years', though." Lisa said, and she tried her coquettish smile on Serena, but since they were out of traffic, and she needed to focus on the road, it was less effective than she'd hoped.

"I didn't say anything about taking you guys out," Serena said, trying to retake control of the situation. "or, for that matter-"

"Where should we go, then?" Gabriel cut her off, as Serena's eyes went wide, the engine roaring in her ears, and she began to look a bit worried.

"I was thinking Basel's... Although..." Lisa adjusted her glasses, looking a bit thoughtful. "I dunno. It might be a bit too stodgy and boring."

"Sailor Jones' has a good view of the fireworks." Gabriel suggested.

"That'll be packed on New Years' Eve, then." Jules added his two cents, pulling his eyes away from the windows. "I haven't been in Saint Pete too long, I'm afraid, but Jeremy, I think Concealed defence solutions-" He said, and the light flicked on in Serena's head. That's what he did... Although, it still didn't say much - and there was a bigger problem brewing behind her. "Anyways, He was sayin' The Cordite was THE place to be-"

"He was messing with you, Jules. Hazing noobs is kind of his thing." Gabriel cleared his throat. "The Cordite's a rough spot - the sort of place you go looking for trouble - or, you ARE trouble. It's right ontop of one of the entrances to The Metrotown, even.

"What's that?" Jules raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, God, don't remind me." Lisa said. "It's this huge, interconnected, abandoned system of train tunnels and shopping malls under the city, that's been turned into this huge playground for gangsters and mercs and-!"

"Are you guys deciding this for me?!" Serena finally broke the spell, silencing the three of them, clenching the steering wheel and, awed, by their audacity, and very badly irritated by their audacity.

"Yeah." Gabriel admitted, with precisely zero shame.

"That's what friends do!" Lisa let out a sly laugh, and Serena just groaned. "We've gotta get you out of your shell somehow, Serena!"

"I..." She had to admit, Lisa had her there. She had been making such a show about being more social and being less cooped in these days... "I meant on my own terms! Look, lets' talk more about this over dinner."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Dinner?" Everyone looked curious at that.

"I'm hungry." Serena bluntly explained, with a heavy-lidded expression. "I think the last time I ate was a few hours before the shootout..."

"Not exactly in a hurry to start typing that report, huh?" Gabriel flashed a smile, and it was Serena's turn to look away with a guilty look on her face.

"That too." She admitted. "I think I need to sleep on it. And the longer I can delay having to explain why we went so far off the rails, the better."

"So." Gabriel adjusted his tie, and turned his head back towards the road, and its glittery neon lights and statues and gargoyles ahead of them. A whole city of possibilities opening up. "Where do you guys want to go?"

"Eighth Basket!" Lisa piped up from the backseat, raising an arm in her enthusiasm. "They do a half-off burgers special, if you come with a group."

"Burgers are kind of the same everywhere you go, though." Jules said. "I've heard good things about this Chinese place called Wei's Garden..."

"Is this being decided for me, again?!-" Serena cut them both off, an irritated smile coming onto her face. "Come on!..."

"Well, you haven't said anything." Gabriel replied, very matter of fact, and Serena needed to take a deep breath. "I'm cool with anything, so why don't you put your hat in the ring on this?-"

"I'm calling it in!" Lisa suddenly interrupted, and Serena raised an eyebrow, before her eyes went wide, and she remembered that promise she'd made so long ago. Back when this had all begun, she'd gotten Lisa's assistance through their bonds of friendship - and a promise, and Serena's expression turned heavy-lidded, almost disbelieving, and she locked up, going silent for a few moments before...

'Snrk...' It started as a subdued snicker, before it increased in pitch to the point where Serena was in the throes of cathartic, relieved, hyena-like laughter. Yes - indeed, she'd promised to buy her friend dinner, but hadn't really considered she'd call it in so soon - or, that she'd set it up for Lisa so perfectly... "Fine, Fine..." Serena relented, after calming down. "We'll go for burgers - my treat." She took a deep breath, unable to dispel the wide, tender smile from her lips. "I kinda feel like burgers anyways," She admitted. "After all that cozy upper class living, real coffee, fluffy beds, I think I need to cleanse my palette." She joked, and rolled her eyes.

Although, truth be told, she would miss it. Especially the coffee... Serena could practically feel that delicious, earthy, rich taste on her tongue... Her hands grasped the steering wheel even harder. She'd need to buy another one kilo bag of the good stuff, and patiently ration it - it cost her a week's salary, after all... She took a deep breath, and smiled. Tomorrow. She could just enjoy tonight... With her friends.

The morning's sun in her eyes was an uncanny feeling, Anabel realized. It took her a second to internalize what it was, as she lay there, eyes still closed, feeling that harsh, yet... Odd glare on her face. The sleep slowly began to exit her body, and Anabel found herself slowly coming to, stirring beneath the covers, breathing in, hands rising up out of the covers to rub the sleep from her eyes. It was an... odd experience, she mused. A strange adjustment, yet-

"Good morning, young lady." Came a prim, orderly voice from her right, tuned slightly by age, and Anabel's eyes shot open and flashed into a momentary panic, quickly sitting up and displacing the covers, revealing the plain, sky blue nightgown she wore, and turning to look at the lady standing by her bed, and, with a few deep breaths, she composed herself and came to her senses, waking up fully, and feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Good morning, Mrs. Jamesson..." Anabel paused for a moment, and, with great haste, snatched the blonde wig from her bedside table and quickly put it on and made herself presentable. She recognized the doughty-looking older lady with a black waistcoat, long black skirt, and graying brown hair as the governess Mrs. Blackwell appointed to manage her household - on very short notice. She took a deep breath, and surveyed the room - her room. Everything was as she'd expected it to be, yet... Anabel found herself fidgeting with her dress a bit. Everything was the same - her bed, her stuffed animals, her wardrobe, her trophy cabinet, her sword collection, but, bathed in the radiant, golden light of the morning sun, it seemed oddly unfamiliar - and especially... Odd, to be seeing it with her own eyes...

"Your breakfast is waiting, young lady." The governess dutifully said, bringing Anabel back to reality, and putting a slightly embarrassed look on her face. "Shall I have it sent up-?"

"No! No! It's fine!..." Anabel let out an awkward laugh. "I'll come down to eat it..." She said, gradually pulling herself out of bed, an unsteady look coming over her as she felt the odd sensation of shifting weight around, putting a foot on the carpet and feeling the pile tickle her skin...

"Is something the matter?-" Mrs. Jamesson asked, with a bit of concern, and Anabel fidgeted again, and looked away.

"Everything's fine..." She took another deep breath. It didn't make the governess look any less concerned, but, she dutifully adjusted her necktie and nodded her head. She knew it was her job, but Anabel still had to admit, it felt.. Odd. "I'd.. Like to dress myself, so, if you'd please..."

"Certainly, young lady." The governess gave a short curtsy, and, without fuss or comment, went right out the door and closed it behind her and finally left Anabel alone with her thoughts, and she was able to take a deep sigh, and sit back down on her bed, bathed in the warm glow of sunrise. She didn't have much time to really mull things over after waking up and... She frowned at the memory. Dealing with her fratricidal uncle, and saying goodbye, and then everything she and Mrs. Blackwell had to organize in the dead of night, with mounds of paperwork, and dozens of phone calls and emails. Part of it was the provision of domestic staff to the manor. Much as she'd wanted to, Mrs. Blackwell was a busy woman and couldn't look after Anabel like her...

As the thought crept onto her, an apprehensive look came to Anabel's face, and she sulked a bit, head in her hands. Like her parents could. A bitter, uncomfortable laugh escaped her mouth. Evelyn had a son. She'd asked. It hadn't needed to come up before and thinking back Anabel realized she'd sort of regretted asking because it made things a bit awkward and might've been an overreach. His name was Thomas and he was turning ten this coming year and had his father, Charles Blackwell's eyes and that made Anabel very relieved. He was a bit of a troublemaker at school and liked comic books and loved his mom and even in spite of the school thing... The uncontrollable bitter laughter began to pick up in pitch. Evelyn had said he was good boy with a big heart and...

Finally, she composed herself, and shook her head. She'd allowed her thoughts to wander someplace she... Kind of didn't want to go. Anabel just took a deep breath, and found herself falling back down onto the bed and stared at the ceiling of her four-poster. Mrs. Blackwell had enough on her plate and it'd be selfish of her to demand more attention and besides, she was a rich girl and that meant she could have people run her household so, it was fine. Evelyn had wanted a larger staff, but Anabel insisted on the essentials: A cook, a maid, the gardener (who'd been on staff already, for a while) and a governess to manage everything... The point being, she didn't have much time to reflect and take in any of what had happened. It was all... New. Except it wasn't - and it was making her feel a bit uneasy. She knew where she was. The Domes. 24 Stuart Road. Her father's... Now her house. What everyone had called Schwarzwalder Manor. She'd seen it, in pictures, through camera footage, and in her memories...

