I stretched to undo a kink in my neck after hours of staring at that screen with that chair glued to my ass. I rubbed my eyes tiredly and stifled a yawn, there was nothing more tedious than looking for industrial intelligence in the Czech governmental databases, but it was the CNI's last assignment, and I knew better than trying to shrug it off. I let out a measured breath, thinking how much time that stupid task was robbing me of other more pressing matters, like trying to find the assholes who had taken Markus away and were most probably after me…I struggled to suppress a shiver, making an effort not to imagine whatever they could be doing to him at that very moment. Would they already know I was in the know? Was someone out there hunting me down? I was safe for the time being, hidden away in Adam's apartment, but God knew for how long…I pushed a few strands of hair out of my face violently, my augmented fingers hurting my scalp, careless as I was.

There was nothing to be done for him then, just looking in that clunky police database. We had started trying to find some clue the day before, with the ex-cop helping me as well as he could given how low his level of Czech was and, of course, he had been right, that database was a terrible mess. Ream after ream of data had been entered over the years and no one had bothered themselves with trying to look for some logical means of classification, so we were basically trying to find a needle in a humongous pile of hay. I looked at the time in my computer. It was four o'clock, I had just finished that godforsaken report on chemical production and immediately delivered it through our safe channels. Now I only had to go meet with Gómez and I would be free to spend the rest of the day doing something more useful. God, it had taken me so long to get rid of that damned report…Gómez would be seething with rage and would probably bitch and moan about me making him wait for so long, but he could complain all he wanted, my superior had told me to prioritise this job, so there was nothing he could do about it.

I sent a quick email to that asshole to tell him that I was free and that I would be at the agreed spot at 5:00 approximately, then started getting dressed, hoping I would manage to be back before the ex-cop came back home. I had decided not to tell him anything about me going out to meet my colleague, he would have probably disagreed about me leaving the apartment, and I also did not want to reveal the real reason why I was in Prague, at least not for the time being. It wasn't that I didn't trust him, but experience told me that it paid well to be careful, especially in the times we lived. Even though Alex swore by him and that not having finished in one of the TF's cells for questioning were rather positive clues about where his loyalties lay, I'd rather wait a bit more and get to know him better before revealing more details regarding my own mission.

While I donned on my coat, I frowned, trying to roughly estimate how long it would take me to go and get back, also taking into account that I would have to drop by Samizdat's headquarters so I could give K the feature I had written. I had persuaded him to send me the directions to the headquarters, which were located in an ancient and unused storm deposit. Of course, I would be taking my gun, just in case. Nowadays the sewers were the hideout for many Augs, most of them harmless people, but you could never know. I would have to hurry up if I wanted to be back before Jensen came home, and for what I had seen, he didn't have a fixed schedule, although he wouldn't probably be back before six or so.

I checked I had everything and left the apartment, knowing that the door would lock itself behind me. Next, I activated my cloaking system and descended the stairs, trying to walk as noiselessly as possible whenever I crossed some of the neighbours. Ignoring the Machine God freaks, I crossed the small yard until I reached one of the entrances, which led to the back of the alley with the manhole we had used the day Adam had brought me there. Making sure no one was nearby, I lifted the lid with some effort and then descended into that darkness, feeling my way down carefully, as it would be quite a fall.

"It stinks worse than the other day," I thought while I switched on my phone's torch. Taking my gun out as well, but keeping it aimed at the ground, and trying to conceal it as much as possible in order not to alarm anyone who might just be innocently going around their business, I started advancing, having made a point of memorising the way as much as possible through the map and the indications provided by K. After a while, I had only crossed two women hurriedly whispering in a corner, both of them visibly augmented and showing signs of having been sleeping in the rough for a while. We simply stared warily at each other for a few seconds and that was it, and then I left through another corridor, though trying to sharpen my ears as much as possible in order to make sure they were not following me, trying to catch me off-guard. After a couple of similar chance encounters, I allowed myself to relax ever so slightly, but I still paid careful attention to my surroundings. God, if my parents knew I was down there…and my sister surely had an idea about the kinds of things I had to do for the Collective, but I also tried not to give anything away, lest she worried.

