Ray Dawson sat on his couch, feet propped up on his glass-topped table. He held a remote in his right hand, mindlessly flicking through the channels on the Tri-d as the cigarette between his lips burned shorter. His Ares Predator was on the couch beside him, and a half-empty bottle of J.D. hung loosely in his left hand. The only thing on was news, cheesy old movies, and infomercials. Ray had spent the past several days just sitting at home, doing nothing. He was down to one car, and 2 of his better contacts had died. True, he had earned a large sum of money from Fielding, which he had promptly used to resupply his diminished resources.

At least Ray had met Dallas, who seemed like a good enough kid. A bit new to the city scene, but a good partner nonetheless. He thought back to his last partner, and the images of his friend, riddled with corporate security force bullets, came flashing back into his mind. He had died right there on the street, in Ray's arms, after being gunned down by a security team from Aztech. They had been investigating a string of corporate shadowruns, apparently aimed at the assassination of the mayor of Seattle. It was that moment, over 4 years ago, that Ray had decided not to let anybody else get too close to him. He thought he'd been doing a good job of this, until that fateful night when he was staking out the 'Java Hut' Coffee Shop. Ray had accepted another partner.

The door-buzzer sounded, stirring Ray from his thoughts, and he pressed the button on the remote which displayed the camera view from outside on his Tri-d. It was Dallas, holding a brown grocery bag in each arm. Ray pressed another button, causing the roll-up door to open, then returned to his apathetic exploits from a few minutes ago. Dallas strode in, closed the door, and put the grocery bags on Ray's counter.

"Anything good on?" he asked, pulling a bag of chips and a bottle of juice from the first bag. Dallas hopped over the back of the couch, sinking fully into the very comfy seat and ripping open the bag of chips with his left hand. Ray shook his head 'no'. "Wow. Awful wordy today, aren't we?" Dallas pressed. Ray half-snorted a chuckle around his almost-finished cigarette.

"What's new, kid?" Dawson asked, turning to regard Dallas with a half-smile.

"Just dropping in to see how you're doing. It's been 2 weeks, and I was just making sure you hadn't killed anybody else since we stopped working for Fielding," Dallas said, stuffing some chips into his mouth and crunching away. "I hear Crane and Spyder are doing fine--only Spyder is in fact sterile," he added before downing the chips. Ray chuckled again.

"And Crane isn't?" he speculated from Dallas' unspoken innuendo. "I'll bet he's pissed about that." The two shared a good laugh, and Ray continued to channel-surf.

"Oooh, American Ninja 8. Leave it on," Dallas said as Ray flicked through the 'Action' channel. Ray let out a sigh and took another swig from his bottle before replacing his cigarette with a fresh one and lighting up.

For better or for worse, Ray had made a friend with Dallas Whitecrow...

By Margravine (Ranger) on Unrecorded Date:

He checked. He was where he was supposed to be, but there was no answer to his knock. The door proved to be unlocked when the knob was turned. Strange.

The apartment was dark except for one feeble lamp in the far corner that was barely enough to illuminate the stylized bird motif painted on one wall and mirrored in the negative on the other, wingtips touching at the corner's apex. The intruder took a cautious step forward and allowed the door to close behind him. He paused, allowing his eyes to adjust to the gloom. The room was one large living room-kitchen combo, sparsely furnished, but comfortable looking. A wide ladder-stair descended to a point between the kitchen and living area acting as a room divider of sorts, it led up into a loft area lost in darkness. The intruder took another step toward the light, his gaze probing the dim recesses. A barely audible thump sounded behind him, and he spun, a large pistol appearing almost magically in his hand. Behind him stood a figure in silhouette, slender, log haired, a good half a foot shorter than he, and as he watched it flashed a ghostly smile through the gloom.

"Hi Ray."

The taller man holstered his gun with a disgruntled snort, "Frag, kid, you should lock your door if you're not gonna answer when guests come knocking."

Dallas Whitecrow chuckled and slid the light switch up to about half mast, and the room lightened around them, "Sorry, man, I got busy right after I called you."

Ray Dawson grunted and stalked around his young friend's new digs on an inspection tour. There were a lot of long narrow vertical windows, so narrow that an average body would probably not fit through on even if they did open. The front door was steel core with sophisticated locks and an alarm; the kitchen door was similarly equipped. A second door in the kitchen led to a guest bath. In the living area, there were several chairs and ottomans - no couches - which look quite cushy. Most of the place - except for the stark black/white bird image - was done in colors a designer would call 'adobe', 'riverbank', and 'desert wind' then charge you 5000 for the lexicon.

At the stair he looked a Dallas inquiringly and was granted permission with a nod. He headed up the steep incline to give the loft a once over. It covered about half as much territory as the spacious lower floor, Dallas had hung what appeared to be some painted skins parallel to the ceiling. The narrow windows on this level near the roof were horizontal, shorter, and could be opened. The low slung bed was covered with furs and there were a couple more cushy ottomans about the place. A bathroom was built into one corner behind opaque glass brick walls. A spiral stair in another corner led up to a roof access door that if anything was more formidable that the main doors.

Dawson returned to the main floor and dropped in to one of the comfortable looking chairs - the only one in fact that had a side table near it which was in turn equipped with a large smokeless ashtray. Dawson was never one to waste resources, so he pulled out a smoke and lit up.

"So you finally got your own place. Does this mean I won't be finding your skinny butt on my sofa any more?"

"Dallas folded himself on to one of the ottomans, "That was the idea. I'd been crashing with either you or Lucy Manykills since I got here - what, three, four months ago? It got a little old."

They sat without speaking for a few minutes, they had not seen each other for almost three weeks, not since the Action movie night eat and drink at Ray's place.

"Heard from the others?" asked Dawson at last.

Dallas shook his head, "Not a word from Spyder. Crane sent an elven hooker to Lucy's before I left as a thank you, though," he grinned.

"So what did you call for?"

"Human companionship?"

Dawson laughed outright.

"Okay," Dallas rose and handed a scream sheet to Dawson. A mass grave had been uncovered near the waterfront in an old abandoned freight yard, and the lurid pictures on the front page were enough to give the faint of heart nightmares. Dawson scanned it and the article.

"So?"

"Every body in the grave was an ork except one, so, being a curious sort, I went down to the morgue to see who it was. Met a Lone Star called Virgil Seaton, know him?"

Dawson grunted noncommittally, and Dallas continued, "He says that they were all female, were al killed with the same MO, probably all with the same weapon, and probably all by the same person or persons - except the non-ork, a human."

"So Seattle has an ork serial killer that no one has ID'd yet, let alone noticed."

"Too true. But the point of my trip was to eyeball the human corpse. "

"So did you?"

"Yeah, I believe the messily killed man in the grave full of female orks was Danny McNeil, and it sure looked like a torture killing to me. So that begs the question - has the enigmatic Golden Dragon raised its ugly head again, or is this some thing else, something connected to the deaths of at least 22 ork women -- and do we want to find out?"

"Frag."

By Margravine (Ranger) on Unrecorded Date:

Dawson stood and paced for a moment, “I am not gonna save the world gratis again," he said gruffly, "If we got no one who’ll pay, I’m not interested.”

Dallas smiled disbelieving, “Gratis. After that sweet deal with Fielding and you say gratis.”

Dawson scowled “I started out on retainer tracking a street mage – who never did turn up, by the way - and ended up getting my resources fried and my ass kicked cause I wandered off on or was dragged into weird fraggin’ tangents. Fielding was just another tangent, one that paid off is all.”

“So, now you’re sorry…?”

Dawson stared at Dallas, was he sorry? “No,” he barked, “But I’ve got overhead, and so do you,” he finished glancing around.

“Well, as it happens, this Seaton guy will pay. He says Lone Star isn’t interested - for about the same reasons as you stated – no body will foot the bill for an investigation into meta transient and hooker deaths and it’s driving him nuts.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“So he says he’s got a discretionary fund he can pay us out of. He’ll slip in a couple of ‘consultant’ invoices and we make 10,000.”

“A discretionary fund, huh,” snorted Dawson.

Dallas looked pious, “I did not inquire.”

Dawson stared, “Well, at least you’re learning, kid,” he thought a moment, “What about the Seyeva woman? I’ve seen you on the trid twice in the last three weeks lurking discreetly in her wake.”

Dallas gestured impatiently, “Just paying the bills. I won’t commit to a permanent gig and she doesn’t like body guards – not even me,” he grinned.

“Okay,” said Dawson feigning reluctance, “I’ll go and talk to Seaton with you Thursday.”

“Wiz. I got it all set up for 11 at the Franklin Commissary. I also ordered us dinner. Korean okay with you?”

By Rigel (Nat) on Unrecorded Date:

Crane and Spyder were giving up their apartments to make money last longer. Chou proved that it wasn’t safe to stay there anyway. The Orc underground had its charms, mainly that it was safe. Spyder jacked out as soon as she became aware of Crane’s presence and her eyes ached in protest of insufficient light. He'd spent part of the day gathering current news.

“Lerner is dead too. Someone accessed his files twenty minutes before Chou rounded us up. That’s probably how he got to us. McNeil flew the coup, we don’t know where he might be.” Crane scowled in disappointment and cracked a knuckle on his left hand. “Dawson had some info on some recent Meta killings, a dead human body along with them, he suspects its Danny, and unless he has a positive DNA ID I’m not so sure. If I happen to catch that phalllically challenged, gutless weasel…” he paused to take a cleansing breath as he grabbed a chair and sat down “Anyway, have ya got anything on Fujiyama?”

Spyder had the look of bad news painted on her face “Not yet, he’s been laying low, probably reorganizing and laying plans to make sure his bosses don’t find out just how badly he screwed up. Good thing Chou is dead. We just have to make sure they never find Jack. We owe him big. The problem is Barge and Leilani don’t come cheap, our money will run out in three months. I don’t want to have to dip into my savings.”

“We’re not the only ones with financial woes. The entire ordeal has been very costly for all of us.” Crane’s eyelids looked heavy as he spoke.

