protocol_02.04: traceroute

It's pure instinct that has Anna diving for cover before she even really registers what just happened. She's rolling in the dirt to get behind some scrap pile as she hears the crack again and a bullet hits where she was three seconds ago.

Shit.

She catches Kristoff rolling behind cover before the side of the warehouse blocks him from view. She can only assume Sven is right there with him, because she can't see him. All she can see is John lying crumpled on the grown, blood and brain matter splattered against the ground like a grotesque halo.

"Oh fuck. Anna!" Elsa yells in her ear.

"I'm okay! Still alive." She breathes in sharply through her nose and forces herself to look away from the corpse. Other things to worry about right now. A bullet hits the warehouse somewhere above her head, and she ducks down further on reflex. "Little help would be nice!"

"Dammit, dammit, dammit..." In any other situation, Elsa swearing a blue streak would be hilarious. Right now? More than a little concerning.

"Who are these guys?" Kristoff rasps over the comms. "The Duke? Helios?"

"Neither," Elsa says, tone grim. Great. They have the goddamn Men In Black shooting at them.

"That's helpful, Rime!" She spits into the pavement. "More different help would be great."

"One second," her sister nearly growls. "Get ready to run."

"Rime?!" Kristoff yells.

An agonized scream comes from a nearby rooftop, and Anna has half a second to see a body twist unnaturally in pain when Elsa yells "GO!"

Anna scrambles, hands and feet scrabbling against the dirt as she jumps and runs. "Oh my god, what did you do?"

"Made the battery in his nightvision goggles explode. He will no longer be a problem." Elsa's voice is flat and glacier-cold. A chill runs down Anna's spine. Shit.

She bounces off the grimy warehouse wall, zig-zagging as she can to knock off the aim of whatever backup the other shooter has. There's no way he's alone. But right now, they have zero goddamn clue where they might be, so getting the hell away is the best option.

At some point, maybe she'll feel bad about leaving John behind. But right now? No reason to make one corpse four.

"Left!"

Her boots skid on the wet pavement as she changes direction, tucking her head in to make a smaller target as she enters the alley. Not a second later, there's a whoomp of air as Kristoff slides into the wall and keeps going after her. The rapid click-clacks at her side lets her know Sven is there without her having to turn her head. Good. All still here.

A bullet slams into the wall next to her, showering her with broken brick. Goddammit, all still here.

"Plan?" she gasps out.

"Running!" Kristoff grits out, unslinging his own rifle and bringing up to ready.

"Got that!"

"Right!" Elsa's directions nearly have her slamming into the wall as she follows them, but she manages to avoid it. She just ducks her head and sprints.

The streets become a blur, a smear of wet greys and the smell of blood and iron. Her world has narrowed down to her surroundings, and Elsa's voice in her ear. The rifle in Kristoff's hands barks every so often, when they can stop running for the half second it takes for him to get the shot off. Anna doesn't know how many are chasing them.

It doesn't really matter.

Her boots slam against the pavement, staccato as she zig-zags down narrow streets and twisted alleys. Blood is rushing in her ears, the dull roar washing away all but the crack of gunshots and Elsa. Always Elsa. Leading her home, to safety. It's not a maze if she has a map.

She can't die tonight.

She ducks and weaves, dodging around cars and shattered glass that reflects the light of streetlights like a thousand dying stars. A featureless man in all black with goggles steps out of a doorway, clawing at his face. The pistol in her hand bucks, and he falls away, red painting the door behind him. Anna doesn't even remember drawing.

She keeps running. Somewhere off in the distance, an engine roars to life.

Kristoff runs beside her, crossing over her path in a complicated pattern dance between shots at the rooftops. Stepping in and out of each other's line of sight, never quite in the way, a spiralling comet as they race down the streets of Weasel Town. She can hear his ragged breathing, sees him twist his body into the smallest target he can. He dances to Elsa's calls like he was born to, just like she does, both of them flying without a net.