Anabel touched to her head. Memories. She could close her eyes, and picture half-remembered, yet vivid scraps of memory. Running down the halls, playing in the parlour room, waking up... Hundreds and hundreds of times in this room, but... She opened her eyes, and looked around bedroom once again. She knew for a fact she'd woken up only here twice before, and yet... She fidgeted with her dress some more, and needed to take a deep breath, forcing herself to sit up, and finally to stand once again, and look into the view of the snowy morning landscape outside her window. Yet, she felt she'd been here many, many times before - even if she knew she hadn't.

Her gaze turned to the trophy cabinet opposite her bed, and she found herself approaching it, and looking in. It was stacked with various awards, mostly for junior high fencing competitions, but there were a few academic awards breaking up her otherwise one-note legacy. Anabel found self opening the door and, without thinking, pulling one of the trophies out. A silver statuette of an elegant fencer and her blade, and read off the inscription: "SJAF Winter 2067 Middle-Schoolers' Girls Fencing Tournament, Second Place: Anabel Schwarzwalder." She stared at it for awhile. She remembered how she got it. The murmur of the crowd, the stark lights of the arena overhead. The girl who'd been her opponent. The name eluded her, but her performance hadn't; she'd done fairly well in the tournament so far but her footwork and positioning were a bit weak and Anabel had used that to overpower her and score a win. Anabel remembered the crowd had been quite riled up by it.

She also remembered why she only got second place. The last match of the tournament was against someone she actually knew. Elizabeth D'Laumet. She and her went to the same middle school, and were both on the fencing team. Elizabeth came from very old money and Anabel's family were relatively new money. She had mousy brown hair and her vision wasn't the best but she'd been too proud to wear glasses. Anabel had golden blonde hair and 20/20 vision. Of course, they'd bickered. A lot. Anabel remembered the feelings of frustration at school, the wry smile on Elizabeth's face, the snide remarks couched in compliments and passive-aggressive gestures they'd exchanged. She also remembered how hard she'd fought.

Anabel had considered Elizabeth to be roughly on her level before that but she'd been forced to reevaluate her opinion. Elizabeth fought like a girl possessed and Anabel remembered giving ground early and being on the back foot for a while before she'd finally lost the match, forced to concede that Elizabeth was the better fencer. She remembered the spectacle. The way Elizabeth turned to the crowd and bowed. What puzzled her was she didn't remember how it made her feel. Maybe it was something she'd blocked. Maybe, in truth, she'd felt nothing - it was just a match, after all. She remembered her father trying to cheer her up after the fact.

A small, wistful smile came onto her face, as she gazed out the window. "I'm fine..." She repeated the words aloud. "I'm not mad." She'd said that dozens of times. He'd came out to watch her and she hadn't won and she really wasn't mad but her father kept trying to cheer her up and told her how great she did and how he was proud of her. The trophy began to quiver in her hands. He'd said that he knew she'd beat Elizabeth next year and then he'd taken her out for ice cream... Anabel quickly put the trophy back and locked the cabinet and turned away, sealing the memories behind a sturdy glass panel. It was... Uncanny. She knew none of it had happened to her, personally, but it all felt so... Real. The rush of excitement. The tender smile on her father's face....

Anabel took a deep breath, and focused on her wardrobe. She... just had a lot on her plate, she mused. She'd get used to this - it was all new but soon it'd become normal and she'd just go on with her life. She found her gaze drifting back to the door, mind wandering a bit... Was she acting weird? Would her staff think she was weird?... She wondered a bit they'd ask, but then Anabel shook her head and realized it was a stupid question. They wouldn't. They were the help. No matter how weird she was, asking would be a breach of duty. It would just be, 'Yes, young lady,' or 'yes, madam,' or whatever. Still... Anabel groaned. They would talk among themselves - and she had a busy day today, so it would be good to get her day started.

She threw open the wardrobe, and threw off her nightdress, pulling it overhead and carelessly threw it onto the bed, looking at her exposed body in the wardrobe's mirror, unable to shake the uncanny feeling. She was more... Slender than she remembered. Less athletic. Her face was... Subtly different. She took a step back, examining her - almost- naked form. The white underpants were the same, but everything else felt subtly wrong... Anabel turned away, trying to wipe the uncomfortable look from her face, and just focus on clothing herself.

She was going to shower after breakfast, so, for the time being she just put on a brasserie, trying to keep her mind off how it fitted... Subtly wrong on her, and slipped into a comfortable, informal sitting gown she'd had. A dull, bluish green, loose fitting dress. The sort to not wear around the house. Not too frilly, but... She pulled it against herself. It still felt a bit loose. Had she been a bit chubbier?... Well, maybe she'd had a bit more muscle mass - she was a fencer, after all... Or, was her body type a bit subtly different entirely?... Anabel fell down onto her bed again, watching the ceiling with a restless look in her eyes. Was she fooling herself? She... Anabel... The other one!... Was that the right thing to call her? The other girl... The...

"ARGH!" Anabel violently shook her head. The word in her head. Four letters, starts with 'R', rhymes with a certain greenish blue colour. She didn't want to say it. She threw herself off the bed and fixed her wig and breathed in, and out, deeply. Calm down... Cool off... She fidgeted with the dress a bit, and paused to think, before a resolved look on her face came onto her face, and she turned to the door. "I think I'm just hungry..." She mused aloud, laughing a bit - and wondering if talking to herself meant she was cracking up... Although, maybe she would feel better after having something to eat - and, of course, Mrs. Blackwell would be expecting her, and she couldn't just dilly-dally up here, lost in her own thoughts forever...

"And after that, you're due with Mrs. Annedette, The Dean, to discuss your readmittance to Beattley..." Mrs. Jamesson adjusted her necktie, and read off another entry from her dataslate. "Then, you're due to meet with Mrs. Alphonse, from Bathrette Beautronics, to discuss payment for the bill your, er, late uncle accumulated. After that, Mr. Wesel - our Chief Financial Officer, will get you up to date on WalderSoft's financial position..."

"Mmh Hmm." Anabel non-committally vocalized, between slow bites of egg. She wasn't really listening as her governess went over her itinerary for the day. Everything was meticulously planned. Everything pencilled in. Her people... She paused. It felt odd to think of them as being 'her people.' She felt reluctant to think of WalderSoft as anything but her father's company.

"And, after that, we'll break for lunch..." Mrs. Jamesson said. "Does that work fine for you, Anabel?"

"Yesh..." Anabel replied, between a bite of crumpet.

"It's impolite to talk with your mouth full, young lady." Her governess shot her a harsh look, and Anabel found an awkward expression coming over her, but played along. She chewed, swallowed, had a drink of orange juice and apologized, though her mind was elsewhere. She looked around the dining hall, wondering if her father ever had enough guests to fill every seat. Right now, it was just her, at the end of the table, and Mrs. Jamesson, on her right. She doubted it - if they invited every single member of the Schwarzwalder family, they might manage it.

It might be a bad idea to do now, though, from the state everything was in. The whole room was still scarred from last night's shootout. The shell casings and blood had been cleaned up by the Bathrette-men, and a great white tablecloth artly concealed most of the damage to the table itself, but most of the silverware was missing, the walls were littered with holes, most of the chairs were gone, and, despite the judicious use of duct tape, the bullet holes in the windows were letting in a draft from the winter morning outside. Anabel found her eyes drifting to the view, the false sun now fully in it's element, against a clear blue sky, shining down on fluffy bales of snow, as she tried to put into words how the manor felt. Oddly empty, she decided. Almost abandoned... A bitter smile came to her face. Like she and her staff were just ghosts, playing out their parts long after the living had departed from this place. It made her feel ashamed. Like a spoiled brat. She'd fought so hard for this place, and now that it was hers, she found she didn't really like it.

"Is everything to your satisfaction, young lady?" Mrs. Jamesson asked, with a mote of concern, and Anabel looked a bit shocked - and guilty, as she realized she'd been spacing out and pushing her eggs around with a spoon. Fried eggs, buttered crumpets, a slice of back bacon, and a glass of orange juice. Everything a growing girl needs...

"Its fine, its fine..." Anabel cut another bite of egg with her spoon and put it in her mouth, and, in deference to her social station - and not wanting to disappoint her governess - chewed thoroughly, and swallowed. Her mind did wander a bit, and she found the words, "The yolk's a bit hard, though..." thoughtlessly escaping her mouth.