Spyder’s voice perked up a bit after searching for a source of optimism. “But we’re doing rather well, considering what we’re up against.”

“Yeah, but I’m starting to see my accounts shrink too. I have to meet Speedy and pay her today, not to mention my plane to New York leaves in six hours- that’s gonna hurt. Any suckers born yesterday you can tap to donate to our noble cause?” Crane looked exhausted; something on his mind had been keeping him up for the past three nights. He hadn’t relaxed since they got out of the hospital, and a more paranoid side of his persona was tending to the details of acquiring a new safehouse.

“A few, but if I overdo it the banks might catch on and sick their deckers on me. I’d rather not unless it’s a necessity. I’ll just take a few cakewalks on the side to help with the bills. I’m sure we’ll manage. What are you going to New York for?”

“To find some allies of course. There’s a meta-friendly Yakuza organization in Manhattan; they have a friendship with the Tir, Jack might be safer with them since we don’t have the resources to take on Aztek, Fuchi and all the policlub organizations in the world. It's either them or the Tir for Jack.” Crane rubbed his eyes and stood up slowly to stretch. “While I’m gone, I want you to stick with Dallas or Dawson. They said it'd was ok for you to hang with them for a while.” He said almost in a yawn.

“Awww, you want someone to baby sit me?” Spyder had a wide smile plastered on her face as she rocked her head from side to side sarcastically “I’ll be fine on my own.”

Crane responded with a snicker “Don’t make me make you.” He growled.

“You’re very charming” she added sarcastically “but no.”

He didn’t grace her with a reply; he simply snatched her deck from the table, tucked it under his arm and walked away knowing she’d follow.

Spyder had look of a child who had their favorite toy taken away. “That’s not fair, give that back!” She followed him trying to pry her deck from his grip, but he was way too quick for her.

“It’ll be at Dawson’s crib if you want it back.”

************************************

“Hisashiburi-dane.” Speedy bowed slightly with her Asian eyes closed. Crane acknowledged by returning the bow “Mata atta-ne.” he replied. It wasn’t often that Speedy was so candid.

“I went though a lot of trouble to find this place.” She said sourly as she led him into the building.

Crane inspected the new safehouse. It didn’t look like much from the outside, but it had much more security potential than the last one. Chou had found out about Spyder’s apartment, and it seemed as though they didn't find out about the old safehouses, but Crane wasn’t going to be taking any more chances with overlooking details.

Speedy’s boot heels clipped and echoed in the empty rooms as she paced around Crane. “Ya like it? Don’t tell me you dragged me all the way from New York for nothing chummer.”

Crane remained silent and continued to inspect his surroundings.

“Yours and Spyder’s possessions have been checked for bugs and moved underground. I can have them moved in as soon as you give me your approval. Your vehicles were bugged, so we cleaned them up and moved them for ya. Jade’s got them. Now do ya like this place or not?”

Crane responded by tossing her a credstick. Speedy tucked it into her leather jacket pocket and smiled slightly.

“Anything else before I call the moving crew?”

“I have to take care of a few things in New York. I need you to set up some meetings for me”

*******************

Dawson took his sweet time before opening the door for Crane. He checked before pulling it open, Crane didn’t hide the fact that he was a little annoyed by the wait. He motioned for Spyder to enter “Ladies first.” She looked up at Dawson “Not very polite to keep a Lady waiting Dawson.” Spyder just stood there looking very aggravated, Crane finally had enough and pushed her into the apartment. “Looks like you got yerself a nice little bachelor pad. I brought you a guest.” He grinned as usual, it seemed as though they were both very angry at each other.

Spyder narrowed her eyes angrily “Dreckhead over here” pointing to Crane “wants you and Dallas to baby-sit moi while he goes pimpin’ in New York.” She folded her arms defensively and shot Crane a nasty look.

-Spyder
-Crane

By Vengence is Mine (Knight_hawk) on Unrecorded Date:

Tylor sat at the bar looking around for anything that would prove useful to him in his search. The bartender came up to him, "What'll it be?"

Tylor just looked at him, "Beer." The man just nodded and poured the drink. Tylor grimeced, it wasn't the worst he'd ever had but it was heavily watered down.

Tylor reached into his pocket and motioned for the bartender. When the fat man came Tylor pulled a picture from his pocket and showed it to the man.

"You seen this guy in here at all."

"What if I have, what's it to you?"

Tylor's hands were blurrs as they grabbed the mans collar. The man looked down and noticed he was two feet off the floor. "It's in your best interest to answer my question as quickly and truthfully as your tiny little brain will allow you. Now, have you seen this man in here or not."

The fat man gulped, "No I've never seen him before in my life."

Tylor looked the man over and then let him down. "If you do see him I was never here." Tylor tossed him a credstick and walked out the door.

Tylor slipped on his shades as he mounted his Blitzen. He was about to start the engine when three shadows apeered over him. Tylor looked and saw three trolls regarding him with what could only be seen as disgust.

"Hey, you can't come in here and cause no problems with Harry."

"Wow a whole and complete sentence. Do you need an asperine 'cause I have some if you do." Tylor replied standing up. The top of his head only came up to the trolls neck but that was tall enough.

The troll made to punch Tylor when his eyes went wide in a mix of surprise and horror. The troll looked down to see a cyberspur buried in his gut and his two friends dead next to him.

Tylor pulled the spur out of the troll and 'blew the smoke' from the barrel of his silenced Predator. He retracted the blade after wiping it off on the troll and mounted his bike.

Tylor roared away hopeing that finding his target was as easy as that. One way or another he would find this...'Dawson'.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Ray just shrugged and nodded at Crane. "Can you kids ever play nice?" he said, taking a seat on the couch. Spyder had been down here before, but Crane had only ever been upstairs, in the 'garage'. He took a moment to actually look around at the contradiction Dawson's place held with it's location. He managed a nod and a half smile himself.

"Wow. No, really Dawson. Nice place," Crane said, almost sarcastically. Ray wondered if the elf knew how to be anything other than sarcastic. Spyder plopped herself heavily on the armchair across from the couch--the same one she'd been in the night Dallas had to unplug her. Crane handed Ray her deck, smiled, and turned to leave. "I gotta run. I hope you two kids can play nice," he said, mocking Ray's earlier statement. Spyder flipped Crane the bird as he left, and Dawson closed the door and locked it down.

"So, you want a beer or something?" Dawson asked his new houseguest, as he picked up his remote and started flipping through channels. He couldn't help but think back to the first night he'd met Spyder, at the Inferno. She was still beautiful, only not as flashy as that night. She honestly looked pissed. "Hey, I can't make you stay here, Spyder. All I can do is offer you someplace to sleep where you won't wake up dead. If you got something else lined up, go ahead. I just happen to know that this is something Crane really feels strongly about."

"How the hell do you know that?" Spyder snapped back, trying to cling to her anger.

"Come on--it's written all over his face. He really cares for you. If you don't wanna stay here, stay with Dallas. If you go somewhere else, Crane's gonna hurt himself trying to kick our asses," Ray said, smiling. His channel-surfing had landed on some nature-related show, showing some caribou doing caribou-type stuff. Ray chuckled. "Wow. The All Caribou Network. Let's see what they do today, huh?" Ray chuckled some more, a low, raspy sound, as he settled back in his couch and put his feet up, Spyder still sitting across from him with her arms crossed...

By Rigel (Nat) on Unrecorded Date:

A heavy fog covered the mountainside and the misty air cooled his tired eyes. Ryuu wept openly as he approached his ancestral tomb, for his lineage ended here. “I will never understand the way fate justifies itself.” His voice was crippled with broken sobs as he brushed away the dried, crumbling flowers and refreshed their graves with crisp, brightly colored new ones. As usual he offered red bean cakes and candies for Taji, his granddaughter. He recited prayers for three hours before leaving the tomb.

His escorts surveyed the temple and secured the area around the tomb. A few watched on in sadness as the frail, aged, broken man kneeled wearily as he tended to the graves. He was a macabre phenomenon, for in the modern world it was so unusual for a parent to outlive his children. Merely to watch him was enough to break one’s heart. His body trembled as he shifted his weight onto his cane and slowly brought himself to his feet. Ryuu bowed to his last descendants as deeply as his aching back would allow. He looked back, hoping perhaps they would show themselves and give him guidance but saw nothing. He would be back on Tanabata to honor his ancestors once more.

Dai’s observation of this peaceful old man was interrupted by the voice of his superior on the com link “Dai, get the limo ready. Mr. Maeda has finished.”

He never questioned why Mr. Maeda felt he needed so many bodyguards, but one could help but to indulge in speculation. Perhaps since his only heirs were dead, the executives of his conglomerate were in a fray to claim his profitable legacy. Even still, why else would anyone wish him harm? Dai shook the thoughts out of his mind and cursed himself for questioning a man of such commendable honor and generosity. His cousin Toshi was especially grateful. She was on of the hundreds of Metas who benefited from Maeda’s equal opportunity policies and received a prestigious job in his Agricultural Engineering division.

Dai relayed the orders to the driver and alerted the rest of the squad as him and three other guards prepared to escort Mr. Maeda from the tomb. His next destination was to meet Karasu, the Yuta his family would frequently seek for spiritual guidance.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Ray padded into his kitchen, actually trying not to wake Spyder as she slept on his couch. Opening the fridge, he surveyed the damages of the past two weeks on his grocery supply. There were still 8 bottles of beer, 3 slices of cheese, and a covered crock-pot with 4-day old gumbo in it. It was time to go shopping. He scribbled a quick note, placing it on the glass-topped table near Spyder's head, then got dressed and left.

His mind must have been elsewhere as he walked from his car to the Mega-Lo-Mart, because he didn't notice the 3 guys that got out of the van he parked next to in the lot. He didn't notice one of them placing a small device under his right rear bumper, or the other 4 men converging on him from other spots around the lot. Not until he got inside the large market did the hair on the back of his neck stand up...

