A/N: And this is about the point I realized that this nice simple story wasn't going to be a nice quiet simple story. It's shadowrun... it's the Losers. As Jensen says at the end of the chapter... it got... complicated.

I hope you enjoy the results.

Standard disclaimers are still in play - if you don't know them by now: Diggle, Dark Horse, DC, WB,They own the Losers. Catalyst games (I think) Shadowrun!... I just put them together added my own twisted sense of reality and some rather unique characters.

So - Original Female Decker, Borrowed original Elf Male Decker, one rather wry Mage (Male) (original), Original Male Bear Shaman, Original Female Medic. (and a few others becuase you can't have an epic without an epic cast.


Master Sergeant Casey Kaye was not happy. Looking at the skies she realized the rain was coming and no amount of pacing or staring at the clouds would change that. She unslung her backpack and pulled out a rain poncho, carefully draping it over herself and her pack. It wasn't much, but at least they'd left her, her pack.

"Ten minutes," she muttered to herself. "Ten fragging minutes..." She paced the confines of the clearing carefully measuring out the distance the collar afforded her. At least they had thought to position the claymores where she couldn't reach them. After a few more laps of the clearing she realized that that 'kindness' had been intentional. They didn't want to risk her offing herself before they could do... whatever it was they planned on doing.

She still had a few days' emergency rations and the rain was giving her some drinking water but this was not what she'd been thinking of when she'd stepped off the skids and watched her chopper leave without her.

"Should have been ten minutes..." she repeated aloud as she remembered firing the smoke grenade and then having to wave the chopper off as gunfire erupted around her.

She'd tried laying low after that, but there was no hiding from the tracking device that had been rigged to her rifle: Sergeant Alvarez's partner's rifle to be specific. They were surprised to find her, alone and alive. When they called her Jensen, she knew something was up and she decided it was probably for the best not to contradict them. That had been three days ago.

They had marched for almost a day before they made the clearing and then her captors had carefully explained to her that if she wanted to live, all she had to do was stay in the clearing. Cut the tether, and the collar would end her life just as easily as a cranium bomb.

They promised someone would come to pick her up. Two days ago she was afraid of what that meant, and what would happen when they found out their prisoner was not a decker but a medic. Now, she was beginning not to care.

She had tried transmitting over the comm frequencies but the collar had delivered a powerful warning shock that left her gasping for breath each time she tried.

Staked out like some sacrificial lamb, she had little choice but to wait.

"What have you got on Master Sergeant Kaye?" Clay asked looking at Pooch. With Jensen out of the game, the information oriented tasks fell to the team's rigger.

Pooch shook his head. Some groups within the armed forces had their 'head cases' handle both decking and rigging. In most cases this cut down on their effectiveness, but there were some who saw them as two sides of the same coin.

Jensen once said that rigging was, for lack of a better term, decking hardware instead of software. Pooch on the other hand had always said that decking was like rigging in a fun house of someone else's design.

Fortunately, for this mission he didn't need to coax information out of the matrix- he just had to access the service files in question.

"Flight medic for the past seven years, combat medic for the preceding five... Looks like jumping ship to save lives is par for the course with the Master Sergeant: Humanitarian Service, Meritorious Service, Purple Heart... was both honored and reprimanded for ignoring a direct order to evacuate in order to stay with three injured soldiers until they were stabilized enough for transport... "

Clay smiled. "In other words... she's Loser material."

"Well, except for the conscientious objector designation..."

"Really?"

Roque laughed. "A woman who probably won't shoot you, or try and blow you up. There's hope for you yet..."

Clay gave Roque a mock sour look then turned back to Pooch. "Any enhancements?"

Pooch scanned the file. "Standard military grade comm unit. Chip and data jack... Left eye is cybered - designed for medical... thermal register... low light... "

Pooch landed the rotorcraft as close to the LZ as he dared. It was just on the edge of enemy territory and with the number of times it had changed hands- it was just safer to have their escape vehicle near enough to control, but far enough away to keep it safe.

As he finished setting up the controls for a quick remote retrieval, Clay and Roque scanned the area for signs of the enemy.

Once the vehicle was secure the trio headed for the landing zone. After three days they weren't all that hopeful for finding a trail, but they had to start somewhere and this was her last known location.

Three hours later, after trekking through the underbrush and backtracking once to avoid a patrol, they reached the original LZ.

Roque knelt down touching the ground and looked around.

"You can see where the prop-wash beat the grass down," Pooch stated.

Roque paused, closing his eyes. "There have been two groups through here," he said indicating the different directions of travel. "One group of five headed east, the other... looks like ten, maybe twelve headed south deeper into enemy territory."

Clay looked at the paths indicated then sighed. "South."

"South? Any particular reason?"

"If she headed East, any one of seven troops would have seen her. If she was on her own- she'd have reported in by now... no... They took her South."

"Next question... Why?"

Clay smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Why don't we find her and ask?"

Pooch was beginning to think they'd chosen the wrong path when Roque held his fist at chin height, signaling a halt. He stared into the bushes for a moment, tilting his head. When he smiled, his teammates knew he'd found something.

After a few minutes he walked over to the underbrush and picked up a purple nitrile glove with a stick. He looked at Clay questioningly.

"Could be anyone's," Clay commented playing Devil's Advocate.

