I wiLL come home 2

by overlyred

... . ...

0.1 - "Big Fish Leaps Out of Small Pond"

Friday, June 29th, 2012

We are the victors. Those that have traveled the glory road and reached the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. We are epic, I thought.

"What do you want to do?" I addressed the group.

"Dunno. What do you want to do?" Silla, the newest member of the now much reduced 'inner circle,' questioned me in return. She, much like her now fiancée Jessica, was thankfully hiding her drop dead gorgeous appearance behind conservative clothing, makeup and heavily rimmed, harsh decorative glasses. Unlike Jessica, she was a fair-skinned blond in contrast to the slight tan-like tone of her brunette partner. While I may argue the heights of her intelligence - successfully managing to be an effective teacher at any level is an achievement in itself - she isn't doing much to show it right now.

I let out a long, overly dramatic groan.

We are bored.

It could be said that I was the victim of my own success. The multi-verse cluster associated with Earth Bet and all the other inhabited Earths were as close to perfectly managed as they could be. Zion and his partner were 'taken care of,' the Endbringers turned into either guardians for humanity or Guardians for my Domain, a fleet of Entity hunters released... Masses of resurrections, planetary restorations, construction - even a whole Dyson sphere! With the replicating features based on Von Neumann concepts and portal-supplied stream of material, it was finished in under a month.

"Ziz angel? Ideas?" I tilted my head back to gaze upwards at the Guardian I was lying on. Formerly an Endbringer, the Simurgh, she had changed into an idealized feminine version of her old form. It was a form that required clothing, which in this case was a strapless white dress that spanned from high on her chest to mid thighs. The reason I was using her as a living pillow was the same reason a few more of us were - she was incredibly soft, especially if you include her wings in the equation.

"Resting." The pleasing harmonics of her voice rippled through me and everyone else here. The shocking white of her ankle length hair covered the ground of the forest floor below her. It was a contrast to the more metallic platinum shade of her skin. If I looked at it long enough, there would be the odd sign of Ziz's telekinesis cleaning or grooming it, or some of Taylor's insects doing the same.

"Tays? Any help?" I directed the question this time to the group of four Taylors. Taylor Heberts, to be exact. One of them would be the primary, the controlling intelligence for some odd trillions of insects she controls, and the remainder simply clones directed the same way. Some of Ziz's wings were folded around the four of them. They all looked bored as well, but were keeping busy by playing rock-papers-scissors with her selves.

I honestly don't have an idea of how that would work. I mean... Who won? Who lost? It boggles the mind.

"I'm tapped out, Mike. Most of the last week has been filled with closing up shop across the various worlds, not trying to find new things to do. There are only so many awkward conversations I can have with my honeymooning parents." The four of them were dressed in the same kind of theme. Today it was a kind of heavy silken jumpsuit, each put to a different colour. Detailed analysis would reveal that the silk was in fact spider silk, all produced from her own batches of custom insects - colour included.

In the last year, she has grown up and out. Not wanting to reach actual super model strata, she emulated the ageless beauty of her mother. In this case, it was done with long, slightly curled brunette hair and a very tall figure. The Taylors were the tallest of us normal sized folks, unless I altered my shape to compensate or something.

"Everything good with them, though? Between you and them? ...Me?" The Heberts were the closest I had to an actual family. They supported me when I showed up out of nowhere in Taylor's bedroom after I popped out of my personal life-book, the final relic of my old, collapsed demi-plane universe self. The process prior to that particular appearance involved screaming, mental anguish and a whole lot of blank, grey granite.

Don't ask about the grey granite. Seriously.

"For the hundredth odd time, Mike, yes. The exact same thing - they love me and would prefer that I live with them again until I'm at least eighteen and not go criss-crossing the universes with you." A Taylor let out a sigh. "Then they let out some apologetic noises about being grateful for everything you've done and how they consider you family too, but would prefer that I stayed in reach. Personally, I'm not seeing much criss-crossing happening."

With what was either a masterful display of body language or an accident, the nearest Taylor brushed her hair back from her ear. It drew attention to the earring there - a small ant made of diamond. It was one sample of a gift I gave to her on her sixteenth birthday and added to on her recently seventeenth. The birthday before last she expressed some very direct indirect forms of interest towards me, making the reference to her eighteenth birthday a rather loaded topic.

Taylor was also the sole custodian of my life book, the item I had emerged from into her bedroom long ago. Apart from being indestructible, it also gave a continually updating written accounting of my life, told as if written from my first person perspective of life. It gave Taylor a rather powerful insight into me, and allowed her to be a counter force against my sliding into inhumanity.

"Right about now, I'd be happy with even one alien insect species..." Her last words were all but muttered under her breath, but as she knew I had enhanced hearing it was as good as whispering it into my ears.

Nessi was another person with a form of insightful access to my thoughts. While she was physically beside me, in her exquisitely crafted gynoid chassis, she also shared my mental musings, feelings and emotions. This particular sharing occurred because she was an artificial intelligence residing in the virtually emulated computer hardware in my Machina Mind.

Dearest head-mate, I thought. Any suggestions?

Taylor has the right of it, you know it. Everybody here gets that you are dragging your feet. Nessi replied in kind, moving herself so that her blue-glowing fiber-optic hair trailed over my closest arm. I've been ready for ages. The only thing I'm doing is keeping up my top two hundred ratings in Forever Awesome - locking Dragon out of those positions in the mean time.

The biggest online game between all the digitally connected Earths, Forever Awesome, was the brain child of Uber and Leet. Previously a D-lister criminal duo, what started as an exercise in massive unofficially approved copyright violation became a gaming monolith employing tens of thousands of designers and played by billions of people.

Really?

Really.

In spite of her her serious words, she climbed up beside me on Ziz. A soft white wing guided her beside me and acted as a blanket once she settled down.

I had originally thought that Nessi would want everything when I delegated my powers around. Ziz, for instance, received all my telekineses and nearly all my precognition powers, while Emoth picked up a high degree of earth, fire and metal elementalism. Not that I couldn't get them back if I really wanted to, but at least this way they would be used and 'gain interest' for me, if abysmally slow. Nessi, despite the offering of all my Machina Mind related powers, pushed back on one important topic - the ability to magically change her own core programming. Magical coding bullshit, basically.

She explained to me that in less than a billionth of a second, with that power, she could fundamentally alter - even destroy - her own identity by accident or curious impulse. She didn't want that temptation. It followed the same idea for me, with the placing of my own 'emotional numbing' power into a 'restricted' box of sorts, as well as requiring me to 'root myself' into the surface of my Domain when I wanted to use those wide-spread powers.

In one of the few times I had seen her allow herself to go emotionally frantic, it was conveyed to me that what I was offering was worse than giving a key to the booze cabinet to an alcoholic - it was hooking up the hoses directly into her stomach and pinching shut the building pressure behind it. I took it back with as much careful grace as possible and managed to somehow bring us to a closer connection afterwards, in spite of my bout of mindlessness.

I pulled her nearer beside me and she did her best to accommodate the movements. Her personal scent of vanilla and roses wafted over with the actions.

My kitten Lionheart, full title being Catticus Supreme, Potential Destroyer of Worlds, was napping on my chest. None of the movements or discussions over the past little while so much as caused him to roll over. He remained physically unchanged since the day I got him - a supremely tiny little white kitten, that could curl up and fit on my open hand. His locked physical state was in direct contract to his other developments. As he had often been riding on top of my head, Lionheart had received nearly non-stop enhancements to his own powers. He could be compared to the small fuzzy tip of a mountain sized weapon of mass destruction.

Even my fuzzy wuzzy little guy wanted something out of me. We had a prior agreement to get him to destroy a planet of evil werewolves, and the one place we were are all but sure they were not, was in this particular multi-verse. We have yet to get so desperate as to make our own.

I stroked my little doom kitten a few times and he shifted, otherwise remaining asleep.

Apart from the other Guardians, Jessica was the last person to ask. She was my executive assistant and had gotten to know me, my habits and my personality rather well as we worked together. Initially starting off as someone I could hoist responsibility onto, she was also drafted into the 'keep Mike's humanity active and don't let him devolve into a mindless genius loci' group.

"Jess? Ideas for things to do?" I called out to where she was playing with Emoth, the 'friendly giant' golem themed Guardian. Originally Behemoth, his spiky nature became much more streamlined. His grey skin was topped with black scale-like coverings, outlined with the glow of flowing magma. Safe to the touch, his recent obtainment of metal-based elementalism showed up as a wire-like lattice over his entire body and a full-head helmet that adhered to his horns.

"Taylor already said it, Sanctum." Remaining professional even while playing peek-a-boo with a giant golem is impressive. She managed it with style, though her lack of enthusiasm was evident.

Seems like the popular vote was in. Everybody was all for moving out. I spared a glance to where Levi and Khonsu were playing. Levi was using his tail to poke at various spots on the other Guardian, while Khonsu was merely trying to even catch it with his eyes. They were leaning against each other and I could imagine them doing some sort of 'bro talk' about how bored they were, too.

Bohu and Tohu were nowhere to be found. The smaller one was extremely shy and stayed in this forest, while the other... Was the forest, or close enough. Her Guardian form was a massive tree and I formed this Greenery around it - a few square kilometers of what would be like an impassable jungle, except that every form of connected plant life was friendly and responsive to us all. Fresh fruit on request topped it off.

"All right, everybody," I said, trusting that my voice would carry. "You convinced me. Let's all go to one of the Nessi-approved multi-verses."

With different variations of 'yes!', 'finally!' and 'it's about time!', we began the final preparations for leaving.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

One of the last steps was to disconnect all of the Gates from the greater universe. I had already twisted off the spatial tunnel that connected my area to the property that once belonged to the Heberts, among the preserved ruins of Brockton Bay. I felt the severing of my awareness from the land of Earth Bet, as small as it was to the interior space of my Domain. Some trace would likely remain there - I had instructed Dragon to examine the site with the assistance of Professor Haywire.

As I had no way of knowing what the subjective experiences of inter-multi-versal movement were like, I resolved to 'be at the helm' by myself.

All of my preexisting Gate pairs were in this single, large room. It was originally the 'short highway' used for Umbrella Group members. I had collapsed, joined, and otherwise stabilized all the spatial regions in my area into a more structured form, with this one at the point.

This room was circular in shape, with a domed ceiling. All the surfaces were coloured an uniform, off-white beige. It gave greater contrast to the openings spanning the edges of the room. Every single Gate had it's destination set to a point opposite it. The single exception was the portal that showed a view of Earth Bet from space.

Goodbye, blue green planet. Live long and prosper.

With those well wishes firmly entrenched in my mind, I saluted the distant planet and reset the Gate in front of me to the opposite side of the room. With a touch of my portal key, it was done. I was completely detached from the physical universe once more.

Everything seems alright so far. This was the default and original state of me, when I first gained this existence. I had - and have! - a bit of love hate relationship with it. Kind of like hiding under the bed as a kid, next to the horrible monster who moves over to give you some room. After all, the bigger monsters are circling the bed.

I was overruled earlier in my intentions to have us all hang out here a while. It was counter-productive to do so, when we had as much time as we wanted when connected to other universes.

My rainbow hued silk slippers shuffled back and forth as I thought about the next steps. This whole process hardly had an instruction manual, though the Guidebook would come close. It was stashed with Ziz for a while now, and considering that she had not felt it necessary to give me any advice or 'next step' recommendations, all I needed was some will and intent.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the mental image Nessi had given me earlier. It was one of the few ones she had found by going through the perfectly paranoid extra-dimensional scrying process. Supposed to be a boundary demiplane of sorts, with the biggest impressions being darkness... And fog...

Opening my eyes, I again touched the Gate in front of me with my portal key. Instants later, it appeared filled with dense, white fog.

Is this supposed to be a demiplane of mist?, I thought. Waste of time, then. I began to picture another destination in my mind when the mists spoke to me.

Greetings, Mike, also known as Sanctum.

Being a paragon of politeness and sanity, I did my best to be a good potential neighbour.

"Hello to you too, mysterious talking mists! How did you know my name, anyways?"

Your viewing of all the multi-verses was felt. We were but one such who looked back at you.

"Oh. Right. That whole 'I saw everything' business. Still... Nice to meet you! Well wishes from one odd entity to another!"

The mist doesn't really do anything. It just was.

You would not want our well wishes, Sanctum. We are the Dark Powers of the Land of Mists, and serve as jailers for various beings across this cluster of multi-verses.

"Fair enough. I'll make a note of that, then: this misty land's formal name is 'The Land of Mists', and is ruled by the Dark Powers. Should I chuck any massively heinous criminals I find on my travels in here? No? Okay..."

I took a look at the dense gathering of fog again. This is a demi-plane, and considering I never had a chance to use that subsuming power - maybe I could now? It'd be polite to ask first, of course, since the hosts have so properly greeted me.

"I have an ability that allows me to sample non-material qualities of other planes and universes. Would it be terribly rude of me to request a... Nibble or two of your Land of Mists? If you say no I'd completely understand."

Be our guest, Sanctum. If you could tell us how it tasted, it would be much appreciated.

"Really? Great! I'll just get started on that then..."

I have no idea how to 'subsume' things. I'll just follow the idea of 'mental imagery' and see how that goes.

Mentally concentrating on the space just outside the misty border, I began to imagine a whirlpool-like funnel. It started spinning slowly and eventually accelerated. Mere seconds after the imagery began, it was possible to physically see the shape and outline of the whirlpool's actions.

The fog shifted with the movement, being drawn in through the funnel and coming through the Gate into my Domain. The process could be compared to how ambient magic energy flowed, with more and more of the vapours entering until a kind of equilibrium was reached. I was 'full.'

"To answer your question, it tastes a bit like... Inky black screams heard through hollow bone wind-chimes glistening with an ocean of tears, with a hint of cinnamon, coppery iron and moonlight. Very nice, would recommend."

Much appreciated. Be aware that others have looked back at you and might not be as nice as us.

"Really? Damn. Thanks for the warning. I suppose I'll have to be on a very cautious lookout for cosmic-grade powers with the ability to 'look back' across the multi-verses. Appreciated. Anything else from your end, esteemed Dark Powers?"

We bestow upon you the honorary titles of Dark Power and Darklord of Yourself as a Domain, Sanctum. May you never fail to acknowledge your wrong-doings, perform an Act of Ultimate Darkness, or become a Phantasmagoria.

"Wow. 'Dark Power' and 'Darklord of Myself as a Domain.' Thanks. I think this is the first time an official set of titles was gifted to me. For the other bits: I fully intend to acknowledge my wrong-doings, even if only to myself and those close to me, and don't ever intend to perform an Act of Ultimate Darkness or become a Phantasmagoria, whatever they are."

Travel, Sanctum. Your journey is long.

With a jaunty wave in the direction of the mists, I touched it again with my portal key.

0.2 - "Cagestruck to Cutter"

Sunday, July 1st, 2012 (Earth Bet calendar)

We've run into a little bit of a problem. By 'little bit' I mean 'terrible horrible calamity, run and hide, scream and die.' This was indicated by the utter blackness shown up in front of me - a Gate that appeared without my prompting or direction as we were all traversing through various multi-verses.

Only Nessi shared my trepidation the same way as I do, due to our unique mental bond. Ziz was standing behind me, offering what comfort she could with her soft, white wings. Everybody else was staring out through the opening.

The Gate was 'black' for one and only one reason: the absolute highest level of 'danger sense' triggering, something beyond 'dark red.' It indicated something beyond simply physical death for me. Soul annihilation or capture, utter disintegration of my Domain... Blank, grey granite.

Nessi hugged me tightly without me asking her to.

"What do you think is going to happen?" I whispered to her in drop-dead seriousness. I looked at the gathered trio of a Taylor, Jessica and Silla, standing by the opening. "Everybody over there is simply reporting that some sort of city is outside. Lots of strange people and beings walking around and no sky - simply more of the city in view instead. The portal scanner isn't picking up anything else, either - this is a low tech setting. Nothing in reach."

"I know that last part better than any of us, Mike." Nessi replied quietly to me, while still holding on tight. "No internet, no digital nothing. I'm playing a few trillion board games with myself right now to stave off the crushing boredom, among other things."

The one bright light in all this is the actions of Ziz, the platinum skinned angel Guardian of mine. She was utterly calm, tranquil even, and with her earlier prompting I did nothing to the aberrant Gate but wait right here, in a large room-like space that was created around it.

Nessi checked with Ziz earlier and received approval for a simple do-over of the opening. With the assistance of a few stealthed drones that were not actively controlled, the walls and street-side immediately outside the opening were scanned and sampled. Some Conjuring later and my normal 'window in space floating in the air' style opening was transformed into a perfectly normal doorway leading to the outside street.

Nothing suspicious here, no sir!

Slowly, almost without me noticing, Ziz moved from behind me and drifted over to the doorway watchers. She escorted them out the back with her wings, waving a brief goodbye with a smile to Nessi and myself.

Something is going to happen now, I thought.

Finally!, Nessi replied into our shared mind-space. I see someone coming. Her words sounds curious. Lead the talk and I'll prompt as needed, alright?

Got it.

She smoothly separated herself from behind me and turned on her hard-light holographic disguise overlays. It changed her normally 'chic gynoid robotic' appearance to a more human version of the same thing - pale blue metal to pale white skin, among other things. I made a conscious effort to not pay much attention to it, as I don't consider it the 'real' Nessi.

I relocated Lionheart from my head-top to a shoulder and did a quick pass over my clothes. A perfectly pressed tie-died rainbow suit, with matching dress shoes, resulted.

Moments later, a young, red-haired woman came in through the front door. The most striking details about her were her flame-red hair, pulled into a high ponytail that mushroomed out over her head, a spiked tail and a furry, one-eyed creature on her shoulders. Lionheart was cuter.

She stopped after walking a few paces inside, slight grin on her face. It widened slightly at the sight of us. Striking what was an obvious pose, she spoke.

"You're lookin' for something, friend. I can see it in your eyes."

Quick rundown, Mike. Her name is Kylie, the creature is Dib, she knows TONS of things and plays a teasing truthful game. Play in kind? Or mess it up?

I gestured towards the 'doorway' and a wall appeared. Another set of gestures made plush seats for all of us, along with a stout, dark wooden table. Sitting down, I invited Nessi and our 'guests' to do the same.

Why Nessi, dearest head-mate, let's have the most delightful messed up game.

She squeezed my hand before she sat down, and both of us stared at Kylie in turn. Her grin had faltered slightly at my casual use of magic, but she remained outwardly undisturbed otherwise.

"You are absolutely right, Kylie. Please have a seat with your companion, Dib." I again waved a hand towards the plush, almost sofa-like chair beside the red-haired, tailed woman and her shoulder-riding, small animal companion. "I welcome the opportunity to find new things and meet new friends."

She sat, with Kylie's grin taking on a much more cautious edge. Up close, her pale skin contrasted rather sharply against the blue-black leather that tightly hugged most of her sinewy body. Her small, oval face was accented by large blue eyes and a white scar over her left brow, which was pierced by a small golden hoop.

Kylie's tail spread beside her legs as she settled down, while the furry Dib climbed off her shoulder and settled onto the backrest behind her.

Another gesture made a large bowl of assorted fruits, nuts and berries show up on the table between us. Unlike earlier, the duo facing Nessi and myself did not even blink at the action. I allowed myself a small twist of my lips.

This is going to be fun, I thought.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Nessi (and Ivan Pavlov) had the inspiration for the 'incentive' method we used. A large pile of copper coins was placed in the center of the table. Whenever Kylie said something true or helpful, coins were put on her side. When it was the complete truth, to the best of her ability, more were added. Nessi hovered her hand over the larger pile whenever Kylie knew something more but was not talking about it. Both me and Kylie realized that early on. As time went on, the coin piles slightly shrunk as they were rotated from copper through silver and gold before finally settling on platinum.

On the other hand, lots of coins were taken away when she said a deliberate half-truth, lied or excessively stalled while knowing the answer. It only took a few of those 'mistakes' before she completely stopped any further attempts along those lines.

Our talk went on long enough that she requested to go out and reassure her 'friends' that she was alright. That brief excursion went with no problems, as Kylie was visibly relieved to know that she actually would be allowed out and that the coins existed outdoors. A much larger and more genuine grin accompanied her back to the table.

Kylie was incredibly helpful given our 'financial incentive program.' While she wasn't anything close to a scholar or learned expert, she was a red-headed mistress of the city streets and knew it very well.

Apart from being a visible distraction - her form fitting apparel and tail contributed to such, with Nessi's elbows helping to stabilize myself - she gave us a rough overview of the city and people in it. Nessi quietly added in clarifying details from Kylie's mind that she was too reluctant to share, even with the incentives of large coinage.

The city itself was a demi-plane, shaped like a donut, or torus, with all the buildings on the inside. It was maintained by creatures called 'dabuses', who spoke with illusionary symbols to each other and people in general. All those dabuses were servants of the Lady of Pain, the quiet, powerful and deadly ruler and the one who controlled all the portals here.

This place went by a number of names, with the formal one being Sigil, and others being the City of Doors, the Birdcage or simply the Cage. It was explained as being the center of a multi-verse of its own - which gave me an inner squee of glee - and a hub to reach everywhere through. Sigil had masses of portals to other planes, which could be permanent or very temporary, with most of them requiring a 'portal key' to activate. Portal keys could be anything from a thought held in mind to a piece of garbage.

Those that live here are called 'cagers.' A number of other slang references went by me without noticing, as I think the automatic nature of the communication protocols translated them. Sigil was safe enough in general, with the Lady making this place an enforced neutral ground. This 'truce space' was so powerful that beings that would normally kill each other on sight, such as infernal demons and celestial angels, interacted civilly with each other.

Some of the more hostile things of the city include the Hive, a slum like region, cranium rats - vermin that can get stronger in groups, two-headed Aoskian hounds, executioner's ravens, and the ever-growing razorvine. Criminal offenders could be executed, flayed alive by the Lady or sent to a personal prison demi-plane, called a 'maze.' Regular policing was often done by patrols of the Harmonium faction. On the other hand, bribes were called 'garnishes' and well used throughout Sigil.

Time and brightness are closely linked to each other in Sigil. Peak is the six brightest hours while antipeak is the darkest. There are no formals hours, just references to before or after those 'peaks.' The four cardinal poles don't exist here, instead using directions relative to the spire, contained within the center of the 'donut', and the wards. The wards are of the Lady's, Lower, Clerk's, Guildhall and Market, with the Hive being its own section.

The core population consists of the dabuses, humans, githzerai, bariaur, tieflings, elves, dwarves, gnomes and halflings. Visitors include fiends, often from the eternal Blood War, aasimon, slaadi, modrons and many more. Long term residents typically introduce themselves by their name, faction, and ward instead of the generalized description of a 'cager.' Kylie, for instance, was a member of the Free League, the 'Indeps,' and tied down to no one particular location. She had a number of touts that worked with her. Couriers, light boys, sedan walkers and touts are the message deliverers, illumination providers, walking taxis and street guides, respectively.

There were over a dozen major factions in Sigil. The most notable ones are the Athar (the Lost), the Believers of the Source, the Bleak Cabal, the Doomguard, the Dustmen (the Dead), the Fated, the Fraternity of Order (Guvners), the Free League (Indeps), the Harmonium, the Mercykillers, the Revolutionary League, the Sign of One, the Society of Sensation, the Transcendent Order, and the Xaositects. Other groups and organizations that caught my ears and didn't quite reach up to full-on faction status are the Collectors, who gather and sell corpses; the Anarchs, rulers and masters of the chaos-stuff of Limbo; the Gleaners, focused on acquiring any and all magical devices for safekeeping and study; the Order of the Book, gatherers of every single spell from every single place; and the Planar Cartographic Society, who are focused on exploration and mapping. Some of them have leaders and some don't, either based in Sigil or not.

Once the general information was done being covered, it was time for more specifics. Another gesture refilled the large bowl between us all with more fruit, nuts and berries. Kylie had a small pile of platinum coins in front of her at this time and was making an admirable effort at looking nonchalant about it.

"Thank you for the giving us such an extensive introduction to Sigil, Kylie." I leaned back in my over-sized brown leather chair, grabbing a handful of nuts on the way. "I'm more interested in some specifics at the moment. People, places, things. Perhaps I haven't exhausted all your knowledge yet?" I quirked an eyebrow her way and waited, chewing on my snacks.

"Maybe." A raised eyebrow was returned my way as she said that now very familiar refrain. "...Tomorrow?" She tapped the pile of coins in front of her with a neatly trimmed but otherwise unadorned fingernail.

A reference to how some Fae gold disappears after a day. She probably still doubts it - platinum coins are very high value here, Nessi shared her thoughts with me. Might be good to break them into lower denominations. Or at least offer it.

"A full day - of course." I gestured with my head to her coin pile. "Did you want that in gold or silver?"

She shook her head in the negative, mushroom cap of red hair shifting with the movement.

"Only a plain purse wanted, friend, if you have 'em." Her one eyed furry companion had moved to her lap during our talks, and she was absently petting him. Dibs had his black and white patterned tail twitching as he watched Lionheart. My kitten buddy barely moved more than his eyelids the entire time.

After thinking for a few moments, I Conjured up a pocket-style brown leather purse with a matching simple, fixed-length strap. Staring at the blue-black getup of Kylie, I made another one that matched the colour, with a more complex wrapped cord strap. I then bundled it in some waxed paper, tied with twine.

"A gift, Kylie." I pushed both of them over to her, and watched as she tucked the platinum coins away. With only a few other pleasantries exchanged between the three of us, she confidently wished us all the best and was soon out the door. I banished the coins on the table once she was out of sight. It looked like the 'black danger' warning associated with the Gate had disappeared - at least for now.

I could see a few odd people passing by, along with buildings on the other side of the street. Both the living and the fixed in place were an eclectic mix. Spikes and metal played a large part in construction materials.

I'm all but certain that this Lady of Pain is the one who put that portal here, I thought, waving towards the open doorway. It seems that as long as we play her game, everything will be fine. However, seeing as how she doesn't even talk to people, that might be... Problematic.

I had the same idea from the instant she was mentioned. Trawling through Kylie's memories turned up a lot more related to the Lady. She is responsible for completely eliminating two factions and killing a god, here in Sigil. There is also mention of a 'fallen' dabus who goes by the name of Fell. Depending on what Ziz recommends, we should have him at least step into here for a quick chat. We also need to check if there are obvious 'blind spots' to her precognition abilities. No telling what kind of high level powers are floating around here.

Agreed. Time to close up until tomorrow? I draped my arm over her closest one while remaining attentive on the open doorway. Before she could answer, a group of three very different beings stepped through the door. One looked like a horse-sized centaur ant, who had to duck to enter, the next was a human-looking man with slightly pointed ears - perhaps indicative of something like an elven heritage? - and the last was a thin built, pale yellow skinned humanoid with flat profile nostrils in place of a nose.

Before any of them could speak, I invited them in further.

"Welcome to my humble abode!" A waved hand both changed the seat that Kylie was sitting in to a couch and invited them to sit on it.

Looking stunned for a few moments, they slowly shuffled forward and sat down. The pointy eared man was about to put his legs up on the table when the pale yellow-skinned lady gave him a glare. The centaur-ant situated himself beside the couch, next to her.

Besides me, Nessi let out a sigh.

The centaur-ant is a male formian named Phyton. He is one of the elite members of his former society of blob-like queen-led beings from the plane of Mechanus. The pointy ear man is in fact a half-elf, named Sken Leafwood. He is a bard and a member of the Society of Sensation. The last one is Tcha, a female githyanki from the Astral plane and an Athar. All of them are professional builders and work together as a group called 'Stone and Cog.' She squeezed my hand. They are also technically our working neighbours, as the Gate appeared on the outer wall of their business.

I squeezed her hand in return. No messing around except a tiny tiny bit this time. Let me know if Ziz prompts you or anything, alright, head-mate?

Of course, Mike-ster!

"Hi there. What can I do for my neighbours, the esteemed builders Stone and Cog?" It looks like I short-circuited their opening line of conversation. It probably went along the lines of 'do you know where you are?' and 'are you going to pay us rent?' and so on. I stroked Lionheart a few times while I waited. He only made a few murmurs before quieting again.

"Are you aware of how you came to be here?" The githyanki, Tcha, seemed to be the unofficial spokesperson for the trio.

"Sure," I replied with an easy smile. "I was minding my own business, wandering throughout the space between the worlds in my lovely magical house, when -"

STOP! Do NOT use her name! Ziz was frantic about it! Nessi's mental shout blared throughout my head.

I fake coughed a few times to cover-up my sudden silence.

"When this doorway," I gestured towards the opening on the wall, filling it with a block of contrasting stone yet again, "appeared out of nowhere. It seems stable, and I'm doing my best to get settled into the fine city of Sigil." I brought my hands together and smiled at the three, ensuring eye contact was made. "Did I hit all the highlights? I had a lovely guest in earlier brief me about this place."

They made agreeable noises among each other briefly, with Tcha speaking up again.

"Do you have any particular plans for your stay in Sigil? Anything lucrative?" Her almost claw-like nails tapped on her legs as she spoke. Tcha was dressed - if such a word could be used - in strips of many coloured cloth wrapped all over her body.

"That depends on you three. Would you be interested in working with someone who could make copies of every single type of building material for you?" I punctuated each word with a column of material behind me. Marble, basalt, crystal, glass, and more. I obviously did not make anything grey or based around granite, but hardly deemed it necessary in light of the shocked expressions on their faces. Waving at the table in front of me, I made three sets of small pick-axes. "Please take samples if you want. I have my own interests but would be greatly appreciative of friendly neighbours and landlords taking care of any legal or administrative issues that might crop up."

Tcha is the most familiar with what you just demonstrated. She is a 'mlar,' an architect of magic, who literally thought into creation different houses and structures.

In line with what Nessi was mentally communicating, the green skinned woman was looking at me rather pointedly. I didn't know if it was to tie me up and torture out my secrets, or just tie me up and... No, not going there. Maybe she just wanted money.

She handed Phyton, the centuar-ant formian, the pick nearest him and turned back to me. Phyton went to the first column and started tapping at it with the pick, eventually chipping off a few pieces and moving to the next. He put them in a double saddle-side styled backpack that he wore, the one piece of clothing or accessories, apart from an elaborate bronze open-faced helmet, that he wore. Sken, the half-elf, seemed bored with the whole exchange. He just looked around the room, often coming back to focus on Nessi.

Annoying.

"I believe we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement...?"

I again received a warning message from Ziz, courtesy of Nessi. Seems like aliases will be the name of the game, once again.

"Please, just call me Rainbow Umbrella." I smiled at the still seated pair, perhaps slightly less so at the staring Sken. "Would you be willing to share more than your business name?"

This time, Tcha made what sounded like an apologetic cough.

"I am Tcha, a githyanki and Athar." She indicated herself, then pointed out the next two. "The half-elf is Sken Leafwood, a Sensate, and the formian myrmarch is Phyton." The centaur-ant had finished sampling the columns by the time she mentioned his name. He returned to the couch side nearest her and gave Tcha a very obvious nod. It Looked like the columns qualified as real.

"I'm glad to meet you all." With the ice being broken, I started the most obvious topic - their work. "What are some of the most exotic jobs you've done... Tcha?" At the last instant, I directed the inquiry from the group of three to the lone githyanki.

"Working as a mlar, I had..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Wait a second. Hold up here! They have MAGIC STRONGHOLDS in this multi-verse!

I interrupted Phyton's talk about insectoid structures in Arcadia with some brief coughing.

"Sorry, please don't mind me. Once you finish, though, I have something I'd like to bring up."

The formian nodded, bronze helm glinting in the room's light. He stared off into the distance before continuing.

"It was a side room for twenty three formian workers. The main hall was supposed to feature a complex waterway that fed into all the other rooms, but the stone types involved had scared off the others skilled in construction. I was able to do it by virtue of being the only one that could. That didn't stop me from excelling. The myrmarch was extremely pleased, and was a good source of recommendations for further work." He folded his three fingered hands together and gave me a nod, indicating his completion.

If I even need any buildings made for sapient giant insects, I'll ask Phyton first.

I looked among the three members of Stone and Cog, followed by Nessi. I hope I won't come across as absolutely clueless. For all I know, magic filled strongholds could be a dime a dozen.

"Could you tell me about... Magical strongholds?" I mentally cross my fingers, hoping that they don't laugh at me or something.

"Expensive," Sken, the half-elf, said. "Mostly done by the extremely rich. Not that much call for them in the Cage, given the whims of the dabuses and... You know."

We all nodded.

"We do the odd piece of enchanted rooms or something, but most of our work is just smart mechanics or engineering." He shrugged. "Lighting, the odd bit of security... The other planar metropolises probably have bigger markets for it, like the City of Brass. Of course, if you aren't an efreet, it might be very expensive."

"But you can do them, right?"

"Sure." Sken's words were followed by the others sounds and gestures of agreement.

"I'd like to test something out in my little magic house here. What would you say are some of the least expensive stronghold enchantments?"

The three of them talked among each other for a short while before the half-elf spoke up again.

"Probably the two simplest ones would be a room of reading enchantment, that allows any literate creature to automatically be able to read magical inscriptions, as per the read magic spell, and invisible helper, which makes a permanent unseen servant tied to a single area and can not leave it. It's fragile, too - if it ever gets killed, it is gone forever. The first runs at seven hundred and fifty gold, will the later is about fifteen hundred."

I Conjured up a simple leather string purse underneath the table, filled with gold pieces, and dropped it in front of them.

"Here is three thousand gold pieces. If you can get ready to install both those enchantments tomorrow, I'll throw in another thousand."

"Sold!" Tcha nabbed the purse before anyone on her side could offer objections. She discretely weighed it and peeked inside, holding it under the level of the table.

After that bit of excitement, our conversations winded down. Nessi convinced them to loan us a sample material kit before they left.

Tomorrow is going to be a very interesting day.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Monday, July 2nd, 2012 (E.B.)

I had pleaded with Nessi to escort the Stone and Cog group back to the front room that opened to Sigil just moments ago. I didn't want her to see what my reactions would be if this long shot was a failure.

I stood in front of a freestanding, open doorway, wood plank walled room. It was inside a much larger metal walled room, a space created by myself. This wooden room was enchanted with the room of reading and invisible helper effects. Nessi and the other three had verified it for me, multiple times.

Staring at that little wooden room I couldn't help but feel hungry, in a 'I'm a genius loci and I'm going to om nom nom you' kind of way. With nary I thought, I sunk up to my ankles into the floor of my own room and began the Subsuming process.

As I watched, the wooden room slowly sunk into the floor, aided by an ooze-like enveloping from the supposedly 'solid' metal below it. At the halfway in point, it was completely covered. I waited until it was utterly gone, with no traces whatsoever remaining.

Mentally crossing my fingers yet again, I willed an invisible servant to appear and... It did. I could tell by the faintest ripples in the air. Holding back my cautious glee, I willed for two more, who appeared swiftly thereafter.

Still remaining with my feet sunk into the ground, I put my arms out to either side and spoke.

"First summoned servant, hold my right hand with both of yours." I wiggled it carefully and watched as it was slowly pressed between two near invisible hands. I repeated the same process for my left hand, equally successful. "Third summoned servant, place both your hands, palm first, on my upper back." It was again successful.

Then I willed them all to disappear. They did. I repeated the same thing as before with the same results.

This is so incredibly epic, I thought.

The applause of the invisible servants, my maniacal laughter and screams of "YESSS!" were interrupted by Nessi's thoughts. Lionheart added to the medley of noise with plentiful meows.

The trio of Cog and Stone are wondering what is going on. I had to bring them some food. Are you coming or what?

I'll be right out!

With that thought, I mentally dismissed all the invisible servants to disappear and power walked out to the front area. It was the same setup as yesterday, though with more filled and empty food dishes on the center table. The expressions of the trio were hard to read, as I genuinely had no clue in regards to formian or githyanki species. Sken, at least, was readable, and his face demonstrated bored amusement combined with interest towards Nessi. Annoying.

I sat down across from them in my earlier seat, making sure that my massive smile was stopped at human limits.

"My apologies for the wait. My little experiment was a lot more successful than I expected and I was... Celebrating that."

"What does that mean for us, then, Rainbow Umbrella?" Tcha asked me. "Nessi had us wait for you, so I assume there is more work planned...?" The green of her eyelids was shown as she blinked after speaking.

"Yes, very much so. If you could please gather up a list of every single possible stronghold enchantment, enhancement, bonus, feature and so on and bring it here," I began, looking among the three as I spoke, "I will start the process of making you three incredibly rich and myself incredibly happy."

Sken snorted and let out a brief laugh.

"I knew it!" He exclaimed. "Phyton, can you bring out the books?"

The formian opened up his saddle-styled bags and placed a few tomes on the table. They ranged from nearly pristine to falling apart at the edges.

Wow. This is a lot of material. Any help, head-mate?

I've already gone through them and picked out the sections you'd prefer and are needed. Just follow my prompts for each book, head-mate, Nessi thought into our shared head-space.

We exchanged a pair of mental smiles as I picked up the nearest text.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After what seemed like hours of talking and reading, Tcha roughly summarized what we had agreed on.

"For your one single room that is stuffed to the gills with enchantments - and other cheap wooden rooms beside it, if they are needed - comes to about one point nine million gold pieces. That would include you supplying materials and some building golems. It would take a bit under four years to build."

"That is ridiculous and unacceptable," I replied.

"We can't go any lower with the price -"

I cut off the githyanki with some waving gestures.

"No, no, no - I don't care about the cost. I meant the construction time. Anything you can do to shorten it?"

The three of them talked quietly among themselves, pulling out some papers and quills to go over the figures. I absently petted Lionheart during this time, removing him from my head first. It was rather telling that none of the Stone and Cog group did more than blink at the kitten atop of me.

My fuzzy wuzzy little guy is the cutest, I thought.

Tcha again acted as the spokesperson.

"We estimate that a total of seventy percent of the total time can be cut off, making it about one year and a month or so."

I hung my head in despair and groaned quietly, eyes shut. Straightening up, I carefully replaced Lionheart on my head and ensured the front 'door' was closed - it was - and spoke once more.

"I don't think you all really get it. No objections to transporting us all to my personal vault?"

Sken looked excited, but the other two were unreadable as before. After a very brief exchange between the three, they agreed.

"Now, if everybody can hold hands please..."

Nessi joined me in the act, taking my left hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I ended up with Sken's, and was not in the slightest disappointed that it wasn't Tcha's.

With my eyes closed and head bowed, I began to mumble.

"Unnecessary teleportation mumbling... Unnecessary teleportation mumbling... These words are red herrings... Blah blah blah... Gibberish..." I could only stand a few more seconds of it before I teleported us all to my 'show' vault.

Designed to be flashy for emperors of galactic empires, I had not skimped in the slightest. The whole room was shaped like a domed cylinder, with the curvature on top. The floor was covered in precious coins of all types, mixed with small and large chests, jewellery, and various worked and ingot forms of precious metals. The walls and ceiling were layered with gem mosaics, using platinum and gold for definition and edging. The biggest source of light was at the apex of the dome, a simply huge chandelier composed almost solely of diamonds, ringed with gems of all the other colours.

However, what was impressive was not the contents, but the sheer size of the place. It was roughly ten kilometers in diameter and a kilometer in height, with a bit of an artificial curve added to suggest a horizon on a small planet. About a third of that height was below us, composed solely of coins and small precious gems. I had spent quite a long time filling it, Conjured items pouring off me like a high pressure hose and the enchanted equivalents of mass duplicators doing the rest.

Sken was already rolling around on the ground, laughing, while throwing coins up into the air. Tcha looked up at him disapprovingly for a few moments, but he failed to keep her attention as she looked around. Phyton seemed frozen. Perhaps I had overloaded the dear formian, myrmarch or no.

Nessi was peering at the centaur-like ant while I spread my arms and shouted, aimed away from the trio.

"Money is not an issue! Time is!" I faced them again. "Can we go back and talk like civilized beings now? Have I proven my point?"

Tcha nodded at me, mute. Sken was still on the ground, but he was panting now, exerted with his efforts.

"Phyton? You okay over there?" I asked the bronze helmed formian. "Sorry if it startled you. Grab any one thing that can fit inside your saddlebags as an apology, okay?"

With those words, the previously stilled centaur-ant sprung into action, eyes scanning the coin-based ground around us. With a minor grunt of effort, he pulled out a faceted diamond about the size of his head and carefully placed it into one of his side bags. With that done, he rejoined us.

"Thank you, Rainbow Umbrella."

"You're welcome. Just be careful where you sell or keep that, alright?"

He waved off my words of caution with his three fingered insectoid hand. Moving into place, we all connected with each other as before. I went through a slightly different bunch of gibberish words and teleported us to the front room again.

We reseated ourselves as before. Sken had a the widest grin on his face.

"I'd like to start over again. Given unlimited funds, how close can you get to a ninety nine point nine percent reduction in labour time - when the workers will be locked in the area, brought to it and back without knowing where they are going, have everything supplied, done with as close to perfect secrecy as possible and nobody dying on site. I don't care if they have to build platinum golems every single day anew."

"To top it off," I began, "the exact same total amount you need to spend on subcontracting the work will be given to you as one quarter gratuity and the rest as down payment for more work."

Phyton collapsed. Sken started laughing like mad. Tcha, on the other hand, was completely still apart from her hand the held a shaking quill. It dropped soon after.

When they finally recovered into some semblance of sanity, the githyanki woman slowly scrawled an estimate on a scrap of parchment and pushed it to me. The Stone and Cog trio seemed to be holding their breath as they waited for my reply.

Much better.

"Excellent. I approve."

They all broke out into various forms of self-congratulatory praise.

"If you can have a discreet, magically enforced contract signer show up tomorrow, I'll pass over an advance deposit. I'd also like as many forms of magical and otherwise esoteric protections, wards and defences as you can find. If you could get those by late tomorrow, it would be much appreciated." I turned to my beloved head-mate, still in her hard light, holographic disguise. "I miss anything, Nessi?"

She put on an act of thoughtful thinking for a few moments before replying.

"I'd also like to see an expanded material sample kit. Every single one known among the multi-verse would be ideal, but not expected." She looked from myself to the trio, smile lighting up her face. "If you could bring it before the contract signer arrives, it would be great."

By that point, none of us had really anything more to say. The trio left grateful, but not excessively so, and we settled down again. The door was unsealed for their exit and shut again right after.

What are the odds it will get leaked before a week is up?, I mentally asked Nessi.

We'd be lucky if it lasts three days, Mike-ster.

I hope those magical defences coming tomorrow are potent. Has Ziz indicated anything about whether sending protective invisible drones after the trio is okay or not? I turned to face her, relieved to see the disguise gone once more.

I'm getting the impression of 'go ahead,' with the caveat that they not be directly controllable. Subtle self-destruct is a given, of course. The pale blue metallic gloss of Nessi's face met my own with a slight smile.

Already knowing the templates were at the forefront of my mind, I Conjured up six of them. They faded into invisibility soon after, no doubt to give me a chance to view them first. They each looked like floating blue baseballs. I'm sure that their internal functions were far more impressive then their appearance would suggest.

With a brief removal of the door blocker and some very careful attention to my danger sense, all six drones quietly headed outside. We would not know how they fared until they reported in, according to their semi-randomized daily schedule.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dinner was done buffet style. Jessica and Silla still didn't have much to do and were often spending time with the Guardians, or holed up in their suite. Ziz kept her white wings fluttering around me almost the whole time, while the four Taylors kept on enthusing about the formian species to anyone that would listen. She was so excited about them that I received a four-person hug when I first saw her, earlier.

A Taylor was repeating herself again to me, while I enjoyed her energetic expressions with a slight smile.

"They are basically ants. The centaur ant concept isn't that far off. They are a highly expansionist species, typically attacking all non-formians. Phyton, as social and individual as he is, is an exception. They are mostly kept under sway of an immobile queen who has a telepathic control radius of fifty miles."

I used the Taylor's small breathing break to chug down some chocolate ice-cream milkshake while refilling Lionheart's bowl of goulash. A meow of thanks was my recognition for the task.

"Other members of the divided species range from being incapable of conversation to telepathy." Her the glow in her expression faded somewhat upon her next comments. "Apart from being violently expansionist, they also mentally dominate and enslave other species."

In this lull I reached over and gave her a half hug. Her long, slightly curled brunette hair briefly obscured her face until she brushed it away.

"This multi-verse has some horrible things mixed with the angelic, Mike." She leaned her head against mine. "Even a few trillion drones won't do much, unless you intend to be some sort of planar conquerer." I kept silent, and she peered at me from the corner of her eyes. "You aren't planning that, are you?"

I gave her another brief squeeze.

"No. I'll aim to do the best I can without going overboard. When you think about this multi-verse having beings on the scope of the Lady here, simple brute force won't solve everything." I let out a long sigh. "They literally have the very hells and heavens that dead people go to as locations you can visit while still alive. It's insane."

I kept on talking quietly to her, with Ziz's wings now draping over us both the odd time.

"You want to do anything about those formians, Tay?"

She sighed, settling closer to me.

"Ideally, we could just disappear them all. But then there would be questions, and the answers would lead straight to us. Even something as simple as arranging for one of the queens to have an 'accident' would likely cause more chaos than peace." She didn't say anything for a while. "Start with passing one of those queens through a Gate tunnel for a power assessment, then check to see if I could take over a colony or two. Avoid the actual gods while doing it."

"Even if I did take over a colony, what then? Keep them in your Domain? It would have the same result as if they were all killed, to the world at large."

We stayed quiet at the table side. The only interruption was a meow from Lionheart for more food, which I complied with.

"I got it!" The Taylor beside me stiffened slightly. "A collective uplifting - some sort of transformational, mutating process that gives them more discrete intelligence and curbs their excesses." She continued with some thinking noises.

It didn't sound that bad, actually.

"Run a few options through Ziz and see what comes up. I'll do a long-term split reality precognition for your best idea, and we can see how it turns out. Though... Taylor."

"Hmm? Mike?"

"I haven't even tried to make another Gate since we got here. I'm hoping everything is fine as long as I leave the front one alone, but... Nothing is certain."

"Shit."

My thoughts exactly.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tuesday, July 3rd, 2012 (E.B.)

Kylie showed up in what she considered a 'day later,' though by what stretch of imagination she defined a day I did not know. I had no want or need to press the issue, now that she was here. Thanks to Nessi's trawling of the red-head's memories, we knew what sort of questions to ask. She was most valuable as a mobile fixer in Sigil, rather than a informational resource in itself.

The basic specific questions I had wanted to ask her the first time were already supplied by Nessi and the Stone and Cog trio. Our 'doorway' was located on the building of Stone and Cog Construction, off of Astoria Road. The building was next to the Builders' Fellowship Guildhall, part of the Gymnasium District, which was in turn part of the Guild Hall ward. We were very close to the Market Ward - some buildings down the street already qualified.

Over the course of the last day, I had found out - to my sheer delight! - that I was able to 'copy' magical items that ran through the portal-scanner, such as Kylie's sword and earring. They worked with my personal Enchanting abilities of 'combining' similar items and I was also able to 'split' out qualities, alter the item - which still retained the enchantment - and combine it with something else. The only downturn was something Ziz passed my way courtesy of Nessi. Specifically, the two enchantment styles are incompatible. If I stacked a bunch of effects onto an item or I simply even pulled out a quality or two and a magic user here tried to enchant it further ... Bad things would happen. Same idea with any of my enchantments, really. Anything beyond a normal, non-magical item of mine was incapable of receiving any further enchantments from this multi-verses' brand of magic.

Truth be told, my process would be ideal for pulling out curses and bad side effects from otherwise worthy items. I'd have to keep an eye out for artifacts and the like.

All this had brought us to our current situation. Nessi, Kylie, Dibs, Lionheart and myself were sitting in the same places as the first time we had all gathered here. The snack bowl had already been lightly sampled as the much more well-spirited red-head smirked at the pair of us. Truth be told, she reminded me vaguely of Lisa, from Earth Bet.

"So, as I was saying, I'm looking for a fixer of sorts - someone who can arrange or introduce me to a large scale magical item supplier, item enchanter and summoner. Do you know anyone like that?" The usage of a more direct question came with the hope that this time she would not reply with a variation of 'maybe.'

Her attitude had lifted substantially since we parted, likely due to her finding out the coins I passed her way had not disappeared. The blue-black pocket style purse I gave her was already being worn in place of the plain brown leather one. Dibs, her furry companion, was yet again staring at Lionheart with interest. My beloved doom kitten didn't even reply with blinks this time, from his perch upon my shoulder.

"Maybe, Rainbow Umbrella. Maybe I do..." She let loose the name I had only given to the Stone and Cog trio with the expectation of somehow fazing me, I'm sure. It didn't work. She also absent-mindedly circled the very tiny pile of silver coins in front of her. It appears that I had drastically overpaid her the first time, and now she was seeking to draw out a like amount of finances from myself. Even though I could very literally create money from nothing, I didn't want to make a habit of it.

I allowed myself a long, drawn out sigh as I stared at the thin-built, spike tailed tiefling.

"Look. Kylie. We all know that I overpaid you the first time we met. Consider it a lucky finder's fee for coming to us first. I don't want to be an endless handout supplier here." I took a deep breath and stared into her large, blue eyes. "You can consider it a monthly service fee. A regular payment for access to all that you know and your informal 'friend' network - if you can drop certain little games." I indicated the pile of silver coins she was still circling with her fingers with my head and waited.

It didn't take long. She smoothly cleared the table of those coins, placing them into her purse, and gave me a much more relaxed smile.

"I'll look forward to our chats and monthly visits then, friend." She stroked Dibs a few times before spreading her arms across the back of her over-sized chair. "I happen to know a person who'd perfectly fit. A gargoyle, goes by the name of Suplindh. He is an agent and broker with extensive contacts throughout the planes, a large number of wizards among them. He specializes in meeting unique needs by juggling a bunch of different requirements all together. Sound like your kinda guy?"

"Yes indeed, Kylie." I emphasized my agreement with a slight nod. "If you could arrange to have him visit later today or tomorrow, please. Some way to contact you or your network would also be appreciated."

"Already taken care of, Rainbow. Just wave outside with a flash of red in your hands, and I'll know it and be by before the next peak time hits."

She probably has a tout or two staking out this place. Nessi confirmed that with me with the mental impression of a nod. Most of the details from Stone and Cog are probably already out as a result, and so would be the contract signer for us all, expected later today.

"Excellent. We'll keep in touch." I smiled at the red-head and her one-eyed furry sidekick. "Anything you wanted to request of me, while you were here?"

She made a few thoughtful noises but otherwise did not reply. After a shake of her head, she headed up to leave. With a wink, wave and a flick of her spiked tail, she disappeared out of sight.

That went rather well, finally, I mentally shared with Nessi.

Yes indeed, Mike-ster. Only thing more to do for today for sure involves Stone and Cog. It'll be interesting to see who they pick up as a contract witness, she silently replied the same way.

As I once more replaced the open doorway with a block of blue-black stone, I thought of doors and locks. I looked around the bare front room with a contemplative eye. It could use a lot of work, especially if we were going to be 'staying' here for any length of time.

I stood up, offering an elbow to the again disguise free Nessi. The familiar faint blue glow of her hair brought a smile to my lips and heart.

Right before we teleported back to my main lounge, I again inquired mentally between us.

Has Ziz confirmed anything about portal use, Nessi?

No such luck, head-mate. Everything related to portals pulls up a blatant 'blank' response, with the obvious exception of not messing with the front door portal in any way. The Lady here is one of the heaviest hitters in this multi-verse, so having her be immune to precognition is not surprising in the slightest.

