Chapter Eight

            Felix's pocket secretary had an orgasm across the glass-topped nightstand.  He looked out from under the thick comforter in time to see it scoot across and fall onto the floor. Felix sighed and sat up. When they arrived home, he took up residence in the twin's bedroom. The twins, like Felix, were good at keeping things in order, so he had no problem with falling asleep in one of their beds. Felix bent over and picked the secretary off the floor. He flipped the top open and pushed the RECEIVE button.

            "Guten tag, Herr Page." The German greeted. He paused a moment, seeing Felix in bed with nothing on but a bandage around his chest. "Did I catch you at a bad time?"

            "Not at all. What time is it?" Felix asked.

            "Twelve eighteen." The German replied.

            "I see. What can I do for you?"

            "Actually, it is nothing major. A curiosity, actually. The Government of Seattle has sent me your death certificate. Would you like it?" He asked. Felix laughed.

            "I'm dead?" He exclaimed.

            "It would seem so."

            "Oh, yeah I want it. I'll have it framed. Put it over the john where I'll see it everyday." Felix said.

"Toilet humor?" The German asked. Felix smiled.

"Perhaps. Say, how long will you be there?"

            "Until six o'clock this evening."

            "Very good. See you later." Felix said. He closed the secretary, jumped out of bed, put his suit pants on and went into the living room. He saw Nocturne, in the same dress she was in the night prior, lying on the couch with her hand over her eyes.

            "Nocturne? You okay?" Felix asked.

            "Shhh." She hissed. "Don't make any noise. Hangover."

            "Oh yeah?" Felix asked. He went to the end of the couch her head was at and knelt down. Nocturne nodded.

            "Wanna see how I made pocket money my freshman year?" Felix whispered.

            "Not so loud!" Nocturne whined. Felix put his hands on Nocturne's ears.

            "Now relax." Felix said. He closed his eyes, and counted backwards from three. Right after Felix counted one, Nocturne sat straight up, gripping her head screaming. After two seconds, she quieted, and let go of her head. She looked at Felix. "Incredible." She said. "What did you do?"

            "Basically? I just took your headache and compacted it into one quick flash. Everyone says it's the worst pain they've ever felt, but paid me ten nuyen a shot to avoid suffering for the rest of the afternoon." Nocturne opened her mouth and moved her jaw in circles a couple of times. She dug into a pocket in her dress and withdrew a twenty nuyen note.

            "Credit for the next one." Nocturne said. Felix held up his hand.

            "No, no. It's on the house." Nocturne tossed the note on the table.

            "Someone will use it." She floated off the couch and into the kitchen. "So do you have any plans today?"

            "Yeah. I'm going to pick up my death certificate."

            "Excuse me?"

            "Yeah. Seattle thinks I'm dead."

            "I should be so lucky."

            "To be dead?"

            "Just have people think I am." Nocturne said. She collected items from the refrigerator and dropped them on the counter. "Care for something to eat?"

            "After while." Felix said. He went back into his room, put his suit back on, straightened his tie, picked up his secretary and stepped into the bathroom. As he was busy undoing his pants, he noticed that, despite the odd suggestion he had made a minute earlier, someone actually did hang something over the toilet. A newspaper clipping, arranged professionally in a simple black frame. Felix leaned in closer to read it as he relieved himself.

            "Vice Chairman of University Found Dead, Headless."

"This is the address?" Sparky asked behind him in the dark shadows of the van.

            "Oh yes." Morris growled back. The light from the lamppost only caught his most prominent features: his eyes, his new tusks and his new horns. Sparky watched the large mansion from down the street a few minutes more. Soon, the gate opened and a sleek black car pulled out slowly and drove away from them. The gate closed automatically. Sparky started his and began to trail the car. They followed the car through the night until it cruised through a sparsely populated area between cities.

            "Now." Sparky said. Morris mashed his large thumb on a remote control. A tiny vial of corrosive compound, responding to the signal commanded by the remote control a quarter of a mile back broke open, dripping liquid on the tire. The liquid swiftly ate through the tire. The tire blew out, despite the safety measure built inside the tire. Since the safety measure was also made of vulcanized rubber, it also succumbed to the liquid. The car skidded to the right for a second, then straightened and finally screeched to a halt. Sparky pulled up behind it slowly as a man got out of the car. Sparky got out. He could hear the man cursing as he walked up to him.

            "Hey! You need some help?" Sparky called. The man didn't seem to notice him.

            "Fucking Christ! These goddamned DualTires aren't worth a buggered buck! Why in the hell did it blow?" He screamed at the empty night sky. He bent down to investigate the tire. Sparky still approached, and when Sparky was almost on top of him, he stood up again, nearly busting Sparky in the mouth. Both were startled.

            "Jesus, kid. Who are you?" The man asked, holding his chest.

            "Oh my God, are you that guy Montgomery on the trid?" Sparky asked, amazed. Montgomery straightened and adjusted his tie.

            "Yes." Montgomery answered with a slight arrogance.

            "Wow! I can't believe it! Here I am, just stopping to help a guy out, and I meet the Vice Chairman Montgomery!" Sparky exclaimed. Montgomery beamed.

            "You're stopping to help me out?" Montgomery asked. "That is very generous of you. I only thought rampaging mutants and genetic nightmares rode through here at this time of night." Sparky waved his hand at him.

            "Naw. Just a good, ol' fashioned human being, helping another of his kind out." Sparky said. "How about you leave this thing here, and we'll drive up the road and I can drop you off at the University. You should be able to contact a tow." Montgomery accepted his offer of a ride back to the University with a smile. They walked to the van, Montgomery and Sparky got in and started down the road. Suddenly, a massive hand covered Montgomery's head and one held him down over his chest. As predicted, he attempted to scream and escape, but Morris' new found strength made sure neither would happen.

            "Good evening, Vice Chairman." Morris whispered into his ear. "I wanted to express my concern with the speech you gave over the trid this afternoon." The Chairman stopped wiggling and looked with terror filled eyes at the large, long toothed face of Morris. "You see, I don't think the metahuman community will respond favorably, as it makes you out to be biased against them."

            "Now, now, Professor Pribnow!" Sparky exclaimed. "I'm sure the Chairman was only concerned for the well-being of his students!" Montgomery attempted to exclaim his disbelief that this troll was in fact the former professor of English.

            "You're probably right. I mean, who am I, Dr. Morris Pribnow, to judge a man as distinguished, as sophisticated, as renowned as Jonathan Montgomery." Morris released his hands from the Chairman slowly. He panted, sweating in fear. He said nothing for a few moments, but then swallowed and took a deep breath.

            "So… Dr. Pribnow…" Montgomery started.

            "Dr. Pribnow?" Sparky exclaimed in surprised. "Who's that?" Morris leaned in on Montgomery, grinning evilly. "That's Bubba." The troll grabbed the chairman again and pulled him into the back of the van.