"Small," Roque stated as he studied it. "Unused... single..."

"You think someone left it?"

Roque shrugged. "It could be cast off... but..." He paused and searched the area for a few minutes, finding a pair of bandage scissors about twenty feet further down the trail. He gave the other a raised eyebrow and continued his search.

Another twenty to thirty feet further he stopped and picked up the head of a stethoscope.

Clay nodded. "So.. she's either leaving a trail for us..."

"Or someone's leaving one for her... leading us into who knows what," Roque finished. "I really don't like this."

"Noted," Clay said looking around. "It's going to be dark soon. Why don't we find a place to make camp, then maybe you do some 'scouting'?"

"Oh, 'scouting'," Roque answered. "As opposed to ... Scouting?" he asked nodding towards Pooch.

"I'd rather you two work in shifts. We're down two men and I'd rather not take chances. Well... any more chances than we are being out here in the first place.

It took them another four hours to find a protected camp sight. Roque led the way, his fur helping him blend into the shadows. When they finally settled in Clay gave a nod. "I'll stand guard - you two take turns... watch over each other... there's no telling what might be out there."

Night number three, and Casey was beginning to wonder if they were ever coming back. The local wildlife were becoming accustomed to her presence, and becoming bolder. She knew it was only a matter of time before they ventured closer- before she'd have to worry about them wondering if she tasted good or not.

She pulled out her pen light and checked the charge. It wasn't designed for constant use, but at least it gave her some light. She lamented the loss of her multi-too. Lt, along with her Swiss Army Knife, her survival knife, her scalpels and pretty much everything she could possibly use as a weapon, had been taken from her. They left her the majority of her medical supplies including a survival blanket but they had left very little else.

The only weapons she had were her brains and a small Scottish Knife her parents had given her when she'd left for basic. They had missed the sgian dubh, mostly because it was so small and she'd been loath to take it out on the off chance someone was watching.

The multi-too was one thing, the sgian dubh was personal.

She stood and moved closer to the center of the clearing, following the tether line back to the transmitter that doubled as a stake in the ground: her anchor.

She felt her way along the transmitter until she reached the reel that let her move around the without getting tangled up. She reached up to investigate only to feel another warning shock, which took her to her knees.

This was getting really old.

She glowered at the unit knowing she'd have to work something out and soon.

Jensen woke surprised to find himself in a hospital bed. It took him a few moments to re-orient himself and then everything came back to him in a rush. He sat up, knowing he hadn't just woken up, that something was wrong.

He froze. Cougar lay in the bed next to him, in the throes of a nightmare, only it wasn't the usual one... no this was...

'Shit!' He subvocalized without thinking. "Carlos?"

He pushed himself up, fighting the sensation of vertigo as he tried to stand and wake Cougar up. When he fell, he didn't even feel his head hit the edge of his bed.

As he settled in, Roque felt the ley lines around them. This place was so full of power he knew he would have more than enough energy to do what he needed to do. He also knew that it meant he would have to watch for awakened beings attracted by the power.

The better the watering hole: the better the prey to be found. He wasn't entirely surprised when he found they'd been following a ley line all day. It explained the almost heady feeling he was getting.

When Pooch returned from setting the perimeter remotes he closed his eyes.

"You warding before you begin," Pooch asked.

Roque gave him a slight glare, knowing full well Pooch knew what he was up to. In answer Pooch gave a subtle look towards Clay. No matter how many times they'd worked together, Clay always managed to forget about magical wards. He couldn't see them, didn't understand them... therefore he tended to forget about them.

"Clay, I'll be heading out shortly," Roque said. "Don't break the wards..."

Clay rolled his eyes. "That was once... a very long time ago..." he objected.

Roque smiled and began working on the wards.

Casey allowed herself a half an hour to recover after she'd felt good enough to stand. The first thing she had to do was eliminate the shock collar. Bandages were out- while they'd cushion they wouldn't insulate her from the shocks, and once she'd sweated into them the saltwater would just conduct the current.

She smiled as she pulled out a glove. She wasn't sure if Nitrile was conductive or not, but her money was on insulating. She carefully threaded one of them underneath the collar and began wrapping it around.

It was slow going, and every time she jostled the tether or moved the collar too much it delivered another shock. By the time she'd almost completed the task of wrapping the collar she was on her knees.

The only question was... if she finished wrapping the collar... would it protect her, or seal her fate?

The first thing Jensen was aware of was the fact that he was floating. He looked around almost flailing until he felt the hand on his shoulder and realized he was being levitated back into his bed.

He looked around, recognizing Pendergast, the mage from the chopper. He was about to comment when he heard a familiar voice over his comm line.

'What.. you didn't think you were injured enough?'

He smiled and turned towards the slight form of the Special Forces decker, well... slight in comparison to her colleagues: Duck.

'Yeah well,' he said rubbing his head. 'I learned from the best.'

She gave him a wry smile before turning towards the Pueblo Forces Shaman, who was sitting in a wheel chair next to Cougar.

"Wanna tell us what your charts won't?"

Jake shrugged. "Orders were issued to report to the shop for enhancements... we did what we had to to get the job done. There were complications."

The woman nodded. "And the complications were..."

Jake looked at them and then looked at Cougar. It wasn't really his to tell. "Complicated...?"