"Over hard isn't your preference?"

"Well, its fine..." Anabel replied, still a bit dazed. "I just like the yolk a bit runny, that's all..."

"My deepest apologies." Mrs. Jamesson cleared her throat, and stood up from her chair, with all the poise and elegance a proper lady should. "I was informed that 'over hard' was your preference for eggs, but it would appear I have been mistaken." She said, and it took Anabel a few moments to process that, but when her cybernetically enhanced brain connected the dots, her eyes widened in shock, and she dropped the knife and spoon onto her plate, and shivered.

"Its impolite to make noise with your cutlery in such a melodramatic fashion." Mrs. Jamesson scolded her, as she walked over to where Anabel was sitting, and reached to take her plate. "Nonetheless, I shall have the eggs sent back, and the cook will redo it to your-"

"Dont!..." Anabel snapped, a sudden flash of choler coming to the fore as she tore the plate from the governess' hands, and Mrs. Jamesson looked shocked, and Anabel realized her mistake and quickly looked away, with a very guilty, very awkward expression on her face. "I apologize..." She said, and took a deep breath. "There's no need to send it back, I'll just eat it like this..."

"If..." Mrs. Jamesson cleared her throat, adjusted her necktie, and slowly went back to where she was sitting."If you insist, young lady." She looked a bit stern, and nonplussed. "...And a proper lady does not speak in such a way."

"I'm sorry. I understand..." Anabel's eyes drifted down, over the tablecloth, and onto the half-eaten meal on her plate. Mrs. Jamesson cleared her throat and went back to explaining her schedule and now Anabel was completely tuning her out, mind somewhere else, as she pushed the eggs around... She suddenly didn't feel hungry. The eggs. Her eyes focused on the solid, yellow yolks, under a thin film of white. Over hard meant it was flipped over and cooked until it was solid all the way through and that was the way... She took a deep breath, and turned back to the window, suddenly not wanting to look at eggs anymore. The way... Other Anabel liked it?...

A few names and occupations and organizations went by her ears, as she began to space out again. Some were strange to her, others familiar. She kept hearing Mrs. Blackwell (never 'Evelyn' ) and... Her company, (Mrs. Jamesson kept saying 'your company.') WalderSoft, and... Anabel found herself nibbling idly on a bit of crumpet. It felt painful to hear. It wasn't her father's company anymore... She took a deep breath. Try to keep cool, she told herself. It had been her father's dream... She felt the spoon and knife begin to shake in her hands. It had been his, but wasn't anymore... Her eyes drifted down, and Anabel, despite her attempts to steady herself, felt her composure suddenly snap and she rocketed up out of the chair and dropped her cutlery and planted her hands down on the surface of the table with an audible 'BANG!' disturbing the crockery and making Mrs. Jamesson stop dead in her tracks, eyes wide in shock, and Anabel found a restless look coming over her.

"Young lady!-"

"I know, that wasn't proper of me." Anabel cut her off, anticipating the lecture, a conflicted look on her face, and an odd, uneasy smile on her lips. "But... I... I have to..."

"Have to what?" Mrs. Jamesson asked, and Anabel fidgeted with her dress, and her eyes turned evasive and her smile turned a bit guilty...

"I need to... Use the little girls' room." She said, and regretted it. It was an awful lie - but the only thing that came to mind. Anabel wore a smile but underneath it she was kicking herself for being such a moron and knew her governess would call her out and be disappointed and say a proper lady doesn't make such terrible excuses to-

"I understand..." Mrs. Jamesson adjusted her necktie, and Anabel flinched, taking a deep breath as an awful feeling of guilt crawled into her stomach like black bile. Mrs. Jamesson looked disappointed. She could tell Anabel had lied - a blatant, unintelligent childish little fib, but rather than the lecture Anabel expected, she just said, "I'll have your breakfast covered, young lady."

Anabel stood there, staring awkwardly at her governess for a few moments, and then it was as though a fey spell over her broke and, with a startling lack of etiquette, she turned and broke into a sprint, racing out of the dining room as quickly as her slender legs would take her, escaping out into the hall and kicking herself. Why?! She asked herself. Why did you... Why did you WANT her to call you out!?... It was an odd thing to suddenly realize, but... The memory came to her, as she ran down the twisting halls of Schwarzwalder Manor. An image of her father, with a stern look on her face. She remembered a guilty, cloying feeling, and being unable to look him in the eye. She'd done something bad but... Anabel groaned, shook her head, and turned another corner, swearing under her breath as she realized she couldn't remember exactly what it was, but the point being she'd tried to keep it from her father but he'd found her out and...

Anabel breathed in deeply, in, and out, racing down the manor's halls with an odd, melancholer look in her eyes, visibly struggling to compose herself. Her father had called her out on the lie and he'd given her a long, stern lecture and... She found a bitter laugh escaping her lips, composure loosening a bit. Her father had called her out on the lie... She found herself slowing to a stop in the manor's foyer, catching her breath, the curtains pulled aside to reveal, the cool, crisp winter's day outside her windows. The blue sky, the cool, silken, pure snow, the bitter, yet refreshing bite of the, winter's winds...

"Ah." A new voice. Rough, but feminine, off to her left, and Anabel turned and saw two things she hadn't noticed on her way in. For one, one of the security drones that hadn't been shot to pieces was moved, podium and all, to the foyer. For two, its armour was being polished by the maid - a slender, tomboyish looking young woman with green eyes and short, messy black hair, in a requisite heavy black dress and apron, wearing an expression that went from surprised to a bit awkward, before snapping into reality, doing a short curtsy, and saying, "Good morning, my lady."

There had been a bit of unease in her face and tone, dispelled when Anabel just said, "Good morning" and walked right by, leaving the maid to her chores - and feeling a bit of quiet satisfaction at hearing a sigh of relief, as she went to the front door, undid the lock, and opened it. Just a crack. Just enough to let in the crisp, winter winds and sharp winter sunlight. Anabel closed her eyes, took in a deep breath of fresh air and found a smile coming to her face, feeling the ice bite her cheeks and nose. It was a cold day in the domes. A cold, refreshing day, somewhere else, where the terror of scheduling and the uncomfortable echoes of the past would leave her by... Anabel opened her eyes, and opened the door a bit more, peering out into what she'd had a bit of trouble thinking of as 'her' front yard, and decided she wanted to go.

She took a deep breath, and sighed, a bit disappointed - partially in herself. Go WHERE exactly? She mused. Lost in thought, her eyes drifted over to the horizon, where crisp white met pale blue. She couldn't think of anything specific... She sighed. She didn't know where, but she just wanted to go. That would be a problem - despite being rich, getting anywhere would be difficult. Buses didn't run in The Domes, and there were only two cars out in her yard, with a light dusting of snow from last night. Mrs. Blackwell's jet-black Chrysler had departed, and in it's place, was Mrs. Jamesson's Leyland Mini Cooper. A stylish, little duck-egg blue hardtop convertible that was... Anabel sighed. A bad idea. The governess had the keys, and definitely wouldn't hand them over - even if she asked. Besides, she didn't even have her license yet. The red Ford pickup beside it, the gardener's vehicle, was a bad idea for the same reason. Anabel just groaned - and, mulling over it, asking him for a ride was probably a bad idea, too...

Her eyes went wide as the realization hit her. It was a silly idea. It was also definitely something a 'spoiled brat' did, and probably a mean thing to ask, but... An odd smile crawled onto her face. Well, they WERE friends now, right?... Even if she was busy - the worst she could say was 'no...' Wordlessly, Anabel darted from the door leaving it open behind her (the maid silently picking up her slack, with a perplexed expression) and rocketed up the stairs to the second floor, tracing a route she'd never walked but knew by heart: left turn, right, right, another left, go straight... She let a nervous laugh escape her mouth. This is a stupid idea, Anabel, she told herself. Be a good girl and go back, she told herself - but disobeyed. making another right and going straight, the sight infront of her more familiar, and, finally at the end of the hall, she turned, opened her bedroom door and cloistered herself in her room again, slamming the door behind her.

Ignoring the trophy cabinet as best she could, she stormed to the wardrobe and threw it open, rifling through it and taking out the blue, stylish coat she'd worn last night, a pair of thick, white cotton stockings, blue mittens, long, gray knitted scarf, and matching blue winter boots, and threw all the articles she'd planned to wear today to one side as she dug deeper into her closet, trying to find something she'd never seen with two eyes, but knew where and what it was... Her hand clasped around a solid object, a smile coming to her excitable - almost maniacal face, and she freed her hand from the pile of socks and pulled out a cell phone. A fairly new model; sleek, chic, and trendy, with a shiny chrome backing, and a thin, elegant case - so thin and elegant it lacked any of the features power users liked, such as a flip-out keyboard or a headphone jack. The screen also had a crack from when she'd dropped it onto concrete trying to pull it from her bag and eat a popsicle at the same time... At least... She sighed. That's what she remembered as having happened - even if she never experienced it...