            "Every one of them dumb jokes you've ever heard about a guy named Bubba in prison, well, your friend is going to show you why they were concocted in the first place!" The van cruised down the interstate, rocking wildly every so often.

            The van eventually crawled up to a large building deep in the belly of Seattle. The entire front and both sides were lined by huge motorcycles, made and modified for much larger riders than humans. The front was adorned by a gigantic neon sign, blinking "Big Rhino". The van stopped in the street right in front of the door. The bouncer standing in front took notice and stepped closer. Sparky jumped out and slid the side door open. Bubba stretched his legs from his cross-legged position, sat up, reached back into the van and withdrew a very large gym bag.

            "No stopping on the street. Move yer car, nibblet." The bouncer, a troll with mountains of muscle under a tank top, bellowed at Sparky. He turned to Bubba. "And you gotta be the prettiest looking elf I've ever seen. We're closed." Behind the bouncer, a couple more trolls and orcs came out, hoping this would escalate into a brawl. Bubba stepped closer and actually revealed himself to be at least half a foot taller than the bouncer. He kept his gaze locked, but his face calm.

            "I was under the impression that this is where a man like me could get a decent meal." Bubba replied. The bouncer laughed.

            "You gotta sweeter voice than my mum!" The bouncer exclaimed. "I betcha beg for mercy real pretty." The small crowd behind him laughed. "Whatcha got in the purse, beautiful?" Bubba surprised everyone by tossing it over to the crowd. One stout orc caught it. He unzipped in and pulled the chairman out by the back of his suit. He was bound and gagged by duct tape.

            The crowd fell silent. The bouncer's mouth dropped slightly. He returned his gaze to Bubba's still, calm face.

            "That who we think it is?" The bouncer asked. Bubba nodded. "We were watching the trid when that happened. I, uh, I said that if I saw that guy who expressed in that school, and if I saw the guy who didn't do anything when it happened, I'd tell 'em."

            "Tell them what, exactly? Bubba asked.

            "I dunno what I was gonna tell the old guy, but I knew I wanted to tell the new guy that I wanted to buy him a drink." The bouncer said, smiling. "I figure anyone who tears apart a gang after being a mutant for five minutes deserves a little respect." He patted him on the shoulder and laughed. "I think the guys back there will tell the Chairman what they think." The crowd laughed loudly and carried the Chairman into the bar, eyes wider than ever.

            "Catch you later, Bubba." Sparky said. He jumped into the van, waved at the bouncer and sped off.

            "You know that kid?" Bubba asked.

            "Aw, hell yeah. Work with him on a few occasions. Best damn rigger I ever knew." Bubba started to ask exactly what a rigger was, but decided to save it. The bouncer took him inside to introduce him to the rest of his "kind".

            Bubba opened his eyes and smiled. He looked directly above to the pale blue sky, contemplating his position in the world. He was lying on the roof of the decrepit building he lived in, soaking up the precious little sun he had a chance to. His profession didn't allow him to operate during banker's hours. He inhaled deeply.

            "How is it that my happiness, my position, my everything, grew when I did?" Bubba asked himself. His phone rang softly next to him. He sighed, picked it up and placed it to his head.

            "Ah, Herr Page. Come in." The German greeted as he waved Felix in. The German took a manila envelope out of his top drawer and handed it to Felix. Felix opened it and looked at the document inside.

            "Yep. Authentic death certificate." Felix said. He rubbed his chest under his tie, remembering why the coroner's office issued him one in the first place. His secretary vibrated in his pocket. Felix dropped the certificate on the deck and pulled the secretary out of his pocket.

            "Excuse me a second." Felix said. "Hello?" Bubba appeared.

            "Where are you, Fletch?" Bubba asked.

            "Commercial district. Why?"

            "One of our talismongers called. We have an orc selling a spell lock and a power focus of the likes he's never seen before."

            "It's that powerful?" Felix asked.

            "No, that ugly."

"Eh?" Felix answered in confusion. "Sir, what did the two foci look like?"

"Oh, um, I believe one was a gold medallion with 'Born to Disco' inscribed." The German recalled "The second was a large belt buckle with 'Cowboy Up' inscribed." Felix's eyebrows tilted in dismay.

"These were magical focuses?"

"Unfortunately, our contract talismonger had an odd sense of humor and a taste for twentieth century jewelry."

"Do you know where the Mexican food place is out there?" Bubba interrupted.

            "No."

            "I do." The German said. "Just two blocks North. You can walk there easily."

            "Yes, I'll meet you there in ten minutes. Hurry." Bubba said. He closed his secretary, causing Felix's monitor to flicker to blue. Felix snapped his shut and rammed it down his pocket.

            "I'll pick this up later. Goodbye!" Felix said and walked briskly for the office's exit. When he hit the street, he ran. His skin tingled with hate, with his memories of the orc and of his family. Felix dodged people and obstacles, picking up speed until he reached the small crowded restaurant on the corner. His face burned with remembered anger, which was multiplied by the cutting heat of the summer sun. He wiped his brow and straightened his tie. He wiped his hand on his pant leg, over the bulge that was the small pistol resting at the bottom of his pocket. Images of him firing it flashed through Felix's mind. He ran over them over and over until Bubba climbed out of a cab in front of the corner shop.

            "Felix!" Bubba shouted. Felix snapped out of his trance to see Bubba. He walked up to him and the two proceeded away from the ten-lane street that carved through the business district and for the smaller shops deeper into the city. Soon, Bubba held his hand before Felix, directing him to stop. Bubba peered down an alley, then waved him over to join him.

            "There's the place." Bubba said, barely above a whisper. "If there's any trouble, you make a break for it. No reason to get yourself killed over a grudge."

            "The guy killed my family, Bubba." Felix said coldly.

            "You want to join 'em?" Bubba asked, loudly. Felix breathed hard out his nose. "If there's any trouble, you run. No desperado crap."

            "Okay." Felix said. He straightened his tie again. Felix walked for the small shop, followed closely by Bubba. A yellowed sign with four red Japanese characters hung over the door. Assorted junk sat outside the window. More Japanese characters in ancient paint flaked off the window.

            "This doesn't look like any of the talismonger shops I've ever seen." Felix said, looking into the shop.

            "Says they sell magical items." Bubba said. He pointed at a series of characters along the side of the window. Felix sighed and stepped inside. Bubba had to duck to fit through the door, but straightened when he was under the ceiling.

            The shop was full to the brim with shelves of junk pawned and forgotten over the years. In the back was the cashier, surrounded by a steel cage. Most of the items worth anything hung behind the register on hooks screwed into the cheap drywall. Felix walked directly for the cage. Inside was a fat, bald man wearing a sweat stained tank top.

            "We got a call about someone selling a couple foci. An orc." Bubba said, looking straight past the cashier.

