It was well after seven before I pulled up again out the front of Aisha's. I glanced around to check the street was clear (old habit) before stepping out of the car. the air was clear and still; I'd never really expected Aisha to be the suburban type, but considering she was on the DL it made more sense than her living in a highrise.

Johnny greeted me at the door with a handshake that pulled into a hug. "Come on in," he offered, mimicking my habit by checking outside before shutting the door.

"You want a beer?" he asked with a smile. I smiled and nodded, feeling my brow crease as I saw him leave the room. He was dressing better, an observation that made me feel like an immature teenager by comparison. "Hungry?" he called out from the kitchen.

"Nah, I grabbed some Freckle Bitches on the way over." I said, waving a hand, even though he couldn't see me. I glanced around; Aisha's place was nice. Polished, modern, but not over done. The walls were scattered with her posters and golden and platinum records. Gat strolled back in, tossing me the drink and setting himself down comfortably on one of the sofas. I twisted the cap off my beer and took a grateful swig. Gat nodded to a couch.

"You can put your feet up," he said. I raised an eyebrow and gave him a wry smile.

"Gat, I've had my feet up for three years."

He chuckled and nodded sagely. "You get much done?" he asked.

I nodded. "Got in touch with some of the old runners. I can pull a few jobs; cash flow won't be too much of a problem... when did Saints and Sinners close? I've been trying to get into contact with Rosa." Saints and Sinners had been one of my largest and most lucrative brothels, partly owing it's success to the fact that there was just about nothing a ho wouldn't do to get a job there; it was safe, comfortable, and you worked with Rosa. And if there was one woman in the city who could run whores better than I did it was Madam Rosa.

"From what I heard, the Brotherhood ran them out. They ain't really into whore runnin', but when the pimps started showin up again the Brotherhood were all to fuckin happy to help'em out for a small cut." Johnny said apologetically.

I felt myself glower. "Who are these Brotherhood fucks anyway? And the... Ronin? and the Sam... sammy...'

"Samedi?"

"Yeah, those guys."

Gat took another long pull from his beer and frowned, "Sorry there boss," he said, "I been cooped up nearly as long as you been in that coma, don't got much on them. All I can gather is that the Brotherhood are a bunch of thugs, you know, knockin over convenience stores n'shit, low level game. The Sons'a Samedi got the drug market cornered, and the Ronin..." he paused to take another swig of his beer (and, I thought, for dramatic emphasis), "They're pretty much the VK with swords, riding around on cheap bikes."

I raised an eyebrow. "Swords?"

Johnny gave a mocking smile, "Oh yeah. Really takin the whole Yakuza thing to heart."

I gave a small chuckle and shook my head, glancing up when afamiliar voice sounded from upstairs that caused me to smile.

"Johnny, who's that?"

Gat hollered back up the stairs to her, unable to hide the affectionate smile, "Yo come to the living room and find out!"

I glanced over my shoulder as I heard her heels echoing over the wooden stairs, "Johnny, I don't care if you just broke out of prison, get your feet off the coffee ta-"

She froze when she saw me. I smiled at her – she looked different. Well, everyone did, but she seemed to have matured a lot; her hair was cut back into a pixie crop, and she wore an expensive looking pantsuit that was too nice to be wearing around the house.

"Oh my God. It's you," she said, jaw dropped.

My smile widened to a grin. "Surprised Aisha?" I asked, strolling over to greet her properly.

She raised an eyebrow at me, smiling broadly as we walked up to hug. Her embrace was tight, then she pulled back, hands still on my shoulders and looked me up and down. "What, that you're here, or that you're talking?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Pick one."

She sighed, shaking her head. "We all thought you were dead,"

"I almost was," I shrugged.

"Well, for someone that was blown to hell, you look great," she continued, "Did you do something with your hair?"

I gave a small laugh and ran a hand through my locks again, "Yeah, I've been getting that a lot-"

"Tear-jerkin as this reunion is," Gat interrupted, causing us to simultaneously snap a look at him, "Could we get down to business?"

I took a swig of my beer, moving forward to lean on the back of the couch.

"What's the rush?" Aisha said quickly.

Gat had clearly had his fill of girl-talk for now. "I been cooped up on death row and that bitch has been laid out in a coma."

I nodded – there was too much to do and I didn't feel like there was much time for relaxing.