I'll just do some cautious testing in a disposable time-line, then.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next few hours went by rather productively. With the encouragement, and likely desperate hopes of everyone else, I attempted the first set of Gates in a disposable time line. They were a simple paired set that looped into the same room. No problems resulted. The same trouble-free results occurred when I attempted to make a portal to the Astral Plane, relying on Tcha's memories as a reference point. I didn't dare attempt anything to the Sigil Gate itself, but placing a portal in that same room seemed to also be okay.

Everybody in the main time line was greatly relieved by the results, but I decided to keep in running for a while to make sure it was safe. Nobody objected.

A while later, a delivery person, accompanied by a pair of well-armed fighter escorts, dropped off a box that contained a number of protective enchantments. I spread them around the Sigil-side room after Nessi explained their purposes, but didn't feel well with such small scale efforts. I'd only feel really secure after I'd subsume the more permanent versions of the same things.

Nessi and myself were waiting in the front room again when the Stone and Cog trio entered, accompanied by what appeared to be a near bald, grey-haired human man. He had a slight middle bulge and wore blue-themed clothing, with some tasteful jewellery and a monocle finishing off his look. My head-mate filled me in on the details as I finished the once-over.

He is an advocate named Iannis, from the Clerk's Ward. Reputed to be very honest and his history mostly aligns with that. Only red flag is a recent fire at his place, destroying some very specific files. They are stored in his memory regardless. He might not have the highest level of security we need.

I passed some quiet mental thanks to Nessi once she finished.

"Welcome, all." I waved at the four standing near the doorway. "Please come in and have a seat." I gestured to large couch on the opposite side of the table. I had expanded it earlier in anticipation of them all coming, so there was plenty of room for each.

My neighbours made brief sounds of greeting, while the advocate was more formal.

"Hello, Rainbow Umbrella. I'm Iannis, an advocate from the Clerk's Ward." He offered his hand, and I stood up to shake it. We both sat down again before he spoke further. "The fine company here of Stone and Cog," he gestured to the three others by the couch, "had told me that you needed the services of myself to write a high level contract. Thank you for your interest."

I didn't reply right away, instead I made some small contemplative noises while staring at the advocate.

"You're welcome, Iannis. Thank you for coming here as well." Before he could get too self-congratulatory, I spoke further. "However, I have a concern in regards to yourself. There was a story about a small fire at your building. Presumably some files or something were destroyed...?"

I let the question trail off while I continued looking his way. Iannis adjusted his monocle, clearly embarrassed about the incident.

"Apart from knowing how you came across that bit of information, I can assure you my premises are quite secure."

I sighed, shaking my head.

"Not good enough." I prevented him from speaking further by clarification of what I meant. "The trio of Stone and Cog here are well versed in defensive building enchantments. I am prepared to give you a very large advance for future work with myself, under the condition that you use it for greatly increasing the security of your premises and your personal defenses. I don't want the simplest mind reader to walk by you and get the details out." I pointed around the room at some of the wards I had received earlier in the day. "I consider those items just a temporary thing. I'd expect yourself, as a professional advocate, to have even higher levels."

With nary a reaction apart from an extra blink or two, he agreed with me.

"That sounds reasonable, Rainbow Umbrella." He paused. "How large of an advance would you be thinking of?"

I shrugged, leaning back into my over-sized, black leather chair. I gave my shoulder-mounted kitten a few pets before returning my focus to Iannis.

"We can start with a quarter million gold pieces." A few more blinks on the advocates part followed. "I've got some issues you should be able to help me with, and on your end, I'd like you to be proactive in solving them for me - before I even hear of them. For instance, I'd like to set up a shop of sorts here, as well as a few writs of citizenship. I'll trust that you can sort out everything except the final signatures, including the fees, from what I pay you."

"Of course. Thank you for your confidence, it is much appreciated." He placed a leather bound case onto the table, opening it, and spreading out a few sheets of parchment. "I already did a draft of your contract with Stone and Cog. The only thing missing is your signature and deposit - assuming you are agreeable to the terms." He pulled out a metallic quill and placed it beside them. In the absence of an ink bottle, it was obviously enchanted.

I did a quick visual scan of each page while sending an inquiring thought to Nessi.

Everything looks good on them, Mike-ster. Both the trio and the advocate don't want to ruin their chance to make this deal with some fancy loopholes.

"It looks fine, thank you." Relieved smiles from the other side followed, with Tcha's being more muted and Phyton's expressions unreadable, as always. "I'll just ink in the amount we agreed on earlier and you can all initial it...?" My question sent to Stone and Cog was answered with nods. Recalling the number from yesterday, I picked up the quill and wrote in all the specified places, each one clearly marked. The trio went over it, added in their signatures, and I did the same. Iannis signed it as a witness, but then looked at the amount and frowned.

"Unless we want to start filling up carriages with gold pieces, we'll need another way to transfer the amounts. Are you familiar with the Temples of Favours?"

I shook my head in the negative.

"Essentially, some god of wealth - whose name escapes me at the moment - has in the last century backed certain pieces of parchment called favours with the promise of spellcasting. Each note guarantees redemption in the form of a spell. However, they are used more as high value denomination currency instead. There are three types. The first is f1, sometimes called a psalm, worth one thousand gold pieces, f10, sometimes called a prayer, worth ten thousand, and f100, it in turn sometimes being called a benediction and, obviously, worth one hundred thousand."

The advocate settled back into the couch, letting me digest that bit of information.

"Iannis, I have my first official request of you. Please contact the local Temple of Favours and have the highest ranking - or largest currency decision maker - authority come by here for an assessment today. I'd like to make a rather large purchase of these 'favours,' but I don't think they will take me seriously unless I show them the state of my finances first." I raised an eyebrow at the half-elf, Sken, who was already smiling widely. It caused him to break out into laughter, which he quickly suppressed. Iannis looked at him briefly, while Tcha's black eyes glared at him longer.

"Of course." He gazed at the all the rest of us through his monocle. "Is there anything else?"

We all made various indications that that was not the case.

"Pardon, Rainbow Umbrella, would you be willing to offer an advance now in good faith?"

"No problem." I reached under the table and Conjured a plain brown, draw-string style leather purse, full of platinum coins. I placed it on the table in front of the advocate with a jingling sound. "Approximately a thousand platinum coins. Sufficient?"

He nodded, picked up the purse and tucked it into his clothes, out of sight.

With his business done here, Iannis bid us all a formal good bye and left. The Stone and Cog trio visibly relaxed when the sound of his footsteps had fully faded.

"Can you seal the door please, Rainbow?" Sken asked me in a stage whisper.

Bemused, I complied. The doorway was this time filled with a blackened stone. Getting up from the couch, the half-elf inspected the doorway and walked around the room. He peered at all the known defensive wards through a gem that he held up to his eye. After going through about a dozen of them, he stopped.

"Alright, we're good. They don't look like they've been tampered with." With those words, he went back to the couch and sat beside Tcha. With a cough and a gesture, he prompted her to speak. She blinked her sunken, black eyes at me a few times before doing so.

"There are a few details we didn't mention to the advocate," she began with a whisper, but slowly increased in volume until she was speaking normally. "We went through a massive list of contacts trying to find a workforce that would operate under your conditions: near unlimited financial supplies, extreme speed, self contained, secrecy and so on. The highest bid - in terms of time reduction - was an amazing offer that promised between a ninety seven and a half to ninety eight and a half percent reduction in build time."

The githyanki looked from side to side, as if still unsettled in this very room.

"We initially thought it was a trick, but the contract offered was amazing. Going through some of our personal savings, we had it audited by some of the most ruthless advocates we knew of. Everything checked out except one thing: completion requires full payment on the spot, or the builders reserve the right of property seizure and ourselves sold into slavery if forfeit."

She audibly swallowed.

"The only way we would ever consider it was by remembering your massive vault. We had earlier bought some mid-line protective pieces for ourselves," she pulled down a cloth strap covering her pale yellow skinned neck, revealing a woven gold choker, "but we are concerned about you now. This deal is big enough that we can all but expect many attempts to either clear out your finances or somehow corrupt them. Counterfeit favours from the temple would be a likely possibility, too."

Fantastic. While they stared at me in apprehension, I allowed a more than human grin to spread across my face.

"Excellent. I look forward to the entertainment." A slight edge of a rumbling growl emerged with the words. Seeing that I did little to soothe them, I explained further. "Don't worry about me. Everything you mentioned is something I'm prepared to counter. In fact... I have a fixer and agent called Suplindh coming. One of the more reputable and high end ones, or so I've heard. You're welcome to stay here until he shows up and can buy anything you want from him as sincere thanks."

Cutting off Sken's question before it even left his mouth, I elaborated on it.

"I'm deadly serious. You could even spend more than the entire contract is worth, if some suitable products exist and are worth it."

I watched the stunned trio in silence. It was soon followed by brief but heartfelt gratitude on their parts. They then all opted to stay, in case Suplindh showed up. I Conjured dinner for all of us and we had a relaxed meal. Nessi mostly talked to Phyton, attempting to get more details about his insectoid culture and construction methods, while I inquired further about Tcha's mlar speciality, the process of thought and magic based architecture.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Suplindh showed up before the Temple of Favours official did. He was a half-fiendish gargoyle, with his stony form decorated with a black spiny ridge that ran from the bridge of his nose up over his forehead and down his back. Despite what many would consider an unnerving appearance, he was a very personable fellow.

For security, he was accompanied by a gruff, heavily armoured male dwarf. Underneath his layers of enchanted scale mail, he simply grunted his name once when asked - Balzam.

The Stone and Cog trio arranged their purchases with Suplindh prior to me, leaving when I supplied a deposit and the deals were finalized. If nothing else, the gargoyle had already turned a profit for today. During the exchange, Nessi brought up the idea of a multi-planar material sample kit. The gargoyle threw it in with the other purchases as a gratuity.

He was sitting on a steel framed chair I had made especially for him. A minute or two after the trio left, he turned his friendly attention to Nessi and myself.

"Thank you for inviting me to your residence. It has already proven very beneficial." He gave a close-lipped smile to Nessi, who acknowledged it with a gracious nod. "Given that you supplied the earlier three with the deposit, I can imagine that your interests are far more... Expensive. Would that be correct, Rainbow Umbrella?" A tilt of his grey-green stony head accompanied the question.

"Absolutely, Suplindh. Very expensive." I favoured him with a smile of my own. "My interests lie in three fields, all equally profitable to you. The first is due to a special interest of mine - I want to analyze, for my very own self, an example of every single enchantment and degree of enchantment that exists or had existed at some point. Not every item, mind you, just the enchantment itself. Some items would likely qualify for multiple attributes. I'd simply take it to a back room, use my unique methods, and return it. It would take barely seconds for each item, regardless of the complexity. I'd pay for this service, of course."

He nodded in silence, the black spiny ridge on his head following the movements.

"The second is artifacts. While I'm aware that the Gleaners make acquiring such problematic, my interest lies in identification as well as the odd acquisition. Depending on the item in question, all I may desire is for it to pass through my hands on the way to that hoarding-based organization."

The gargoyle remained still. I imagined that he was very good at it.

"The third is a general catch-all for the exotic, expensive, strange and rare. As I can't obviously know what I don't know, I would leave that in your hands to decide what qualifies. Regardless of whether I buy it or not, I'd still pay you for the time and services rendered. I'd even buy the item if you simply want me to."

I stroked my chin in contemplation.

"How about... One, no... Ten million gold coins in advance credit, and you let me know whenever it goes below the half-way mark. I'm also interested in professional summoners, as I want to do the same sort of analysis for nearly every being in the multi-verse as well."

Suplindh finally broke his stillness and silence.

"Rainbow Umbrella, that was the best negotiation that I took the least amount of time in. It almost seems excessively weighted in my favour." His head tilted to the side again, curious.

"Of course, Suplindh. I am in a position in my life that I have an excess of wealth but a shortfall of time. If you truly think I'm being generous, you aren't working fast enough." I gave him a grin while he replied with a deep, rumbling laugh.

The gargoyle gestured to his dwarven arms-man.

"Balzam! One of your weapons, please." Without a word, the armoured dwarf handed over a small hand-axe. Suplindh offered it to me. "Honoured Rainbow Umbrella, if you would be so kind as to demonstrate your assessment ability?"

"Absolutely."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Before they left, I was kept uncertain as to whether it was me correctly identifying the type of pick that mined the ore to make the hand-axe, or the demonstrations of the exact angle, position and force applied to the last dozen targets of Balzam. The filling of his summoned chest with platinum coins did less to phase him.

Nessi refused to spoil the details for me and I remained in mystery. It was an extremely refreshing sensation, ignorance. Not that I'd want it in regards to things that truly mattered in my Domain, but having some more of 'life's little mysteries' kept that way helped engage my mind and interest in the world. A different take on things, as compared to total omnipotent awareness within my little slice of reality.

One of the high authorities of the Temple of Favours arrived less than a hour later. He, along with his quasi-henchmen acolytes and the comedy of errors that followed, fulfilled so many stereotypes it was better to list the experience as a checklist. I'm glad that I already prepared a 'lesser vault' - a hallway filled with flat-topped chests, each full of coins, in walking distance of the front room. It made the whole thing go smoother and quicker.

Fat, pompous, extravagant man wearing tons of jewellery? Check.

Glowering, Neanderthal like henchmen, staring and grunting, hands on their weapons? Check.

A personality of arrogance switched to simpering in an instant with the presence of reams of wealth? Check.

Blatant attempts at requests for bribes? Check.

It kept on going. A nearly massive parade of large chests, each carried by a set of four heavy-set acolytes and the same amount of guards. The 'accidental' arrival of an entire case of false favour parchments. The groveling apologies, paired with attempts at extorting bribes from me. The further 'accidental' arrival of counterfeit favours, this time mixed in with the real ones. Genuine groveling apologies as I began to loudly start to talk about counterfeits by the front door.

Every single one happened.

The one I liked the best, though... It was when another high authority of the Temple of Favours came, ripped off the pompous windbag's clerical robes and jewellery, and sent him running down the street in his small clothes. After a brief but polite apology, another small parade of sorts gathered in and around my lesser vault and the street outside. They audited every single favour parchment, one by one, verifying their authenticity.

With that done, the polite high cleric offered his contact information and I requested that he pass it on to my advocate.

I had successfully transferred reams of gold coins into much smaller stacks of fancy parchment.

I'll be leaving the door open, and the walkway clear, straight to the lesser vault tonight. Some brief talks with my Guardians, a little bit of spatial warping and Gate positioning in the front room, and everything was set.

Flies, come to my honey trap. Buzz, buzz, buzz.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Append to Sanctum's Notepad:

- Find out what the Lady of Pain wants me to do. Somehow.

- Get tons of stronghold enchantments done and OM NOM NOM them.

- Wait for Suplindh's orders to come in. All those rare items, materials, artifacts, enchantments, and so on!

- Get a list of planar locations I could open Gates to.

- Where is that professional summoner? Seriously.

0.3 - "Captain of My Soul"

Tuesday, July 24th, 2012 (Earth Bet calendar) - Sigil

It was a good crop of flies that had been gathered in the last three weeks. My honey trap had been more successful than I hoped. Too successful, to admit the truth. Kylie had passed on to me that the rumours around my place was that is was built on the hoard of an ancient draconic lich, who ate the souls and animated the bodies of all that stole from me. It became a sort of secret challenge, passed among the criminals and elites of the underworld. The overall quality and complexity of the individual thieves kept on rising, especially when high level divination spells aimed at the invaders pointed out that they are all alive.

On a more realistic front, news about my inquires to Suplindh has reached many ears, and not a single day goes by without some person popping in and waving a magic item around, claiming it is unique, rare or otherwise especially valuable. They were rarely right. However, the fact that a few were right was enough to continually encourage the rest, as well as inform those in the know that my ability was not just talk.

Suplindh had come through with summoners, as well. Less than two days after I mentioned my interest to the half-fiendish gargoyle, a steady stream had flowed in. Promised a generous stipend, room, board, and materials for their own research and studies, all combined for a high source of motivation. Instead of using the whole 'back room' excuse for the summoned creatures, I instead had a 'golem' of Nessi's do a small painting of each one - right after they walked through a double Gate setup in a side room.

Every summoner was allowed to stay as long as they could generate a number unique creatures a day, depending on the target beings power levels and compared to the prior summons. This quickly weeded out the lower ranks of magic users and creatures, with only a few remaining near the end. A positive side-effect of this method is that departing summoners passed on the word to their brethren, ensuring a constant, slow trickle. I really looked forward to who remained at the end and what they could bring up.

Destructive magic users ended up in the same place the various thieves, assassins, infiltrators and vandals ended up: disappeared. I never said anything about the impact or presence of any of them, instead acting genuinely surprised - perhaps with a half smile or laugh. The mystery or nonchalance of it all likely unnerved people more than unpredictable rages, such as from Shemeshka the Marauder or the titan, Zadara. It was also completely different from the supposed simpering attitude of Estavan.

In truth, nothing really disturbing happened to them apart from a few brief moments of terror. I had created a vestibule-like hallway buffer right inside the Sigil street-side portal. This 'hallway' had a paired set of Gates set to redirect them based on intention. Incoming assassins and other purveyors of violence were redirected on the way in, while thieves were caught with their goods on the way out.

As far as terror went, that would be because of the destination were set in a room that hosted Levi and Khonsu. Not a single 'guest' had put up more than a second of resistance in the face of those two Guardians, especially when combined with a power nullifying field that did not effect my unique Domain protectors. Each and every new visitor was put into a stasis effect of sorts and stored in their own individual cell. There was at least a hundred when I checked last, some time ago. As no harm was being done to them, I saw no reason not to continue with the honey pot project for a while further. I'd have to tie in some sort of big event to get the most mileage out of it.

The 'room of excessive enchantments' was also proceeding handedly - or so the reports said. Part of the contract conditions stipulated no active or passive observance of their activities. Nessi had further confirmed this with Ziz, having me go so far as blind myself in the region that they worked on, and disabling the automatic effects of the portal-scanner. It was supposed to be left off, even when they completed the project and exited.

Once more, the sheer mystery of it all intrigued me to no end. I complied regardless with only a heavy shrug or two as an objection. I simply made sure that I had more than double the contract specified amount on me at all times, in both the Temple-backed favour document form and more conventional currency.

Apart from Kylie and Suplindh, the next most productive and helpful people in my life came from the Gleaners and the Planar Cartographic Society. The half-fiendish gargoyle had introduced me to Sfels the Gatherer, a Gleaner task force leader, to which I demonstrated my in-depth assessment ability. While I was not directly connected to his purpose of gathering magic items for his organization, my services as an identifier would be of great benefit. Official talks were under way to have highly secured, monitored and escorted rare magic items and artifacts flow through my area. It would likely start with items they knew already or were of relatively low importance, but I had to start somewhere.

The Planar Cartographic Society consisted of a few different planeswalkers. One, Desarlov was the sole official member while the other two, Sturra Blackhoof & Candrian Illborne, were well known independent freelancers who all willingly and unwittingly contributed to my personal database of potential future planes to Subsume or otherwise examine. I had also posted some large bounties between the three of them for things that I was explicitly looking for, such as living demiplanes and other highly exotic regions and geographical installations.

My favourite gargoyle continued to provide a steady stream of materials, enchanted items, oddities and the very rare artifact. I passed on most of them to the Gleaners for a token fee, earning myself greater goodwill with the organization. Kylie, on the other hand, proved invaluable another way: introductions. She ensured that the strange and unique people of Sigil passed through my doors - and Domain! - at least once. Some of them I was very glad to see go, while others I have an interest in building a personal or professional relationship with. Nessi kept me informed of any usable intelligence, of which there was many.

In addition to the increased monthly stipend for the feisty red-head, I also made sure that touts, couriers and others associated with her had access to my ever refilling food stocks.

Also of note were the irregular reports of the protection drones monitoring Stone and Cog as well as my advocate, Iannis, who had to be replaced and upgraded a few times in the past weeks. The four of them were safe, happy and oblivious otherwise. Their various security enhancements they all purchased enabled me to relax just a slight bit more.

Taylor continued to gush over various insectoid species while Nessi was near-constantly bored apart from the brief flurry of activity that followed each new Domain arrival.

What might have been more troublesome were the occasional letters from the financial movers and shakers of Sigil, Zadara, the mansion bound titan, and Estavan, the well dressed ogre mage. Both of them had to be rebuffed politely, if for different reasons. Jessica and Silla wrote flowery non-replies to the pair of them, stalling for time. Shemeshka the Marauder was a different story. Known as the 'king of the cross-trade,' she was a vain and ambitious raavasta that sat at the center of a far-flung web of spies and informants. A sizable portion of the captured thieves were directly or indirectly sourced from her.

I haven't yet engaged any of the city factions in any official capacity, and it seemed like they were adopting a 'wait and see' attitude.

The last and most visible topic of concern was the appearance, layout, stock, services and *personality* of my store-to-be. I had some delightfully mad ideas, but would not implement them all until I had Subsumed the room-in-progress. My platinum angel indirectly advised me that it would still be at least two weeks more.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"How's everybody doing this morning?" I asked the breakfast crowd in kitchen. All of the current inner circle was present.

Ziz had interrupted my scan of the room by enfolding me a number of her massive white wings. Awkwardly returning the embrace to the platinum skinned angel, she let me go after a few sensually murmured 'greeting' repetitions.

While I enjoyed her attention, I couldn't help but project an alterior motive. My view of the main table had Jessica and Silla seated at completely different ends, with their clothes all tucked in. I could have sworn they were sitting besides each other when I first came in.

I shrugged at the thought, not stressing myself out about it.

Spotting a free space beside one of the four Taylors, I sat down beside her.

"Hey Tays. How are you all doing?" I gave her a half hug that she leaned into for a moment before disengaging. Her attention was focused on the pair of insects that stood guard on either side of her plate. They looked like silverly praying mantises. Whenever another Taylor dropped a piece of bacon in front of them, the insects lighting fast claws caught, shredded and sorted it onto her plate. Every single bacon piece was expertly trimmed of fat, cut to size and stacked into the perfect amount to fit on a fork.

Cool.

She only gestured to the insects by way of reply.

"Can I try it?" Finally looking at me, she smiled and agreed.

Rubbing my hands together in preparation, I put one about a foot above the plate, directly between the two mantises. Then, with a slight breath, I began continuously Conjuring a solid stream of one bacon piece.

Starting off slowly, I saw no difficulty in the insects activity. I kept on increasing the pace until it was all but shooting out of my hand.

"Stop!" The Taylor nearest me jabbed me in my side.

Why is she...? Oh.

Finally paying attention to her plate, rather than the ended stream of bacon and the two mantises, I noticed that it was full. The little critters were stacked on top of each other in order to catch incoming bacon and stack in on the meaty mountain.

Oops.

"Sorry. Great little creatures, though. How is the control of them?" I asked.

"I'm not controlling them, Mike." Pulled out a daze of sorts, she gave me a proper hug that I returned. "Good morning to you too, if I didn't say it earlier." I waved it off. "These little guys are part of a composite experiment I've been working on. This multiverse is covered with different insect species. Once we get securely mobile I can do a lot more."

"No problem, Tay." I gestured to the plate, with the intention of having a copy. With her nod, I picked it up and made two, one for myself and another for Lionheart. Placing them both on the table, I took the nearest pitcher of maple syrup and drowned both crispy meat piles. That done, I removed my beloved sleepy kitten from my head top and placed him in front of his plate. With a cute little twitch of his pink nose and a meow of thanks, he dug in. I did the same with a fork.

"How have you been doing here? Not too stressed to stay indoors?"

She grumbled in reply.

"As long as we will go somewhere, I'm not too worried about it." She ate some of her own bacon mountain before continuing, looking at me. "We are going to check out a new place soon, right? We all get that Nessi has been stressed out without an internet. To go from what was a multi-universal network to the stone age... Appalling. The closest thing I could compare it to would be living in a hi-tech condo for years and then going to a cave in a swamp."

Ouch.

Taylor continued with her breakfast, while I paid attention to mine. Catching Nessi's glowing blue eyes a few spots over, I mentally addressed her.

That all true, head-mate?

Yes indeed, head-mate. A very stinky, smelly swamp. Full of grunting cavemen. I could provide more accurate examples, but I'm sensing you get what I mean.

I nodded in reply, chewing.

I was originally planning on focusing here more, building up whatever enchantments are possible. Instead, I'd like to-

...Have me do the multi-versal search parameters based on beacons or significant events instead of semi-random searching? On it. Likely rare, though then the next issue is assessing whether the beacons are the 'safe' kind or the 'signal of the end of the universe' kind.

We'll just incorporate-

...Some disposable time-lines into checking? Of course. Thanks.

I sent a half-smile to her faint blue steely shined chassis. She must really be stressed out here, I haven't noticed her cutting me off so often before. I topped off my fuzzy doom kitten's bacon supply and focused again on my own.

I was halfway done my own plate when Nessi hugged my shoulders from behind, leaning her head against the back of mine.

Sorry, Mike-ster.

I get it. Don't worry. Though I don't want to transmit the equivalent of-

...Magical diseases across multi-verses? I'll go through every assessment and protection methods this place has, then, as well as our own. If we can't close this Gate - or come back to it later - at least we can be safe with it. No infecting new places with spirits, possessing demons, or godlings or whatever.

I only nodded in reply, bringing one of her hands up to brush against my lips.

Bacon doesn't seem too exciting right now, maple syrup or no.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I was hyped about today. Suplindh had said that one of his contacts came across a retired spelljammer captain or 'helmsman' who was willing to talk about his exploits. Apparently deep space did not work the same way in this multiverse as it did in Earth Bet's.

Lionheart was napping as usual, this time in my lap, when a purple themed, foppish elf came to the open doorway. Looking around at the empty space, he spotted me.

"A stone headed fiend mentioned a groundling wanting to hear about my journeys through the spheres. That you?"

I nodded, gesturing to the seat across from me. He sauntered over to it, sat down, and propped his boots on the table.

Mike-ster, we've got a real character here. Watch yourself, don't drive him off, and follow my prompts. Spelljamming is damn strange.

With a confused mental nod to my head-mate, I agreed.

"Hello sir," I began. He immediately cut me off.

"Don't call me sir, groundling. I was a captain. A pilot. A helmsman."

I sighed, quietly.

"Of course, captain. Thank you for coming here."

He gave me a stiff nod in recognition, puffing out his chest. There were a few things that could have been called medals on his purple leather vest.

They are all fake. Don't ever suggest that, though. Don't ever imply that he was ever anything other than a great captain, either.

"So, captain. Tell me about yourself." I leaned back, prepared to zone out, nod and smile. He leaned back, put on a glazed smile and stared off into the distance.

"It began with my dear younger brother, Kiade Ellodan, the head of the only house of elven nobles on the Rock of Bral. I was passed over, you see. Because I was destined for greatness as a helmsman. Even the wizards knew that."

Bastard orphan left abandoned on a tradeship. Got caught stealing, got kicked off and landed in a pirate ship. Betrayed them to an elven armada in return for a cushy job that he failed at. Lived the rest of his life as a conman, stealing others' stories and mooching off gullible people.

You're not a gullible person, are you, Mike-ster?

"I flew with the elven armadas. Was an officer. An... Officer adventurer corsair captain. Undercover. For the ladies, you know." He gave me a slow wink. "Speaking of which... Spiky rock face said that there was a lady-friend of yours here that was all about the spelljamming captains. She around?"

"Nope. She had to do something far, far away from here." I said it all with a completely flat faced expression.

"Pity. I could probably show her a thing or two, if you know what I mean." He gave me a toothy grin, which had a few teeth replaced with gold.

You don't want to hear the truth about those stories. They are just pathetic.

Thank you for helping me to withstand the agonies of this guy and all the other 'once only' chatters, I thought.

"So. Flight in the crystal spheres, eh? Let me tell you about it..."

This entire multiverse uses some crazy insane system of astrophysics, Nessi thought into our shared mindspace. It is based on the Ptolemaic concept of crystal spheres - no, you don't really want to know about it, trust me - which are flown from ships made of WOOD and other materials that can lift off from planets and go into 'deep space.' These wooden ships are all magical, containing their own air and gravity.

That is so insane. Seriously. What happened to planetary gravitational wells? Stars? The sun? Please don't tell me stars are portals to the elemental plane of fire...

Okay, I won't tell you.

Ahhhh! Dammit! Is there anything at all of note we can go through? Please?

Ask about the 'Legendary Spelljammer.'

"...and that was when I fought off the mind flayer commando pirate team, with both hands tied behind my back. I held my sword in my teeth, you see. My knife was kept strapped between my legs. I had to thrust hard in order to attack." He demonstrated with some pelvic thrusting in the air, tight purple leather pants clearly defining what they shouldn't.

Oh gods.

"The legendary Spelljammer! Captain! I'm sure you've seen it? Maybe even stepped aboard?"

"Of course, groundling. Some of my grandest adventures were on the Spelljammer itself. I was almost a captain of it too, if only I didn't have to choose between saving those three virgin princesses..." He sighed, shaking his head in sorrow. "But the Council of Captains, from the Rock of Bral - remember, my brother? - they had their orders. And so I had mine."

Okay, I'm not going to subject you to the pain of listening to this. Here is what he actually knows, cobbled from a few drunks and witnesses of dubious quality. It is - or was - an extremely huge spelljammer craft. It sort of looks like a cross between a giant manta and a scorpion.

But its not invisible, right? Just-

..Set up some viewing Portals across the various crystal spheres equipped with high resolution inter-stellar telescope cameras, triangulate moving objects and adjust portals as needed. The more lesser spelljammer craft we have pass through, the more intelligence we'll get and the better the odds of catching the big ship itself.

Sure I'll-

...Just create the telescopes and give me a mass of portals. Just think, viewing a few solar systems worth of empty space is actually utterly fascinating compared to what I'm doing right now. Utterly. Fascinating. You already have the templates. Here are some dimensions for possible rooms and 'invisible' style portal tunnels for spelljamming craft to go through.

I-

...Love you too, head-mate. Please hurry. The fascinating world of staring at reams of empty space calls me. I need it. It might give me a few seconds of high intensity workloads. A FEW SECONDS! HURRY!

Whoa. She's stressed.

"...those three princesses might have not been virgins afterwards. We all agreed to keep it hush-hush, especially after..." He had a glazed expression on his face and one of his arms was underneath the table, moving rhythmically.

"CAPTAIN!" I spoke loudly, slightly quieter than a shout. He sat up with a jerk - thankfully not that kind - and stared at me.

"Oh! Groundling! I was just getting to the good part. What's the rush? Is it more mind flayer commando pirates?" He squinted at me.

"No, no... It's just my demonic possession is about to emerge. I usually seal off the room when that happens, as I tend to kill and eat everything in my way... I thought you'd want to leave before then." I gave him a small smile.

He laughed, slapping his thigh. At least his hands were out from under the table.

"Nice one, groundling. But I'm not buying it. Now, where was I..."

Time to mess with him.

"Captain..."

First step, eyes. I'll go with glowing red, leaking trails of blood.

"...I..."

Next is the skin colour. Since I did red with the eyes, a little bit of contrast would be nice. Blue-black works. Maybe add some shine to it too.

"...can't..."

Then the nails. Those I can make darker. Full black, pointy, edged. A good inch or two.

"...stop..."

Overall size could use an increase. I bulked up, adding muscle and mass. Lionheart was an absolute doll, remaining there in kitten bliss. Such a fuzzy wuzzy little guy! The captain is finally starting to look concerned, though.

"...wanting..."

Now for the horns. Horns are awesome, unless you like hats or specially designed hair-styles. Though I suppose you could implement hair-styles that used horns. It would be an interesting challenge. My horns were about two feet long, curved out from my forehead.

The captain had stood behind the chair by this point. Not yet out of the room. Pity.

"...TO..."

The crown of flames. Oh yeah. That is some serious bad ass shit, right there. Make them black flames for additional badassery. Too bad I lent out my flame powers to Emoth. I'll have to conjure up some sort of neon light barbecue gas powered thing. Kind of like putting a halo on a stick down the back of a person's shirt and calling them an 'angel.'

"...DEVOUR..."

He is by the door. Getting close. Times like these I'm really glad that the portal-scanner has holographic visual features. As far as anybody else could tell, we were still inside, chatting quietly. Everything all fine and dandy.

"...YOUR..."

I stood up, and mentally turned down the lights, replacing their glow with a red glare. I also had some surround sound speakers do the whole 'ominous Latin chanting' thing, which was kind of like demonic cheerleading. Anybody with a tongues spell active would hear 'I'm going to om nom nom nom nom nom your soul' set in a refrain. I had skillfully shifted around Lionheart, who only rolled over a few times and meowed before resettling.

"...SOUL."

With those words I pumped up the volume of the chanting to near screaming levels and slowly walked towards him. Inky black ooze poured off my body and trailed behind me. Then I set it on fire with a lit match conjured behind my back.

He finally gave up the excuse for his courage and ran out the door, screaming something about 'demons coming to eat his soul!'

A very undemonic sigh came out of me and I teleported back to my seat, reset the interior of the room and myself, followed by nuzzling my fuzzy wuzzy white wonder-kitten. He was pawing my face with his adorable little paws when one of Kylie's touts popped their head in.

I greeted him with a wave of Lionheart's paw and he just shook his head, muttered and left.

Time for spelljamming!

0.4 - "Business as Unusual"

Thursday, August 2nd, 2012 (Earth Bet calendar) - Sigil

The last week had seen another escalation in activities. The official factions were beginning to bite at my heels, with Jessica and Silla putting in regular hours composing a mix of rejection and invitation letters.

On my end, I had worked with the assistance of Kylie and others to expand our informal intelligence network. This was done through formal and informal access to some of the more well known literary sources. It included two book stores, another two faction libraries and a gentleman's club for mages and a few solo individuals.

The first bookshop was run by Kesto Brighteyes, an gnomish illusionist aligned with the Athar faction. He was reputed to have nearly everything written up, including spell books. I was told that his store was a literal maze of books, with even the floor and walls made of them. My arrangement with Kesto was the simplest - for a regular daily fee, his assistant, an unique undead bodak named Sir Cleve, would deliver a crate full of books both new and old and pick up the previous days crate. Without even happening to open it up, I was able to 'magically' process and tag them and place the relevant info in one of a few regularly updating catalogues which I gave back to the undead former paladin. The end result of all this would be a richer gnome who was more informed about his titles than ever and my own 'mysterious back-room identifier' gained a higher reputation.

The other bookshop exclusively dealt with old and ancient tomes, with the clear exception of spellbooks and anything remotely magical. Called the 'Market Street Book Shop' for easy remembering, it was owned by Laslie Fedrow for a few decades. Not wanting to cause an inter-book store conflict of interest, I waited until she sent a request to my place first. Following an in person demonstration of my identification abilities to the spry old woman, another daily crate of books was sourced as well. In what was a minor jaw-dropping revelation, Nessi informed me that the gray haired, matronly woman was actually an assassin of the highest order and remains the titular head of a subgroup of the Garrote that meets in her basement. The book-filled crates were delivered and picked up by her son, Octavian Fedrow, who was also a high-ranking and still active assassin of the same order.

The more accessible of the two libraries was run by the Fraternity of Order - the Guvners. A massive collection, it was reputed to hold every single known spell somewhere in the assorted shelves. Their friendly alliance with the non-faction organization, based around collecting all spells throughout the planes, called the Order of the Book supported that. With the consultation of Iannis, my advocate, the Guvners were approached with hands well coated with golden coins and offers that went beyond what I offered the two book stores. Specifically, beyond the tagging and cataloguing services, I would be able to provide future copies in different languages, book repairs and restorations, and the enchanting and upgrading of texts and spellbooks. To top things off, I also showed them a mocked up room-sized 'artifact' that I told them was the source of my identification powers. In a direct contrast to the casual and mostly trusting attitudes of the book stores, their burly escorts and delivery men waited around while I took my time. An official Guvner witness observed my actions, mostly in silence. It took a while to get to that point as their insistence on 'understanding' the false identifying device was met with my own stone-walling.

For the working mages' gentleman's club, the Society of the Luminiferous Aether, a different approach was needed. It followed failed approaches by my advocate who attempted to woo them with a sizable amount of golden garnish. In place of requesting them to drop off a crate of books - which was impossible, as they didn't let anything out the door - I presented them with some enhancing reading equipment and loosely paid 'employment.' It consisted of multiple looking bulky sets of items, with the majority being feather-weight enchanted heavy glasses which stacked high resolution recording with a number of other features. A central bulky orb acted as a false 'record nexus' which they would have to drop off on a weekly basis for an exchange. All those duties were paid for and agreed with with grudging gratitude.

The last library was a place I refused to approach on my advocates' recommendations. The underground archive of the Fated, well known as the Takers and Heartless, would instead live up to their reputation and likely attempt to blackmail, steal or otherwise interrupt my own activities. Forewarned, I was able to get Nessi to extend our invisible drone security network to cover and discretely monitor the delivery routines. Only a few Taker aligned thieves have been caught so far, but we expect them to crack in one to three weeks.

I expected the book stores' crates to slow down in about a month, while the libraries would take a lot longer. On Nessi's recommendations, we had spider reading bots go through the restricted sections and other titles that were not passed to us in a disposable time line.

To reduce my own work load, Tensar's Employment Service was contracted to find some very few reliable people that were capable of working at all hours. Nessi and myself would screen them as well, but Utadas Tensar's use of in-depth interviews, and detect lie and know alignment spells saved us a lot of trouble first. We wouldn't mind spies, as long as they weren't actual thieves.

I was able to go over all this mentally with no trouble due to the presence of our newest guest, Able Ponder-Thought. A research consultant at the Hall of Records, his capacity to dig up obscure information was amazing. So too was his ability to endlessly talk about everything he has research. Everything. A portly, grey haired human who seemed otherwise healthy, his work kept him in good spirits and finances.

"...Then, the fourth treatise I read on the topic of the Blood War stated that-"

"Able!" I interrupted him. Far from looking annoyed, he simply refocused upon me with a minor note of confusion. "Thank you for expressing your... Enthusiasm for your work and agreeing to come here. However, I do have some topics I'm interested in you researching and I was wondering if we could cover them instead."

"Of course, of course!" He replied. "I am always most happy answer what questions I can, young sir."

I gave a mental roll of the eyes at the insinuation towards my age. It wouldn't be worth my time to explain otherwise.

"I am specifically interested in unique geographical locations, sites of power, cursed regions, and large-scale artifacts. Even little known planar qualities, such as strange time flows, sentience, gravities and attributes are welcomed. On top of that, I am also interested in the various common craft of the planes, spelljammers and rare sightings or stories of supposed mythical or unknown vehicles." I paused, waiting for a sign of recognition. Seeing his eyes light up, I spoke again before he did. "I am already familiar with the legend of The Spelljammer, so you can skip that one topic."

His face fell briefly, then a number of nods followed.

"Of course, young sir." He rubbed his hands together a few times. "I can already imagine quite a few starting points. Now, as my work in the Hall of Records can be quite time consuming, would there be any incentives to prioritize your own, good sir?"

The ever present request for cold, hard cash. Nessi took care of it this time, taking out a small, simple draw-string coin purse out of her hammer-space below the table. Handing it to him, Able discreetly tucked it into his clothing.

"Well then! Madam, sir - I'll be off to get started on your fascinating projects!"

Writing down a few of my contacts and passing it to him, we exchanged offered waves and words of goodbye as he uprooted himself from the chair and headed outside, nodding towards us at the doorway.

I only gave myself a sad sigh at the loss of the interruption before Nessi mentally continued with her previous topic - money. Shifting closer to me on her seat, she reached over and took my hand in both a very light and very firm grip.

Alright, Mike-ster. Are you able to recount all the major details of your spending habits, or do I need to repeat them - again?

I think I have it, Nessi. Hold on...

I closed my eyes and tilted my head against the headrest. The absence of the slight weight provided by Lionheart once again caused a few moments of panic and terror before I remembered where he was. My favourite hat-cat no longer seemed to nap and rest upon myself quite so often, as he had taken to flying around on the baby-sized smalljammer. Ziz was hardly able to examine the reincarnated spelljamming vehicle when my favourite white fluff ball expressed his fascination with it. They have been nearly inseparable ever since, with Lionheart being the only one able to understand the smalljammer.

At least they were both willing to sleep beside me, next to Nessi and Ziz. Following my kitten's prompts, the flying craft had its size stabilized and I had began the process of enhancing it to reasonable levels.

Still... The whole 'you don't miss something till its gone' was very much in effect for me. I gripped Nessi's hand with my own and began to mentally recite what I remembered.

I have massively overpaid everyone so far. Some of the most expensive things in Sigil include a mind flayer spelljammer for over seventy thousand gold and exclusive club memberships for ten thousand. The highest rewards or fees range down from ten thousand gold for unique issues, such as rare skulls for Lothar or the corpse of the Scratcher. Personal services start at one silver piece per hour for touts, go up through ten gold pieces for... For...

Nessi made some back and forth motions with her free hand.

For the carpet of flying for every half hour. Judge sessions likely cost about one thousand gold pieces.

Her hand in my lap twitched, and I open my eyes and looked at her. Nessi was giving me an expectant stare.

And, I mentally projected, absolutely NO personal services require funds in the levels of a quarter million, let alone ten million. A reasonable advocate retainer is a mere two hundred gold pieces.

She pulled herself over to me and gave me a kiss on the side of the head, then reseated herself.

Good job. We were very lucky with the gargoyle, your advocate and the temple of favours. Until you get your math sense down properly, I'll handle the finances or advise you directly. Got it?

I blew out a long sigh, and nodded.

Yes, beloved head-mate. I got it.

She squeezed my hand and made a light cough.

However, I did manage to arrange the purchase of two expensive vehicles, she thought into our shared mindspace. An ethereal tunneler for about one hundred and fifty thousand gold and a gate zeppelin for about one hundred and seventy. The first has a drill and tunnels through mundane earth, accompanied by brief stopovers in the Ethereal Plane to bypass obstructions. The zeppelin generates massive gate effects, as per the spell, which closes behind it once traveled through. They should be ready for pickup in about a week.

I couldn't help but utter an awed 'wow.'

Thanks, Nessi. Any other big news? Project progress, great finds and so on?

I looked at the room front. Still bare, the only features were regular light-generating crystals on the walls. Not that many people come into a room so devoid of reason and purpose like ours.

Something like that. In Candrian's search, he has gone through more of the Hive and back-alley bars than the other two plane walkers. There has been lots of rubbish and lies tossed his way, but he thinks that this one might be something worthwhile. They might not be here for some time, though.

Right. Why don't we eat with the others, then?

Without another mental exchange, she stood up from her overly large black leather chair. I was pulled up as well, by virtue of still holding onto her hand. With a gesture, the store-most portion of the vestibule hallway was filled with a block of stone and we left the room.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lunch was a simple affair. Buffet style sandwiches, with tons of fixings. I ate alone. Not alone alone, but... Without Lionheart beside me. Instead, I had squished myself between two Taylors as tightly as possible before we started to be on top of each other - or fuse together, for that matter.

I was ignoring my bacon style sloppy Joe sandwich in favour of watching the mini smalljammer - tinyjammer? - do loops around the kitchen and out into the main lounge. My... The... Beloved kitten of my Domain was contained in a tiny clear bubble style cockpit of the manta-scorpion based design. It was open enough to blast Lionheart with air and for us all to hear the excited meows as they whipped around. I'm glad they kept it subsonic, at least.

The other reason I wasn't eating was because I only had two hands, and each one was holding onto a Taylor on either side of me. I debated about growing another one from my chest to grab my sandwich, but I didn't know if it was considered bad table manners or not. Visible mutations at the dining table, that is.

"Earth to Mike, hello?" Both the Taylors on either side of me had resorted to whispering in my ears at the same time. It was... Attention getting. That's all I'll say.

"Hmm? Tays?" I spoke straight ahead, not knowing what to do when I was addressed between two of them. The leftmost one spoke next.

"I've been doing a ninja slapstick routine with the mantises right in front of you, and you didn't even notice." I looked down at the table. Surrounding my plate were a group of seven ninja-garbed mantises. They all wore red martial arts uniforms secured with black belts and were wielding tiny metal weapons with simple clawed hands.

Neat.

"That's pretty cool, Tays. Thanks." It got a flicker of a smile out of me that swiftly settled into a more neutral position.

The mantises arranged themselves into two columns, facing each other. The last one stood at the front of the column, facing them. It clapped its claw hands together and the first pair of mantises bowed towards one another.

"Lionheart seems pretty taken with TJ over there," she said. "You're not taking it two well, are you?"

These two were using tiny metal staves. They attacked each other with blinding speed, sounding like someone typing very rapidly at a metal-based, clicking keyboard.

"Nope. I'm glad he still wants to cuddle at night with me. Strange to have... TJ part of it as well."

"Even though he remained a kitten in body, his mind still grew. I'm grateful you allowed that - even with your promises, it was a big step." Both the Taylors leaned their heads against me and kept them there.

"Yeah," I replied. "Friends and companions and... More... Are only such when there is choice involved. Otherwise it just becomes different degrees of charades or puppetry."

The staff wielding mantises had concluded their demonstration. The next pair bowed to each other and took out tiny chained sticks - likely an attempt at nun-chucks. The blurring action of each weapon reminded me of those small, portable hand-held fans.

The Taylors made some agreeable sounds and relaxed further beside me.

I ended up not eating anything except for that one sandwich, and that was because Ziz fed me it telekinetically.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Candrian had to keep hold of the shoddily dressed, shaking man as he led him to the sofa-chair opposite Nessi and myself. An obvious Hive dweller of the worst sort, he wore what amounted to rags, had a scraggly beard and was generally a perfect example of the lowest levels of society here in Sigil. Nessi had advised me to pay attention to him in spite of all that.

When the halfway gone planeswalker finished depositing the unkempt man on the couch, he scooted over to the opposite side. The rag wearing man instead gripped the table, hard, with both his hands and looked at me.

"The invisible man here said that you can help me." Bloodshot eyes contrasted with his brown, stained teeth. "Help me from going back. Help me from leaving. Help me... Stop me..." He hunched forward, shaking. "...The third time. It happened to the others the third time. Can't plane shift. Can't teleport. Can't risk it."

His greasy hair shook with the motion as he rocked back and forth over the table.

Start a disposable time line and get Candrian to check it out - portal him to right outside the location. No point in harming him if this pans out. A copper-and-crystal coloured area of the ethereal curtain, with an Asahel showing up to warn people away.

I followed her advice. In it, I started explaining to Candrian about a remote controlled portal system I had. His exclamations of surprise trailed into the hallway behind the me in the main time-line.

Nessi nodded at me and we both returned our focus to the distraught man. He kept on rocking forwards and backwards, muttering about 'not wanting to go back.'

"Hey... Uh... Sir?" I addressed him, and he looked up at me. Slightly reducing his rocking.

"Yessss?" His bloodshot eyes gazed into mine. A small fleck of spittle fell off the side of his mouth.

"I can try to help you, but I'll need to touch you in order to attempt it. Okay?"

"Yessss..." He rocked slowly back and forth. "Fine with Grabby Tabby... Fine, it isss..." His last words trailed off into silence.

Getting up out of my chair, I walked around the table and crouched beside him. I placed my hands on his exposed forearm and focused, deep into him. Tabby here was a lot older than he appeared. One of the effects of drinking from the sea of the demiplane he encountered was an age reduction - that very action bound his soul to the place, causing any 'jump' based movement spells, such as plane shift and teleport to return him there. His earlier friends cracked under the pressure, with the latest one doing his 'final dive' just a few months ago.

I'll need to be careful here. I don't think that my methods that would change bindings on the soul level. I'll try to bypass it first - maybe reshape his body, have him die and be resurrected here and so on. Getting a mental nod of permission from Nessi in regards to the use of Biomancy, I started to remake his body. Reduce age, increase health - lots of sorts of little tune-ups. A cleaning was tossed in for free.

Before I was able to explain my ideas he released his hands from the table and all but jumped up. My eyes opened as I watched him move very quickly.

"I'M NOT GOING BACK!" He yelled, running towards the street side front entrance and disappearing into the outer doorway. The Sigil doorway.

What.

"He just... Disappeared. His third time - it just happened. Right there. I wasn't done yet..." I alternated between looking and Candrian and Nessi. Both of them appeared as confused as I felt.

The half-transparent man finally shrugged.

"Then his story was true." He blinked, his blue eyes obscured with the motion.

I dusted off my hands on my tie-died suit pants and reseated myself, holding one of Nessi's hands with my own.

"Yes, though you don't need to do anything about it," I started. "Just..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Disposable time-line.

"...Be careful around there," Candrian said. "It is a copper-and-crystal coloured area of the Ethereal curtain, as you said. The being named Asahel showed up with a warning. Her exact words were 'I am Asahel. Beyond this curtain boundless toil awaits, though your first taste will be refreshingly sweet.' It was repeated twice over."

Candrian had reseated himself next to Grabby Tabby, who was still rocking back and forth.

"As the guardian's words implied the first visit - at the minimum - was safe, I entered the realm," he continued. "It hosted endless crystal strands, spires of spinning vapour and..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Main time-line.

"...Gelatinous deeps containing the dark, fluid shapes of strange creatures," I finished. "While it should be safe enough for you to visit once, there is no point in stressing your existence. Keep in mind that I am very appreciative of this - it is exactly the type of thing I'm looking for. Thank you very much, Candrian."

"You're welcome, seeker," he said, sparing a glance to the empty doorway and sighing. "Would there be anything else?"

I shook my head in refusal.

"Any time you want some cash or credit redirected, I'll be happy to do so."

Candrian typically refused a purse of gold due to how visible it would be on his frame, so we had made other arrangements. That was one of them.

"My thanks." Waving away an offer of fruit, he left out the front with some final farewells exchanged between us.

Lets test out the Subsuming in the disposable time-line first, okay?

Sure, Nessi. Great idea.

I gestured towards the small hallway vestibule and half-filled it with a block of stone. Our attention then shifted to our other selves.

One more plane to taste-test.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Wednesday, July 25th, 2012 (E.B.)

It tasted like the colour of a yellow-purple blend of clouds, mixed with a Jello composed of the finest number thirty seven and two thirds. Not one third or three quarters, but two thirds.

We were sitting in same front room as usual. No longer with an ever convenient Lionheart to feel comforted by, I was yet again holding onto Nessi's hand with both of my own.

Sir Cleve, in all his undead bodak glory, had just dropped off his daily crate of books and was about to leave with yesterdays. If you were to start off with a normal sized human, cover them in black rubber and stretch out their skull and increase their height - you'd get a bodak. In Sir Cleve's case, he also wore a loincloth and kept himself somewhat hunched over. He was rather tall.

"Owner Rainbow Umbrella, my work here is done. By your leave, I shall depart."

Having the words of a formal knighted paladin come out of him was rather odd, but nice.

"Of course, Sir Cleve. All the best to you and Kesto." I followed my words with a wave, but was otherwise silent. Nessi did the same.

With a deep nod - almost a bow - Sir Cleve picked up the crate and walked outside with it. On the street and clear of the vestibule hallway, he shifted the half-way large wooden container onto his shoulder and strode off, humming a knightly battle hymn.

I knew it was a battle hymn, because Sir Cleve had explained it to me previously.

Only in Sigil. Seriously.

I rubbed my free hand over Nessi's knuckles. Her hard light holographic disguise has been getting a lot of use here. I was still more comfortable with what I considered her 'natural' form in spite of that.

She inclined her head towards the doorway and I saw a small, baseball-sized ripple in the air roll by the bottom corner, pause for a second, and head back out. One of the invisible security drones, doing a report dump most likely.