Kristoff's rifle barks.

A man drops down from a rooftop in front of her and raises his rifle. His eyes are unobscured. Anna can see that they're grey and hard.

The muzzle flashes.

Anna's knocked backwards, tumbling, tumbling down, feet sliding out from under her.

"Arc!"

"ANNA!" Elsa howls.

She can't pull in air. It hurts so fucking much. She's gasping, trying to get her lungs to start working again, come on, please.

There's a wordless snarl in her ear that cuts off in a burst of static and the scream of an engine. She moves her head just in time to see an unmanned motorcycle slam into the guy who shot her, tossing him into a wall. She turns away before she sees his face meet the front tire, but his scream echoes down the street before it's cut off in a wet squelch.

But it means she can see other black figures on the rooftops twist in pain and clutch their faces before their heads burst into flame and they fall screaming. Oh. The batteries. Elsa's upset.

Anna breathes in. "Rime."

There's no response.

She closes her eyes for a second, and breathes out. Breathes in. "Rime."

Still nothing. Some of the black figures have stopped screaming.

"Elsa. Elsa, I'm okay." She gets a hand underneath herself and pushes herself up with a groan. Ow. God, her ribs are going to look a mess tomorrow. She looks down at the new hole in her jacket.

Goddamn, is she glad she picked up that new body armor from Djinn or what. Money well spent.

"...Anna?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. I listened to you. You're always telling me to make I buy top-of-the-line protection. You're right. I'm fine." She's babbling, but oh god, she thought Elsa nearly lost it. Worse than what happened with Ixion. And yet, if she ignores the mess down the street, it's...weirdly comforting? Does that make her a terrible person?

A hand drops down in front of her face. She looks up. Kristoff is wide-eyed and pale, but his grip is sure when she takes his hand and hauls her to her feet. Something furry brushes against her free hand, and she curls her fingers into the top of Sven's fuzzy head.

"You okay?" he asks lowly, glancing around at the rooftops. No one's screaming anymore, although she can still see a number of small fires against the darkness.

"My ribs hurt like fuck, but yeah. Not dead, see?" She pokes the hole in her coat. "Ow. Okay, bad plan."

He pulls a face. "Shit. You can't run like that, and we're not out of the woods yet."

For a wild moment, she thinks he's about to suggest carrying her. She's strangely okay with this, which is not a train of thought she wants to get aboard right now, thanks brain. Damn it, Anna, focus.

"Get on the motorbike."

She blinks. "Er, you mean the one that has someone's face stuck in the front wheel?" She hazards a look at the mess and shudders.

Kristoff frowns. "Are you sure that's a good idea? One, I don't know how well she can hang on or drive, and two, Sven?"

"I'm driving. Arc, you think you can hang on to the handles? Adze, you'd have to hang onto her and Sven." Elsa's voice brooks no argument. Anna isn't sure if it's scarier than the silent rage.

He's the one who picks up the motorcycle from its side by the wall, and Anna can only see his involuntary wince when he looks at the body stuck underneath it. "Better you than me," he says, not at all apologetic. The bike itself is big, certainly big enough for her and Kristoff. Since he didn't even bother arguing, she guesses having Sven between them won't be a problem.

Getting onto the bike pulls her chest, making her wince. But leaning forward is easy, and all she has to do is hang on apparently. Ah. Autonomous cycle. It must have been the closest thing that Elsa could grab. "Were you planning ths?"

"Before you got yourself shot? Yes. Get on, guys. These guys might be down, but I don't know about backup."

"Or the Duke's goons. Because that'd be just perfect," he grumbles, but swings up behind her anyway. Sven leaps between them, and she can feel his warm doggy breath on the back of her neck. One of his arms comes up around, hesitates for a second, then slides in between her back and Sven, holding the dog close.

"Let's go." Elsa revs the engine, and they're off. Any other time, Anna would be pouting that she's not the one getting to drive, because aw, come on, it's a motorcycle! But yeah, not right now is good. Her braids whip around, and she has to spit one out when it lands in her mouth. Apparently helmets have other uses.