Ray casually strolled down the produce aisle, pushing a rickety metal cart and examining the fruits and vegetables laid out on display. out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a guy wearing a red and white jogging suit pull out a pistol. Without a second thought, Ray pulled his Predator and pumped a round into the gunman's head, then dove over the top of the mound of fruit in the low-aisled section. When the other 3 began spraying the area where Ray had just been, he was already in the next aisle. Ray kept his head down, scrambling down the aisle as best he could with the floors getting slick from the fruit innards being spewed.

At the end of the aisle, an oriental man in a grey suit stepped around the corner, levelling an SMG at Ray's head. Without thinking about it, Ray planted his left hand and brought his legs out in front of him, kicking the SMG away and up with his left foot, while firing 3 rounds into the man's midsection. As the suited guy fell, Ray grabbed the SMG in his left hand and spun to the right as he ducked around the next aisle, spraying the produce section with a hail of bullets as he went. Enough time and gunfire had passed that anybody not trying to kill Ray would already be away from this section. Before ducking down the condiments aisle, Ray counted two bad guys diving for the floor to escape his firing.

Ray thought hard as he ran down this aisle. There was a stock ladder a third of the way down, and Ray ran up it, nimbly diving into the next aisle from the top, then doubled back to the same end he'd come from. As he rounded that end, he just caught sight of one of the gunmen glancing down the first aisle he'd been in. Ray fired one shot, dropping the bad guy as his dead body instinctively clasped at the bullet hole in his skull. One left.

Ray heard the gunfire from the other end of the aisle, and ducked back around the end of the aisle divider. This situation was getting messy. There would be cops involved soon--unless they'd been paid off. Ray waited a few seconds before venturing a glance around the aisle. He saw the last gunman stalking down the aisle, his SMG at the ready. Ray ducked his head back around the corner as a spray of bullets chewed through some pickle jars where it had just been.

'I HATE pickles,' Ray thought, reaching his left hand around the corner and squeezing the trigger on the SMG. He stepped out slightly, bringing his Predator to bear on the now diving gunman, who was returning fire. Ray put his laser dot on the gunman's head, and fired the rest of his rounds from his Predator, and felt the searing pain as one of the bad guy's rounds tore through the meat of his left arm. Ray grunted and dropped the SMG, but was satisfied by the twitching corpse of his enemy. Ray spat as he walked to the medical section, reloading as he went.

Several first aid kits and a stim-patch later, Ray came walking out of the Mega-Lo-Mart, wearing a new, long-sleeve shirt and pushing a cart full of groceries. This time, he noticed the van parked next to his car, and silently cursed to himself. It had only been maybe 5 minutes since the first shots were fired, but the parking lot was already empty--and there was not a cop in sight.

Ray shook his head, and walked toward his car. As he neared the back of the van, he quickly dropped to the pavement and crawled under it. He pulled out his pocketknife and cut the fuel line before crawling back out and casually walking away from the van and his car, back toward his grocery cart. Stopping after several yards, he turned and saw the doors on the van burst open, with 3 gunmen starting to get out. Ray casually lit up a cigarette with a match, then dropped the still-lit match onto the growing stream of gas from the van. The 3 gunmen looked on in horror as the flames engulfed them, and the fuel tank on the van exploded. For good measure, Ray pressed the button on his keychain, and the explosion from his car tore through the bad guys' van as well.

'Dammit,' Ray thought, 'there goes another one. I need a new fraggin' line of work.' He got back to his grocery cart, and pushed it to the edge of the lot near a side street before pulling out his cell-phone.

"Hello?" answered the voice on the other end.

"Dallas, it's Ray. Get a car and pick me up at the Mega-Lo-Mart by my place," Ray said quickly, then hung up the phone. He didn't want a trace of any kind, and just to be sure, he dropped the phone on the pavement, and kicked it across the street, watching with some satisfaction as it exploded into tiny pieces when it hit the brick building across the way...

By Margravine (Ranger) on Unrecorded Date:

Dallas muttered in Cheyenne as he hung up, they both knew that this kind of drek was coming. He jogged out of the park he’d been passing through when Dawson’s call had come in, and slid behind the wheel of the ugliest car in Seattle. It was about 12 years old, patchy with rust, and had only one working window – driver’s side rear. He’d been given it by his friend Swift Hawk after Dallas had let him take the trophy at the warehouse battle.

He made it to Puyallup in about thirteen minutes, ignoring most traffic patterns and speed limits. The Mega-lo-mart parking lot was empty except for a pyre burning in the middle. Sirens were beginning to wail in the distance. Dallas slowed down and leaned across to push the passenger side door open. Dawson emerged from behind a Thrifty Will donation box and waited until Dallas rolled by. He swung into the car and slammed the door. Dallas sped out of the lot never having stopped.

“Golden Dragon?”

“Dawson lit a cigarette, “Contractors, I think.”

“Well, they got your neighborhood, even if they don’t have your place.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t go back there today. Spyder’s there though, so I’ll have to pick her up sooner or later.”

“Got any ideas?

“Yeah. I’ve been working on something. Calling in old favors. Know how to get to Chinatown?”

Dallas nodded, “Gonna start a backfire?”

Dawson exhaled, “Smart boy. I once acquired great face and the eternal gratitude of Amos Li when my partner and I saved his son and heir from a kidnapper who had a reputation for dicing up his victims before returning them to their families.”

“Nice. And Li is a good contact because?”

“Dawson smiled thinly, “He’s boss of the Hung Society.”

Dallas drove on, finally asking, “Okay, what’s the Hung Society? A tong?”

Dawson nodded, “More or less. What’s the matter, not up on your Chinese culture?”

Dallas snorted, “Frag, no. I have a hard enough time figuring out you guys, Vé'ho'e .”

By Vengence is Mine (Knight_hawk) on Unrecorded Date:

Tylor arrived at the Mego-lo-mart a few minutes after Dawson's escape. Looking around he saw the body bags being wheeled out of the store.

"Excuse me buddy, you got a reason to be here? How about you show me some ID."

Tylor turned and looked down on the person who had just spoken to him. A Lone Star agent stood looking at him with his hand on the butt of his gun. Tylor eased his ID out of his pocket and handed it to the man.

"So Mr. Tylor Renolds, What brings you here?" The agent asked.

"I need to do some shopping. Can I have my ID back now?"

"Not just yet. How about we take this up with my superiors?"

"I don't have the time right now. Perhaps tommarrow." Tylor said reaching into his pocket again.

"Hold it!" The agent said withdrawing his gun. "Easy now let me see your hands."

Tylor just stood there. "I think you should see what's in my pocket."

The agent didn't hesitate and shot Tylor in the head. There was a clang and Tylor shuffled back from the impact. Shaking his head he brought his hand to his forehead and felt the blood where the bullet struck him.

Faster than the cop could see Tylor ran forward and grabbed him by the throat lifting him into the air.

"Y-you're not d-dead." The cop managed to choke out.

"No, but you are." Tylor said as he snapped the mans neck to the side. Tylor dropped the body and bent to pick up his ID when the bullets began to hit his armor. He calmly stood up and walked towards the nearest officer. "This badge mean anything to you?"

The cop gasped and ordered a cease fire. Tylor looked at his coat and sighed, the repairs would cost him big time.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Dawson smiled, exhaling another cloud of smoke, and adjusted his bandaged arm. He reached down to roll the window down, and pulled the handle off. Dawson raised an eyebrow, and showed the handle to Dallas. "Nice car," Dawson said.

"I can't believe you BROKE my car!" Dallas said, a hint of a joke in his voice. Dawson chuckled, then looked at his still closed window.

"How'm I s'posed to smoke with a closed window?" Dawson asked nonchalantly. Dallas just shrugged, making a left at the next corner. Dawson nodded, turning his head to look out his window again.

Then he put his right elbow through it.

Dallas started slightly, turning to see Dawson clearing the rest of the glass fragments from the window frame with his gun. Dawson blew his smoke out the now open window, then turned to face Dallas again. "There," he said, smiling. "Much better." Dallas couldn't help but chuckle.

His mind back on the matters at hand, Dawson began talking about his run-in at the Mega-Lo-Mart. "Lonestar was paid off," he said, smoking thoughtfully.

"You sure? I heard sirens as I pulled up," Dallas offered.

"Yeah. They didn't expect it to spill outside. It was supposed to be clean and tidy, contained in the store, and spun as 'gang violence' or some crap. They didn't expect ol' Ray to survive."

"First mistake," Dallas chuckled. He'd seen Ray survive drek that would kill a horse.

"The sirens you heard were probably eyewitnesses calling 911 when the cars blew up. They're probably being told what to report as we speak. Turn right up here, kid," Dawson said, pointing. "Amos likes to keep his headquarters low-profile. Let me do the talking, and just go with the flow when we get in there, ok?" Dawson put on a pair of shades as he shoved the door open with a creak and scrape of metal. Dallas got out and walked up next to Dawson.

"Drek!" Dawson muttered, stopping dead in his tracks.

"What?" Dallas asked urgently, scanning the 3-story brick walk-up for any signs of trouble.

"I left my groceries back at the supermarket," Ray said, shaking his head. "At least I didn't pay for 'em," he added with a smile, as he walked up to the double wooden doors and knocked...

By Margravine (Ranger) on Unrecorded Date:

The door was opened by a beautiful girl in a crimson cheongsam. She couldn't have been more than five feet tall and looked about sixteen or seventeen. She had bobbed black hair and large almond eyes that opened wide with question, "My I help you please?" she asked in a clear, musical voice.

Dallas perked up and flashed his most dazzling smile at her, but allowed Dawson to answer for them, "I called Mr. Li earlier this week. Please tell him Ray Dawson is here to see him."

She studied them for a moment longer, then stepped back to let them in. They passed into a well equipped office that was humming with activity. Besides the receptionist who'd let them in, there were two secretaries and three young men sitting or standing in strategic locations about the room.

"Wait here, please," said the girl with exquisite courtesy. The three guards all cast casually curious glances at them but no one else spoke to them, or seemed to pay them much heed.