Finally, after an eternity of tunnels, rats scuttling about, that maddening sound of drip dripping, the tiresome echo of my footsteps and that overpowering stench ever present inside my nostrils. I arrived at what I believed to be the manhole that was nearest to the meeting point with my colleague from the CNI. I checked the location on the phone and, nodding to myself, started climbing the iron ladder. Pushing the lid aside with a grunt, I emerged onto a deserted street, and looked around to make sure I was alone, feeling rather cartoonish after coming out of a manhole, like something you would see on the Pink Panther. It was still early, and my final destination was only a few meters away, so there was no reason to hurry. For good measure, I cloaked myself again, the journey through the dark had allowed me to rest from using it to leave Adam's apartment.

When I arrived, I leaned against the wall, my gun hidden behind my back but ready to be taken out at any second. Luckily, the surrounding area was empty, and I couldn't detect anyone, which would be perfect for my little cloak-and-dagger meeting with that asshole. At last, I heard footsteps echoing down the alley and a familiar figure appeared. Gómez was a tall man, a few years older than me, with a buzzcut that made him look almost hairless due to his natural blond hair, a long nose and pale greyish-blue eyes. The martial airs with which he walked and the mean expression in his mouth made him look a bit like an agent of the USSR's NKVD, or at least that's how I imagined them. As always, he was impeccably dressed in a fine suit, now covered by an expensive black coat. He was the son of a Czech diplomat and the Spanish ambassador, meaning he could benefit from a double nationality that allowed him into Czech high society while arousing no suspicions if he rubbed shoulders with Spaniards. Rumour had it that, many years ago, he had decided to work for the CNI after his father, a relevant Czech politician, had provoked a terrible scandal by cheating on his wife with a famous painter, leading the young man to take revenge on his father and his beloved country by passing secrets to Spain. However, apparently, he had taken a liking to spying and being a mole and, possibly wanting to climb up the CNI's ladder, he had gone on. I could not care less about his motives, as long as he didn't get me exposed in the process as a spy if he himself was caught. I would have rather worked with almost anyone else; he was one of the most disagreeable persons I had ever met, but at least he got the work done, most of the time.

"There you are," he barked upon seeing me.

"Long time no see, Gómez," I replied nonchalantly. "Took you long enough to arrive, weren't you in such a hurry regarding that intelligence?" his lips curled into a sneer.

"Unlike you, Tuercas, I have a life out here and appearances to maintain, people would wonder if I were to suddenly to disappear," he jeered, walking up to me.

"If you say so… stop being such an arrogant jerk and save it for your cover, will you?" I deadpanned, he walked up to me and immediately wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"God, what's that smell? Don't tell me, did you move into the sewers at last? I guess they are like a palace after the shithole you must have been living in…you should be glad, at least you'll find some friends there among the vermin…birds of a feather…" I just pursed my lips, apparently, that horrid stench had stuck to me.

"I should congratulate you on your cover, Gómez, it's so good you already repeat the same shit as your friends, just like a parrot," I retorted with a fake simpering smile.

"Careful there, the boss might appreciate how you work, but I know people who could find you a new position in Golem City sucking cocks for a shot of Nupoz," he replied silkily.

"Sounds cosy. Come on, give me the fucking info already so you can go back to strutting around your friends," I shot back, my patience hanging by a very tenuous thread indeed. I did not trust myself not to punch him in the face if he kept going like that.

He took a small USB out of his pocket and slapped it into my hand, then immediately left without further ado. Internally seething with rage, I thrust the little device irately into my pocket and went back to the manhole, sniffing my coat for a second. Good Lord, I reeked of sewer, that jerk was right. Had I gone through a particularly nasty section, maybe? I would have to take a shower the moment I came back, otherwise the ex-cop would only have to take a whiff to, sharp-minded as he had shown he was, know where I had been. With any luck, I would arrive just in time to get rid of it. However, before that, I had to go to Samizdat's headquarters to see whether they had something juicy.