The bike eats up pavement as they swerve through the streets. None of the few people they see even think about stopping them, choosing instead to get out of the way. With Elsa driving, it doesn't take them long to reach the limits of Weasel Town, and she just blows right past it into Jeorling. Not that there's much obvious difference right at the edge, other than more of the streetlights working.

"Uh, Rime?" she asks, barely over the wind. "Where are we going?"

"Different tunnel entrance. I called in a favor. Contessa will have a car there waiting to take you directly back to Rittenhouse."

Anna grips the handles a little tighter. Sure she trusts the Contessa, but she can't even begin to imagine just what sort of "favor" Elsa called in. What she had to call in. Not many people even have markers from the Contessa even to call in. "Rime..."

"Not now."

Too many secrets. The knowledge tastes bitter on her tongue. It's not supposed to be this way.

They ditch the bike in an alley, and Elsa leads them to the tunnel entrance, hidden behind a storefront. The Black Court kid barely looks at them, and doesn't ask questions. Things are a little different in this sector, or the Contessa warned them off it. Either way, Anna's a little grateful for not having to explain. Sometimes, being a cog is useful.

By the time they get back to their home sector, Kristoff's practically hovering. After getting them to the tunnels, Elsa's been silent, he's not talkative, and Sven's, well, a dog. It's making her antsy, just being alone with her thoughts and coming down off the adrenalin high. Her chest is throbbing now, a dull roaring pain that sits on her lungs and keeps her from breathing too deeply, keeping her from regulating it to calm her racing thoughts. She knows he means well, but it's getting to where she just wants to yell, just wants everything to stop for ten goddamn seconds so she can make sense of everything that happened.

But it won't and she can't, so she lets him herd her towards familiar territory, in this odd dance where he almost moves to pick her up but then hesitates and thinks otherwise, backing off. Until she shuffle-stumbles when it starts all over. It'd probably be funny, if she didn't hurt so much. And it's not even a surprise when he takes them directly to Doc's.

"Doc!" he yells, as soon as they're inside the clinic.

The woman in question comes stumbling up the stairs, rubbing her eyes blearily. Her long black hair is out of it's usual ponytail. Oh right, it's probably like two in the morning. "Adze?" she mumbles. "Where's the fire?"

He gestures to her with one hand, other finally landing on her shoulder to hold her steady. Oh, the room looks less wobbly now. "Arc's been shot."

Doc gives him an incredulous look. "Why the hell is she still standing in my waiting room then? Get her down to an exam room!" she barks, apparently fully awake.

This time, she yelps when he finally does pick her up to haul her down the stairs. "Sorry," he mutters. "Doc would kill me if I let you walk down here." He carefully puts her down on an examination table.

"I'm fine," she says.

"Yeah, no," replies Doc, pulling on exam gloves as she walks into the room. Kristoff gets out of her way. "I'll be the judge of that." She glances at him over her shoulder. "You're out of here unless you're helping."

"I, uh, I'll just, um, wait outside?" he stammers before sliding out the door and closing it behind him.

Doc rolls her eyes. "Adze, subtlety is not your forte," Anna catches her muttering under her breath. Louder, she says "All right, let's have a look."

It takes both of them to get her out of her damaged jacket. Doc nods in approval once she sees the armor and then helps her out of that and her shirt as well. She holds up the damaged armor to get a closer look. "Bullet's still in there."

Which is preferable to it being inside her. As it is, her chest is one massive bruise. Apparently she's also lucky it only bruised her ribs, instead of breaking them. As it is, Doc slaps on some medication, bandages them up tight, gives her some painkillers, and orders her to rest for at least a week.

"I'll make both Rime and Adze enforce that if I have to," she warns.

Well, that's no fair. "A week?" she absolutely does not whine.