"Down boy," muttered Dawson to Dallas as the younger man watched the girl walk across to the secretary's desk.

Dallas did not change his focal point, but did alter it's intensity, "Don't worry, I'll be good," he murmured.

The crimson girl returned and inclined her head, "Mr. Li will see you Mr. Dawson. Please follow me."

They followed her through a short passage that ended in another double door. The girl pushed the doors open and ushered them inside. Behind a glass topped desk sat a slender Asian man in early middle age. He was in shirtsleeves, and data chips were spread about his work space. He rose when they entered, "Raymond," he smiled, "Good to see you. Come in, sit down."

He came around the desk to shake Dawson's hand, "Thank you Lily," he added to the girl. She nodded and left, closing the door quietly.

"Amos," said Dawson releasing the other man's hand, "This is my associate Dallas Whitecrow."

Li cheerfully shook Dallas' hand then ushered them both into comfortable seats and had them supplied them with beverages, "Now, Ray, what is this about? What can I do for you?"

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Ray almost looked uncomfortable to ask, but chose his words carefully. "An attempt was made on my life today, Amos," Ray said, leaning forward seriously.

"My goodness. Are you all right?" Amos asked, concerned. Ray nodded.

"Yes, I'm fine. The attempt really isn't why I'm here," Ray continued. "What do you know about the Golden Dragon organization?"

Amos Li's face went ashen for a moment. After a brief pause, he leaned back in his chair heavily. "I would not anger them if I were you, my friend." Amos then smiled. "Of course, you probably already have--which is why you're here now. What do you need from me?"

"I just need a little static--and more than just my ears to the rail," Ray answered, shrugging slightly. Amos nodded.

"You've come to the right place, Ray. I'm very good at getting information."

"We also might need to become deceased--depending on how far this goes," Ray added.

"Yes, Mr. Fujiyama is nothing if not thorough," Amos answered, smiling. "Alright, Ray. I will help you. Can you still keep Lonestar away from my operations?"

Ray smiled. "You know I'm not on the force any more, Amos. You're on your own there."

Amos laughed slightly, smiling again. "I will have a team watch your back for any pursuers--and deal with them as appropriate."

"Thank you," Ray said, bowing his head respectfully.

"This makes us even, you realize," Amos added with a smile. Ray nodded his agreement. The implications needn't be said aloud; to assume such ignorance would be rude. "Please, feel free to stay and have some refreshment, while I have a team assembled for you," Amos said, pressing a button on his phone. Almost immediately, Lily returned, bowing politely. "Lily, please see to our guests. Make sure they're comfortable,"

Lily bowed. "This way, please," she said, to which Ray and Dallas both stood. Ray turned and bowed at Amos one last time, voicing his gratitude yet again before following Lily and Dallas.

"What's up now?" Dallas whispered as Lily made them wait while she entered a door and closed it behind her.

Ray just smiled, "Now we get the 'fringe benefits' of a connection with a Tong leader who runs a chinese spa." No sooner had he said this than Lily returned, holding two silk robes for the men. Ray and Dallas exchanged smiles, and Ray gestured forward with his right arm. "After you," he said to Dallas, who accepted the smaller robe and followed Lily through a beaded curtain...

By Margravine (Ranger) on Unrecorded Date:

Lily took them to the baths and bowed them in, "My uncle says that you are to call if there is anything we can do for you. Here or other wise," she handed them each her card: Li and Associates. Lily Bao, Crisis Management.

The attendants arrived - female all - and led the two men into the baths. Lily smiled and disappeared through the beads. Dallas watched her go with interest.

By Rigel (Nat) on Unrecorded Date:

“Good evening passengers. I’m Mara, and there’s Tina standing by row 24, we’ll be your flight attendants for this evening. Welcome to Sub-orbital flight 29415677 nonstop to New York. We will be taxiing onto the runway shortly. Our Current ETA is 9pm Eastern Standard Time. While we are awaiting take off, please take a moment to review the safety features of this aircraft in the pamphlet tucked into the back of the seat adjacent to you. The aircraft is a Super Concord Orbital Class SSE with six emergency exits located…” Crane saw the stewardess’ sensuous lips move, but all he heard was “blah, blah. Blah,” He was exhausted and decided to indulge in a nap. Uncomfortable and cramped as he was in coach, he was too tired to care. Even that fat middle aged man sitting next to him, who smelled like a moldy basement was ignorable, such was his need for sleep. It would be the first forty-five minutes of rest he’d get since his stay in the hospital. He packed a few stim patches to get him through the next few days in New York. The only thing he couldn’t bring was his usual implements of war; the airlines were impeccable with searching for weapons and explosives these days. NMR scans were standard for all passengers, after one walk though the scanners, the security guard looking at the screen and tell you what you ate for lunch. No loss, Speedy could hook him up with anything he needed once he landed in JFK.

********

“Mr. Mastumri is pleased that you have managed to contain the problem on your own.“ the voice awated a reponse.

“The project went as planned, the virus was successful in its intended purpose. I await Matsumri’s instructions.” Fujiyama lowered his head slightly towards the blank video panel screen.

“And Dr. Moore?” Asked the encrypted voice.

Fujiyama found it difficult to swallow. “We are trying to pick up from where Chou left off. He shared nothing with us in his investigation. We are left with little useful information and the individuals who remain from his team have been uncooperative. Our adversaries have taken advantage of Chou’s shortcomings. However, we are investigating a few leads, so far they’ve been promising.”

“I’m afraid that Mr. Matsumuri will not be pleased. The longer it takes, the less forgiving he will be. I suggest you double your efforts- for your sake.”

“As Mr. Matsumuri commands.” Fujiyama bowed his head a second time before the

Fujiyama inhaled sharply as he relaxed back into his chair. By the time his men moved in after Chou failed to emerge from the warehouse everyone held captive inside had vanished. They gathered that Chou’s interrogation of the hostages/test subjects was unsuccessful in yielding information Dr. Moore’s location. Two of his best deckers had died after trying to find Spyder and the second test subject, Crane. Chou kept a copy of Adam Learner’s records, which included and an old optical disk backup of Aztec and Fuchi’s personnel files. This yielded Spyder’s identity as “Aurore Etienne”, a former member of their Braindance engineering team. Their apartments were cleaned out, and any leads to potential safehouses were nothing but dead ends. Their scouts had seached the city, and so far none of them had found anything. If they didn’t find at least one of their missing adversaries soon he’d have much to answer for. He ecided to call Hiroshi to turn up the heat and motivate his underlings. He dialed his number on the phone and positioned himself in front of the video panel where Hiroshi’s face appeared.

“Hiroshi, any news?”

“The mercenaries we hired have turned up dead. But we have narrowed down the search to a forty-block radius. I have organized seven squads to scout the area. We will have Dawson soon enough.”

“That’s not good enough Hiroshi. I expect more from you.”

Hiroshi felt sick with nervousness. The idea of being another dead scapegoat didn’t settle well with him.

“We have McNeil.” Hirosi knew this news would prolong his life at least a few days longer.

“That’s what I like to hear, where was he?”

“We found him in Los Angeles, apparently on his way to Chicago. He’d spent the past few weeks working freelance as a street doc.”

“Has he yielded anything useful?”

“Yes, he gave us three new leads to follow on the location of Dr. Moore.”

“Then find him. I want an update in three hours.” Fujiyama hung up the phone, leaving Hiroshi happy to be alive. This was more pressure than he was used to, and he owed Jiro big for delivering McNeil.

His phone rang once more; luckily it wasn’t Fujiyama, but it seemed as if Jiro had known he was thinking of him.

“How many more of Fujiyama’s failures must you correct for him before it’s clear to you that you should be working for us? Koga-San wishes to know your decision.”

“I’m still considering it.”

“Koga-San doesn’t like to be kept waiting, I hope you don’t take his patience for granted” Jiro notice Hiroshi was starting to sweat.

“You will have my decision by tomorrow evening.”

“That will suffice.”

By Rigel (Nat) on Unrecorded Date:

Crane woke to the discomfort of having his ears pop, his neck felt stiff as he turned his head slightly and opened his eyes. The concord was descending and the low mechanical thump of the unfolding landing gear could be heard over the engines. A baby crying four aisles back made him aware of a dull headache originating from his eye sockets. The aircraft swayed as it hovered above the runway and then shook with a jolt as the landing gear made contact with the ground. He was eager to get out of the crowded cabin, and paced quickly to the parking ramp where Speedy waited to meet him. He checked his watch, and set it ahead to Eastern Standard Time: 9pm.

“Tsuru, you look like dreck chummer.” She commented with little reservation as she opened her car trunk. “You should get some sleep if you can.”

“I don’t have time. Did you set up the meeting?” he said as he stuffed his roller-duffel into the trunk and hopped into the passenger seat.

“Sorry, I tried my best but a meeting with Oshiro-San is impossible.”

“Than this trip to New York has been a complete waste of my time.”

“Not so fast, I did get you the next best thing if you want it.”

“What might that be?” Crane couldn’t hide his disappointment.

“One of his trusted council members. Kohana Levinthall, she would be willing to see you.”

“And why should I trust Kohana?”

“Oshiro-San doesn’t trust just anyone. If I can’t get you a meeting with him, the only thing that would come close is his council. Take it or leave it, chummer. It was the best I could do. You know how paranoid Oshiro-San is! He doesn’t meet with just anyone, especially one of us gutterpunks.”

“Gutterpunks?” Crane snapped sounding somewhat offended. “Ki-ni shinai-de.”"forget it."

“Tsuru, either you’re being an ass, or too damn picky for your own good. I’m guessing there’s something you’re not telling me?”

“Hidoi-na.”"too bad."

“Nande sonna-koto iu-noyo?!” "why are you speaking to me like that?!"Speedy was beginning to lose her composure.

“Perhaps I’m not in a talkative mood, Perhaps this isn’t the place.” He said trying to diffuse Speedy.

“Wakatta. I’m starving let’s get something to eat. Takashimaya ok with you?”