Anabel pressed the power button, on the bottom centre of the device, and it flashed to life, displaying the login screen - her screensaver a charming little photograph of the city and a friend... Well, 'friend' might've been a bit strong - it was someone she'd had to entertain while their fathers did business. Her name was Jeanette and Anabel didn't bother remembering her last name and both of them were blondes but Jeanette was taller and had freckles but Anabel felt she was prettier, anyways, but none of it mattered since she was pulling some cutesy, stupid pose infront of a train station and... Anabel sighed, and shook her head, and, with her index finger, inputted a four-digit passcode she knew by heart but had never used before, and the phone unlocked.

On her home screen, she had a billion little specialized applications to choose from and none of them did anything she wanted but the telephone, opening it with a touch and a second fingerstroke to reveal the digital keypad, and Anabel froze up, then groaned when she realized she didn't actually know the number to reach her - but elementary wisdom told her she could find it somewhere online... Anabel mused that it would be difficult to explain what she did next to anyone else.

It was like pressing a key, er... Actually, no, she mused. It was more like a thought interface - without actually being 'in' the system at all. She'd done it thousands - if not millions of times before Serena and her friends helped her out of her... Predicament. She took a deep breath, focusing her thoughts. Like pressing a button, or swiping a touchscreen, with her mind. Her thoughts reached out through the information superhighway and the device obeyed. The number, from somewhere in The Matrix, was punched into her cell phone without having even touched the screen, and her phone began to dial, and Anabel took a deep breath, and sat down against the wall, cross-legged, phone up against her ear, trying to think of what to say...

"Good morning." A voice eventually came from the other end. A man's voice - not what she'd expected. "Bathrette Beautronics, where beauty compromises for nothing." He sounded a tiny bit disenchanted from having to say that. "How may I direct your call?"

"I'd like to speak with Serena." Anabel said, and she felt a bit embarrassed. The clerk on the other end must've been confused with why a teenager was calling, she mused. "Serena Ramneau." She confirmed, remembering how Mrs. Blackwell had addressed her. "She's with the... Er... Commando division?"

She stammered a bit and coughed into the microphone, but, thankfully, the clerk just dutifully confirmed for her, "Serena Olivine Ramneau? Special Asset Protection Squad?" and Anabel's eyes lit up, a massive - but slightly guilty smile came onto her face.

"Yes! That's it!" She exclaimed, and let out a small laugh. "Thank you - It was on the tip of my tongue!..."

"Not a problem, miss." The clerk replied, dutifully and professionally - though, she felt he did sound a bit confused. "I'll transfer you over - who should I say is calling?"

"Anabel." She introduced herself. "Anabel Schwarzwalder. Tell her..." She paused, debating for a moment, before deciding to say, "Tell her its serious..."

"I'm so, so, so so so so so so sorry..." Serena exhaled deeply, head held down in shame, while Mrs. Jamesson stood in the doorway, arms crossed, with a heavy-lidded, disappointed look on her face - though, all of her reproach had been directed at her charge, Anabel, who was standing at her side and wearing a cagey, guilty expression and avoiding eye contact with either of them.

"No, I can't put all the blame on you, Ms..."

"Ramneau." She reluctantly introduced herself. Serena hadn't really thought this was how a phone call coming into her virtual workstation from a "Ms. Schwarzwalder, but, on reflection, she ought to have seen it coming. Her red eyes drifted over to Anabel, who wore an ashamed smile and fidgeted with the buttons on her coat. A fourteen year old girl did ask her to, essentially, help her skip out while she was on her curfew.

"Ms. Ramneau." Mrs. Jamesson continued, while Serena found herself wanting to disappear. She'd only been able to slip from the office and escape the dreariness of report writing because she was 'following up with a client.' - and she had her lunch break, anyways. She'd driven across the city, back into the domes, back through the obstinate checkpoint, only to find a very disappointed governess telling her, in the same way all her teachers did, that she'd made a mistake. "I'm afraid the young lady has strung you along. On her behalf." She took a deep breath, as Anabel pulled on her scarf. "I really must apologize for this silly waste of your time.

"Don't worry..." Serena let out an embarrassed laugh, and ruffled up her hair. "I understand - I was her age, too." She diplomatically left out the fact that she'd never been that bold as a teenager...

"Then I'm very glad for your patience, Ms. Ramneau, and thank you for being such an understanding friend to the young lady." She did a short curtsy, and then put a hand on the knob, to close the door, and Anabel snapped into action, as if, again, broken out of some spell, and to Ms. Ramneau and Mrs. Jamesson's shock, put a foot in the doorway.

"Young lady!-"

"Anabel!?-"

"Please?" Anabel took a deep breath, her expression turning more determined, and suddenly restless. "Serena, I really do need to talk..."

"I know..." Serena adjusted her coat's collar. A brown, dense fur-lined winter coat she'd taken as compensation from Dr. Lazerian for her time. She had the garment altered to fit her properly, but it still wasn't very feminine and still wasn't her favourite, but right now she didn't have much of a choice, with her leathers' still being cleaned and repaired. "You told me over the phone." Though, in truth, Anabel hadn't said much - getting anything out of that frazzled-sounding girl was like pulling hen's teeth. All she knew was that Anabel wanted to go 'somewhere' - and even she had no idea where that was, exactly.

"But you've got a full day ahead of you!" Mrs. Jamesson interrupted, on the edge of losing her patience. "What shall I tell Mrs. Blackwell?-"

"Tell her that I needed some time to myself to think about things!" Anabel snapped, and Mrs. Jamesson recoiled in shock, gasping with a hand over her mouth, and Serena found herself surprised - and uncomfortable. It felt like she was back in school - and an unruly classmate had mouthed off to the teacher and was about to be punished for it.

"ANABEL!-" Mrs. Jamesson exclaimed, sounding almost angry, she'd been taken aback by it. Serena didn't know it at the time, but that was the first time the governess had addressed her by name. "This behaviour is absolutely unbecoming of a proper lady! I must insist!-"

"I know..." Anabel took a deep breath. "I promise I'll be... Proper after this." Her tone was cagey, and the words escaped with great reluctance. "But I really need to talk. I know I'm disappointing important people but, it has to wait." She said, and to Serena's surprise, Anabel just... Opened the other double door and walked out, into the snow, her governess looking shocked - but to Serena's confusion, she didn't actually do anything to stop her."I'll be quick." Anabel said. "I promise."

"I..." Mrs. Jamesson stammered, visibly unsure and uneasy.

Serena, meanwhile, just looked worried. "Anabel, are you sure?-"

"Yeah." She cut her off, and Serena found Anabel standing beside her, rather suddenly, gesturing over into the yard. "I'm sure. Lets' go, Serena."

"But... Well..." Serena cleared her throat. "Come on, kiddo..." She let out a small laugh, and Anabel pouted, and crossed her arms. "It's a bit immature what you're doing. I think your butler-"

"Governess." Mrs. Jamesson corrected.

"Governess..." Serena continued, even if it didn't sound right to her opinion. She'd read a lot of stories set in Victorian times, and was fairly certain a governess was a teacher - who looked after younger children, at that. "Point is," She cleared her throat. "I think she's right and it might be better to just grin and bear it. Why don't you see the people you need to see today and we can hang out some other time?

"I need to talk with you now..." Anabel said, and Serena saw a glint in her blue eyes that gave her chills - despite the layers she was wearing. A desperate, troubled look, and, despite her harsh tone, the look in Anabel's eyes seemed... Almost afraid, and Serena felt a pit form in her stomach.

"Is it important?"

"It's really important." She said. "Trust me."

"I... Well..." Serena awkwardly tugged at her collar. "I hate to let your people down, but." Serena cleared her throat, and turned back to Mrs. Jamesson, who'd gone back to looking disappointed. "I'll take Anabel out for a bit and help her get this out of her system. We'll be quick - I promise."

"I do not approve in the slightest!" Mrs. Jamesson finally fired back up, turning a bit indignant. "Especially on!-" She gestured over to Serena's motorbike, parked in the snow, next to her blue Mini. "THAT!"

"Well, what's wrong with it?!" Serena sounded a bit ticked off. It was a red Honda XL909. Hybrid cell-electropower. Retro styling, Large headlamp on the front and twin-luggage compartment on the back, and her half-faced black motorbike helmet hung from one of the handlebars, like a peg. It was no Jaguar, but it had served her well - and she'd never crashed it, once. Not even in the rain, and she said so.