I sank again into the manhole; fortunately, this area, instead of being pitch black, had some dim lighting which made moving around a lot less creepy. It wouldn't take me long to reach the "office", but it would be tricky. K had even implied that Bones had put some laser tripwires that activated frigging bombs due to some story with some punks who had taken the contiguous room for themselves. "It would be fun getting blown up down here," I thought crookedly while I went on, carefully searching for those red tell-tale lines. After crawling on all fours through a rather narrow and low tunnel ("perfect, more filth on my clothes"), I appeared on another room.

Grimacing in disgust, I stood up and crossed the place, where a woman sat on a mattress, apparently checking some phials of Neuropozyne for some remaining droplets, while a man sat on a corner scratching the floor with a stone, both of them looked wasted and distraught. I ignored them when I saw that they were paying me no heed, those two looked just too weak due to withdrawal to attack anyone. I thanked fate, hazard, karma or whatever there was for allowing me to have the means to procure myself that medicine. Even though not marvellous by any means, my wages were enough to allow me to get by and save a little bit every month, even if a worryingly increasing proportion of said wages had to be spent on Neuropozyne, the only thing that would allow me to keep not only my arms, but also my hearing and synthetic liver and spleen.

I was conscious of how lucky I was, I had only had to make do without the drug in a couple of occasions and, although I had survived, I didn't wish to go through it again if it could be avoided. If you didn't take the weekly dose, the symptoms just got worse and worse, even resulting in painful seizures and, eventually, death. When I had woken up in the hospital after the car accident, I learned that my liver had already been replaced with a synthetic one that would already mean using that drug chronically, and my physicians had recommended that I also got a new spleen as well. Discarding my arms had been a much harder process, even when maimed beyond repair. However, in the end, having to take a drug for the rest of my days did not seem such a big price taking into account the pain I was going through. Before the Incident, Nupoz was easy to come by at any pharmacy or LIMB clinic; however, since that madness (my fists clenched involuntarily at some recollections), it was harder and harder to find, and prices were soaring more and more. Some augmented people less fortunate than me would kill for a shot, just to stop being riddled with pain, nausea, fever and vomits (and those were minor symptoms), and I could totally understand it. A lot of people had sold everything they had when they had lost their jobs and had ended begging in the streets just to procure themselves with it, with some of them even resorting to prostitution, working as indentured servants for others or even less tasteful jobs so they could have their dosage. Besides, I was also fortunate enough just to need one weekly dose, as I knew people who needed far more for some reason or another, which just made matters worse.

Usually, the greater the extent of augmentations, the higher and the more frequent the dosage is. How frequently did the ex-cop have it? He had said around 50% of his body was augmented, how the hell did he manage? Of course, I could guess money was not something he lacked; you only had to look around his flat. Even though located in the ghetto for Augments, the Zelen apartment building was not the worst around, not by far, and, looking at how many doors the other floors had, it seemed to be bigger than most. And then there was the place itself, with those quality hardwood floors and tasteful decoration and furniture. Hell, even the clothes he wore looked like good quality, even though they were extremely utilitarian, but that trench coat was clearly custom-made. Obviously, working for the TF as a field agent in the counter-terrorism department would mean quite a hefty premium given the extremely risky nature of his job, so he could surely afford some luxuries. "Wish my bosses were as splendid," I thought, not without bitterness. My job in the CNI was no picnic, and yet I had always had to scrimp as much as possible since I had started working for them, although I still had some savings from back when I worked for the Palisade.

At last, and, most of all, in one piece, I reached a solid garage door that led to Samizdat's headquarters, next to which stood a keypad to enter a code. I tapped it in and the door started to go up with a big racket. Not even waiting for it to be totally up, I dodged it and went inside the room.

"Who the fuck is there?" asked a male voice in Czech. "Identify yourself or I'll pop a cap into your ass!" I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"Is that the way to receive an old friend, K? I'm Casper, I told you I would be coming," I called out in the same language, suddenly dazzled by a set of spotlights at the other side of the room.