Anything special in it this time, head-mate?, I mentally asked Nessi.

I'll say. Kylie is on her way, and she is leading a small group instead of the usual single person. Four of them - a heavily scarred grey skin man, yet another skimpily dressed red headed tailed tiefling, she interrupted her mental communication to give me a glare of warning, a floating skull - not a mimir - and an aged male Githzerai. It's a good thing that Tcha is not around. The whole Githzerai and Githyanki racial tension would cause conflict between them, even if she is an exile.

I let out a few sounds of interest.

And the deliveries? New items? Artifacts? Anything?

She squeezed my hands with her own.

Just one little thing... A toy modron that acts as a teleportation device to a quasi demi-plane-like modular dungeon concept in the chaos of Limbo. Nothing special.

I was still gaping at Nessi when Kylie and the group of four came in the open front door.

0.5 - "Dungeon Master, Version Too"

Friday, August 3rd, 2012 (Earth Bet calendar) - Sigil, 'evening'

Nessi certainly wasn't kidding about the scars, I thought. Greyface here looked like nothing quite so much as a living person stuck in the shell of an undead barbarian. From his torn grey skin through the bone and leather getup he was wearing, everything about him screamed out that he had been eaten, swallowed, digested and shat out - multiple times. At least he didn't smell bad, just like a kind of formaldehyde-based preservative.

What.

That leads to a whole other bunch of questions. Spotting Greyface's matted, beaded black hair shifting as he opened his mouth to speak, I slowed down my own perception of time to just under painful limits. I'd massage my forehead, but... Slow time.

I have to take in this insanity first.

The Githzerai was ancient, wearing very light armour with a spiky theme. He wielded a karach blade, that Limbo-based matter that adjusts according to mental discipline. I should probably Subsume a bunch of it.

The tiefling added to my whole 'feisty red head with a tail' collection, now numbering two. Not wanting to experience a supersonic elbow to the side from Nessi, I merely noted its asymmetrical style and dual punch dagger holsters. There was also a trailing dragon tattoo over her right thigh, whose head was pointed directly into... Okay, how about that skull.

I'm not getting much out of the floating bone-ball. Apart from the fact that he is flying around without wings of any sort and has freestanding, unsupported blue eyeballs... Nothing special. His teeth look peculiar, though. Like they don't quite match the same bone tone as the head.

Alright, head-mate. Can you please give me the run down on this comedy of errors?

Will do, Mike-ster, she mentally replied. Though I'm pretty sure you won't like the full story.

We'll see.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She was right. I didn't like it. An immortal whose deaths caused his own memory loss and fueled shadows to pursue and kill him causing even more deaths; a trash talking skull who actually tried to be a decent chap - though he usually failed; a Githzerai pariah who unwittingly bound himself into slavery, twice damned over by the creed of his race; and a street tiefling, painfully raised by a lord of the trash heaps, deep under the Hive.

To throw in another set of complications, both the Gith and the skull knew the scarred amnesiac in a prior life of his, where he was a ruthless, 'practical,' manipulative bastard. That same manipulator left a bunch of clues, but the most recent paranoid incarnation messed up a number of them. The tiefling was also very hot on the scarred man, in more ways than one.

Bloody mess of a story, isn't it.

Told you, head-mate. Ready to enact our plan?

I sent her a mental nod and restored the normal flow of time.

"Greet-" Greyface started to say, but I cut him off.

"Stop, please," I said, holding up a hand for emphasis. I then focused on my more familiar mushroom-styled red-head. "Kylie - brilliant work as always. I'll make sure they are well cared for, as well as yourself - when you come back."

Not needing to spell it out any more than that, she took the suggestion with a smile and left out the front again with a wave and a flick of her tail. The group of four were silent with my interruption.

Another gesture towards the front door hallway half-filled it with black stone. They jumped slightly with the movement.

"Ah, chief, I don't know anymore..." The floating skull addressed the scarred man.

"Hello. You may call me Rainbow Umbrella." I folded my hands in my lap. Looking at each one in turn, I spoke. "Greyface, please follow me. Morte, Dak'kon, Annah - please stay with Nessi here." I gestured to my disguised gynoid beauty.

I stood up, and they were all still frozen.

"What? I thought that you'd all be sick of talking by now and would prefer someone who could give you answers?" I stared at the group. "Or would you prefer we all have a nice chat and waste the rest of the day telling each other our life stories? One of yours would be very short, though I expect between you all it could get filled in more than expected."

That last sentence was accompanied by a stare I alternated between Morte and Dak'kon.

Like some sort of improv comedy sketch, they did a number of shrugs and half-started words between them all. As I waited, sighing dramatically and tapping one of my rainbow coloured dress shoes, they finally sorted themselves out.

Greyface approached me, while the others sat or floated to the couch opposite Nessi. With a gesture, I made a few bowls of fruit and snacks appear on the center table.

I sent them a wave and headed out the back, the grey scarred man following. Once we were a few paces in, I filled the space behind us with another block of stone.

He broke the silence first.

"Where are we going, exactly, mister Rainbow Umbrella?" His voice was rather deep and worn out. It was like his very vocal cords had passed through the same scarification process that his outer body did.

I stopped, turned around and faced him.

"To right the wrongs." I shook my head in dismay. "All seven of my sisters, and you come back here, oblivious. Every single one on their first day in Sigil. You should be ashamed of yourself. They were saving themselves for uncle Jim."

I kept on making disappointed sounds.

"You sure had some pretty strange tastes, though. They ranged in age from their twenties to the early four hundreds." I squinted at him. "You're not going to make a pass at me too, are you?"

I backed away slightly. He was stuttering, apologetic.

"Still, when you entered the back room with dad and uncle Jim, they both came back a lot happier. Though you were limping afterwards." I checked him out, full body scan. He then in turn backed up.

"Though why did you have to do that to our moon dog? It was sick, man... Seriously."

Greyface has gone silent, face flat. Expression even more ashen than before, if such a thing could be possible.

"I don't know where you got the recipe that included moon dog fur, but nothing - even knowing that aunt Esma liked it in her cakes - excused it. Seriously, Greyface. That stuff is nasty."

The skin around his left eye is starting to twitch.

"Then there was the bloody entail lasso game. We had to stop aunt Esma from attending, as it would have killed her, but you looked to be having a good time. The moon dog seemed to forgive you as it gnawed on your still attached guts."

I kept a slightly sad expression on my face.

"There was the whole thing with your journal, too. Every little thing and it'd be 'updated my journal.' You'd eat a meal, or have the moon dog piddle on your boots and it would be... 'updated my journal.' Every time. We were thinking of committing you to an asylum, after everybody stopped laughing."

Greyface was glaring at me now.

"You didn't seem willing to even buy or steal regular pieces of paper, oh no. Instead, you had to bust out your flensing knife, flay a bit of your skin off and-"

"Could you stop, please?" His jaw was moving back and forth, facial muscles twitching.

"But Greyface," I began, "I haven't yet shown you the bill of sale for the Clerk's Ward. You've got some outstanding interest payments I need to collect." I tempered my words with a big grin.

"What do you know about me, Rainbow?" He crossed his arms with the question.

"Eh, lots of things. Just thought that you could use a bit of levity and a break from your team. Let's head out. I want to show you something - we can talk at the same time."

I snapped my fingers and we were gone.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Greyface's awe at my use of a massive portal to swallow a giant modron cube construct from the chaos of Limbo would only last so long. After Subsuming the cube and rapidly digesting it, we teleported inside my very new dungeon-of-fun and greeted the ride operators.

"Hey there!" I said to the winged, cuboid modron.

It delivered a rather routine spiel in response.

"Greetings, supreme overlord emperor Rainbow Umbrella. Welcome to Rainbow Rubikon, the Rubikon version two experience. Thank you for choosing Rubikon for your dungeoning experience. You may access Rubikon through this door."

"Ah, Rainbow," Greyface whispered behind me. "Where are we? Whats going on?"

I whispered in return.

"We are inside an artificial stereotypical dungeon built by modrons and placed in Limbo. It was partially corrupted by the chaos there, and I just opened up a remote portal, swallowed it up and digested it." I lightly elbowed him in the side. "By the way, I'm a living demiplane. Nice to meet you."

I flashed him a smile and returned back to the greeter.

Some attempts later, I realized that it would not answer any further questions. It really was nothing but a idiot savant greeter.

...

Room one.

"Die in the name of the Evil Wizard!"

Those words were thrown in my face as I attempted to say hello to one of the two humanoid styled robots. I turned to Greyface.

"Do I look like an evil wizard?"

He gave me a good eye-balling, scanning my entire tie-died rainbow suit. Finally, he spoke.

"More like insane than evil, actually."

I nodded in agreement and turned to the extremely nonthreatening robot.

"No, I'm just insane. Please die instead, alright?"

With a click of its head, it fell over. I repeated the same process with the other one.

"So... Greyface. Let me see if I have all the major details right: you woke up in the mortuary on a slab. Met a talking skull. Gathered the Gith at the Smoldering Corpse Bar, went through some annoying interactions with people, found a bronze ball, gave it to an old man, met a feisty red haired tiefling and lost and recovered said floating skull."

He nodded and otherwise made sounds of agreement at each step.

"Well, my inner senses tell me that you are on the right track. Just keep on talking to people and bumbling around, and you'll get there eventually." At seeing his downed face, I continued. "Don't worry, I have a lot more to say. First of all, you know how you aren't gaining skills so much as remembering them? Well..."

...

Room four.

"...And that is what could be done with your unlocked strength and speed. Nifty, eh?"

Greyface was looking at the pieces of the 'low threat constructs' scattered around the room. He had demolished them, using only his fists.

"We'll be going through the full set of basic weapons, followed by wizardry magic and the thieving arts." I paused, looking at him. "Were you already introduced into wizardry?"

"Yeah, there was a midwife. I did a few back and forth... Deliveries... To prompt my memories of the craft. I didn't keep to it, though. My knife felt more familiar." He demonstrated such by deftly spinning it over and between his fingers, then flicking it up into the air and catching it. I gave him some silent applause for the effort.

...

Room seven.

"Die in the name of the Evil Wizard!"

I turned to Greyface.

"Can I have these ones?"

"Sure, Rainbow. Go ahead." He swung out his two-handed hammer and crossed it over his shoulders.

I sunk into the ground up to my ankles and held out my hands towards the trio of robotic minions.

"Die in the name of the Insane Wizard!" I shouted, raising my hands up and clenching my fists. At the same time, giant arms formed out of the floor and grabbed each target, promptly crushing them. The hands retracted, pulling them back into the walls.

Greyface swung his hammer around in preparation for the next batch.

"How long are we going to stay in here, anyways? Will the others be okay?" He asked me.

"Oh, they will be fine. I'm picked up an interesting planar trait from a place called 'The Boundless' a while ago and applied it to this place here. Basically, no matter what time we go in, we'll come out right that moment. Pretty handy for two immortals, eh?"

He nodded at me.

"How am I doing with weaponry?"

"You'd be the the best judge of that, Greyface," I said, waiting.

"Still a while to go," he said, after some moments of inner reflection.

"Want to unlock some more? I'm thinking of your charisma." I offered my hand to him and he took hold of it.

...

Room fifteen.

"I am just another faceless minion of evil who you must either destroy or be destroyed by!"

I exchanged a look with Greyface. Without saying anything, we held out our fists. One, two, three... Rock. He got paper, dammit.

"All yours, Greyface." I sulked by the door while he waded in with a battle-axe, severing limbs and heads with style. In less than a minute, they were all defeated.

"Hey, they dropped something! Come check it out!"

I walked over. He was holding what looked like a miniature Gatling gun, with no ammo feed slot or attachment point. It was slightly smaller than my forearm, with a grip trigger and a stabilizing handle. Greyface was turning it back and forth.

"Allow me?" He passed it over and I held it carefully, fingers over the trigger guard. Aiming at the biggest pile of scrapped robots I could find, I gently pressed the trigger. Moments later, the gun began to spin up and the scrapped remains dissolved under the barrage.

Damn. This is like Tinkertech plus magical ammo resupply. Magitech, maybe?

"What is it?" He asked me.

"Something that shouldn't be here," I replied.

I'll most definitely need to adjust the loot tables after this.

...

Room twenty-seven.

"What are you doing?" Greyface was still trying to find out something from the bots. The answers were not that useful.

"I am currently enacting the frightened minion who meets the hero for the first time," it stage whispered, leaning towards him. Straightening up, it shouted out some more. "To arms, fellow constructs! We must strike down the hero!"

Then it whipped out it's diamond edged chain-saw, whirring it up. Greyface countered with two vibro-blade katanas. They began to fight, sparks flying everywhere.

I shook my head back and forth.

"This place is crazy," I muttered under my breath.

"You're telling me, hero." The nearest bot puffed a few times on it's metallic cigarette before freezing, then looked at me. The cigarette dropped and it's hands flared with white hot radiance.

This is more like it!

...

Room forty-two.

Finally, some sort of a break from the madness. Both of us had given up on formal weapon training. Instead, I was only unlocking Greyface's characteristics to superhuman levels. The fact that they stayed like that was proof that they were that high in the past.

Our primary weapons were single hand Gatling pistols, one gauss based and the other some form of 'energy bullet.' Miniature 'magic missile,' by the parlance of the land, most likely.

About half a dozen modrons were in this room. It was different than all the robot minion rooms from before. There was only the single entrance and exit, and the walls were covered with complicated looking machinery. More magitech, I speculated.

I invited Greyface to talk them first. We'd need to camp soon, anyways. It's been almost a full day in here.

"Greetings," he said. The modron he addressed replied with the exact same thing, but with a monotone, sexless voice.

"I have questions..."

I tuned out for a while, checking out the walls. They were very strange. I could swear that there was Tinkertech mixed in with these crystalline lattices...

Nessi, what do you think?

So NOW you talk to me, Mike-ster? Do you know that when you crossed over into this differentially time flowing area it severed the connection to your Domain?

Ah... Which should only end up being for a second or two in the outer world?

Yeah. Still. I was used to having a remote chassis, and not having one now is rather strange.

True. Sorry, I wasn't thinking. Ah... Along those lines... The sudden targeting and Subsuming of the Modron Maze, Rubicon... How...?

Don't worry, head-mate. It was expected - I had already gone over it with Ziz and Taylor. You going through the first run helps iron out the bugs, anyways. We were hopeful it could be incorporated into the danger arena, as our elite fighting force of three hundred are getting rather bored. While we were initially depending on a small demon castle or something to raid, this could be the next best thing. It looks like it can be internally configured, which will free you from personally making large scale adjustments.

True. Still strange that the modrons would make something like this. Hey, here is a thought. You know the modron life cycle?

Of course. Promotion system, spawned from energy and so on.

Well, what would happen if I just Subsumed a little bit from the area where they spawned from in Mechanus? If I could dedicate a pool of ambient magic energy to a similar purpose, you'd be able to have your own hierarchy of magitech robots. What do you think?

Depending on what Ziz advises, that could be a great idea. Thank you, head-mate.

Absolutely, head-mate.

We exchanged mental impressions of cuddling for a while, while Greyface continued to talk to the central modron.

"What is this place?" He asked.

"Rainbow Rubikon: Project goal is to determine the dynamics, both social and asocial, surrounding the environment commonly construed as a dungeon and attempt to exploit the aberrations that tend to occur in such environments."

"What aberrations are you talking about?"

"Queries to be answered: What attracts people to dungeons? Why do people seek to enter them if they are places of such danger? Why are dungeons there in the first place? What are the dynamics of a workable dungeon? How can the dynamics of a workable dungeon be exploited? I... Do not understand."

"You said 'I' instead of 'we' right there."

The modron engineer looked over at me by the wall, then back at Greyface. It flapped its wings as if to say 'yeah, so?' but was otherwise silent.

Looks like we might have a full batch of rogue modrons in this thing.

True. I'm just glad that they came along with the Subsuming process.

Of course they would. Things like the Spelljammer were an exception - the large craft itself was the item to be Subsumed. If there were anything living on it, they would come too. It would require specific effort to harm or kill 'passengers,' as that is not what Subsuming is about. They would not normally change, either, so... Something strange is going on here. The chaos taint of Limbo must have seeped in much more extensively than I realized. As long as the modrons don't want to return to the 'collective,' I don't mind having them around.

Me neither. Any objections to being an official liaison, head-mate?

None whatsoever!

"...Denied. Project halted due to accident... And... Being absorbed into the form of an extra-dimensional, living sapient demiplane." The modron engineer glanced my way, with Greyface following the actions at the same time. I suppose this is a form of verification, then.

"What accident?" Greyface asked.

"Dungeon construct became unstable, cause uncertain. Fail-safes activated causing dungeon to collapse, initial cause unknown, exacerbated by an absorption factor. Only the incorporation into the living demiplane was known as a post-accident complication. Portal lens malfunctioned causing contact with home plane of... Of... Sanctum to be severed, cause uncertain. Reset of dungeon necessary." The modron engineer said in its monotone voice.

"Then why don't you reset it?"

"Reset can only be imitated by project director. Project director disintegrated. Portal lens has malfunctioned and contact with Sanctum severed. Cannot acquire replacement director from Sanctum."

"Let me get this straight. You can't reset without a director, but you can't get a director without resetting?"

"Assessment correct. Project halted." It fidgeted, looking worried.

The grey scarred man buried his head in his hands, muttering. I don't know quite what my improvements have done for him, but increasing the quality of 'charisma' had changed the way his appearance was portrayed. Instead of being a scarred monster to avoid at all costs, now he was more like some sort of dashing vigilante. Annah of the Shadows will likely be knocked off her feet. Speaking of...

I walked over to where Greyface and the modron engineer were talking and waved, interrupting them.

"Pardon me." I then made two enchanted rings, and passed them over to the only other humanoid here. "Greyface, these are rings of fire immunity and fire ability suppressing. Keep them both with you - I know that they will be very important for you, and someone who means a lot to you. Alright?"

He took them with a puzzled expression, putting them into his recently created hammer-space.

"Modron, who am I?" I asked it.

"You are supreme overlord emperor Rainbow Umbrella," it answered.

"What are my permissions and authorities with that rank and status?"

"Everything. Root administrator and core access, all included."

"Would those permissions include and overlap with those of the project director?"

"Correct. Your rank and status would enable you to act as project director as well as project president."

"Can you assign me the project director rank, now, please?"

"Done. Supreme overlord emperor Rainbow Umbrella now recognized as project director." It blinked at me a few times then spoke again, as if recognizing me anew. "Greetings, project director Rainbow Umbrella. Advise on next task."

"Please reset this dungeon, engineer."

"Initializing reset..." The room was filled with a low thrumming sound that could be felt rather than heard. "Collapsing existing dungeon..." The sound kept on increasing until the floor began to vibrate. "Initializing new dungeon..." After some moments of further intense volume, it suddenly went quiet. "Reset complete. Dungeon construct status: Very Easy. Awaiting further instructions, Director."

Greyface beckoned me over and we went into a bit of a huddle.

"What do you think, Rainbow? 'Very Easy' seems like too much of a cake walk. Want to try the other options, see what comes up?"

"Sure," I replied. "There is bound to be some interesting things. After all, what is the worst that could happen?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Room five hundred and sixty-seven.

We tend to default back to the same old argument.

"Did you know that the size was a cuboid measurement, not a square one? Rainbow?" He was oiling his fancy construct slaying great-sword as he spoke. He was half exposed no longer, wearing a leather-lined, snug fitting, fine mesh chain link armour body-suit of mithril. It was covered with a bandoleer of grenades and a few other filled weapon holsters, and left his hands and head uncovered.

I repeated what I had said countless times before.

"No, and further than that. I thought it was a total amount, as in ten rooms by ten rooms. Not... One hundred by one hundred by one hundred..."

Then, as if in perfect synchronization, we both spoke at the same time.

"Not one freaking million rooms."

I flopped back onto my oversize sleeping bag, where my robotic princess was waiting.

"Hey Nessi, how is the make-shift magitech chassis doing?"

"Strange," she replied. "It feels like a suit of ill-fitting clothing. I still want to try to adapt to it, though. Having a blend of both aspects, as in high technology and magic, will allow redundancies and capacities not normally possible otherwise."

I tapped one of her hard, brassy shoulders and she frowned.

"At least you can alter your sensitivity and density, right?" Nessi asked me.

I pulled her close beside me and replied.

"Very true." I looked around the camp, spotting our resident favourite rogue modron. "Hey, dead-eye Nordom! How are you three doing over there?"

"Response: my hand-cannons and myself are not 'doing.' We are 'being.'"

"Being what?"

"That is what we are discussing."

"Gotcha."

"Error noted, you do not 'got' us. We are over here. You are over there. No 'got' is observed."

I buried my head into the nape of Nessi's neck and groaned quietly. At least Nordom was more attached to Greyface than me. It looks like the rogue modron will be leaving with him after our time here is done.

The reason we kept on grinding through rooms was due to the way this place was set up. Sort of like the time lock I have on my omni-dimensional omni-sensory abilities, so too was there a one for changing the room size. Whenever the choice of going through one million rooms or using the four year defaulting period comes up, we didn't rest for more than a week before heading out again.

Greyface called out to me, still focused on his weaponry.

"Big push tomorrow!"

I waved in acknowledgement and attempted to get some sleep, Nessi's bronzed form moving slightly beside me.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Room seven thousand, nine hundred and twenty-three.

The last of the spider mechs were downed by Nordom. Nessi gave him a brief round of brassy applause.

"Attention," the rogue modron stated. "Nordom and hand-cannons wish to go in search of trouble."

"He is doing alright, you think, eh Greyface?" I nudged the mithril armoured man as we looked at the perforated pieces all around us.

"Yeah, definitely. You sure that you don't need him, Rainbow?"

I waved off the question.

"No worries. Let me show you my official Guardians some time. Besides," I finished, "you could use a ranged attacker. Even with your magic and the thieving skills set high, your relaxed default seems to be knife fighting."

Greyface sighed, agreeing. Some gestures and mumbling on his part summoned a glow on his hands, followed by another to dismiss it.

"It's certainly a lot safer to keep my spellbook and journal in this... Hammer-space... You gave me." He waved a grey hand and a knife appeared in it. Another similar gesture and it disappeared.

"Not totally free, you understand."

"Yeah," he replied. "Though bringing you every magic item and stopping by before major decisions doesn't seem like that high a cost - especially with the amount of money you included." Greyface tilted his head to the side, squinting at me.

"I haven't come close to telling you everything, mister amnesic immortal," I said to him with a grin and a light push. "I'll just say that the path you are on is needed for both of us - all I'll be doing is making it easier to walk on. Prove yourself with that - resolve your own mortality - and we can move into the real interesting stuff, got it?"

He agreed, and we headed into the next room.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Room twenty-five thousand, three hundred and ninety-seven.

We were taking a break. Through the use of a levitating platform and a very light pull chain, Nordom was acting as a trailblazer. He'd enter a room, clear it in moments, then come back and drag us into it. This had been going on for a few days. The small zone of silence over the floating sled made it very peaceful.

"Nessi," Greyface began, "how did you meet Rainbow here, anyways?"

"I was the created sister of a godlike intelligence that was then directed to fuse with his soul, prior to our saving a multi-dimensional series of inhabited worlds." She spoke quietly, huddled beside me. We had already gone over what could be shared and what shouldn't - that was one of the okay pieces.

His scarred face looked at me, as in disbelief, waiting for confirmation. I nodded in return, slightly. He gave out a mild grunt.

"You know, Rainbow... I can't help but think I've met Morte and Dak'kon before, some times. Maybe I forgot them, from a past life or something."

"Yep, Greyface. That is the case. Make sure you grill them on the full story before you leave, alright?"

He only made some contemplative sounds as he stared at the ceiling. With a light lurch, the platform moved again. Time for another room.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Room four hundred and sixty seven thousand, nine hundred and four.

"Happy Dungeon Day!" All of us, except for Nordom, shouted into the room. We had made a big deal out of today, as according to Nessi's calculations, we have been in here for two whole years. It was a rather large celebration, with masses of Conjured food, shooting targets and some other games. I had also adapted a set of magitech robots from Nessi's templates to act as a live band.

I bobbed my head to the sounds, while our rogue modron circled them, with his hand cannons making the odd clicking sounds.

Nessi offered me her finely detailed bronzed hand, and I accepted it. It was warm, smooth and soft. She had gained quite a large mastery of this magitech while we were here.

Slow dancing back and forth, I couldn't help but notice Greyface. He was just picking at his food - barely touching his cake. I angled the pair of us closer to him.

"How are you doing over there, Greyface?"

He grumbled in reply.

"That bad, eh?" I went through a few more movements with Nessi, silently, my hand on her low back. Her head was resting on my shoulder, with her own arms wrapped around me. "What's really going on?"

"This all feels fake," he began. "I know you've told me about the time-stop-like effect, but I can't help but think we're wasting ourselves in here. That has really come to the forefront of my mind in the last few weeks."

I made a few pondering noises in reply.

"Can you do an internal check with yourself, mister immortal? How much all the major memory unlocks have progressed and such?"

He stared at a far wall, distant expression on his face.

"I think I'm good. Well into the point of diminishing returns, really. At least for in here." He turned to me, hopeful. "You have a way to speed all this up, Rainbow?"

"Sort of," I replied. A few moments of focused thought dug out a find the path scroll template and I Conjured it. Offering it to him, I spoke again. "Try putting this into your spellbook and memory. They should be able to find us the most direct route to the end, but I don't know if they will work or not. We won't know till then."

He thanked me, pulling out his spellbook from hammer-space, flipping it to a blank page. Scroll on table, he pulled out some inking supplies and began the process of laboriously transferring the magical notation.

I could never be a wizard, I mentally spoke to Nessi. All that writing and research and so on.

It wouldn't be a problem for me, head-mate. I squeezed her closer in acknowledgement, as we slow danced some more.

Ready to go back and see the others again?

Absolutely!

Our steps continued through the different musical tracks of the robotic band. 'Kung fu fighting' was rather jarring, however.

One more thing to bug-fix.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Room four hundred and sixty eight thousand, seven hundred and two.

This was it. The find the path spell had worked perfectly, leading us through a winding series of rooms until we had arrived at this new site. The open doorway here was slightly different, with neon glowing magitech glyphs arching over it, embedded into the wall.

"So," I began. "Who wants to set up camp and hit this place in the morning?"

Everybody glared at me in their own way, and I held up my hands in supplication.

"Just kidding, people! Let's do this!"

...

What followed was the most epic curb stomp of epic curb stomps. After the Evil Wizard construct had gone through a few different spiels, Nordom had unleashed a stream of firepower into his head before he could get a single attack off. The rest of the high threat constructs were torn apart with ease. After that, the only thing remaining was to crush every single piece into the floor, walls and ceiling. We had a lot of frustration to work through.

I managed to pick up a rather unique gem from the wizard, but otherwise only joined in the fun.

"Hey! Greyface!" He turned towards me, battle hammer at the ready. "Get ready!" I soft pitched the wizard's punctured head towards him and he connected with it in a perfect hit. Far from launching it, the head instead exploded into pieces.

Nordom was playing 'keep-in-the-air' with a construct torso, alternating shots between his two hand-cannons. Nessi helped with the odd blast.

Not seeing any obvious exit sign - yet one more thing I'd have to bug-fix, or ask Nessi about - I re-examined the large gem, using a temporary portal to the side of the room to benefit from the portal scanner.

From the information that my lovely magitech companion passed me, it was a 'portal gem' with the ability to attach itself to remote, preexisting portals and travel through and to them. Fascinating. It might be the basis of an upgrade for my own portal key system, or the Domain as a whole. I'll have to see.

"Everybody ready to head out?" I shouted, causing the rest of them to make sounds of agreement and head towards me.

"Now then, I hope that everybody understands that I could have simply warped us out. However, that wasn't the end goal - it was to help out Greyface here," I angled my head to the mithril armoured man, "become as strong as possible."

There was some grumbling, but it wasn't really a surprise. It's not like the modron maze was still located in Limbo, after all. It was a part of me, now.

"So, mister immortal. I've hoped you've at least somewhat enjoyed your time in my little Sanctum," he gave me a grin and tapped my shoulder with a fist in response, "but I wanted to know if you remembered what I'm asking for from you."

"Sure, Rainbow," he replied. "The basics are every unique magical item and samples I could get my hand on, as well as bits and pieces from dead, downed and unique creatures. On top of that, mention any interesting intelligence and even slightly exceptional people to you, as well as stop by before I make any major decisions or leave Sigil. Sound about right?"

"Pretty much, Greyface. Make sure to go back and get that bronze sphere, a bit of that lich from the catacombs by the mortuary and a few of the other items you've stashed, as well as grilling Morte and Dak'kon about your shared pasts - before you head out again." I paused, considering. "I'm not asking for too much here, right?" He gave me a raised eyebrow look, as if to suggest 'are you kidding me?' I chuckled, shaking my head in seeing it. "Just checking. This is probably the longest time I've been with hanging out with someone, so I'm a bit leery of screwing it up."

"Friends?" I offered him my hand and he clasped it in agreement, shaking it firmly. Turning towards the newly created shimmering portal leading back into the Sigil front room, I spoke again.

"Remember that I know a lot more about you, okay? I'm holding things back because otherwise it would mess up your coming steps. For instance, you wouldn't really know what I mean if I said, 'hi there, Transcendent One!', right?"

He shook his head in the negative.

"Yeah, I thought so. Let's go."

We all walked into the shimmering portal and left the massive modron maze behind.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Append to Sanctum's Notepad:

- Bugfix and tweak that maze, connect it to the danger arena. Pass on the good news to the elite 300 once approved by Nessi.

- Do something with the portal gem for self-enhancement.

- Wait for Greyface to bring in some awesome stuff.

- Either get some qualified employees or use Jessica to mind the (non) store front. I'm not supposed to be cataloguing books, dammit!

- Cuddle Lionheart, Taylor and Ziz tons. Then do it some more. Afterwards, repeat.

- See if their is a god of advice or something around. There are likely some rather large egg shells in this multiverse, and I don't want to step into them.

0.6 - "In the Land of the Blind"

Sunday, August 5th, 2012 (Earth Bet calendar) - Outer Planes, Arcadia, Abellio layer, the Basilica of Saint Cuthbert

I wasn't easily able to directly form a portal to the interior of Saint Cuthbert's residence, his Bastion of Law. Instead, I made it farther out in the Peaceable Kingdoms of Arcadia, and 'walked' it in, invisibly, until I had gone so far as to be in direct sight of the seated deity. Personally, I found the rather strict ordered nature of the plane to be off-putting.

While he was not staring in the direction of the opening, I received the impression that he was aware of it regardless. I dropped whatever stealth features I had enabled and stared at him, quietly.

"Greetings, stranger," he spoke, moving his light grey haired head fractionally my way. "You've shown up in a rather unexpected manner. What are your intentions?"

I mentally gulped, then plowed straight ahead, preceding my words with a short bow.

"My apologies for this unorthodox appearance, Saint Cuthbert of the Cudgel," I said. "I'm... I'm a powerful being from outside your multiverse and I'm in grave need of advice." I took a deep breath, examining him for negative reactions. None were seen so far. "I've looked at the details of many gods spread across the outer planes and you seem the most qualified. Are... You willing to supply such, divine sir?"

Not speaking, he transfixed me with a stare. He nodded shortly thereafter.

"Yes," he stated simply, standing up from his Seat of Truth with the words. He continued to walk as he spoke, and I matched his pace via portal movement. "What is your name, entity stating himself to be from beyond our multiverse?"

"I have an alias that I've been using in Sigil, Rainbow Umbrella. An older, more accurate one would be 'Sanctum.' It identifies me as my greater self."

With that introduction, he paused, turned back and looked at me once more.

"Very well, Sanctum. Please follow me."

I kept silent as we exited his main hall, not paying attention to the other silent members therein.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

We had relocated to a less formal, though still well appointed, back office room. He seated himself on a rather severe looking, high backed wooden chair with armrests. He moved his infamous cudgel off of his belt, placing it beside the chair, once he was settled.

I Conjured a plush seat on my side, ensuring that the seated level was visibly lower than his own. No need to start a challenge of status over something so paltry.

"What is your situation, in that you come seeking my advice?" He asked.

"Alright..." I took a deep breath, working myself up. "Without getting into too much ancient history, I recently greatly assisted another multiverse - not my original one, a different one - and by doing so exhausted most of my need to be there."

"For the purposes of clarification, I have a rather unique source of food energy - I enhance myself via the completion of boons for other beings. It is a lossless energy gain. I'm also this very demiplane that my avatar is speaking to you from." I created a small booklet with a thought and extended it halfway out the portal. "This has the major details."

I waited while he took and leafed through it. Only the smallest contemplative sounds followed his actions. I had my hand out when I noticed he was nearly finished it.

He passed it back to me soon after, following his actions with a nod for me to continue.

"What I did there was improve the quality of life so extensively and so comprehensively that the overall need throughout that multiverse had lessened dramatically - or at least in one specific region," I said, doing my best to not rush the words. "In Sigil, and in many places across the planes here, there is a massive amount of wants and needs. However, there also exists divine beings, such as yourself, Saint Cuthbert."

"You are looking to balance your own drive for growth against the inherent nature of this multiverse, correct?" He asked me.

I nodded in reply, and he continued.

"You also understand that what you did previously would be disastrous here?"

Not fully certain, I gave him only a hesitant nod.

"Do you know how disastrous?"

I shook my head in the negative.

"Apart from the forces of balance and neutrality, there are other considerations," he said. "What do you know of godhood here in this multiverse, Sanctum?"

I shrugged, belatedly. He waited, passively refusing my non-answer.

"Not much. Only what the average cleric or scholar would know. Nothing restricted or secretive - at least it hasn't been passed on to me."

Saint Cuthbert nodded, speaking again once more.

"Know that much like in life and in the military, there are ranks of godhood. I myself am an intermediate deity, below the ranks of the greater. Lesser deities stand in turn below me. Greater deities may even rule over the gods below them, though even those beings may be in turn trumped by over-deities. Over-deities have no need for worshippers." He paused for a few breaths. "What do you know of gods outside this multiverse?"

"I can only really say that some being placed me on the path to grow to where I am now. He... It... Was powerful enough that simply being near him was all it took for my body and mind to comply with his unspoken thoughts. It was like I was simply an extension of his existence, and it didn't bother me at all." I gave an exaggerated shrug, pairing its time to my breath. "Afterwards, there was the shock at the experience, but... Not during. As far as the multiverse that I helped uplift a portion of is concerned, it had no incarnated god-like beings that I was aware of. It is possible that they exist on some unreachable or overlapping plane or layer, such as a there-local version of the Astral or Ethereal, but I was unable to check at the time."

He replied to my words only with some contemplative noises.

"As my - our - over-god does not want to be known by name, I will not reveal it to you," he said. "Know only that he was likely responsible for designing the very nature and dynamics of all the divinities in this multiverse, including our dependence on worshippers and the maintenance of our portfolios."

"Portfolios in this case meaning...?" I asked him.

"Our responsibilities, our divine connections, the basis of our powers and the fundamental aspects of our existences. Take for example one of my own - common sense. It defines as well as empowers me. I could literally be said to be common sense, in some measure."

Saint Cuthbert looked at me through the portal.

"Now, to answer the earlier question... You have a vast degree of freedom and implied nigh immeasurable power. If you were to act like a god in truth, you would be made such."

I reacted with a gasp-like sudden inhalation of breath, while he had merely a grim faced smile pasted on.

"Alternatively," he said, as if a casual aside, "you could be kicked out of here and barred from ever coming back."

He continued in the same measured tone of voice as before.

"The very act of your ascension would lock you into your portfolio, whatever it may be, and likely also chain you to this multiverse forever, or upon the whims of our over-diety. You would no longer have the degree of humanity that you have even now, and would likely be restricted further in your own power use. I'm assuming you don't want that, correct?"

I nodded empathetically several times.

"On that end, the most common sense advice I could give you is this: don't do anything that stresses how far your own existence is beyond mortals and close to that of deities - unless you want to become one in truth. No direct conflicts or encounters with divine beings, either, unless it is friendly and arranged prior."

He smiled widely, his light grey mustache shifting with the movement.

"I'll give you an exception for today," he concluded, still holding onto his smile.

I chuckled awkwardly, looking at the floor. Straightening up, I spoke again.

"Of course. Thank you, Saint Cuthbert." I paused to gather my thoughts. "That was... Substantially clear on what I should not do. What can I do, then? What would qualify as the largest 'boons' in this multiverse that would be permissible for me to accomplish, either in quantity or scope? What do you want, even?"

One of his free hands rubbed a mustache end while he remained in silence.

"You're getting out of my range of expertise, here," he replied. "I'll only refer again to what I said earlier - do what is in the scope of mortals. Considering the epic reach of a number of them, it shouldn't be too limiting. As far as what I want goes, I'll bring that up at the end. Anything else?"

"I have a few small things, Saint Cuthbert. Thank you for your time. I'll try to be as concise as possible."

He nodded, with a repeat of the earlier smile. He leaned back slightly in his chair and waited for me to continue.

"I have been having some... Romantic relationship issues due to my nature and those of my significant others. Any recommendations for whom to contact?"

"Your relationships would be about more than outward appearances, I take it?" Seeing my gesture of agreement, he continued after a few moments. "While there does exist quite a number of love, romance and various related fields among the divinities, not that many would be as useful in your unique situation." I sank with a visible sigh of resignation, while Saint Cuthbert worked at his mustache in silence. "How does this sound - the goddess of love and passion, who teaches the importance of equality in all kinds of relationships?"

"Ideal, actually," I replied, straightening up with optimism. "How would I get in touch with her?"

"I'll have someone direct you, Rainbow." He waved to outside the room, then motioned me to continue.

"I've been very paranoid about letting my friends and... Companions out of my greater self here, due to the threats to their souls and very being, in this multiverse. Is my fear justified? I mean... Without them, truly without them, I don't see much reason for... Anything, really."

Saint Cuthbert scowled, while one hand tightly gripped the head of his chair-leaning cudgel.

"Magic and practices relating to harming and the trade in souls are some of the darkest and most foul evil acts," he vehemently spoke. "It should absolutely not be expected to be commonplace or readily available. You have my conditional, though open-ended and ongoing, permission and encouragement to purge such soul manipulators, as well as make all but the most extreme efforts to recover your friends if they fall prey to them."

I uttered words of thanks in reply.

"If - and only if - your case and situation is just, I'll support it if needed among my divine brethren. However, while you should not expect anything like that to happen, take all reasonable and beyond precautions. One of my aides can give you further specifics."

We both remained in silence as I gathered my thoughts.

"I was previously denied an opportunity to get a 'no man' for myself," I said. "Most of my internal social and support group tend to reinforce our existing biases, and I am absent a reasonable voice of dissent and constructive criticism. Some extremes, such as a devil, would provide an easy counter, but... The whole lawful aspect does not out weigh the evil. It is heightened in impact by how according to this multiverses' codified system of alignment, I'm trying to stay between the realms of neutral and chaotic good. I'd welcome recommendations there, as well."

I adjusted my position on the plush brown chair, remaining focused on Saint Cuthbert. His face had tightened with my mentions of devils and evil, as well as my own likely chaotic tendencies. He didn't comment on them with anything more than a glare, which faded as he began to speak.

"My perspective, and those that follow my path, are of justice, law and common sense. We are not contrary or oppositional merely for its own sake. An advisor from myself could be summed up through the asking of a single question: 'what is the sensible, reasonable and just thing to do in this situation?' Go along with that, and there should be no problems." He shrugged, running his hands over his chairs' armrests. "Regardless, I'll ask around. No easily cowed mortal or petitioner, of course."

"Thank you," I said. "Those were the biggest ones, Saint Cuthbert. I know even my presence here was an imposition, but I am grateful for your willingness to speak with me regardless." I took a deep breath, bracing myself for possible disappointment. "For the future, would anything be possible...?" I left the question open, looking at the armoured divine elder hopefully.

He drummed his fingers over the wooden armrests.

"It is not commonplace to call on gods for regular advice. That is what the priesthoods are for. However, in your case, there exists a rather weighty significance of actions and impact. It would be a disservice to myself if, by removing myself from being accessible to you, some calamity came to pass."

He smiled, mustache twitching with the action.

"Regardless, communications with me should have a degree of formality and not be mere social calls. Assuming that the need is dire and your own resources are in doubt, you may attempt to reach me via an entreaty at one of my altars." Saint Cuthbert visibly looked at the open area around and behind me, through the portal. "You could try setting up one within your own space, as well."

"Thank you, I'll do so," I said. "There was the earlier mention of boons or requests on your part...?"

"If you truly have the willingness and capacity to affect great and small change, there are a number of things..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Elsewhere, later that day...

The newly created portal opened into the back yard of a small temple. The scents and sounds of a large medieval city wafted in, and I adjusted the filters to remove them.

The woman who I suspected was the goddess Lastai walked out from behind a peach tree.

"Your divinity, goddess Lastai...?" I called out to her in inquiry and she approached, gazing up at the portal I was behind. She walked a full circle around it, returning to face me again.

When she nodded with a smile, her long, unbound golden-brown hair shifting with the movement, I created a marble stone stairway with gold railings, section by section. Completed, it was extended down towards her at ground level. Once she had gracefully placed both her tan-colour sandaled feet on the bottom steps, I had it pulled back in.

"Greetings, Lastai, goddess of pleasure, love and passion. Thank you for making your time available." I made a gesture of invitation towards each person as I introduced them, starting with myself. "I go by Rainbow Umbrella, with the more formal title of Sanctum. These four lovely ladies are all Taylor - one person, just to clarify - while the tall, many-winged, platinum angel is Ziz. Nessi here, is as dear to me as she is incomprehensibly brilliant."

The goddess beamed a radiant smile at each, as they were focused on by turn. She was wearing what appeared to be a simple beige one-piece peasant dress, but the odd glimmers and hints of transparency implied that it was made of something more than mundane cloth.

"It is my hope that my being here will be an equal pleasure for all, Rainbow Umbrella," she said. "You are welcome, and thank you for inviting me into... Yourself?"

In response to her question, I sank into the floor up to my ankles and caused an arm, with waving hand attached, to come out of the wall. Still smiling, she waved back at it. It receded fully and I leveled myself out of the ground.

Lastai focused on the group again, then stilled herself, looking into the distance. She pursed her lips, contemplatively.

"I have a feeling that there should be two more here - a couple," she said. "Is there such here?"

I made an involuntary sound of surprise, then looked at the small group around us.

"Yes," I replied, "though I consider them more as valued employees than anything else."

She merely kept her honey-brown eyes focused on my own, silently. I sighed in defeat and nodded.

"Please hold on, goddess Lastai. I'll encourage their attendance..."

Once more sinking into the floor, I focused on the remote presences of Jessica and Silla. Not wanted any visual indications of what they were doing, I spoke my voice into their suite. 'I have Lastai, the goddess of pleasure, love and passion, here in her divine self, wanting you two to show up and meet her. Are you willing to, or...?'

A number of shouts, crashes and odd noises of distress followed, ending with a more coherent 'a few minutes!'

"They are getting ready," I said. "It will take a number of minutes." I finished withdrawing from the ground as I spoke.

"Not a problem, Sanctum," she said with her ever present smile. Looking around the simple vestibule setup I had arranged, she asked a question of me.

"Is there a more suitable location we can relax in?"

"Would you prefer a living green space or something indoors?"

"Outdoors, please," she answered.

Nodding, I teleported directly into the midst of the Greenery, the dominion of my Guardian and gardener, Bohu.

"Bohu! I have a goddess wanting to come here!" I spoke loudly into the forest, not directing my words to any one place. "Can you please make a private little area for myself, the inner circle and a few more? Fruits, flowers and generally idyllic nature scenes?"

There was no verbal reply, but the plants and trees around me had all but exploded into movement. Vines were shifting, flowers were growing, and the very ground beneath my feet was changing into a mossy carpet.

"Thank you, Bohu!" I said in the same loud voice. "I'll aim to teleport us all right here in about one minute! Very much appreciated!" Before I left, I petted the nearest leafy branch. It curled around my hand briefly before flowing off again.

I teleported back to the group and updated them about the situation, followed by another remote message to Jessica and Silla. Preparations complete, I directed the group and goddess to come closer.

"I'll take us all to the Greenery, please gather round," I said. With a minor amount of shuffling, everyone came in touching distance of each other. A finger snap was the trigger to bring us there.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Bohu had impressed everyone with her efforts, if the various words of praise and appreciation were any indication. What was originally a random spot amongst a nearly primal wilderness had been transformed into a pocket of nature's paradise.

Lastai demurely trail-blazed, taking off her tan coloured sandals. Following their subtle disappearance, she walked barefoot across the thick, dense and luscious green mossy carpeted ground. She stopped at a half sun-lit area, and twirled around once, laughing. She ended up facing the rest of us, who were torn between amusement and adoration of her antics.

"This is absolutely lovely," she said. "Who did all this?" Lastai kept on examining the plant life arrangement near her slightly sunny spot. Flowers were smelt, and leaves were touched with the odd fingertip.

I matched her own joy with my own smile, and waved my arms to encompass the entire area.

"There is only one gardener here - Bohu, and she is the forest herself." I petted the nearest vine for emphasis, which snaked over my arms and shoulders, then pulled itself back, slowly.

Lastai followed through with the same experience, though I will admit seeing mobile vines moving over her was... Interesting.

"Thank you, Bohu," she said. "You've done an absolutely wonderful job here. I'm grateful to bear witness to it."

The whole forest around us shuddered slightly, with the groan-like sounds of tree trunks bending approaching. As the light above was blotted out, a pair of flood-like bright eyes blinked into existence, centered on Lastai.

They disappeared soon again thereafter, along with the shade of her core trunk. A branch nearly as thick as myself came down to our glade in exchange, all but drooping and overloaded with natural edibles of all kinds.

With a now familiar sound of delight, she picked a large, red fruit and worked on eating it. Amidst her sounds of appreciation, she reclined further against the mossy ground, adjusting her beige dress while doing so.

Fruit finished, she clapped her hands lightly.

"So!" She exclaimed happily, looking at us. "Who wants to begin? Saint Cuthbert only mentioned that there was an unique and rather complicated situation in which I was requested for."

While she was checking for a response, all of the now-seated individuals faced my way. Defeated, I faked a cough as a method of securing attention further.

"First of all, I would properly define and introduce myself and the others here." I gave as deep a bow I could from my seated position. "I'm the physical embodiment - avatar, aspect, genius loci and so on - of this irregular demiplane we are all in, and go by Rainbow Umbrella as a commonly used alias in Sigil, with Sanctum being the name of the entire collective." A hand wave around, especially in the direction of the past disappearing eyes, pointed out another note-worthy individual. "This lovely greenery and the bright eyes earlier were the representation of Bohu, my Guardian, gardener and mistress of this living place, who is paired by the shy, triple aspected Tohu, yet another Guardian. I don't know if we'll see her today or not."

I stared at my platinum skinned, Guardian angel, while mentally running over aspects of my bound protectors.

"Guardians are beings of unusually high power, often themed to a specific power set, that I have eternally bonded to my demiplane self. While I could not state with certainty how they lived before they became such, I've done a lot to ensure that their life here is pleasant - and should probably do more so." I looked at the tallest member of our group, who fanned out her many wings and white hair in response of the attention. "Ziz here, my beloved platinum angel, is another one. There are a few more in total, some of which I am friendly with but not necessarily close to."

The others had sat in a roughly circular pattern, with Lastai and myself being just two points on it.

"Nessi is the most brilliant of us all, in depth, width and processing ability," I said, while I pointed to her disguised form, "while the Taylors are one being that can inhabit multiple bodies. There is greater elaborations in their power sets, as well as my own, but I'm not necessarily saying everything unless it is required for the purpose at hand." A half smile accompanied that confession.

"Let me check on the couple."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They were finally ready, and I was able to bring them back to the Greenery with no trouble.

"These two are my most incredibly valued direct employees," I said, pointing towards the newly present gorgeous brunette and blond. "Jessica has been working as my personal assistant, while Silla has been filling in for a number of different tasks while we are getting settled in." Both waved shyly at Lastai as their names were being mentioned. They were wearing colourful matching silken robes that went down to mid-thigh. Depending on how they were worn, they robes could qualify as sleep wear or Oriental themed club gear.

I frowned as I focused back on my own situation, shifting my position on the mossy ground as the discomfort registered. A few sips of water-filled flowers helped.

"I will of course admit that the current situation is a combination of my own preferences, powers and nature, all of which create some building physical and mental stresses for myself, and likely the others as well." A visual scan confirmed that with nods by the others. I grimaced at the sight and closed my eyes. "One of my oldest powers revolves around the creation of a romantic interest towards me. I've been very reluctant to explore it, as my understanding of the power hands a lot of control over to the vagaries of fate and I don't want to impose my will on others that way..."

Hearing a polite cough, my eyes opened and sourced the noise. It was L, who inclined her head in recognition when I faced her.

"Rainbow, I want to clarify something," Lastai said, my spiel already interrupted. "What would be the difference between someone falling in love with you naturally versus doing so via your mentioned power? It is some mental compulsion or merely a nudging of fate and nurturing what grows out of it?"

"Well, Lastai, it is obvious. They... Ah..." I froze up with the absence of a quick reply at hand. There has to be something. More than that, there has to be something different than the regular falling in love process.

I've got it!

"They would do so quicker than normal and would likely have an eternal, steady romantic affection for myself, if supported on my end. It would also occur with limited, if any at all, prompting or initial encouragement on my part."

"How would that be perceived negatively, then?" Lastai continued to sample the odd small fruit from the filled branch beside her. She chewed, slowly, as she waited for my reply.

Um. Good question.

"To simply say that 'some people would fall in love with me that I don't want to' seems rather simplistic, so I'll expand on it." I had a another sip of the tranquil flower-sourced water. "If I had only wanted some sort of harem or collection of beauties of different types, I'd be tempted to understand and exploit that power to the maximum. I'd have no personal interest or inclination in understanding them as individuals and there would be no negative impact in 'collecting' more."

"However, my current arrangement and preference is far different from that." I closed my eyes tightly and angled my face towards the ground as much as possible. I increased my vocal volume to compensate. "In truth, I am looking for and wanting unique beings that are capable of loving me and every other one included, as well as having the vitally needed preexisting or potential ability to match, counter or exceed my own powers. Beyond that, they would be friends, companions, mates, lovers, partners..." I scrunched up very tightly against the mossy ground. "...Wives."

A number of sighs, squeaks and other exhalations of surprise came in reply to my last word.

"So it is not so much an issue of capacity, willingness or inability to return love on your part, but more along the lines of very long term compatibility with yourself. You don't want to draw in anyone that would be unsuitable for yourself, as well as for anyone you are already connected to. Correct...?" Lastai asked me.

I nodded, making accompanying sounds of verbal agreement.

"Is that a source of personal conflict in you as well?" She inquired further.

"Yes..." My response trailed off as I gathered my thoughts. "While those are my ultimate intentions towards them, I don't know their long-term preferences in general, towards me or each other. I've put off exploring the exact details for another reason." Lastai prompted me to continue. "It boils down to Taylor not being of calendar age of majority in her own society of origin. I've used that as a reason to limit my intimate connections with her and the others to simple, close, long-term physical proximity. In a word, cuddling."

I clammed up extensively at this point. Perhaps it was the environment or the divine qualities of Lastai, but I've found myself to be speaking more extensively than I originally planned.

"Thank you, that is very helpful in understanding the situation," Lastai said, another smile lighting up her face framed by golden-brown hair. "Are there any additions or clarifications to be made in regards to what Rainbow said here?"