"We definitely need to remind those muthafuckers who we are," I said darkly.

"And this can't wait till after dinner?" Aisha stressed one last time.

"No." we replied in unison, throwing her a quick look. A laughing smile replaced her frown.

"You two haven't changed at all," she said affectionately, her smile much more directed at Johnny than me.

"Well you know there's a sayin' about dogs and blowin' shit up," he replied with a dark chuckle. He looked back to me, expression serious. "So what's the plan?"

I looked down at my beer, taking another swig and considering my options. Start with the obvious first.

"We get our crew together," I said, trying to make it sound simple so I would believe it was, "Once we got that, we can work on taking our city back."

"And where were you planning on having this little meeting?" Aisha piped up. Damn, hadn't thought of that. I glanced to Gat, who was looking at me with the same expression, and as if by telepathy, the same idea crossed our minds. We turned to observe the living room.

"Well this place is pretty spacious," Johnny suggested. I glanced back at Aisha to check her reaction. Yeah, not gonna happen.

"No." she said flatly, confirming what I thought. I grinned slyly.

"The colours are very soothing," I complimented lightly.

"No." she reiterated. I repressed a chuckle.

"C'mon Eesh," Johnny tried, for all the world sounding like a petulant child.

"This ain't no fucking gang clubhouse!" she snapped back. Discussion over.

Gat glanced an apology at me but my mouth was still curled into a dry smile.

"No problem." I said, taking another swig of my drink, "Real estate is the smaller of the issues at the moment. You know any other places? We need something that's not in the open,"

Johnny drummed his fingers against his the bottle, then nodded sharply.

"Yeah. You up for a drive?"

"Sure."

Gat pulled up outside the old mission – the entrance was in a parking lot, tucked away in the red light district.

"So this is it, huh?" I said, raising a sceptical eyebrow at the broken sign, encouraging people to 'NJOY O R M RNING ERVIC'. I sighed, "Gotta say Gat, religious houses are kinda been there, done that," I said coolly. He just gave me a knowing smile.

"We ain't stayin in the mission house," he said, pushing the drivers' door open and stepping out. I blinked, intrigued, and followed suit.

"Get this, a couple 'a years ago an earthquake dropped half the city below sea level. Now most of the city was rebuilt properly, but in this district, they just went and built over the top of it rather than clearing everything out and trying to level the ground. Cheaper."

"Allright," I said, watching him go to the trunk of the car pulling out two SMGs and tossing them to me, taking a shotgun for himself. 'Ok, so this would be interesting,'

"Under the mission house is an old hotel. Plenty of room, and out of sight." He said. I followed his lead to the double doors of the mission and we pushed them open – the lock had been busted long ago. I glanced at the Blossum and TK I was carrying.

"So what's the catch?" I said with a smile. He threw a look at me, a dark grin curling up half his mouth.

"We gotta evict the current tenants."

I raised my eyebrows. I hadn't had a good fight in a while.

"Sounds like fun."

We walked down to the lower level of the mission, having to thread through at least three sub basements before spotting a rather large hole in the wall, clearly where the current residents had broken through to the building beneath. We stepped into what might looked like a very old storage cupboard, then out of that into a hall framed with wood panelling and peeling wallpaper. We followed it down, keeping an eye out for any sign of life, till we found ourselves at the top of a grand staircase that swept down to meet its twin on the other side, then they both poured into a huge reception area.

"You weren't kidding about space," I said admirably. In the foyer two ratty old couches sat by a fire contained in an old bin. A few homeless people were wandering around.

Gat cocked the shotgun and fired over the staircase, a few of the people giving startled shrieks and scuttling away. We exchanged a glance, and started down the stairs.

"It's not gonna be that easy, is it?" I asked sceptically. There were manic shouts from the doors, and dozens of crazed homeless came charging at us.

"Nope." Gat replied with a grin, and we opened fire on them.

Some of the people were smart enough to keep running and escaped up the stairs. We moved through the maze of rooms outside the foyer, spotting shanties which Johnny got to destroying, and I was shooting anyone who came running at us.

There were more of them squatting down there than I thought – they wielded knives and baseball bats, charging at us fearlessly, even when their shanties were taken apart.