Doc gives her an unimpressed look. "Yes Arc. A week. You got shot." She yawns, and Anna feels a little guilty about dragging the older woman out of bed. "You're lucky. And anyway, those painkillers are going to make you barely want to get out of bed." She shrugs. "Think of it as a vacation."

Yeah right.

"Rime, you get that?" Doc says, looking at the ceiling.

"Yeah, I got that. I'll make sure she sticks to it."

Well, that doesn't sound ominous at all. Anna rolls her eyes. Anna trusts Elsa's methods of enforcing that about as far as she can throw her, which, considering Elsa isn't here, means it's really damn difficult. "Come on, Doc. I'll be good."

"I'd say I'll believe it when I see it, but really? You're a blacksider. All of you idiots think you're immortal until you realize you're not." There's a ghost of a smile on her lips. "So humor me."

Anna exhales loudly and slumps. "Well, okay," she says, sing-song.

Doc chuckles and ruffles her hair. "Imp." Her hand drops away. "Adze!" she yells.

The door opens, and Kristoff and Sven's heads poke around the doorframe. "Yeah?"

"She'll live," Doc says dryly. It takes all of Anna's effort not to laugh when he and Sven visibly relax. Aw. "Whatever it is you kids are doing, it needs to wait a week." He nods seriously. Well, she really couldn't expect him to do any less, considering he worked with Doc. The woman turns to Anna. "You going to be okay getting back, or you need an escort?"

She shakes her head. "I'll be fine. It's not far." She hops off the table and grabs her coat, putting it on carefully. The damaged armor she'll carry. A thought strikes her. "Er, how much do I owe you?"

Doc yawns again and waves her off. "Don't worry about it. I'd take it out of this guy's paycheck if I have to."

"Hey!"

Anna leaves the clinic chuckling at Doc's grin and Kristoff's indignant sputtering, painkillers in her pocket. She's pretty proud of successfully not walking into a lightpost, considering, and makes it to her apartment without incident. Her coat gets thrown into a corner, along with the armor. A very loud part of her just wants to go to bed, but there's something telling her that would be a bad idea at the moment. She hasn't forgotten her anger at Elsa for hiding things, and now that she's safe, now that adrenalin and fear aren't talking, that anger is roaring up inside her.

So she grits her teeth and goes over to the kitchen to make herself a hot cocoa. Might as well do something nice for herself. There's silence from Elsa, even though Anna knows she's paying attention. That's fine. She'll just make her drink, nevermind the banging and clattering she's doing in the process.

After dropping her spoon for the third time, she slams it down on the counter. "Aren't you going to say anything?" So much for the silent treatment.

"What do you want me to say, Anna? That I'm sorry for not telling you? Because you're asking me to lie."

"No," she says. Her hands grip the counter, knuckles aching and arms trembling. "No, Elsa, you don't get to do that. We're a team, goddammit. You don't get to shut me out. I'm the one person you don't get to do that to!"

"I will if it keeps you alive." Elsa's voice is chilly and hard, a deep and frigid cold that cuts across an icy wasteland of emotion. Almost toneless, dead, and irritatingly apt, considering.

And i's the wrong thing to say. The fire in Anna's chest roars, anger licking hot again. "No. I refuse to accept that. You don't think I care? That I want you out too?" Her hand cuts through the air in front of her, and the spoon goes flying. "Do you even want to get out?"

She didn't mean to ask that. But the thing is, Anna just assumed. Right from that first night, she assumed that her sister wanted out, wanted to be with her. And she bullrushed ahead. But right now? She doesn't know what to think. Because the person she trusts most in the world is hiding away and not telling her things. Anna's been alive long enough down here to know that your partner not telling you things is basically a death sentence. Not having enough information gets you killed. Hell, Elsa herself's been harping on it for the last three years.

The answer is a long time coming. "Not if it costs you," Elsa admits, and Anna's heart twists. "You're the one thing I still have left to lose."

Anna closes her eyes. "That's not fair."