"It's unsafe, full stop!" Mrs. Jamesson exclaimed, and Serena took a deep breath, and turned back to Anabel with a more matter-of-fact look, and Anabel groaned, and pouted. "I don't care how good you SAY you are, the young lady might fall off and hurt herself! And what then?!"

Serena sighed, and turned to Anabel. "She's got you there."

"Alright, alright!..." Anabel barked, and darted from Serena's side, back into the manor, scarf and coattails trialling behind her, snow dusting off her boots, onto the carpet. "Oh, and don't go away, Serena!" She paused halfway up the stairs, to turn and look at her. "I'm not relenting on this!" She exclaimed, and disappeared up the stairs and left Serena and Mrs. Jamesson in her wake, both of them looking very perplexed.

"What's she doing?" Serena asked, and the governess shook her head.

"I wish I knew..." Mrs. Jamesson replied. As they waited for Anabel to return, Serena found herself asking more about how she was doing and if she was having any problems... Aside from what Mrs. Jamesson called 'A very wilful and aggressive attitude and a lack of respect for the proper behaviour of a young lady!" She'd, privately, lamented to Serena that her job was shaping up to be more difficult than Mrs. Blackwell had led on. Their conversation drifted towards all the people Anabel was scheduled to meet with today - and, since Anabel seemed to be getting her way, would need to be provided with explanations as to why the new Chairman was, well, late, to Mrs. Jamesson's chagrin.

Their (admittedly) one-sided conversation drew out for a while, Serena mostly listening and contributing the occasional 'mh hmm.' and question to stoke the fire began to drift into more personal matters. Serena had been asked how her day was going, and, with only a bit of earnest awkwardness, gave Mrs. Jamesson the cliff notes, being very, very careful to not reveal anything compromising about herself, her company, or Anabel. Early in the morning, she'd surrendered, with great reluctance, the Jaguar to WalderSoft's downtown office, punched in, did the morning drill and roll-call, and disappeared into her office (she had one now! Not just a cubicle anymore, and was quite proud of it!) to write up her report on the mission just completed, and had, thankfully, been able to shake off questions about that with a smile and a "Sorry, that's need-to-know." Though, it did make her feel a bit hypocritical.

Soon enough, she'd caught, out of the corner of her eye, Anabel racing back down the stairs, wearing an more old fashioned white motorcycle helmet, and she mused, it felt admittedly... Odd, to see and speak with, in the real world, a girl who'd, at one time, been confined to both a hospital bed and to a computer...

"Ms. Rust, the maid," Anabel explained, while descending the stairs and doing up the helmet's straps at the same time - and thankfully for both Serena and Mrs. Jamesson's sanity, got to the bottom without stumbling off. "Let me borrow it for the day." She said, a determined smile on her face.

"The day?!-" Mrs. Jamesson looked shocked at that, as, quick as it came, the smile faded from Anabel's face, replaced with a slight frustration.

"I'm not gonna keep it for the whole day, obviously!" Anabel pouted, balling her hands as she went through the doorway again, adjusting her scarf to keep the chill off, and said, "Lets' go for real this time, Serena..."

"I...!-" Mrs. Jamesson tried to speak, but, the indignant expression gradually melted down into a look of resignation, and she just adjusted her tie and said, "I'm very sorry to impose this inconvenience, Ms. Ramneau." Serena felt a bit awkward at that - since, well, she'd done everything she could to AVOID it. "Please, keep her out of trouble, and bring her back by-

"Why don't we make it an hour or so?..." Serena suggested. Anabel shot her a harsh look and Serena retorted with a pleading, but irritated expression and added, "Anabel, I don't want to bother Mrs. Blackwell or anyone else more than we already are."

"Fiiiiiine." Anabel relented, with a groan, and she puffed her chest up as she went towards Serena's motorcycle, as the vampire, awkwardly, followed, waving goodbye to Mrs. Jamesson as she hopped on her bike, pulled her riding gloves from her coat and helmet from the handlebars, and put them on, and Anabel looked a bit suddenly stunned, to her confusion.

"What's wrong?" Serena asked, and Anabel just nervously laughed, and adjusted her scarf.

"Nothing..." Anabel said. "It's just that when you're wearing that, you look a bit like..." Her tone turned a bit quieter as she said. "The hacker who tried killing me before you." She felt a bi t of a chill go up her spine at that. It wasn't exactly a secret that Serena hadn't been Hollace's first attempt at getting rid of his brother's legacy for good, but... She took a deep breath. She hardly needed Anabel to elaborate.

Serena cleared her throat, and told Anabel to hold on tight as she got on. With a turn of the key and twist of the handlebar, the fuel-cell portion of the engine purred like a contented kitten as the motorbike flared to life, roaring like an enraged lioness when it finally took off, Serena kicking the kickstand away as Anabel made a girlish little "Augh!" noise, and, with both her arms, grappled around Serena's abdomen as tight as she could, as the cold weather tires cut a path through the snow, and Serena turned onto the country road and left Schwarzwalder manor behind them, scarves fluttering in the wind as she drove.

For a while the world was still. Just them, the rumbling of her bike, and the occasional passing of an expensive car, with miles and miles of winter snow around them. Serena was taking the bike a bit slow and relaxed - partly because, with Anabel riding with her, she really, REALLY didn't want to spin out, but mostly... "Did you have anywhere in mind?" She asked.

"Just keep driving..." Anabel said, her tone distant and her eyes gazing restlessly into the horizon. "I'll let you know if I think of something..."

"I'm surprised we could come out at all." Serena admitted, her train of thought drifting, as she loosened up off the throttle a bit for a turn.

"What's surprising about it?"

"Well..." Underneath her helmet, Serena's expression turned a bit confused. "The governess, er, Mrs..."

"Her name's Mrs. Jamesson." Anabel's tone began to turn flat and listless. "Christina Jamesson. She's a family friend of Mrs. Blackwell, which is sort of why she came on such short notice..."

"I'm just surprised she let you come out..." Serena laughed a bit, as she went into the corner, as a few more mansions of the rich and powerful began to come into view, long stretches of road branching out from the main one connecting them, rooftops and fences and lampposts all covered in cool, crisp winter snow. It reminded her of photographs she'd seen of old century suburbs, but scaled up. "Don't you kind of HAVE to..." She got back on topic. "Listen to your governess? I thought she was in charge of you."

"She's my employee, technically." Anabel explained, and didn't sound very proud of it. "Which means she has to listen to what I say."

"Is that..." The look in Serena's eyes as she focused on the road, underneath her helmet, was a bit perturbed. "A good thing?"

Anabel sighed, but said nothing and just held onto her tightly, and Serena chose to join her, focusing on the road ahead, the world once again going still. Mansions far off poked out from the snow like marzipan decorations on a massive, powdered-sugar dusted cake, the rumbling of her bike's engine occasionally joined by the brief company of a Rolls-Royce or a Mercedes-Benz or a Cadillac or some other sort of expensive, flashy car, going the opposite way or overtaking her. Off to her right, Serena could see the more developed and dense part of the domes. Main Street, which she'd seen last night, going the other way, in more lively company. "I think I'm going to drive into town..." Serena found herself eventually breaking the silence, while Anabel was either contemplating or sulking in the backseat (both, was her guess.) "Do you mind at all?"

"No." Anabel took a deep breath. "Drive wherever you want..."

"Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine." Anabel's tone suddenly went a bit harsh. "I'm just trying to think, that's all." An awkward smile, and a stifled, nostalgic giggle came over Serena - because she'd said those exact words herself, and knew what they meant.

Serena looked more relaxed as she drank from her cup of coffee. Real coffee. The good stuff. She and Anabel had made a stop in one of the main plazas, and were sitting on the concrete rim of a central fountain, watching well-to-do passers by wrapped up in furs and wool, trailed by attendants and staff. Behind them, copper cherubs held amphorae that would, in the warmer months, disgorge endlessly with a cool, refreshing torrent of water. Serena's eyes found themselves looking up, at the richly decorated buildings, towering above them, hemming them in.

Of course, even the town centre of the domes wasn't as imposing as the titanic skyscrapers that dominated downtown St. Petersburg, visible from miles away - but they were quite tall. Serena had another drink of coffee, feeling the warmth penetrate and permeate her body. The whole town was done up in a charming, old Central-European style she didn't really have the time to appreciate until now. However, the elitist preferences of the designers - and intended users - of this place bled through. The buildings had the style down; wood and masonry accents, tall, sloping rooftops, white, ornate windowpanes, and even a few analog clocks for the benefit of those too fancy and ostentatious to own a watch, some with doors that, on the hour, snapped open for a mechanical cuckoo or nightingale to pop open and sing a brief song, to mark the passing of the day. In a photo, it would be accurate, but being here in person dispelled the illusion. It was all too big. Scaled up oddly and taller than you'd expect. It felt, to Serena, like she'd stumbled into a painting done with a wonky perspective.

