protocol_02.01: kernel panic

"What do you mean?" Anna hisses.

"I would think that's pretty damn obvious, don't you?"

"Yes. Which is why I'm wondering why we're running instead of kicking his ass." Why oh why did she wear heels to this? She's staring at Scratch, forcing herself to memorize every inch of him she can, from the streaks of grey at his temples to his far-too-shiny shoes. He's talking. It really doesn't matter what he's saying. Anna doesn't know if she's ever felt hate like this before. Because that's what this emotion has to be, right? Every fiber of her feels like all it wants to do is wrap her hands around his throat and squeeze. Until he chokes out where, where, where Elsa is.

"Because you can't win. Not here. Not right now." Elsa's voice is hard, unyielding as a glacier. "He's dangerous, Anna."

"He won't be expecting it right now," she growls.

"Anna. Anna, please." The words are soft and cold, a shard of ice running down her spine. And Anna's rage tempers, hot and glowing under the coals but no longer raging, not in the face of Elsa's begging. "You can't right now. It's not worth it."

"How can you say that, E-Rime?" she catches herself, breathing it out past fixed lips. "How can you say that about yourself?"

"Please, Anna. Please. Not now. There are things you don't know. Pick your battles, damn it." And Anna can imagine Elsa closing her eyes as her voice softens to a brittle sort of hardness. "You can't win here."

"Damn it," she breathes. "Give me a reason, Rime. Just one reason."

"The snipers on the roof. At least five bodyguards in the room. But more importantly, it's his territory. He owns this room right now, Anna. You don't even have your gear. Please, Anna. I can't lose you."

What can she say in the face of that? Damn it all to hell, there's nothing. Her fist hurts. She looks down and sees her knuckles are white, her nails digging into the flesh of her palm. She unclenches her hand, feels the blood rush back. The pain lingers. "I hate this."

"I know."

Scratch is still talking through this. His voice is too smooth, too...pleasant, it doesn't even matter what he's saying. Anna finally looks at the crowd, how they're eating all this up, the rich nitwits. It makes her sick. Not one of them knew her family, and they're listening to the man who destroyed it.

"Anna, you have to go."

Story of her life, isn't it? Even when she wants to, she can't face her problems head-on. No, it's always running, she's always running. But her sister is right; she can't do anything right now. However much it hurts to say that. She almost wishes Scratch would stare at her, see her as a ghost, of what he destroyed. Some day, Anna swears, she'll stare him in the eyes as she takes everything from him like he did her. But not today.

Something jostles her arm. She blinks, and there's Adze, leaning in close. "You all right there?"

Thank god for him. To anyone looking at them, it just looks like a concerned husband talking to his wife. Anna belatedly realizes he's been playing his part and covering her like this the entire time. Right, even more reasons why now isn't the right time. Adze at least deserves to know he might be signing on for a firefight before she commits to one.

So she plasters on a weak smile. It's not really acting. "Actually, can we get out of here?"

He blinks. He looks concerned, frowning slightly. "Everything all right?"

It's times like this she actually wishes she worked enough with other people to develop codephrases. "Not...sorry, I'm just not..."

Adze gets it enough. "Hey, it's okay. If you're not feeling well, you're not feeling well. Let's get out of here."

He puts an arm around her shoulders, a half-second hesitation before he does is the obvious apology that he's invading her space. But Eliot would do it, so Adze has to. She'd not mind it, not really, if it were another time, even though his arm is a solid weight against the storming sea of her emotions. It's an anchor, and she's not going to refuse it, not right now. Not when she still desperately wants nothing more than to turn around and end the man who ruined her family.

They turn around and leave while Scratch is still rhapsodizing about her father's stolen work. Adze's arm doesn't leave her shoulders, even as they weave through of the crowd.

They nearly make it to the main entrance hall when it happens. "Anna? Anna Arendelle?" Her step falters half a second before she keeps walking, and she knows Adze noticed, but maybe not whoever the hell this is. "Anna!"

Dammit.

"Anna...akjaloulaljo." She has to fight off a wince at the sound. Christ on a bicycle, what is Elsa doing, eating the damn microphone? Okay, understandably frantic.

There's nothing for it, then. She turns around, schooling her face into the most puzzled look she can. The speaker is a young woman, about her age, dressed in a server's uniform. She looks vaguely familiar. Anna thinks back, all faces of people who would have known her by that name. The face clicks. Second period, history, fifth row, third from the back. Tina? Talia? Tessa? No, probably Talia. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

Maybe-Talia falters. Thank you, Mama, for those lessons in confident body language. "I...I went to school with you."

Anna slowly shakes her head. "I'm sorry," she says again. "But I've never seen you before in my life. And my name is Sophia. Sophia Donovan."