"You wanted me to tell you the truth? You want me to let you in? I can't lose you. That's the truth you want. And I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe. And if it came down to you or me, it's you, without question, every single time."

The worst part is how even Elsa sounds. It's a recitation of facts. And Anna remembers this past night, remembers her sister's cold rage and ruthlessness when she thought Anna was hurt. She remembers Ixion, and how much it unsettled her, and honestly, how this is so much worse. It's not that she isn't grateful for the save. Both Ixion and the grey-eyed man would have killed her without remorse, and same with all the other men-in-black on the rooftops tonight. It's how they died that makes her unease, makes her afraid.

Elsa scared her again tonight. After they'd argued, she protected her with a viciousness that's just hard to reconcile with the same sister who's scared of Scratch, who tells Anna bedtime stories. Elsa scared her. And some part of Anna hates herself for that.

It's really not fair at all.

"And what about you?" she whispers past dry lips. Her throat hurts, her chest hurts, and it's not just because of the injury. "How do you...do you think I don't care? You're all I have left too."

"Anna...that's not true."

Why can't she see? She's not listening. And it aches, deep inside, a part of her that's been whimpering at a closed door for the last thirteen years, ever since the memory of her sister had been put in the ground. "No..." she mutters, wiping fiercely at her eyes. Her hand comes away wet.

"You have other — "

"They're not you!"

Elsa falls silent. All Anna can hear is the sound of her own breathing, harsh and rough, echoing in the apartment. Tears fall off her chin, and she rubs a sleeve across her face. She slumps, fight gone out of her. She's just so damn tired.

"I just want you back," she whispers.

Elsa says nothing as Anna give up on the cocoa and changes into her pajamas. The painkillers are making her sluggish and her limbs feel like lead. At least, she thinks it's the painkillers. She pulls the blankets up to her chin as she curls up, legs against her chest. "I just want things back to the way they were," she mumbles, thick with sleep and the weight of all the things said, as she closes her eyes.

"I'm sorry."

The next morning is awkward. The painkillers wore off while she slept, and Anna wakes up with everything hurting. Suddenly, Doc's orders of resting don't sound so terrible. For the next few days, she manages soup and hot chocolate, and navigating the sudden minefield of things left unsaid between her and Elsa. Anna isn't sure how much of that conversation was the painkillers obliterating her brain-to-mouth filter and how much was just anger and frustration. But the tentative words and hesitant silences feel so much like three years ago, when they were both trying to learn each other again.

But things also feel a little lighter, despite all that. Like a floor scrubbed clean; it was harsh and still lingers, but it's probably better this way.

In any case, it's only for a few days. By the fourth, Elsa's back to biting sarcasm and Anna's crawling up the walls. Even going down to Sanctuary is no help, as Doc has already gotten to T. T takes one look at Anna, makes her "sit her ass down in a chair", and shoves food into her hands.

"In what universe would this plan have gone differently?"

Anna doesn't even bother to reply. Hey, at least T's food beats cup-o-noodles any day of the week, so at least there's that. And Kristoff shows up once he hears she's back on her feet, which is even more nice. Totally because that means Sven is there too. Yep. She'll blame the weird feeling in her chest on the bruises.

But neither of them let her do anything either.

"Arc, you were shot."

"It's only a bruise!"

"Oh my god..." Kristoff buries his face in his hands.

Traitors, all of them.

But overall, it's a great big mass of boring. Anna spends a lot of it at her apartment anyway, staring at the news channels. Every mention of Helios sends her heart rate spiking. The news and speculation hasn't died down yet, and since T can't send her off to work of the tension, Anna gets to listen to it. Overall? A lot of nothing, repeated over and over. God, the news media is useless. It's like they're forbidden from actually providing information of value.

She's flopped out on the couch, pillow thrown over her face. "Oh god, make the talking heads shut up. No one cares."

"You know, you could watch something else."

