"Flowers, for me?" Togusa sat up as best as he could and grinned. Borma inclined his head and returned the grin with an unmistakable look whilst he put the bouquet in a vase on Togusa's bed side table. "What's the occasion?"

"Oh stow it," Borma muttered, pulling up a chair. At least, he thought, Togusa was in good spirits. The bandages around his chest were clean and there was no evidence of bleeding in them but the drip connected to his arm reminded anyone who looked that Togusa was not a well man. "They're from some mutual friends."

'There's an encryption coded cyber-brain relay planted in them,' Borma continued, 'Section 9's encryption naturally. It'll let me keep an eye on you right out from under the Section 7 goons at your door.'

"I appreciate the thought." Borma nodded with a smile. "What brings you to visit then?"

"My turn?" Borma shrugged. "Everyone else was busy. Saito feels just awful about you being in here too. I guess he's got a better idea than most how bad that," he gestured to Togusa's chest, "must have hurt. I guess he also feels a bit more responsible too."

"Really?" Togusa shifted, almost managing to disguise the wince. "No need."

'We all knew that was a risky operation, Borma. It's not the first time I've been shot on duty either. I admit, though, I'm getting pretty sick of it. Perhaps it is time I went full cyber.'

'I don't know, didn't the Major hire you in precisely because you weren't? To give us a mix-up of operatives?' They chatted inconsequentially aloud for the benefit of the Section 7 eavesdroppers whilst they continued to talk.

'You're right. Just, why is it always me getting shot up?'

'You?' Borma's eyebrows raised and he couldn't help but smile. 'Did you even see what was left of the Major's last body? No, you're not the only one getting shot up, Togusa, you're just the only one who feels it.'

'OK so no cyberization for the token human, I get it, but maybe I should learn to snipe and stay out of harm's way like Saito?' There was humour in his voice but Togusa really was developing concerns about his role in Section 9. 'How'd we do after it hit the fan anyway?'

Grateful for the change of topic Borma leapt into the debrief. 'Not great. We lost Hamada and the Americans at the scene. The Major and Batou chased down a car and got the driver but he was just a puppet. That means we don't know who did the hacking on our guys either.'

Borma leant back in his chair, his cyberized weight testing its durability. 'The Major and Batou should be back at the warehouse right now checking it out. Saito and Ishikawa are looking into the puppet. If he was hacked by the same guy or group that got us we might get something from him.'

Togusa straightened. 'Oh hell, I didn't tell anyone at the time!'

'Tell us what?'

'I got a couple of shots off before I was hit. The first was a tracker round. I got it in the American's cyborg buddy.'

'Some good news!' Borma sat straight and glanced slightly to the side. 'Major?'

'I was listening, Borma.' The Major's voice entered into the silent conversation easily. 'Well,' she went on in a note of explanation, 'I'm allowed to be worried about Togusa as well aren't I?'

-

"What is it?" Batou always recognised when the Major was off diving. It was the far away look in those red eyes that she refused to close. "Your ghost whispering?" He flicked his cigarette to the ground and pushed off the door jam. The warehouse had been a bust so far. Apparently someone had got there before them and done a good clean up job.

Motoko turned to face him with a smile. "No, just a break. Togusa put a tracker round in our cyborg friend in the fire fight. Seems he's just seen fit to let us know."

"Well well, good for him." Batou shrugged his shoulders, leaning his arms back as if to stretch. "I don't suppose it's still in range?"

"As a matter of fact I just picked it up." She took one last look around the plain brick-walled room and it's rusted half-fallen shelving. "If I'm reading this right the signals coming from a hotel's underground parking facility. It sure beats this place, right?"

"Then why are we still here, Major?" The big cyborg grinned like a mischievous child. "I'll get the car."

-

"Not a damn thing." Ishikawa pushed the well worn office chair back from the dead puppet's terminal. The apartment was a small one, fairly typical of the industrial district's residential fringes. Laundry that hadn't been washed in days, at best, was liberally strewn over furniture that had been cheap and sub-par when it was bought. Now it was a liability. Saito looked up from his journey through the man's cupboards with a soft noise of enquiry. "Personal messages, a history of hitting sites about baseball and some rather disturbing adult pursuits but not a thing that would hint at any criminal involvement."

Ishikawa ran his palm over his beard as he studied the blanked screen, shaking his head. "Poor bastard never had a thing to do with it, probably never knew. How're you doing?"

"Well he was armed," Saito said, holding an electronic pistol out by it's trigger guard. It was a cheap mass-production self defence weapon. Cheap but effective. It would send a natural heart into violent palpitations and cause serious control issues for civilian grade prosthetics but it wasn't the weapon of choice for armed criminals. "That is, if you can call this thing 'armed'. Self defence more than likely. If he liked Baseball maybe he was worried about rough fans?"

Ishikawa laughed a rather mirthless laugh. "In other words what we have here is an average guy with an average life. Damn it, we're Section 9, average isn't meant to enter into it."

"He's also dead. Say what you want but the ghost hacks died when he did. Even if he didn't do it and I do believe you that he couldn't have, he was involved." Saito tossed the gun back into the cupboard he'd got it from to rest back on a pile of crumpled baseball jerseys. "That means he stands out at least a little."

The older man grunted his agreement with a bob of the head. "What'd the landlord have to say?"

"Never missed his rent, no complaints, no regular visitors." Saito grinned. "So 'normal' I was expecting us to find evidence he was a serial killer in here."

"Well he was a grounds-man at the local stadium. I guess that's our next stop. I'll let the chief know we're moving on." Ishikawa opened a call to Section 9.

'Chief, Ishikawa here.'

'Ishikawa, good. How are you and Saito doing?' The chief, Ishikawa noted thankfully, was back to his old self. Gruff and impatient but no longer worried or angry.

'I wish I had better news,' and given the chief's recent return to mood Ishikawa really meant it, 'but we haven't found a thing. His home life was as normal as it could be. We're going to check out the stadium where he worked now.'

'No,' Ishikawa looked to Saito confused, 'send Saito by all means but I want you back here, Ishikawa. I just got the clearance to open up Section 7's private databases for our inspection and I want you on it.'

"Well that's over due." Saito commented with a smile.

"No kidding," Ishikawa mused, "I wonder how the chief scored that one."

"Ours is not to reason why," Saito shrugged, "especially where the chief's back room talents are concerned. Now just go get us a lead. I can cope on my own you know."