Probably-Talia squints, opens her mouth, closes it, and then slumps. "I'm sorry, ma'am. You just looked like someone I knew. I guess the event made me remember her." She twists her fingers together nervously. "Might need some water if I'm seeing ghosts. Um. Sorry to bother you ma'am, sir. I...I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening." And then she hurries off.

Anna watches her go for a second. She hasn't thought about those people, the people who actually knew her, classmates and friends, in three years. She really didn't let herself; it seemed like too much of a rabbit hole of 'if's and 'maybe's. Questions about if they noticed, if they cared, if they mourned. Did any of them remember her, when she didn't let herself really remember them? Or where those friendships as permanent as a dream, wiped away in the morning, like they seemed those nights she spent alone before she left?

Apparently, at least one person remembers.

"At some point, you and I are going to have a Very Serious conversation about the concept of disguise," Elsa hisses.

"I'll pencil that in right after our discussion about what the actual fuck is going on tonight," she grits out.

Adze is looking even more worried, and right now, it's probably more legit worry than play-acting. They need to get out of here, before someone else recognizes her. Or tries to stop them, which would be worse, because if it turns into a fight, she's not going to be able to keep her promise to Elsa. So they need to get back to the undercity, and fast.

"Rime, if you've got a car lined up for us, that'd be great," she mutters under her breath.

"On its way. Should be there in three."

"Great."

Once they manage to push their way through the rest of the wing, it's actually pretty much a straight shot to the main entrance. Most of the attendees are still either listening to the asshole or doing the overly-rich social power game thing. Which basically means the front hall is empty except for staff. One of the security guards looks up as they approach.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Thanks, but we're just not feeling well," Adze grips her shoulder a little tighter. "You know how it is. Just going to head home for the night."

The guard blinks and then nods knowingly. What the? "Completely understandable. Do you need us to call someone?"

Adze waves him off. "No, I think our driver should be here any minute now," and of fucking course a black car pulls up to the front of the museum right at that moment. Anna could kiss Elsa for that, her and her goddamn perfect timing. "Ah, there it is. Have a good night!" he says, waving back to them as he leads her down the steps to the car.

They're silent on the way back to the station, and silent on the train back to the Middle City. Her gut's still twisted in knots, anger sitting there like smouldering coals. The glowing lights of the Upper City pierce her eyes as she stares out the window. The glass is cool against her forehead, and the hot versus the cold is probably a metaphor for something. She feels like she's being torn in two all over again, once more on the run down to the undercity, down back into the shadows away from the light. Despite how far she's already fallen, how far she'd already climbed, how far she's already run, she's still not good enough. There's still too much distance.

She wants them back. There's a part of her that wants Mama and Papa back, for it to be three years ago and her parents to be alive. She'd give so much just to hear Papa's laugh and feel Mama's hugs. But if it was three years ago, Elsa would still be dead, still gone without anyone knowing she wanted to be found. So really, she wants three years and another life ago, the one where her family was never shattered. Where she didn't have to bury their parents alone, where her sister wasn't lost in the dark, where she didn't have to watch her parents' legacy be turned into a mockery of itself.

Anna clenches her suddenly burning eyes shut. She will not cry, not here, not now. Pick yourself up and try again. Keep walking.

It isn't until they're safely in Adze's car that he finally breaks the silence. "Look, I know, well, I know it's not really any of my business, and you don't have to if you don't want to, I'd get it. I totally would. But...it'd kinda be nice to know some things." He's quiet when he says it, not looking at her, watching the road instead. It sounds like he's not going to judge, sounds like he means it.

And really, at this point? He does deserve it. But this is a step they haven't taken yet, to bring someone else in. "Rime?" she asks subvocally.

"It's up to you, Anna."

The weight of everything just feels so heavy on her shoulders right now. Maybe he's throwing her a rope. Hopefully, it's not to hang herself with. Anna closes her eyes and jumps off the cliff. "What do you want to know?"

He's quiet for a moment. "That girl, the one on the way out. She recognized you, didn't she?"

"Yeah," she breathes out. "She did. I went to school with her."

"Then..."

Anna nods, then rests her head against the car window. "Yeah. My name is Anna Arendelle. Yes, that Arendelle."

Adze sucks in a breath. "Okay. Wow. Okay then. Aren't you supposed to be missing?"

"Is that what the story is?"

"Uh, yeah. Wait, you don't know?"

She shrugs. "I wasn't exactly paying attention to the news those first few days. Kinda too busy trying not to end up dead in a gutter somewhere. And then I never bothered checking."

"Okay." He looks like he doesn't want to ask the next obvious question.