            "Nope. Ain't had foci in here for months." The cashier said. Bubba looked at the cashier, then at Felix.

            "Let's go. Now." Bubba said. Suddenly, a black car stopped in front of the door and three Japanese men stepped out. Both Felix and Bubba could see another person sitting in the back: a very badly burned orc with his most of his head wrapped in pressure bandages. The center man immediately raised his arm and fired and entire clip at Bubba. Bubba staggered backwards and fell against the wall. Felix stepped backwards and dug into his pocket for the gun. As soon as he pulled it out, one of the men kicked it out of his hand and punched him in the stomach. Felix fell holding his midsection, coughing. On the floor, the same man punched the side of his head, knocking him out. Two of them grabbed his arms and feet and carried him out into the alley. The cashier, stunned by the entire event, finally scrambled for the phone, punching the speed dial button to Lone Star several times.

            "C'mon, c'mon…" He pleaded into the receiver. "Hello? Yeah! I got some guy here that's been shot!" Suddenly, Bubba rolled over to his side and struggled to get up. He gripped the cage and hoisted his frame to stand.

            "Holy Christ!" The cashier exclaimed.

            "Drop the phone!" Bubba growled through his teeth. The cashier dropped the receiver and backed to the other end of the cage. Bubba tore his t-shirt off to reveal eight slugs deeply embedded in a Kevlar vest. He unfastened the vest and dropped it to the floor. Slugs dislodged and scattered like loose change. A pair of slugs broke through the vest, leaving small, neat wounds right under his ribcage. He pulled his secretary out of his pocket and hit the button programmed to dial DocWagon directly. The screen flashed on with the DocWagon logo. Bubba slid against the cage back down to the floor.

            "Thank you for choosing DocWagon." A polite, programmed voice said. "Our response team has locked on to your signal. Please select priority." A numbered list of options came over the screen. Bubba pushed choice number two. "Thank you. Please remember that selecting a priority above your current condition is grounds for revocation of your DocWagon membership."

The screen blinked to a smaller DocWagon logo and a timer counting backwards from three minutes. "If a response team does not respond to your situation, or you die before the timer expires, your care will be free of charge."

* * * * * * *

"Okay, dude, Circumstance is here. Hold up." Sparky said into the phone. He held the soy bologna sandwich he was eating over the receiver. "'Stance! Bubba wants to talk to ya!" Emily came out of her bedroom and went to Sparky. Sparky handed off the phone and went back to munching on his sandwich.

            "Yeah, Bubba?" Emily asked. "Whatcha need?"

            "You ain't gonna believe it." Bubba said.

            "Where are you?"

            "DocWagon clinic, downtown."

            "Holy…! What happened?" Emily grabbed the receiver with both fists.

            "We got a call, said that our orc was selling the foci at a place in the business district. We went down then and got jumped by three Asian dudes. They shot me close on fifteen times and carried Fletch away." Bubba explained.

            "What are we gonna do?" Emily exclaimed, closely hysterical. Bubba looked up from the gurney he was on at the Stainless Steel spider standing on his chest. It's legs came from a shiny dome the size of a Frisbee. Six legs kept the saucer even over Bubba while the other two fished around inside Bubba through the entry wounds. It pulled one or it's legs back, revealing it to be a foot long. The other end held the mangled remains of a bullet. It dropped it inside a compartment in the dome while the other arm continued fishing.

            "Dear, the only thing I'm concerned about it the chunk of metal eighteen millimeters from my spine and weather they find it or not." Bubba said, dropping his head back down. "I should be out of here in an hour. Can Spark get me?"

            "Sparky!" Emily yelled. "Can you get Bubba in an hour?"

            "Yeah, but it'll be tight. That van isn't as huge as the Bison was." Sparky replied.

            "Yes, he can."

            "Okay, dear." Bubba said. "I'll figure out what to do about Fletch when I get home. Goodbye." Bubba closed his secretary and laid it on the gurney.

            "Hey, doc!" Bubba called. "Mind getting me some more anaesthetic? I can feel this thing fishing around inside me."

* * * * * * *

            When Felix awoke, he didn't open his eyes. He felt very groggy. Felix took in his surroundings as best he could. He knew he was sitting with his hands and feet handcuffed to the chair. His arm hurt. He recognized the pain to be an IV, and guessed that to be the source of the haze his head was swimming in. His thigh also hurt. He recognized that pain to be from the sliver of wood from the violin that was digging into his skin. He moved his leg slightly, shifting the piece of wood and providing relief. When he did, he heard movement in front of him, a door open, and Japanese being spoken between two people.

            "Why, or why, couldn't I have taken Japanese instead of German in high school?" Felix silently cursed. Something tapped his shoulder hard. Felix lifted his head and opened his eyes. His vision was seriously blurred. He could only see a black figure and a gray room.

            "Are you awake?" asked the figure in a very Asian accented, very cold voice. Felix nodded his head slightly.

            "Then you will tell me where Celine Kryer is." The voice ordered. Felix looked at the figure again. He swallowed, trying to open his mouth to speak.

            "Who?" Felix finally asked. The figure approached and slapped him in the face. The chair tipped on two legs and came back down. The sliver of wood went back to digging into Felix's leg.

            "Where is Celine Kryer? The woman you are currently seeing." The figure said.

            "Oh!" Felix said, nodding his head. Felix knew what he was talking about. Emily. "Celine! She got, um…" Felix swallowed again. "She was taken in by Lone Star. Happened last week." Felix got slapped again. This time, a few boxes prevented him from crashing over. Felix pushed off the boxes with his elbow and dropped back to proper sitting position.

            "I do not believe you." The figure yelled. "Where is she?!"

            "Are you going to slap me again?" Felix asked. He did. "Guess so." Felix sighed. "I don't know. So I figure you'll keep me here until either you find her, she finds me, or you give up on her. Either way, I assume you'll kill me, right?"

            "You are very astute, Irwin Fletcher." The figure said. Felix smiled. More people saw that movie than he thought.

            "Hey, aren't you the guy that shot up her apartment?" Felix asked. No answer. "Yeah, it was you!" Felix exclaimed. He blinked his eyes a few times to try to clear his vision, but it didn't work. "She tell you why she wouldn't sleep with you? Huh? She told me." Felix laughed. Felix had an odd habit of getting bold in dire situations. The figure approached and bent towards Felix. Felix could see a round, white face.

            "Why?" The figure growled. He leaned closer.

            "She said people who's penises are smaller than their noses aren't deserving of her pity." The figure stood up straight and punched him in the stomach. Felix bent over, straining at his shackled wrists, retching. He was happy he didn't eat anything since the night before.

            "Yeah." Felix coughed. "I deserved that." The figure exited, slamming the door. Felix could hear the small servo of a security camera quietly buzz to zoom in on him. He drifted back to sleep.