I fired and reloaded again and again till finally I ran out of ammo, Gat swore when he found himself in the same situation. The last of the homeless began circling us, crazed grins across their filthy faces. I reached down and picked up a butterfly knife from one of the dead, moving so Johnny and I were back to back. Ordinarily I would have preferred something blunt, but I was becoming familiar with the liimitations of my strength; blades were a better option for me at the moment.

"More than I expected," I threw over my shoulder. Gat cracked his neck.

"Doin this the old fashioned way then," he said.

The bums charged, and for a moment I thought they might overrun us. I flicked the knife and moved easily into fighting again, striking out at each one that attempted to grab at me. Gat was having no trouble – he'd always been a good fighter but he'd gotten a lot bigger and stronger in the past three years.

Soon the last of the homeless lay at our feet. I glanced over my shoulder at Johnny with a satisfied smile.

"Killin just ain't been the same without you," he said.

I kicked some debris along the cracked marble floor, picking up a piece of cardboard and tossing it into the bin-fire the newly deceased homeless guys had built.

"So whaddya think?" I heard Johnny ask. I gazed in and drank in the surroundings. It was big, sure, with plenty or rooms tucked away and had probably been a very grand hotel once. But now, with the broken statues, cracked floors, rubbish everywhere, the occasional dead body and pool of blood…

"It's kind of a shithole," I said dryly. Even if we cleaned it up we'd need to get a generator in here, and plumbing would be an absolute bitch.

"True," Johnny agreed, sprawling himself on a rotting old sofa the bums had dragged in, "But it's a shithole with potential."

I frowned, a hand on my hip, "I dunno man," I said, flopping down on the couch next to him.

"Ah, c'mon, some paint, a couple 'a flat screens and a stripper pole, this place'd be aiight." He said, setting his feet up on a crate. I nodded, feeling myself a little more at ease, gazing around the hall. In its day it would have been amazing… with some work it could get there again. I looked over to him, raising an eyebrow.

"Stripper pole?" I asked dryly.

Gat blinked at me. "Yeah. Thought you'd be into that."

I felt my brow crease a little in confusion. "…What?"

"Yeah, havin some girls in here, doin dances, doin favours,"

My jaw dropped a little, "I wouldn't be talking like that in front of Aisha if I were you."

"Not for me," he shot back, clearly insulted. Johnny wasn't that sort of guy, I knew that, "But still, you're a dyke, you ge-"

"WHAT?"

He blinked at my outburst, "Sorry Boss, didn't think you'd have issue with that word,"

"The word?" I said, astounded, "Johnny I'm not – why did you think I was-"

"Wait, wait - you' not a lesbian?" he said loudly, looking at me like I'd just ripped my face off in front of him. My jaw dropped.

"No." I stressed, absolutely stunned. "Why would you think I was gay?"

"Well you had that short hair and I never saw you with a guy, I just thought-"

He stopped and narrowed his eyes at me; I had started laughing.

"Seriously Gat?" I choked out through peals of laughter, "Oh my god... you've known me for what, four years now? And that whole time…"

He was running a hand through his hair, "I can't believe you're straight," he said. From the look on his face he was trying to analyse several memories at once. I reached out and slapped a hand on his shoulder, trying desperately to pull a serious face.

"Johnny," I said, gravely as I could, "I'm sorry, but I was born this way," I said using every ounce of my self control not to laugh again. He shook his head, a laughing smile finally over his face.

"You're an asshole," he said, leaning back onto the couch. A small silence fell and I glanced around the place.

"So we got the hideout," I said, "… All we need now is the gang."

Gat sat up, pulling out his phone, apparently grateful to be back to business.

"Lieutenants?"

"Yeah. I know one guy, Carlos. He helped me bust outta jail, seems resourceful. But we'll need more." I said. Gat was running through his call list.

"I know some people from jail, no alliances to the new gangs. Could set up a meet'n'greet for you-"

"And you go street side to recruit?" I finished. He nodded.

"Who are they?" I asked.

"Got two in mind, they should be out by now. A guy called Peirce, I seen him fight, he seemed pretty tough and he knows his tactics." He paused and scrolled a little further through his phone, "The other is this hippy chick Shaundi,"

I opened my mouth to retort but he anticipated it and spoke right over the top of me. "Trust me, she's smarter than she looks, she knows a lotta people and is all over the drug scene. Easy money."

I relaxed back onto the sofa. I knew I could trust his judgement.

"Alright." I said, "Make the call."