"Thanks for the coffee." Serena broke the silence, and turned over to her taciturn young friend.

Anabel distantly responded with an "Its alright..." And had a sip of her own drink. Coffee, too. She'd ordered it with a determined expression and a mature gleam in her eyes... Though, she did take it double-double, rather than black, as Serena drank almost religiously. Anabel paid. Serena nearly insistent but Anabel was firm, since she HAD dragged her out on her own time, and Serena was forced to agree when she saw the prices written on the cozy, wood-furnished cafe's blackboard menu. The coffee here was night and day with the mysterious substance masquerading as drinkable sold by the Times Square Cafe, but it was almost ten times as expensive.

"Well, now that we're here..." Serena had another sip, as she watched the world. She would have been fine in the cafe, even if she didn't fit in here, but Anabel wanted some fresh air and Serena just went along with her. Especially since she'd paid. "Do you wanna do anything else?"

Anabel took a deep breath and another drink. "I dunno." She said.

"I do." Anabel said, and that was the first time Serena had ever heard someone say that in a troubled, uncomfortable tone. It gave her goosebumps. "And that's the weird thing." Anabel turned to look at Serena, an uneasy look in her eyes. "Because I remember not liking coffee."

"Well, it's an acquired taste." Serena replied, an awkward smile coming onto her face. "I couldn't stand this stuff when I was in middle school. Then I started having it with milk and sugar because I needed the energy. Then I cut both of those out because I wanted to go on a diet and it actually turned out better-"

"Not like that!" She cut in, leaning in, looking even more antsy and uncomfortable and starting to scare Serena a bit. "I couldn't stand bitter things at all! Even coffee like this was too bitter, but..." She took a deep breath, composing herself as she pulled back, and began to stare into the ground, and Serena looked a bit awkward - and vaguely guilty.

"Well..." Serena tugged at the fuzzy collar of her brown coat. "I still think it could just be that your tastes are changing."

"Maybe, but..." Anabel exhaled, and watched the cloud of condensation dissipate, before turning back over to Serena, an edgy look in her eyes, and asked, "What do you think of this place, Serena?"

"What, here?" She looked all around her, at the charming - if oversized - buildings, capped with snow, thin streams of red brick revealed in the plaza by the footsteps in the white snow where dandy people had been.

"The domes in general, I suppose."

"I mean..." Serena took another drink of warm, invigorating coffee, and shrugged her shoulders. "Its nice, I guess. Maybe a bit too big and fancy, but its nice to get away from the big city chaos sometimes." She laughed a bit. "I'll be honest, even if your uncle tried to have me and my friends killed here, I found it nice. It was like a vacation."

"That's the weird thing, Serena." Anabel replied, staring into the plastic lid of the go-cup, her expression very distant. "My memory agrees with you. I remember liking this place. I've got good memories here, but-"

*Ah-hem!* Came a very harsh and patronizing-sounding clearance of the throat from their left, and Serena and Anabel both turned and found, staring at them with a contemptive look, a red-jacketed policeman, who'd ditched the usual campaign hat Monty's Mounties usually wore with a warmer, cozier fur cap, the 'ears' down, and a company badge in the centre, right above the brim, which partially covered his pompous expression. "Do you have any business in this neighbourhood, madam?"

Serena, at first, looked confused "What, me?-"

"She's with me, you don't need to worry." Anabel cut in, flashing a poised, gracious, and matching contemptive expression. Which confused Serena for a moment, until she added, "I'm showing a friend of the family around town, if you don't mind, officer." and Serena connected the dots. Her tone felt like in the movies, where a rich girl was addressing 'the help.'

The policeman cleared his throat, and sized up Anabel, and Serena realized it. Anabel's clothes weren't flashy, but they were clearly well-made and expensive and that meant he was seeing she belonged here - and, contrarily, that Serena didn't. "That's alright, then." He flashed a vicious smile, and tipped his cap. "You and your little friend here have fun, young lady-" Serena saw a very brief flash of choler in Anabel's eyes, but she kept a lid on it. "-just make sure she moves that thing of hers." He gestured to the motorbike, parked by the fountain, kickstand down and two helmets - one white, one black - on the handlebars. "Or I might need to ticket her for obstruction of the public thoroughfares." Serena had a look around - the plaza was very spacious and not even densely populated - only a few well-to-dos going by, and a few rubberneckers looking on, and her expression turned heavy-lidded.

"Will do... Officer." Anabel said, and the policeman flashed a sinister grin, tipped his cap again, and turned and walked away as Anabel's expression turned stony, and Serena was able to afford the luxury of groaning a bit.

"I guess we'd better buzz off, then." Serena said, and she drank down the rest of her coffee, and scanned around the plaza for a trash can to leave the go-cup in. Anabel took a deep draught from her own, and gave the rest to Serena, the cup still feeling a third of the way full. "Do you not want the rest of it?"

"I'd rather get going." Anabel dryly replied, and Serena just took a deep breath, and made for one of the black metal trash receptacles, dumping the go-cups, and, by the time she got back, Anabel already had her helmet on, ready to leave.

"Does that happen a lot here?" Serena asked, as she slipped her own helmet up over her head, and her leg over the motorbike's seat.

"Its part of their job." Anabel sounded annoyed as she hopped up on the backseat, and held onto Serena by the abdomen as she turned the key, gunned the engine, drew a few stares, and sped off, kicking out the kickstand and departing the plaza, cutting another trail through the snow and back on the main road 'into town.' "Cops posted to The Domes have to make sure 'the wrong people' don't get 'lost' in a nice part of town." Anabel explained, sounding indignant about it. "Don't get the wrong idea - they like doing it. Being able to exercise petty authority is one of the 'job perks.'"

"The Mounties aren't..." Serena took a deep breath as she slowed for a yellow light, recalling a few other... Incidents she'd had with them. "I'm not gonna mince words - they're assholes. Don't go repeating that language or you're gonna sound like a punk."

"You sound like a governess." Anabel rolled her eyes. "And I hate it here, Serena." She said, changing gears as bluntly as an old, terrible car. "I remember liking it." She squeezed Serena's abdomen a bit tighter. "That's the awful thing. I remember feeling at home here and I can't see why ANYONE would like it here!" She yelled at the top of her lungs, forcing the emotion out of her and pulling Serena uncomfortably tight for a moment.

"I'm probably gonna vomit if you do that again."

"I'm sorry..." Anabel sighed. "But I freaking hate the domes! It's awful here! This place feels... Fake! Its all... Too big, and too flashy, and too full of money and full of itself and just... Look at the sky! It's a bubble, locked off from the real world! You don't have any problems here because you've locked them behind walls and armed guards and cops to harass anyone who looks poor!-"

Serena's expression turned momentarily indignant. "I look poor?!" She already knew the cop was profiling her, but hearing a second opinion!-

"-and..." Anabel shivered, and that snapped Serena out of it. "I don't know why I feel this way. I... I shouldn't feel... Hateful! I got everything I wanted, Serena!" Her tone began to turn desperate and unsteady. "I survived everything Hollace tried to do to me and I got him for it and I'm in the real world, back to the life I should have had, but!-"

"But what?"

There was a long, uncomfortable stillness in the air. Not quite as still as the country, but not the chaos of downtown St, Petersburg, either. There were still people going by, conversations flowing from shops and cafes, flashy cars passing them by, and the clicking of streetlights, going from green, to yellow, to red, and back again, and the rumbling of the motorbike beneath them.

"Serena?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to visit my dad." Anabel said, and Serena's expression went from surprised, to very uneasy, but she said nothing, twisted the throttle, and made a left turn, knowing where to go.

The snowfall had picked up by the time they'd arrived at the Golden Acres cemetery, coming down in big, white clumps, so dense you could hardly see the sky, the gravestones and masonry now sporting a dense pileup of white snow. All around them, the air was deathly cold, yet the wind was uncomfortably still. Anabel leaned down and, wordlessly, stuffed a bundle of red roses in the snow in front of a particular tombstone. A cross-shaped grave marker. The leftmost of a pair. Anabel took a deep breath, and stood back up, saying nothing and watching the snowfall.