“Perfect.”

Speedy was a lousy driver as they all were in New York. Takashimaya was a Japanese department store with an admirable restaurant on the top floor. As they walked through the main entrance and headed up the escalators, Crane spotted a mannequin clothed in an outfit made for Spyder. Speedy noticed where he directed his attention and complimented his taste in fashion. He bought the outfit without hesitation before heading up to the restaurant.

The green tea was a little too relaxing as he found it more difficult to keep his eyes open. Speedy had started her bowl of miso soup and watched as he opened his bag, fished out a patch and placed it onto his arm.

“Tsuru, how long has it been since you slept?”

He glanced at his watch before answering “I’m skirting seven days, excluding the half hour of unconsciousness on the flight.”

“So are you going to tell me now or later?”

“I'd rather not get you involved if I can help it.”

“Then it must be bad, and I’m even more curious. Have the tridas in Seattle given you some trouble?”

“No, just the ones visiting from Hong Kong.” He said casually.

Speedy nearly coughed up a chunk of tofu.

“What?” Crane asked as it was apparent Speedy had some knowledge of the incedent.

“If its what I think it is…”

“Don’t say it. Not here.” Crane said through his teeth.

“I heard about-“

“Don’t make me shoot you. It can wait. Let’s just enjoy our sushi and be happy. Ok?”

After dinner they hopped back into her car, and Speedy could harly wait to hear the news. “Kay chummer. It wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with a yak named Chou, would it.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” He wanted to see how much she knew before deciding what to tell her.

“A few weeks ago some local triad members came to me for supplies. I overheard them chatting about how someone managed to blow Chou’s head off in Seattle. I know they sent someone from Hong Kong for something big, I just didn’t know it was Chou- he’s one of the more feared leaders amongst the triads, you know.”

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t kill Chou.” He said innocently.

“But you know who did.”

“No I don’t.” Crane was completely deadpan in his reply, but Speedy wasn’t buying it.

“Whatever, how much do want?”

“Don’t waste your time.”

*******

It was 3:40am when checked into the hotel. He wouldn’t give Speedy any additional information on what went down with Chou. She knew much less about the incident than he hoped. It was safer that way even though he could have put the money she offered to good use. Since Speedy couldn’t arrange the meeting with Oshiro, he had to think of something else to make his time productive.

After he checked the hotel room for anything suspicious, Crane peeled off the stim-patch from his arm and got into the shower. By the time he climbed out of the shower he was so tired he could barely stand, his peripheral vision was playing games with him and his eye sockets felt like they were caving in. He crawled into bed, placed his gun under the pillow next to him and cocooned himself in the blankets. His thoughts began to dissolve into a dream where a memory began to surface. His head was dangling forward, and his hands were bound helplessly behind his back. His eyes were still closed as his focus teetered on the edge of unconsciousness. A dull throbbing that pained his skull made him remember the blow to the head he’d received as Chou dragged them out of Spyder’s apartment. He felt quite drugged, for him the sensations were familliar, just not under these particular circumstances.

“I don’t think Spyder knows anything. She has a low pain threshold. We would have gotten something out of her before she passed out.” The voice was close and spoke in Japanese, a language he was more than familiar with.

“She’s weak, like the rest of her kind.” Hissed Chou as he paced back and forth. Crane heard his footfalls stop in front of him. The sound of hinges creaking could be heard in the distance as someone walked through the door. The origin of the noise was too difficult for him to distinguish in his drugged state.

“Sir, Mr. Matsumuri has asked for an update on our progress.” Said a new voice in the distance.

“We’ll question this brainless idiot next, wake him when I return.”

A strange sound invaded his dream and Crane leaped out of bed with a jolt, his gun in his hand instinctively as he scanned his surroundings. Slightly disoriented, he faintly heard a man and woman laughing in the hallway as they walked to a room approximately three doors down. He heard some keys dangle shortly before the muffled sound of a distant closing door followed with silence. Although it was apparent that the noisy couple disturbed his sleep, he checked his room just to be sure. After a thorough search of the room he triple checked the door before climbing back into bed. It was 5:37 am; he’d only been asleep a few hours. He was still very tired, but the fuzzy memory that just reared its ugly head demanded his attention.

Sooner or later Fujiyama would be back to finish business, and the fact that they hadn’t run into his henchmen yet was an indication they’d done a good job hiding so far. Now they just had to make other arrangements for Jack before he drained their funds. If Fujiyama found Bertram or McNeil, he’d at least find out where to start looking for Barge and Leilani.

He sat up to meditate on what to do next. He only had two options, stay for another day and try to get Oshiro’s attention, or go back to Seattle and finish taking care of details there. His phone rang and interrupted his train of thought.

“What?” Crane snapped, still apparently in need of sleep.

“I got Bertram here. He needs a bath by the way and I’m running out of Lysol. When am I gonna get paid?” Miter asked impatiently.

“Tomorrow night.” Crane replied feeling a little more at ease now that there was one less thing to worry about.

“That’s fine, so long as I don’t have to smell him.” Miter paused as she turned to order one of her goons “Yea, Paco, why don’t you put him in the closet or hose him down or something - no don’t put him on the couch!”

Crane couldn’t help but crack a smile as he listened to Miter carry on. Rat shamans weren’t known for consistent hygiene. “Good work. I’ll see ya tomorrow. You know where to meet me.”

“Of course.”

“Cya.”

Next he called Spyder’s new number, but her phone was turned off as she was probably asleep. He’d try back in a few hours after getting some rest.

By Vengence is Mine (Knight_hawk) on Unrecorded Date:

The door closed silently behind Tylor as he entered his hotel room. He through his keys down on the table and took off his coat. He held the coat up to the lamp and frowned as he began to count the holes in it.

Tylor tossed the coat onto the bed in disgust and walked into the bathroom to get a shower.

The phone rang as he got out of the shower.

"Have you found him yet?" asked a raspy voice from the other side.

"No but I am close."

"Remember he is not to be harmed. Anyone else is of no concern to us as long as he survives."

"There is no need to worry, I am the best at what I do and that's what you pay me for."

"So you say. Just remember that if he dies so dies the world...and you." The voice said before it hung up.

Tylor looked at the picture again and hoped that the man was worth working for the Dragons.

By Margravine (Ranger) on Unrecorded Date:

Amos Li sat behind his desk his fingers steepled under his chin. If his friend Dawson was in danger from the Golden Dragon, then it must have been Dawson and his associates who had foiled the Dragon's plans in Seattle. So he did owe Dawson another favor, but since the present one was probably both long term and dangerous, he would roll all payback into one. Perhaps the warehouse battle - which was common knowledge in the underground even if the details were not - had broken the power of Fujiyama and the hated Golden Dragon in Seattle. Perhaps now was the time for the lodges to unite and sweep that particular infestation from their city. One thing that would assist in that was keeping Dawson and the Whitecrow boy alive. He smiled and buzzed Lily.

"Yes, uncle?"

"Make sure that the White Tigers know that the protection of Mr. Dawson and Mr. Whitecrow is a priority. They are to use their best men."

"Of course, uncle."

"Has the new semester started for you at University, Lily?"

She smiled faintly, "No, uncle, not for three weeks yet."

"Good. You are my liaison with these two. I have some serious business to conduct with the other lodges in the area, I may not always be immediately available."

"Of course, uncle," she said bowing out of the office as Li began making calls.

*******

Dallas had enjoyed the baths. The cycle of frigid and steaming water was invigorating. Dawson had opted for a massage too, but Dallas dawdled, trying to pump the attendants for information about Lily Bao. Most of them either did not or pretended to not speak English, but one, Lien, took pity on his smitten state.

"She is the niece of Mr. Li. Youngest daughter of his elder sister," offered Lien in a conspiratorial whisper.

"She lives down here?"

Lien shook her head, "She attends University. In her last year there. Probably will go to law school like her sister."

Another attendant arrived with Dallas' cleaned clothes and Lien clammed up. Dallas offered her a wink as he dressed and she smothered a giggle. He walked out to wait for Dawson.

Dawson joined Dallas in the lounge area, looking clean and relaxed, "Feel better?"

"Yeah, those girls do a mean field dressing," he said flexing his wounded arm.

"Where too now?"

"Now you drop me a particular address in Redmond and disappear. Keep yourself under cover tonight, don't take any risks. Keep your back covered."

"And you?"

"I've got to change my face and go get Spyder. My place is off limits for the duration, but I've got options. And I'll be harder to pinpoint alone. You gotta admit, kid, together we make a distinctive pair."

Dallas nodded reluctantly, loathe to leave his partner to fend for himself, "I know. You're right, but are you sure?"

"Yeah. I've been at this shadowcreeping drek longer than you, don't worry. I'll meet you at Franklin Plaza tomorrow so we can meet this Seaton guy. We're gonna need the money if we're gonna be underground."

*******
Dallas was all ready waiting at the Franklin Plaza Sculpture Garden when Dawson drove by looking for a parking spot. He was perched on the back of a bench offering him a better field of vision, but keeping his back covered by the massive and blocky steel sculpture – paranoia was now a way of life for him.

Dawson parked the faded blue Americar across the street. Dallas watched as Spyder slid out of the passenger seat and the pair of them strode purposefully across the busy boulevard. Dallas tossed his head absently as an errant breeze blew a long strand of hair across his nose and studied Spyder as she approached.

She had the look of a thoroughbred that had been used hard, but not broken. There was still a determined spark of iron will in her eyes, and he smiled to himself, relieved. He climbed down from the bench and nodded, “Spyder.”

She looked at him, knowing instantly that was all there was, no unwanted sympathy, no pitying expressions, just acceptance that she was there, that she was back. He and Dawson were the only ones she’d seen since the ‘events of that evening’ who hadn’t wanted to play twenty questions with her, and she appreciated that.

Dallas glanced up briefly as a few droplets of rain pattered down, “So are you gonna play too, Spyder?”

She shrugged, “I’ve got nothing else on.”

Dallas grinned, “Nothing like an enthusiastic team.”