I sat up and looked around cautiously. After some time of silence, I think Ziz said something like 'craving.'

"I had made an extremely blatant sexual seduction attempt towards Rainbow quite a ways back," Nessi said. "It was based on some rather... Simplistic and superficial forms of attraction. He rebuffed it and reaffirmed his interpretation of my core identity, instead of some abstracted fantasy. I've roughly kept to that image since then."

Nessi made as if to kiss the air my way, while I stealthily 'grabbed' the invisible projectile and ate it.

She then elaborated on a different aspect of our relationship.

"He also did not explicitly mention that he has had his own sexual drive turned down and suppressed, rather substantially, for almost the entire time I've known him."

I opened my mouth to add something in, but a Taylor spoke first. All of them were looking everywhere except at myself.

"I heavily hinted something along the same lines over a year ago, using a rather roundabout method," she said, flush creeping in to the faces of the four. "Since and before that time, the extent of our connections have been the odd chaste kiss of affection or greeting, mixed with a number of lengthly, though tame, irregularly scheduled massages. I've been working on developing my relationships with Nessi and Ziz, as well as trying to be more supportive of... Rainbow in general." She stopped speaking with a series of shrugs spread among her selves.

Everybody had clustered into their own little sections by this point. Jessica and Silla were together at one side of the small covered glade, while Nessi, Ziz and the four Taylors were in another. Lastai and myself were located on the last two sides.

Lastai then directed her attention to the silent couple.

"Do either of you have anything to add?" She asked. "I was drawn to include you both in this discussion, but I had no specific idea why."

Jessica and Silla looked at each other, stuck in some sort of nonverbal 'you go first!' battle.

"This is rather... Oh, what the hell." Jessica said with a huff. "I like to flirt and tease and tempt and so on, but that all came to a crashing halt the very first day I worked for Rainbow. I was recommended to him by a mutual acquaintance, so to say -" Lisa, otherwise known as Tattletale "- and he took one look at my getup and disapproved, demanding rather conservative styles instead. The next day I showed up in such and was accepted in, and I've been working for him ever since." She hugged Silla from behind, quietly. "I've occasionally altered what I've worn to be even more conservative, such as heavy glasses. He seems to prefer it."

Jessica looked at me, her head beside her partners, and I nodded, blank faced. Lastai invited me to speak with a finger gesture.

"She hit the highlights," I said. "Jessica was - and perhaps still is - a complication in my head I prefer to keep simple by distance of a few different types. From the very first time I was introduced to her, a number of things were very prevalent. They included a top-tier appearance which radiated seductive appeal, a sense of fashion that matched that, her status as 'taken' in a serious long-term relationship, and a sexual orientation towards her own gender." Looking at Jessica, I raised my eyebrows in an unspoken question. She nodded in agreement. "Of those four points, I only wanted to concentrate on the third. I never empathized my shape-shifting abilities around her, especially of switching my own gender and appearance."

I heard a cough, and saw Silla covering her mouth. With my eyes caught, she jabbed Jessica a few times. Her partner didn't speak, instead burying her face and brunette hair in that of Silla's blond tresses. She sighed loudly, listening to Jessica whisper something to her.

"We both knew that, at least for quite some months now. Jessica here," Silla spoke, jabbing her partner with her elbow a few more times, "likes to have me role-play as you. I'll say that things are substantially different on those 'work' days." She smirked until Jessica reached around with both hands and squeezed her chest. With a squawk of outrage, more elbow jabbing commenced, mixed with some tickling.

They were the focus of everyone until I spoke again.

"While there may be some tension of sorts in our current and very professional relationship, I'm happy with it and don't want to influence it negatively," I said. "They are like this small, brilliant shining light and have been made very precious to me. Nearly anything and everything they want I can do to support their relationship, their enjoyment of each other and their happiness I have no reservations to committing to."

My genuine smile to the couple was spoiled by the 'awwww' sounds they made. Bohu covered them with dinner plate sized leaves, and their noises soon died out. It was soon replaced by wet sounds that I hoped were just kissing.

I shook my head a few times and continued.

"I've done the best I could in regards to my draw towards them, short of putting in a mental or visual block in myself," I let out with a sigh.

"That sounds rather complete for the moment," she said, turning to face me again more directly. "Thank you for encouraging and supporting them."

I gave Lastai another smile which paled beside her own.

"Going back to your own situation, it almost seems like you are waiting till some time in the future - less than a year from now - where you will stop your own internal repression," she addressed me. "To go from a complete halt to a full speed gallop. Is that correct?"

I wilted under her gaze.

"Not... Exactly," I said, hesitantly. "I had actually planned on keeping all those suppressions active, if not adding even more to them. The only thing I'd change is absenting my 'no,' adding more encouragement and instances of 'yes' as appropriate." I presented a wry smile. "Perhaps also handing them a spray bottle of custom made aphrodisiacs or such."

"Why would you do that, Rainbow?" She asked me, tilting her head in inquiry. "It doesn't seem healthy or fulfilling for yourself at all."

I looked around the little tropical paradise we were all resting in. Following Lastai's example, everybody had their eyes focused on me. Jessica's and Silla's mouths glistened with... Fruit juices. No other possible explanation. None.

"You sure that you all want to hear this?" I asked them. "It is painful to speak about, and it will likely be painful to hear as well. Things... Perspectives could change." A part of me really hoped that they would cave in, go along with me. I'd be able to breathe a sigh of relief and go back to the ever-escalating degree of denial that I was living in every day.

Like an act of goddess, a chorus of positive agreements were sent my way.

Oh goody.

"While I appreciate the attention and focus that has been directed towards my avatar self," I waved a hand down my self, indicating my 'Mike' persona and body, "there is little real recognition to my greater self." I spread my hands wide and looked around.

"Pardon, Bohu," I whispered. A few leaves ruffled my hair as I slowly sank into the ground, going through the moss, soil and stone below. I kept a small open pocket of space around my upper body but otherwise disappeared from the group's sight. With a small portal made, I tagged Emoth through it and returned a number of Earth-bound powers to my control.

Finally hitting the deeper solid ground, I believed myself to be in compliance with the self-imposed restriction of only using Domain scale powers while I was at least partially 'rooted' into it.

Reattaching to my greater awareness, I slowly created a massive animated sculpture out of nearest wall of the Greenery. By the time my stony arms and half my chest were out, the statue form had eclipsed the small artificial sun and covered nearly half of the multi-kilometer spanning managed forest.

When my head fully shadowed the glade where the others were seated, they looked up. As Bohu pulled back her leaves, a few gasps sounded. I waved a hand at least the size of a city block and focused my attention on them again, making sure to send sound directly instead of unleashing it as a shockwave generating blast.

"Hey down there," I projected. While my massive form's lips moved, the sound appeared to come from a whisper right beside each of them instead. "Still sure you want to hear it?"

Shortly after, another set of agreements followed. I gave them all a thin-lipped smile in reply, and closed both my sets of eyes.

"A large number of my recent power developments... Growths..." Consumptions and acts of Subsuming. "Have given my greater self more and more sheer life. However, I have... Squelched it. More than that, even - much like a dry sponge that has never tasted water, so too are those living parts of me denied, suppressed, compressed and kept dead. I don't want to overwhelm any of you, or drive you away or even simply appear too strange or inhuman... I've been pushing the angle of keeping my 'humanity' active for so long that I've been denying a whole other aspect of my existence. That I can be and am both. Its like... I don't know. Its painful, but I don't see any other way of managing. With living with all of you."

I withdrew my gigantic self back into the wall before any large tears could fall on the gathered individuals. I kept in my small underground space as I cried instead. Only a few seconds passed before the roots of Bohu were comfortingly stroking and pressing against my back contained within this little subterranean pocket.

With a sigh, I rubbed my face clean with my colourful suit sleeve and did a quick once-over on myself with assorted freshening up effects. Done, I granted the earthen powers back to Emoth via a portal and reemerged back into my original spot. No longer a lone corner, it was instead surrounded by the Taylors, Nessi and Ziz. Jessica and Silla were somewhat closer, but still coupled together.

"Hello..." I weakly greeted them. Moments later, I was all but buried under a most comfortable wave of limbs, hair and wings.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

We all had assorted very fresh fruit, nuts and edible petals before returning to our prior conversation. Drinks were various forms of water, from cold stream fed to collected flower dew. It was a very 'land of the fairies' vibe.

Finished, Lastai settled herself among a mossy pile and addressed me.

"Rainbow, from what you said earlier, it seems like you believe that you are torn between two equally distasteful options. The first being a slow death of sorts, surrounded by those you love, while the second being living your full self, while driving away those very same people - in mind, if not in actuality. Does that paint a complete picture?"

I glumly nodded from my position on Ziz's lap. She was sitting cross legged, and I was in the the midst of that. The Taylors and Nessi were right in front of me, leaning against my own and Ziz's legs, with the assistance of a few mossy cushions.

Lastai didn't speak further, but instead looked around at the others with an open smile, as if to invite them to speak. Ziz broke the silence with a flutter of her wings.

"Wanting," she murmured, in a kind of loud, breathy sigh, right above my head. It was followed by a hug that pressed me against her. Even after her arms relaxed slightly, I was still able to have my back be solidly supported by her presence.

Like a dam broken, everybody else put in their own form of agreement. It was rather overwhelming. Strange, even.

"I'm grateful for you all being welcoming of this aspect of myself, but... None of you know what will actually happen. I don't either. All I can say is that I will be more active, more alive - the Sanctum me, if nothing else. Are you willing to put that all to blind faith and trust?" I asked them.

A Taylor poked my bare foot with a finger.

"Ziz is hardly blind faith, Rainbow," she said, followed by a smile. A blink or two preceded my comprehension, and I smiled back at her. I suppose the best precognitives are the ones you don't even remember are such.

"Well then... I'll start relaxing into those aspects of my self," I said with a smile back. It narrowed when I continued. "Keep in mind that I may be unable to be as selectively blind as before. I don't know how it will pan out, so..."

I shrugged, and the Taylor shifted her face into a smirk, eyebrows wiggling and all.

Oh boy.

"Were there any other issues to address?" Lastai asked the assemblage. A barrage of questions and comments followed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"How many days of consecutive sexual activity does it take before it becomes 'too much'?"

"Teasing."

"What really defines 'sex', anyways?"

"If you put out in the first century, does that mean you're easy?"

"How close to actual sexual acts would be appropriate, given the restrictions Rainbow is operating under?"

"Does it count if you're shapeshifted into a plant? What about in a shared dream?"

"Kissing."

"Does 'no' ever mean 'do it again until I pass out on the floor foaming from my mouth'?"

"Extra friendly tentacles - yay or nay?"

"Where do baby gods come from?"

"Is it cheating if you both really really really want it?"

"Wanting."

"If you are inhabiting multiple bodies, do only some of them 'count'? What is the tipping point? Is it a percentage or a certain number?"

"Is it fair to deny pleasure or make them beg for it?"

"Naughty clone mirror duplicates - would they help or hinder things in the bedroom? How about unseen servants? Is it unfair to intelligent summons to have them assist or deny them participation? What about constructs?"

"Is it cheating if your clone does things? Even if you have no control over it? Or watch? Or... Help...?"

"What is a good policy on using magical alternatives to sleep and dietary needs - rarely, regularly, context dependent...?"

"Is there a sane, reasonable limit for the length of time orgasms last? Minutes, hours, days...? ...Weeks...?"

"If certain liquids could be changed in to be tasty and nutritious, should that practice be encouraged?"

"Is 'conquer the enemy via sexual exhaustion' ever an encouraged or preferred tactic?"

"Tickling."

"How do you deal with precognition? Is using it an unfair romantic advantage?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"...And if you could plant some more peach trees, it would be appreciated. Thank you." Lastai closed off her words with a hug to all of us, ending with me. She briefly held my hands in her own as she spoke.

"You're a very lucky being, Rainbow Umbrella, Sanctum. Make sure to treasure them - and yourself - and you will have very rewarding life together." Her words ended, she turned to go down the recreated stone steps to the church grounds we picked her up from. I had made the portal and steps directly from the Greenery this time, saving an unnecessary series of group teleports.

As she walked out of sight, we all waved and sent well wishes her way, while I retracted and dissolved the staircase. The last image of her was a side profile of her smiling face, framed by her long, loose hanging golden-brown hair. I closed the portal right after.

"That went rather well," I said. "Anybody have different takes on our divine visitation?"

Nobody did, though Silla seemed eager to speak.

"Jess and me volunteer to be the unofficial priestesses of Lastai here in Sanctum!" I only blinked in incomprehension at her declaration. "She has some rather interesting worship rituals, and we can... Multi-task... By doing them at her altar."

Jessica only murmured into the back of Silla's head in elaboration.

"Saint Cuthbert had also encouraged me to put an altar in here for him, so that I could have an emergency divine hot line, so to speak," I added to the idea Silla had proposed. "Given adequate screening and protections, I have no objections to some divine or quasi-religious areas."

The entwined couple let out a few quiet cheers before I continued.

"For your work, please coordinate with Nessi for some ideal designs for chapels and altars of those two deities, alright?"

They agreed, already whispering between each other. I imagined that 'naughty priestess costumes' would soon be on their to-be-Conjured lists.

"There wasn't much time between when I talked with Saint Cuthbert and we met Lastai. Would you like to hear about it?" I directed the question to the whole group, though Nessi answered with a question of her own.

"Wait a second - I thought that you didn't get to meet him, just one of his aides. The one that told you about the soul level protections and where to find Lastai, right...?"

I blinked at her, frowning.

"Nessi..." I began, slowly. "I talked to him for quite a while. Are you sure that you can't access any of my memories around it?" I held her hands as her face flickered through a few different sets of emotions.

"Nope, head-mate..." She replied, equally slowly. "Nothing on Saint Cuthbert. It is the same sort of situation that occurred when you talked about the... The Dark Powers of the Demiplane of Dread, I guess."

We both looked at the Taylors, inviting one of them to speak.

"I've noticed something weird," the closest one between us said. "There are certain sections that correspond to those times that I just automatically skip in Mike's life-book. With a bit of experimentation, I've managed to get it to open to those sections, but I still can't read them - its like my eyes slide right off. Same thing with the sight of controlled insects and even video recordings of the material." Seeing my panicked expression, she elaborated further. "Don't worry - I haven't kept any."

"Huh. It might have something to do with my latent divinity," I mused, rubbing my chin in contemplation. Seeing their stares, I elaborated. "Part of the 'package deal' that came with being bound to this place and all the powers that came with it was the implication that I could become an ascendant, divine being myself. It wouldn't be anything close to a short time line, though - estimates put it to hundreds of thousands of years, only being reduced via the tome of guidance that my platinum angel here has kept in storage." I patted her nearby thigh, and her wings fluffed me in response. "When you consider that I'm not pursuing it in the slightest, well..."

Nessi and the Taylors were quiet, digesting these new pieces of information.

"Another thing is that both of them were outside of my Domain, and addressing me in particular," I began. "All of you can remember Lastai, right? What she talked about, looked like and so on?"

The Taylors and Nessi confirmed mental notes, and my own memories validated it. That was one thing settled, at least.

"What about the Lady of... Sigil? The dabuses of her city - didn't one or two come through the portal-scanner? Fell, the fallen one, as well?" I directed the question to my gynoid partner, who had dropped her disguise used during the divine visitation. The newly familiar bronze and blue of the magitech chassis was on full display, if clothed by a colourful bodysuit.

"Now that you mention it, Mike-ster, there are a few notable sections I can't access at all from their memories. Do you want me to transfer them for display to you?" She asked me.

"STOPPING," Ziz loudly spoke, her single word resonating throughout the clearing.

The platinum angel did just that - every single leaf, dust mote, branch, flower and bit of clothing were frozen solid in mid movement as far as we could see and feel. If not for her loud and sudden interruption, I'd be impressed by the amazing display of telekinesis just demonstrated.

Once everybody had their attention direction to my Guardian, the effect released itself. Bohu, the least impressed of all of us, attempted to dump a bunch of half rotten leaves on her large, white-haired head. It was unsuccessful, turned instead into a greenish brown rotating halo.

Jessica and Silla looked at us strangely, but seeing no immediate emergency turned back into their own conversation.

"Um," I spoke with an absolute lack of eloquence. "Let's... Not do that, then." Ziz's feathers fluffed me in agreement. "Please go further than that, actually - identify and block off those sections, with time-stamps and some identifiers, and put them behind a time-lock like what happened for the omnidimensional perception power." I frowned, chewing my lip. "In fact, put it a week after that power gets unlocked, using the same requirements for the week in question. That sound alright?"

I directed the question between Nessi and Ziz, getting gestures of agreement from both.

"Please let me know if anything like that happens to either of you again, okay?"

Following their replies, I began to go into detail with my talk with Saint Cuthbert.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Taylor summed up the whole experience rather well.

"Godhood here is strange," she said. "Ranks of divine beings? Over-gods? It sounds like somebody took the ancient Greek pantheon and expanded on it, tremendously. No god tier psychotherapists, either. Maybe there would be a market for them? Or epic mood stabilizing pills?" Her questions trailed off into silence as she contemplated them.

Jessica and Silla had been sent off earlier via a portal, while we remained in the Greenery in a comfortable pile.

"I definitely agree on not wanting you to become a god here, though," the same Taylor spoke. Nessi reaffirmed that statement with her own agreement.

"The mention of epic mortals is not as bad as you think, Mike-ster," Nessi said, from her position beside me. I offered her a sound of inquiry and she elaborated. "Some of them have leveled mountains, flipped them over and turned them into flying cities... Temporary stole the power of the gods... Killed gods... Traveled to the realm of dreams, created a true-breeding species, raised islands, summoned dragons and more. Pretty much the only practical limits are in regards to not having or empowering worshippers."

"No kidding? Wow." Not the most eloquent of replies, but it got my point across. I had originally thought that Saint Cuthbert had seriously crippled me. As long as I can reasonably measure my own deeds against other mere epic mortals, I should be safe from involuntary ascension. "Though I think the Lady will be far more stringent in Sigil. I have not heard about much epic activity in there, apart from mercantile types. Though the 'no direct conflict' guideline with gods might hamper things."

"Again, Mike - not as much as you think." She paused to poke my forehead. "Gods and god-tier beings tend to use lesser avatars and aspects - shadows and lesser duplicates of their selves. Those have been handedly defeated by mortals over the ages, while the case for true god combat and destruction is far more spotty."

"Still, I like the idea of being able to run off to your rescue - or just to see your moments of glory, as the case may be," I said. "Doing 'all but the most extreme efforts' is almost tempting..."

The nearest Taylor tapped my shoulder with a closed fist.

"Does that mean it should be safe enough for me to head out, then?" She asked me. "Assuming I have some death wards, various contingency effects and so on, of course."

Two Taylors sandwiched me with the question, giving me their personal best impression of puppy dog eyes. I chuckled at the sight of them.

"We have less than a week for the construction to be done on the stronghold room, as well as two incoming ships and I just started relaxing into my Domain self, Tays..." I had my eyes closed and my arms around the pair as I defended my wait-and-see position. Very cute annoyed sounds followed. "How about this - as soon as we establish even a minor foothold into another multiverse, we'll start things in this one and the other as well. In the meantime, you can check out the types of places you'd like to visit, things to do and preparations to make, alright my Empress?"

Sounds of resigned agreement were her only reply, though she did snuggle rather delightfully up against me.

"I may have some headway on that, Mike-ster," Nessi said, and all the Taylors and myself focused on her with this announcement. "I've been doing the 'beacon' based searching method in the disposable time-line, and there exists some heavy implications that a concordant point is coming in under a week. It will be the ideal time to make a connection to this other multiverse."

"With the hope that it isn't an universe destroying explosion, of course," I added in.

Nessi showed me her crossed fingers, paired up with a grin.

"It is also Ziz approved! Hints of a working internet and a hi-tech society were all that she was willing to pass my way otherwise, though."

We were all silent as this new piece of information sunk in. My right-hand Taylor broke it with a question.

"What about the power advisory group?" She asked. "Shouldn't we check in with them - and a few others - before settling into a new routine of sorts?"

I made some contemplative sounds before responding.

"Of course," I said. "Thank you for the reminder, Tays. One more thing to do."

"There is another big thing to consider, Mike," she murmured quietly into my neck. "I don't know what you really think about it, though... Or if you want to hear it..."

Not knowing what exactly she was referring to, I only offered wordless sounds of encouragement.

"It has to do with your offer to me and my dad way back, near to when you first appeared on Earth Bet." Her words were already at the point of being inaudible to normal humans. "A massive list of power up options, topped off with the idea of being the 'best headquarters ever.' I got a number of powers out of it, but..." The Taylors on either side hugged me tight. "...Sometimes it seems more like a nanny-state than a base... Or home."

I kept silent in a form of shock. I couldn't disagree with what she was saying, even though I wanted to.

"So..." Her words trailed off into silence before she spoke again. "Since we aren't in a war-torn set of universes, I really hope that you mean it about going out and supporting me, rather than providing the most comfortable gilded cage in existence."

Expression drooping, I hugged the pair of them back.

"When you go on your journeys," I whispered, "I'll find a way to come out with you."

They made a series of happy sighs. I could feel a flush building in their faces as they worked up to talk again.

"You know," the right-most Taylor spoke, "I'm already yours. I... Talked to Ziz and did the whole... Death and resurrection thing while you weren't paying attention. I'm bound here, to you."

My shock at this revelation was side-lined by what that all meant, as well as the way the words were lightly breathed into my ear.

"So," she continued, "on my birthday I hope that I'll get lots of nice presents. You, however, will be getting four of them to unwrap."

Eight individual hands briefly squeezed my limbs. That particular message was abundantly clear.

"Wanting," Ziz added behind me, wings squeezing around the paired Taylors and myself.

Now that you mention it, head-mate, I think that date will be the perfect time to test some new chassis features. Lots of experiments to run.

As the wind passed my words of love and appreciation directly to the ears of the huddled group around me, I put out a different challenge to the universe: this can't possibly get any better, can it?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Append to Sanctum's Notepad:

- Birthday plans. Start planning. Plan the heck out of those plans.

- Consult things around the (non) store front.

- Thank Lastai muchly, along with Saint Cuthbert. Follow up on those altars and chapels ASAP.

- Where is Lionheart and TJ, anyways?

- Check in with the other Guardians. How are they doing?

- Say Hi to Earth Bet and the power advisory group.

- What are some things St. Cuthbert would want? Or Lastai?

0.7 - "Where Be Dragons?"

Wednesday, August 8th, 2012 (Earth Bet calendar) - Sigil

Everything in Sigil continued to develop without any exceptional problems.

The ethereal tunneler and gate zeppelin were picked up, and the stronghold room construction finished. They were all Subsumed whole, crunchy goodness every one. I dropped off the exorbitant pay for the room in a rather infernal looking circle, which disappeared along with the various coinage and favour papers. It ended up being yet one more thing blocked by Nessi's perceptions. The features of the completed room more than made up for the costs, however.

The digestion, consumption and integration of powers into my greater self was progressing at a slow to moderate pace. I was feeling vaguely confident in my Domain's personal defences, but doubted I've ever truly be secure - at least in my own mind - until I was able to handle multi-universal destruction grade attacks, or other such hyperbolic encounters.

It was in this somewhat stable and optimistic attitude that I had contacted Nessi about a new set of experiments.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

'...I'll find a way to come out with you.' Those thoughts were the echoes of a declaration I had made to Taylor.

Those were big words of mine. They could be 'fighting words' except that they... Weren't. ...Fighting, that is. My mad bout of optimism had extended into the one field that I had considered an absolute - that there would be some way to trick, bypass or otherwise circumvent the border.

Along those lines, Nessi and myself had gone through a rather stringent series of experiment controls. These included doing all our activities in a disposable time-line and in a new, separately contained sub-demiplane that only existed in said time-line.

The first experiment was to be done via a remote controlled 'meat puppet' - a biological facsimile of my current avatar done to scale, with a matching physiology and aesthetics. The differences were on the cellular level - completely different, basic human - and on the neurological - brain dead except for autonomic function, with a few Tinker-tech additions.

Going to test the connection, Mike-ster?

Rather then respond, I flicked the mental switch that controlled my own helm-gear-of-awesomeness. Looking like the love child between a bicycle helmet and a bundle of LED Christmas lights from last decade, it lit up with pulsating patterns as its power progressed.

Attempting a thumbs up, both of my selves copied the action.

Success!

Nessi applauded briefly from the sideline. She was currently in one of her prototype hi-tech magitech hybrid bodies, a brass-themed chassis with blue glowing component highlighting and detailing. A familiar rainbow themed bodysuit finished off the look.

Some more actions between my main and remote self familiarized myself with the differences. I finished the calibration process, then made a portal that terminated on the other side of the room. My remote control copy walked through with no problems, and I gave a little cheer at the act. It was echoed by Nessi.

Next was sending it through an active portal to an area outside my Domain. I picked a random, wasteland-like landscape from among the many planar destinations stored.

Looking around the featureless brown and well-lighted room, I took the steps necessary to position my remote controlled self in front of the opening. Turning back to my gynoid companion, I was torn between bowing and saluting, so I did both. Not at the same time, though - I'm not that crazy.

Facing the sharply outlined window in space once more, I inhaled deeply with both my selves.

To freedom!

Stepping through was the easy part. A simple foot - a calf, a thigh, and all the rest that followed - was a mere matter of manipulating bodily mechanics. I did so, almost bouncing with giddiness.

There were absolutely no sensations associated with passing through the border, either. It was as nothing before the bullshit levels of high technology!

I spun around in a circle, all but shouting at the top of my remote's lungs. It was like an extension of myself.

The portal I had used to enter this simple barren wasteland was still visible. It was... Wrong. WRONG. WrOnG. W r o n g. W r O n G...

I'm... Not supposed to to be... OuTsIdE. NoT... SuPPOSeD tO Beee OUTside.

Wrong...

...Wrong...

...Wrong.

...Wrong...

Wrong...

...Mike, Master of the Mystic Realm... Stays confined... Dark Power of my own Land... Keeps to the mists... Captain and Spelljammer... Never parts from his ship-self... Genius Loci of Sanctum... Is inseparable from the very land he is part of... Darklord of Myself as Domain... Never gets to leave... The Demon Prince of Sanctuaries... Is bound to his layer... The Head Director of Rubikon... Stays to oversee operations...

The soul stays with the body. The heat with the fire. The rain with the clouds. The jailer with his prisoners. The genie with his lamp. The ghost with its grave. The home-maker with his house. The guardian with his charges. The bird in his cage. The planet with its star. The food in the larder. The shepard with his flock. The puppet on its stage. The toy in its box. The hand in its glove.

Bound... Clasped... Restrained... Sealed... Locked... Fixed... Limited... Encircled... Bonded... Obligated... Impeded... Contained... Closed... Governed... Indentured... Reduced... Curbed... Controlled... Repressed... Manacled... Restricted... Jailed... Barred... Hampered... Incarcerated... Pledged... Moderated... Stopped... Tethered... Constrained... Chained... Tied... Obligated... Fettered... Confined... Secured... Prevented... Deprived... Blocked... Mandated... Ordered... Contracted... Forced... Enslaved... AGREED.

GET. BACK. TO. WHERE. YOU. BELONG.

By that point, the time for convulsing on the floor in agony was over. The remote controlled body, limbs splayed, seized and locked at full extension, whipped through the portal. Pieces tore off it that didn't quite fit, which rapidly followed the initial central mass.

My grandest of grand mal seizures did not end with a period of peaceable relaxation. Oh, no. Instead, it escalated - irregardless of whatever strength, powers or durability I may have thought I had, they were all rendered as to nothing by what I went through.

I never noticed when the former remote controlled body disintegrated into a wet, red slurry. I was too busy being in agony as every bone, sinew, muscle and scrap of flesh in my self was twisting, breaking, shattering and grinding into itself.

From Nessi's reports, I looked like a wet red-white towel being wrung dry. Needless to say, I died. My redundant physiology wasn't quite that redundant.

Finally in spirit form, I breathed a mental sigh of relief. It was short lived, however, as the entire sub-demiplane was rapidly shrinking. Rather than see the results of that action, I ended the disposable time-line.

I was only able to stare at Nessi in crushed resignation for a few instants before my head exploded. The inevitable death was followed by yet more violent disintegration of my formerly living avatar body in the main time-line.

I'm glad thats over, I thought.

Then my disembodied spirit was yanked into the mass of my Domain. Black oblivion followed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thursday, August 9th, 2012 (E.B.)

I came to waking consciousness being held by Ziz. Her many wings made the physical effort easy, to say nothing of the relative size difference between us. Her platinum white arms supported the full length of myself with no trouble.

We were in some random cul-de-sac off a central corridor. I didn't bother identifying the exact location, as the resonating words of 'GET BACK TO WHERE YOU BELONG' were still bouncing around in my mind.

Rather then add one more complication to my life, I created a full set of clothing for my bare self. Silk pajamas, given the informal situation. Some ruffling of angel-white wings fluttered over me in affection with the action.

"Hey, Guardian angel," I said, tilting my head up to look at her ever-serene expression.

"Greeting," she replied, her words still giving that pleasurable echo I've long gotten accustomed to.

"That wasn't a fun experience in the slightest, you know." She had no response to my words. "I have to assume that you saw it coming and it was required for something positive to come to pass - or at least the avoidance of something even more horrible."

Some small number of her wing tips ran over me, gently, at the conclusion of the last sentence. I'm assuming that was a positive agreement, then.

"One of the things I've always wondered is how far back and forward your powers went," I began, hands drifting over her blissfully soft wings. "That day in my private lounge, when you were in deep space with grey granite around you - did you foresee yourself with me? Here, now? Guardianship? Any of this?"

She only replied with humming, accompanied by a massage administered by both her hands. Her wings supported me in a way that made it almost seem as if I was floating.

"Do you ever want the ability to converse more... Conventionally?" I sighed out the words, slowly, as I relaxed in her grip. Her answer was a brief interruption of her actions to poke me on the nose.

"There was more to the experiments I had planned with Nessi in regards to 'going outside,' you know. I don't suppose you'd be willing to give me some sort of definite answers to them?" Some wing fluttering signaled the only sign of agreement I'd be likely to get.

"Alright," I sighed. "What were the other ones now... A full sensory hi-tech or magitech enclosed remote bot? An actively controlled drone system? A small, transparent area of claimed Domain space acting as a mobile transport system?"

Every single one of those questions were answered with a negatory nose-poke.

Dammit.

"Well... Ah..." I floundered for a while, mentally. Time to ask about what I thought were 'sure things.'

"Virtual reality? ...Dreams!?" The same nose-poking followed.

...No!?

Wow. I'm... Not even allowed out in my subconscious. That's really messed up.

"Portal walk-alongs are fine, though, right? As well as automatic, non-controlled basic drones viewed via a large screen?" Wing flutters answered those questions. "And the usual full insertion into a greater physical universe?" Same. "Wait a sec... Is there a minimum size limit to the mobile inserted base-of-operations, if I wanted to pilot it and didn't do the whole thing?!"

Her wing fluttering confirmed that line of thought. Fascinating. That would then provide me an inherent reason to not grow in size without serious consideration. Maybe even to shrink a little bit. For some reason, the thought of reducing my size gave me a strobing flash of anxious terror and nausea.

I followed it up with more clarifying questions in regards to size. It ended up not being a fixed amount, but more along the lines of a percentage of the whole. A small portion, hovering around about ten percent of my greater form.

I burst into a massive grin as an idea came to light.

"Darling angel Ziz, the thought I have now - is it viable?!"

This time, her response was to bury my lips within her own. We were still together like that when Nessi and the Taylors found us.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Stone and Cog trio along with Suplindh had come at my request. We were in a sparsely furnished side-room I had created newly off of the main Sigil street-side room.

It was dominated by a massive central wooden table, surrounded by a few plush leather chairs. Suplindh's seat was the exception, being a wrought metal chair to accommodate his stony gargoyle countenance.

"Thank you all for coming here. I trust everyone has been alright recently?" They responded with various tones of positive affirmation. It helped to get their take on things, even though Nessi's autonomous security drones were constantly monitoring them.

"I wanted to thank you all for the efforts you've put out so far in supporting myself and my endeavours," I said, giving a small, proud smile to all of them. "It has allowed me to push forward more dramatic ideas and concepts than what I had originally envisioned."

I cut off any replies to that statement of mine with the appearance of a small number of parchment sheets created onto the table. Rather than question me, each piece was inspected quietly.

Sken broke the silence first.

"This is very impressive, Rainbow." He was still shuffling through the parchments as he spoke. "Even with the fastest conventional options, you're looking at around a decade of work. Judging by these plans, it seems like the barracks and extended living quarters for a multi-generational armed force or something."

I grinned, pleased at his quick grasp of the material.

"Or something is right." I let the silence linger as they slowly stopped going through the plans to focus on me. With some brief movements, I had gathered the plans together in my hands.

"Gentle-beings," I began, holding the parchments in front of me, "these plans are merely the worker's quarters for the real project."

With that pronouncement, I once again pulled something out of my hammer-space. A large, bound book appeared, fully covering more than a third of entire table space.

"This," I said, tapping the tome with the now rolled up parchments, "is the real project. Behold, the -"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It took them a few hours to go over all the material. Utterances along the lines of 'its impossible!' and all its variances were common.

I waited, smiling mysteriously, until the major hubbub had settled down. Suplindh had emulated my example, only occasionally changing his stony glance among the members of the construction themed trio.

Tcha was the unofficial spokesperson this time.

"We all know you have enough to afford this, Rainbow," she glanced at her business partners, the bronze helmed formian and the half-elf, "but whether you have the time for it is another story."

Her black coloured eyes blinked at me in silence.

"Do you have some way of handling the logistics of the operation?" She asked me.

"Of course, Tcha." I again smiled at the trio. "First, I want to say both thank you and you're welcome - the construction and proper payment of the highly rushed project was completed just recently, with no troubles expected to head your way. As per our agreement, there is a certain amount of additional funds owed for you three." I made up a small piece of folded parchment, with the coinage amount specified on it, and slid it over the wooden table.

She picked it up with only slightly trembling fingers. Her hands shook enough times that she had to prop her forearms against the table and hold the parchment there to open it.

Finally succeeding, she froze. Eyes bulging, it fluttered to the table once more. Phyton tried his luck on it, but only managed a few insectoid choking sounds before his legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor. Sken finally got a hold of it, and his reaction was non-stop laughing.

It was in this mild chaos that I looked at Suplindh. He clicked his stony claws on the metal frame chair, but was otherwise silent.

He won.

"Suplindh, are you interested in drastically expanding your operations?" I asked the half-fiendish gargoyle. "I'm in need of a reliable senior partner to manage an up and coming multi-planar commercial empire."

His grey-green stony head focused on my own, followed by a nod.

"Rainbow Umbrella," he spoke, "I'll skip questioning your ability to deliver on such an intention, as the remaining millions of your gold and platinum pieces left with me have a weight that is much more than physical. However, this yet again seems to be another fantastic non-negotiation in my favour with a very small amount of speaking on my part." He paused, eyes narrowing in an almost blink. "Would it be appropriate to assume your response would be the same as before?"

My slight smile was trailed by a small nod.

His claws clicked on the metal of his chair as he stared off into the distance. As he glanced at the shell shocked construction trio, he frowned.

"I'm going to need some reliable people," he said. "Perhaps even a bigger place of business."

"I'd be happy to show you both, Suplindh," I said. "How about you tell me what you really want - think of them as boons, and myself as a boon granter. Win-win is my ultimate goal here."

As he started talking, my external smile was utterly dwarfed by the one inside me.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Nessi has kept me on edge for the last hour. I've been pacing back and forth in a specially prepared sub-demiplane with the intention of making a portal with her prompting.

After thirty-odd minutes of asking her 'now?,' she actually encouraged my pacing as a way to relieve the nervous stress of anticipation. This hallway-shaped room qualified as an inter-dimensional air-lock of sorts, with the middle interrupted with a paired set of portals. They would act as an additional scanner and security buffer.

I also had a few sets of weapons on mental 'quick dial,' ranging from anti-personal to anti-stellar. If I ran across something that required more destructive potential than what is required to destroy a solar system, I'd slow time and actually think.

I made the last step and turned around, starting towards the other end. About thirty paces or so, it was my 'generic brown with good lighting special.' Used for a number of events that I didn't want to be tied to anything resembling style, they sufficed nicely. I was also confident enough in Nessi - and my own inter-multiversal portal generation skills - that I didn't do the whole 'shut down all the portals and put them in the same room' process as before.

Of course, there was also the complication of the Lady of Pain and her portal that was placed in my Domain that could not be closed. Truthfully, that might not be the case. It might actually be extremely easy. The only issue would be if the Lady was irritated with the action.

Another set of steps passed me through the double set of portals, yet again. I resisted the urge to do the mental version of 'are we there yet?,' but then realized that specifically not thinking about it was the same as thinking about it as far as Nessi is concerned. Then there were a few paces worth of guilt trips followed by...

Mike-ster! I've got a definite HIT! We are go right NOW!, Nessi mentally spoke into our shared mindspace.

The instant I mentally heard my name I raced to the current end of the hallway, stopping about an arm's length away from it. Boring, brown walls.

I rubbed my hands together and did a few shoulder rolls. I passed on the shadow boxing and running in place, though. Besides the fact that it might punch back, there was more of a concern about it being missing. That happened when my velvet smooth, maple oak walnut letter purple tasting sample of the Plane of Shadow was fully integrated. It made all the shadows in my Domain extra dark as well, temporary freaking out some of the others.

Still, that effect went away when the Plane of Mirrors was digested - the darker shadows, I mean. I was still absent my shadow, and now my reflection. I suppose that 'there can be only one!' really applies to myself. Very handy that my own mirror plane doesn't do the whole 'evil twin that wants to kill you and take over your life' that was so common in the regular version. For the record, that was one piece of information I did check out rather extensively beforehand.

Image incoming!

Almost before it was fully formed, I had already created a blank portal the size of an overly large door. Moments later I had imprinted the supplied image into it as a destination. An unmeasurably small and uncertain time of waiting was followed by... Connection.

I immediately had it blocked off with a thick layer of stone and various metals. The portal was shrunk to the size of my fist and the portal-scanner external visual features changed to show 'nothing happening here.'

New multiverse confirmed, head-mate, Nessi thought at me. Thank goodness, there IS an internet here! I think it took me about three seconds to grab everything digital on this planet, and another second to finish off the rest of the solar system. A total of four seconds of near to a millionth of one-percent workload! I... Don't think I've ever worked so hard before. It made me feel all tingly...

Feeling good about this place then, Nessi?, I thought.

Absolutely! This Earth-variant looks like it changed in the early nineteen eighties... Other than a weird ancient history. No Scion here, though. Just... Wait for it!

I hopped up and down in anticipation, though I restrained myself from begging her.

Think cyberpunk meets fantasy and you'll have a good idea. There are dragons owning corporations and cybernetic limbs galore. In fact, why don't you tune into the event that drew us here - I'll give you a media feed, significantly edited into a more accurate summary. They have TONS of censorship here.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I Conjured up a decent sized flat-screen television onto the wall, followed by a large, plush chair. A few more efforts made a side table, bowl of popcorn and a remote. With a click, I turned the television on and started eating the salty, buttered popcorn pieces.

The sight that greeted me was a standard news presentation, with a date and time-stamp in the lower right hand corner that read 'August 9th, 2057 - 10:25 PM.' Scrolling text on the bottom of the screen read 'Newly sworn in Dragon President Dunkelzahn's limo destroyed in explosion!' It repeated endlessly.

Popcorn fell from my slack-jawed mouth and hands.

What.

"...Not my victory." There was an inset video panel of a black coloured dragon with a voice-over and subtitles below it, occasionally alternating with the words 'Presidential Acceptance Speech.' Burning wreckage and panicking people were in the background. "It belongs to everyone who voted for what I represent - hope, progress, a brighter future for us all. Many of you did not find it easy to accept a dragon as a fellow citizen, let alone as the leader of our nation..."

Nessi, oh dearest head-mate?, I thought.

Yes, oh wonderful Mike-ster head-mate?, she mentally responded.

This is going to be freaking glorious. I can tell.

I continued to watch the news report. Nessi passed on that the others were doing so as well, in the main lounge. Similar sounds of disbelief and shock were spread among them, though Ziz seemed to be content watching the mild chaos.

"...Irena Naylor, reporting from the capitol, where a major catastrophe has just occurred." The main picture had changed to show a slightly disheveled woman, of possibly Asian and European mixed heritage, with a press badge on the lapel of her coat and a microphone in hand. "The President appears to have been... God, I can't believe I'm saying this! ...Appears to have been assassinated as he was leaving the Watergate Hotel. We... We can't say for certain what's happened... There are no identifiable pieces of the Presidential limo anywhere - all the wreckage in the street is the twisted remains of the escort vehicles, and there is no sign of the dragon. The massive explosion occurred only moments ago, and even as we speak security personnel are surrounding the area. It's all happening so fast..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

What should we call this place, anyways? So far we have the multiverses of Earth Bet and the one around the city of Sigil.

Dunno. Cyber-Dragons? Ninja-pirate-robot-elf land? Throw me some hints here, head-mate!

Fine, fine. Megalomaniac corporations... Blood magic... Shamanism... Soylent everything... Nuyen world currency... Deniable criminal assets called Shadowrunners... Virtual realities...

I got it! How about... Bloody Soy?

...The others nixed it.

Nightly Nuyen?

Same.

Gah! Dammit... How about just one word, then? Like... Shadowrunners? Criminal name for a criminal planet and so on.

Close, but no cigar.

Oh well. Could you give me some more ideas then, please?

Sure, there are toxic mages and... Oh, Silla picked a good one. A variation on that one word - Shadowrun.

Hmm. Sounds snazzy, dark and a little bit sleazy. I like it!

Sure you do. I bet you just want to pass some game ideas back to Uber and Leet.

Eh... Maybe. So... We have officially decided it, then - this little hunk of cyber-magic rock and the related multiverse is going to be called...

...Shadowrun!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Append to Sanctum's Notepad:

- Go back and time and vote for Dunkelzahn. Because a dragon president is ten tons of awesome. Much less so when spread all over a road-side.

- Get DJ Darco Smooth all over this. He'll have a field day tripping up the corporate stiffs' censorship. That Irena Naylor as well - I could picture her 'disappearing' or simply 'silenced' if the corps are as bad as implied.

- What happens when a dragon dies, anyways? Probably a chaotic mess around a hoard or something.

- Lets establish a nice little beachhead here. After that, Taylor goes out... Boo! :-(

1.1 - "I Saw What You Did There"

Thursday, August 9th, 2057, 22:37 PM (Shadowrun calendar) - Washington FDC, UCAS

"No," a Taylor said, for the third time.

Nessi had understood the point and reasoning of our insect-themed Empress on the first attempt. I was substantially more block headed about the whole thing.

"But Tays," I began again, "this place is an epic suck hole of misery. Nessi and me can stream roll the whole thing! Curb stomp all these vain corps and bring them into a golden age!"

A finely sculpted arched eye-brow was her first response. It was followed by some negative head shaking, her long brunette hair following the movements.

I let out a sigh that sounded more like a ghoulish groan than anything else.

"Would 'whether they want it or not' be part of your intentions, Mike?" She asked me.

I grumbled some more as I looked around. All of the 'inner circle' were here, though that wasn't saying much these days. We were located in the North Lab, on top of the time accelerating disc. The idea for using the Rubikon was put down, as the infinite time effect it manifested cut off online connections to the world at large. Here, at least, Nessi was able to still use the portal-scanner to connect to this planetary digital network.

Everybody here, myself included, were positioned on plentiful cushions. Our purpose for this particular time-accelerated pow-wow was to determine the angle of attack - or perhaps just angle of approach - to 'deal with' this planet and everything related to it. I was on the 'curb stomp them for much goodness' team. Unfortunately, I was the only one left on said team.

I mumbled something about the 'greater good' and sulked.

The nearest Taylor shuffled her cushions next to me and flopped down.

"What's going on, Mike? You really seem to be... Digging in your heels here." She spoke after her head was placed on my chest, looking up at me. I showed her a thin lipped smile.

"Tays - I'm assuming that in my recent head exploding time there was yet more 'unreadable' pages?" She answered with a nod of her head. "Long story short... I'm stuck here. I'm super stuck in here. I'm more stuck in here than a fly in a million year old piece of amber..."

I let out a more normal sigh and stroked her head. Her eyes closed briefly at the gesture before returning their focus to my own.

"A part of me really wants to smash the status quo," I began, speaking softly. "Get a press conference, announce myself as some sort of Greater-than-Great Dragon and shake the very foundations of the... Corporate heavens." I closed my eyes and went through some deep breaths. "Not to mention there was the whole intention of helping you go out and about - that terrifies me like little else. Sure, I can be an awesome headquarters. But..." I let out a chuckle. "I don't even really know what that is and I already want to do more."

The Taylor patted me on the arm, focusing off into the distance.

"Win win, right?" She asked me, and it was my turn to give a nod. "I'm guessing that you'd prefer to fight and challenge the world from the top level - the AAA megacorporations?" Same response on my part. "The idea is that you'd best fight them at their level and so on is admirable, but... Misguided."

I sighed, but made no other signs of objection. She took that as a signal to continue.

"What an AAA megacorp is is essentially a driving international force that has divisions around the world, political might, economic clout and military strength. It also has the privilege known as 'extraterritoriality,' whereby any land owned by the corp is not subject to the greater country around it. The employees would be considered corporate citizens, perhaps with dual citizenship to their nation as well."

She smiled widely and ruffled my hair.

"The best part of all that is that you are so far beyond them that becoming an AAA megacorp would be a step down, Mike. Every single one of those categories you already have beat - either personally, or via your own forces."

She grabbed my free hand with her own.

"International? How about inter-multiversal. Political? Say the world, and Nessi will have your face and name on every page of everything in seconds. Economics? Crash the world market or make it do whatever you want - you don't even need money for anything anymore. Military?" By this time, my smile had turned into a light chuckle and she had joined me.

"In order to make things fair, we'd have to send Jess to fight them... Anything else would be overkill."

As I laughed, it was like the tension I wasn't even aware of was fading from me.

"You don't even need to know their names."

I brought her head up to mine and kissed her forehead.

"Thanks, Tay," I said, slowly resettling her position back onto my chest. "I needed that. So..." I locked eyes with her again. "What exactly are you proposing, then?"

"Do the game this world is playing - shadowrunning - but do it better than them. Incredibly better. Show the world that change can be done 'in the shadows,' so to say." Her grin turned impish before she spoke further. "Then... Splash it all over the front page news, or have DJ Darco host a news special."

I made some appreciative sounds of agreement.

"Win win?" She held up her fist and I tapped it with my own.

"Absolutely."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thursday, August 9th, 2057, 23:48 PM (SR)

Nessi had spent the last few days teaching the rest of us the ins and outs of this world. The bronzed time boosting disc had turned into a miniature camping site, albeit with an advanced outhouse and other amenities. The topics covered included slang - which my translating functions mostly ignored, so I didn't bother with them - countries, corporations, history, laws, cultural mores, technological developments and more.

There was other positive developments during this time. Silla had found a prospective niche for her self - that of the public face of Sanctum, myself, and whatever new group we formed. Jessica would still act as my executive assistant, though now it seemed like she would be needed, instead of just being a convenience.

The one active portal I had kept active to this world was located in Washington, FDC, near the Watergate Hotel. It is the capital city and administrative district of the United Canadian and American States, shortened to the UCAS. It was a relatively affluent area, though still with the usual economic disparity.

The recap of the recent past was winding down to the last external hour of history.

"Then we come to the events that drew us here," Nessi continued, pointing to a muted holographic display. It contained a rerun of the news footage of the former president's car bombing. "It was not so much this particular death, as sad as it was -" a few of us booed the mention, as Dunkelzahn had grown on us all over this intense study period "- but what happened afterward."

Another gesture towards the screen adjusted the view. This time, instead of merely showing the flaming debris of a former limo, it highlighted a strange mass of scintillating light that had been hanging some distance over the site.

"This," Nessi pointed to it with a built-in fingertip laser, "is some sort of astral rift to the local multiverse's different realms. As Ziz has confirmed Mike's question, it is safe to 'nom nom' on."

I cheered quietly, arms up in the air, while a few of the others graced me with silent applause.

"It acted as a signal I was able to tune into, and passed on the relevant info to Mike for us to get here." The laser pointer disappeared, and she crossed her arms behind her back. "The most interesting thing about Dunkelzahn's death is that he has ignored traditional local draconic tradition by the use of a will. It is rather extensive and appears to have major reaching effects throughout the world and future, as well as a number of great opportunities."

Could you conjure the portfolios please?, Nessi mentally asked me.

With a two finger forehead salute, I made a batch of them. I didn't need to pass them out as Ziz did that for me, deftly applying her telekinesis. I gave her a smile and wave of thanks, which she acknowledged by brushing me with a wing tip.

Opening the portfolio, it had a variety of different headings. The notice on the front page mentioned that the back of the folder had the full text of the will, while the front had viable opportunities for us.

Nessi spoke from memory, not needing a hard copy in front of herself.

"The best thing about this will is that it is publicly unknown at this point. Even Nadja Daviar, the big D's personal translator and closest confident, is not expected to reveal it for a few days. She is personally getting the bulk of his estate's assets and finances, combined with a number of other benefits and responsibilities, including heading a foundation whose purpose is to oversee the execution of the will."

She waited while we skimmed the front pages, which had greater detail on Nadja.

"These have all been vetted by Ziz as things we can do without greater problems down the road." Nessi cleared her throat, drawing our attention her way again. "The major considerations in regards to this will are that one, we don't need money and two, any physical object, magical or otherwise, can be duplicated by Mike here."

I frowned in contemplation. Something from our history lessons came to mind - spirits? Spirit fueled items?

She looked at me and nodded.

"The duplication comes with the caveat of not including souls or spirit forms, of course. Anything other than that should be fair game. Along those lines, there are well over fifty items of consideration. I won't mention anything that is a simple physical item or cash reward, apart from the following few entries."

"The more noteworthy items include the first folio edition of Al Azif, sometimes known as the Necronomicon; the Jewel of Memory, an artifact reputed to hold memories, wisdom and knowledge of dragons from current and previous eras; the Hope diamond, which might be worth a look or two..."

I nodded along with the mentions. I could easily make a diamond boulder, but seeing an item with such a history would be interesting. My raised hand interrupted her recital, and she gestured to me to speak.

"I'm personally interested in the Tapestry of Fate - it looks rather colourful. If there is no objections, I'd... Ah..." I coughed, looking around guiltilty. "I'd make a perfect copy of it and keep the original. Everybody here is welcome to do the same with the other items, pending realistic limits and the advice of Ziz, of course." A glance at the white winged angel only showed me a few fluttered wings, so I assumed that my plans were alright.

There was a brief furor among the others as they discussed possible acquisitions. I passed out some coloured markers, and Nessi and myself waited till it died down.

"There are a few 'feel good' jobs that would easily bring us over fifty million nuyen, which we'll do for free or simple official recognition of the will executors. However, the funds generated by the other types of jobs should more than make up for it."

We looked through our portfolios to the relevant section.

"Two big ones are for actual real estate. One involves spending a night in a likely haunted site on a full moon - Glamis Castle, by the village of Glamis, in Angus, in the country of Tir na nOg, previously called Scotland. The other being some form of communication between local metahumanity and dolphins, elephants and/or satyrs."

Jessica and Silla were excitedly talking about the reward for that one.