"Ah, Casper, it's only you..." answered the voice, sounding obviously relieved.

"Only me, huh? I don't know how I should take that," I called out, squinting towards the outline of the man walking towards me. Finally, I grew used to the sudden luminosity and distinguished that familiar bearded face, a nose that had been broken years ago and an old scar splitting his upper lip, an old souvenir from when he had been undergone surgery to repair his harelip. Even that old baseball cap, which he sported even while being inside, and that ever-present faded and leathery red jacket were there.

"You should have sent me a message telling me you were coming!" he complained, but I could tell he was not unhappy to see me.

"As if you would have seen it," I replied. "Anyway, I brought you your feature, as requested. I can see you've put yourselves very at ease in here," I studied the room with interest, they had set up some metal containers as if they were desks, which were littered with different documents, computers, pens and pamphlets. A generator rumbled in a corner, providing the necessary power supply to sustain all the systems. Another couple of persons had come nearer; one of them was a middle-aged woman with greyish-white hair and some peculiar glasses, wearing a long whiteish trench coat, while the other was a guy in his forties or so, his head covered in a black beanie and sporting some nasty and old-looking scars on his stubbly face.

"Not the nicest place, that's true, but at least there's no Picus or policemen up our asses the whole time…which is as well, as we are onto something BIG, this time, I can tell you," replied K, a fanatical gleam in his eyes; my ears pricked up immediately, though I couldn't help feeling a bit wary. You could expect anything from Samizdat, they could dig out the greatest stories and then come up with some unbelievable conspiracy involving little green men, although you could always count on K to keep things more or less plausible.

"Are you?" I wondered, scepticism plain in my voice, it must have been obvious, as the next thing K said was:

"Oh, come on! Give us some credit! This shit is really serious stuff, and we have solid evidence, here in Prague itself, right under our noses. The powers that be may think the common people are stupid and don't notice anything, but not everyone is as blind as them, not everyone swallows Cassan's lies with their breakfast toast. The good and the great may think they can do as they please, but they have it coming. And I tell you, this time we got them," he slammed his fist on his palm, a feverish look on his face. Anyone who might not have known him could have taken him for a maniac, but I knew him well, he wouldn't get that excited if it wasn't something that important.

"So?" I was starting to feel intrigued, but I tried not to show it overtly. As a journalist and collaborator for Samizdat, it was totally justified for my cover to feel curious about whatever they might be investigating, but a too conspicuous display of interest might arouse suspicions, especially in someone as paranoid as K. However, before he could even continue, Little K, the gray-haired woman, cut in:

"Hey, K, I'd rather not say anything until we got every fact down, you know, just in case. Not saying I don't trust you, Casper, but I really don't like airing something that is not as tied up as it should be," she said. I raised both hands to indicate that she didn't need to give me an explanation.

"Don't worry, Little K, I get it, completely, it's something I would do, and I know many a journalist who don't like sharing anything before publishing, even to close colleagues," I explained bracingly. I would have to wait a little more, it seemed.

"We'll publish it shortly. The big shots up there aren't going to like it," quipped K, rubbing his hands together, as if he relished the prospect. "You on something interesting?" he asked looking at me.

"Well, you know, after the attack at Ruzicka I have been pretty busy trying to look for information about it, not that it is easy, I expect the Czech government isn't going to be very vocal about it, not a great publicity that the country is attacked on a constant basis," I answered. I wasn't actually writing anything on that terrorist attack, at least not yet, though I guessed my bosses would order me to get some information on it, probably to see if there was anything to be gained from it or if Spain was at risk of suffering something similar.

"Of course they want to hush everything up, another bombing a few months after that police station's attack? In a train station which was always swarming with cops and had all kinds of security measures? It makes them look weak, and I don't think they want to admit ARC is that strong," pointed out Bones.

"You think it's ARC?" I wondered, cocking an eyebrow. "I don't know; I know Rucker is nothing but a politician in the end, but he seems way too committed to peace to resort that kind of thing, and this shit is only going to make things worse for us Augs…although the government will try to pin it down on them, it is the perfect excuse to get rid of them once and for all, everyone knows they have been a torn at their side ever since they appeared," I ventured.