Anna tries to say something, but gets a mouthful of fuzz instead.

"Well that was intelligible." Deserts are less dry than Elsa's voice. It's times like this Anna wishes her sister was there if only she could throw something at her. "Look lively, I've got some actual news."

Anna bolts upright, and the pillow goes flying. She's pleased to absently note her chest doesn't hurt when she does that anymore, but she's got other things to pay attention to. "What? Did you...?"

"Olaf found something. There's a lab in Capekton you need to go to."

The Middle City this time? At least it isn't Weasel Town. Probably less chance of getting shot. Again.

Probably best not to voice that thought. "What's the lab?"

"It's...it's an R&D lab, owned by a company called Tozai, which is actually a shell of Helios." There's a pause. "I can't say more right now."

Anna stops, then tilts her head slightly. "Can't? Or won't?"

"Can't." She imagines Elsa shaking her head. "Look, I know it sucks, but I'm not really sure what's there. And I don't want to make guesses and be way off-base."

Okay, that sounds reasonable. Bad information is worse than no information.

"All right," she says slowly, swinging her legs around and standing up. She stretches upwards, arms over her head, and rolls her neck. "Let me get my gear. Oh, and one of us should get call Kristoff," she calls out as she walks to her bedroom.

"Meet at Sanctuary in fifteen?"

Anna pauses as she stands in front of her closet, staring at her gear. "Actually," she hesitates, drawing out the word, "I was thinking...could you tell him to come here?"

There's a long stretch of silence. "You want," Elsa finally says, "to have the job meeting here. As in this apartment."

It's not really Elsa's fault she's acting like Anna's lost her mind. What she's proposing is the kind of thing that just doesn't happen. Her apartment in her safehouse, the sort of bolt-hole and safe haven anyone in this kind of life needs. The simple fact is most blacksiders don't trust each other enough to invite each other over. That's why meeting rooms like those at Sanctuary were a feature in any self-respecting blacksider bar. So, for her to suggest they have the job planning meeting here either meant she trusted Kristoff with more than her life, or that Elsa should call Doc about possible mental side-effects of the drugs.

Thing is, though, that Anna does trust Kristoff with more than her life. She already trusted him with Elsa, so this...well, it seems small after that. And it makes more sense now.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do," Anna says as she shoves some hangers aside to find a clean shirt. Oh right, she needs to replace the damaged armor plate in that vest. As she reaches for some, she realizes Elsa is probably waiting for some kind of explanation. "He already knows about all the other stuff. It's not like I've got other secrets at this point."

"...all right, I'll get him over here." Elsa still sounds like she's unconvinced, but Anna guesses they've done enough fighting, and she's just picking her battles. Anna will take what she can get.

By the time there's a knock on the front door, Anna's double-checking the straps on her gear. Figures Elsa would have let him through the rest of the security, but there isn't a damn thing she could do about the deadbolt on the door. She hops over the back of the sofa to get it, pleased by how the motion doesn't hurt at all. A quick check in the peephole, not that she needs to but paranoia is ground-in, and she's sliding the deadbolt back and opening the door to reveal Kristoff and Sven. He looks confused. Sven's just wagging his tail happily with his tongue lolling out.

She steps aside to let them in. Sven trots in without any hesitation; Kristoff still looks wary as she closes the door behind him, looking around and shuffling from foot to foot. "Um, nice place?" he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Er...oh! How're you feeling?"

Anna shrugs. "Much better," she says, stretching again. "Doc's really good. Thanks again."

He nods, and then glances around again. "Yeah, she really is." He shakes his head, shaggy blonde hair flying. "Anyway. Rime said she got a lead?"

She hops over to the sofa again and throws herself into it. "Lab up in the Middle City, owned by Tozai. Apparently they're doing something with Helios."

"Tozai, huh?" Kristoff rubs his chin as he wanders over to the sofa to sit down more sedately. He props his rifle against the armrest. "Never heard of them."