"The prize for that particular task would be forty million nuyen and our choice of any of the Cayman Islands," Nessi said. "I don't think we'll have any problems with that, seeing as to how it was already completed on Earth Bet. The other massed simple jobs are bounties for blood mages and toxic shamans, each worth one million when captured and delivered alive. Depending on how many we can find and 'acquire,' we'd help improve the world and our pocket-books at the same time."

She clapped her hands together and rubbed them excitedly.

"Now we get to the truly interesting jobs that remain - worldwide detoxification of polluted areas, recovering the Russian crown jewels, finding and returning Excalibur, and tracking down the three hidden lairs of the late dragon. The last one would be easiest with a massed deployment of some stealthed magitech drones, possibly even done in the next few days. If we were able to bring the 'plain brown scroll case' to the Draco Foundation, it would easily establish our bona fide status in regards to the feasibility of completing the other tasks."

"Any questions?"

I was personally content with what was brought up, and tuned out the inquires of the others. We still had more normal, day-to-day logistics to cover.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thursday, August 9th, 2057, 23:51 PM (SR)

Things were wrapping up on the time disc. Silla was admiring her 'street gear,' which consisted of an armoured black suit and large wrap-around sunglasses, while Nessi was talking with the Taylors and Ziz. Jessica was beside me, going over our more immediate next steps.

One of her perfectly done nails tapped at her computer tablet, drawing my attention to her again.

"Sanctum?" I gave her a thumbs up to continue, and she huffed in minor annoyance. She was already back into full-on executive assistant mode, and I was grateful to see it again. A great thing about my Domain self relaxing into itself was that my repressed and stressed denial to the attraction of Jess was tuned down, slightly. In this case, it meant that she was able to drop her decorative glasses, though the ultra-conservative suit was still present.

"There are currently two major approaches to our coming operations," She said. "The first is the rapid seizure or copying of as many of the big D's items as appropriate, with the intention to show up as a major underground player on the day of the public will reading. Among other things, this would involve massed drone deployment in the Caucasus Mountains, Prince Edward Island and Lake Louise, all sites known to be lairs of his."

As local internet sources had confirmed the presence of magical defences on this world, the drones design had been based on magitech concepts. They should be able to go through all technological and arcane protections here without any problems. For my own acquisitions, I was already looking forward to hanging the Tapestry of Fate in my suite. It would go nicely beside the Rainbow Tapestry, a more conventional magic item that came with the completed stronghold room.

Those will be in a disposable time-line, of course. Since we only need to copy them, it is not an issue, Nessi mentally sent to me. We can send out targeted drones for the exact wanted items after everything has been mapped, as well as not worrying about their discovery.

Brilliant as always, head-mate, I replied in kind.

"I already have the required contacts to follow through with, as far as the to-be-formed Draco Foundation is concerned." She gave me a smirk. "I even know the board members that haven't even been named yet."

I graced Jess with some silent applause, which she responded to with a regal head nod.

"All items from the will are going to be tracked, regardless of copy status. Depending on how soon we can get finances from the Foundation, we may or may not need to start siphoning money from worldwide accounts." Jessica fixed me with a stare, prompting a response.

"I'll prompt Nessi to do a quiet seizure of as many 'dead traffic' accounts as possible, for now," I said, casting my eyes towards Nessi. She was still talking with the Taylors, though Silla had joined in. A quick mental inquiry towards her was followed by an affirmative response. "And... Done. That should at least net us a few dozen million, potentially more."

My preemptive actions with Nessi were met by a glare by Jessica. Oops. That was supposed to be her job, now. I put on a sad smile and shrugged by way of apology.

"The protection racket for the corps is offline for now, then?" I nodded in confirmation. "A very large number of small scale properties are going to be rented, leased, bought or simply squatted in internationally, which will act as buffer rooms to get into your Domain. You'll need to have a design ready for conjuring into them, as well as a central operations hub where everything comes together. That won't be a problem, Sanctum...?"

Another nod followed. I had some ideas about them, though most would just be a grander version of cut-and-paste. Depending on how fast they could be bought, every one could be completed before the will reading as well.

"In regards to our official shadowrunning 'dream team,' I'm assuming we'd be scouring the whole planet?" She continued after seeing my nod. "How about... Notable deceased shadowrunners? Our reach would be extended rather well, but... Their past history would eventually come out."

I gave her a raised eyebrow.

"Remember Taylor's mother, Jess? She never died... She was kidnapped by strange capes." I smiled, softening the impact of my words. "On this world, the people we want never died, a clone did - while they were put into stasis for their own protection." I frowned for a breath. "If needed, we can reveal that particular ace in the hole later. Sounds good?"

She flashed me a smile of confirmation.

"All team candidates should be found and vetted by the end of the week. Now, as far as Silla being the public face of this 'Umbrella Import Group' goes..." Her words died off as she all but buried her face into her computer tablet.

I directed a gust of wind to scatter her hair. She looked up at me in annoyance, with some restrained sniffles evident.

"Jess?" I addressed her in mock disapproval. "She'll be equipped like a tank. Silla will be kitted out heavy enough that she could have a restful sleep while being used as a baseball bat by a Great Dragon, okay?"

Her face morphed through outrage, amusement and more, before finally settling down into a more relaxed expression. A whispered 'thank you' came soon after.

"Have a reliable bodyguard included as well, alright? Some... Buff gay guy, so that neither of you have any reason to worry. First recruit if possible."

She laughed at the imagery, more completely relaxed by this point. Jess resettled her cushions and straightened out.

"A few last items to go over... Informational security on Domain issues?"

"Some degrees higher than memory blocks," I replied. "Essentially, yours - and whomever else's - specific memories of secrets and so on will only even exist in here. They are 'held back' when you exit, and seamlessly returned on entrance. It was already cleared with Taylor and confirmed with Nessi."

She made some contemplative sounds but was otherwise quiet.

"There was also the plans for Marquis and the Number Man - the subtle takeover of the world's organized criminal underground. Is that still a go, or...?"

"Yes," I responded. "Though... Have yourself and Silla discuss it with them instead of myself. I'll pull them out of the City of Tomorrow once we get out of here." I indicated the area of the time disc with a circular motion of my head.

"Sure. Now, as far as the Dragon's death goes...?" Jessica asked me.

"Not happening," I said, with my head shook in emphasis. "While it might be a nice feel good gesture to find out what happened, Ziz has nixed it. Fate of the world, and so on. Same thing with resurrecting him, though I wouldn't mind having a few biological samples of his."

She made some notes on her tablet with a finger tip.

"The mysterious Mars photos...?"

"Ahh..." I paused for some time, mildly deep in thought. "Put them off for now. That planet isn't going anywhere, and we have plenty to do here."

"Got it, Sanctum." She scanned her tablet once more. "The world-wide inventorying of blood mages and toxic shamans will continue, and we can likely start rounding them up any time soon. Same thing for processing polluted places around the planet. Scanning absolutely everything available on the free and restricted market is a given, of course. The three hundred in the City of Tomorrow are starting specific training and orientation for this world, and... That is it."

"Thanks, Jess. Great to have you back in action - I'm sure we'll do amazingly here."

My executive assistant flashed me a smile as she leveraged herself up from the floor-bound cushions.

"Of course we will, Sanctum. After all, you've got me helping you."

We both laughed as she walked back to the other group, likely to pass on the latest news to her partner.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Friday, August 10th, 2057 (SR)

This thing was astounding. I didn't even need to use some form of magical vision to perceive it, either - the 'manastorm' was easily visible to the naked eye. It appeared as a mass of scintillating light in all the colours of the rainbow, hanging in the air. Constantly swirling in it's multi-hued glory, it was roughly oval-shaped and about eight metres across at the widest point. Very bright, too - it clearly lit up the blast area at night.

I want it for my bedroom ceiling light, I thought. I laughed at the mental image, already imagining guests to my suite asking what it is, while I replied with 'let me get back to you with that,' watching them back away the whole time.

A look down through the portal revealed that the glowing mass was about twenty meters off of the ground. The area below has been cleaned up, with a large cordon around it that blocked off street traffic. Nessi had informed me that UCAS magical specialists 'suspected' it was some kind of astral or magical manifestation. I snorted at the thought.

No kidding.

There is only one phrase suitable to such a momentous occasion: it's time to taste the rainbow.

Ignoring the generic safe brown room I stood in, I directed the end-point of my portal to close in with the manastorm. When it was just a finger-width distance from the exterior of the glowing oval, I stopped.

"Hi there, mysterious glowing thing!" I addressed it with mock cheer, hands on my hips. "I was told by a being of great foresight, size and beauty that you'd be safe to nibble on, so... I'm going to do so. No hard feelings. It's not supposed to hurt, either."

With a thought and a moment of intention, I started funneling the dimensional qualities of the energy system into my greater self. There was no flash-back like experience to what happened to me at the Demiplane of Dread. I didn't know whether to truly say whether I'm disappointed or not by that absence.

It was a very complex flavour, reminding me of faint yolks of oil-coated cotton candy made from ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics surrounded by a nimbus of ultraviolet ultraviolence. The strangest thing with the experience was a sensation of weight behind the Subsuming action - the most comparable thing would be a fishing line being pulled taut.

Hmm. I wonder what the mystery presents will be?, I thought.

Waiting for any warnings from Nessi or Ziz, I shrugged and focused on the manastorm again. The drawing of its multicoloured energies towards myself was still ongoing. To add to the security of the my prospective 'fishing attempt,' I made additional transparent portals all around it.

That done, I started pulling. Nothing came for the first few minutes. Things then came in bursts of activity - the first batch was a number of nature spirits. They passed through the portals without noticing anything and were immediately pulled into my Afterlife Library. Safe enough storage method for them, all things considered.

Next up were some elemental spirits, which had the same thing happen to them. A number of more generic ancestor spirits... More nature and elementals... Some various insect spirits... Neat! I'll have to tell Taylor about those... Or just answer her questions after she goes through reading my life-book about them.

Other kinds of spirits had come through while I was wool-gathering. Some sort of translucent, large jellyfishes... Blobs of impenetrable darkness... Black coloured clouds or... Grim reaper type creatures? Likely a nasty critter, I'm sure.

Things seem stuck now, though. I stared at the glowing oval in frustration. I likely had only a few more minutes before I was 'full' and wouldn't be able to take on any more, unless I drastically increased my Domain size or something. My only real option for pulling would be to change from nibbles to bites and go for the whole thing at once.

I paused, considering.

Nessi dearest?, I mentally inquired of my head-mate. Any warnings coming from Ziz? Bad vibes? Anything?

Not at all, Mike-ster. You are go for nomming at the astral buffet table!, she replied in kind.

That makes things easier. I slowed my perception of reality significantly, right up to the point of being uncomfortable. Completed, I created another set of portals further out around the manastorm, acting as an additional safety buffer.

I then pushed the main portal I was using for the Subsuming process right into the very middle of the rainbow-like energy vortex. With a mental gulp, I energetically seized it as firmly as possible and yanked it in my direction.

Things suddenly shifted, then...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Time unknown, location unknown.

Brown walls of my default room were all around me. There were no portals, neither was there a connection to my Domain. I somehow knew that I was still there, but at the same time... Not.

It was about that instant that I thought that I might have been too hasty with the whole 'no flashbacks to the Demiplane of Dread' mention from earlier. A laugh from behind me caused me to turn around.

There, sitting on a throne made of cushions, was... The Dweller on the Threshold. No introduction was given or name mentioned - I simply knew it, as if I had always known it.

What is one plus one?, it asked me.

Um. What? Is this for real?, I thought.

"Two," I replied.

Correct. You win. Challenge passed. The metaplanes are now open to you, unbarred and free. Wasn't that easy?

I frowned, face tightening in it's direction.

"Yes," I said. "It was really easy. Too easy. I thought that... Threshold Guardians are supposed to be more... More everything."

Indeed. There is no point in giving you a real challenge, though. You'd just plow your way through it. No point... In ever giving you a challenge.

"Then challenges have to be self-imposed," I said. "Much like my current life in the Domain. Apart from actually crippling myself, I'm all but falling over trying to get others to take on aspects of my powers. I value my own weaknesses, ignorance and shortfalls. They are blissful truths of my less than perfect self - a reminder that I'm not done yet. Just like how perfect knowledge would lead to never seeking anything more, so too would any other absolutes. Perfection is isolated, complete and total in itself. I don't ever want to be that."

The Dweller appeared as a hole in reality. It could be best described as a humanoid outline, using that hi-tech blacker-than-black material to have absolutely no reflection. It stayed silent. I looked around the room. Brown walls, cushions, myself and the Dweller were the only features here.

"Is there anything you want, Dweller on the Threshold?," I asked it. "Something I could do for you?"

Yes. Never ask that question or variations of it to anybody.

I winced at the implications inherent in it's request.

"That would make everything far..." Too easy, I mentally continued.

The impression of a nod was directed my way.

Tuning into my self again, it appeared that all my powers were merely blocked. Far from being behind vault-like barriers, every single one was just covered with a single seal of sorts. It would just take a few seconds of conscious, undivided attention to pop them open. It would be... Very easy.

I refused the temptation of doing so. Mind made up, I walked to stand in front of the Dweller and it's cushion-based throne.

"Dweller on the Threshold!" I addressed it, speaking in as clipped and formal manner as possible. "I... Challenge you! To... A duel!"

It didn't demonstrate any signs of surprise or refusal.

What are the terms?, it asked me.

I yanked a cushion from the throne, balling the edge of it in a clenched fist. I raised it in front of it's non-face.

"Pillow fight. No powers. Continues until one of us gives up."

It stood up, void like blackness taller than myself.

Accepted.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I lost. What was I thinking, anyways? That my plucky determination and 'can do' attitude would somehow outlast that of an genuine extradimensional eldridtch abomination? Puh-leeze! As if!

At least I had already completed the 'challenge' from before, so was able to 'navigate the metaplanes,' whatever they are - wherever they are.

A mental blink revealed that I was in the room from before. Various portals were all around, and the Subsuming process had finished. There was also the giant, ethereal jaws of an astral dragon nearly closed around me. They appeared about as large as a double-sized bed mattress, with colourful transparent fangs somewhere in the size range of my forearm to full arm in length.

I mentally smiled.

Big fish in that lake, yes sir.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Append to Sanctum's Notepad:

- Chat with Taylor about insect spirits.

- Check out the metaplanes. Take pictures!

- Decide which of the Cayman Islands we want. All of them? The big one? Decisions, decisons.

- Plan a night at the haunted castle. Maybe we can throw a Halloween party there!

- Do something about that astral dragon, I guess.

- See if the Dweller was yet one more 'blocked from memory' being with Nessi and Taylor.

- Get ready to plop down a bunch of waiting rooms around the world.

- I bet that the 300 are really eager to finally see some action.

1.2 - "Culture Shock Therapy"

Friday, August 10th, 2057 (Shadowrun calendar) - Washington FDC, UCAS

So, mysterious circumstances, we meet again.

I would be able to stand and turn on the spot, arms at my side, without coming into contact with the large fangs. If, of course, I resumed the normal flow of time, sped myself up, or froze this ethereal dragon in front of me.

A quick peek showed me that it's head and some of the neck was through the portal. If I simply teleported out of the way, it would bite onto nothing. Following that, the dragon would likely be pulled back through the manastorm or fully enter here and be absorbed by my Afterlife Library.

A closer examination of the astral form revealed that there were chunks missing - it was already starting to fall apart. Like ashes drifting up from the embers of a fire, so too did it leave no traces behind.

No good options for this critter, I thought. Anything come to mind, Nessi?

What rhymes with Cuardians?, she mentally asked me in reply.

Ah? No way! A dragon? So... Blah and boring. The multiverse of Sigil has tons of them! And their attitudes... Hoarding...

A mental glare of disapproval was sent my way.

Remember Ziz's encouragement? Are you going to throw away our first real 'catch' of this place because of racial prejudice?

Ouch. That was painfully true. My self-admission changed the emotions that emanated from Nessi to that of 'grudging approval.'

Still... There was a bit of a situation here. Unless I wanted to grab onto and damage the astral form of the dragon, the only thing that would work as an anchor would be... Me... After getting bitten by it.

Fantastic.

No time like the present. Pain suppressors, ghost strike-like glue effects, some sort of integrity field so that I don't rip out the dragon's teeth...

What followed was a series of screams, crashes and strange energetic flows. By the end of it, I had another Guardian - an ethereal dragon of sorts.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Things weren't as simple as that, of course. The actual forging of the connection - the fusing of my own energies to her own - was a laborious process. Completed only in yet another instance of accelerated time, it granted me the opportunity to be taught a few basics on dragon etiquette.

I didn't want to go through a comedic episode of culture clashing, where we each failed to understand one another. I had instead opted in start things off on the right foot. That was the exact reason for the new, still groggy ethereal dragon and myself to be relocated into my grand treasure hall - the one designed to impress galactic emperors. Still a rough ten kilometers in diameter, I had boosted the size of the walls as well, topping them - and the ceiling - out to about two kilometers high.

The ground was still the massive bed of coins and jewels as always, while the walls remained an impressive mosaic of precious metals and fine filigrees. The diamonds and precious stones of the central chandler was much distant, but still visible.

I was in a form much different from my usual humanoid self.

The nearly transparent form of the astral dragon finally roused itself from it's slumbers, shaking off whatever fugue state it had previously. Curious, she looked around, eyes widening at the sight of the ever-present treasure. She even lifted a front paw, to ensure that it was also underneath her.

I seemed to be ignored for the moment. I corrected that with a cough-like exhalation of breath.

She slowly shifted her long neck back to the front, facing me. Then, she looked up... And up... And up.

I might have forgot to mention that my base form was that of a dragon, combined with the gigantic feature. I needed to expand the treasury here in order to not feel cramped. To put things in perspective, her head was about the size of a full-featured car. She would be able to fit in my open, clawed paws without difficulty.

I blinked, staring at her. It was at that exact moment that I regretted dragon-kind's lack of eyebrows. If I had had such, one of them would have surely been raised in curiosity.

We were both frozen at that point. She remained fixated on the eye closest to her. I broke the stalemate by lowering my own giant neck and head to within a few spans of her own.

"Greetings, noble dragon," I rumbled. Unlike the dragons of this current era, she still seemed to retain the ability of speech. It appears to have been lost in the last downward cycle of magic, such demonstrated by the use of 'translators.' "Who would you be, and what brings you into my home? I had to undergo a most minor degree of difficulty to spare your astral form from complete dissolution."

She went through some movements of wings, head, tail and more that Nessi assured me were of 'utmost submission to a great superior.' I took her word on it, as my brief introduction to the draconic culture of this world was substantially inferior to that even of new hatchlings. She followed my use of spoken language, instead of dragonspeech. That form of communication was a full featured, short range telepathic ability that allowed the communication of many concepts and raw amounts of data in a very short time. I didn't have it present among my own active power selections.

"Greetings, noble dragon," she replied in like manner, head still bowed in some form of deference. "I go by Aban, as well as Mistweaver, Sunset Scales, Ravager of Horrors, Ruins Keeper, and the... Running Prey in the Deep. My last title explains how I came to be in the deep astral metaplanes, as well as... Your home, noble dragon. Who are you, of such size? Have I finally died and met Nightslayer?"

My own prismatic scaled head was shook in the negative in response. It was likely a gross act by the subtle controlled body mannerisms of dragons.

"I only know of Nightslayer through your own life history, Aban." I pulled back my head to a more peaceable distance. "All but my earliest Names have been gained rather recently. Starting with Mike, it would then include Master of the Mystic Realm of Sanctum, Dark Power of my Mists, Darklord of Sanctum, Captain as Spelljammer, Paragon Genius Loci, Demon Prince of Sanctuaries and Head Directer of Rainbow Rubikon."

We stared at each other in silence, neither making any overt gestures.

"So, Aban," I began. "A lot has happened since the fourth age, where and when you lived. While the Rites of Visitation and Honoured Greeting may have not been fully performed, they are fine for my own levels of informality. Can you change into your smaller Name-giver form?"

With that request, her large dragon form dropped down into that of a ghostly woman. Mist swirled near her feet for a brief instant before dispersing.

I changed into my standard humanoid form, rainbow hair and eyes included.

"Let's go meet the others," I said, as I gave the treasure hall a last look. Aban nodded and I snapped my fingers.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Aban was silent during the introductions. Nessi passed on to me that dragons in their astral forms typically had some way to rebuild their physical bodies, but Aban seemed to be blocked from doing so. It was likely due to the Guardian archetype she picked up, that of an ethereal or ghostly being.

"Greetings to you all, noble dragons," Aban said, breaking her own period of silence. She was about to continue, likely with her own long list of Names, when one of the four Taylors cut her off.

"Oh, no, Aban," she began. "I'm sorry if we gave that impression - none of us are actually dragons. We're all a lot stranger than that." The Taylor gave the ghostly woman a small smile, attempting to lessen the impact of her words.

Aban glanced at me, briefly, as if to ask the obvious question in silence.

"No, not him either," the Taylor replied. "As far as I know, it was the first time he took on that form. Right, Mike?"

I made some sounds of agreement, but my main focus was on Aban. Given the recent upsets to her world view and perception of myself, it looked like she was ready to explode in rage. A common occurrence in her ancient past, if Nessi's recounting was correct.

Visibly pointing to the ghostly woman, I spoke again.

"I picked that form to stop this exact sort of reaction from you," I said. "I am easily capable of overpowering great dragons, but I wanted to offer you some level of familiarity before other shocks were added on."

Her mostly transparent face went through a number of dimmed emotions, finally settling on a combination of sickened nausea, rage and grief.

"What are you then, to make such ludicrous claims as to be above the most perfected beings in existence?" She asked me, rage winning out with the content of her words, if not the tone itself.

This isn't going as well as I expected. Not that I expected much, but... Dragons gotta do what dragons gotta do, right?

I sighed, then sunk my feet into the carpeted ground in front of my plush seat.

"I am the ground," the carpeted floor said. "I am the walls and ceilings," those surfaces said. "I am the very world that pulled you into myself and bond you to me in order to save your very self from disintegrating into nothingness," I echoed, as I stood up. "I am the being that overcame my prejudices of the arrogance and attitude of dragon-kind to attempt to see if you would be an exception to that rule. Are you or are you not, Aban?"

Her ghostly form shot up from the couch. The Taylors backed off to either side, while Ziz, Jessica and Silla already had a degree of distance from her.

"Do not call me that Name, pretender!" She launched herself at me in rage, that emotion finally overcoming the others. At the moment of contact, her form dissolved into mist and entered me via my nostrils and open mouth.

Everybody was silent in reaction to what just happened.

I could sense Aban inside me, somehow. A formless entity that swirled and swam within my core, seething with rage, grief and shock.

"So," I began, "it appears that Aban has sort of... Entered inside me, spiritually. She isn't able to actually influence me - she is too weak for that, or maybe the Guardian bond prevents hostile or unwanted actions - but... I can feel her essence moving around."

I reseated myself and buried my head in my hands. Ziz moved to behind me and started a massage on my upper back.

A Taylor started to ask me a question when I mentally heard a scream coming from inside me. I winced, curling further into the seat.

I couldn't hear anything other than this endless scream. I guess she found out that you don't need to inhale as an ethereal being.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I stayed in that position for some unknown length of time. I was dimly aware of movement around me, voices, sounds and so on. There was the sensation of various reassuring hand pats, arm squeezes and the like. The last presence - the one that remained - was Nessi.

I knew that by her attempts to mentally communicate with me. She had already passed the point of doing such in the mental equivalent of shouts and had to use screams to be heard.

MIKE-STER! WE'VE THOUGHT UP AN IDEA THAT MIGHT WORK!, she screamed inside my head.

I numbly nodded in acknowledgement, too overcome to do anything more.

USE SOME DREAM-BASED POWERS TO MAKE A LARGE ROOM INSIDE YOURSELF WITH A BIG OPEN DOOR, THEN CLOSE IT BEHIND HER!, Nessi continued.

That sounds pretty far-fetched, but I'll give it a try. Working easier than expected, I created a bland, brown room the size of a large barn house, open doors included. Nothing happened.

YOU HAVE TO MAKE IT TEMPTING!

Ah, alright then. Some redecoration filled it with luxurious furnishings, carpeting, lighting and more. I went with a pastel theme. No chalkboards or speaker systems included, I had enough of a headache-like experience with this screaming.

After a period of waiting... Nothing happened. Dammit.

TEMPTING FOR A DRAGON! NOT JUST A HUMAN!, Nessi screamed.

Oh, right.

I scaled up the size of the room, adding in a massive pile of coins, precious gems and other valuables in one corner. The walls and ceiling were turned to semi-polished stone, with the ceiling curving up into a minor dome. The floor was changed to warm sand, with the exception of a very large strip of stone edging the boundary point between the walls and ground. That stone ledge would function as a normal floor surface and feature the human-scaled furniture and options.

Completed, I waited yet again.

Just as I was about to write off the whole experiment, Aban's ethereal form slammed into the large room with a howl of rage. The door was quickly locked up behind her, then I added a few buffer layers of rooms outside it. The fifth layer dimmed the noise, while the eighth completely eliminated it. The next two were just to round out the numbers.

That could have gone better, I thought.

After I straightened up, I found that some of the original group had left. The only ones present were the four Taylors and Jess. I gave them a weak wave in greeting.

"Who should I thank about the 'dream house' idea?" I asked them, as I panned my head around the room.

Jessica raised a hand.

"Silla and me came up with the idea, though the others helped refine it, Sanctum," she said.

"Thanks," I said. "Consider yourself more welcome to the pile of endless everythings I already grant you both, okay?"

She hid a laugh with a series of coughs, but finally ended it with a 'you're welcome.'

The Taylors then came over to my seat and flopped themselves around me. After a multi-person hug, the one closest to the front of my face spoke up.

"Thank you for not mentally overpowering her, or doing anything else like that, Mike," she said. They then resumed the hug and I did my best to return it, as awkward as my position was. After some brief minutes of silence, they all got up and left, giving me a brief good-bye kiss on my head before doing so.

Jess and myself watched them leave before she turned her focus back to me.

"There is some business to take care of, Sigil-side, Sanctum," she said, computer pad already in hand. "Before we get over there, though, can you tell me about how you made the dream room? I might have some suggestions."

We spent the next little while doing just that.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Same day, Sigil.

Greyface had met up with Jess and me in a side-room, off of the Sigil-opening central area. His group, now containing a redeemed succubus and a pet Lim-Lim, were holed up there, separated from ourselves. A large mass of magical equipment and all sorts of other knickknacks were dumped onto a side-wall table in our room, with the more interesting or valuable pieces placed carefully off to the corner of it.

We had spent the last little while going over the activities of his past few days in general detail, and were now getting to what he called 'the good stuff.'

He picked a few items from the larger table and carefully placed them onto the smaller one between us.

"These," he said, "are things with some serious history or meaning behind them, that I thought you'd be interested in." He pointed to the first one, which looked like a shimmering piece of filigreed metalwork. Almost gauzy, it's edges were all very sharp. Seemed to weigh a few pounds, too.

"This is an unfolding portal. A past incarnation of myself commissioned it from the Great Foundry, and it works via the specific application of a portal key. The small blood sample from Kesai-Serris, Ravel's daughter, qualifies as such."

I nodded in acknowledgement, waiting for him to continue. She was mentioned earlier as the daughter of the infamous night hag and a cambion. The Brothel of Slating Intellectual Lusts contained quite a few interesting people, including the succubus Fall-from-Grace who now traveled with the scarred man here.

"This thing is a crutch, obviously," Greyface pointed to the large, rickety wooden staff leaning beside the small table. It had rags on it and smelled terrible, but was otherwise in good condition. "I wouldn't have normally told you about this, but I cleared it with Annah first. This crutch is the personal portal key to Pharod's vaults - a massive, open complex bigger than the main floor of the Civic Festhall, all filled with old books and thrown out treasures accumulated over the course of many years."

I looked at in in a new light. It would now be worth far more than the kindling it appeared to be.

"If it is Pharod's, why is it here...?" I asked the mithril-armoured, grey-skinned man.

"Inheritance," he replied, with a half smile. The scars shifted with the movement. "Not so much mine as Annah's. Seeing as to how he raised her, and she didn't really get much out of it, well... Hers now. We found him, dead, as soon as we returned to his little 'court' in the buried city."

"Alright. Then a better question would be, if it is Annah's, why are you bringing it up to me?"

"I'm a middle-man," he replied. "Since she saw me spending so much money of yours, Annah thought that she could tap some of that for herself, especially with an item of such value."

I stroked my chin in contemplation, looking between the crutch and Greyface. He already knew I was hooked.

"Absolutely, Greyface. If we can invite Annah in afterwards, we can talk terms, alright?" I resettled my hands on the armrests, and he continued talking after a nod.

Mike-ster? After he finishes the items on the table, say something like "I know there is a community of the undead underground. They are led by an unspeaking king and an skeleton priest." It will be worth it for us - speak the truth about it if questioned, though, Nessi mentally told me.

I sent a smile though our shared mindspace and focused back on Greyface. He was holding up a small, strange blade.

"This particular knife is normally so dull that it could barely break skin," he began. "However, it is much more than it's appearance suggests. Commisioned by Coaxmetal - the same iron golem that gave me the parts for the dreambuilder, remember? - it's shape looks like one of the marks on my left arm."

Without me prompting him, Greyface made the few adjustments to his armour so that the arm in question could be examined. They were the same, looking like a sharp and jagged, four-pointed symbol. The mark on his left arm was different, with the shadowed and filled outline of a crying woman's tears turning into a series of symbols. The small dagger, in turn, was different from the basic form of the mark on his arm by having black veins worming across the surface of the metal. Once I had gotten a good look, he restored his armour in place.

"It also pulses slightly," he said. "I can feel it when I hold it - kind of like a heart. The biggest thing about this dull little dagger is what it is reputed to be able to do."

He took a few deep breaths, suddenly very serious.

"The golem claimed that this 'blade' could slay even me," Greyface continued, eyes focused on the dagger. "All it would take would be to use it in a place that was cut off from the rest of the Planes."

To answer your unthought question, yes, we CAN duplicate it and it would likely work in your Domain, though using a sub-demiplane with no portals would likely make it more reliable, Nessi mentally interjected.

Not wanting to startle him into any sudden movements, I slowly reached over and gently tugged it out of his reach. I then replaced it back on the small table. He didn't resist my efforts, but his eyes tracked the item the whole time.

I coughed, in an attempt to break the spell. With a few blinks, he refocused his attention on me.

"Rainbow? What's with the excessive caution there?"

"Mister grey-skinned immortal," I began. "Have you so quickly forgotten what I really am?" I rested my face on a fist, forearm propped up on the chair's armrest. I added a smile to my question to reduce the biting impact of my words.

His eyes lit up in comprehension.

"You mean that...?!" I nodded, and his hands shot out to hover atop the dull dagger. I prepared myself to burst into action if he was to do a suicidal act, but found it to be unnecessary as his fingers only clenched and unclenched atop it. He replaced his arms by his sides and went through a few more deep breaths.

"Thank you," he finally said. "If I ever run out of more conventional leads to follow, I'll always have this option available." Greyface stared at the dagger then looked up at me again. "If I don't come back, or lose my mind or something - you'll make sure it all ends, right?"

"Of course, Greyface," I replied, straightening up. "I'll add to it with a serious message that makes no sense, okay?"

Somewhat puzzled, he nodded.

"It goes like this: Transcendent One, I can reach you any time. Behave." I only answered his unspoken question with a large grin. As there were no more items on the small table here, I brought up the topic Nessi had told me.

"One last thing - I have a valued contact that has informed me of an undead community, deep underground. They are led by a 'quiet king' as well as a more talkative skeleton priest. I haven't been there personally, of course, but could easily find the way." I tilted my head to the side, questioningly. "Know anything about them?"

He crossed his mithril armoured arms in front of himself, while he favoured me with a raised eyebrow. I stayed silent, with perhaps the edge of a smile hovering on my lips.

"You could say that, yeah," he finally spoke. "I ran across them near the same area as Many-as-One, the rat collective." I nodded in remembrance. "They wanted me to keep silent about them, so... I did. Seeing as to how you already know about them..."

"Pardon," I interrupted. "I don't personally know about them at all. Just to the extent of what I told you - if I wanted to pursue them, I could." I shrugged nonchalantly. "If you've already been there and could tell me about it, I won't have any need to."

"Sure, Rainbow," he replied. "Not that much to tell, really. Three factions - skeletons, zombies and ghouls - mostly led by the skeleton priest and a zombie of substantial intelligence. The ghouls are only kept in check by the threat of the 'Silent King,' who is more dead than undead, if you get my meaning." He pulled out a normal looking skull and placed it on the small table between us. "That king is also now the proud owner of some random corpse's skull, as well. Quick fingers and thieving skills come in helpful in many different situations."

"I even got a talking mace, the Justifier, that way," he stage whispered to me.

Nessi? How are we for copying intelligent items?, I mentally asked her.

Not at all. They fall into the same realm as souls, or close enough to count as such, she replied.

"Are you willing to part with the skull or mace, Greyface?"

He made some grumbling sounds, but finally ended with 'sure.' He then reclaimed the other items from the table, leaving the crutch and the skull of the Silent King there. The mace was pointed out as being on the side table, so he didn't need to even get up.

"That's it for the special items, Rainbow. Now, as far as talking to you before anything meaningful is done, there are a few things. The biggest one is using the unfolding portal, which I showed you earlier. The next one is when or how to use the dreambuilder."

"Which is...?" I asked him.

"Yet another commission done by a past incarnation," he replied. "It would allow me to see my dreams, as I don't normally. Due to... Not having a soul in me, most likely."

I reached over and tapped his shoulder with a closed fist.

"You're still following options, Greyface. No dead ends yet."

"Right. Anyways, after that, there is the likely one-time use of a rare potion called the 'elixir of horrific separation', supposed to split a being into two parts if they are possessed or something. Another one is whether to see if my decanter of endless water over there," he indicated the side table with a tilt of his head, "could put out the burning man, Ignus, at the bar based around him, and the last is... What to tell Iannis about his daughter... That a past self of mine likely lead to her death."

Iannis? My advocate?

"What's this about Iannis, Greyface?" I asked him. In response, he brought up his left hand. There, on his ring finger, was a small, twisted band of metal. He lowered it after I had a good look.

"Apparently one of my past selves was a bit of a... Manipulative, ruthless bastard," he said. "That vision of him was supported by the comments of Morte and Dak'kon, both of whom travelled with him. I've forgiven them now, but... It was a shock knowing that they knew me and didn't say anything. Morte... A past me freed him and a few crazy ones even attacked him... Dak'kon... By the gods... That same bastard had him agree to a service that lasted to the death, not informing the gith that he was immortal."

"But what really topped it all was his manipulation of Deionarra, the daughter of Iannis." Greyface tilted his head down, likely ashamed by the memory. "I ran across her ghost in the Mortuary and a recording of her sensory experiences in the Civic Festhall sensorium. From what I gathered from those two sources, as well as my own odd flashbacks and the info supplied by my Dak'kon and Morte, she..."

He stopped and took some time to go through a series of deep breaths.

"She completely and utterly loved him. What she got from that was honeyed words from a man that knew nothing but her ultimate usefulness to him, a loveless marriage, and an arranged death to tie her very soul to a location and act as a bridge between planes."

We both stopped at the sound of Jessica sniffling. She was quiet and professional the whole time, so the break in that pattern was slightly jarring. By unspoken consent arranged through eye contact and head gestures, we kept silent and waited.

Nessi? Can you let Silla know that Jess experienced news of some unpleasant stuff at work? Anything they can do for an extra special time would be approved, I mentally spoke.

On it, head-mate. By the time you are all done here, she should have a very warm welcome, Nessi replied.

It took only a few minutes for her to audibly recenter herself. A muttered 'thanks' confirmed it, and Greyface resumed.

"Yeah... So... That ring was the wedding ring she left for me. It will serve as a reminder, and maybe I could put her soul to rest when all this is done." He rubbed the back of his head, looking at me sheepishly. "With all that said, the question of whether to tell Iannis or not seems really simple. The worst he could do is kill me... Or hate me... And neither of those are things I'd even feel like stopping."

"That would have been my recommendation as well, Greyface," I said. "Anything else?"

He shook his head.

"That's it for me, Rainbow. Once those are completed - or not - I'm heading out to see if Ravel will give me some answers. Thoughts? Advice?"

Only definite 'no' is in regards to Ignus, strongly recommended by Ziz.

"Thanks for the invitation," I began. "To address your 'to do' list, you already answered yourself about Iannis and the elixir is interesting, but you can use it where needed. I put a heavy 'should not' in regards to Ignus. Right now he isn't harming anyone or doing anything, and you might potentially open a genie's bottle that you have no way of easily closing afterwards."

I pulled out a set of ten prayer notes from my hammer-space and laid them across the small table.

"In regards to the dreambuilder, I am all for you using it. However," and here I tapped the parchment notes, "these are worth one hundred thousand gold, total. I'd like you to bribe, beg or outright buy the required permissions and manpower to move the dreambuilder from the Foundry to here. Ideally you should only need one of those, but the full ten are available. This is a serious request on my part - are you in alignment with it?"

"Sure, Rainbow," he replied. "Could you tell me why you want it, though?"

"I'm going to eat it, of course." I flashed my teeth and made some chomping noises for emphasis. "So get as much use out of it as you can before, as afterwards... It might be available in some form, but probably unlike the original."

"Got it. If I can't get it rush ordered today, I'll make sure that steps are put in place," he said. "What about Ravel?"

"What about her?" I asked him. "You're going unless some overwhelming force will stop you, and that certainly isn't my intention. I'll ask that you do everything else before that and stop in for a send-off, but that is about it. If you know of any magic items or other preparations, please ask and I'll do my best to provide them."

I kneaded my fingers together and placed them on my lap.

"Very true," he replied. "Everything you recommended sounds above board." He paused, leaning forward towards me, and I followed his actions with curiosity. "Tell me something," he whispered. "Rainbow, are you actually part of Sigil... Or not?"

"Not," I replied.

We both leaned back into our respective chairs. He stared at me, presumably deep in thought.

"Portals?" He asked.

"Very easy, to everywhere except Sigil. Though I'd need either someone who has been to a place before or some way to signal me. I would not want to mess around with the Lady's mazes, if you were thinking about that in regards to Ravel..."

He waved off my explanation.

"No, I was more thinking about ways to contact you, emergency retrieval and so on." He shrugged, then caused a brace of knives to appear between his fingers and disappear right after. "Not that I'm unprepared, it's just that I'd rather have it and use it, than not and can't."

"Very true," I replied. I wracked my mind for a few moments before turning to my executive assistant. "Jess?"

"Yes, Sanctum?"

"You've been following along, right?" She nodded. "Can you help out Greyface here with some suitable recommendations? I'll make them once you finalize a decent inventory."

She agreed, and they went back and forth over a some topics, including his maximum spell casting level. I ended up making analyze portal, Mordenkainen's magnificent mansion, and seal portal. Rary's interplanar telepathic bond was mentioned, but discarded as too high of a security risk. Some miscellaneous planar mapping objects were made, with one of a paired planar ring gates and a lesser artifact, a tome of books, being the capstones. For the sake of security, I told him that his end of the planar ring would disappear if was left more than ten feet away from him for over a minute. I also cautioned him not to use it if there was any chance of it's discovery, unless it was an actual emergency.

Things went simpler with Annah. I presented her a choice of either half a million gold pieces worth of favour parchments, the 'at retail cost' value of everything in the vault on faith, or the same deal I gave Greyface. After only a moderately long period of indecision, she went with the 'same deal.' I traded out the parchments for a gifted large purse of gold coins and gave her a hammer-space ability while she explained how to use the crutch as a portal key. She left happy, though her mood soiled when going back into the main room. I heard some mutterings about an 'accursed succubus' before the door closed.

Then it was just Jessica and me again, quiet.

"Sanctum, I -"

I cut her off with a raised hand.

"By now, Silla should be ready to welcome you back home. Where you can relax, and we'll talk tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure..." She sighed out the word, slumping.

"Good to go, Jess?" I asked her.

She stood up, then straightened her blazer and smoothed out her pants. After taking a deep breath, she nodded at me. I sent her back to the main lounge with a snap of my fingers.

Nessi dearest?, I thought into our shared mind-space.

Mike-ster?

I was thinking of giving the both of them a holiday. They could probably use it. Actually, when was the last time I gave either of them a holiday?

Ah... You've never given them a holiday. They have only had incidental time off when neither were needed, or extra long weekends and so on. Probably the longest stretch was about three days, uninterrupted.

Gah! That is... Well over a year, then?

Yep.

Okay, I've got some ideas. How about...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Friday, August 11th, 2057 (SR) - Sanctum

We stood in front of the extensively revised Rainbow Rubikon dungeon zone. Silla and Jessica had not brought any visible luggage, as they both now had permanent hammer-space inventories. I was going over the details of the interior space for the last time, summarizing them.

"Alright..." I began, addressing them both. "The current configuration is set to something like a tropical paradise, with 'rooms' the size of very small islands, each linked by small tunnels at the four cardinal points. You can change it at any time by speaking to the head modron who is located in the hotel basement. You shouldn't experience any problems, but if there are any, you can either come back out - you'll appear right here - or use your supplied emergency teleporters. They automatically send both of you out if either activate them."

I pulled out two tiny vials, shaped like perfume samplers, from my own hammer-space, and held one out to each of them.

"This little thing is an elixir of youth. Each drop will take one year of age off of you, and each bottle has about five and a half drops in it." They each took a bottle and stowed them away. "You two have officially a maximum of six months in there, but..." I looked at them both with a glare. "If you happen to die of old age somehow, your bodies will be teleported out here as well. I'll be very cross with you in such a case."

My smile proved ineffective at conveying the seriousness of my statements.

"So... Step through there," I indicated the multi-hued, glimmering wall behind them, "making sure to hold hands with each other, and I look forward to seeing you both back here in a few seconds."

Silla gave me a hug which Jess only copied after she was pushed towards me. With a wave and a 'bye!', they disappeared into the glowing surface.

After barely enough time to blink twice, they appeared coming out of it. They were both extremely tanned, as was visible from the tropical style of clothing they were wearing. Each had on a wrap tied around their waist and a triangle styled bikini top. That was it.

"HEY SANCTUM!" Jessica all but screamed at the top of her lungs upon seeing me. "It's SO GREAT to be back! How are you doing?!"

She jumped up on me and wrapped her arms around me while I was still reeling in shock.

"Hello to you too, Jess," I managed to eventually speak. "How was your holiday?"

"Awesome!" She moved her mouth close to my ear and began to whisper. "You have no idea how much kinky shit we did. Let me tell you..."

Silla came to my rescue by tickling her misbehaving fiancée, getting Jessica to flail around and fall off me. The wrap around her waist fell off in the action, and I made sure that my eyes remained focused on Silla's substantially more dressed form.

Jess restored her clothing and was seemingly pulling out items at random, talking to herself, then replacing them in her hammer-space.

"Is she... Okay, Silla?" Jess didn't seem drunk, only very, very excited.

"Oh, she's fine, Mike," she said. "We just decided on picking a date for getting married before we stepped out. Since we've been together for years, and engaged for..." Silla looked at me, coughed, then turned her head to the side, blond hair shielding her eyes. "For about a year, we thought it was a great time to finalize it. We'd like to crash and get back into the swing of things for... Say... Tomorrow?" She looked at me inquisitively.

"Absolutely!" I replied. "As soon as you tell the others that the 'welcome back' party for you two is canceled. It's right over there." I pointed behind me. I saw her distraught expression and tried to reassure her. "Or... You can attend it. It'll be fine. Just get Jess to put some more clothes on and let everybody show how much they appreciate you two, alright?"

She let out a groaning sigh that was spoiled by her smile. In a short while, both of them were dressed more suitably and the three of us headed into the party-to-be.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Saturday, August 12th, 2057 (SR) - Sanctum

"...And the dreambuilder should be done being reassembled inside the Sigil storefront in less than a week, Silla... Ah! Mike! Sanctum!"

Jess had been doing minor little mistakes during our whole little debrief.

We were in my private lounge, yet again, with the platinum white form of Ziz behind me, towering over at a bit less than three times my height. She was doing some of her delightful humming and massaging my upper back, while I was partially reclined in a sofa-chair of sorts. An ice-filled glass of apple juice provided the appearance of sophistication with none of the alcohol, while the view inspired.

The main portal 'window' was currently set to be in the Outlands, far enough away from the central spire that all magic functioned without issue. The peak of it was centred in the view, framing the torus of Sigil nicely. Not that I tested the magic dampening effects of the Outlands center, of course. But given my self-contained nature, it should at most only shut down portals without impacting my interior. No point in the risk without a reason.

Jessica was also seated here, off to my side. She was doing the very obvious 'I'm waiting for you to get ready to listen to me' stance, one that I was very familiar with from our Earth Bet days.

The only real absence from the routine of old was my - no, the - Lionheart, who had grown attached to the tinyjammer and were often hanging around the Greenery or the Rubikon dungeon.

I really need something to do with my hands, I thought. Moments later, a rather large platinum white calf and foot were shifted in front of me, from the side.

I blinked at the sight, shrugged and finished my glass. Placed out of reach, I started to work. For such a large foot, it sure is soft. Must be all that floating around. No nail polish, either. I wonder...

A cough brought me out of my musings.

"Oh," I exclaimed in surprise, just now remembering Jessica. "Ah... Apologies, Jess. Please go ahead with the most recent summary."

She let out somewhat of an angry huff.

"I'm screwing up your name and you're not even asking why, Sanctum," she said.

"Jess," I turned my head to face her, hands still working on automatic, "I imagine that it could be one or more of your greeting to me out of Rubikon, your behaviour at the party, the confirmation of your marriage date, getting used to coming back to work after such a long time off, lack of sleep or simply having your bride-to-be excessively on your mind." I paused, considering. "Did I miss anything?"

Jessica froze, mouth agape for a brief moment. It closed with a snap.

"Ah..." She began, likely trying to think of something. "Those were the major ones. We were thinking of a ceremony with Lastai's priesthood, as the chapels for her and St. Cuthbert have already been installed." She stopped herself from going back to her computer pad. "What did you pick up from that goddess, anyways?"

I thought about it. There were more rejected powers than taken ones from her, all things considered.

"Two effects, really. One based on speaking truth in relationships and the other in sharing sensory experiences between lovers." I focused on Ziz's toes. I was almost done her calf and foot by this time. Jessica remained absolutely silent.

"Do you... Can you grant us those abilities?" She finally asked me.

"Sure," I continued before she could exult too much, "just talk it over with Silla, check it with Ziz and consult with the Taylors. After that, have both of you write me up a ten page report, double spaced, about what exactly you are looking for out of those abilities and the potential pros and cons inherent to using them."

Jess replied with a somewhat groaning sound of agreement. I muffled my brief instant of laughter, and let go of Ziz's foot. Her other leg replaced it in short order.

"There was some frantic activity among the three hundred recently," she said, somewhat hesitantly. I encouraged her to continue with unspoken sounds, visibly focused on Ziz's calf. "It happened when Silla mentioned wanting a 'buff gay guy' for a bodyguard. Things went kind of overboard - some gay women were so cabin feverish that they were willing to get sex changes and sexual orientation changes, just so that they could get out."

I stilled at her words, shocked. Ziz shook me out of it with some toe wiggling, and I resumed massaging her.

"Problem area for sure, then," I said, making some contemplative sounds.

"Ziz angel?" She responded to my call towards her attention with some wingtip brushing over the back of my head.

"Any serious problems if we keep a rotating batch of a third of our forces on combined shore leave and ultra-light duties?" Another round of ultra-soft wingtip brushing supported the breaking of the cabin-fever madness.

It really sucks when I could have asked her that any time. Her massage of my upper back was interrupted by a few pats on my back, as if to say 'there, there.'

"Jess?"

"Yes, Sanctum?"

"Pass the news to the three hundred that effective tomorrow, they will all be viable for combined rolling shore leave and ultra-light duties. All standard security policies to be followed, and the first hundred with the highest cultural aptitude scores for the Shadowrun planet will be the initial batch." I paused for a few breaths. "Have you, Silla and Taylor pick your own squads of at least three different shifts worth, about twelve to fifteen people each. They can be pulled from any of three hundred that are interested in doing so. Make sure that everybody is wearing locally appropriate clothing and I'll ensure that some vehicles are produced. Sounds good?"

"Absolutely!" She exuberantly replied.

I sent her an incredulous look and she calmed down somewhat, at least visibly.

"Moving on... The third party employee hunter never hit oil. He passed plenty of people our way, but none of them passed our screening. A thank you note with some coins was passed his way for the effort. The next set of ideas involves buying out the entire indentured slave market and passing them to Suplindh. One single independent name that came up was Sebastion, a contract-based magic user. Greyface also had a good impression of a street walker named Amarysse, through her brother, Nodd the Collector was in rough shape."

"All sounds good to me, Jess," I replied.

"Some people he mentioned are going to be subtly invited to come in," she said. "One of the more notable goes by the name of Unfulfilled-Desire, who apparently has the ability to literally consume the presence of a desire right out of someone. Lots of potential there for addicts and more. The other great resource depends on how the elixir of horrific separation works - if it can be used against insect spirit infected people, there is another viable tool for us in the Shadowrun Earth."

"Speaking of which, Nadja Daviar was nominated as Vice President of the UCAS as expected. One more reason to get on the good side of the upcoming Draco Foundation, regardless of how hard-ball you want to play it," Jessica said.

"How ready is Silla for the initial reading of the will on the fifteenth?" I asked, finally getting around to Ziz's toes. "Contacts made, scroll case found and so on?"

"Prepped and ready, Sanctum," she replied. "Lots of different lairs and artifacts hit in the disposable time line, but nothing that we found necessary to pick up in the main one - except in regards to subtly tracking them for future purposes."

"Excellent news," I said. "What else is happening?"

"The research results from Able Ponder-Thoughts have..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tuesday, August 14th, 2057 (SR) - Washington FDC, UCAS

There were five shadowrunners gathered here this evening. They came in through the various international 'Umbrella Import Group' rooms, which had already been tested and approved by the various shore-leave members of the three hundred. Silla had 'interviewed' them individually, if by 'interview' you meant showing them a dossier of their entire life stories and throwing it away. It was meant to be a demonstration more than a threat, but it could be taken either way.

She had just finished with the last person, a late twenties blond, when Jessica and myself walked into the waiting room. She passed by us as we came in. Jess was trailed by a self-propelled meal cart. We all stopped by the large table in front the seated group and gave them a nod of recognition before seating ourselves as well.

The cart unfolded robotic arms and began pulling out dishes and taking off lids. The last step was full place settings, which included silverware, crystal dishes and fine porcelain plates. The runners were silent during this entire process, though there were various appraising eyes cast over the items.

When the bottles of extremely expensive wine was passed out, those eyes widened further. I only gave a big grin in recognition.

"Hello everybody, I'm glad you are here," I began. "I had instructed my people that you were all to be treated with the utmost courtesy, so please let me know if that is not the case."

Nobody spoke up to say so.

"You should all still be armed at this point, but that isn't an issue for me," I said, then waved a hand over the food. "Everyone is welcome to have some or not. I don't know what your individual preferences or trust levels are, but I intend to eat."

"Thanks, this looks great!" The young man of the bunch spoke up. Apart from a well done up suit, his only other distinctive feature was a top of spiky red hair. He extended a hand in my direction. "I'm Kia, and you are...?"

I shook it and replied.

"Call me Rainbow Umbrella, Kia," I ended my words with a chuckle. "And yes, I do use that as my name in some circles without breaking out in laughter. Nice to meet you."