"Maybe we could ferret around, see what we can find…" K pulled at his beard pensively. However, knowing as I knew that Jensen was on the case, it would be better if Samizdat did not get too involved in it, lest they somehow found out he was working on it and compromised his investigation or even fount out about the TF.

"Hey, I'm already looking into it for my bosses, officially, though it doesn't mean I cannot give you some privileged information, you should focus on that big thing of yours," I suggested, hoping they would agree.

"Hmmmmphhh, that's true, it would be stupid dividing our resources so much. Yeah, if you dig out something interesting, send us a word," accepted K, I nodded, sighing in relief internally.

"Good, I'll see what I find," I said vaguely, starting to leave, it was getting really late, I would have to hurry up if I didn't want my host to know what I had been up to. "I should get going, it's been nice seeing you. Oh, and, by the way, if you need help with anything, just tell me, I'll probably send you some idea for an article in a while," I added, trying to sound casual, but hoping I would find out more about that "big thing" they had found.

"Yeah, take care, if you need a word, just use our usual channels," replied K as farewell.

Thus, I finally abandoned the improvised headquarters and started to walk purposefully back home. Thankfully, the way back was easier, as now I knew the way better and was more aware of what I would find in each room, although I was still careful, in case anyone would try to ambush me in some nook. First stop would be taking a shower, of course, and I would also have to wash those clothes, as they stank as badly as me…

Breathing more easily, I climbed out of the manhole and then cloaked myself to go upstairs, moving as surreptitiously as possible. Finally, I was in front of the door and about to tap the password in, but before I went in, I decided to check there was no one around, just so they wouldn't see the door opening and closing by itself. However, when I turned, I saw a shadow looming upstairs, and then, from behind the corner appeared…none other than the ex-cop.

I swore under my breath. Yeah, he was pretty much impossible to mistake; there he was, wrapped in his trench coat, glasses activated and that imperturbable air of his, walking with long strides towards the door. What could I do know? Then it struck me; if I leaned against the balcony and let him in first, I could probably sneak behind him and just tiptoe my way to the bathroom and pretend I was showering…it was plain and utter madness, and I knew it, but it was either that or decloaking and having to tell him the whole story…

He was only a few steps away from me; I flattened myself against the stone railing, not even daring to draw a breath. He seemed not to notice my presence, just walked purposefully towards the apartment door, then stopped before it to tap the code in. Walking as noiselessly as possible, I stepped nearer and waited for him to push the handle down. He let himself in and I followed suit, though trying to keep a reasonable distance between him and me. I was inside the apartment, and now he had turned around to reach for the handle and close the door behind himself. Savouring my triumph, although I still had to reach the bathroom and pretend everything was as it should, I crept into the apartment, but I almost squeaked in fright when I heard a raspy and deep voice behind me:

"Word for the wise: next time you want to enter somewhere stealthily, don't be hasty, it will save you a lot of trouble."

I grimaced, as if in pain. Perfect, now I was done for, how the hell had he known I was there? Still, I didn't decloak immediately.

"Come on, Aurora, are you forgetting my vision is augmented? And I've heard one of the footboards creak," he asked. I exhaled, this time loudly, and then deactivated my cloaking system, then turned around to face him, how could I have been so stupid as to forget that his hearing and sight were augmented as well?

He had retracted his glasses, allowing me to see how he fixed me with that keen gaze, arms crossed before his chest. I kind of felt like when I was a teenager and got caught by my mother or my father coming back home later than they had told me.

"Well…it's obvious I need some stealth masterclasses, I suppose," I said lamely, trying to sound offhand; the only change in his demeanour was a cocked eyebrow.