"Not surprising. I had to dig pretty deeply into Helios' databases to find this."

"Great. This sounds like fun," he grumbles. Sven woofs. "Yeah, I know. This entire thing was my choice."

"Well, the good news is it's the Middle City," Anna points out helpfully.

"Oh wonderful, so we might just have to deal with more Men In Black and white-collar crime," he huffs, crossing his arms. Then uncrosses them and leans forward. "All right. So what's the plan."

"Well, you're right that there's more white-collar crime," Elsa says, "but it's probably irrelevant to this. Unless things are weirder than I think over there. Anyway, this might be a simple sneak-in-and-out job. Sorry to say it, but my guess is that those guys were watching John. We just got unlucky."

Anna blinks. "What makes you say that?"

"The sniper could have killed any one of you first when you stepped out of the warehouse. They picked him. You were...collateral." Elsa says slowly. "I'm still waiting on the scans of the bullet we dug out of your vest to come back. Contessa thinks her people can trace it."

"You've been busy," Kristoff says in the ensuing silence. Which is good, because Anna has no idea what to say to that.

"I...yeah."

Anna claps her hands together. When in doubt, change the subject. "All right. So, plan?"

The plan involves driving up to Capekton under the cover of darkness. Or at least as much darkness as decently-lit streetlights allow. The point is more that they're doing this after hours, and sneaking in through the loading dock. Hopefully, the worst they'll have to deal with is overworked engineers and scientists working late.

"Worst case scenario, I'll just make their computers kernel panic for a bit," Elsa points out.

Anna whistles. "Damn, that's just mean."

"Desperate times, right?"

She can see her breath as she waits for Elsa to get the loading dock doors open. They left the car parked a few blocks over, and walked the rest of the way, and she's now got her gloved hands shoved into her pockets. The Middle City is cooler than the undercity, less heat trapped from the buildings above it. Up here, Anna can actually feel the mid-December wind as it blows through the wind tunnels made by the buildings.

The light on the keypad lock blinks green. Kristoff wastes no time in pulling open the door and they all scoot in quickly. Sven shuffles in front and pads up the stairs to the building proper.

"You got the cameras, Rime?" Kristoff asks quietly.

"Yeah. They're on loop right now."

Anna nods. "Let's go."

They ghost through the hallways, following Elsa's directions once again. Sometimes, Sven sniffs and stops, which is when Elsa decides to throttle the internet connection on whatever hapless, hardworking engineer is unlucky enough to be nearby. Surprisingly, this works, and the three of them are able to quickly move on to safer areas.

It'd be funny, if it was a different situation. Elsa 1, System administrators 0. Well, for the last few seconds. Anna lost count of the score long ago.

The lab they finally make it to is isolated and under heavy lock. Anna pulls out her lockpicking kit to deal with the mechanical one as Elsa deals with the electrical. Both Kristoff and Sven play lookout on either side of Anna, each watching the hallway. Her sister finishes first, of course, but Anna just makes a note to practice more and gets the door open not long after.

The lab itself looks like a typical science lab. The black countertops reflect the chemstick Anna cracks weirdly, throwing shadows up on the walls. Various electronic test equipment is stacked neatly over the benches, anti-static mats covering various surfaces. There are a few benches with test tubes and pipettes arrayed, ready to use. Two fridges stand against the wall near the back. One has a biohazard sticker on it; the other has a padlock.

The sound of their breathing, the running fridges, and the clack of Sven's nails on the tile are the only sounds. Anna bites her lip. This entire place looks weird. Like no one's using it.

"Rime, are you sure this is the right lab?" she asks subvocally, still looking around.

"Yes. You should find something..."

"Wait," Anna says, spotting it. Against the back wall, there's a glass enclosure, with gloves sticking in so someone doesn't have to touch anything inside. Such as the clear box right in the middle of it, with some electronic parts scattered around. She walks over and sticks her hands into the black rubber gloves. They tighten automatically against her hands, vacuum sealing, but allowing her arms free range of movement inside the enclosure.