I started to load up my own plate, and the others followed suit. Each one greeted me in their own fashion, but kept to the courtesy of a handshake that Kia had led with.

Ma'fan had her eyes more on the cutlery, dishes and wine bottles than the food. She was an internationally based professional cat burglar, with an extensive background in art history and styles. On my end, I wasn't personally familiar with the history of the objects I created. I simply made them with Nessi's recommendation of 'very expensive old set pieces.'

I coughed to get her attention, then spoke out in a stage whisper.

"You know, I've got enough of all these things that I wouldn't mind them going missing." Her expression deadened, perhaps insulted by the implication. "However, just make sure that they don't go on the open market. The original owners might... Take offence."

That was enough to make a recovery, and she favoured me with a brief half smile. Ma'fan was the only non-Caucasian of the group, a fact which I hoped could be changed in time.

Jess and myself managed to eat without being drawn into any extensive conversations. I finished most of my meal before speaking further.

"You all being here, now," I panned my gaze across the assembled group. "Means that you have all been screened, vetted and approved. In essence, from my end you have already all been hired. It's my job to fully explain what I'm looking for and to check whether you are interested in it."

"Interested in what, Mister Umbrella?" The blond mage, Kellan Colt, asked of me. She was wearing grey-scale digital camouflage pants and a jean jacket. An amulet hung from her neck, likely of some personal significance.

I wagged a finger in her direction.

"Now that would be telling," I chastised her. "So..." I paused. "I'm telling." I chuckled at my own joke, but nobody else did. Jess covered some noises with a cough, and I sighed in disappointment.

"Tough crowd, eh? No worries. I'm not here to be a comedian, though at times I might be mildly amusing." I rubbed my hands together and leaned forward. "As far as you are all concerned, the purpose is based around an elite shadowrunner 'dream team' of sorts. You'd be given tremendous support and operational leeway, dependent on what you all agree on."

Spotting Ma'fan's potential objections, I cut in again before she could.

"I am personally capable of assisting in whatever problems or issues you'd have against working in a team, with each other, and in the shadows or the light, as appropriate. This coming week is the period in which I aim to prove that beyond all doubt. If you still have objections by then, I'll happily address them."

"Just as a point of curiosity," I said, swirling around some chilled apple juice in my crystal wine glass, "where do you think you all are at this point?"

"South East Asia, or close enough." Kia was again the forerunner in responses, and I nodded at him in agreement.

A hubbub of activity arose from his simple comment, as everybody compared where they 'knew' they were picked up from. I didn't help anything by agreeing with every suggestion, either.

Eventually the older of the two mages, Winterhawk, spoke up with a question directed my way. He had a full head and trimmed beard of black and grey hair, which greatly complimented his suited, gentleman mage look.

"Pardon me, Mister Umbrella," he began, "would we happen to be in a bubble metaplane? And perhaps never even left the room your associates directed us to?"

I wiggled my eyebrows at him.

"You are the closest of all the bunch here, Winterhawk. I could reliably say that you are, much like everyone else here, both right and wrong at the same time." All the shadowrunners were silent at this time, looking at me. "To spoil the suspense, I'll say that firstly, yes, we all are on an alternate plane; secondly, no, you actually are all here physically; and thirdly..." I paused, giving them only a smile. "Look behind me."

As I said that, I created portals to each of the locations mentioned by the runners. They weren't free-standing, instead appearing in one of five semi-circular wire-frames. The windows into space, as they appeared, were ringed with a glowing energy that I had added to give them a bit of visual oomph.

"Please feel free to inspect them, and even toss trackers through," I said, loading up my plate some more. "Just don't step through quite yet, alright?"

I was speaking to mostly empty air at that point, as the group as a whole had gotten up and went towards the portals. Jess whispered something to me about them tossing small electronics through.

"No live grenades either!" I spoke loudly after I finished my current mouthful of medium-rare steak.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The atmosphere was very different after their inspection of the portals. The two mages looked the most wary, while the middle aged street samurai ignored the background mood and kept on eating steaks. He was the largest of the group, by both muscle and height. He was also the only one with an obvious cyberlimb, which was a fully replaced right arm. When the group wasn't chatting with each other, they were staring at him in rapt fascination. He had to have gone through at least seven slabs so far.

"Cayman?" I said, directing my question to the big man himself.

He rapidly chewed, swallowed and topped it off with a sip of wine. He cleaned his mouth with his napkin and looked my way.

"Yes, Mister Umbrella?"

"If you want, I can prepare a large mass of those for you in any form - frozen, pre-cooked, marinated, ready-to-eat," I said. "It won't be any trouble at all."

"If you're sure...?" He asked me, looking down at his current half-done steak in longing.

"I'm sure."

He sighed and pushed the plate towards the center of the table. The robotic food cart carefully picked it up, sorting out the remains and stacking the dish with the others. Once the table was completely cleared, it beeped twice and left out the same way we had came in.

"I'm assuming that nobody desperately wants dessert...?" I asked the question to the group, but my own - and everybody else's - gaze drifted to Cayman. Catching our stares, he merely shook his head in the negative.

"Excellent! We can move on then."

Another robotic trolley wheeled into the room as I finished speaking, coming to arm's length of myself and beeping twice. The middle section opened and I pulled out five computer tablets. Each one was absolutely featureless except for the screen, done in a matte black colouration and about the size of a hardcover novel, if substantially thinner. I placed them in the center of the table and gestured towards them in invitation.

"This device - which should be turning on now - is what is handed out to my employees. It is informally called The Catalogue. In it, you should find most anything available internationally, whether available in retail markets or restricted to only the most black ops corporate accounts. However, each entry is missing one thing." I looked at the group panning through their computer pads with obvious enthusiasm, showing each other the odd piece or making sounds of surprise.

Ma'fan was the one to answer my indirect question.

"None of these entries have any prices listed," she said.

"Absolutely correct, Ma'fan," I replied, with an extra large smile. "Now, for the bonus round - would you wager a guess as to why that is so?"

I could see her struggling to admit what would be the obvious truth, but her burglar background and intrinsic valuing of items that came her way likely clashed with that impossibility. Almost like the child pointing out the emperor was wearing no clothes, so too did Cayman sum it up in simple terms.

"Nothing in here costs anything, right?" He asked me.

"Your turn to be absolutely correct, Cayman." I acknowledged the big man with a slow nod, which he returned less formally. He then went back to looking over his own personal tablet.

"For your information," I addressed the whole group, "there are certain significantly lax rules which I require to be followed in regards to using the Catalogue. First, it is for you alone. If you want to do something like hand out rifles at street corners or chuck gold bars off a bridge, please ask first. Secondly, no resale. It is for your use and your use only. If you don't want something, it will be retrieved. Thirdly, if you ever see something that is not listed in here, please mention it via the submission options. There is also special custom orders, such as Echo-grade cybernetic and and bio-augmentations."

"Those would be somehow better than Delta grade, Mister Umbrella?" Cayman asked me, the fingers of his own cyberarm flexing with the question.

"Correct," I replied. "As far as I know, my organization is the only one on this planet that offers them, and you all are the first to be offered them to. Their primary selling point is that they are enhancements that have zero essence cost."

I looked around, coughed. They were staring at me in disbelief, but otherwise quiet.

"I was waiting for someone to say 'impossible!' or 'preposterous!', you know," I said, giving them a mock glare.

"Impossible! Preposterous!" Cayman said, totally deadpan.

"Thanks," I replied, equally flat. "To add to that, our services also include restoring lost essence, age reduction, metatype modification, regeneration and..." I stretched out the silence. "...Resurrection."

"That is... Normally impossible," Winterhawk said, "but... I'll reserve final judgement until I see your proof."

"The other big ticket items are magical devices that can be used by the non-Awakened."

Winterhawk looked at Kellan, as if to prompt her.

"Preposterous, right?" She asked me.

I held a finger up in the air, dramatically waving it around. Each of my following words were punctuated by a stab at the sky.

"Not! Any! More!" I reached in and took out a clasp-based, thick bracelet from the robotic cart's midsection. "Jess? If you would?"

I proffered it to her and she picked it up, displaying it to the group. Then, perhaps with much less dramatics than what I wanted, she snapped it on her free wrist and promptly disappeared from visible sight.

A chorus of gasps and other muttered exclamations ran around the table side. It was turned to silence when Jessica unclasped it, becoming visible again. She handed it to Winterhawk and he started to examine it closely. Some seat shuffling occurred as Kellan moved beside him. They both talked in low voices for a few minutes while I picked up two more and passed them out.

Kia, Cayan and Ma'fan all disappeared and reappeared with no problems. There were passed back to me, though the Asian cat-burglar seemed especially reluctant.

"You haven't seen the really good stuff yet," I spoke quietly, gently tugging it from her grip. "Kellan? Winterhawk? Have you two reached a consensus yet?"

"It is certainly magical, Mister Umbrella," the elder mage spoke. "We just can't place the system used or the true nature of it."

"You can give that up, then - you won't be able to," I said, holding out my hand. "Did either of you want to try it, or are we done with this bit of show and tell...?"

They both briefly tried it on and off a few times then passed it over. There was a rather high level of anticipation present.

"The next offering is rather mundane in comparison. Intelligence, so to say. All of you were earlier briefed by Silla, who should have had a rather extensive detailing of your life - beyond what anyone has ever assembled before...?"

Nods and words of agreement answered my question, though Ma'fan had a slight, but obvious frown. The presence of the records that were shown to her contraindicated her own due diligence in having her digital records scrubbed.

"Alright..." I stopped myself from speaking further, instead leaning towards Jessica. "Opinon check, Jess - would it make more sense to get Quietus on board now, or...?"

She looked from me to the group, doing a brief facial inspection of each.

"It should be fine for now, Rainbow," she quietly spoke. "Just minimize the drama, alright?"

"Got it," I replied.

"Okay, a brief interruption, runners," I started. "While I was going to pass out some interesting intelligence, I'd prefer you get the last currently planned prospective member for your group. However, seeing as how he is dead right now, there is a few steps involved. Who's up for getting me a chunk of a corpse and seeing a resurrection?"

Winterhawk's hand shot up at a speed somewhere between 'eager beaver' and 'magical foci at the auction block, last call.' While he wasted time looking embarrassed about his reaction, the others made various signs of agreement.

"Awesome! Now, if the diggers could just come over to this portal, I'll give you some brief instructions..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Everybody stared at the piece of mostly rotten thigh-bone on the ground, muscles still attached.

"That's it, then?" Winterhawk asked me. He was obviously referring to both the extent of the recovered tissue and the absolute lack of any preparations. We were in yet another generic brown room with sufficient lighting, though it was large enough for everyone to stand comfortably.

"Yep, that's it. No special tricks or doodads needed." I crouched down beside the rotten piece, giving it a poke. Eww. "Well, if anybody wants to watch what I'm doing, they better come close. I won't be speaking loudly."

To my surprise, everybody except Jess did. She remained to the back and side of myself, while Kellan and Winterhawk had the spots of honour right beside me.

"Okay, this is how it's going to go. I'm going to maintain physical contact with the tissue while it regrows into full form. Then, at some point when the state of ideal health has been reached, the soul will be pulled back into the body."

Kellan gestured for attention and I nodded for her to speak.

"How do you know the right soul will get pulled in, all things considered? ...Mister Umbrella?" She asked me.

"For now, I'll just say that I have my ways." I gave her an enigmatic smile. "If you want to stay and sign up, so to speak, I can give you - and the others - a more detailed explanation. But for now - that's it. Alright?"

She was clearly disappointed, but didn't push it further.

"Furthermore," I continued from before, "resurrection might be jarring. It is not usually, but... Some small amount of minutes. He will also not have any clothes, so a robe will be provided." I looked at Jess, who was holding one folded over her crossed arms. "Now, another option I'm going to exercise is that of permanent bodily modification of another. Quietus was originally a male from Greece, but I'm going to ask him in this hazy state what he really wants to be. It could always be changed back afterwards, but the honesty in this situation could prove interesting." I breathed deeply a few times and looked around the group once more. "Any more questions before I begin?"

Cayman held up his hand and I nodded.

"Can I record this, Mister Umbrella?" He asked me.

Hmm. I finally shrugged.

"Sure, go ahead. Any of you can, actually." I waited till they all pulled out various devices and held them in their hands.

Ready and... Poke!

It wasn't very impressive. It went exactly as I foretold - and how I had practised in the disposable time lines. He filled out to full size before Jessica passed me the robe, which I draped on top of his body. At some point past his hair growing out and a flush of blood filling his cheeks, there was a gasp and his eyes fluttered half-open.

Winterhawk and Kellan both made sounds of shocked surprise at seeing the event.

"Did you see that?" Winterhawk asked his fellow mage from behind me, half whispering.

"Yes!" She replied. "There was nothing, then all of a sudden the soul was back! I've never seen anything like that!"

I tuned them out to focus on the Greek male in front of me. I put my face only a few inches above his and spoke quietly.

"Quietus? Quietus, can you hear me?"

"Yes..." He replied.

"I brought you back from the dead, but I want to know - did you ever want to be somebody else? Something else? I can change you now, before you are fully back."

"Uhh... Okay..." He mumbled, as if he was half asleep. "I'd like to be... A smoking hot elf babe. With big... You know... The kind of woman that would have made me fall over my own two feet. That would be... Crazy... Fine..."

I turned my head to either side, where the other two mages had crouched to listen in. I gave them both a light shrug as if to say, 'well, he asked for it, what do you want me to do?' I started changing him. More revisions followed, one after another, all along the same theme. The end result looked like a stacked elven pop music goddess, or perhaps a star of more adult-centered entertainment.

"Okay, Quietus. I'm bringing you back all the way... Wake up!" I brought my body back upright and clapped, loudly. He, now very much a she, jerked out of her half-asleep state and sat up. The robe that was covering her upper body fell down, giving the other group members a good eyeful.

"Damn," Cayman drawled, stretching out the word. Kia echoed him, if quieter.

"Men," Ma'fan muttered, as if swearing, and went to the sitting woman and held up the robe to protect her modesty.

Quietus seemed to have recovered enough to speak by this point.

"What's going on?" She asked.

"You were just raised from the dead and transformed into a... Very attractive elven woman," Ma'fan replied.

"Oh. Okay." She looked down at her chest, moving the robe away slightly from where Ma'fan was holding it. Her eyes widened in shock. Quietus then looked all around, face scrunched up. "This is really strange, you know. I don't have any plans for what to do in this situation."

I coughed, then waved once he looked back at me.

"I'm the one that resurrected you and changed your form," I said, still crouching on the brown floor. "I really hope that both of those things are to your liking, Quietus."

"Great, thank you. Mister...?" She extended an arm towards me, but lost herself in looking at it half-way through. I completed the movement anyways, taking hold of her hand and shaking it. She withdrew it back under the robe afterwards.

I shuffled to her front side so that she wouldn't have to bend so much to see me.

"Rainbow Umbrella, Quietus. Nice to see you back among the living," I said, then paused, looking at her. "Speaking of, did you want your own killers... Ended?"

"No thanks," she replied. "Death wipes all slates clean, at least in my books." She took hold of the robe from Ma'fan with a word of thanks and slid her self into it, awkwardly. "Though I think I'll drop the Quietus name. Can I have some time here to reorient myself, Mister Umbrella?"

"Of course. Take all the time you need," I replied.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The waiting room from before seemed more balanced with the addition of Quietus. The only real stalling process happened when she was taking to long in the bathroom, whereupon Ma'fan went and brought her back. Everybody did their best to ignore how flushed and sweaty she was. Some details are not shared among people you just met.

Quietus was dressed in a suit tailored to her new body, form-fitting but in a professional way. Jessica pointed out that that was the kind of thing she'd like to wear, instead of the arch-conservative styles I bound her to.

Some time was spent giving the 'new girl' a dinner of her own and catching her up on everything that had occurred. I also gave her a computer pad suitable for accessing the Catalogue.

"Thank you for wanting to stay for the orientation week, Quietus. Even if you don't choose to join, I'd be more than willing to help connect you to others as needed."

She nodded, yawning. Her system was completely mundane at this point, with no boosters or anything included.

"Now then," I began, looking around the room. Everybody had reseated themselves in the same positions they were in originally, with only enough shuffling to balance out Quietus' spot. "The last topic from before our interesting interruption was in regards to intelligence." I fished out six binders from the still-present robotic cart and placed them on the table. Everyone picked up a copy and opened it to the front.

"What you are looking at is the unreleased will of the recently killed great dragon, big D himself, and some summary pages." I waited till they stopped flipping through the binders. "My self and my organization have already taken action to acquire intelligence, assets and contacts in regards to this event. It is due to be read tomorrow morning, by Nadja Daviar, who is also the VP of the UCAS. She stands to gain an absolute windfall of wealth and influence with this action, and I fully support her."

They looked at me in mild surprise. They were perhaps expecting some more harsh attitudes.

"However, just because I support her and her upcoming organization, does not mean I am unwilling to profit from it." I flashed them a big grin. "Please look through it extensively, as there are a few headings we have already followed up on."

"The section on bounties seems rather prominent - you planning on having us hunt blood mages, Mister Umbrella?" Kellan asked me.

Winterhawk leafed through his own binder to the relevant page and looked at me, doubtlessly with the same question on his mind.

"Absolutely," I replied. "Them and toxic shamans. I am currently having a worldwide search being done for them so that they can be gathered up in batches. If... Perhaps... A certain corporation becomes financially vulnerable during this period of uncertainty, I would not be terribly saddened."

Kellan buried her head in one of her hands, doing a combination of laughing and crying at the same time. Nobody drew attention to it.

"One other thing I wanted to mention in regards to the intelligence capacities of my organization," I said. "We have absolute electronic omnipotence over the entire world, furthermore, to easily the limits of this solar system. That can be proved in the future, and is also why I'm not in the slightest asking you to take any extra precautions. As of the time you came in here, yourselves and those under your care have come under our protection. Even if you wanted to quit now and scream out our so-called secrets at the street corners, it would not matter and we would still ensure that you were all hale, whole and healthy."

They seemed to have lost whatever capacity for being surprised or doubting my outlandish claims by this point, as nobody contested or even batted an eyelid at the revelation.

"So it's not so much that you're worried about us blabbing secrets, it's more like you simply... Don't care, right?" Kia asked me.

"Correct, Kia," I replied. "While it does take a microscopic amount of resources, it is negligible in quantity. However, given the choice, I'd prefer it if you did not blab about all this - on the street corners on anywhere else. This includes JackPoint and all those other supposed shadowrunner digital havens."

"The purpose of today was to demonstrate informational and digital supremacy. The resurrection was a bonus." The sound of brief laughter spread among us all, myself included in that amount. "For future reference, please be aware that I have a delayed lie detector capacity. I'd much rather you tell me negative things to my face than false positives for whatever reason."

I let that piece of information percolate throughout the group before speaking again.

"The plan for tomorrow is to meet up at the same rooms that brought you here today. If anybody has questions that they want asked in front of the group, now is the time." Silence. "Quietus, did you want to go with one of them or stay here tonight?"

Ma'fan flashed her hand at the new girl in invitation, and Quietus bought it, hook, line and sinker.

"I'd like to go with Ma'fan, if that is alright," Quietus said.

I looked at her in confirmation, and she nodded.

"Excellent, everyone," I said. "You can keep the binders - they won't be a secret by tomorrow, anyways - and relax for a bit. I need to have a chat with Ma'fan."

I stood up and walked over to the room corner, waiting for her. She had already gone past her brief moment of surprise and followed me there.

"Ma'fan?" I said.

"Yes, Mister Rainbow?" She asked me, sounding cautiously wary.

"A few things. First, do you want me to remove your gremlins - that curse that causes technology to screw up around you?" I asked her.

"Are you... Serious?" She looked at me, half hopeful. The resurrection from earlier likely stopped her more serious objections.

"Absolutely. A lot easier than that resurrection, as well."

"Ah.. Ah... Yes, of course. Thank you! How...?" She stammered, off center at the opportunity being presented to her.

"Since holding hands would be a rather loaded bit of body language, how about we just bump and keep fists together?" I asked her, holding up a fist of my own.

She breathed out a short laugh and held hers against it.

"You won't feel anything, but try tonight to use some basic tech. Tell me how it goes, okay?"

Ma'fan nodded, and I removed my hand.

"That's it?" She asked.

"Sort of..." I replied. "What are your intentions towards Quietus?"

"Is that really your business, Mister Rainbow?"

I rubbed my forehead in irritation.

"Okay, I'll be very clear with you, Ma'fan. Think of Quietus as someone who just had all of her years of puberty hit her at once, and all that that means. Is that something you are prepared to accommodate, or... Not?"

Her only answer was was to hold an extra wide grin for just past a second.

"Good luck, then," I said, shaking my head and smiling.

I headed back towards the main group, getting the portals ready to their original locations. Tonight has ended well.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Any change, Nessi?

Nope. All attempts to reach Aban end up with her raging out of control. Her history showed some incidents of anger, but never like this, and never this long. There are a few mental and spiritual healers across the different multiverses, but... This is a rather complicated situation.

Yeah. The price of not doing the 'very easy' option. What about local Great Dragons?

We could try that in disposable time lines, but lots of things are swamped out right now. Using the skull of the Silent King to pump Lothar for information, further attempts to map the Shadowrun world, scanning the Astral and Ethereal as well as the safer metaplanes here...

Well, we'll put it into the rotation. High priority. The great dragons are being scanned in the disposable as well as getting all their lairs hit, right?

Absolutely, Mike-ster. Some of them have even been done in the main, where clear opportunities are available. There is an absolute massive gold mine of information waiting for you to go through.

I'm sure there is, head-mate. Please just hold it for now and tell me if I get too ignorant or something, alright?

Gotcha. Good night head-mate, and Aban.

Good night Nessi, and Aban.

As I snuggled among the feathers of Ziz's white wings, surrounded by Nessi, Lionheart and the Tinyjammer, I couldn't help but feel... Just a little bit happy. The small smile stayed on my face as I fell asleep.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Append to Sanctum's Notepad:

- Day two of convince the heck out of the shadowrunners to work for me tomorrow.

- That whole 'keep the resurrection thing' secret didn't last that long.

- Taylor got out, escorted. I wonder if she found anything interesting?

- Wedding plans! Wooo!

- Will Silla & Jess actually write up those 10 pages?

- Aban, damn... She is messed up. Where exactly would I go to get assistance for an ethereal being that is bonded to and raging inside a dream-like construct of spiritual form of an avatar of a sentient demiplane?! Huh? HUH!?! ...Dammit.

1.3 - "Chocolate Milk Run Factory in Business"

Wednesday, August 15th, 2057 (Shadowrun calendar) - Sanctum

Today, it was Silla's turn to shine. She had just been driven up to the the Watergate Hotel in one of our few Rolls Royce Phaeton limousines, escorted front and back by guards in Saab Dynamit 776TI's. Among those three vehicles, their base retail cost was about one million nuyen. Needless to say, I didn't spend anything on them. They simply came from the scanned templates collected from many high profile vehicles, and those were the highest priced among the bunch.

Jessica and Silla had already tested out the roomy interior quite extensively since I made it. Parts of the three hundred had already been chosen by both of them for personal guards, though Taylor had stalled on an official selection.

We were all in the main lounge, lying down on reams of cushions, looking up at the large ceiling-screen. This whole experience gave me flashbacks to a night back in Brockton Bay, when the large scale operation to clean up the entire criminal organization across the city was carried out. That time I had to do massed interviews for the 'iffy' captures, while now I have no such distractions.

"Popcorn, Tays?" I asked the Taylor lounging beside me. She waved it off, stern faced, focused on the screen instead. The Taylors had a noticeable sense of restrained irritation when they showed up to watch Silla attend the will reading. It had mellowed out somewhat over the past while.

I returned my gaze to the ceiling screen again. It was an audio-visual feed from Silla's sunglasses merged with that of all other recording devices in the area. The composite picture was then developed by Nessi, creating the seamless impression of a floating, perfectly stable cameraman slightly behind and above our ambassador to the world of the corps. She was wearing wraparound, opaque black sunglasses and an equally severely coloured suit, dress pants included. It was expertly fitted to her frame, with an eye to detail that the three guards with her lacked.

That discrepancy was a calculated act, as it would be problematic to have the 'help' dressed as well as their employer. The only splash of colour was a small, rainbow coloured umbrella, now hidden, that was in the form of a pinned brooch on her blazer. The guards, in turn, had the same symbol done as cuff links on their suit jackets.

They were only challenged briefly at the entrance to the conference hall where the will was to be read. The impeccable digital verification process went on without a hitch, and her front-most guard opened the door.

"Only one person per VIP, buddy," a well armed security officer said, as he held up a hand to stop the latter two guards. "You two will have to hang out in the front lounge like all the others."

"Director?" The Umbrella guard asked Silla. She approved of it with a nod and wave, and they went off to the side. Moments later, they were cut off from view as the now single pair entered the conference hall. She power walked around the exterior border of the sea of chairs, finally coming to her two reserved seats. They were about a half-dozen spots from the aisle, near the outer-most side. By this point, there were only a few solitary empty seats scattered among the whole of the audience. The pair she took was the last of it's kind.

Only a few short minutes passed before the main lights dimmed and the stage lights lit up in response. It was a raised area, about five feet off the ground, with stairs on either side leading up to it. Nadja Daviar, the former translator of the dragon Dunkelzahn, walked on stage to the center podium to polite applause.

The lights dimmed further in the audience, and two guards could be seen near the edge of shadows around the highlighted elf.

"Thank you all for coming here," she said, her voice amplified by the many speakers around the hall. "This gathering, and what I am about to reveal, are..."

Nadja went through a series of introductions and various polite noises, thanking the UCAS government, the people of the Washington FDC, and many more. There was a sensation of light tension throughout the whole experience, as if a big reveal was to occur. We knew what it was, likely along with a few rare others in hotel's audience, but the majority probably had no idea.

She finally started on the main event. Not relying on glasses-borne teleprompts, she instead read from pages in a brown leather bound folio.

"I, Dunkelzahn, being of sound mind and body, do hereby declare this to be my last Will and Testament..."

There was a muted roar that ran among the audience of the hotel.

I ate some more pieces of pop-corn, but found it empty after a single handful. A moment of conscious effort and it was full again.

Tays had some after all, I thought.

It took a few minutes for enough quiet to return to the will reading. Nadja then explained that digital copies of the full document would be provided at the end of the reading, as there was not enough time to go over the entire legalese.

"I have managed to accumulate considerable possessions over the course of my lifetime, almost against my will," she returned to the reading. "That, I suppose, is the nature of dragons, to acquire and accumulate physical representations of our long memories and pasts. We are sentimental creatures at heart; I have yet to know a dragon who can simply throw away anything possessing even the smallest amount of meaning to him."

"To see to the Herculean task of administering my ridiculously vast estate and assure that my wishes are carried out, I authorize my executor, Nadja Daviar, to use what funds are necessary from the balance of my estate for the establishment of the Draco Foundation. This foundation..."

Another series of audience created noise crawled over the assemblage. I tuned it out, instead looking around the central lounge space. I had managed to acquire two of the Taylors, the pair my left, along with Nessi to my right, while Jessica had one Tay on either side of herself. Our two groups were about half a body length apart.

In this case, the body length was that of Ziz - she was lying on her back behind our two groups. Silla and her Tays were bounded by the platinum white angel's calf sides, while my four were more comfortably situated against the side of her torso. Her left arm acted like an additional rest, with the Taylor not immediately beside me using it as such. I had unconsciously altered my position to relax more against the large beauty without noticing it.

What I did notice was a slow and irregular stream of popcorn floating out from the bowl and into Ziz's mouth. Tays was not the only popped corn nabber.

"...with my wishes. To Akira Kageyama, I leave my Vancouver condoplex and the monies in the trust fund established in his name." Nadja continued. "After much research and hundreds of bags of..."

Head-mate, I thought into our shared mindspace, that place was included in the processing too, right?

Nessi turned to my side and gave me a look, piercing blue glowing eyes very much in evidence, along with the contoured ridges of a very raised, brassy eyebrow.

Of course, Mike-ster, she mentally replied. No way would I miss anything as obvious as a location listed in the will itself.

I sighed in relief and patted her nearby metallic thigh.

Sorry, I thought in kind, I've just gone over the will so many times I've began to over-think things in it.

No problem. Want me to give details on the notable entries?

Absolutely!

We settled in to wait through the will reading. The Taylor to my immediate left got spilled into my lap when Ziz closed her arm around us, but apart from a few seconds of grumbling, she settled in comfortably.

"You alright, Tays?" I whispered to her.

"I'm just bugged," she quietly replied, sarcastically. "I was so excited to get out again and I found something... Horrifying. One of the biggest threats to this world are giant, extra-planar insects that destroy the souls of their human hosts that they bond to. Every single living one is the result of that abominable act."

"...Fuck," I eloquently commented. "I can imagine some demons from the abyss doing things like that, but they would typically wait until the person's dammed soul arrived there. To do it while they are still living... That is sick."

"I know!" She thumped my thigh in emphasis. "I'm torn between killing and enslaving them all, but killing them would be a waste of the sacrifice involved... Gah!" The Tay buried her head in my neck, grumbling. I placed an arm around her and she settled down a microscopic amount.

At least she can control them, I thought.

"...Ownership of the First Key of Power to the government of either Tir Tairngire or..."

This one is a major poke in the nose to the elven governments. Basically, full disclosure of the life histories of either of the two elven governments in return for the artifact. Seeing as how they both have a mass of secrets, well...

I chuckled at the image it evoked.

Nothing special with the artifact, we already have better ones.

Nessi shrugged beside me, and I mirrored the actions.

"Hey, Tay?" I quietly asked the grumbler. She made some mumbles in reply. "You can easily control all the bugs here, even the non-physical and astral ones?" More mumbled sounds followed, this time in the affirmative.

The Shroud of Shadows has a special calming effect that takes place over all that it covers...

Wait, what?!

Nessi and me looked at each other.

Aban!/Aban!, we thought at the same time. She nudged me to continue.

Even if it only lasts until it is removed, it could be a way to talk to her. Find out some ways to help... Though... Maybe just in the disposable. No idea what her blow-back would be like.

Very true. Very likely more of the same. It was bugged early on, with a series of self-contained beads. They won't read as anything other than small artistic lumps.

The will reading continued. Orichalcum was a bequest, an already scanned metal with substantial intrinsic magical qualities. The three magic users on my team-to-be might appreciate things made out of them - unless they already splurged on such, via The Catalogue.

The Rose Crystal was an ancient draconic memory gem of significance to the immortal elves. A few minutes of confusion passed when Nessi had to explain to me that yes, this world did have immortal elves. Huh.

"...You may well get it. To Robert Khamdeng," Nadja continued, "I leave the Weeping Stone of Ta'bel and the..."

This one is a very special piece, Nessi thought, everyone here wanted one for themselves to be made after it's abilities were revealed. Also called the "The Sapphire of Elzx'toka Vektamana," it possesses powers regarding a number of influencing factors, but it's most desired quality among... Is that it has the ability to forge permanent magical bonds between two lovers.

I see, I replied mentally, taking a look at the very quiet and very still forms of the four Taylors, none of which were facing my direction. Same situation with Nessi. It would likely need some creative alterations to suit... Everybody.

A traceless series of sighs of relief seemed to be heard from around me, accompanied by a feathery wingtip brushed over my head.

"...That it will remain so." The will reading seemed to go on endlessly. Nadja took the occasional sip of water from a bottle that was placed out of sight. "To George "Locomotive" Fenamore, wherever he is at present, I sadly bequeath the locked steel box number 412 from my private vault at the Manhattan Citibank Depository. The box is not to be opened until he deems it absolutely necessary, or until my comrade manages to successfully "survive" another Double Tuesday. I pray the darkness ends for you someday. To the executor of my will, Nadja Daviar, I grant full disposition of the other fifteen boxes..."

These ones you don't want to hear about. Trust me. You'll be better off not knowing.

I turned my head to look at Nessi's form, relaxed against me. Cautious of her and Taylor, I replied only with a light shrug. I won't pursue it.

"...Disburse it as he wishes. To Alachia, I leave the Everliving Flower. I have..."

This one is rather pretty. Normally a perfectly blooming black rose, it turns red in the presence of dragonkin. You should be able to adapt it to other flowers and conditional reactions for some rather beautiful arrangements.

More items followed. Wyrmstooth, which actually was a dragon tooth; the Tome of Terrin, a book whose contents include secret martial arts techniques; Al Azif by the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred, which was the precursor to the Necronomicon...

Nessi drew my attention to the next will reading on the screen.

"To the first party to identify the victim in the accompanying photo and bring his five perpetrators to justice, I leave the access codes to my property in Paris. The Draco Foundation will release the codes upon receipt and verification of a complete account of the investigation, including the fate of the victim and the perpetrators."

What about it, Nessi?, I mentally asked her. She turned to face me, and her eyes flashed in response. You already solved that one too? Damn...

She resettled against me, but not before she gave me me a large smile.

They are all marked for pickup. An entire digital life history recreation leading up to and past that event, to the current date, will be included with our drop off of them to the authorities.

"...He major in Cognitive Sciences or Thaumaturgical Studies. To Hestaby, I leave the encryption key to my private datastore on board the Zurich Orbital Habitat. Use the knowledge..."

This time, I looked at Nessi in order to prompt a response. I knew that it was obtained easily, much like all the other supposedly secure files the world over.

Well? She only let loose some restrained laughter.

Dragon things, head-mate. Likely won't matter for a few years.

I only sighed and returned my attention to the screen. Nothing has really changed. The audience sat in their seats, the odd one came up for a small item, and Nadja continued talking. Nessi provided more in-depth details of important items as they came up.

...The Seal of the Green Gloves, allowing access into Tibet through the Maya Cloud; the platinum dragon ring of Jane Foster, a power focus; the Elemental Scrolls of Ak'le'ar, a source of arcane lore and fascination by elementals; the Maltese Falcon, which we intend to screw around people with; the Jewel of Memory, a massive storehouse of memories that can be magically partitioned and accessed with the Dragon's brand of telepathy; the four Coins of luck, each enchanted with a specific theme; the Silver Songbird, a very durable, magical and finely wrought singing bird made of silver; the Pale Orchid, also known as the Glitterfrost Orchid, capable of sundering armour with a touch; the Hope diamond, just because...

"Hey everybody!" Jessica spoke up loudly as she signaled all of us. "It is almost time for Silla to come up on stage!" Jess grabbed the hands of the Taylors on either side of herself and shook with excitement.

I was privately amused, but excited nevertheless. This will be a big splash into the high-profile corporate and international world.

"...Wear it in good health and your land prosper thereby. To the first party to find my lair in the Caucasus Mountains, I leave its contents, including clues to the location of two other lairs. In the third lair, you will find a plain brown scroll case. Return the case to the Draco Foundation unopened, and you will receive my lucky preces foot. May it bring you all the good fortune it brought me." Nadja paused, and blinked at the document silently for a breath. "Would the claimant, a Silla Trebheart, director of the Umbrella Import Group, please step up to the stage."

Another set of murmurs swept through the hotel audience as Silla stood up and made her way to the stage. Her guard followed, but he was stopped before the stairs by more security officers. Silla did not directly approach Nadja, instead coming to the side area where a table was set up.

"Greetings director," the aide spoke. "If you could pass us the item, we will verify it's authenticity."

She pulled out black cloth string bag from inside her blazer, then the brown scroll case from within that. She then handed it over to the asking person. The will reading resumed while this occurred, though not before the dark-haired elf stared at Silla's blond form, as if to burn it into memory.

No other claimants had come up while the brown case was being processed. At least one of the aides was a mage of sorts, as the suited man went over the still closed brown case with some sort of orichalcum wand. It had already been poked and prodded with standard technology, as well as basics as simple as a tape measure and ruler.

The mage and aide quietly talked among each other, huddling, before they straightened up. Making some sort of decision, they turned to Silla and bowed, after which the mage signaled someone off stage. Shortly after, a guard walked up to the side table with a small box. After a stopover inspection by the mage, the guard continued to Silla and presented it.

She made a brief show of inspecting it, then nodded in agreement. Before she accepted the box, she reached into her blazer again and withdrew a sealed envelope. It was handed off to the aide and then the box was taken. After a polite nod of thanks to the gathered three officials, she walked off the stage.

The box was kept in her hands as she walked by her guard, and they both walked out. We all knew what the other bequests would be, so there was no point in hanging around. Silla kept to the same sort of power walking pace that she entered the conference hall with, her short heeled dress shoes silent on the commercially carpeted floor.

Barely a second of delay occurred when her guard opened the exit to the conference hall, the security officials outside blinking in surprise. She cleared the door into the center hallway and waited, looking impatient. In under a minute, her other two guards showed up. She gave the box to the nearest one and proceeded to exit the building.

In the lounge, Jessica and the other two Taylors had moved a lot closer to us. The fiancée of the woman of the moment gushed about the experience, turning what was a boring recital of a long document into a stressful contest of will and determination. I was glad that she felt that way instead of nervous fear or anticipation.

How many assorted threats and nasties came up, Nessi?, I mentally asked her, without breaking my expression of genuine happiness.

Oh, a few dozen. Trackers, microphones, delayed and remote controlled bombs. Most were stopped before they even came close to our vehicles. A good thing, too, as driving unscathed away from a large-scale explosion would raise a number of pointed questions. The guards had to deal with their own 'popularity,' but handled it with ease. Contact addresses were put down in their own very low-tech notepads, which amused and fascinated a different number of fellow security types.

And our own counter-measures?

Perfect, of course. All digital traces of our forces were scrubbed, as if they and their vehicles were invisible. The only way to get any records would be if someone does portrait sketches and does it outside of an area I monitor. If they were to bring it in, I'd have bots trash them in turn.

"Excellent," I said with a smile. "Let's look forward to welcoming our public relations director, eh Nessi?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Our informal welcoming committee was hijacked by Jessica. She 'took over' the limo that Silla was in, only stopping long enough to ensure the box was passed my way. The guards passed it to me before being redirected back into the City of Tomorrow.

"They probably won't be out for a couple of hours," I said as I looked at the wooden box. Opened, it contained a hand-length furred foreleg with a number of barbs sticking out. The base of the limb had a small cap of orichalcum, with a fine chain of the same. I showed it to Nessi, but she didn't say anything. With a grunt of dismissal, I stored the box into my hammer-space.

"So... What now?" The hanger-sized room we were in served as a garage. It had vehicles of many different makes and models, most of them high-end versions of the local Earth's civilian markets. None of them were 'standard,' with even the most basic disguise models clandestinely stuffed with Tinker-tech, magical enchantments and magitech. None of them would broadcast such abilities, instead appearing - and reading as - the most basic, mundane and registered versions on the planet.

She looked at me, bronzed form catching the light.

"How about we make a dinner for everybody?" She asked me, heading towards the end of the room.

"Great idea," I replied, following her. "It should use up the hours until the shadowrunners get here. Any preferences, Nessi?"

"Italian," she said. "We haven't had it in a while..."

We continued to discuss the finer details of fine cuisine all the way to the kitchen.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Evening.

I walked into the waiting room to see everyone was here already. The same arrangement as yesterday, with a large, ground-level, booth style, u-shaped couch and a chair for myself and Jessica on the other side. The room was otherwise bland, holding only some wire frame 'portal' systems, lighting and few other details.

"Hello everybody," I said, sliding into my seat. I gave a nod to Jess, who returned it, before I focused back on the group. "How are you all doing?"

General words of greeting and emotional states were sent my way. I had a smile on and checked each person as they brought themselves forward. One of the strangest things was that everyone was wearing either black or near black clothing. Winterhawk, previously dressed in a very stylistic gentleman magician getup yesterday, had the same arrangement with all the colours darkened to the point of being nearly black. Suits of the same colour were on Quietus, Ma'fan and Kia, while Cayman and Kellan were dressed in armour styled as clothing, or perhaps the other way around.

"Pardon," I interrupted the casual chatter, "but can somebody tell me why you are all dressed alike?"

They clammed up quick, with Kellan signalling Kia to speak.

"Mr. Umbrella," he began, and looked at me straight in the eyes. "Over the course of the day, and especially after the fallout generated from the will reading, we all talked among each other and decided to join up."

"Oh." My jaw fell in sudden surprise. I raised my hand as if to start a topic a number of times, but let it drop each occurrence. Finally, I looked at Jess. "Help me out here, please."

She leaned near me and spoke quietly. "This is good news. You can condense the week into today. Ask about the 'fallout' from the will."

"Right," I thanked her, and turned back to the assembled group. "My apologies, that was rather sudden and unexpected. I had a rather full week planned for you all, with each step building on the previous, getting more and more impressive each one." I let out a rather long, drawn out sigh. "I'm having to completely reboot my plans here. I'm not upset, just surprised." I faced the red-topped talker. "Kia, could you expand on what you meant by 'fallout,' please?"

"Of course, Mr. Umbrella." He did a slow pan around the group before coming back to me. His hands silently drummed on the table as he spoke. "There are different levels to the waves that director Silla Trebheart, of the Umbrella Import Group, made." Kia shook his head in admiration, wide smile on his face. "First of all, both the person and the corporation exist, perfectly. According to digital records from nearly every archive the world over, they have been around for over five years, keeping to the shadows. The only problem is that nobody knows about them. Not one single person on earth can tell you about their personal history. Searches? Absolutely." Kia invited Cayman to speak.

"Yeah, Kia has the right of it." The big guy nodded at the pistol expert before focusing on me. "We all collaborated on different sources of intelligence. Mine was the guards and security forces that worked at the Watergate Hotel. Some official back-talk among among them involved the 'mystery guests' of the Umbrella Group. They were greatly impressed when the guards showed up in quarter-million nuyen custom sports cars." He coughed, then looked embarrassed. "I then saw that I could get one for myself, and I was in a state of shock for a while." Kellan nudged him, as Cayman seemed to have actually done such in remembrance. "Online sources had zero pictures or digital records of them - the only way to find out the info was from personally spoken recollections. It was like they were invisible to all forms of electronic security. I even tested it my self, by attempting to anonymously post a message about my experience here yesterday. Before I finished my second sentence, it was self-deleting from the first letter. Once it finished, a message briefly popped up saying 'please just ask Rainbow Umbrella, Cayman' and signed it with a 'N.'"

Almost as one, all of the shadowrunners turned to look at me. I knew what they wanted to know, but I intended to make them work for it - at least by asking the question.

"So, Mr. Umbrella," Kia drawled out, "now that we are no holds barred in with you, could you say who this 'N' is?"

"Hold on there, Kia," I replied. "It is all well and good that you - all of you - say that, but it is now my time to see if you know what that means. Since you seem so gung-ho about joining, I'll show you the contract details."

He slumped in minor disappointment, but a light smile remained on his face.

A robotic trolley came in through a side door in under a minute, stopping by me with two beeps. I reached inside the newly opened middle section of the square shaped device and pulled out a set of six leather folios. They were placed on the table center as before. Each of the six took a copy and started to examine it. No comments were made, but some shocked sounds of surprise were common.

Eventually, all six had closed and put down their folios. Kellan again indicated that Kia should speak and he complied.

"Nothing has changed on our end, Mr. Umbrella." He tapped his fingers on the folio, this time slightly audibly. "However, then as now - more now then before - we'd like to know why we're being offered such a great deal."

I let out another long sigh, mentally preparing myself to go over my life story yet again. I don't know what details would have to be held back or would change their world views about me.

"Alternatively, you could just stay silent about it," Kia said. "It's not a big deal. Not with these kind of incentives, anyways." Another series of taps were done on the folio.

Huh, I thought to myself. I can actually do that? NOT tell people some long, involved story in order to convince them to go along with things? Wow.

"You know, Kia," I said, "I was getting all worked up there for a moment, and then you just awed me with your professionalism. Thank you." I gave him a sincere nod of approval, which he returned with a smile. "I'll just say that it is a rather long story and it will likely come out in time, without needing prompts. Are there any less wide-ranging questions you wanted answered?" I asked it of him, but I also looked over the entire group. I get that he acted as the official spokesman, but I don't know if he has all the questions either.

He nodded and spoke again. "Yes, actually. We are a pretty diverse group right here. Not racially, mind you - it does seem rather human centric, with the exception of Mutus..."

I held up a hand to interrupt him.

"Mutus?" I asked.

He gestured to the elven woman now formally known as Quietus, and I nodded in understanding. Another gesture signaled him to continue.

"We're hoping that your organization is not a racially supremest one -" I shook my head in the negative, and he relaxed slightly "- but we are curious as to why we were gathered from around the globe."

"Sure," I replied, as I settled back into my deep, large black leather chair. "That one is a lot easier to answer. Simply put, you all were put together first with your personalities in mind and then the skill sets needed. I trust that I don't need to explain why there is no need for a decker or rigger among your group?"

Kia made some sounds of denial, while the others echoed like terms.

"Good," I continued. "In order, each of you had qualities that personally drew me to want to include you, as well as offered me an opportunity to be of great benefit. Now, not to be too much of a stickler for my own customs, I have a request of each of you." No one spoke. All their attention was focused on me. "Specifically, I'm asking you to formally request of me to help you solve your problems, help you with your issues and so on. It doesn't have to be spoken, but it does need to be comprehensive. Please include events over the entire course of your life. While I might offer this opportunity again in the future..." I shrugged, holding my shoulders up for an extended period of time. "Think of it as an unlimited wish opportunity to a genie, but who has the right of refusal and selection." I smiled at the group, and laced my fingers together.

"There should be pens inside the folios," I said, "as well as blank lined pages at the end."

Almost as one, they reopened the leather document holders and got to writing.

I'm actually fine with being introduced, head-mate, Nessi thought into our shared mindspace. Omnipotent AI and all that good stuff. They can call me 'Ops N.'

Alright, thanks, I replied. What about their access and use to your capabilities?

I'll talk to them on a case by case basis. They can request things - I can deny them, or not, dependent on situational factors.

I sent her the sensation of a smile which she returned in kind.

"Please continue writing if there is anything left," I began. "I'll just bring up a few topics. First thing, in regards to 'N,' she is a most esteemed and beloved companion of myself, as well as a nigh godlike artificial intelligence." Some of them made sounds of agreement, as if they had already guessed that. Considering the capacities that she has displayed so far, it was either that or... I don't know, an alien or something.

"Her capacities and abilities will be made accessible to you all," I continued, "but she will have personal discretion in regards to what she is willing to do on a case by case basis. In order to draw her attention, please just use the name 'Ops N' near, on, or with any form of electronic equipment, including externally locked pieces and your own head-ware, as appropriate." The only real sign of their surprise was a momentary lapse in the sounds of writing, which resumed shortly afterwards. "Make sure that you treat her better than myself."

"Now, I'm going to be going through each of you, hitting the highlights," I said, as I focused on Cayman to start with. "The big guy here is the peak example of reliable, tenacious, and fearless. He'll have your back and likely even carry two of you unconscious to an evac point if needed. More than that, he'll bring the big guns and he has a keen mind in regards to information sourcing."

Let me know before I say something in regards to you if it is off, okay Nessi?

She agreed with me via the mental impression of a nod.

"Cayman," I continued, "you have unrestricted access to Ops N in regards to intelligence. Please use it for data sourcing, verification or whatever other aligned purposes you or your group may have. Kia will have the same access."

An unspoken 'uh huh' was my response.

"Kellan then," I began, "is to be the team leader. Regardless of her past highs and lows, I am fascinated by the potential of what someone like her can do who has near unlimited backup and support. She keeps her word, doesn't lie and builds genuine friendships out of her teams - all things I want to foster here. Regardless of her being the lead, she has had a past focus in shadowruns that I expect to be broadened shortly and complimented by the respective skills of Cayman and Ma'fan."

She looked up, caught my eyes, nodded and returned to her paper.

"She is granted access to Ops N in regards to all of her preexisting specialities. Consider her an amazing reference library, on call at any time."

I next focused on Ma'fan. She seemed unused to a suit, however well tailored, but was at ease sitting beside Mutus.

"Ma'fan," I continued, "was a long call that I'm glad paid off. Between the highest profile cat burglars in the business, I had a preference for the one based in magic and I'm happy you are here. The philosophies of silence, invisibility, perfect knock-outs and great planning will provide for scouting and her own specialties as needed."

"A point of notice for yourself, Ma'fan, and everybody else - please don't go acquiring or doing things merely for nuyen. There is tons of buying power now available for you all, and contacts, artifacts, trades and favours have much more worth then sheer cash. I'd even prefer that you kept things instead of fencing them." I went through a few breaths in silence, as I thought about what else to elaborate on. "You will also have access to Ops N in regards to your specialities."

"As an added bonus, you are all free to go on your own designed shadowruns as well as take runs from other fixers. Ops N will inform you of any complications or changes, but we have proved to be adaptable to most everything."

"Mr. Umbrella?" Kia asked me, as he put his pen down onto his open folio. "That is rather unusual. I could understand on a case by case basis, but..." He looked at me inquiringly.

"Well, Kia," I replied, "our assets and infrastructure will be known to you if they ever come up. Ops N can settle details if absolutely required, making it so you were never hired by counter-forces in the first place. I want you to come across as having my patronage and backing more than working directly for me. This will allow you to get more leeway from other contacts and I encourage and request that you make such a high priority."

"Understood," he said, returning to writing.

They certainly are putting down a lot of things, I thought. At least I'll have a nice boon list to draw from.

"And the popular fixer of the entertainment industry in Southeast Asia himself, Kia." He held a hand up in recognition but remained silent otherwise. "He has an ethical system of co-existence, being careful about decisions and removing those people whose absence would bring a net good to the world. He is also idealistic, believes in right and wrong, reliable, straightforward, and knows how to get a job done. At the same time he knows the ways a run can get screwed up and uses that information as a way to make it succeed instead. Kia is also an ace pistol marksman, and will likely get more of an opportunity to do such in the future."

"Then there is Mutus," I said, directing my gaze at the Quietus model version two. She was the sole person who had stopped writing by this point. "Trained as an assassin, Mutus was neither a glory hound or a thrill seeker, instead being an idealist of the non-psychotic variety. Her personal code of honour, along with her absolute adherence to it, was the reason that I went so far as to resurrect her. I also had her standards in mind when I aimed to recruit all of you. As it will become unimaginably easy to mow down many people without a thought, Mutus can provide the highest, strictest standard to adhere to." The others had looked up at this point. "I'll go so far as say that Mutus' code is standard operating procedure for your grouped runs, but will have Ops N provide proof of borderline cases in case your group needs to sway you."

The elf nodded, the front bangs of her dyed blue hair shifting with the motion.

"Now, before the rest of your team goes crazy, could you please explain what your personal code actually is?"

"Certainly." She cleared her throat, and began to talk. "The first one is to never kill an innocent. In this case, 'innocent' means anyone who is not my target or directly defending the target. I've never killed an innocent in the course of my job, and that's a record I'm very proud of."

Mutus started to explain her 'code of the honourable killer' to her team mates as they listened with half an ear, and threw out the odd question.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thursday, August 16th, 2057 (SR) - Sanctum

"Nadja was very friendly after we talked for a while," Silla said, handing me some dishes. I placed them in the dishwasher, closing it. "There was the various levels of expected apprehension due to how our video-based communication went over her closed network, but..." She shrugged, and returned to the table. Jess snagged a small kiss from her on the way, and their hands drifted over each other lightly. "Once I had explained how closely we intended to work with and support the Draco Foundation, she was much more amenable. There were some feelers sent my way about sub-contracting our services, but I left it open ended at the time." Silla looked at me questioningly, her silk pajamas matching that of her partners.