So she does it for him. "You want to know why I ended up down here."

Adze has the grace to look sheepish. "I was trying not to ask."

"No, it's...well, it's not fine, but it makes sense, I guess." She sighs. "I ran. Night of my parents' funeral."

It's quiet again for a long moment before he asks "Why?"

"I needed to. The news was wrong: my parents didn't die in an accident. They were murdered."

"And you thought whoever did it would come after you next." It's to his credit, really, that he doesn't question that it wasn't an accident, that he takes her at her word. It's crazy. "How'd you find out?"

"Rime told me. Well, she wasn't called Rime then, she went by Frost." Anna realizes she's in freefall here, there's no stopping this, and all she can hope for is that someone's on the ground ready to catch her.

Because Adze isn't stupid, because he's asking the right questions, and she owes him this. "How did...?"

"How did she know?" She turns away from the window to look at him. "They were looking for her when they were killed. Rime's my older sister."

Adze's head whips around to face her so fast, she's afraid he's going to lose control of the car or slam the breaks. He quickly looks back at the road, but he's now focused on her. "What? But the Arendelles..."

"There was a car accident when I was five. We thought Elsa...didn't survive. I remember the funeral." She doesn't even know how she's getting the words out, breathing life to the pain and grief all over again. Papa ripped up so many of his drawings in the weeks and months afterward. Mama barely worked, staying at home instead to watch her, although Anna would sometimes find her staring at nothing. Today must be a day for ripping open old wounds. "We thought she was dead."

"Anna..."

"It's all right, Elsa," she says so Adze can't hear. She takes a deep breath, and then plunges on louder. "But she wasn't. Someone had taken her, stolen her away."

"But she found you."

"Not...not exactly."

He frowns. "How is it 'not exactly'?"

"Elsa's somehow able to access the Net. But she can't leave wherever she is. She's trapped. She's been trapped, for the last thirteen years."

This time, Adze does slam on the breaks. Thankfully, the street they're on is completely devoid of traffic as he stares at her. "Thirteen years?"

Anna slouches in the car seat, suddenly exhausted. "Yeah. That's why no one sees Rime. They can't."

He works his jaw a few times. "I just thought she, I don't know, I just thought she had a thing about dirt or something." He leans back heavily in his seat, staring out the front windshield. "Fuck a duck, thirteen years," he breathes.

"We don't know where she is," she says dully. "Mama and Papa found out something and then were killed for it. I've spent the last three years looking for my sister."

The car is silent. Eventually, Adze starts driving again. Anna stares out the window, wrung out and praying she didn't make the biggest mistake of her life.

"Kristoff."

She jumps a little then looks at him. He's staring at the road. "My name is Kristoff Bjorgman." He flashes her a weak smile, and suddenly, her shoulders feel lighter. "I figure I owe you guys that much."

There's a warm feeling inside her at the sight of his smile. It's different from the anger, more like a blanket than a raging fire. The streetlights are getting dimmer, the lights not as bright as the Upper City. Strange as it is to say, the undercity feels more like home. The streets are more familiar, dangerous but safe in ways she can't say.

Adze — Kristoff — clears his throat, shaking her out of her thoughts. "So, tonight...that was related to getting Rime out?"

Anna lets out a huff and slouches into the seat again. "Yeah. It was. She figured out Helios had something to do with it."

"And?"

She pulls her hair, not caring she's messing up the braid. "Oh, they totally have something to do with it. Turns out, that asshole they brought out, Scratch? He's the asshole who took her. Rime recognized him."

He blinks a few times. "Okay. Explain a thing," he says slowly. "If Scratch has her, why are we here and not kicking his ass?"

"Thank you!" She can't help herself, the thrill of vindication running up her spine like a current.

The car stereo lets out a burst of static. "It's not that simple," Elsa says, sounding tense.

"Uh, Rime? Wait, how did you...?"

Anna waves her hand. "Get used to it. She does that."

Elsa doesn't even bother responding to that. "It's easier this way than playing telephone with my sister here."

Kristoff moves his mouth a few times before he's able to make words come out. "Uh, right. So, how is it more complicated?"

"Well, for one thing, there were the armed guards and the snipers. And you without gear. No offense, but those aren't good odds."

"Wait, really? I was watching that crowd. I only saw the standard security," he says, frowning.

"They weren't in the crowd."

"Then how did you...?"

"Anti-theft biometric tags on their firearms."

That, Anna did not know. Kristoff lets out a low whistle. "Okay, that's serious." Complete understatement, seeing as how that's totally mil-spec hardware.

"How did he get his hands on that?" she wonders.

"I told you. Scratch is dangerous."