"Quite clearly…but stealth skills aside, I was mostly wondering about the reason behind such a behaviour…and I guess it's not about dropping a moment by the store to buy something or anything like that, as I can't see any bags or anything," he pointed out, his tone rather terse. Suddenly, and for some reason, I felt slightly nettled. Yes, he had accepted to take me in, alright; but he had no right to tell me if I could get out or not, no matter my motives. I had more than enough with a bully the likes of Gómez, I didn't need any more.

"Had some important stuff to do downtown, couldn't do otherwise," I answered peevishly.

"It must be rather important if, with the Dvali probably leaving no stone unturned trying to find you, you decide to leave, that or you aren't really conscious of the danger you are in," he pointed out, a stern rictus on his mouth.

"It was," I answered, raising my chin defiantly, but trying to keep a semblance of calmness while trying to stand as tall as possible. Not that it helped, as he was a good head taller than me. "I'm afraid Collective matters can't really wait, I'm sure you can understand."

"Oh, really? If it was for the Collective, as you say, you could have told me, you know, you had but to ask," he shot back.

"Oh, yeah. My bosses at the CNI would have really appreciated a fucking Interpol agent acting as my errand boy, I suppose," I deadpanned. His eyebrows shot up, giving him quite a thunderstruck look that would have been funny in other circumstances.

"The CNI…that's the Spanish equivalent of CIA, or something like that, wasn't it?" his eyebrows descended again into a deep frown. "You aren't a journalist, are you? Or should I call you Agent Vera?" at this, I couldn't help but scoff.

"That's way too glamorous for what I really do. And yes, I'm a journalist, and a hacker, but, most of all, I'm Collective, just to make clear where my loyalties lie," I stated.

"Does Janus know this?" I couldn't help but laugh mirthlessly at this.

"Know? For God's sake, he was the one who wanted to recruit me when he learnt I had joined their ranks," I could still recall that time as if it had been the day before.

"And didn't it occur to you that maybe, just maybe, I would have liked to know that information?" he inquired, his tone curter and gruffer than usual. "I'm not saying that I wouldn't have taken you in if I had known you were a secret agent beforehand, but it seems a rather important detail."

"Well, I believe there's a reason why it's called 'secret', or maybe that word has a different nuance in English," I replied snidely.

"I'm not suggesting you wear it tattooed on your face, just that I wish you would have been a little bit more forthcoming, after all, you know who I am and what my mission is. And not just because of that: put yourself in my shoes for a second here, I come home, you are nowhere to be seen, fist conclusion I would reach is you having been snatched away by the Dvali, after me promising Alex that I would make sure you're safe," he replied dryly, I felt a faint blush creeping up my cheeks. He had a good point there, but did he really have to sound so…patronising? I was conscious I was in big danger, no need for him to remind me of them, but I still had duties to fulfil.

"Look, I can't stress how grateful I feel about you accepting me here and everything, but I need no babysitter. I still have things to do, things that must get done in order to keep this operation, and eventually yours, running, and my work for the CNI is part of them," I retorted, my patience beginning to run very short indeed.

"Grateful, you say? You have a funny way of showing it, hiding something so relevant and sneaking off to do whatever the first chance you got. I just want a bit of honesty, it's not as if I was asking you to trust me unconditionally or anything of the sort, especially taking into account what our job is," he drawled, his eyes looking like frozen pits.

"I guess I should have told you, yes, I'll give you that," I conceded at last, even my stubbornness had some limits, after all. "But you can't presume that I go asking for permission for everything I do, especially not when it's something related to the Collective," I added firmly, I had crossed my arms before myself again.

"Well, being something Collective-related, am I worthy of knowing what was so extremely important?" he still sounded biting, I felt my nostrils flaring when I took a deep breath, trying to get my nerves under check.

"If you must know, in order to maintain my cover with the CNI, I had to go meet a colleague so he could give me some important info to send it through our channels. I went downtown, he gave it to me, and that's it, easy-peasy, took good care of no one following me, if that makes you feel better," I clarified, although decided not to mention anything about the Samizdat, it wasn't such a big deal, in my opinion.

"Yeah, I guess the sewers must have worked perfectly for that purpose," I looked at him agape, how in heaven could he know it? Had he followed me the whole time or something?

