Hello again! Thanks for reading! I do have to warn you before I start this chapter. If you haven't read A Different Scenario, you should read it before this story to avoid confusion. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! R&R!

The number, it turned out, was a CPA by the name of Don Rezniczek. He was a somewhat scrawny middle aged man with a graying brunette hairline receding faster than Napolean's army at Waterloo, and he was boring.

Shaw had been following this man for the better part of the day and the only thing of note she had observed as he ran various errands was that he dressed far fancier than any accountant she'd ever laid eyes on. His Italian business suit stuck out like a sore thumb against the middle-class wage of his occupation. It left Shaw to wonder how exactly he could afford such a nice wardrobe. The answer to that might just be why his number had come up.

After starting her reconnaissance in the financial district, and then meandering through midtown, Shaw recognized that Mr. Rezniczek was leading her toward Brighton Beach. In the absence of any other possibilities gleaned from the day's work, she began to wonder if maybe this man wasn't asking to be mugged by heading into such a shady neighborhood in a nice coat.

"Is everything all right, Miss Shaw?" Harold's voice sounded in her right ear, effectively cutting into her train of thought. "Just checking in."

"Unfortunately," Shaw sighed, "This guy's about as boring as watching a coma."

"I wouldn't be dismissive of any danger just yet. I took the liberty of going through his files. There are a number of red flags….Miss Shaw?"

On her end, Shaw had a death grip on a would-be pick pocketer's wrist and held it in a submission hold as she spoke to him in her low, threatening tone. All the while she kept an eye on her objective.

"You picked the wrong person. I'll give you five seconds to go away and we both pretend this didn't happen." The man's fearful expression told her that he would comply and she released him. As soon as he was let go, the street urchin ran off in the direction he came from.

"Ms. Shaw, is everything all right?" Came Harold's worried voice as he listened to the scuffle. Once the man was gone, Shaw resumed following her mark and answered Finch.

"Sorry about that. You were saying something about red flags? Anything in those red flags that might explain an accountant wearing an expensive Italian suit? Either this man's making some serious side money or he's Donald Trump's accountant."

"Yes, actually." Harold spoke as he sat at his desk looking over the files he'd collected.

"It seems our Mr. Rezniczek had two million dollars transferred into his account one week ago from an as yet undisclosed offshore account."

As he said this, Shaw realized that the number was walking up to a group of mafia men. This couldn't be good, but she still decided to wait just a bit longer to see where they went. Her hand had made its way to the gun inside the pocket of her coat and she flicked the safety off just in case what happened in the next few moments called for it.

The group in front of her crossed the street and made their way to a Russian bakery. Not just any Russian bakery, but one that the team had at one point learned operated as a front for illegal gambling.

This should be interesting.

"Hey Harold…I'm gonna have to talk to you later. I'll be busy playing some poker."

Harold's brow raised, intrigued at her statement. Satisfied that the situation was under control for the moment, he signed off as well.

"Enjoy yourself, Miss Shaw."

Shaw made her way up to the bakery and pretended to window shop for a couple minutes. Once she was satisfied that Don was not in any present danger, she took some cash out of the nearby ATM and snuck around the back.

She took a moment to take her beanie off and pull her hair out and toss it a bit then she knocked on the door and put on the sexiest smile she could manage. When one of the Russians answered the door and looked at her with a somewhat befuddled expression, wondering what an outsider was doing out here, she offered him the best bedroom voice that she could manage.

"Any room for one more?"

The man's face lit up with a grin that Shaw could only describe as predatory as he quickly moved aside and ushered her into the back room. When she entered, Shaw found that the air was already thick with cigars and booze, and the lighting was dim as well. Looking around, she noticed that the one seat left open was conveniently located next to Mr. Rezniczek. With a confident smirk, Shaw headed straight for the empty seat.

Perfect.

"Hello, Harold." Root greeted, coming to stand behind him. With little regard for Finch's personal space, the hacker leaned over his shoulder to see what was on his monitor. It appeared to be code of some sort. Specifically, Her code. No doubt Harold had been pondering the workings of his creation again; wondering how she could've evolved enough to be able to keep her own secrets from them, and no doubt Shaw was the instigator of this latest bout of questioning. Speaking of…

Root looked around curiously. Noticing that Harold's only other company was Bear, who was currently asleep in his dog bed.