She picks up one of the electronic parts first, bringing it up to the glass. "I've seen this before..." she whispers.

"That's...that's a skiz network jack," Kristoff mutters. Anna tilts her head slightly to see him peering over her shoulder. "A really new model, but a jack."

"Or...a prototype?" she hazards.

"Could be." He shifts a bit behind her, and she can almost see him frown deeply in thought. He takes a step back, leaving her to it.

"Rime?"

"Sorry, in the middle of something that just came up."

Anna turns back to the chamber and focuses her attention on the clear box. There's something silvery and vaguely goopy pooling in the bottom. She picks up the box, and the liquid comes alive, slithering up the walls in tree-like patterns, curling around the edges, and concentrating near the hand that still holds the jack. She quickly puts the box down, and then starts dragging the jack around the sides. The liquid follows her movements, tracing silver rivers around the inside of the clear cube.

"Nanomachines," she breathes.

She's heard of the technology, of course. It was hard not to, four years ago when someone managed it. Anna remembers Mama and Papa talking about it over dinner for a week, about the implications of it. About how they could help so many people, in ways doctors and other parts of modern medicine could not. How they could be programmed to boost a compromised immune system, repair all sorts of damage, help with surgeries. And that was just scratching the surface.

Not that any of their wild dreams and speculation ever got anywhere, she thinks bitterly. Nanomachines have mostly stayed in labs and maybe small useless things of the stupidly, filthy rich. Sometimes they end up on the black market, or some small fabrication outfit manages to get their hands on some, possibly off the back of trucks.

"What in god's name are they doing with nanomachines and skiz jacks?" Anna whispers.

"Apparently trying to fix toxicity issues, at least if I'm reading this notebook right," Kristoff says. She cranes her head around to see him frowning at a brown notebook. She can't tell if the pages are actually yellow or if that's just the light from the chemstick he'd apparently picked up. He snaps it shut.

Anna figures out how to pull her hands out of the rubber gloves and pulls at her hair. "This isn't making sense. Rime, what are we looking for?"

It isn't Elsa who answers first. It's Sven, who's whining and pawing at a filing cabinet shoved in between the padlocked fridge and the back wall. Anna and Kristoff exchange looks.

"Sven?" he asks.

Sven turns his head to look at them, then whines again and turns back to paw again at the cabinet. Kristoff shrugs and walks over, Anna half a step behind him. He pulls open the drawer, and she's hit with the smell of old paper. She frowns, and then pages through some of the files. There's a lot of shipping manifests, some over ten years old.

Quickly flipping through them, Anna notes that the signature on the point of origin is the same on a bunch of them from that long ago, before that signature disappears. Unfortunately, it's a messy scrawl. "Dammit, all I can read are two initials: N and P. This is so useless."

"Did you say N.P.?" Elsa asks sharply.

"Yes? Why?"

"Because I got a call from the Contessa five minutes ago. That's why I was busy. She got a trace on Scratch. Someone who recognized him under a different name: Nicholas Pike."

The papers fall from Anna's suddenly numb fingers. "That means..." she whispers. They have a name, confirmed to be linked to everything. They know who 'Benjamin Scratch' really is. Or at least, the man who left a trail.

"I know what to look for." Elsa's voice is hard again. "Get out of there now, we're done here."

Kristoff snaps a photo of the top manifest before shoving the pile back into the cabinet. Anna looks up at him curiously. "Just in case the address still exists, Rime," he says.

"Thanks. Now get moving. You should be clear for the next five."

They are, walking quickly through the hallways and stairwells back to the loading dock. Whatever Elsa did to the researchers' computers is still tying them up, and the three of them slip on out with no one the wiser.

Anna's knows she's practically vibrating with energy on the way back to the undercity. They're getting closer, she can taste it. Elsa hasn't failed to find someone once she has a trail this solid yet.

She just has to wait a little bit longer.