* * * * * * *

"Is that the only reason the Yak might be after you?" Sparky asked. Emily, Bubba and Sparky were in the living room of their apartment. Bubba stretched out on the couch, holding a twenty-pound bag of ice recently purchased at a gas station against his ribs.

"As far as I can tell. He wanted to get it on, I said no, he came in with three guys and a big gun." Emily explained.

            "When you say 'big gun', is that ammo the size of a soda can 'big gun', or more than two barrels 'big gun'?" Sparky asked, making quote marks with his fingers. Bubba glared at him; the universal sign for "shut up".

"It has to be dissention in the ranks." Bubba said. "A Yakuza member doesn't show off that much power if he can't get his way. It would have much easier to kill you. Either that, or he's not with the Yakuza and just claiming he is. But no one's that stupid to go around saying that."

            "So we ain't screwin' with the whole organization?" Sparky asked.

            "Probably not. More like one spoiled child. But as soon as we mess with this one individual, the Yakuza will get in on it. That is, if he is actually in the organization."

            "So where is Fletch?" Emily asked. Bubba shook his head.

            "I don't know. We can do some asking around tonight if you want." Bubba suggested. Emily nodded.

            After midnight, the three squeezed into Sparky's vehicle and drove downtown to a large club. The bass of the music pounding inside could be heard from blocks away. They walked passed the long line to get in and up to the bouncer; a troll as large as Bubba was. Bubba gave him a five hundred nuyen note and was waved inside.

            "So where's your friend?" Bubba shouted at Emily.

            "I don't see her." Emily shouted back. She pointed at an empty booth. They walked across the floor, squeezing past masses of fluorescently tattooed teenagers high on the latest "legal" drug that hit the streets. As soon as they sat down, the volume dropped dramatically.

            "Did the music stop?" Sparky asked, sliding over to the center, cocking his head to listen for music.

            "No. These booths work on elliptical theory. Cuts off ninety nine percent of outside sound." Emily explained.

            "Good. That noise was driving me crazy." Bubba grunted. They ordered drinks, chatted and waited for Emily's friend. A waitress came back a second time.

            "Excuse me, ma'am?" The waitress asked. She presented a folded piece of paper to Emily. "A patron asked me to give you this. We have Matrix connections at every table." The waitress turned and left. Emily opened the piece of paper.

            "No wonder." Emily said. She dug into her pocket for a coil of cable. "She's waiting for me in some chat room somewhere." She searched the table for the socket and discovered it under her glass. She plugged the wire into her head, into the table, and sat back. The nightclub and the resonant noise of the music disappeared as Emily shot down a thin neon tunnel. She torpedoed out into the digital sky of the Matrix.

            "Display RTG address." Emily commanded. Three feet away, a little box appeared, displaying RTG 1199 Seattle.

            "Say what?" Emily said in disbelief to herself. "Display current users, RTG 1199 Seattle." Another box appeared right next to the address box and stretched into a long rectangle, displaying every legitimate user's handle.

            "Locate user White Doll." Emily said. The box of legitimate users vanished and a new rectangle containing one name appeared. Emily reached for the name and touched it. Emily's construct was pulled down to the virtual landscape and into a programmed park. The park she entered looked exactly like a park would. There was grass, benches, a fountain and even a swing set. The park was illuminated from an invisible source of light. The entire place was deserted except for one figure. It approached Emily.

            "Couldn't get your lazy butt out of the house to see me in person, eh?" Emily said. A box appeared out of the corner of her vision, recording her words in text. As the figure floated closer, USER: WHITE DOLL blinked over her head in red letters then vanished. White Doll looked like a very slender woman, her skin very black, with a white mask. The white mask had black eye holes and deeply red lips.

            "I am sitting four booths down from you, Circumstance." White Doll said. Her mask stayed stationary. "What do you need?"

            "This park is secure, right?"

            "Yes. I have injected ten minutes of looping white noise into the construct. This will keep most users away."

"Are you still fairly tight with the Yakuza?" Emily asked.

            "Perhaps. What do you need to know?"

            "I need to know where they're keeping someone they kidnapped this afternoon."

            "That is very interesting." White Doll said. "But it is also expensive."

            "The usual?" Emily asked.

            "If you would, please." White Doll replied. Emily reached into an animated pocket and withdrew a bundle of bills. She tossed it to White Doll, initializing the funds transfer process. The bundle of nuyen hovered and flickered slightly, the continued on it's flight path for White Doll's hand. Upon contact, the nuyen vanished into her hand as if she absorbed it.

            "Thank you. Who do you suspect kidnapped this person?"

            "I don't know his name. He's very vulgar, very violent, and very horny." Emily said. White Doll tossed her head back and laughed a recorded laugh. Her face remained static.

            "I believe I know exactly who he is. Tell me, did he claim to be an oyabun? For the Shigeda-gumi?" White Doll asked.

            "I think so. Whatever it meant is beyond me. I assumed it's the boss."

            "Correct. That's what it means, but he is certainly nowhere near that high in the organization. The man you're dealing with is Yoshi Shira. His is the brother of one of the higher ranked officers of the gumi. His position has absolutely no value to the organization. His only job is to mind his business and do what his brother tells him. For this he gets enough pocket money to feed his drug habit."

"Yoshi is also a very violent, very visceral man. He lives for torture and abuse. He has killed for sport and has a history of collecting souvenirs. Video is his favorite."

            "Now I know what I'm paying for. Go on." Emily said.

            "If your friend was taken by Yoshi, and I believe he was, Yoshi will be videotaping him."

            "Any idea where he is?" Emily asked.

"No. The only link I have to him is his dealer. White Doll plucked a scroll out of midair and tossed it to Emily. She tore the red wax seal off and unrolled the scroll. Listed within was a telephone number. She rolled it up again and pressed it lengthwise against her head. Her head absorbed the scroll, writing it to memory.

            "If I'm not mistaken, Shira arranges to pick up his purchase from him directly." White Doll explained.

"I don't know." Emily said. "Wouldn't he send an errand boy to pick it up for him?"

"Uh-uh. He picks it up personally. He usually consumes half of it before returning back home or to work, and he's much too paranoid of his staff."

"This information was a bit pricey, but I do appreciate it, White Doll." Emily said. "Thank you." White Doll bowed slightly and blinked out of existence. Emily went to her pocket again and took out a very large and exaggerated gun. She pointed it at each of the boxes that hovered near her and blasted them, deleting each one and purging it from her deck. She closed her eyes and shut the Matrix out of her mind, letting the soft beat of the club come back to her. She reached up, pulled the plug out, and opened her eyes to Sparky and Bubba chatting. They looked at her.

            "Done?" Sparky asked as Emily wound the wire around her fingers loosely. She stuffed it back into her pocket.

            "I've got a lead. Our kidnapper loves drugs."