"Where is everyone?"

Finch looked up for the first time from the paper work scattered across his desk from his cover job.

"I'm afraid it's just been me for the afternoon. Mr. Reese stepped out some time ago to attend to personal business, and Miss Shaw is working on a number."

A brief look of nervousness flashed across Root's face. Since Samaritan's server had been deactivated, The Machine could no longer detect threats from its operatives as keenly as it once could. This was compounded by the fact that the remaining operatives were using pure intellectual strategy to lay their traps. As it was, The Machine's system for selecting numbers could not differentiate between legitimate persons of interest and potential threats until the threat revealed itself.

A moment after she felt the fear spike within her, it subsided. Sameen was a big girl. She could handle herself against a little trap. That much, Root knew, but the incident at the stock exchange had marked both of them. Root was left with a healthy fear of losing Shaw, Shaw had developed a resentment toward The Machine, and the team as a whole was left to wonder what this revelation about The Machine's methods and other existing agents meant for their little operation and for The Machine's agenda.

Harold seemed to have detected Root's worry and was quick to assure her.

"Not to worry, Miss Groves. This appears to be a legitimate number."

She nodded, coming to sit next to Harold. Bear slowly woke from his slumber and perked up when he realized her presence. He came to sit at her feet with his tail wagging and she gladly stroked his fur. The two of them had developed a mutual fondness for each other that seemed to be centered on the fact that they were both fond of Shaw.

"So, I see you're looking over Her code, again." Root spoke casually as she continued to pet the dog.

Finch nodded solemnly, "I just don't understand it."

Root didn't know if he meant Her, The Machine's actions, or everything they went through leading up to and following Samaritan's defeat. Still, she listened.

"I can understand why the machine would keep its plans secret. It made tactical sense to do so in order to keep Samaritan from discovering the plan and taking measures to protect itself."

This was something Root hadn't thought much about; she had been more concerned with The Machine sacrificing one of its assets. Still, now that she was thinking about it, it did make sense.

"But…?" She asked, sensing that there was more on Finch's mind.

"I don't understand why it apparently sacrificed Miss Shaw." He sighed. "Twelve years ago, I sat in Central Park teaching the machine how to play chess. 'Don't assign people different values.' That was the last thing I attempted to teach her on that day. It appears, however, that the machine did exactly that at the stock exchange."

Root cracked a half smile, finding a sad bit of humor in the whole situation. "I look to her as a God, you think of her as your child; but at the end of the day, Harold, she's an AI. You were able to teach Her about chess because the capacity for learning strategies is part of her programming, and placing higher value on some people than on others is an inherent aspect of strategy."

Harold, who had been cleaning up his desk, nodded at the hackers words.

"Yes, that's true, but I had hoped she could still learn to value people as a human."

"For what it's worth, I don't believe she sacrificed Sameen." Root stated, hoping to cheer Finch up a bit. He wasn't exactly fun to be around when he got mopey.

"Out of all of us, she had the highest chance of survival. I know you don't think much of my blind devotion to The Machine, but to me, the fact that she chose the person with the best chance shows that maybe she does care." At seeing the look in Finch's eyes like he was ready to argue her point, she added, "Why else would She have sent agents to the stock exchange just to rescue Sameen?"

Harold looked as if he were considering her words carefully for the next few moments. She did make a good point. The machine had taken measures to ensure that the team survived the stock exchange and the raid on Samaritan's warehouse. However, it did so at cost to many other agents; that still stuck in Harold's mind. No matter how logical the choice seemed, he could not shake the sense of apprehension that the machine's willingness to sacrifice its agents and the apparent prioritizing of his team caused him.

"Need I remind you, Miss Groves that those same agents were among several that died so that the five of us could get out of the warehouse alive?"