They walked across the plaza, unconsciously quickening their pace as the rainfall increased, before they ducked into the Commissary.

The Franklin Commissary was a recent attempt to copy an old style automat. Food was viewed through banks of little windows, when cred was deposited, an individual window could be opened and the food removed. It had been very trendy, and hence very crowded for months, but the novelty had worn off quickly and rumor had it that if custom continued to drop, the place would fail. Its only lingering claim to fame was that it was possible to buy real fresh fruit in season there.

Dallas strolled across to a bank of display windows and purchased a pair of apples. Dawson passed him casually and grated “Well,” as he examined the displays.

“Tall, dark, human, at five o’clock. Coffee is off on the right hand wall.”

Dawson headed for the coffee urns, giving Seaton a sidelong inspection. He was perhaps Dawson’s age, tall, black, with a high, narrow forehead, and a large semi-circular divot missing from his right ear. He watched Dallas approach – apparently in a modified working mode - and join him at the table. Dawson filled a mug the size of a troll’s fist with black coffee. Spyder waited impatiently until he moved aside and filled her own mug, then the pair moved across and sat down at Seaton’s table without preamble.

Seaton had his cop face on as he appraised the trio across from him – he’d all ready checked out the Indian – who’d had a short but interesting career. The other man was a bit of a surprise, he knew the face; Ray Dawson. He knew him by reputation – used to be the man for rumors at Lone Star. Not that he had ever gossiped, just caused a lot of it. The woman looked vaguely familiar, he’d check her out later.

Dallas performed the introductions and Seaton sat back sipping at his drink, wondering were to begin, “Ork women began disappearing about 16 months ago – I only know that ‘cause I went back and checked. Nobody pulled the missing persons reports together until the grave was uncovered. The first victims appeared to be transients, homeless, that type. The most recent were small time clerks, and more ‘respectable’ types, but nothing to raise an uproar – no kids, like. The viciousness of the attacks seems to be getting worse too.”

“Cause of death?” asked Dawson.

“Disembowelment,” Spyder wrinkled her knows at the mental image, and Seaton continued, “There’s always at least one internal organ missing – usually the liver. The more recent victims are missing most of their vital organs.”

“Weapon?”

“Long, sharp blades.”

“Nothing else? No gun shots? No toxins?”

Seaton shook his head, “I know, I wouldn’t want to take on an ork with nothing but a knife, myself, but someone did. At least 22 times. The last one apparently about two weeks ago”

He subtly slid a chip across the table, “These are the files, and what little investigation I’ve been able to do,” Spyder casually palmed the chip and went on drinker her coffee.

“The bottom line here is that Lone Star is corporate and an investigation of this kind really rips the hell out of profit margin. We got bigger and more public crimes, stuff that actually makes the legit media and not just the screams. That’s what they want us to focus on,” he glanced at Dawson, “You know the score. But this shouldn’t be happening when we can stop it. I dug up a grand total of 15,000 out of the discretionary fund and earmarked it for my consultant team – that’s you. So what do you say?”

They shared a glance and Dawson shrugged almost imperceptibly. "Did you run a check on the human body?" asked Dallas.

Seaton nodded slowly, "Ninety seven percent confirmed as Alistair McNeil, 39, out of Aztech arcology."

"Frag," said Dallas, not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. He paused then nodded, "we'll run the investigation. We'll let you know in a couple of weeks if we turned up anything."

Seaton looked like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders and slid a cred stick for 15,000 across the table which Dallas palmed, "I'll be waiting for your call," he said as he rose. He left the commissary without a backwards glance.

Spyder finished her coffee, "So at least we got a little spending money. Wonder if we'll live to spend it," she grinned maniacally

By Vengence is Mine (Knight_hawk) on Unrecorded Date:

Tylor mused over where to go next in search of his target as he ran a wetstone over the edge of his cyberspur. The light gleamed of the red tinted weapon protruding from his right arm. He'd had a matching blade in his left arm but lost it in a skirmish and had the caseing removed rather than replace it.

The news reports offered little to aid his search. Tylor figured he'd have to do this the old fashion way for now and try not to attract too much attention. The run in with Lone Star had cost him and he knew it. That little altercation was probably why his employers had called him.

Tylor retracted the blade and focused on the mirror in front of him. One of the bullet impacts had jarred his left eye, he now set about the task of readjusting it.

Ten minutes later Tylor marched out of his hotel room and into the rain. Dawson was out there and Tylor meant to find him.

By Margravine (Ranger) on Unrecorded Date:

"So where are we going?"

"Ever been to a college where the kids all talk about the mysterious tunnels and secret room under the campus."

Spyder looked nostalgic for a moment, "Yeah. But there never are any."

Dawson grinned, "This time there are."

The damp tunnel the were walking down ended in a steel door. Dawson rapped on it and a murder hole opened up as they were inspected. The door than opened on to a far drier room, comfortably equipped with old overstuffed furniture and a simsense deck for the guards use. Behind the door was Leilani, there were also two orks and a dwarf in the room.

"Hi Leilani. How's Jack?" asked Dallas politely.

The young troll grinned roguishly, "Still trying to experiment between experiments. We got rooms for you all under Peller Dormitory," she said leading them through another series of tunnels," There's an easier access to them than this, but first time through you gotta go through the guard room."

"Understandable."

"We have a schedule of safe access times, and you all know better than to let anyone follow you and live right?" she asked rhetorically.

The rooms Leilani showed them were dry, thickly carpeted to cut down on the chill, and sparsely furnished. There was one large room - the cider block walls covered in old movie and concert posters. One old fashioned steel desk covered with a computer sat in one corner and a kitchenette in the other there were two couches - one plaid, one floral - and a couple of chairs around a small soda fountain table taking up the rest of the room. Two closet sized bedrooms opened directly off the main room big enough only to hold a cot and foot locker each.

"There ya are," said Leilani, "No one should bother you here, not even us."

"Thanks," said Dallas slipping her a cred stick, "And thanks for the easy terms."

She grinned toothily, "Friends are friends. Anything up to a 15% discount."

After she was gone, Dallas threw himself onto the plaid sofa, swore at it, and moved to the floral, " Fraggin' just bought the lease to my new place too."

Spyder gave him the eye, "Where's your new place?"

Dallas told her and she jacked into the deck she'd been carrying over her shoulder. After a couple minutes she laughed and jacked out, "Elvis Barlow? Your lease is under the name Elvis Barlow?"

"Poor sod was the right age and general description. Found him in graves registration, CAS," Dallas shrugged.

She shook her head, "Better safe."

Dallas squinched around trying to make his seat more comfortable as Dawson stalked around their new domicile, "Don't worry kid. I don't think we'll be here much."

"Spyder crossed to the small fridge and searched it's interior, "I haven't heard from Crane yet, but we'll have to go and lead the boy in when he gets back from NYC."

"What's he doing there?"

She stood up, a can of nuka cola in her hand, a wary expression on her face, "Maybe making arrangements for Jack's safe removal," she said slowly.

Dallas sat up alertly and Dawson turned on her curiously, "With who?"

Her expression was shutting down, not wanting to share the info with these two.

"Come on, Spyder," reasoned Dallas, "We're pretty far from being the enemy."

Her eyes shifted between the two. At last she sat down at the little table with a sigh, "We owe Jack big time and we want him kept safe. Crane thinks that there’s a meta-friendly Yakuza organization in Manhattan; they have a friendship with the Tir and that Jack might be safer with them since we don’t have the resources to take on Aztech and Renraku and all the policlub organizations in the world. He thinks it should either be them or the Tir for Jack.”

Dallas jumped to his feet, "Chrissake, he can't seriously be thinking of handing Jack over to the Yaks! I don't care what their rep is. Didn't we learn anything from our last little adventure? Wasn't the Golden Dragon organization a weird Yak splinter after all. Frag, Spyder, it's not like the rest of us were cutting Jack loose to fend for himself. Why didn't you guys tell us about this."

Her gaze leveled dangerously on Dallas, "I didn't hear any news from your quarter, kid."

"Shut up," barked Dawson and the other two turned to him startled out of their argument, "Okay, so no one shared the info they should have, but we're all running the same line; keep Jack's ass out of the fire. Dallas is right Spyder, the Yak - any Yak - is unequivocally out. The Tir may hold possibilities. And the kid has been working on getting Jack in under the wing of the NAN. So shut it and lets get to work."

By Rigel (Nat) on Unrecorded Date:

“I’d have more faith in Crane if I were you.” Spyder said as she jacked in again and closed her eyes.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Ray shook his head slowly, then paced around the room once. He walked up to the small, grimy mirror above the small, grimy sink, and pulled a plastic case out of his pocket. Removing a small tube and a thick-bristled brush, he emptied the tube into the brush and ran it evenly through his hair. He carefully replaced the brush, and pulled a putty-looking nose and chin from the case, and stuck them carefully on his face. Dallas noticed Ray's hair begin to change color, to a golden blonde shade. Ray then took a long strip and carefully placed it on the left side of his face, from the corner of his eye to his jawline. He smoothed out a matching blonde mustache on his face, and put on a pair of glasses. Completing his disguise, he turned back around to look at an astonished Dallas.

"So, planning a little outing, are we?" Dallas asked, smiling.

"Just have a few things to take care of," Ray answered, a strong german/eastern european accent disguising his voice. "You stay and watch Spyder, no?" Ray smiled. Dallas almost burst out laughing. It was a completely effective disguise--only to Dallas it was completely hilarious to see Ray like this. Somehow, it was just not like him at all.

"Good luck, man," Dallas offered as Ray walked out of the new safehouse.

Ray knew that Fujiyama wanted blood, and the longer the good guys stayed alive, the harder Fujiyama would look. He knew, eventually, that they would be found, and Fujiyama would have them killed. There were several options still open--one was to keep hiding until Fujiyama found them. Ray didn't like that. Another was to be seen in public often, and stage death to get Fujiyama off their backs and give them some breathing room--an alright idea, but that still gave Fujiyama room to discover them again, and the game would start anew. No, the only other plan Ray could think of was to get rid of Fujiyama before he got rid of them. Ray smiled to himself as he hotwired a car parked outside a donut shop, and drove into the Seattle night.