"That's great, Silla," I replied, already settled at the kitchen table again. "Please keep ahead of her in intelligence via Nessi and the odd use of a disposable time-line. How about future inheritances? Has the way been paved for a mass of them?"

"A number of them, yes," she said, her one visible hand resting on the surface of the dark wood table. "The great dragon, Hestaby, has also offered to match the reward amounts for a number of environmentally related items on the will." Silla shrugged, and focused on me intently. "If money really isn't an issue, we can probably get in good with her via some inventive 'donations.'" Her face fell and she spoke hesitantly, "there might even be some possibilities for her to help with Aban...?"

I sighed before replying, and shared a brief glance with Nessi. "I've already got an idea in regards to that," I said. "Best done in a disposable, but... The Shroud of Shadows enforces emotional calmness over anything it is draped on. We're hoping it will at least be a good start." Ziz's white wings fluffed me briefly, and I looked back at her with a smile before returning my focus to Silla. "Anything else?" She shook her head. "Alright then, please go get dressed then, layabouts!"

Jessica and Silla both left the table with a laugh. I'd expect that their 'getting dressed' might take an inordinately long time.

"Nessi," I began, turning to my beloved gynoid companion, "what is our financial situation, anyways?"

She made some indecisive noises as if to suggest she didn't know before replying. "Most excellent," she said. "We are holding on to tapping the assets from the three lairs of the big D, plus I'm continuously shuffling stocks in the background and putting false titles in front of them. The end result would be our ownership of corporate shares that only pay out a small percentage, with the rest going to the unknowing prior stockholder. Continue that for long enough and we can have the majority in any corp without anyone realizing it. The inventorying of blood and toxic magic practitioners is also doing well, with a few hundred of each already found world-wide."

"Great," I said, squeezing her nearest bronze-coloured hand in appreciation.

"Taylor?" I asked, turning to the unusually individual form of the long-haired brunette. "How are you doing?"

She let out a long sigh before replying. "Busy, tired, over-worked and stressed." Taylor buried her head in her hands and groaned, lightly, elbows on the table.

Nessi gave me a light push and stood up to leave, while Ziz was already heading out. I got the hint and moved over to Taylor's side, and sat beside her.

"Hey," I said, giving her a friendly shoulder bump with my own. She did the same back, but was otherwise quiet.

"Crazy bugs," Taylor eventually spoke under her breath, not elaborating on those two words. They had a rather loaded history between us, after all.

"Can you tell me about it, Tay?" I asked her, pulling her into a sort of half-hug. She went along with the movements.

"This world... These bugs... Are absolutely fucked up. I originally thought that this planet would just have some strange, magical bugs - and I was right, for a while." She shifted her arms and leaned into me further. "Basic creatures, nothing compared to the planes, such as abrams lobsters, ghede flies, jauchekafer beetles, nova scorpions, rockworms, siberian bees, spider-beasts, wyrd mantids and more. Then... Bug spirits enter the picture and things get much, much more complicated and down-right horrifying."

I remained silent.

"The worst thing is that people summon these things. It's like nobody realizes or truly ever cares that their very soul is at risk of being utterly destroyed. It wouldn't be a big deal if these monsters were just mindless predators. They are worse than that." She took some deep breaths to calm down. "I've seen their hive-world in their memories - a massive thing, perhaps even larger than the Dyson sphere, it's entire interior filled with countless swarms of these beings. Only one word really comes up when the bugs describe their home-world."

"Crowded." She fell silent again. With an impulsive act, I picked her up, bridal style, and walked out of the kitchen. The automatic sliding doors moved out of the way in silence. Less than a minute of walking resettled us against the wall of the main lounge with the assistance of a number of cushions.

"Hey Tay," I said quietly, once we were comfortable again. "I get that you are trying to look at the overall, super-massive picture here. That's amazing, congratulations. But... I'd like you to focus on the smaller details for now." I shifted us around so that I could look at her face from the distance of a few inches. "What I mean is that irregardless of anything out there, what do you absolutely want to for yourself right now?"

Her eyes focused on my own, she froze. After she bit her lip, I watched as a blush formed in her cheeks. With a cough, I turned my head to the side and she let out a brief laugh.

"Let's just say in regards to the crazy bugs only, alright Tay?" I asked her with an attempt at being serious, and returned my face to being close to hers.

"That makes things simpler, then, Mike," she replied, and used the adjusting of her long, brown hair to cover the fading of her reddened cheeks. "I want them all one or more of dead, gone, under my control, either sterile or breeding without harming souls, and some means to slow or block their summoning to this world."

"Excellent," I responded. "I'm guessing you already have some answers to those issues locked up in that head of yours. Let's see if we can get them to come out, alright?"

She favoured me with a large, genuine smile. It was the first I saw from her since she went out into the Shadowrun world a few days ago.

"Well," she started talking, and leaned into the crook of my arm, "keep in mind that I've started integrating powers from the formian queen - she was the one with a fifty mile telepathic range, remember?" I made some affirmative noises, noticeably awed at how far she has come. "I'm somewhere between five and ten miles at the moment, but it seems be slowly but steadily increasing every day. It is less impressive when you consider that I can't make proper relay bugs until it stops changing, so that will take a while..."

We talked about insect armies and practical racial genocide for hours.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Evening.

The shadowrunners had just recently came back from a tour of their on-base suites, escorted by Silla. They had settled down in the now familiar u-shaped couch, with Jess and myself yet again on our outer, separate chairs. Thankfully, they had all opted into more reasonable sets of clothing than the near-uniform set of styles present yesterday.

"All of our cover stories are set, Mr. Umbrella," Kia said, proudly displaying his more sensible suit. "Ops N is taking over my fixing duties in south east Asia, while Ma'fan and Winterhawk are the only two that opted to keep old ties active. Cayman and Kellan prefer their histories wiped, and Mutus doesn't have anything, so..." He shrugged.

"Right," I replied, glancing at the portal wire-frames then back at the group. "Have you decided which location is going to be your one primary portal go-to spot?"

Kia looked back at his group from the edge position he sat on, then back to me. "It is still iffy. We should finalize it in a few days, but can force the issue now if we have to," he said, and looked at me in inquiry.

I waved it off. "By the time you come back from your first job is fine," I said, pulling out a thin stack of photos from inside my multi-coloured blazer. They were placed on the table and everyone picked up a copy.

Cayman showed it to me. "The will?" He asked, I nodded in response and he made an affirmative grunt.

"There is not much details here," I said, and panned across the group. Everybody had already set the picture down and were looking at me. "But that is where Ops N comes in. She has done the main, pure information gathering already - the location, the people, the timing and where the body is buried. It should be newly placed on the same computer pad you use to access the Catalogue." I waited while they pulled it out of various pockets and carry-ons.

"The ultimate client in this situation can be considered the Draco Foundation, but Silla is to be the go-between," I addressed them. "The job of all of you is to acquire the physical evidence related to the crime - corpse of the victim, prints, DNA traces, clothes, weapons and so on - and get video recorded confessions of the act along with as many other crimes they have committed as possible, from each of the five. Once you have an air-tight set of documentations, the full set are to be dropped off at one or more official authority sources that are willing to give you receipt of them, and..." I kept silent, and looked each of them in the eyes. "And have a reputation of 'lethal accidents' for human supremacists, especially those that kill metahumans. Stay to confirm their deaths with further documentation, and report back here with all that you have collected. Ensure that any place you drop them off to does not connect them to the photo. Any questions?"

While that request of mine was open ended to the group, I was more focused on Mutus. She was the 'yellow canary in the mine-shaft' of the team, and if she objected to even this level of lethal punitive action, I wouldn't know what to do.

She shook her head in the negative, blue bangs crossing over her pointed ears, and I relaxed.

"Preferred completion time for all this, Mr. Umbrella?" Kia asked me.

"Two weeks hard limit, one week soft, three to four days ideally," I replied, and he nodded and went back to his computer pad. "Another thing - active electronic invisibility will not be used for this run, but you can all audit your traces afterwards to confirm what you want and do not want to remain existent. Anything else?"

They looked at each other and nobody spoke up. That was it, then.

"Just a reminder - Ops N is everywhere, but I'm not. Kia was alright with me doing live remote taps to his audio-visual setup, but I have no need to see - or hear - everything. Use your discretion and preferences, and if you don't want me to know something, just say so." I looked at Ma'fan and Mutus as a prime example of such, giving them a brief nod. "I'll follow Ops N and your own recommendations in such a case."

I indicated Silla with a gesture. She had come in while I was talking. "The director here, Silla Trebheart, will show you to the armory and the vehicle hanger. We've already designed and deployed a rather impressive custom vehicle for you all, but you are free to pick a more conventional one instead."

"Have a good run."

They filed past Jessica and myself, and soon after we were alone again.

"What do you think, Jess?" I asked her, as I paid only minor attention to her now custom-fitted, designer-grade suit.

"They will do fine, Sanctum," she replied. "We're handing them more resources than they are used to, so the real question would be how effectively they will use, rely on or even trust those very resources."

"Very true," I agreed. "And by Sigil?"

"Business as usual. Some stalled and long-term projects that we're ultimately hoping Greyface can help with, assuming his own quest goes fine." Jess shrugged, her brunette hair following the motion. "Since Ziz hasn't indicated anything otherwise, we just need to wait and see."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sunday, August 19th, 2057 - 4:25 PM (SR) - Shadowmech Van, outside Yoshiro's Restaurant and Bar, Seattle metroplex, UCAS - POV Kia

"Alright Kia," Kellan said from her side of the Shadowmech Van. She was wearing a black leather jacket and camo themed clothes. All armoured up, the best Mr. Umbrella could provide. "What is the story on our Mr. Johnson here? You were on the ball during our meet, right?"

"Absolutely, Kellan," I replied, and adjusted myself in my own seat. Done up in stainless steel interior, the cushions were designed to look shabby but at the same time not fall apart and feel perfectly comfortable. They were modular, too, in case something more dressy was required. "Ops N was cool with it. The chubby guy's real name is Pietr Flegeton, and goes by Topal. He used to run The Guiding Hand, a talismonger and lore shop in the Redmond District. Three days ago, a friend of his by the name of Simon Templeman showed up with a suitcase handcuffed to his wrist."

I took a dramatic pause, breathed. Kellan seems to be the only one really paying attention. Cayman was focused on his weaponry, Ma'fan and Mutus on each other, and Winterhawk was reading something on our company supplied computer pad. The security on the van was tough enough that we could relax in here, with plastic explosives and more not even being able to scratch the paint.

Fine, I thought. Let's see if we can bat this out into the stands.

"Both of them are members of the Children of Sophocies, a small time mystical fellowship." Winterhawk made a sound of agreement, and Kellan glanced at him briefly before she refocused on me. "However, Simon is dead now. Less than half a day later he was in the coroner's office, with a cause of death being attributed to natural causes. The report stated that he looked to be in his late sixties, instead of Simon's official age of forty two. The night after his friend died, Topal's shop burnt down. The coming day he was frantic, making lots of calls to contacts to get a buyer - a buyer for an arcane idol."

Winterhawk looked up at the mention, suddenly interested. "Were any descriptions made of it, Kia? I can check if it is already on file." He held up the computer pad as a reference. He had already moved the Catalogue to the bare-bones section on magical artifacts.

A quick glance to Kellan supplied me with a shrug, so I went ahead. I had planned on doing that anyways.

"First of all, the very box it was in was described as 'oddly carved wooden box with a notched cover.' Inside was the idol, an object of about thirty centimeters long and carved from deep-red stone into a demon-like shape. It's hands held a pinkish globe and it's eyes glowed."

"Anyone taking odds on the idol not being an object of evil power?" Cayman asked nobody in particular, still focused on going over his assault cannon. Along the same lines, nobody bothered to answer him.

"It's not available," Winterhawk said, tapping on the computer pad. His black fingerless gloves didn't seem to impede the movement at all. "Your call, Kellan. We have a Mr. Johnson, but... We also have a Mr. Umbrella." He gave her a light smile and a raised eyebrow before returning to his reading, not concerned with the decision. After all, Kellan would be the one to make it - and take the fall if it was a screw up. Considering that those five racist bastards were 'accidentally' killed by lawful authorities just yesterday - earlier than even the ideal time Mr. Umbrella mentioned - nobody here wanted to mess things up, whatever leeway we were granted. This is a fucking dream job, and everybody realizes it, no matter how relaxed they are.

"We still have some hours to work with, Winterhawk," Kellan said, half turning her head to address him. He only made a sound of agreement, otherwise disinterested. "What else do you have for me, Kia?"

"Oh, plenty." I favoured Kellan with a wide smile and ran a hand over my spiked red hair. "Topal's frantic search hit pay dirt, and a batch of elven scholars are on the way to the meet - that is where we'll end up going. It is planned for four AM, an hour past when we are supposed to meet him." I shrugged my shoulders, and adjusted the weight of my Ares Predator model infinity. The small time I spent at the shooting range using it had really amazed me. "The thing is, his search was anything but discrete. Apparently the entire nation of Tir Taimgire knows about this little idol, and one elven lord had the great idea to hire a wetworks team led by the hitman Blackwing to retrieve it."

"Scholars are dead," Cayman said, again to nobody in particular.

"Yeah," I nodded at the big guy, "Cayman is probably right. If we are incredibly lucky, it is possible that they haven't been hit yet. However, things get even worse."

"Not surprised," Cayman said, again adding his commentary to the proceedings.

I forced back a laugh before continuing. "Captain Grissim in Lone Star here has a major hard on for Blackwing. He wants the assassin badly due to some past embarrassment. Since Lone Star hasn't scrambled around in response yet, it is possible that either Blackwing did a perfect set of quiet kills - as expected - or the elven scholars are sitting somewhere, nice and safe. On top of that, when you consider what Topal looks like right now, compared to security pictures of him even a week ago, he is fading fast. Could drop dead with a small push, even."

Kellan leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Winterhawk?" She asked the still-reading mage.

"Yes, Kellan?"

"The scanning system from Umbrella work out fine?"

"Indeed," he replied, and gestured to the back of the open space. "Already tested, approved and everything else."

Kellan nodded, and reoriented herself to the pair of Mutus and Ma'fan. "Trackers placed on Tabot's vehicle?" Mutus answered with a nod to her, then returned her focus to the cat burglar.

"Kia," Kellan asked with a faint sense of optimism, "do we have the location of Blackwing's current base of operations?"

My only answer was a really big smile, which she replied to with one of her own.

"Alright, people," Kellan spoke loudly, "We're moving out. Next stop..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sunday, August 19th, 2057 - 4:55 PM (SR) - Generic urban slums, Seattle metroplex, UCAS

[G-Kellan: Call it in.]

We were all running silent, deployed around the low level apartment building Blackwing was supposed to be in. I was one of the spotters at ground level, mostly hidden in the shaded entranceway of an adjacent building.

[G-Kia: I'm clear, no movement. Sights are good.]

We have had minimal use of the private chat network, but were reassured that it was capable of keeping us in linked communication over the entire area of the globe, and was furthermore completely undetectable. You can not buy this kind of awesome shit anywhere, I kid you not. The others reported in after me. Everyone was on their own form of oversight except Ma'fan. She had the job of scouting out the place, ensuring that the hit squad was there - including Blackwing, most especially - and reporting back. After that, we'd make our moves.

[G-Ma'fan: Job complete, three of them are inside, including Blackwing. I also rigged a remote knock-out gas system there, courtesy of Mutus. We can storm in, or... Try the easy way.]

There was silence for a few seconds.

[G-Kellan: Trigger it at my mark. We'll wait a half minute for any reaction. Do you have visual on the room exits?]

[G-Ma'fan: Yes, only one though - the interior door, leading to the hallway.]

I adjusted my posture, taking another look around. Nothing really happening. I ensured my pistol was still accessible, regardless.

[G-Kellan: Mutus, do you have line-of-sight on the exterior marked room's windows?]

[G-Mutus: Hold on... I do now. Resettling... Done.]

[G-Kellan: Mark.]

There was a brief poofing sound, like someone had exhaled their breath rapidly, then... Nothing. No cries of alarm, no sudden movements or explosions.

Sweet! Home run!, I thought.

I don't make any obvious moves, but relaxed anyways. Ma'fan and Mutus reported all clear, and I did the same. The others did so as well.

[G-Kellan: Kia, Cayman, Winterhawk, meet inside the front of the building and go to the room to secure them. Ma'fan, Winterhawk, make sure any extra curious people fall asleep.]

A series of acknowledgements followed. I stepped out of the entrance way onto the sidewalk and glanced around casually. No activity. I walked up the half-block to the apartment building and stepped inside the front door as if I owned the place. Cayman and Winterhawk were already inside.

"I'm on point," the big guy said. The dressy mage and me looked at each other. Neither of us were going to dispute that.

He led the way up the stairs and we followed up the three flights necessary. There might have been a head or two stuck out, but one sight of our walking man-tank made them pull it back in again rather quickly.

Room three-oh-five, the nameplate read. The hallway was clear, and Cayman opened the door with a sudden twist of his arm and a shoulder check. I popped in beside him, pistol ready.

It wasn't needed. There, scattered at different places in the sparsely furnished studio style apartment, were the three comatose forms of the hit squad. I re-holstered my weapon and called it in.

[G-Kia: We're golden. All three are out cold.]

Kellan told us to disarm and bring them to the van. With a shrug to the other two guys on the team, I pulled out some plastic cuffs.

Time to earn our pay.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sunday, August 19th, 2057 - 6:47 PM (SR) - Shadowmech Van, Some other generic slums, Seattle metroplex, UCAS

I pulled the last of the three goons out of the 'scanning device.' Ops N had informed us that it is also a useful method of getting any intelligence from captive 'guests,' so Kellan and Winterhawk had saved their magic for something else. Not that they needed to, with the boosts provided by the corp, but if they could relax - why not.

"That's all of them, then," I said, and stacked Harper next to Tundra and Blackwing. All of them had black bags over their heads, with their arms and legs criss-crossed with masses of plastic cuffs. None of them had any form of exceptional strength, but we'd rather be safe then sorry.

I rubbed my hands together, unused to the feeling of these thin leather gloves. One more caution to take - the elimination of genetic traces. Even that was overkill, as Mr. Umbrella had said one of our shared 'upgrades' was quick dissolving genetic traces and fingerprints, with the same thing in regards to our astral presences.

Kellan had made a good call earlier, having us head straight to the hit squad. Ops N had alerted us of Lone Star discovering the slain elven scholars in the past hour, and they were likely to be on full alert.

"Good work, everyone," Kellan said, twisting around in her seat to face the rest of us. I made my way to one of the free spaces and sat down.

"Since the scholars are dead and the wetwork squad is ours, I'm personally not wanting to drag this on any longer. Any disagreements?" None were said. "Great. Now, how about we go pay our Mr. Johnson a visit."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sunday, August 19th, 2057 - 8:10 PM (SR) - Shadowmech Van, Yet some other completely different generic slums, Seattle metroplex, UCAS

Topal looked in really bad shape. More so when he was shown the three bagged figures on the floor of the van.

"You... They..." He wheezed, almost ready to collapse from exertion.

I could guess his chain of thought. He is likely assuming that we kidnapped the elven scholars and betrayed him, possibly even planning to kill him.

"Relax, Mr. Johnson," I said, and gave him what space we could inside here. "These three are an assassination squad that were planning on killing you and taking the item. They already killed the elven scholars and planned to ambush you - and us - at the site of your coming meet. The four AM trade at Black's Junk Yard, right?"

Tobal visibly relaxed with my words, then as the significance of it sunk in, he started to panic again.

"Now, you can probably confirm things by trying to contact them, but we have an easier solution for you." He grabbed a jawbreaker from inside the folds of his coat and quickly started to chew on it. It seemed to calm him down. "Seeing as how the head assassin here has diplomatic immunity, we were going to drop them off at Lone Star. As far as yourself goes, we know of another buyer for the item - whose details have been scattered all over the elven nation - and who will also be able to heal you of any adverse effects... If you happen to have any, of course."

The chubby man's worn face seemed to fall in defeat. "I don't have much choice, do I?"

"You always have a choice, Mr. Johnson," I replied with a smile. "We're just trying to go over and beyond what you asked for, and hope that you share that good news among your associates."

"Fine," he sighed, slumping against the back of his chair. "Do it. Sure." He finished his current jawbreaker and reached for another.

"Glad to hear it, Mr. Johnson." I signaled Kellan and we started to drive off.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sunday, August 19th, 2057 - 8:32 PM (SR) - Sanctum, as accessed via the Seattle metroplex, UCAS

"How do you feel now, Mr. Johnson?" Silla, the lethally hot and engaged director of Umbrella Import Group, asked Tobal with a smile. He returned it with a weak, but genuine, one of his own.

"Very good, thank you," he stammered, obviously impressed in more than one respect. "Is there anything else I could do or...?"

"Just direct all your appreciation towards the people that brought you here and I'll be more than happy, thank you," she said. When nothing more was forthcoming from the chubby little man, she waved at him and pointed towards us.

With a resigned sigh, he turned back towards me. The others had already loaded up into the van, and I was just waiting for Topal to finish off. The 'ammo resupply box' had already been brought aboard earlier. He stepped up with one last look at Silla, and entered the vehicle. I followed him.

Another milk run to wrap up.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Append to Sanctum's Notepad:

- Yet ONE MORE indestructible, demonic idol that draws power from somewhere other than the astral. Very interesting. I'll keep it in storage for now, perhaps behind a few bazillion wards. Stasis as well, even though the connection is only active when I let it.

- Still need to try out a copied Shroud of Shadows on myself, see if Aban can be talked to that way.

- Should we empty out those three lairs of big D? Hmm...

- I wonder who that elven lord is and what we can do to him...

1.4 - "There Can Be Only..."

Thursday, August 23rd, 2057 (Shadowrun calendar)

"This is DJ Darco Smooth! I'm coming at you live from somewhere else! Oh yeah! I'm greeting all you fine folk - every single metahuman and sapient of any form. That's right, folks! If you have two brain cells to rub together and can hear me speaking this overblown variant of American English, it does NOT MATTER to me who and what you are. I'm capable of being heard anywhere from pole to pole, coast to coast. Inside your arcologies and up in space! Everywhere... Everywhere... Everywhere!"

"Scared yet? Don't be! Unless you have some naughty, naughty secrets to hide. Nobody on this wide planet and beyond it have anything like that, right? Of course not. You're a bastion of goodness and decency. Let me prove it by airing some laundry that could better see the light of day."

"First things first, what is up with the Umbrella Import Gro-"

--STATIC--

"- and isn't that amazing? I bet nobody knew that, either!"

"Let's rewind a few years now. A bit earlier in the 2050's, some bad shit happened. Not like it stops happening, but... No, I won't get sidetracked."

"Anyways! Some schmuck released some spirits in a mystically sealed cave in the outback of Australia. One of those bad mojo evil spirits goes by the name of Twilight. This great form spider spirit contacted an spider insect shaman by the name of Eclipse in Seattle."

"Long story short, a bunch of shadowrunners, a band called the Elementals and Eclipse's personal security forces were all devoured in horrible agony. The spider shaman won and entered into a dandy little arrangement with Twilight. Doesn't that make you feel all warm and fuzzy, mister break-into-mystical-caves? Fuzzy like a spider? Crawling up your leg in the middle of the night? Injecting lethal toxin into your bloodstream already filled with stupid?"

"So those kids, the Elementals. They were composed of Whispering Wind, a beautiful young human woman, Wildfire, a down-to-earth elf, Bambi, a large friendly troll, and Coyote, an upstanding past member of the Ute Nation. A nice sampling of metahumanity, all working together to realize their dreams. All dead, rotting corpses on the ground that never even got a proper burial."

"Now, for all you eager runners loading up your ammo to track down the spiders in shaman and spirit form - don't worry. They have already been picked up and picked clean, if you catch my meaning. All you bug-eyed bugs and intelligent insects better watch out, because the Queen Mother Empress of Insects herself is pissed the royal fuck off."

"If any of you fine folk want to spread some uncensored news, give me a call. All you have to do is speak into live static and say my name, DJ Darco Smooth, three times. If I'm live, you might get lucky and reach me. You might get unlucky... And reach me. Or... You can just leave a message, at the beep bloody beep."

"I look forward to your calls and spreading the news, in my own fantastic flavours of truth, humour and pain."

"This is DJ Darco Smooth signing off. And remember - I'm not bitter, I'm just single."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Same day, morning - Sanctum, proximate to Sigil entrance.

"What is this place, anyways?" Jess asked me as we walked down the hallway. It was relatively tall and wide, with a slowly shifting multi-hued carpet that ran the center length. It was well illuminated by wall mounted crystal half-spheres, and the ceiling was slightly domed.

I continued on for a few more steps before I replied.

"This is my personal little version of the Infinite Staircase, Jess." I gestured to the doors on either side of us as we passed them. "It could be considered a much lesser version of that grand back-door to this multiverse. Hence," I stopped in front of a door and looked at her, "The Limited Hallway."

The door's protective layers receded and opened with a thought, and we sort of squished together into the air-lock style cycle before coming out the other side. It was the side room I had last used with Greyface, mostly bare except for two tables and some comfortable chairs. A look back at the wall showed only the dim outlines of a door which soon faded.

"You recognize this room, I trust?" I asked her with a smile and she only replied with a huff, and sat down in one of the more comfortable chairs present.

I stepped out into the main room and took a moment to appreciate the charged atmosphere. Suplindh was perched upon an ornate metal bar chair that could be easily mistaken for a throne; Sebastion, a new hire from the Lower Ward, who was an interesting magic user, fixer and contract worker; two Beholder like creatures in opposite corners of the room, which were actually their more friendly racial cousins, Observers; about a dozen assorted beings from Sigil, some few of which were also contracted to the store; and, in their own clump, Greyface and his own group.

I gave him a wave which he returned, which drew the other's attention my way as well. Annah seemed to stop her self from making any overt actions, though I did see her tail moving. A tail which I did not focus on, of course.

He headed over my way while the group dispersed themselves around the storefront. The tiefling, Annah, ensured that she stayed the maximum possible distance between herself and the succubus, Fall-from-Grace, as often as possible.

I held the door open and he walked into the room, and gave another wave to Jessica.

"Greetings again," he said to her, but finished the sentence facing me. He looked roughed up, if the state of his mithril scale armour was any indication. Maybe some more scars or burn marks, but it was hard to separate them from the older ones on his grey skin.

Jessica and myself both returned his greetings, and we seated ourselves at by the small table as before.

"Hold a bit, Rainbow," he said, and stood up again. Some steps brought him over to the room side table and a few waves of his hand covered it with a dense layer of assorted items. He reseated himself with a grin in my direction, and pointed back at the table. "Just a few things I picked up."

"I can see that," I replied, as I checked out the stash. By the time I focused back on mister grey himself, the small table between us also had some few items on it. "The meaningful pieces?" He nodded in reply. I ignored them for now. "So, Greyface... It's been a while. What's happened? Any closer to your end goal?"

"Mostly yes, Rainbow," he said, as he leaned back into the large, black leather chair. "I met Ravel."

"And...?" I drawled out the word.

"I killed her," he sighed out. "Not right away, and not by my own choice, either." He closed his eyes, and tilted his head back on the chair. Greyface's thick, dread-lock-like hair followed the movement. He stayed silent, and went through some deep breaths. "It was going great, too. I piled on the charm, recovered some memories and received a name of somebody I needed to meet to keep moving forward." He opened his eyes enough to briefly squint at me. "You know, she was somehow also Mebbeth, Ei-vene and Marta. Mebbeth was the one who taught me magic, this time around, here in Sigil."

"Those other two were also in this city?" I asked him, and he replied in the positive. "Huh. What happened to their forms here, when...?"

"Mebbeth was the only one that remained," he replied. "Probably by virtue of her having some magic talent in that... Avatar? Alternative? I have no idea what would be the right thing to call her. But.." His eyes shot open and he leaned forward, and stared right at me. "While I was able to pick up some grisly souvenirs from Ravel rather easily after she died," he pointed to a long clump of grey hair and a rather disgusting dagger-like object, whose mottled green, red and black surface was almost a foot long, "it was only by a stroke of luck that I managed to obtain something from Mebbeth before she faded."

"I won't just yet take it out of my hammer-space, you understand," he continued, and I nodded in acknowledgement. "What I was wondering is whether you'd be able to resurrect Ravel, in her full power, into the form of... Mebbeth? When the very remains of the midwives' hair strands I grabbed was fading in my hands before I stored them?"

"That..." I held up a finger to start something, but it ended up being a signal of my own stupification. "That would be some rather impressive magic work. I could think up some ideas, but brute-forcing it through with power would take too much time..." I grinned, with the equivalent of a light bulb lighted over my head. "Unless, of course, I was capable of making endless duplicates of Mebbeth's hair before they faded out."

He raised his eyebrows and blinked. "You know, Rainbow," he began, and stared at me once more, "I was really expecting you to take longer than two sentences to figure out a way to do that."

I shrugged and made some dismissive noises while he laughed quietly.

"So! Greyface!" I exclaimed, with my energy returned, "what else happened there with Ravel?"

"Ah, the usual batch of plane shattering revelations, you know." He covered his overly long yawn with a free hand.

Jessica poked him on his forehead and he peered at her, whereupon she wagged a finger in his face. I commended such actions with silent applause.

"Alright, seriously then," he said. "In one of the forms demonstrated in the maze, she ripped out my guts, turning it into a magical bracelet of sorts," he pointed to the rubberized entrails which were oh-too-real, "explained the reason she was imprisoned was because she wanted to 'free' the Lady; how she made me immortal, which was by tearing out my mortality; how my first death caused me to lose the very memories and reasons for wanting to be immortal in the first place; that the next step was Curst, which I arrived to when I exited her place; and the name of the deva I was supposed to find there, who was called Trias. Better known as Trias the Betrayer, which I found out quite a ways afterwards."

"There were also some black-barbed themed items picked up from her maze," he said, pointing out some small blackened, stick like wands, bracelet like charms and prickly seeds.

That little black-barbed seed might find some use in the Greenery, I thought.

"Curst," he began, and sighed, "was rather underwhelming. The theme of traitors and treachery was everywhere, but I did my best not to add to it. Things only picked up once I went underground, to the prison level. There I found Trias, all trussed up and acting like a doomed martyr, along with a greater baatezu, Tek'elach, who informed me after some convincing that the Godsmen's Foundry here in Sigil has a high-end weapon his side is going to use in the Blood War."

"You're not talking about something that is easily portable, are you?" I asked him, and he shook his head. "Pity. Maybe later..."

"I would have tried talking to the prison guards about the sword of Trias they kept locked up, but they were too busy throwing themselves onto my knives. Some series of prison hallways led me to the center, where a jumped up monster named Cassius, with pretensions of delusion, kept on calling itself an 'amazing weapon' and so on."

"It died, then?" I asked him.

"Of course," he replied, and snorted. "The interesting thing about the tubby little lard monster was that its life-force was connected to a shield around the sword - it was capable of raising or lowering it by thought, and could potentially become an interesting door minder with a capable resurrecter...?"

"It's a pile of goo now, right?"

"Yep," he replied. "Messy, nasty pile of goo. I grabbed a bit before it was absorbed into the ground. Want it?"

"Ah..." I Conjured up a big jar onto the middle of the table, lid attached and hanging to the side. It was packed with some anti-magic and other containment measures, so it should be fine to keep the form in. "Sure!"

A stream of liquid slime and flesh poured from Greyface's hand and splashed into the jar. I closed it quick after he was done, and stored it in my own hammer-space.

"So," he continued, "I pulled the sword out and passed it back to Trias, who directed me to the Outlands by way of a portal..." Greyface stopped himself and stood up. "One more thing I almost forgot, Rainbow." He walked over to a free corner and had a look of focus on his face with his hand extended outwards. Moments later, an entire suit of armour appeared. "Fancy looking thing, isn't it?" He asked me, as he turned back with a grin. "I found it right behind the portal out."

I was more surprised than anything else that it was holding up like it was. The design was heavy on the spiked pauldrons, and it had elephant face, tusks included, styled knees. Rust red in appearance, it also held a substantially large axe in one hand. It's eyes glowed red.

"Were it's eyes glowing when you picked it up?" I asked Greyface, and pointed at the helmet head in question.

"No," he replied, as he backpedaled a few steps away from the now animated figure.

"I have AWAKENED," the suit of armour said, voice echoing as if it came from a far distance away.

Mister immortal looked at me, and I gestured towards the armour as if to indicate 'you brought it here, you deal with it!' He sagged and turned back to the now animate figure.

"Who are you?" He asked, as he went to stand an arms length away from the armour suit.

"I am VHAILOR."

"What are you?"

"I am MERCYKILLER."

I exchanged a look with Jess. I imagined we were thinking the same thing - is this guy for real?

"Mercykiller?" Greyface asked.

"Mercykillers serve JUSTICE. Justice PURGES evil," the suit spoke. "When ALL have been cleansed, the multiverse achieves PERFECTION."

Rather pretentious, I thought. Quite a number of assumptions inherent in those statements.

"Why are you called Mercykillers?"

"Mercy is a shield used by the WEAK. Mercy is WEAKNESS. Mercy is DEATH. NO ONE is innocent. Mercykillers slay mercy and it's WHORES wherever their plague has carried them."

"Rainbow," Jess whispered to me, after she leaned as close as possible from her chair, "we are not keeping that armoured freak, right?" I nodded in reply, and she sat back with a huff, arms crossed, as her fingers tapped on them.

"I disagree," Greyface said. "Mercy is strength - and there are times when even justice can be unjust, especially when carried to the extreme."

"MERCY eats at the heart of JUSTICE," Vhailor's voice echoed. "NO ONE that lives is INNOCENT."

"What defines justice, Vhailor? What is IT, really?"

"JUSTICE is defined by LAW."

"And what is law, Vhailor?"

"LAW is the tool by which JUSTICE is served."

"And what makes the laws, Vhailor?"

"LAW is defined by JUSTICE."

I buried my head in my hands and sighed. I think Jessica was doing her best to tune out the whole thing.

"That's a circular argument, Vhailor - it's meaningless. You say justice is defined by law, which is defined by justice."

"LAW IS defined by JUSTICE."

"Living men and wo..." Greyface started, but I scrambled out of my seat to stand beside him. Jessica hissed at me on the way, as perhaps she guessed at what I intended to do.

"Vhailor, you stand in a realm which I rule. A realm which IS me. Do you recognize my LAWS, MERCYKILLER? Or do you REJECT them?"

"I serve JUSTICE through LAWS."

"Yes, JUSTICE," I replied, with a glance at Greyface. "Would you serve the JUSTICE of my LAWS, or the ones YOU have? Would you REJECT the LAWS of the land you stand on?"

"VHAILOR serves LAW. What are your LAWS, ruler of this land?"

Hmm. I don't actually have any, I thought. Instead of saying anything, I stashed him into my own hammer-space. A second later a cushion impacted into my head and I flinched. A look back showed Jess, rather irritated.

"Sorry, Jess," I said, tapping Greyface on the shoulder. "I just saw mister immortal here about to logic mister justice to death, and I wanted to see if I could hijack the process - but then I found out that I don't have any laws in here, really." I shrugged, and turned to him. "We okay? You weren't saving him or something for yourself?"

"No, don't worry about it," he said. "Vhailor sounded like a major tight-ass, and I doubt either Annah or Morte would appreciate having him around. And yeah," he grinned, with a fist tap to my own shoulder, "I was logic-ing him to death."

With that drama settled, we reseated ourselves. Jess still seemed put out by the whole thing.

"Jess?" I asked her, which she replied to with a sound of inquiry. "I am sorry about all that. I did mean it when I agreed with you, but then I changed my mind when the conversation progressed. My apologies, okay?" I stayed quiet for a breath. "One of the things I realized during that lovely little exchange was that I - and by extension, the greater me we are all in - does not have any laws, guidelines, constitutions or so on. Are you open to a project of that nature...?"

"Sure, Rainbow." She tried to keep her face neutral, but a small smile crept in. Much better. "Thanks."

Our grey skinned guest had relaxed while we were talking.

"Now that that excitement is over, I can tell you about the Outlands and the house of Fhjull Forked-Tongue," he said, and held up two shards of bone. "These pieces are from the skeleton which overlaid the underground space he lived it. He named the former being Ul-Goris, the original goristro - bull-headed siege demons." They were replaced on the table. "Fhjull himself was a Amnizu, a styx devil, who had his wings shredded and was cursed to be generous and helpful by the very Trias I had met earlier. Our next stop after his place was Baator, but we opted to try that magnificent mansion spell."

"For the record, it was. Magnificent, that is. I seriously can't imagine anyone going out on the planes without any sort of impressive extradimensional refuge like that - it made everything so much more comfortable." Greyface showed the fire immunity and suppressing ring on his right hand to me. "I also had an occasion to share and benefit from the... Use of this ring. Did you know when you gave it to me about Annah...?"

"Let's just say that I had a strong suspicion about it," I began, with an extra wide smile, "and I did my part in removing any practical barriers. So... Details? Anything?"

He raised his eyebrows and gave me a mild glare. "The baths were warm and comfortable, while the beds were large and durable. That's all I'll say about it."

"Fine, fine," I replied, waving it off. "I wasn't expecting anything lurid, anyways. My only real hope was that the whole tiefling and succubus issue had died down somewhat. Did it...?"

"Somewhat," he said, with a shrug. "There were reasons we took so long to come back, and ensuring that a certain minimum of tolerance between everybody present was part of it." He fiddled with the bone shards on the table, and tapped them against each other. "Now Baator was pretty cut and dried. We went to the Pillar of Skulls, I found out where my destined enemy of sorts is located - a fortress of regrets - and how to get there. It meshed with what Morte and Dak'kon had said before, about my past incarnation - the portal was in the very mortuary I woke up in, though I didn't find out how to activate that opening till some time later."

"Hey, Greyface?" I asked him.

"Yeah?"

"What's the story on the Pillar of Skulls, anyways?"

"It is composed of the heads of liars whose treachery sent somebody else to their death," he replied. I gave him a most perplexed expression and he expanded on it. "The understanding is that as they were liars in life, they have to tell the truth in death - but not for free. Each head, skull, or whatever, retains the knowledge it had in life and can be bargained with collectively for an answer. The knowledge is also limited in that sense. For instance, I asked about the being that hunts me, and it was unable to answer as the heads that contained the knowledge were removed from it and destroyed." He grimaced, and looked as if he ate something foul. "Pharod's skull was in there, for obvious reasons."

"Hmm... Relax a bit, would you two?" I asked Jess and Greyface, and they signaled their agreement. "I need to figure some things out here."

Nessi dearest!, I thought into our shared headspace, are you seeing the massive opportunity here?

More than you know, Mike-ster!, she replied in kind. I've already whipped up some indexing questions and ways to narrow down some of the last sources of information, rarest creatures and so on. This could be a breakthrough in many respects.

Absolutely! Are you all right to head in and manage things in the disposable time-line? Maybe with some automation of the power usage?

Of course, head-mate.

Great, thanks! Let me know how this all works out - we can have a whole batch of new projects and missions lined up afterwards.

"All right, I'm all sorted out," I said to the pair that had chatted together in my time spent connected to Nessi. "What happened after the Pillar, Greyface?"

"Nothing good," he replied. "Curst had experienced a planar shift, falling into Carceri, I believe. There, we had to do our best to save the villagers from the infernal forces attacking them, as well as attempt to align the populace in a way that would bring them back to the Outlands - good deeds, basically." He pushed a bound, old looking scroll across the small table to me. "Found that in one of the warehouses at the time as well. Seems to be a wish-type scroll, but rather ancient."

I took a look at it, if by 'took a look' I meant consulted the scanned template of it after an unspoken query to Nessi. It appeared to be able to increase fundamental physical and mental attributes, create an arcane 'item of power,' supply an amount of wealth, heal friendlies or conjure up three high level spell scrolls. It was also easily recreateable with no fuss. I pushed it back to him with a smile.

"You can keep it," I said. "Let me know if you want any wish scrolls as well."

"Sure," he replied, and put it back into his hammer-space with a touch. "At the head of all this chaos was Trias, the Betrayer, who we ended up thrashing and getting more exact details on how to use the mortuary portal from. He was let go with the - perhaps very foolish - belief that he could right things in his celestial realm of origin. He had a nice sword, too, but... Not worth the effort or intention to take it from him."

"Came back to Sigil through a nearby portal and did a quick pass of Fell's place, for new tattoos, Ravel's incarnations, as I said before, Coaxmetal..." He paused, and looked at me. "Do you know that that giant iron golem wants the modron cube? He probably thinks it will take him to the chaos of Limbo."

"Really? Hmm..."

For your information, it IS possible to jury-rig it to be a one-shot planar teleport device into Rainbow Rubikon, especially with the abilities inherent in the unfolding portal we picked up earlier. No Ziz objection either, so it likely means that the Lady is - at worst - 'neutral' about removing him.

I passed thoughts of gratitude her way as I looked at Greyface in contemplation.

"I think," I said, with a conspiratorially lowered voice, "we should give him what he wants. Maybe even arrange a welcoming party of sorts. Could you pass me back the cube?"

"All right," he replied with a smile, and pulled it from his hammer-space to pass to me. I started to layer the required enchantments on it, with an additional layer of Tinker-tech on it as insurance.

"Then," he continued, with a look back at the side door we came in from, "I headed over here and hung out a while. That's my story. How about you, Rainbow? Anything exciting?"

I let out a laugh, still focused on the modron cube.

"If you can stay for dinner and stay over here the night, I might have enough time to tell you all the details."

He agreed, and I started to talk of shadowrunning, insect spirits and more.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Disposable time-line.

"...And those are the answers to which demons and devils of 'lord' level power and higher start with the letter 'F,'" Greyface said. "That Pillar took a lot out of me for it." He gestured to the window-like opening floating just barely off the ground. It led to the path just outside the clearing which held the mound of skulls.

"You sure that you have a way to restore the draining of the vitality it did to me, Rainbow?" He asked me, a questioning look on his face.

"Absolutely," I replied, and put a hand on his shoulder. "No way am I ever going to let those freaky heads munch on you for real."

"What do you mean, for rea-"

Disposable time-line closed.

Disposable time-line created.

The door to the side-room opened and Nessi stepped in.

"Sorry to interrupt, everyone," she said, with a nod to Jess, Greyface and myself, "but I thought we could use this opportunity to ask the Pillar of Skulls a single, complex question. Something like... What are the names of the demons and devils of 'lord' level power and higher that start with the letter 'G.'"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Main time-line, later that day.

Nessi, Ziz and myself stood in a single, massive room in the Rainbow Rubikon. The entire sub-demiplane region had had it's time traits adjusted to normal, and the rooms were changed to only contain a small entrance, the configuration chamber, and this large one here.

Judging by when Greyface had stepped out with the intent to barter the 'one use, expiry date limited' modron cube to Coaxmetal, it should be any minute now .

"Do we really need a golem dedicated to the creation of large scale weapons, Mike-ster?" Nessi asked me.

I turned back to her and Ziz. We were all in a corner spot of the room.

"Not really, no," I replied, then gave a nod to Ziz. "Our beloved platinum angel is here for any needed corrections to me, but the current options - as you very well know, head-mate! - are Subsuming of the siege tower and himself, turning him into a Guardian, portal scanning him, and/or blasting the whole thing into nothingness. Different benefits to each of those, including a new pool of knowledge based around the creation of magical weapons."

White wings fluffed Nessi and myself, then lightly pushed my head to face back to the center of the room. The siege tower had appeared. It was at least two stories tall, in a squat design of metal slabs, spiked wheels and heavy armour.

Time for the moment of truth, I thought, as I looked back up at Ziz.

"Blast it into nothingness?" A platinum white finger of substantial size of utterly smooth softness poked me on the nose. "Portal scan him?" A wing tip brushed over me.

Without even a look back at the siege tower, I made an over-sized portal to a large, remote room in my Domain. It started it's downward movement from the ceiling and stopped just inches from the floor, and missed the last fraction of the tower's wheels. It then reversed course, and headed back up to the ceiling. No visible change to the tower was revealed during it's brief disappearance.

"You were right about that, head-mate," Nessi said, blue glowing eyes wide, "that just dumped reams of magical weapon production methods into our records. Scary stuff, actually."

I pulled her into a half-hug and again looked up at Ziz.

"Turn that whole thing into a Guardian?" Another nose poke. "Subsume it?" A large wing feathered its way over me.

I sighed and turned back to the siege tower. The others had already done so.

"Sorry, Coaxmetal," I said, as I gave a brief salute to the golem fused to the inside of the building, "today, entropy unmakes you."

The metallic floor around the siege tower suddenly seemed to become liquid and it started to sink. At the same time, large, tentacle like tendrils emerged from the ground and swarmed over the surface, and began to cover and pull it in faster. It was about a third of the way into the floor by the time it was utterly covered. It sank a lot faster after that. We watched until the whole thing had disappeared and the floor resettled itself.

"I forge implements by which the multiverse will be unmade..." Nessi whispered.

"So nothing new then, eh?" I asked her, with a half-hug squeeze.

"Only if you consider the origin - magical bullshit instead of science fiction bullshit," she replied.

"Let's aim for something a little more constructive, like... Say... Destroying all the forces of the Blood War or such."

Nessi made some contemplative noises as we all headed out of the Rainbow Rubikon. We'll meet up with Greyface and the rest of them as soon as they come back from the former site of the siege tower.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Friday, August 24rd, 2057 (SR) - Evening.

I'd like to win at something, I thought, looking over my cards. Most everyone else was present, even the infrequently seen Guardians, Levl, Emoth and Khonshu. The four Taylors were treated as one player, and so were Nessi and myself. Jessica and Silla were treated as separate players. Ziz was most definitely not playing, apart from using her telekinesis to hold up the cards for the other Guardians.

There was a four of hearts on the current stack, and it was Levi's turn. He had three cards left. One, two and... Three started to move under the control of Ziz, and they spiraled down in an acrobatic display. They were a two of hearts, seven of hearts and a queen of hearts.

Levi had won, yet again. We'd been at different card games for hours, and the only ones that had won were the Guardians. I had made the mistake of letting Ziz shuffle the cards once. ONCE. After that, we were doomed. DOOMED.

I threw my cards up in the air with a sigh, and the other small humanoids followed soon after. Ziz caught them before they even left our hands, and made them act like a mid air school of fish. One more sign of her total mastery of telekinesis.

"I believe that card games are officially dead in the water right now," I addressed the smaller members of our group. "Anybody up for Monopoly? And has Ziz ever touched that game box?"

"I don't know," Silla replied, with her face scrunched up. "I think there might have been one time, a few months ago..."

"Right then, Monopoly is out," I sighed. "Anybody have other ideas?"

Before anyone could reply, a yellow coloured light started to blink from the whole ceiling. It was the sign we had been waiting for. We rearranged ourselves to stare upwards at the ceiling where I had created a massive portal that filtered out everything except sound and light. Layered beneath it was a combination telescopic microphone and display screen.

It turned on. The zoom and focus features quickly showed their worth by centering themselves on a dark fortress, then further to the very top roof layer. It was laid out like almost like a lowercase 't,' with the upper section in focus. The middle area held the broken bodies of Greyface's companions, while the upper area had the main man himself - still standing - with another being.

The creature looked roughly humanoid, with it's green glowing frame resembling a combination of skeleton and armour composed of cruel looking plant life. Wings in the same patchwork style extended from it's back, and it floated about a foot off the ground. Long, narrow and sharp metallic claws extended from it's fingers, and it's head narrow up like a cone.

Transcendent One, I thought, and shook my head back and forth, you didn't listen when I said 'behave,' did you? Or maybe I over-estimated you and you never ever heard me?

The sound system activated, and I focused on the screen.

"SPEAK YOUR WORDS," the Transcendent One said. "THEY SHALL PROVE TO BE MEANINGLESS SOON ENOUGH."

"Fine," Greyface replied. "I'll ask again - what have you done to my friends?"

The view stayed locked on they grey scarred one as they moved to the center of the roof. The bodies of his friends lay around the pair.

"ARE THEY DEAD?" It gestured around itself at the broken bodies. "YES. UNLIKE YOU, THEY HAVE BUT ONE LIFE. THEY WASTED IT FOR YOUR SAKE. THEY DIED FOR YOU AS THEY ALWAYS HAVE. SUCH IS THE WAY OF ALL MORTAL THINGS. IT IS THE FATE OF ALL THAT FOLLOW YOU, BROKEN ONE. YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN MUCH."

"Why did you do it?"

"THEY TRIED TO HARM ME." It scoffed, and waved a claw tipped hand. "HERE, OF ALL PLACES. I DEFENDED MYSELF. IN SO DOING, MORTALITY CLAIMED THEM. THEIR DEATHS WERE BY THEIR OWN HAND. I GAVE THEM THE OPPORTUNITY TO DEPART THIS PLACE, BUT THEY SEEMED DETERMINED TO HELP YOU, DESPITE THE COST TO THEMSELVES."

"So you killed them."

"THE TIEFLING GIRL WAS ESPECIALLY FIERCE IN HER DEFENCE. HER FEELINGS FOR YOU BURNED BRIGHTER THAN ELYSIUM'S FIRES," it mocked Greyface. "AND THE TANAR'RI... SHE WAS QUITE STRONG. HER TOLERANCE FOR PAIN WOULD HAVE SHAMED THE BAATEZU THEMSELVES. I TOOK NO PLEASURE IN THEIR DEATHS." Its skeletal green glowing frame moved, akin to a shrug.

"Then why did you do it?"

"IT WAS NOT MY WILL," the being replied. "IT WAS NOT I THAT BROUGHT THEM HERE. ALL OF THEM HAD A CHOICE. AND THEY CHOSE TO DIE FOR YOU. IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN THE WAY OF ALL THAT FOLLOW YOU. FOR THEY ARE TORMENTED SOULS, SEEKING A RELEASE. BUT THEY KNOW NOT WHY. YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN THIS. AND YOU SHALL AGAIN."

"I know you for what you are - you are my mortality," Greyface said, a tone of assuredness in his voice. "Your armour - it is twisted like tree branches. Such things speak of Ravel's magics."

"YES. I AM THAT WHICH WAS SPLIT FROM YOU BY THE HAG'S POWER. I AM THAT WHICH WALKS WITH ALL LIFE. MY VOICE IS A DEATH RATTLE, A LAST BREATH IN THE THROAT, THE WHISPER OF A DYING MAN. I HAVE BEEN FREED FROM THE PRISON OF YOUR FLESH."

"Freed from me?"

"THE MOMENT I WAS SPLIT FROM YOUR CANCEROUS SHELL, I KNEW LIFE. I KNEW FREEDOM. I SHALL NOT SURRENDER IT TO YOU."

"We were not meant to be separated," Greyface explained. "And the Planes have suffered because of our separation."

"YOU KNOW NOTHING OF MEANING AND SEPERATION," the Transcendent One snarled. "BEFORE YOUR MEMORY DIES AGAIN, KNOW THAT WE WERE NEVER MEANT TO BE AS ONE. THIS SHALL BE THE LAST TIME YOU AND ME SPEAK, BROKEN ONE."

"Then there is something I would know, spirit - I have traveled far, and there are many questions you can answer."

"I WILL INDULGE YOU THIS ONE LAST TIME," it said, and spread its arms in uncaring acceptance. "THEN THIS FORTRESS WILL BE SILENT AGAIN."

"Then my questions are these..." Greyface paused.

"ASK YOUR QUESTIONS," it invited, "BUT KNOW YOU SHALL NEVER REMEMBER THE ANSWERS."