The flowers were Serena's idea. Since this was The Domes, the ability to get fresh roses in the dead of winter was a very simple luxury. The two of them just stood silently infront of the grave marker, and Serena wordlessly read off the inscription:

Jonas Schwarzwalder

B. Jan. 18 2026

D. Nov. 6 2068

Beloved artist and father

Missed by his family and his studio

"I've avenged you, Dad..." Anabel broke the long silence. The words did not come easily from her mouth, and she delivered them with her hands balled into fists. "My... My friends helped me solve your murder, and... Get even... I'm... Really thankful for all the help I've been given, and... I wish you could be here to thank them, too..."

Anabel paused again, taking another deep breath, and finding herself slowly crouching down in the snow as she admitted, "I wish I could ask you for help, Dad." Her eyes were focused on the grave marker, with a cold, distant expression on her face. "I don't know what to do. You've always been there for me, but now that you're gone..."

Serena opened her mouth, but at the critical moment she found the words refusing to materialize, her voice refusing to project, and she closed it again, and looked away, a bit embarrassed - and uncertain.

"Today I woke up, and it feels like I'm somebody else." Anabel said. "I've got all these memories floating inside my head..." She smiled, and laughed, the expression in her eyes uneasy and pained. "All these happy and sad and painful memories you gave me. All these things I know happened. All these emotions I felt... All these things I know with my being are mine, but!..." Her eyes went wide, and Anabel leaned in even closer towards the grave market. "But I know none of it happened to me!" She exclaimed, with a sudden burst of desperate melancholer. "I keep trying to smooth it over and not think about it and deny everything, but... All of it happened to HER!" The other grave marker. Serena's eyes briefly turned towards it. The one Hollace had shown to explain himself, only a few days ago but seeming like it had all been much longer...

"Am... What did you make me to be, Dad!?" Anabel exclaimed. It was far from accusatory or spiteful, but it made Serena wince. She sounded... Profoundly sad. "I'm... Am... What am I supposed to be?! Everyone's just treating me like normal, and everything's just... Going on like 'it should!' The world's just going on by like nothing's changed and everyone's just so nice to me and too... Accommodating and I hate it and I hate myself for hating it because they're just being nice and they're just doing what they're supposed to - does that make me a bad person, dad?!" She began to laugh again. Painful, manic laughter, and Serena could see, in the snow, small spots below her where a droplet had fallen and melted a part of the white cover. "You're the only one who ever said 'no' to me, dad..." She said, breathing raggedly and unsteadily. "and I never thought I'd miss it but I miss being told 'no' and I miss being talked to sternly and I miss being punished for being bad and... I miss you! Everyone else is just too damn nice, but not really NICE, nice, the way you are!..."

Anabel fell silent again, taking a few deep breaths and composing herself, adjusting her scarf, fidgeting with the buttons on her coat, and taking in the crisp, winter air, the snow coming down hard around them, and even the roses were beginning to accumulate a dusting of white. "It's like I woke up from a long nap. Its like I've been dreaming my whole life. I've been dreaming in ones and zeroes and now I've woken up and..." Anabel sniffled, and her breathing turned raggedy again and her gloved hands balled into fists, and said, "and you're gone. I've woken up and realized you're gone and I feel like I don't belong, dad! Everyone's just going on like normal but I'm the bump in the road!..."

"Anabel-"

"But SHE belonged, I'm sure..." Anabel said, and sniffled, and took in another raggedy, uncertain breath of winter air. "She's a lot more... Elegant, and proper, and liked the domes and didn't like bitter things and didn't get mad at losing..." Another sniffle. "And she was your real daughter! - and what does that make me?!"

"Anabel!" Serena finally called out, the spell fully broken, and she fell silent again, breathing deeply, more and more droplets beginning to run down her face, falling into the snow and melting where they landed...

"I'm sorry, Serena..." Anabel laughed again. "After all you've done for me, and all you've accomplished... You and everyone from Bathrette have... Moved mountains for me..." She slowly stood up, and turned around, and Serena felt pained as she saw the puffy look in her eyes and the trails running down her face. "I'm such an ingrate. I've... cheapened your victory here, haven't I?" She said. "You... You did a great job. I'm just the one who-"

Serena said nothing, but her mind moved quicker than anything else, filing and thumbing through dozens of options on what to say or what to do, and, eventually, eyes focused on Anabel's pained, tormented expression, settled on one. In hindsight, Serena was surprised this had been her instinct, but in the moment, she thought Anabel needed something and went for it and wrapped her arms around the young lady and embraced her, and said, "It's alright, Anabel." and found a tender smile emerging onto her face. Anabel locked up for a moment, as her own cybernetically-enhanced brain went through it's own dozens of options, and, finding nothing, went to the heart for advice. Anabel's heart acted and hugged Serena back, as hard as she could, letting everything come out, tears staining Serena's brown jacket, as she hugged her as tightly as possible.

"I don't know what to do!" Anabel forced out, in between tears. "I don't even know who I am! Am I even real?..."

There was a short, silent pause for deliberation. "What is 'real' anyways, Anabel?" Serena finally replied. "You're standing here now, with us, in the physical world."

"But I'm not like you, Serena..." Anabel took a deep, raggedy breath, through floods of tears. "Or like... like HER! My father made me, but he created her! My... My mother carried her and nursed her and... And I don't have any of that!" She paused, letting it hang in the air and letting more tears flow out. "I'm not my dad's real daughter! I'm a fake!-"

"You shouldn't say that about yourself." Serena cut her off, her tone turning more matronly and a bit stern. "You're just going to make yourself sad..." She laughed a bit. "I remember you got really mad at Mrs. Blackwell when she said-"

"Because she made me confront it, and I didn't want to, but..." Anabel took another deep breath. "I see now focusing on getting revenge let me ignore... Myself. Now that that's gone. Now that my dad's gone... Now that SHE's gone!..." Anabel let a few more tears come forward into Serena's chest. "What am I supposed to be?!"

"What do you want to be?"

"I don't know!" Anabel's tone turned more choleric. "That's the problem! I... I'm not... Really crazy about video games like my dad was and I have no idea how I can continue his dreams! I... I don't like business like my fink of an uncle and I don't know where to go to begin with! I feel like, after all the work you put in I'm just going to let you down, and let my dad down!... I don't wanna let him down, Serena! He's such a... He's been the best dad to me. I know that with everything I am! I know from the dream and from... HER memories and from... My memories! Its all a jumble but I know that I love him and I can't let him down..."

"You won't." Serena took a deep breath, and gave her a tender smile. "Anabel, you're forgetting, you're still a kid. Alot of stuff is being placed on your shoulders, so it's easy to overlook, but you're still a young girl."

"Shut up." She said, but didn't try to escape the hug.

"If you want a 'truth' to get mad at, get mad at that..." Serena just laughed a bit. "You've still got your whole life ahead of you to decide everything. Your father's..." Her expression turned a bit awkward. "I mean, your company-"

"It'll always be my dad's company." Anabel took a deep breath. "I might be the majority shareholder and the one in charge and he might be gone, but I can't see it any other way, and I won't, and I don't think I ever will. It's my dad's company and that's the way I want it to be."

"Your father's men are good enough people to entrust his legacy, to." Serena explained. "I saw them at work, and I think they can finish what he started and keep it going, and I think you should go and talk with them when you get the chance. They'll be able to help you in deciding what you want, too."

"I'll do that..."

"And, Anabel?..."

"What?..."

"I don't think you're going to let your father down at all." Serena said, a tender smile on her lips. "You might be feeling weird now - I definitely would too if I was in your boots, but that doesn't change who you are."

"Well, WHAT am I?..." Anabel briefly looked up, face turning annoyed, eyes still stained with bitter tears. "I'm just a... I'm not even real... I'm..." She took a deep breath, and another drop of salt fell from her eyes. "I'm a program. I might be in a real body but that's all I'll ever be-"

"You're determined." Serena cut her off. "You're a very headstrong person. I don't think you give yourself enough credit; you stopped all of Hollace's hackers, you got us into Yuri's apartment building, you're the one who hacked into Vic's database, and you decided to put yourself in a human body. Even now, Mrs. Blackwell trusts you a lot. She's been helping you, but she's also let you take charge of things. You're a very capable girl."

"And I've been letting her down. Running away like this..."

"Anabel, I keep telling you..." Serena laughed again, and rubbed her back, and Anabel just dove back into her chest and pulled tighter and let loose a few more tears. "You're a teenager. I think everyone will understand if you throw a tantrum and run out of the house for a while because you're worried about your life."

"Oh, Really?" She didn't sound too convinced, and Serena's expression turned a bit more ironic.

"Everyone was a kid, once." She explained. "You're not letting anyone down, least of all your dad - you came all this way to visit him, after all." Anabel let out a stifled, half-crying laugh.