He had some preparations to make...

By Vengence is Mine (Knight_hawk) on Unrecorded Date:

Tylor watched from his seat as a man stole a car just outside. He couldn't see the face clearly but there was something about it. Shrugging he turned to the counter.

"That your car bud?" He asked jerking his thumb towards the car.

"Schiest, Mein Auto!" The man swore in a heavy German accent.

Tylor chuckled as he headed out the door and hopped onto his bike. Tylor roared away wondering what to try next. Maybe he'd try a damsil in distress.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Dawson drove through the Barrens, rolling by burning trash cans and rubble-piles, bombed out buildings and makeshift hovels for the outcasts of society. He drove the car right up in front of a building he knew was an ork gang's hang-out, got out, and tossed the ignition assembly up onto the front step. He put his left foot up on the front bumper, and checked the Colt Manhunter strapped there. Gathering his coat around his shoulders, he strode deeper into the Barrens, toward the rear entrance of his parking garage/apartment. He had a small list of items he needed, and all of them were over there. He also needed to make some secure phone calls--he'd find pay phones somewhere along the way...

By Rigel (Nat) on Unrecorded Date:

It was 6am when Crane woke up, he still felt groggy so he took a cold shower. As he combed he hair in front of the mirror he noticed a spot on his neck where Speedy had left her mark from the night before. Since he was travelling light it didn’t take long to pack up after getting dressed. It was safer on the move and needed to run a few errands and get some information before heading back west. He’d snuck out of the hotel through the rear exit labeled “freight entrance” when Speedy called.

“Tsuru! I’m gonna kill you! Why didn’t you tell me you were in this much dreck?” she cursed ferociously, and he winced with discomfort as the volume of her voice sent his eardrum vibrating. Apparently she’d done a little investigating on her own. “None of your business.” Crane ground his teeth audibly.

“Yeah well, if you’d like live to see me again I suggest you get the frag out of the building and don’t let yourself be seen. I’ve got some info for ya.”

“I’m already gone, we’ll meet as planned.”

**

Speedy hated Alphabet City, the entire place made her skin crawl. Rarely would she go though so much trouble for anyone, but they had a history. The neighborhood remained unchanged over the years; there were endless blocks of filmy tenements, it was by miracle alone that this corner of Manhattan hadn’t been demolished. What was left of the FDR Drive Lillian Wald housing project was a crumbling palace for the rats and squatters. Crane didn’t like it either, but the Yaks were less likely to poke around the Blood’s territory. He looked at Speedy as she approached, she’d put on a long fashionable coat that was probably armored.

“I guess this means you’re not staying until tomorrow?” she asked although she was prepared to receive a no.

Crane shook his head.

“Pity, I had a few things planned.” Her voice had a subtle coy tone about it.

He smiled in disbelief. “Ordinarily I would, but things have gotten so crazy lately.” He said gently so as not to upset her. “You said you have some info for me?” his left hand extended a credstick.

“Well, one of the GD’s deckers hacked JFK’s security cam archive and spotted you. And you’re lucky Oshiro doesn’t get along with the GD, his clan is one of the few that aren’t out there looking for you.” She turned her head as a rat scurried into a sewer grate to her left, making her step further away from it. “So what did you want to talk to him about anyway? If it was GD related I probably could have got that meeting for you if I’d known.”

Strangely Crane didn’t answer right away, so she tuned to face him but he was nowhere to be found. Too bad he didn’t stick around for the rest of the info she had for him, but that could be relayed to Spyder instead. She looked down at the credstick he gave her feeling somewhat lonely.

**

Spyder was quite irritated by the exchange and the recent accommodations were claustrophobic to say the least. She wondered if Crane had tried to contact her earlier, she’d shut her phone off during the night to avoid speaking to him for good measure. Now she tried calling him and he wasn’t answering. “Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead…“ she repeated in her head over and over to herself as she called Speedy.


“How’s he doing?”

“He’s gone chummer. First thing this morning I heard the GD picked up his trail at JFK. The second I told him he vanished, that was seven hours ago.”

“New York isn’t the place to find him anymore.”

“Exactly.”

Crane was exceptional at disappearing, but regardless she couldn’t help but worry about the only sarcastic freak that put up with her antics.

“Listen Chicky,” Speedy added, “I’m sending you some info that he night need. He’ll turn up eventually, and when he does tell that wanker to give me a call.”

By Margravine (Ranger) on Unrecorded Date:

Dallas had tucked his hair under the brimless cap that was all the style among school kids these days, and donned the cuffed pants and baggy shirt that was as much a uniform among students as plaid vest and navy trousers might have been. He had been grateful that Spyder had virtually chased him out of the bolt hole, she had as much desire to be baby sat as he had to baby sit. She had agreed to throw a run down on the new McNeil on to the pile of work she had to cover just to get him to say he would leave. So armed with the Aztech personal file and police record of Alistair McNeil, Danny's late brother, Dallas, looking about 15, emerged from the university's bowels and went off to pursue some inquiries of his own.

By Vengence is Mine (Knight_hawk) on Unrecorded Date:

The door to Tylors room opened and closed quietly as a single form snuck into the room. It walked over to the bed and raised a sword into the air. The sword glinted in the little light that came through the curtains. The figure swung the sword towards the bed aiming for the head of the person in it.

There was a muffled clump as the sword hit the mattress. The figure leaned towards the bed to verify the kill when it was lifted into the air from behind.

"Good for me I never sleep in a bed or with my eyes closed." Tylor whispered into the intruders ear. "Who sent you?"

There was only a muffled grunt and the body went limp.

"Damn, poison capsule. I hate ninja."

Tylor threw the body onto the bed and turned towards the door. Just as he was about to turn the knob the door was blown inward. Tylor was thrown in the back wall where he stood waiting.

The first two attackers ran in fireing their assualt rifles. Tylor dove sideways and fired two shots from his Predator dropping both men with identical head shots. Tylor rolled on his shoulder and came up in a crouch with his gun in his left hand pointing at the door.

The third attacker came through the ceiling. Tylor thrust his right arm upward and flex his muscles causeing the blade in his arm to extend. There was a clang of metal hitting metal as Tylors spur blocked the ninja's sword. Dropping on his back Tylor fired a single bullet into the mans chest.

Tylor grabbed one of the dropped assault rifles and dove through the open door. Rolling he again came up in a crouch ready to fire. Tylor was struck from behind and fell forwards. He came up to see a ninja with a sword.

"You'll pay for that. I just had my coat repaired." Tylor said.

The ninja merely laughed as a gas canister hit the Tylor in the side of the head. Tylor realed as the gas took effect and his brain began to shut down. The last image he saw was that of a ninja standing over him with his sword ready to be thrust into Tylors chest.

By Rigel (Nat) on Unrecorded Date:

Speedy needed to grab some dinner before her 6:00 ecstasy/ketamine drop-off at the Tunnel. She took the elevator down to the parking ramp and checked her car before getting in. So far Crane hadn’t been caught, though she was disappointed he couldn’t stay. Years ago he left New York scarcely more than a scrawny kid- much like herself at the time- and she was quite impressed with the transformation over the years.

She checked her gun and grabbed some extra ammo from her glove compartment before driving away. Two blocks later a black car rolled in and hovered five cars back. She drove around for a bit before conceding to the gut feeling she was being followed. Chinatown made for a good maze, so she hit the accelerator. The black car weaved out of traffic in pursuit, nearly clipping an old Chinese lady as she crossed Confucius Plaza.

“Zakennayo!!!!” She roared as her rear left tire shredded in a hale of bullets. She could barely control the car at this point and looked for a place to bail. She swerved into an alley parallel to the Manhattan Bridge and ran for the nearest marketplace. Two seconds after she dashed around the corner she heard tires screeching in the distance. Not wasting any time she sidestepped into a fish market to meld with the crowd.

Three men paced around the corner and split up, one entered the fish market and began searching. She slipped out of the freight exit and hid behind a stack of crates near a forklift to attach her silencer and double check her ammo supply. Chatham Square was two blocks away, if she could reach it she’d be able to lose her pursuers in the rush hour mob. As she looked up one of the men had entered the loading dock and looked curiously at the stack of crates. She fired three shots into his chest before she realizing he was armored and adjusted her aim to his right eye. Before he could raise his gun he was dead. Speedy slipped out into the back alley and ran into a stealthier adversary who took cover before she could fix aim; this one had the frame of a woman ducking behind a steel dumpster. The glint of a metal gun in her right hand caught her attention. Speedy took a running leap up, grabbing onto a fire escape with one hand and fired with the other as she swung forward over the dumpster. By the time she landed the woman was lifeless. As she took her first step away the searing pain of armor piercing ammo stabbed through the back of her right shoulder.

Judging on the angle of the pain that coursed through her body, the third man was on the roof of the building behind her. She ducked around the side of the building only to find a second car with four more yaks twenty feet and closing. She gritted her teeth and aimed her gun with her left hand. She managed to take out the driver and dove to the left as the car swerved into a parked truck full of frozen fish, sending ice and silvery mackerel cascading onto the street. The impact was noisy and guaranteed to attract attention. She hobbled towards the remains of a rusty ford pinto for some cover, noticing one of the Yakuza emerging from the crumpled car filled with crushed bodies. Despite a nasty gash on his forehead he was well enough for the chase. In combination with the sharpshooter on the roof, her future looked grim.

Speedy slid under the back of the pinto and shot at his legs, ripping his lower joints out from under him. Once he collapsed onto the ground she pumped additional bullets into unprotected areas and reloaded her predator as a red puddle spread underneath him. The shooter on the roof estimated where her body would be under the car and riddled it with holes, hitting her three times. Luckily the car had softened the momentum of the armor piercing bullets to the point where her kevlar lined coat served its purpose- give or take a few cuts and bruises. She had to move before he reloaded or she’d be no better off than the perforated vehicle above her. She gathered her strength and fled into a neighboring building, the sniper’s aim just a few inches behind her ankles as she ran. She could hear him curse as his bullets missed and bit cement. Once she was in the building she sprinted up the stairs doing the best to ignore the painful wound in her shoulder. Hopefully she could take him down before he called for backup.