"How the hell…" I trailed off.

"Would account for the smell, unless you use a fragrance called eau de sewer or something of the sort," under his serious demeanour I could now perceive a tinge of satisfaction at having thrown me off balance. This time I felt my skin turning crimson. Did I stink that much?

"Seemed as good a way as any of getting from point A to point B without arising suspicion," I shrugged, hoping he would leave it at that.

"No doubt about that, but something tells me that someone as practical as you would have used the occasion to kill two birds with one stone, am I wrong?" he prodded. My brows became two steep arches at that moment, there was no human way in which he could have known that without following me, else that or he had somehow read my mind, which I knew was quite impossible, unless…

"Looks like I'm not the only one who hides things from herself, what about that social enhancer you are just using on me?" I pointed out triumphantly.

"It's terribly handy, especially when I get the feeling someone is not being completely sincere," he said, shrugging his shoulders, apparently unfazed by the fact that I had discovered it. "And don't try to get me side-tracked, what else did you do down there? Some other little friend from the CNI, perhaps?" there he was again, questioning me as if I was a suspect. It was clear he was not going to let it go, like a dog that has sniffed an especially juicy hunk of meat. I would have to tell him, if anything just to make him shut up, and if I tried to hide it he would use that damned CASIE of his and would probably jump at the occasion of accusing me of more falsehood.

"I have some friends down there, let's say they are…extremely keen on the truth being known and everything, although they can sometimes be a bit misguided, I don't know if you've heard from Samizdat…" I gave in.

"Those pamphleteers? Are you one of them?" he inquired.

"As I said, sometimes they get a bit carried away, but, from time to time, you can find info that resonates true, although you usually have to dig deeper, and they have found out some interesting things that have allowed us to find quite interesting intelligence, even Janus knows this, that's why he wants me to keep an eye on them," I started. "So, I dropped by their headquarters to hand them a little article I've been preparing for them."

"Something that, I suppose, was of utmost urgence as well," he remarked.

"As you said, I'm very practical, and I had to go out anyway," I concluded, still irked at his interrogatory and attitude which, to me, were nothing short of despotic. "Are you done with the lecture? Because, in that case, I would like to take a shower to get rid of the stink before it spreads all around the place," he clicked his tongue in displeasure, but apparently decided he didn't want to pursue the argument.

"Guess we're done here, yeah," he replied glacially, still fixing me under his glare.

"Perfect, now, if you'll excuse me…" I tried to sound as detached as ever, but I was longing for an excuse to getting away from him, if only for a short while, until his temper had cooled off a bit. I walked to my bag to get my towel and some clothes and then made a beeline for the bathroom (the ex-cop had taken off his trench coat and was now in the process of pouring himself some whiskey) and locked myself in there, heaving a silent sigh.

I took off my clothes and sniffed at them. They reeked, my coat included; I would have to ask my host if I could use the washing machine. At this, I couldn't help but feel a pang of regret; I had behaved like an ungrateful little brat once more, when it was clear he simply wanted to help, even if I wholeheartedly disagreed with those semi-authoritarian ways of his.

I stepped into the shower, hoping it would calm down my raging nerves. After dawdling for some minutes, looking for more pretext not to leave the bathroom, I squared my shoulders and prepared myself for the presumably long philippic that I would have thrown at anyone displaying my behaviour. Adam was nowhere to be seen, although I could hear some slight noises coming from his bedroom, so I guessed he had locked himself there, either trying to avoid further conflict or simply not wanting to stay in the same room as me.

Next, I sat before my computer, decided to look inside the database for the remainder of the evening, feeling guilty once more, but this time about having forgotten Markus' ordeal. I had been at it for quite a while when I heard familiar, heavy but muted footsteps, and then my host appeared round the corner.

"Are you analysing the database?" he inquired. He had changed into what I had already assumed to be his "comfortable clothes" consisting of faded sweatpants and a T-shirt.