"Yeah, well, there's dangerous, and then there's that." Anna shakes her head.

Kristoff is frowning as he drives. "Seriously. Not many people rate that kind of hardware. Even less that a megacorp would work with. I've never heard of the guy until tonight."

Elsa sounds tired. "You wouldn't have. Benjamin Scratch doesn't exist."

Anna bolts upright. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up a second. How can he not exist? He was right there."

"So were Sophia and Eliot Donovan."

"Yeah, but he's working with Helios. That's not the same kind of thing," she points out. "And I'd assume people would talk."

"Sure. And if you ran a search on him, you'd pull up his birth records, university diploma, and a couple of articles about him. Or the odd paper written by him."

"Okay, I'm not following," Kristoff says. "That sounds like he exists."

The stereo lets out a burst of static. "Sure, but that's all I can find. The big things are all there, but there's nothing else. He doesn't exist in the world. I can't tell you where he buys his overpriced coffee. Or if he takes the train or drives to work. Or how well he tips his waiters. All the little traces people leave behind." Elsa has rarely sounded so frustrated. "He's a ghost."

It's not something Anna would have thought of checking. But Elsa's right. There's all sorts of little traces people leave behind, even when they try to live off the grid as much as possible. Loose cash helps, but someone like Scratch, someone working that closely with a megacorp? They'd be pulling out credsticks, not cash. They're the people who would leave traces, and if one thought to look, this looks weird.

But who would even think to look? It doesn't sound like this is the first time Elsa thought to look for these sorts of things. Sometimes, she really wonders how in the world her sister thinks, because it's so utterly bizarre at times.

Speaking of, there's something that's been gnawing on the back of her brain. "Hey. If he's the one who took you, whatever his name is, how come you didn't recognize him sooner? I mean, I'm pretty sure you had the security cameras."

Elsa's quiet again. "I never saw him. I didn't know what he looks like. I've only ever heard his voice."

"Wait, he kidnapped you, has held you for thirteen years, and you don't know what he looks like?" Kristoff sounds appalled. Or confused. Anna doesn't blame him.

"I..." A pause. "There was fire. And a lot of pain. And when I woke up, there wasn't anyone there."

He swears under his breath. Anna can't even manage that much. The words lodge themselves into her brain, and she chokes on them. Elsa's never talked much about that night, and Anna's never asked. Never wanted to know, even though she did. How did it even happen, how did she get taken, all of that. But she never thought about what it would mean, not really. Certainly not an eight-year-old girl waking up alone and hurting.

Her heart aches and her eyes burn. She has to look away, rubbing her eyes.

"Right," Kristoff's voice is rough, as if he's holding back rage and grief himself. "So we've got a man who doesn't exist to find." He swallows hard. "We find him, we get you, right?"

"...yeah, I think so."

He breathes deeply through his nose. "Okay then. So how do we find a ghost?"

"Kristoff, you don't..."

"I understand that we only met a few days ago. And that people like us don't trust easy." Anna looks up, and sees he's gripping the wheel, jaw clenched. "But if you think for one second that I can walk away right now, you don't know me at all."

"Kristoff," she whispers. She can't manage more than that right now.

"...thank you."

He nods once. "So," he says, a little easier now, "how do we do it?"

"I've got something monitoring Helios' internal network, but that's...not really a guarantee. Not with him," Elsa admits.

"Damn. Anything else?"

"Looking for him based on 'Benjamin Scratch' just gets me what he wants me to see. It's all stuff that'll satisfy a reporter, but nothing substantial." She sounds so very grumpy. "I'd need his real name to actually find him."

How do you find a ghost? Someone who flickers in and out of life, someone who doesn't even leave a trail in the Net, barely leaving a physical mark in the real world? But he does, doesn't he? Elsa said she only recognized him by his voice, but he does have a face. He can't entirely not exist, not really. Not if he rates that kind of firepower. Not if he can call up that kind of firepower. Men like him have to come from somewhere.

So the trick is figuring out where. Records of him have to exist; they just have to find a system that hasn't been compromised. And there are some systems, some networks that can't be hacked at all.

They can't erase human memory.

"I've got an idea," she says. Kristoff turns his head, asking the question with his expression alone.

Elsa doesn't even need to ask. "Oh."

Anna grins. Time for some good old-fashioned legwork. It's what she's good at, after all. She's bad at sitting still. She needs to run forward, run towards the goal.

Pick yourself up and try again.

The core of anger she's been nursing all night flares to life again, but this time, it's sharp, directed. She knows where she needs to go now.

After all, who better to go to than the person who controls the biggest blacksider network in the city?

"Yeah. We're going to the Black Court." Her grin turns feral. "It's time we paid the Contessa a visit."