The sniper cursed as he leaped over to the next roof anticipating Speedy’s next move. He positioned himself behind a vent tower and aimed for the roof access door waiting for her to emerge. “Tama, send backup.” He whispered over the radio. A subtle rustling sound behind him caught notice, and he turned around in time to see the barrel of a silencer deliver a round of bullets to his head. When he fell without the beauty of a complete skull, Speedy breathed a sigh of relief and slid down the fire escape she’d accessed on the fifth floor.

**

Tate wrestled the slug out of Speedy’s gold-skinned shoulder and began cleaning the wound to make Maddie’s job easier. “Nasty one. You should be more careful.” Maddie nodded in agreement and placed her outstretched hand over the wound. The numerous fetishes dangling from her arm swayed wildly with each pothole the wagon encountered.

When Tate dropped her off the anesthetic was beginning to wear thin. She put on an extra patch to ward off the throbbing pain in her shoulder. Maddie was something of a novice, but the wound was sealed, just not quite to the standard she would have preferred.

Someone must have spotted her with Crane at Takashimaya or the airport parking ramp, there was no other explanation for all the attention. She entered her Chelsea safehouse with full caution. The place was empty to her liking, so she changed out of her blood-soaked clothes and jumped into the shower.

She wrapped herself in her bathrobe and hoped Trevor wouldn’t be to pissed that he’d be a little short on recreational drugs at the Tunnel tonight. No matter, customers were easy to find. She didn’t dare go outside after what’d just happened, not for anyone. Speedy went to bed once she realized just how tired she was.

By Vengence is Mine (Knight_hawk) on Unrecorded Date:

Tylor awoke slowly his eyes refusing to open. He could here nothing around him. When his eyes did finally open he saw that he was in a small white room with no windows and apparently no door.

Tylor tried to move his head to see his situation but found that his head was tied to the wall behind him. He felt his arms were tied outward from his body and his legs were spread out. His right arm was also encased in a metal shell so as to prevent his spur from being used.

Tylor sighed and and tried to remember the final images he had seen when he was attacked. He remembered the ninja standing over him, but there was somthing wrong with that for some reason. Tylor breated in slowly and tried an memory enhanceing technique he was taught in the orient. The image of the ninja began to waver and he saw someone he had hoped he had killed long ago. The sword was really a cyber spur and the man was Tylor's twin brother.

By Margravine (Ranger) on Unrecorded Date:

Lily Bao, wearing black satin jeans and a leather tee shirt, sat on a bench not too far from the permanent Chinese chess tables in Hing Hay Park, waiting. She watched three pairs of old men battling each other across the chess table while she also kept an eye out for Dallas Whitecrow.

The late afternoon weather was actually pleasant for a change, the sun even occasionally peeped coyly out from its shroud of smog and cloud, and locals were taking advantage of it and the park was bustling. Couples strolled, wage slaves having a late lunch al fresco on the benches, kids goofed off. She watched four or five boys racing each other on scooter boards, dodging around pedestrians, pigeons, and stray animals. One boy took a commanding lead, until he wiped out not far from her bench. The others shouted derisively as they whizzed by. The fallen boy lay still for a minute then hopped up and trotted over to her bench and dropped in to the seat.

She turned a cold eye on him and he smiled at her. She did a double take and suppressed a smile, "Nice camouflage Mr. Whitecrow, I never would have know you."

Dallas bent over his board and began to fidget with it as if adjusting it, "That's the idea Ms. Bao."

"And I thought I looked young."

"Yeah, well, it's only when I can use it to my advantage. What have you got for us?"

She placed two thumb sized boxes on the bench which Dallas promptly covered with a bandana, "These are call boxes. If either you or Mr. Dawson need emergency aid, push the button. We will have a team with you within five minutes anywhere in the city."

Dallas scooped up the bandana along with the call boxes and stuffed them in his pocket, "Anything else?"

She looked amused, "You are an intriguing individual."

He grinned but did not face her, "So I've been told. Does that mean if I ask, you'll have dinner with me?"

"Are you sure that would be safe?"

He shot her a look, "If we go out, I'm pretty sure your people will have a team on me, probably one on you and maybe one in the restaurant."

The amused look deepened, "True. Where would we go?"

"Well, we could both put on our youngest clothes and go to the Teeny Boppers Pizza Palace with all the other kiddies."

"Ah, no."

"How about one of the restaurants your uncle owns?"

She smiled and inclined her head, "Very well, The Eight Immortals on King Street. At Eight? "

Dallas considered, "See you at eight, then," he said hopping up. He threw the board down and jumped on, off roading it until he got back on the path. He did not look back.

By Vengence is Mine (Knight_hawk) on Unrecorded Date:

A small panel door opened in the wall Tylor was faceing. A small man walked in and placed a table in front of Tylor. He then exited the room and came back in with a chair. Next he brought in what could only be a tray covered with a sheet.

"So I'm to have a guest is that it?"

The man never even paused in his work, as soon as he was finished the man exited the room and the door closed behind him.

An hour later the door once again opened and two figures walked into the room. Tylor watched as the smaller of the two men sat down at the table. The other man stood at the wall arms crossed.

"So are you the ones I've been waiting for?"

"For one in your position I don't think levety is appropriate." With that he snapped his fingers and a spot light came on in Tylors face. "Ah, so I forgot, your eyes are equipped for glare. HMPH" He snapped his fingers again and the light was turned off. "So Mr. Reynolds I am going to ask you a few questions and you will answer them. If I don't like the answer I get or if you lie I will have my large friend here administer...an incentive to tell the truth. Lets avoid such unpleasentness and you tell me the truth shall we?"

"Ask me questions all you like but if your 'friend' comes near me I'll rip his heart out and feed it to you raw."

"Really Mr. Reynolds, surely you don't think that a man in your position can make such threats and act on them do you? Now who are you working for?"

"Eat Drek."

The large man moved forward at a nod from the small man and slammed his fist into Tylors stomach.

"OOOF, sorry gonna have to do better than that."

"Ah, dermal plateing thats new to our records. Please I don't want to let this get any worse. Who do you work for?"

"If I answer I'll only wisper it in you ear."

"Why Mr. reynolds, so you can take a bite out of my ear?" Asked the small man

"The thought had crossed my mind." Tylor said smileing.

The man nodded and the shadow acted this time grabbing Tylors croch.

"Hey next time your gonna have to ask me to marry me before you grab me there." The man growled and moved around to face Tylor squeezing harder. "Thanks for the target." Tylor said as he focused all of his power into his neck muscles. The straps holding his head back broke and Tylor buried his forehead in the bridge of the mans nose.

Screaming the man stumbled backward holding his shattered nose.

"Bet that hurt." Tylor said.

Four ninja came in through the door and began to attempt to secure Tylors head again. No one naticed one of the ninjas loosening Tylors bound left arm. Not enough to set him free now but enough to allow him to break free later.

Once Tylors head was once again secured the ninja took up positions around the room watching for the small man.

"Such displays are not in your best intrests Mr. Reynolds, and they will not be tolerated." The small man drew the cloth off of the tray and revealed many sharp objects. "Now I'll have to resort to doing this the hard way, although I do prefer it. Now, WHO DO YOU WORK FOR?"

"I don't know who. I get my messages from a 'Johnson'."

"And he would be?"

"Oh come on. You know 'Johnsons' never give out their real names." Tylor said.

"Fine what is your mission? Why are you following Mr. Dawson?"

"I liked his coat I wanted to ask him where I could get one just like it." Tylor responded.

The small man brandished a scalple. "You may have dermal plateing but that dosn't cover you whole body." The small man brought the knife toward Tylors left handand cut the flesh between his fingers.

"Why are you following Mr. Dawson?"

Tylor just looked forward and said nothing. The man then cut the flesh between Tylors thumb and fore finger.

"Why not try that on my right hand?" Tylor said between his gritted teeth.

"Why are you following Mr. Dawson?"

"I was told to protect him."

"From what?"

"From scum like you drek face. By the way, my left hand is free." The small man looked at Tylor quizicly just as Tylor broke his left hand free and slammed it into the mans skull. The side of the mans head caved in as the Titanium in Tylors bones collided with the normal bones of the man.

Three of the ninjas leapt forward drawing there swords. The third drew Tylors Predator and fired killing the other ninja. The ninja then walked toward Tylor and cut him free.

"Who the hell are you?" Tylor asked as the ninja unlocked the case around Tylors right arm. "Someone who loves me?"

The ninja pulled the mask from its face and looked at Tylor. There in front of him stood the most beautiful woman Tylor had ever seen. She looked up at him, "Keep it up and I might just tie you back up there. My name is Mieko Ishidora. I work for the same people you do. They set me up in this group so as to keep tabs on them. Guess that's over." She handed over Tylors gun and turned towards the door.

"Not really." Tylor released his spur and stabbed Mieko in the back. "Forgive me" Tylor said in Japanese as he walked out the door.

By Rigel (Nat) on Unrecorded Date:

Speedy was on the run again, this time she was really in trouble. They’d captured one of her workers who gave them her Chelsea location. She managed to get out of the safehouse in one piece, but the Yaks brought plenty of backup and two helicopters. On foot she was helpless, and it wasn’t long before she was surrounded. “Whether you’d be better off dead is your decision. Drop the gun.” She didn’t have a choice and reluctantly surrendered. They put a blindfold over her eyes after shoving her into the car, not like it was necessary since she knew where most of the triads’ headquarter were.

They did usual the drug and interrogate procedure to find that she had no useful information. Fujiyama would not be pleased. “So what do we do now? Kill her?” asked one of her captors. “Perhaps, whatever pleases Mr. Fujiyama.”