            "Excellent. Phone number?" Sparky asked. Emily brought it up over her optical display and read it off to Sparky.

            "Oh, that's funny." Sparky said.

            "What?" Bubba asked.

            "Wanna hear a story about the luckiest guy in the sprawl? That's Michael Boone's telephone number, but everyone knows him as Stupid Mike." Sparky explained. "He earned his nickname when his answering machine used to say 'If you want Bliss, Burn or old fashioned 'E', please leave your name, address and size of your order and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Beep!'. You can guess where he spent the next twenty seven months, eh?"

            "Anyway, when he got out, he didn't use an answering machine, but he still kept dealing. When octagons got real popular about three, four years ago, he dealt those along with all the other dealers, but he picked up a very exclusive client. No big deal. Most dealers usually pick up a couple higher-ups. But then all the new ways to fry your cranium came out and all the dealers switched with the clientele. Not Stupid Mike. His one big customer still wanted octagons, and he was making such a good living off this one guy he decided to drop all other substances and keep him happy. Last I heard, he's the only guy out there who still deals octagons."

            "Great. I know all I'll ever need about a dealer named 'Stupid Mike'." Bubba groaned.

            "But I bet Circumstance can name his number one customer." Sparky said, pointing at Emily. Bubba raised his head and slowly nodded in understanding. Sparky reached to a pocket in his leather pants and took out a small phone. He tapped the numbers and held the phone to his head.

            "Hey, hey! Mikey!" Sparky greeted. "How's things going? Wiz, man, real wiz. Say, you think I can score some Sparkle from you? The kids down here at this club are just into it, you know!" Sparky's smile drooped at the corners slightly. "You don't, huh? Why not? Awww, come on, Mikey! This is Spark! You know me, man! You can kick me a little." Sparky winked at Bubba. Bubba rolled his eyes; he never totally approved of Sparky's planning or tactics. "Oh, you seriously don't have any? Well, you still got some of those moldy octagons around somewhere? Yeah, yeah, I know you just made 'em. Stop bitching and tell me where I can score, oh, half a pound from you. Yeah, eight ounces. Of course I know how many pills are in eight ounces. Yeah, I have the money. Would you just shut up and tell me where to meet you?" Sparky fell silent while he listened to Mike on the other end. "Okay. Now that I think about it, can you make it a full pound? Just found some extra creds in my shorts. Later." Sparky slapped the phone shut and shoved it into his pants again.

            "That fool is too damned scared to walk the streets with seventy eight thousand worth of methamphetamines." He explained.

            "Rightfully so." Bubba said.

            "He gave me his address. Let's go." Sparky said.

            "Whoa! One second there!" Bubba exclaimed, holding Sparky's arm. "What if he has some assault cannon and decides he's not going to sell tonight?"

            "We steal that mother." Sparky said. "How many octo-heads do you know?" Bubba didn't reply. "See? No one's buying except that Yakuza guy. You think that he can afford one? Chill. Let's go." Sparky pulled loose and stepped back out onto the packed dance floor. Bubba and Emily followed. After ten minutes of driving, they ended up in a section of nice, lower-middle class neighborhood; the kind where graffiti was on the walls but it was still quiet and safe enough to go to your car at two in the morning and not get robbed. Sparky parked his van in front of Mike's garage.

            "All dealer's are paranoid so…" Sparky started.

            "I know, I know." Bubba said. "I shall wait outside. Keep me company, Circumstance?"

            "Of course." Emily said. They all got out and while Bubba and Emily waited on the sidewalk while Sparky went to the front door. He pounded on it twice.

            "Mikey!" Sparky shouted. "Open up, you octo-head!" The door flew open. A slightly overweight man in a wife beater, blue striped boxer shorts and a two-day old beard stood there holding the doorknob.

            "Ha, ha. You're funny." Mike said. "Get in here before you let the whole complex know who I am." Sparky stepped into the utterly filthy apartment. Mike sat down on a couch with no cushions and picked his cigarette from the edge of the arm of the couch.

            "So how you been? I haven't seen you since I placed an order on your answering machine." Sparky said, putting his hands on his hips.

            "Sparky, are you gonna buy or not?" Mike exclaimed irritably. The cigarette fell from his mouth and into his lap. He picked it up and placed it back into his mouth.

            "Geez, Mike, I just wanted to know how you were doing! You still doing business with that one Yak dude? He know that octagons are out of style?"

            "That's none of his or your goddamned business." He said quietly. Suddenly, Sparky felt a sharp point against his back. Out of reflex, he raised his hands.

            "You don't have a pound of octagons, do you?" Sparky said.

            "I haven't made any for three weeks." Mike said. "Good thing you showed up."

            "Alright, chump." The greasy voice said behind Sparky's ear. "Just tell me what pocket the creds are in and you won't have to worry about a hole in your back.

            Across the room, the doorknob jiggled, then the entire door came off it's hinges as Bubba pulled it away. He tossed the door behind him, ducked and entered the apartment. The man behind Sparky whipped the knife in front of Sparky's throat and poked his head above Sparky's shoulder to see what was happening.

            "You come any closer and I'll slice his throat, trog!" He growled. Bubba reached for his revolver and held it out in front of him. He walked toward the man behind Sparky until the gun barrel was over his nose. The man was cross-eyed and trembling.

            "That a…" The man started. He swallowed. "That a flare gun?"

"I hope you have a tattoo or some kind of birthmark below your neck, because if I have to pull the trigger, they won't even have dental records to identify you by." Bubba said in a soft, even voice. He knew this was just a street punk with no spine to call his own. The guy dropped the knife and fled out the front door.

"You okay, Sparky?" Bubba asked, replacing the gun where he got it.

"Oh yeah. Just had a fucking knife to my throat, that's all." Sparky replied, rubbing his neck. He looked to the couch. "Where's Mike?" Bubba looked down the short hallway at the dirty bathroom door. He walked to it and pushed it open slowly. It reeked from the long un-flushed toilet. The moldy shower curtain was drawn shut.

"Now I realize you deserve your moniker. Get out of there and tell us where your Yakuza client is." Bubba ordered. Suddenly, a shot punched through the curtain and struck Bubba in the stomach. Bubba looked down and tried to put his pinky through the small hole. He shook his shirt. The slug dropped to the yellow linoleum. Bubba grabbed the curtain and jerked it off the rod. Mike was curled up in the bathtub, holding his head.

"Don't kill me, don't kill me, don't kill me…" He whimpered. Bubba growled softly, reached down and took a fistful of Mike's hair. As Bubba lifted him in the air, Mike started to cry. Bubba sighed.

"Would you please tell me where your Yakuza customer is?" Bubba asked nicely. "You don't have to cry about it. Please?" Mike continued to whine and mumble incoherently.  "I promise to put you down."