"Y-yeah..." Anabel took a deep breath, and she shivered, started to cry again. "But... Serena, this doesn't really change anything."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm still..." Her tone turned a bit more choleric. "I still feel like a fake. Like... Like... I'm sorry. I know you're right but I still feel like a fake. I know..." She took a deep breath, and finally she pulled herself free from Serena's comfort, wresting herself out of her friend's arms, and turning back over towards the twin grave markers. Her eyes were still a bit puffy, but the flow of tears had stemmed for the moment. "SHE's the... real daughter." Anabel admitted, and, as quickly as it'd stopped, a flow of sobs emerged once again, tears running down her face, and Serena just put a hand on her shoulder this time. "I'm such a weirdo, Serena." Anabel said. "I'm jealous of... Someone who's basically me?!"

"That's just it, though." Serena responded. "Anabel, she's you. You're her. You might be different... Well." She paused, briefly, needing to think about that, eyes drifting to the horizon. "I wouldn't say different people, but-"

"No, different people works." Anabel fidgeted with her coat a bit. "I'm... Different from her. I don't like it."

"Isn't that a good thing, though? It means you're your own person. You don't have to live in the shadow or live up to what people expect of someone else. You're Anabel, but you're a different Anabel."

"But... It's..." Anabel took in a deep breath, and crouched down, once again, eyes focused on the rightmost of the two grave markers. The one which also said 'Anabel' on it, and her expression turned nonplussed and uncomfortable. "Its weird."

"It is..." Serena laughed a bit, and Anabel found, despite her own attempts to force it back, a small grin coming to her face as well. "There's no denying that."

"But..." Anabel stood up again, and fixed up her scarf, gazed out, up over the stone wall of the cemetery and into the horizon. "You're right, Serena." She sighed. "She IS me. My... My father made me based off her. My father gave me her memories so I would truly be a... A copy of his beloved daughter..."

"That's not all you have to be, Anabel." Serena said. "You're Jonas' daughter regardless. He made you, and he loved you, and you know that, from the memories you were given and all the memories that are your own, and all the new memories you're going to make from now on. You're not gonna let him down by feeling weird about your situation, don't worry..."

Anabel let out a small, stifled laugh, and Serena breathed a sigh of relief. It sounded like she was beginning to calm. Her laughter sounded tired, and a bit sarcastic, but it no longer sounded pained. "I guess so..." Anabel took a deep breath wiped the tears from her eyes with her sleeve, and turned back to Jonas' grave marker. "It really does feel like I've woken up from a long dream. I'm trying not to, but I still feel jealous of..." Her gaze shifted over towards the other Anabel's grave marker. "Myself. I've... Serena, I need to admit something."

"Hm?"

"I came here to break that." She pointed to the grave marker, and an odd feeling of unease creep up Serena's spine. "I think I just... Didn't want to admit what had happened. It all made me feel... Unreal. I thought maybe if I destroyed the evidence she was there I'd be... Real, but that's not how it works, isn't it?"

"I guess not."

"I don't really know, but I think you're right about being myself." She took a deep breath, and turned back over towards Serena, and, on her own initiative, reached out and hugged her and refused to let go and Serena was a bit stunned for a second, before she laughed, and hugged Anabel back. "I'm not just... Taking over from where she left off."

"You're not."

"I want to be my own person." Anabel took in a deep breath. "I think that's what my dad would want, too. I've got all these weird memories that I know are mine but didn't happen to me and don't line up with my feelings, but do they have to?"

"I don't like some things I used to like." Serena admitted, cringing in her head as she remembered a few awkward phases she'd been through. The sort you destroy all evidence of. "I've come around on some things I used to hate. We all do - it's part of growing up. You're just feeling an extreme of it, since these memories you were given are clashing a bit with how you feel, but..." Serena laughed a bit, and her eyes drifted off to the horizon, watching the snow come down. "You're making new memories. That's where you're becoming your own person; these new experiences you're feeling, ontop of the memories your father gave you to protect."

"And breaking the grave wouldn't do anything, but..." Anabel laughed again. Sardonic, bitter, but not painful, this time. "I'd just be hurting my dad by doing that, wouldn't I?..."

"I guess you would."

"But, well..." She pulled a bit out of the embrace and turned back to the grave marker, eyes turning a bit heavy-lidded. "I still need to have it altered, though."

"Why?"

"I might be my own person, but... I should've brought it up earlier. Remember how Mrs. Blackwell said the we'd have to adjust the world?" Anabel sighed. "That was part of it. We're framing the... My... Being here as the fact that I was in hospital for a while - presumed dead - after the attack. I WAS gonna destroy the grave marker, but..." She took a deep breath. "Now, I don't really want to anymore."

Serena raised an eyebrow. "You can do all that?" She said, and Anabel let out a sly laugh.

"If you're rich enough..." A cattish little smile came onto her face, and Serena looked a touch disturbed - the societal implications of that were a bit uncomfortable to dwell on, but now wasn't really the time... "Everyone's gonna forget about everything eventually." She said, turning more serious as she turned back towards the grave marker. "I'll remember, though. I'll keep that memory safe, for you, Dad." She pulled herself out of Serena's arms and, for the last time, Anabel crouched down infront of Jonas' grave marker, and, with a deep smile on her face, said, "Thank you, Dad. For everything you've done for me. I'll make you proud," She said, smile deepening, and a bit of colour coming to her cheeks. "I promise."

"I'd like to thank your father as well." Serena said as she put a gloved hand on the grave marker, through the snow. "He made the computer systems that helped save me and my friends' lives. I owe him for that, at the very least."

"And, thank you too, Serena." Anabel said, her expression turning a bit impish, and oddly coy. "For being there for me, and helping me out. You're..." She let out a small laugh. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you kind of feel like my mom." Serena's eyes went wide, and she turned beet red, and began to laugh that off, looking very awkward, and Anabel put a thumb to her chin. "Actually, maybe an 'older sister' might be better. Aren't you like, only ten years older than me-?"

"Anyways!..." Serena cut in, not wanting this line of conversation to continue. If nothing else, she mused, this would be another fun story to tell the kids... Maybe Anabel would even be a family friend in the future. "Are you feeling better, though?"

"I'll be honest, not that much better." Anabel took a deep breath. "I don't want to run away anymore, but I still feel weird."

"I think it'll take some time to get used to, but, in the meantime, why don't we say goodbye and get going?" Serena let out another awkward laugh. "I think we've been out longer than we promised Mrs. Jamesson and you've still got a bunch of well-paid people to see today."

"Fine..." Anabel said, quite reluctant, but a small smile crept onto her face. The two of them said, "Goodbye!" to Jonas Schwarzwalder, and a quieter, "Goodbye." to the other Anabel Schwarzwalder. The Anabel - ghost girl, young lady, in the flesh, apologizing for the alteration she'd planned, but, since it was necessary to maintain the family name, she'd understand... With a quick gesture, Anabel took one of the roses from the bouquet she'd pressed infront of her father's headstone, and planted it in the snow infront of Anabel's, and turned, and began to head back.

"So, are you going back to school after the winter holidays end?" Serena asked, and Anabel sighed, with a heavy-lidded look on her face, and Serena laughed. "I know. It's a pain while you're there, but when you're done, you'll look back on it more fondly."

"Everyone says that." Anabel dryly responded. "But..." She took a deep breath, and smiled. "Those will be memories I can say are mine..."

Postscript:

Thank you for reading the third instalment of what is now the Blood on the Matrix trilogy! I hope you've enjoyed reading this novel as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

Virtual Shade is also a very personal landmark for me, since it's been a very long delayed book. I started work on it in mid-2023, but had to pause, since, September 2023 is when I started going to university. It's been an interesting journey, in which I learned a lot and met a lot of cool people and broadened my horizons. It's also been non-stop hard work, and that meant I could only work on this in small chunks over winter, spring, and summer break. This is why Virtual shade is coming to you in 2025, rather than in 2024, as I'd originally planned.

In a glass half full way, the long time I've taken has given me a broader perspective, and I've grown as a person and an author in those two years. This probably turned out to be a different book than it would have if I'd not gone to university and wrote it all in one shot. It's been a fun two years, and being able to write this has been one of the primary motivators in my academic career! I remember so many times, ahead of exams, I'd tell myself, "Just ace this, and you can get back to working on the book!" It's been the carrot at the end of my stick for two years, so, it's going to be odd not looking forward to working on it, or, more negatively, not regressing into boyhood and being mad I can't work on it!

Anyways, once again, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter of Serena's life and adventures, and of all her dear friends and colleagues, too.

-Joe