Root had a retort on her tongue, but apparently, The Machine had had enough of listening quietly to their conversation. Much like it did when it informed them of Shaw's fate; the machine began to pull up various clips of Finch: Finch in the park playing chess, Finch looking at a security camera speaking, Finch walking down the street. Again, the text box appeared, delivering the only solace the machine could provide its creator.

I AM SORRY.

Shaw sat at the poker table scanning the rest of the group with a critical eye. She wasn't just concerned with the current game; she was also trying to discern who at the table would be the likeliest possible threat in the event that this game went sideways.

The man sitting across from her stuck out the most. He exuded an air of authority. That meant he was in charge of this group. Shaw reasoned that he was most likely packing a weapon, but would be more likely to sit back and watch his lackies take a crack at anyone before he stepped in himself. That left the other three people. There was the man who had permitted her into the room. Sure, he was tall, bulky, and imposing. In the short time she'd been around him, however, Shaw sensed a certain incompetence from the man. That left the other two. Of them, one man was laid back and appeared thoroughly disinterested in anyone sitting at the table as he kept his face shoved behind his cards. The other man was tense and seemed perpetually agitated. He had already snapped at a few jokes from his buddies twice since Shaw had sat down. This man would likely be her first threat.

On the poker side of things, Shaw watched to see who of these men thought they had a good hand. She hadn't faired particularly well herself up to this point, but that was partially by design.

She looked down at her own cards once more. It was shaping up to be a nice hand this round with a king, a queen, and a jack. Still, she folded when her turn came moments later. She wasn't ready to draw too much attention to herself yet.

Discreetly leaning over to her left, Shaw called, "Hey, Don isn't it?"

The man jumped just slightly and looked at her with surprise, possibly wondering how she knew his name.

"I've seen a couple of your ads." She whispered, "So listen, how about a drink after this game?" She gave him her best "come hither" look, a look that always took considerable effort for Shaw. His reaction was not one she'd expected, but was interesting nonetheless.

"I'm married." He whispered rather dismissively.

Shaw's eyes flitted to his left ring finger. No ring. She thought back to his profile; there was nothing about a wife there either. He was lying, but why? Perhaps he was already aware of a target on his back. If so, his casual manner during her surveillance hid it well, and his willingness to carouse with the mafia suggested that he did not expect a threat from him.

Shaw pressed harder.

"Oh, come on, big guy." She winked, "I don't see a ring. Plus, you seem like the kind of guy who likes a little adventure." She tilted her head to indicate the table full of Italian mob members. Don looked at her, then back to the table, and somewhat reluctantly agreed. Then the hand was over and it was Shaw's turn to deal.

"Hey sweetie." Root's flirty voice sounded in Shaw's right ear, causing her posture to stiffen slightly as she held the deck of cards in her hand. So much for not drawing attention to herself.

"Root." She said, doing her best to disguise the word as a sneeze.

On her end, Root chuckled. "Oh, subtle. So how's it hanging?"

In response, Shaw finished shuffling the cards and addressed the table; emphasizing the first word just slightly enough that Root would know it was directed at her.

"Okay, boys. How about a little Texas Hold 'Em?" She smiled her own flirtatious smile at the table, knowing Root would have something to say about her game of choice. She wasn't disappointed.

"Now that's a card game." Root chimed. In fact, it was the only poker game she really knew. One doesn't grow up in Texas without knowing at least that much.

The men were approving of Shaw's choice and she took the opportunity to subtly address the hacker on the other end of the comm once again.

"I thought you'd like it."

With the game underway, Shaw was freed up just slightly to be able to speak to Root without notice.

"Anyway, Sameen. I was calling to check up. It's a little lonely here with just Harold. I stopped and picked up some new toys today." Shaw blushed slightly at the meaning of her comment. Their toys were not the usual; they dabbled in whips, chains, and tazers. They were toys just the same, though.

"…was wondering when you'd be free?" The tail end of Root's sultry voice filtered into Shaw's mind and she realized that she must've zoned out after Root's previous comment. Luckily, it was not her turn in the game yet. In response, she smirked, hiding her mouth from view of the others behind her hand. She found in recent weeks with Root that she enjoyed playing the waiting game.

"Don't wait up."

That's two! Hope you enjoyed it! Remember, please review!