"Hey, Bubba! Don't kill him." Sparky said. He walked into the bathroom. After two paces in, he closed his eyes and jerked back his head.

"Kee-rhyst! That's a funky toilet." Sparky exclaimed. He waved his hand in front of his face rapidly.

"What is it, Sparky?" Bubba said. "I'm busy."

"Anyway, there was a message printed out on the phone." Sparky held it up to read. "Michael, I will kill you for forgetting to bring me my shipment. I will tear out your heart and feed it to you before you die. Yadda, yadda, yadda, love Mister Shira. Has his return phone number and everything." Sparky looked at Mike. "You made a lot of friends when you got out of the joint, didn't you?"

"Good job. Let's go." Bubba said. Mike began to sound like he was laughing and crying at the same time. Bubba set him down on the toilet. Emily, Bubba and Sparky regrouped outside the apartment and squeezed in the van. As soon as they pulled off, Emily started to fidget and tap her foot impatiently.

            "What's the matter with you?" Sparky asked white driving.

            "Nothing. Just want to find out where Felix is."

            "Who?" Sparky asked, looking at Emily strangely.

            "No, I meant Fletch." Emily said. "Slip of the tongue."

            "Right." Bubba moaned. "So what do we do now?"

            "I figure since we have a phone number, we should make our way in through the Matrix and find Fletch's precise location. Then we can better plan his extraction." Sparky explained.

            "Sounds solid." Bubba commented. Sparky got his phone out and handed it to Emily, who was riding shotgun.

            "Find out about that phone number, Em. See if it belongs to a company and look for public grids and the like." Sparky said. Emily plugged the phone into her head and looked up information on the phone number they found at Mike's apartment. They arrived home, gave Baby a pack of Cobalt's to open the door and went inside. Bubba went into his bedroom and brought out different appliances and metal boxes.

            "Okay, Circumstance. Explain." Sparky said. He sat on the floor, a cyberdeck across his lab. A pair of wires from deep inside his tower of hair connected to the side of the deck.

            "The company this phone number belongs to is Yakuza. But he isn't connected to the actual Yak grid. He's on his own little private grid." Emily said, sitting across from Sparky. She plugged a wire into one the sockets on her head and tossed the other end to Sparky. He plugged it into his deck.

            "Here's the info I found at the county assay office gave me on the warehouses and it's security measures." Emily said.  Sparky closed his eyes.

            "Jesus!" Sparky exclaimed. "He must have stole most of this junk from the main office!" He opened his eyes. "This is some dangerous shit."

            "We ought to be okay."

            "The instant the warning buzzer goes off I'm outta there, girl. Ain't gonna get my hoop lit up over nobody, especially someone the Yakuza snatched."

            "You whine too much." Bubba grunted, dropping an oscilloscope on the floor next to Emily. He plugged the machines and appliances into an extension cord and connected the all with a few wires. He took one and handed it to Emily. She plugged it into yet another socket into her head; now three wires hung from her temple. She plugged one last wire into the final socket in her head.

            "I'm good on this end, big guy." Emily said. Bubba tuned the dials on the oscilloscope until a pair of heartbeats blipped across the green screen. The bottom one pulsed by at a fairly slow rate. The top one was double the lower one's rate.

            "A little nervous, dear?" Bubba asked.

            "Excited, actually." Emily said. She scratched her temple around the wires. "Ready?"

            "Give me a second." Bubba said, tuning a knob on another black box. "We have a trid satellite floating overhead. We should try to snag it."

            "Just hurry up, please." Emily said.

            "Yes dear." Bubba groaned. "Okay, cool. That should give us a few extra seconds. Anytime guys."

            "Excellent." Emily said. She closed her eyes and shot out of the neon torpedo tube into the residual green glow of the Matrix once again. She looked around her. Beside her was Sparky, his persona sculpted to Mr. T. Emily smiled.

            "Still pitying the fools, Spark?" Emily asked. Sparky repeated a sound file of Mr. T saying "I pity da fool" a couple times, his face and mouth following along.

            "You have a new costume, but your taste in genres stays the same. Which anime femme fatale is that?" Sparky asked, playing with the numerous gold chains around his neck. Emily looked down at her hands in crimson gloves with black palms.

            "I've got it on a cycle. This one is Asuka from Evangelion." Emily tossed back her persona's long red hair.

            "She suits you. The new series?"

            "No way. Forget that recycled garbage. The original is still the best." Emily said. "Let's do this."

            "Yeah, enough of tha jibba-jabba. I wanna launch some IC inta space!" Mr. T exclaimed, shaking his fist in the air. "Yo, get us down to RTG 8818, befo' I whoop yo ass!" A blue van appeared around the two with Sparky in the drivers seat. A second later, the doors opened. "RTG 8818" scrolled across the windshield. Emily and Sparky exited the vehicle into a busy thoroughfare of Matrix users. Emily reached for her head and pulled from her temple the scroll she stuck there before. She opened it up, and instead of text and codes, a big red arrow pointed straight ahead.

            "The warehouses, right?" Sparky asked.

            "Uh, yeah." Emily replied. She squeezed the scroll back into her head and the two proceeded to a small blue block. A neon sign blazed "Shira Properties, Inc. Public Information". They walked inside and saw nothing more than a counter and a man in a black suit. When they entered, it bowed deeply.

            "Welcome to Shira-Micheals Properties, Inc. I am an information persona to provide you service. Please do not ask me any questions that do not apply directly to Shira-Micheals Properties, Inc. How may I help you…" The information persona paused a split second. "this morning?"

            "How 'bout you jump over dis counter and suck my snake?" Sparky growled at the animated figure. The man in the black suit turned to Sparky.

            "Please refrain from using profanity. Your question must refer to a valid business inquiry." The man said, his face like stone.

            "Identify helper-persona." Emily said. The man turned to Emily and stepped forward.

            "I am 'James', version 7.8, HelperBot, Inc. Shall I list a menu of options for you, madam?"

            "No thank you." Emily said. "Please allow my associate and I to converse in private." The man nodded.

            "The recorder is switched off. You may now converse in privacy." The man said. Emily turned to Mr. T.

            "How's your spoof program?" Emily asked.

            "Shit, I bought the brand new Triple-P package two weeks ago. I'll have this guy milking a cow." Mr. T said. "Yo, James!" The man turned back to Sparky. "Switch whoever the hell your last boss was to us." James stood silent for a moment.

            "James is now in the service of users Circumstance and Sparky." James announced.

            "Good. Get me the records of this conversation." Emily said. James reached into the air and pointed. A box appeared with the conversation between Emily, Sparky and James. Included toward the bottom, after James claimed the recorder was turned off, were lines of text of Emily asking Sparky about his spoof program.

            "See? They always say they turn it off." Emily said. She went to the hip of Asuka's red body suit, opened a pocket that wasn't there and removed her gigantic gun. She blasted the window, deleting it.