"Yeah, couldn't really do anything in the morning," I replied, glancing back at the photo of a particularly nasty-looking criminal who had a shaved head and several scars on his scalp, but nothing reminiscent of a tattoo. Without proffering another word, he disappeared again, back to his room, and came back a few seconds later, holding a heavy-looking swivelling chair with a single hand as if it was weightless. He set it at the other side of the table and then picked up the laptop on top of the counter.

"Hey, don't worry about it, you've been working the whole day," I said; it was true, he had been probably up to his neck in the TF, he didn't need to add more things to his schedule, and after how I had behaved, I didn't really feel like I deserved his help with this.

"One person can't sift through hundreds of profiles," he said plainly while he took a seat, he looked resolute and I could tell that the matter was not up for discussion and, not wanting to somehow antagonize him even further, I supposed it was just as well.

"Alright, I'm on the 506th profile, you can start by the 700th, so we don't overlap," I suggested, he nodded and started tapping on his keyboard.

Thus, we started the mind-numbing task of checking profile after profile for some man with the characteristics we were looking for. The room was in almost total silence, only broken by our fingers on the keyboard, our bodies stirring on our chairs from time to time. The other day had been pretty similar, but that time there wasn't such awkward tension in the air. I even made a point of trying not to look at him and just focus on my screen as much as possible. Minute after minute elapsed, and I could feel my eyes getting tired and an increasing feeling of hunger. However, I decided to wait a bit longer until he proposed it, I didn't want to seem demanding or anything on top of what had happened that day. Thus, I went on, trying to ignore the emptiness at the pit of my stomach. However, when I had finally managed to focus on my task, a pitiful and very audible groan broke the silence; I lifted my gaze from the computer to look at my host, who raised his eyebrows.

"If you want we can stop to grab something to eat," he suggested.

"It's alright, I'm not that hungry," I replied, trying to brush it off, but my stomach insisted with another growl. With an expression that looked between exasperated and slightly amused, he stood up and walked to the kitchen area, with me reluctantly in tow. Thus, we whipped up something for both of us and then sat to eat it before the big TV, watching the "news", or whatever that was. The atmosphere was not as tense as before, but we were still terribly silent, and it was not the amicable silence of other days. When we were done, I went back to my chair, and the ex-cop followed suit.

"You don't have to go on, I can do it myself, really," I insisted once more, trying not to sound impatient or irritated.

"Aurora, I've already decided I'm going to help, so you can choose between wasting your breath or saving it for something useful," he replied, with that tone of his that apparently admitted no discussion. I contented myself with rolling my eyes and then turned them to that orthopaedic database. That motherfucker was nowhere to be seen; it was like trying to find a particular grain of sand in the desert. The more profiles I checked, the more discouraged I felt; the absolute dullness of the task did not help and pretty much everything, from writing reports for the CNI to having my toenails ripped out seemed better than it. Looking up to see how my partner was faring, I discovered him holding a sharp cheekbone against his cybernetic hand, as if propped on it, eyes closed and mouth hanging slightly open. At this, the slight frown creasing my forehead softened, and I was assailed once more by guilt.

"Hey, Adam…my head is going to explode, I think it's better if we call it quits for today," I decided the best course of action was saying I felt tired as, probably, if I suggested he was the one who couldn't go on, he would just ignore me or try to make light of it.

"Mmmhhh?" he groaned, opening a bleary mechanical eye. He stretched and rubbed his face with a black hand. "I have some Ibuprofen if you need, but yeah, maybe it's best if we leave it for tomorrow," he got up from his chair.

"Don't worry, I just need some sleep, you've helped me a lot, really," I wanted to say something else, but something, pride, most probably, would not let me.

"Don't even mention it, I should go to bed too…sleep well," he turned off his computer and picked up his chair again. I bade him good night as well and prepared myself to sleep, turning off the lights and everything, then covering myself under the covers he had given me, on his sofa.

It was a rather lacklustre way of finishing the day, it hadn't been a marvel to begin with, what with having to meet Gómez, and then having that disagreement with the guy who, at the moment, was my closest ally in that city. Why did I have to be so stupid? I had to find out some way of making things right.