            "James, list System Access Nodes for us." Emily said.

            "None exist at this node, madam." James said.

            "Analyze slave subsystem." Emily said. From her hip pocket, she produced a magnifying glass. Through it, in the floor behind the counter, she saw the trap door that connected Yoshi's small office to the Matrix.

            "God, this guy thinks he's some hot shit, doesn't he?" Sparky said, looking down at the trap door. "Thinks he has to use everything he borrowed from the main office." Emily raised the gun at James and fired. The construct of James exploded into blood and gore and splattered all over the wall. The mess slowly faded away.

            "Excellent." Sparky said. "Let's crash this joint and get inside. Wanna do it?"

            "Naw, you." Emily said. Behind Sparky, a man smoking a cigar and wearing gloves stepped out, holding a bundle of dynamite.

            "I'll take care of this." He said though his teeth, tightly clinching the cigar. Emily and Sparky logged off. The man lit the bundle off of his cigar and crashed the public information grid.

"What was up with that?" Sparky asked Emily in the real world. "Not even so much as a second level probe. This guy broke or something?"

            "I dunno. Maybe he's just stupid. Or he's trying to get us in and blow our decks out of service." Emily replied.

            "Ain't that bad. Hell, that's where I got my name. My board looked like a fireworks show. Bam!"

            "If a fireworks show goes off in my deck, my brain is as good as beef stew." Emily said. She scratched her head. "Okay, let's do this." Emily and Sparky re-entered through the trap door they found. Just as they expected, they found themselves in a field next to a walled city. However, when she looked at Sparky, she didn't see the persona she expected; a peasant from some ancient Japanese dynasty. She saw Mr. T.

            "You're still Mr. T." Emily said.

            "And you're that anime chick. What the hell?" Sparky asked. "This guy know what's up with his grid or not?"

            "I dunno. Something's messed up." Emily said. Sparky and Emily approached the walled city. Again to their dismay, the entrance was not guarded, nor even gated.

            "Okay, dammit." Sparky growled. "What is this? Emily reached behind her back and pulled a very nasty looking machine gun from thin air.

            "As far as I can guess, they cleaned everything out to make room for some hellish ice." Emily said, looking around. "Get ready." Sparky and Emily proceeded into the walled city slowly. When the crossed the threshold, the field outside disappeared. A gigantic pagoda stood in the middle of a small courtyard.

            "God, look at this. It's disgusting." Emily sneered. "This guy just stole shit and plugged it in. Didn't even configure it."

            "I hope so. This is making me nervous." Sparky replied. "See anything yet?"

            "Nope. I'm sure we will inside." Emily said. They approached the ornately decorated door. Sparky kicked it open. Suddenly, an orange robed Shaolin monk jumped at Sparky and kicked Mr. T in the face. Mr. T slid back and hit the wall. Asuka lowered her gun and sprayed at the monk. The monk deftly dodged each bullet, slowly approaching Asuka. He jumped and hit Asuka with a spinning roundhouse. She also hit the dirt and slid back a few feet. The monk was about to stomp Asuka when Mr. T grabbed him from behind and held him in a half nelson. Asuka unloaded into the monk. His body spasmodically jerked, B-movie style. When Asuka was sure the monk posed no more threat, she stopped firing and Mr. T launched it into the stratosphere of the Matrix.

            "Son of a bitch! What the hell was that?" Mr. T screamed.

            "Far as I figure? Blaster-12." Asuka said, standing up.

            "Twelve?" Mr. T asked in disbelief. "Can they do that?"

            "They just did." Asuka said. She tossed her gun off to the side and pulled out a gun that a person of Asuka's size could not possibly hope to wield efficiently.

            "Forget this." Mr. T growled. "There's no way…"

            "Sparky! We just did! We… I need you!" Asuka pleaded. Mr. T sighed.

            "Yeah, yeah. Fine. Let's get this shit over with." They walked into the inside. The main hall was very plain. The design was pulled from twenty year old constructs. The colors were flat and polygons were easily visible.

            "Yesterday's house, tomorrow's security system." Sparky said quietly to himself. Asuka removed a pair of binoculars and began to look the house over for the security cameras. Suddenly, another Shaolin monk appeared from nowhere and punched Asuka in the head. She dropped her binoculars and her gun as she reeled from the blow. Mr. T ran up and boxed him. Each blow Mr. T landed knocked the ice back a few steps. Soon the ice flickered and disappeared. Before he could react and adjust, another orange robed countermeasure jumped out from the wall and kicked Mr. T squarely in the stomach. Mr. T's image dropped, flickered and blinked out. Asuka went for her gun and sprayed bullets in the monk's direction. Enough of them hit the monk to kill it.

            "Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Sparky exclaimed. When his construct of Mr. T crashed, he jumped back into the real world. He awoke to find the deck on his lap sparking and smoking. He yanked the cords out of his head and stood up, knocking the board to the floor. The deck caught fire. Bubba jumped over, took off his jacket and smothered the deck.

            "Fuck that. If a guy wants to load his shit up with ice, I ain't gonna have any part in it." Sparky leaned over to see a monitor of what Emily was seeing. He took a pair of headphones off the floor, put them on and lowered the microphone

            "Yo, get your ass out of there." Sparky said. "No point to all this."

            "If I don't find Fletch, he's going to be killed." Emily exclaimed. She picked up her gun off the ground.

            "What the hell good is it going to do if you get geeked along with him!" Sparky exclaimed.

            "Don't get in my way then." Emily said. She cut off the video feed. Sparky tore off the headphones.

            "Fuck! Goddammit, girl!" Sparky screamed. He looked at Bubba standing a few feet away with his arms crossed. "What the hell we gonna do?" Bubba shrugged his shoulders.

            "We let her work. She'll kick our ass if we get in the way." Bubba answered.

"Condition monitor." Emily said. A box appeared with a map of the cyberdeck packed inside her head. Various areas of the map blinked in various colors. A couple large areas blinked rapidly in red.

            "Okay, I can do this." Emily reassured herself. She let the gun drop and disappear. "Locate slave. Where the hell are the security cameras?" A disembodied hand appeared, pointing down a newly appeared hallway, then disappeared. She reached behind her back again, only this time arming herself with an army surplus flame-thrower. She started slowly down the hallway, closely examining the untextured walls. The simplicity of the obsolete structure made Emily uneasy. Combined with the cutting edge intrusion countermeasures, Emily couldn't distinguish between what might be a threat and what would be harmless. She continued as the flickering flame at the end of the nozzle lit her way.

            "I still don't get it." Sparky said. He took another drag off of a blue cigarette. "What could you possibly hope to accomplish by packing nothing but ice in your grid? And, the Steve Dallas program is the hottest shit out there! How were we spotted?"

            "My opinion?" Bubba asked, still leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

            "Yeah, your opinion." Sparky replied.

            "That stuff is engaging every user that logs in. There's no such thing as legitimacy in there."

            "Why?"

            "Doesn't want to run the risk of anything getting inside." Bubba said. "The sysop is guarding something awfully damaging to his career." Bubba shrugged his shoulders. "Or it's some nine year old protecting his fort." He looked over to Emily, still sitting cross-legged in the middle of all the appliances on the floor. "She's gonna run into killjoy, and I bet the sysop has a hammer."

            "You'd better watch that monitor close and pull her ass outta there if there is." Sparky said. "I won't let her be number thirteen." Bubba smiled.

            "I lose either way. If she isn't, Fletch is."

            "Locate slave. Security camera." Emily said for the ninth time. Again the disembodied hand popped in front of her, pointed down the seemingly endless hallway, and disappeared. She sighed. The giant flame-throwing attack program was slowing her search, but she didn't want to get knocked offline like Sparky was before. She stopped to rest for a second. She looked behind her. Five feet behind her, a smooth wall closed off the hallway behind her. She wouldn't be able to go out the way she came.

            "Damn!" Emily growled. "Display active memory contents." A box popped up displaying the programs she was currently running. She scrolled through them and unloaded all the armor programs she was running.

            "Hope this isn't suicide." Emily thought. She started down the hallway again. Now she was able to run. After a few seconds, she saw a figure in the middle of the corridor. She knew it was ice waiting for her, eager as ever now that she was unprotected. She continued to run. As soon as she was able to see it clearly, she unleashed the fuel of the flame-thrower, totally engulfing the waiting samurai and the entire hall. She ran through unscathed.

            "What was that?" Emily shouted. A box popped up, identifying the ice as Killjoy-12. She continued. Every few seconds, she'd encounter another waiting samurai. She blazed through them with her custom-made attack program, crashing each one before it had a chance to attack back. Suddenly, she screeched to a halt, totally surprised. She came to the end of the hallway, running into a gigantic room, hundreds of feet high and wide. A tremendous cylinder, with it's seamless wall lined with bright surveillance monitors. From the walls came five samurai, each armed with a katana of pure light. They cast tall, thin shadows against the video walls of the chamber. Emily looked behind her to see the hallway blink into nothingness.

            "Identify!" Emily commanded as she waved the flame-thrower back and forth in front of her, spraying white-hot napalm all over the chamber. A box appeared, listing Killjoy-16 five times. One dove toward her. Emily swung the nozzle and sprayed it in mid-air. The samurai disappeared in an explosion of fire and light. Two others did the same. As she intercepted one, the other landed next to her and plunged the katana of light into the tank on her back. The tank exploded, crashing Emily's program and blasting her clear across the chamber. Before she landed, she twisted and landed on her feet, facing the remaining enemies. She backed to the wall, reaching for another attack program. The three samurai approached slowly, their swords making it harder and harder to see them as they came closer. As soon as Emily readied one of her previous machine guns, the ice vanished. The box that identified the countermeasures emptied and now listed NO DETECTION.

            Emily looked around, still holding her gun close. The walls of monitors cast flickering shadows on the floor and around her.

            "Eliminate idle displays and white noise." Emily shouted at nothing in the room. Over half of the monitors blinked into blackness.

            "Eliminate perimeter displays." Another half disappeared. Emily floated from the floor of the chamber and began to glance over the remaining monitors. As she did, a new shadow appeared. She paid no attention, too busy with her search and thinking it was own. She gave it her undivided attention when she was struck by it. She spun wildly and crashed into the floor. Her gun was nowhere to be found.

            "Identify!" Emily screamed in terror. A box popped up, listing USER: ANONYMOUS.

            "Christ!" Sparky exclaimed. "What the hell was that?" He tossed his lit cigarette into the kitchen and kneeled down next to the oscilloscope. Emily's pulse jumped all over the screen, then steadied out into rapid beats. Bubba rushed to one of the boxes on the floor, flicked a switch and picked up the headphones.

            "What's happening, dear?" Bubba asked. He flicked another switch. A monitor turned on, displaying Emily's deck. The entire deck flashed rapidly in red.

            "Clear memory. Load B&D Five-K." Bubba heard Emily command through the headphones. A box opened over the red blinking deck and displayed Emily's new program.

            "Don't you dare! Emily!" Bubba shouted into the microphone. "Get out of there!"

            "No!" Emily shouted back. She held an exaggeratedly huge black claw hammer in her red hands, the clawed end poised to strike. Above, a shadow descended, shaped as a gigantic samurai, wielding a katana that also seemed to be made of shadows. The shadow suddenly dove at Emily, bringing the katana down. Emily rolled out of the way and struck the shadow in the stomach with the claw. The shadow swung again, striking Asuka in the leg. In the apartment, blood ran down the cords connecting Emily to the Matrix.

            "I'm pulling you out!" Bubba exclaimed. He reached for the wet cords. When he had them, Emily seized his wrist and held it firmly with a grip that startled Bubba. She opened her eyes and looked at Bubba.

            "No…" She whispered. Suddenly, she let go and twisted in pain. She found herself against the wall, her claw hammer in her lap, and the shadow standing over her.

            "I am lord and master of this domain!" The shadow bellowed from a formless mouth. It's voice echoed through the chamber. "Trespassers will be destroyed!" Emily scrambled to the opposite side of the chamber.

            "What are you hiding?" Emily asked, holding the hammer out in front of her. The shadow dove for her again. She ducked under it and struck it as it passed over. The shadow again struck her as well.

            "I hide nothing! You are doomed looking for it!" The shadow bellowed. Emily backed slowly to the wall.  Through the shadow, she could see one monitor shining through. It was a man tied to a chair, dressed in a dark gray suit.

            "Felix…" Emily whispered, dropping her guard. The shadow flowed forward and ran Emily through the stomach with the shadowy katana.

            "God! She just flat-lined!" Sparky screamed. Emily's body sat straight and still. The only movement came from the drops of blood falling from the cords.

            "There's still brain activity! She's got a chance!" Bubba bellowed back.

            The shadow lifted the lifeless crimson corpse of the young redheaded girl into the air, speared on the katana. It pulled her close to it's dark face.

            "So pretty. So delicate…" The shadow whispered. Her body sprung to life. Her eyes opened wide and her body arched backwards, raising the hammer high. The oscilloscope danced again with her heartbeat.

            "So long." Emily whispered. She struck the shadow in the face with the head of the hammer, shattering it into thousand pieces of dark glass. She dropped and struck the floor, but jumped up and ran for the wall. She saw Felix. She ran her hand over the image.

            "Copy location of slave. Display on all terminals. Loop." She whispered. A box popped up over the monitor. ESTIMATED HOST SHUTDOWN: 0:05… 0:04… 0:03…

            Then the chamber disappeared.