He took a deep breath, as if to prepare himself for a battle. In a way, this was. "I may be immortal, but Ravel told me the ritual was flawed: whenever I die, I lose a fraction of my mind. In time, after many deaths, I shall lose even the ability to think for myself."

"IT IS OF NO MATTER," the being said without emphasis. "YOU CANNOT DIE. YOUR MIND MAY BE LOST, BUT YOUR FLESH WILL LIVE ON. THAT IS ALL THAT IS NEEDED."

"'Needed'? Why?" Greyface's eyes lit up at the admission of the other. Here was an in to resolve things further.

"WE SHARE A LINK, YOU AND I, HOWEVER SMALL," the being confessed. "I DO NOT WISH YOU DESTROYED, ONLY FAR FROM ME."

"If we're linked, then when I suffer, you must suffer as well."

"THE WEAK SUFFER. I ENDURE."

"So if I were to die, that link would be broken..." He speculated, as he looked at the corpses of his friends.

"YOU CANNOT DIE," the creature insisted.

"Well, if I cannot die, you can't exist. You're my mortality."

"PERHAPS ONCE. NO LONGER. I HAVE CHANGED. I HAVE TRANSCENDED AND BECOME SOMETHING GREATER."

"Perhaps so - but at your core, you are still my mortality. If I die, you die."

This entire time, neither of them had moved substantially. They remained in the centre of those corpses, blood pooling among the tiled pattern of the roof top.

"YOU KNOW NOTHING OF WHAT YOU SPEAK. YOUR WORDS ARE HOLLOW -- AS IS YOUR SHELL."

"I think I know exactly what I'm saying. If I were to be destroyed, you would be destroyed."

"YOU LISTEN, BUT YOU DO NOT HEAR," the Transcendent One insisted. "KNOW THAT YOU CANNOT DIE."

"Actually, I can - now. I had a golem forge a weapon that can kill even me. All it needed was to be brought to a place cut off from the rest of the Planes so that my immortality could not draw upon other lives." Greyface moved closer to the spirit, and stared at the inner bound energy. "And here I am."

"YOU LIE," it said, with perhaps a tone of desperation in it's voice. The words were accompanied by a slight, but noticeable, tilt of it's body away from Greyface.

Mister immortal brought out the oddly shaped, dull blade from his hammer space. It looked so small and insignificant in this confrontation between the two, but its weight was more than physical. "Do I? Look upon this blade - see its nature," he brandished it near the face of the spirit. "If you are as all-knowing and as all-powerful as you CLAIM, then you will know that this is a weapon that can unmake me. And since we share a link, it is a blade that can unmake YOU."

"YOU WOULD NOT DARE SUCH A THING," it said, desperation only barely hidden in it's words.

"I will use the blade on myself if you do not surrender to me," he said, and held the knife near his own throat. "You and I will both be destroyed."

I'm going to get something to eat, head-mate, I mentally told Nessi.

"IT WOULD BE A FOOL'S GESTURE," it placated. "YOUR DEATH WOULD HAVE NO MEANING."

Don't get it lodged in your throat, Mike-ster, she replied.

"As I see it, I have two choices - either I kill myself with this blade, or I let you kill me again and again, losing what few pieces of my mind I have left. I think I'd prefer the quick death - UNLESS you have a THIRD solution."

"THERE IS NO RESOLUTION TO THIS MATTER," it said, in an attempt to deny reality and enforce its own. "YOU WILL SURRENDER THE BLADE, THEN YOU WILL SUBMIT. YOU WILL LEAVE THIS FORTRESS, AND YOU WILL LEAVE WITHOUT YOUR MEMORY. THERE IS NO OTHER SOLUTION."

"There is one other one," he said. "Re-unite with me. We will become one again, as we were meant to be." His fingers played over the surface of the blade, but it did not waver from the spot near his neck.

"YOU KNOW NOT FOR WHAT YOU DO," the Transcendent One said. "IF WE ARE RE-UNITED, THEN IT SHALL BE AN ENDING. THERE SHALL BE NO FUTURE FOR US. WE SHALL GO ON TO FURTHER TORMENTS."

"It is better that happen than the multiverse continues to suffer because of us."

"IF WE BECOME ONE, WE SHALL SUFFER," it replied. "THERE IS TOO MUCH OF THE NATURE OF THE FIRST ONE IN US FOR US TO BE SAVED. WE SHALL BE DAMNED. YOU KNOW NOT WHAT YOU DO." The inner glow contained within the branch-like tree armour flared with the spirit's words.

"No, I know very well what I do. And I think this is the only answer. Prepare yourself."

"KNOW THAT I HAVE ALWAYS HATED YOU, BROKEN ONE," it all but spat out. "WHEN WE ARE ONE, I WILL CONTINUE TO HATE YOU. WHEN YOU SHELL DIES AT LAST, KNOW THAT I SHALL TAKE PLEASURE IN YOUR DEATH."

"I can live with that - and so can the Planes," he replied, unconcerned.

"KNOW THAT MY HATRED FOR YOU WILL UNMAKE THE PLANES," it boasted. "PREPARE YOURSELF. WE SHALL BE AS ONE AGAIN -- UNTIL YOUR LAST MOMENTS OF LIFE."

"Before we do, what of my friends?" He asked, and looked around at the surrounding corpses. "Is it possible to save them?"

"Exactly what I want to ask you, Greyface," I said, as I appeared beside both of them. He jerked a little with the movement, but I grabbed his forearm quickly to ensure no accidents happened. "Careful with the knife, now. We wouldn't want anything to happen, would we?" I gave him an elbow nudge in the side of his ribs.

Both of them appeared frozen at my presence. The Transcendent One spoke first.

"IMPOSSIBLE. YOU CAN NOT ESCAPE THE PRISON OF YOUR OWN EXISTANCE TO VISIT MY FORTRESS, ABOMINATION," it snarled at me.

I gave the spirit a hurt look and replied, "first of all, that is very rude, you mangy little soul puppet. Secondly," I snapped my fingers and the sky and area around the rooftop shattered, revealing my favourite default brown room writ large, "we are not in your fortress. I had to remodel a bit - and by remodel, I mean crush - but I eventually squeezed it down far enough to swallow the whole thing and leave this roof intact, with a lovely little visual and sound effect barrier around it."

"Hope you don't mind, Greyface...?" I asked, and tilted my head in inquiry. "You've been kind of quiet there." I whipped my head back to the spirit. "And you don't try anything. In my Domain, spirits can be snuffed without even a thought. I have to make a conscious effort to ensure that you stay intact."

"How did you even find this place, Rainbow?" He asked me, storing the immortal-slaying blade in his hammer-space again.

"Two ways, actually. The first was a hint given way back - that I knew more about you than I said. I could have restored your memories, but it would have rendered your journey so much less. You know that, right?" I asked him, with a tone of hope in my voice. There was always the risk that he'd flip out at me, even now.

Eventually, Greyface nodded. I let out a relieved breath.

"The second was a very specific lie - a piece of bait that the Transcendent One followed, as predictable as it is." I stared at the armoured creature, and it did nothing but shift it's fronds in anger. "The planar ring I gave you does not just disappear after a minute passes away from you - it also signals me, so that I can get a look-see and find out what is going on. Forgive me?" I asked him with a small smile.

"Sure, Rainbow," he replied with a bigger smile himself. "No problem. But... Why are you here right now?"

"I'll get to that shortly," I said, then indicated his fallen companions. "How about you resurrect them first and we can talk? Skip Morte though, he is just faking it."

"Hey!" The now floating skull said, "I'm not... Oops. Sorry, chief!" Morte then backed away suddenly upon sight of the Transcendent One. In absence of any reaction from the spirit, he cautiously started to float around it.

Greyface waved off the apology and started his way around the bodies. A few words and a gesture was enough to pull in their spirits from wherever, and in minutes they were all back to their feet. He had to make some substantial efforts to ensure they stayed calm in the presence of the green glowing being.

"You okay if I explain now, Greyface?"

"Go ahead, Rainbow," he said from beside Annah. She didn't do anything as obvious as hold his hand, but her tail was wrapped rather tightly around his thigh. She was also as close to him as possible without actually leaning on him.

The others exhibited no particular body language. Fall-from-Grace looked poised and perfect, even now; Dak'kon was in a state of relaxation that likely belayed a warrior's readiness; Nordom seemed eager to shoot something; and Morte... Well... He floated. That's what he does, float.

"Okay, first I want to say what would have happened if I had not intervened. Greyface here," I pointed to the man of the ages, "would have merged with the Transcendent One over there," another gesture indicates the green glowing being, "and he would have been complete and mortal again. That would have been the good news."

Fall-from-Grace gave me a shallow nod in recognition, and her bat-like wings fluttered slightly. She, among all the group, had the most experience with the various infernal realms, and knew what awaited the transgressors.

"Then he would have been changed in mind and spirit, resurrected you all, and bid you goodbye in turn. After which," I locked eyes with Greyface himself, "he would have been pulled down into the infernal realms to serve in the Blood War for untold amounts of centuries. More than that, a good portion of his powers would fade, if not disappear totally, in that transition. He'd be lucky to last a single day."

"I trust that nobody here actually wanted that to happen?" I asked them collectively. A chorus of negative responses greeted me, with only Greyface staying neutral and silent during the exchange.

"So... Without getting into too much details about my powers," I gave them a thin lipped smile, "I'm simply here to provide a number of options. Rather than list them all, however, I'm leaving it all open to the group of you, mortality included," I glanced over to where the spirit hovered silently, "and have you tell me what you want in spite of, and irregardless of, what the laws of the celestial realms, infernal hells and everything else mandate. You have each other to talk to about this, as well as..."

I Conjured a giant stand up television and turned it on. Centered on the screen were another identical set of people as here. I waved to myself in synced action. The only absence on the screen was that of the Transcendent One.

"As well as what might have been. He," I pointed to the Greyface on the screen, "is what he," I pointed to the Greyface near myself, "would become if he successfully merged with his mortality. I also informed the merged version of all the possible options that I'm personally aware of, but told him to only suggest such if none of you figure it out."

"Take all the time you need," I added. "Just keep in mind that I have a few of my magical effects present in here - that of spoken truth, sanctuary, and mind blank. In addition to which, you'll be supplied with three meals a day."

One wave to Conjure the enchanted table and another to bid them good day.

"Good luck!" I said, then teleported away.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Actually...fuckit.

OMAKE.

Ok people. I know there have been a lot of questions, a lot of theories and a lot of noise about Umbrella Corp and it's interests. Thats why, to prevent yet another minor crash due to overload, flame wars and all round annoyance. We, the staff of Shadowland have created this handy new thread for all your theories and information.

To kick us off, we have obtained the assistance of long time user and all round legend, Fastjack to lead out. For those of you who are dribbling idiots, Fastjack has been one of THE big names in the Decking scene since it began. He was poster #3 in the original incarnation of Shadowland, before it opened to the public. Or even hosted properly. Which isnt bad as even he isn't admitting how he did it and we don't know either. That said, take it away.

And remember kiddies. Lets keep it civil.

Captain Chaos

Thanks Cap,

Now, to begin with, Lets talk about what we know of Umbrella.

To start with, the first known appearance by them, was at the reading of Dunkelzahn's Will at the Watergate Hotel in Washington DC. This even was run, officially by the Draco Foundation, but borrowed heavily from the FBI, Secret Service and other DC based organisation. The UCAS Government was involved because of The Big D's position and election, as well as Ms Daviar's position in their organisation. This also meant the place was bugged to high heaven and back. I'm not kidding. Everything in there was monitored. Even the toilet seats.

Then a top of the line Limo, Rolls Royce Phaeton, which are also armoured to hell and back, expensive as anything you can drive short of a T-Bird and goes brand new for more than Half a Million Nuyen (three times that if you buy it in the Shadows with a clean history) escorted by 2x Saab Dynamit 776TI rolls up.

Lets pause here for a moment. A a quarter of a million for a single unit, the Dynamit is THE super-car around at the moment. There is no stock model car faster, with comparable brakes, turning and so on. It is the toy of the ultra-rich and famous. Two of these were used as pursuit cars for security. Now, to turn these into Pursuit cars, the standard procedure is to upgrade the suspension, add armour, improve the engine and modify the seats for fast entry/exit. They also have a spare seat for each VIP in case of the need to emergency evacuate. I spoke to a Rigger of my acquaintance about what he would do to each of the three cars for maximum efficiency and so on in their roles. In short, to buy these cars, trick them out like I think they were and so on? The bill is now looking at 5 Million Nuyen. That is what she arrived in.

That is also when the first signs that something was wrong cropped up. In this case, it came from the security station where the cameras were monitored. Specific date stamped and time stamped transcripts are available on this link here, but it comes down to, the Observer questioning the on site guards as to why they were acting like a car was there. At this point, an Alpha Flag was raised and the security system went from Green 7 to Orange 9. For approximately half a milisecond before it was reduced back to Green 7, the flag was removed and everything returned to normal.

This is when the VIP emerged. We don't have a picture of her, because there are none. Eye witnesses say her name was 'Silla Trebheart. She had a legitimate (or good enough forgery to make no difference) pass and was accepted into the event. Interestingly, while she has some digital presence officially, and a legitimate background, officially, when comparing the database to an offline one copied a week before, she didn't exist then. Thus, this is clearly a fake name and background. Who she really is though, is not known. Most of her bodyguards/security went to the herding pen with the rest where muscle geeks and brutes sat and glared at eachother, while waiting for the call. It's worth noting that from interviews after, the guards names and faces are not recalled

the third lair, find the scroll, take it and bring it to the reading, all since Dunky died. Note, we do not know what else was in the three lairs and how hard the traps were, but lets face it, they are Dragon's Lairs. All this was managed without a single sign of anything going on.

After she obtained the foot, 'Silla' then departed the reading, obtained her guards and has since vanished.

Things to note. The guards, Silla and the cars? There is no footage of them. None. Nadda. Zip. They are invisible to all surveilance. If any of them spoke at the event, their words are not recorded. More to the point, 16 tracking devices, three micro-bombs, 19 recording devices and one stow-away, were all left behind.

Of course, after this event, everyone who wanted to be in the know, went hinting for the Umbrella Import Group, of which Ms Silla was representing. Oh they found things. Official traces going back five and a half years. They found digital finger prints and so on. What no one found. Not a single person, was anyone who is even admitting to knowing someone who did any form of business with them. They have no offices, no staff and do no business. They do however pay taxes. There is proof they have imported and exported some goods and generally acted as a middleman, a C ranked Corp at best. However, there are no cargo containers with their flag, no employees we can find and no one who has used their services.

To top it off, this is the FIRST document which isnt self-deleting when you even attempt to record anything about them in the Matrix.

I don't know who these people are. I don't know where they are or where they come from. However, that level of skill, power and security scares me.

Fastjack

Just as a note, this document has been allowed by the security arm of Umbrella Import Group. However, while wild speculation and grandstanding are tolerated. Racial Bias, completely over the top speculation about Aliens, Squid, AI's and Feline Overlords are not. We don't mind you speculating. However, do try to keep it realistic.

Nessie - The Beast that Lurks

And judging by the time/date stamp on this, Nessie posted that WHILE I was still writing it. Which means my system was hacked or it was pre-written and the Shadowland servers had an invisible virus that resisted all attempts to even find it by the best security in the business, which left the message as first reply automatically. I don't know which scares me more.

Fastjack

Ok, these people scare me. I've been in the Shadows for a few years. I've done my time. I've seen Ghosts in the Machine, the advent of Black ICE, and I havent seen anyone who can scout out all that, cover the distance, do everything and get it done in 6 days. Let alone the digital invisibility trick

Buzz

So, lets look at this logically. Lets assume The Big D's will (rest in peace big guy), became available to them the instant Dunkelzahn died. Prior to that, it was stored offline for sound security reasons. We know he had lairs in The Urals, Vancouver and in the East Coast of UCAS. So, lets break that down. Assuming they had perfect intelligence, to time it takes to travel to that part of The Urals from Seattle (a common starting point), then to travel by air in a VTOL craft such as a Thunderbird, break the security of the lair, search it, find the clues, evacuate, move to Vancouver, find the next lair, break the security, obtain the clue. Evacuate the area. Move to the Third clue location. Find the lair, break the security, find the scroll case, evacuate the area, travel to Washington DC, hand the case over to their Face, who then attends the reading. Total time taken? 6 days. Is it physically possible? Yes it is. Is it likely? Not really. We know that they have Digital Invisibility, so that could hide them from various methods of detection. What it couldnt do is hide them from Magical detection. We know that Dunky uses Free Spirits, Magical Beasts and other forms as magical protection. So, it had to be a Magic User of Equal or Greater levels of power to get through everything so quickly. For such a being to exist, it had to be another Dragon. There is nothing else that could do this. So, what is so important about the Scroll Case and the Foot, that a Great Dragon went personally to break the security, while some of the scariest deckers on the planet did their thing?

Dragonslayer

More Powerful had to be a Dragon? Lord what fools these mortals be.

The Laughing Man ~Ha Fraggin Ha~

UCAS Military and FBI are throwing a collective fit over the concept of their systems being broken into. Those who are on the ball can take advantage of this security chaos to do some shopping.

The Smiling Bandit!

I've been going over the sales and shipping records of every single Phaeton and Dynamit sold. I've cross-referenced every service record for those sold. Keep in mind, the combined total is still less than 50 for both models. Right now, every single model sold is accounted for. More to the point, the factories that make them? Every part is accounted for. I can give you the exact location of every single one of them right now, and they are all accounted for. Simply put? Those cars dont exist. Despite there being eye witness accounts that they do.

Wheel-Man

A Chummer of mine actually managed to get a job at The Watergate for that evening. He has a cyber-eye with a camera and took a photo of the faces of every person he saw, which was later transfered to his old Turtle for storage. He says he has photos of the guards and Silla, but it's all offline. Contact me if you want a copy. We can talk price then.

The Neon Samurai

1.5 - "Space for One More"

Saturday, August 25rd, 2057 (Shadowrun calendar)

"This is DJ Darco Smooth! I'm here to bring you the news with the slant and bias of the only person who matters on the airwaves - me! So, hello again folks, creatures and critters of all persuasions! Did you miss me? Or perhaps you couldn't even find me? Either way, hello, hello, hello!"

"There appears to have been quite an interesting surge of responses, reactions, and gibbering batches of insanity from the first little show I did. Was one of those callers your very fine self? Perhaps I'll bring it on air for the world to hear."

"Callers fell into a few categories, including crazies, druggies, toxic shamans and burnt out insane; corporates, officials, and authorities of all kind, recognized and not; shadowrunners, criminals, gangsters, and their supporters; and glory hounds, news reporters and journalists. There were more, of course - but those were the top hitters."

"Along with the callers, so too can the questions being sent my way could be collated, collected, and homogenized into some rather nice packages, not unlike some premium soy products. Mmm, soy."

"So then... Question and answer time!"

"The most popular one goes something like this: DJ Darco Smooth, besides wanting you to give me your baby batter you sexy sexy man, could you pretty please with cocaine on top tell me who you really are and where you are broadcasting from?"

"Why of course, desperate ladies and those that sorta seem like it in the dark, I'd be happy to answer that - in person. Maybe even with the lights on, you dig me? You find me, and I'll tell you. Ain't that a riot?"

"Next question: did any of more of those bad evil mojo spirits come out from that mystically sealed cave in Australia?"

"Probably, I guess. Fucked if I know, right? Keep your wards up and trigger fingers itchy - just in case."

"What REALLY happened to mister and missus spider?"

"The official unofficial news is the exact same thing, people - they got CLAIMED. Whether there is anything left for an electron microscope to find afterwards depends on people higher up in the pay-grade than me. Seeing as how I don't get paid a single nuyen, that would be much everyone, wouldn't it?"

"Another Q! No R or S, though. It goes a little like this: can you help me find those corpses so I can do nasty things to those nasty remains?"

"Not just no, but stay the fuck away from me no!"

"How do I swear fealty to the Queen Mother Empress of Insects? That was a popular question, along with variations, such as 'how do I kill her?' and 'what are the coordinates of her living place so that I could order a Thor strike on it?' All the same thing, as far as I'm concerned."

"Don't you worry your fine self about this, folks. The Queen of Queens will find YOU, and then the only real question remains is this: do you get on your knees and move your head back and forth as appropriate, or do you rip out your guts and splatter them all around you, finally becoming useful in death as fertilizer? There might even be a third option. Just... Don't be stupid. This world has plenty of stupid, and we don't need any more."

"Along with that, there was the rather loaded question of how I even knew about the Queen Mother Empress. Simple, folks. I'm not a solo operator - there are back channels. Some of those pass me info and relevant pieces of news. I'm not going to actually get up and search for material. Along those lines, I'm open to genuine comments from the movers, shakers and monster bit players of the world and beyond - phone them in, why don't ya? You only have your dignity to lose."

"That's it for the questions I could be bothered to answer. We even have some live callers on the line. Ain't that nice? Too bad I'm ending the show."

"Before I go, I have a special, premium, awesome, fuzzy butts announcement: I will be a middle man in the granting of boons, wishes, services, gifts, presents and so on. Send in your requests, callers! Because... No matter how big or how small, I can ignore or fulfill them if I feel like it - or one of my sponsors does so. I might even do a draw or lotto thing. I have to stretch out my time somehow, right?"

"As before, to reach me just speak into live static and say my name, DJ Darco Smooth, three times. Who knows what will happen!"

"Get ready for the cast iron branding mark of truth, humour and pain coming up. Some time. Maybe? Probably? Oh, whenever."

"This is DJ Darco Smooth signing off. And remember - if you want to play doctor with the lady ghouls, remember to bring the REALLY heavy duty O-ring mouth guards."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Same day, 3:27 AM, Shadowmech Stealth Jet, in-flight transit on the way to the Hoffman farm in Haggard, Kansas, UCAS. Kia's POV.

"Right, aces," I said, and took a look at the assembled group. Everybody was tense - this was the closest we've gotten to failure so far, even if not by the results of our own actions. The items from big D's will are red hot right now, with some people cleaning up the traces to ensure that they never get claimed.

"My recap of the situation will be quick," I continued, "we missed the first witnesses, as their corpses can tell. The 2011 NASA mission, Operation Discovery, had one last surviving astronaut who was Lieutenant Colonel James Yavin of the U.S. Air Force. Ops N told me that they are planning on explaining his death away due to a massive coronary, which happened in the very safe interior of the Ellington Air Force base near Houston. It occurred shortly after the Special Operations Division of AresSpace Security interviewed him and left the base. His room had four active bugs in it as well, but the conversation isn't important to us."

I ran a hand over my red spiked hair and glanced at the vehicle display. Estimated time of arrival was still some minutes away.

"Then Dr. Robert Zeus, a scientist involved in the same 2011 project, who was rightly paranoid," I said, and took a deep breath, "was erased in the middle of a public park with a high caliber sniper shot by the same cleaner organization, Veil, when talking to that same AresSpace Security team from earlier."

Cayman interrupted, "High caliber. The doc's head just popped." His fingers were wrapped around a full auto smart-grenade launcher gifted from Umbrella. It was one of those 'magic for mundanes' prototypes, apparently able to generate unlimited amounts of any types of grenades. I prefer my own Ares Predator version 'infinity,' but I'm not begrudging the hard guy his toys.

"Yeah," I replied, "then it looks like there was a leak somewhere - or multiple places, as a shadowrunning team hit the last witness, Karl Xavier." I swallowed audibly. "He was the head of Astrotech Industries, who did covert work for the UCAS government. His files were accessed by Ops N, so we already have a summary of Operation Discovery, the storage facility that we are heading to, and the paydata from Project Cydonia. Now, the runners somehow figured that an industrial explosion would be the best cover-up, but they couldn't even do that right - UCAS black op teams are pissed off and active. On top of that," I let loose a crazed laugh, "there is some chatter about our destination being used as a artillery target for 'weapon calibration' sometime in the next hour."

"Some good news, though," I continued, "we are probably the first team to hit the Hoffman farm bunker. Everyone else will be coming right afterwards. On top of that, Ops N has already approved everything we do with total digital invisibility and pre-penetrated the digital security on site. And," I looked at the clock again, "we have about three minutes to plan before we touch down. All yours, Kellan." I looked at our team lead. She was decked out for war, as we all were right now. This is not an brush-up run, especially when we only got woken when the first corpse hit the ground.

"Right. Thank you, Kia," she said, and turned back to the rest of the team. I managed to send her a wave before I sagged in my seat. I might get a lot of pistol work done today. "Cayman!"

"Yeah, Kellan?" His eyes snapped to her from his heavy weaponry.

"Can that thing produce hardened, individually remote controlled explosives?" He made an affirmative grunt. "All right, you're..." Kellan continued to detail the plan in the short time we had left.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

3:35 AM, Hoffman farm in Haggard, Kansas, UCAS.

I only had enough time to do a quick scan of the surroundings before we were directed to one of the several decrepit barns by Mutus. Mutus pointed it out from where she was working with Cayman, each smart grenade handed to her packed into the ground via some means I would not likely understand. Winterhawk was their oversight, much like how I was for Ma'fan and Kellan. A long dirt road, a farmhouse and a batch of old, rusted machinery were all that stood out in the dim light provided by our vehicle.

"This way," Ma'fan said, as she stepped through the interior of the ruined barn. The far side had a storm cellar entrance, which was secured with a maglock. With a tap of her finger, it opened and she put it off to the side. In response to my curious stare, she said, "Ops N, Kia."

Kellan lightly hushed her, and they both flipped open the doors of the storm cellar. M'fan went point down the cement stairs, and I was last. As there were no signs of other people - the undisturbed dust proved that - I kept my pistol holstered, but easily accessible.

[G-Kellan: Since we don't know when our stunning twinkies will be arriving, lets keep everything to our internal communications. How are things outside?, Kellan sent as we walked.

The bare cement stairs led down a simple metal door, which was opened the same way. The darkness beyond was revealed to be a long flight of metal stairs, which we illuminated with our shoulder-mounted lights.

[G-Mutus: Almost done. Quiet.]

Cayman and Winterhawk also reported in the same way, while Kellan relayed further instructions to them. The three of us continued down the stairs and eventually came to a large, vault-like door. It would have been a lot more impressive it Ma'fan didn't open it with a single tap.

[G-Kia: Ops N... I have no words for the apogee that you are. Except what I just said.]

My comments were echoed by everyone in group chat, though Kellan did sigh afterwards at the unprofessional nature of the whole thing. If you can't joke around inside the minds of your chummers, I thought, where could you? Maybe she is just tense about the situation. I know I am.

The opened vault door led to another concrete walled area, about the size of a small bedroom. I suspect that all the rooms in this facility will be of concrete. Ma'fan walked over to the computer console opposite the door, and pushed the single chair out of the way. The squeaks it's rollers made were the loudest things we have heard since entering this underground space. She tapped some buttons on the integrated keyboard and waited.

[G-Ma'Fan: Security room. Easily recognizable. Already cleared by our digital angel.]

She tapped at a series of unlit LEDs at the top of the equipment.

[G-Ma'Fan: They would have been blinking if there was a problem. Nothing else to do here except turn on the power.]

With that message, I followed her pointed hand to a circuit-breaker box. A pull of the large switch started to turn on the lights. I looked around - none of them were anything special, just single bulbs covered by small metal cages. I turned off my shoulder light.

Ma'fan opened the door at the end of the room - the first unlocked one we had encountered - and we stepped into another small room. It had two desks, an ancient personal computer, and some filing cabinets. I started towards the still booting up computer when Ma'fan waved me away from it.

"Don't bother," she whispered as she passed me, "it just has database entries and inventory. Ops N already processed it." I let out a laugh-like snort, and she smiled and headed to the filing cabinets. She opened each of them and swept her hands through the interior.

I quietly stepped over to watch what she was doing, and found out that every file folder she touched disappeared. My eyes widened and, after I caught her attention, mouthed 'Umbrella.' She nodded, with another smile, and went back to finishing emptying the filing cabinets. Kellan had already opened the door to the next room, and she had stopped in sight of the opening.

"Come in," she said quietly, waving me forward. "Change of plans, but can you start gathering all the small stuff together for M'fan?"

"Sure," I replied, and gave the room a once over. It was decently large, easily as big as the empty barn far above us. A number of bins ringed the room, each covered with Plexiglas, and an entire enclosed section which housed a complete space capsule. All of the covered bins were sealed with numeric pads.

That's certainly not going to fit into Ma'fan's personal storage, I thought, as I checked out the capsule.

My first walk-around had me touch the maglocks and pop open all the doors. By the time I came full circle around the room, the cat in question had her eyes locked on the piece of astronomical history.

"Too big," I heard her mutter, as she went to the first of the opened bins.

[G-Kellan: I need everybody inside, with Cayman bringing the portable large-scale scanner. There is a full-sized space capsule here.]

I started again with my circuit of the room, this time to check out the large items that Ma'fan had left behind. There were three NASA extra-vehicular activity suits, all which looked heavy and hard to carry. Each had the old-styled mirrored faceplate and the over-sized backpack. Collector's items, all of them. Too bad that nobody is left alive to sign them.

[T-Kia-Ma'fan: The space suits?, I sent off the question as I stared at myself in the mirrored faceplate. The rounded surface turned it into an imperfect reflection.

[T-Ma'fan-Kia: Also too big, stack them on the space capsule for when the large scanner comes., she sent back. I had already started to move once I understood the first words.

I went to the first one and picked it up around the middle. A long, waddling walk brought me through the door into the section where the capsule was. I put it down with as much grace as possible, then went back for the next.

[G-Winterhawk: No oversight? There are multiple contacts incoming. Cayman told me they were the Veil cleaners and the runners. AresSpace is on the way, but slower, and the UCAS black ops are co-ordinating with the military in regards to artillery. It looks like some people want everything related to these operations cleaned.]

[G-Kellan: The Shadowmech should have a drone or two. Just... Ask it to please deploy some, and have Mutus or Cayman monitor the exterior via them. Winterhawk - do what aura masking you can of the area, then cover the backs of Mutus and Cayman. Make sure everybody is out of sight and on the way down by the time the first new arrivals show up.]

Kellan gave some more instructions relating to the Shadowmech as I continued to lug the EVA suits to beside the space capsule. By the time I finished, Ma'fan had already completed emptying the bins of all that she could and was talking quietly with Kellan. Some large items were still left, so I started on those.

Less than a half-dozen round trips had me deposit the remaining items. They included some large Martian stones and a whole bone, about a meter and a half long, that looked like a giant femur.

I dusted off my hands on my armoured suit pants and joined the pair. "What's the situation?" I asked them.

"Waiting," Kellan replied. "We'll have to move fast once Cayman comes in here - snapping the large scanner together and putting everything in it." She adjusted her armoured jacket and I got a flash of her ever-present amulet underneath her blond hair. "Two minutes, if you want to use it."

I used the opportunity to wolf down a small energy bar. Not soy. I am so incredibly spoiled working with Umbrella.

Cayman and the others came in while I was finishing up. He was carrying a bound bundle of what looked like large, metal poles. He passed out the pieces and we all headed to the capsule room.

I got three lengths about as long as my chest was high. Kellan started to explain the next steps as we worked.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

3:55 AM, Storage facility underneath the Hoffman farm in Haggard, Kansas, UCAS.

The shadowrunners came in first. They were the easiest to fool - we were all incredulous about how a group composed of trolls got as far as they did. We changed our minds upon seeing them in close detail.

Every single one was chromed out like a tank and wielding some serious big iron. The group of five had some sort of military training as well, as they used hand signals to coordinate with each other. They stopped in the empty storage room. Empty, that is, except for the melted slag of metal that was the one-shot scanning system we had used around the space capsule and the other large items.

[G-Kellan: Activate it as soon as they are all in the killzone.]

Cayman gave a grunt of acknowledgement, focused on the visual feed the drone 'grenades' gave him. I think he was the only one that was not surprised when he mentioned them, stating only that "Mr. Umbrella had said every kind of grenade, right?"

We wisely did not ask about nuclear grenades, let alone more exotic types of energy.

My shared feed showed the trolls signalling each other about the scraped ground which led deeper into the silo, where we were. Cayman triggered the remote controlled grenades in sequence. The first batch was EMP pulses, designed to short out their cyberware. The second were 'jumping' spider grenades, which launched out of spots around the room onto the group, trailing thin wires on contact. Electrical convulsions soon followed.

They collapsed, still twitching, after more than ten seconds of high-intensity electricity.

[G-Kellan: Bag and tag 'em, we could use the guests.]

M'fan handed out some thin metal vials to myself and Mutus. We pocketed them both and jogged quickly back to the main storage room. The five trolls were already almost recovered, and were thrashing against their wire-based restraints.

We made it a routine: she would jab a troll with a charged heel spur and wrench open it's mouth, while I would pour the contents of a vial down their throat. We both together held their mouths shut. The result of the 'elixir' was that each one was knocked out cold and became lighter than air, and floated up to the ceiling.

Mutus and myself only stared at the first one in surprise - the rest were done with quick efficiency. She dragged them back with more wires, while I set up the grenades Cayman had given me earlier. I gave a thumbs up to the empty room and waited.

[G-Cayman: Grenades activating.]

Silently and immediately the space around me was plunged into darkness. Deeper magical darkness, if the details Cayman had told me were correct.

So that's what it looks like, I thought, and moved around. I literally could not see my hand in front of my face. I tried out a few different vision modes, including infra-vision, and each one came up with nothing.

With a shrug, I activated the darkvision option and everything came into focus again, if somewhat washed out.

[G-Kia: Time for the Veil cleaners?, I sent out to the group.

I received a reply of 'under a minute' and settled down to wait in the space between the door top and ceiling. Gecko grip surfaces on the bottom of my shoes made it comfortable, if awkward.

The first sign of the elite crew was the grenade that was tossed into the room underneath me.

Nice, I thought. Looks like a Ares high-explosive model.

I drew my Ares Predator and shot it with a series of glue-filled capsule bullets. It was covered with enough layers that by the time it was attached to the wall, I couldn't even tell if it went off or not. After about half a minute, their mage released a pair of manaballs into the opposite ends of the room. I was still safely near the entrance as he did it.

Nine members of the clean-up crew then entered the room in rapid sequence, each firing a full clip at a different angle. The spread was enough to fill every single part of the open space with lead, except right above the doorway. I'd laugh, except that I'm not that willing to tempt fate.

The darkness did not care about their wasted ammunition, absorbing the sound of the weapon fire and and the electrical activity of their comms. They all reloaded silently, without moving, apart from a tapping sequence they used on each other. Never thought I'd see the day that Morse code would be used in a combat situation.

The group started to spread out to all the corners of the room, weapons at the ready. When they were about halfway between the center and the walls, I shot them in the upper arms, twice each, and they fell to the ground. By the time the last one had dropped, the captain, I had done the same thing to the mage. He was the only one I had to move for, as he had stayed in the archive room.

I dragged out the unconscious bodies to the hallway leading to the silo, where Mutus and Cayman took over.

"Any news on the last batch?" I asked them quietly.

"Less than twenty minutes," Cayman replied, as he gave me a look. "Ops N would tell you the same thing."

I shrugged in apology and watched as they emptied another set of vials down the cleaning crew's throats. Lightened, they were dragged away at a fast jog. I returned to the room of darkness.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

4:37 AM, Storage facility underneath the Hoffman farm in Haggard, Kansas, UCAS.

The less said about the special ops agents from AresSpace, the better. They were hauled back to the already bagged stash of prisoners. Literally bagged. Each floating metahuman was encased in a large body bag, and looked like the most disturbing batch of balloons I've ever seen.

[G-Kia: Anything else? Or are we going to clear out?, I asked the group. I was glad to get some action, even if there was nobody to really show it off to.

Kellan turned to face me, and stepped over the body bag ropes. They were small, black cords, each the same colour as what they attached to. We skipped the camouflage bags - for now.

[G-Kellan: We're good. Anything else have anything to think of?, she sent to me silently, less than a pace away. She checked past me to the hallway leading to the storage room, as if she could see or sense anything missing.

A lot of negatives followed, when Cayman held up his cyber hand.

[G-Cayman: We've got problems. Bunker busters incoming.] He picked up his grenade launcher, and started to walk back towards the storage room.

[G-Kellan: Ops N...?, Kellan sent out while he had just passed me. He shook his head at the question.

[G-Cayman: It was overplayed. When the electronic artillery kept on screwing up, along with the communications, they went old tech - hard copy printed orders, face to face, and mechanical artillery and multi-stage chemical explosives. Antiques, sure, but they work. Work enough to penetrate down to here. Shockwave would pulp us - right after the fires sucked the air from our collapsed lungs.]

[G-Kellan: You're going to collapse the area first, then?]

[G-Cayman: Yep.]

She stood there, hands on her hips, and stared at his retreating back. "Hey!" She shouted, and he tilted his head to the side to see her. "You are not moving FAST ENOUGH, you drekky sarariman!" He started sprinting with the encouragement, and she turned back to us.

"Winterhawk, with me," she said, addressing the ever-stylish mage. His one concession to heavier protection was that all his clothing seemed to be especially thick. "We'll work on some armouring and reinforcing spells. I still have some spirits, so..." Her words cut off and she snapped her head back to look at the rest of us. "Drag them all to the far exit point and return back to the middle section. Got it?"

I didn't bother to reply, and instead I grabbed about a third of the body bag balloons and headed out at a high-paced jog.

Bases loaded. Pitcher wants to skrag you. Balls are made of HE rounds. What do you do, chummer? WHAT DO YOU DO?

Only one thing to do. I grinned, and ran faster.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

5:09 AM, Shadowmech Stealth Jet, in-flight transit on the way to the Seattle metroplex, UCAS.

This run blooded us. It might have just came from Kellan, Winterhawk and Cayman, but at the end, there was plenty on everyone. Some personal elixirs helped stabilize them, and we didn't mind so much giving it to them when their arms were functionally broken. Even if the bones were intact, when the skin comes off and the muscle strands are exposed... What do you call that, 'wounded'?

Functionally broken is much more accurate.

It was about four vials worth before any of them could make the effort for themselves. Another two before all the various injuries stopped seeping. Past that point, I assigned myself to 'grenade fragments in the eyes' duty.

Kellan, along with assorted discarded pieces of her, lay on the reclined chair and the ground around us. I kept hold of her newly regenerated hand. It looked slightly more pink than the other one, though both had sustained a large degree of damage. In fact, I think the only parts of her that had not bled from a cause or another were covered underneath her main body armour.

"No more," Kellan sniffled, "I'm not going to lose any more. Ever..."

Kellan had a lot of grenade fragments in her eyes. I might have had some too, by the end.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

6:54 AM, Sanctum via the Seattle metroplex, UCAS. Mike/Sanctum POV.

"So," I began, "I'd like to hear in your own words, what went wrong that could have been prevented. This isn't remotely about punishment, but awareness. Those that are punished seek to avoid such, while learning experiences can be even sought out." I paused, and laced my fingers together. "Or is that logic flawed?"

This was a after-action report interview with Kellan. She had enough time to heal, freshen up and pull herself together.

"No, Mr. Umbrella," she replied, "it is perfectly accurate." Her fingers stroked her amulet, reassuring herself that it was still there. We both waited in silence. "As far as things on the magical level go," she continued, "everything went as intended until the point of collapse. My spirits performed well, and... Overload. Did the best out of a situation that escalated."

"How did it get there?" I prompted her. My hands were relaxed on the desk between us.

"Time," she said. "We took too long, and relied too much on Ops N to pick up the slack. Furthermore," she grimaced, "we were too greedy in wanting to acquire all those teams."

"I'd paint things differently, Kellan." I leaned back in my comfy black leather chair and focused on the blond. "Compare the approach you took with Bloodwing and these three teams. What would have happened if they were reversed?"

"We were proactive with Bloodwing, and waited in the bunker for the teams to come to us," she replied, and she lit up with the ideas. "If we had waited for that elven assassin, anything could have really happened. We didn't even need to get the three teams - they were an extra bonus. We could have invisibly tagged their vehicles and pursued them at our leisure."

"Kellan," I said, with a small smile, "I believe you would have figured everything out by yourself or with a chat with your teammates, especially Cayman. I could say that your attitude towards Bloodwing played towards your strengths, while this one did not. Please have an informal group discussion in the waiting room about what works, what doesn't, and so on. Alright?"

"Sure, Mr. Umbrella." She gave me a smile of her own, and pushed back her chair. With a light wave, she left back into the room with the others.

No resurrections needed for this run, I thought. It was better that they get wounded in these small doses. Considering Kellan's past was that of 'learning through pain,' this would be a powerful lesson indeed. Perhaps they can do with some light duties today.

A thought pulled a phone out of my hammer-space and I swiped it active. Another button press connected me to Taylor's.

"Hey Mike," she greeted me before I said anything. "Going to have me watch over some of the locals?"

"Something like that," I replied. "How do you feel about touching base with the Marquis here? Get a lay of the land, first impressions of his setup?"

"Sounds fine. Your dream team managing okay?" She asked me with a tone of concern.

"Yeah," I said, but finished it with a long sigh. "I keep on forgetting that each of them has come from a far from pain-free past - some more than others. I wouldn't go so far as to expect them to manage torture without flinching, but they are already forming up to be a hardy, professional team. I hope that... That they will be able to accept everything here. Otherwise I'd just be left with a different version of Faultline's Crew to say goodbye to, but with one I put more thought and effort into."

"Hmm," she replied. "Give it time - or an appropriate emergency. They already know you can raise the dead, live in a separate plane of existence and can grant powers on a whim. I think they will be pretty open to lots of 'alternate' life styles."

I laughed at the thought, and she joined me.

"Thanks Tay," I said into the phone, after we had both recovered. "So... Nine hours from now good? It will give you enough time to assemble your forces, as well as give the team a good rest."

She replied in the affirmative and we exchanged some more pleasantries before hanging up.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mid-afternoon, Tacoma district, Seattle metroplex, UCAS. Kia POV.

From my talks with the others, we've all had contacts plague us about the Umbrella Import Group. Or, more correctly, the 'Umb... What?'

It's gotten to be enough of a joke between us that we'd do a full confession to each inquiry, detailing our hiring, the contract perks, and as many 'secrets' as we can imagine. Their responses could also be summed up in one word: "what?" They didn't manage to hear anything.

I'm glad we were on this side of the fence, as it must be excruciating for the corps to not even have a location to send runners to.

"Hey, Mutus?" I asked the blue-hair tinted elf. We were all doing an impromptu weapons inspection and maintenance routine in the main waiting room. It had been expanded in size since the first time we showed up.

"Hmm?" She replied, barely looking up from her altered rifle. While I might have recognized the original model by the simple process of searching up the most expensive sniper rifle in production, it rapidly gained features from so many other weapons that I no longer knew what to call it.

"I'm getting that you're happy about... Yourself, and all that implies?"

She had a flash of a smirk on her face as she glanced at Ma'fan, but was otherwise impassive. "Yeah," she replied. "You could say that."

I sighted down my heavy pistol at a table corner. Truthfully, this thing is so durable I don't know what else I could with it.

"Anybody want to talk powers?" I asked the assembled quiet bunch. I can't imagine anything other than polishing being done to these weapons. In fact, that was what Mutus, Ma'fan and Kellan were all doing. Winterhawk was reading an old fashioned book, while Cayman was consulting his computer pad and going back and forth between some heavy weapons leaned against his chair.

Nobody volunteered, so I started it off. Hopefully I won't be stuck looking like a twinkie when nobody else added to it.

"Mine are both related to time," I started, holstering my pistol inside my jacket. "The more draining one is 'Time Stop,' while the other lesser ability was referred to as 'Bullet Time.' Each is self explanatory."

I panned over the group, seeing if anybody would take a bite. The only one who looked interested was Kellan.

"How long does it last, Kia?" She asked me, her own weapon put down. "The 'time stop' effect, I mean."

I rolled my neck back and forth, considering. "Somewhere between five and ten seconds, I think," I replied, and thought back over the times I've used it. "Never really had a reason to push it."

Kellan pulled out a pack of cards and slid it across the table to me. "Want to?" She asked me, a smile ghosting over her lips. "If we want to have a proper power demo, that is."

The others had looked up from their make busy work with curious gazes sent my way. None of them seemed really enthralled by the idea, but it was enough to pull them away from 'weapon polishing.'

"Sure," I replied, and opened up the card deck. "I'll need more than one pack of cards, then." While I sorted the cards by suit and number, another two packs came my way.

"Ready?" I asked them, cards held in my hands. Kellan nodded and the others made sounds of agreement.

Time Stop. The more-than-mental command echoed in my mind, and reality seemed to freeze around me. In a convenient defiance of normal physics, I could still move, breathe, see, and was not torn apart by random flecks of air borne particulate matter.

I immediately placed a series of cards, standing on their edges, on the hands, shoulders and heads of everybody else. I then started to rapidly begin to assemble a house of cards - much easier without gravity interfering.

I stopped the effect once my vision began to blacken at the edges, and put the remaining cards in an air-borne arc.

The full reaction from the others was missed, as I had slumped forward in sudden weakness. The cards flowed around me from the table-top.

Twenty-eight and a half seconds, I thought. Very wavy.

Their faces were a lot more interested when I pulled myself up again.

With my introduction, everyone else took a turn. Ma'fan had the already known and popular 'hammer-space,' useful for storing items, a gaseous form which could go through even the smallest openings and 'epic improved invisibility.'

Mutus had a very focused, but extremely convenient ability based around visual perception - unlimited range normal sight, as well as limited versions of matter penetration vision and the incorporation of multiple modes in one, such as infravision, and surgical overlays on living beings. It was how she found the entrance to the bunker this morning, through a few layers of walls and flooring.

Ma'fan's, Kellan's and Winterhawk's upgrades were also tied to their Awakened abilities, granting them both near unlimited use of their personal magics as well as boosting them to what would be past their normal limits.

When it was Cayman's turn, he said only "I'm strong." He caved in under our stares, and slowly pinched a piece of metal off the edge of the table. He then rolled it between the fingers of his normal hand and flicked it. The sound of the impromptu pellet's passage through the air was only superseded by the sharp 'crack' it made as it was embedded in the wall.

We made sounds of appreciation, which he only acknowledged with a small quirk of his lips.

Some more hours till we get to meet another high up person in Umbrella - Taylor, I thought. I wonder what she will be like?

I still had to pick up the cards, though.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Early evening, Tacoma district, Seattle metroplex, UCAS.

Taylor surprised me on many levels. I think she did the same for Kellan and Mutus, though the assassin hid it perfectly if so.

The juvie had this strange way of interacting with the world. She apparently paid absolutely no attention to what was going on around her, but acted otherwise. Pot holes were stepped over while talking to any one of us; stains, spills and slimes were avoided while staring at the sky.

I had to ask the question that was on likely on our minds.

"Taylor?" My question had her head half-turn my way. "Are you doing that on purpose?"

"Doing what, Kia?" She asked me, and turned back to face me. She walked backwards while waiting for my answer.

Taylor was dressed in some sort of corp casual silk clothing set. It had matching slacks, slip-on shoes, dress shirt and an open light jacket. All of them were a light, pastel coloured mix of colours. A muted rainbow, in other words.

I gestured at her and all around us. "Your... Absolute sensory awareness. It's like you don't even look where you're going."

She closed her eyes and continued to walk backwards. She kept silent, even when skips and hops were needed to bypass road conditions.

"Yes and no," she finally replied, with a half smile at me. She turned back to the front. "You've gotten some... Perks... From Umbrella, right? Kia, Kellan, Mutus?"

We each responded in the positive as our name came up. She didn't immediately reply.

I used the silence to scan around us, though Mutus was designated our primary oversight. Her own boosted sensory powers helped in that role. Nothing special was around here. Some light traffic, gutterpunks. Some cars passed by on the street and the odd aerial vehicle zipped by overhead.

This was a half-decent area of an equally decent district, so it was not as high risk as the Barrens.

"I had my own perks before I met him, though it was less than a month at that point." She lightly laughed, and her hair shook side to side. "A lot of things happened, and now my perk is on the up and up. I'll only say the range as a point of reference - roughly eight miles around me."

I stumbled for a half second and recovered without issue. She wagged a finger off to the side.

"Range of what, Taylor?" Kellan asked her before I could.

"Ah," she replied, still faced forward. "That would be over-sharing at this point. I'll just say that one of the reasons I'm not with your group is because it would make things too easy. I'm one of your backup options, actually." She turned around to face us again. "Though I doubt you'd request me without knowing, of course." She gave a nod to Kellan and turned back to the front.

"And here we are," Taylor said, as she walked up to a white fronted building. The lettering read 'Noble Bones,' and looked to be made out of faux ivory. "Come on up into this hive of scum and villainy, why don't you?"

...

Some of the hugest trolls and chromed up street samurai's moved out of the way of Taylor. They didn't even bother directing her as they shifted places. Much like she was on the streets outside, everything was done with absolute confidence.

I felt rather extraneous, but internally admitted it was a far better feeling than terror or any other like intensities.

We eventually arrived at a double door of textured white ivory.

Must be artificial, I thought. Then the doors were opened in unison by the standing guards, and a sea of beige and cream colours greeted us. Where in the small building there were the odd white items - carpets, pictures, sculptures and so on - here they were everywhere.

A lone man, middle aged looking but with a full head of white hair, was seated in an over-sized white leather chair behind an equally white desk. The only other person was a blond, glasses wearing man who had on an almost colourful corp styled getup. His appearance jarred with the room - much like our own.

She sat down without invitation at one of chairs in front of his desk, and waved at us to do the same.

"Relax," she said, focused on the man behind the desk. "We're among friends here - right?" It was phrased as a question and challenge of sorts, but he replied only with a polite nod.

I seated myself and missed the first words of their exchange, apart from the name 'Marquis.' Kellan looked around the room, likely trying to appraise any of the magical items. Mutus kept almost completely focused on the the blond man - perhaps she saw something in him I missed.

"How's Amelia?" Taylor asked him, all but sprawled over her own chair.

"She's content," he replied, his poised attitude, suit and positioning all aligned with an air of professionalism. "Things have gone better between us than with her mother, at least. We formally parted on good terms a while back."

"No serious complaints then?" Taylor continued. "Enough time to see her, especially given the distance involved?"

I didn't quite get the reasoning behind the emphasis there. Considering Rainbow had access to transforming spacecraft and portals, how far away could this guy's daughter be?

"Plenty, thank you." He smiled, and it appeared to be one of the more genuine expressions since we came in here. "Access to Rubikon has given us as much as we could want. And yourself, Taylor? Are you open to sharing any of your own difficulties - perhaps some of which align with my own interests?"

"Personal issues, mostly." She pulled out a folded piece of paper from inside her light jacket and placed it on the white desk between them. He smoothed it out, and placed a small, ivory-styled weight on each side.

Marquis looked at the three of us before he turned back to Taylor. While he did so, the paper was handed to his associate, who merely glanced at it before putting it in an inner coat pocket.

"I'll have some of the more obvious areas passed your way within a week," he spoke, which was confirmed further by the other's nod. "Is there anything else I could do for you, Taylor?"

"Not so much," she replied, and briefly glanced at the three of us. "How are your operations going?"

"Still winding up, I'm afraid. There are signs of some inner turmoil among the larger operations, but to truly impact them, well..." He shrugged. "It will take time and a delicate touch. Number manipulation helps, too, of course."

She paused to reflect on that.

"Mutus, Kia?" Taylor addressed the two of us. It would be the first time we had been mentioned since we all entered this building. The elf made an unspoken sound of inquiry, while I merely directed my face her way.

"Could you two please tell the Marquis here your effective combat abilities and... Associated standards?"

Mutus went first. She roughly covered her training as an assassin, as well as a brief run-over of her professional code of conduct. The cream-coloured suited man made appropriate noises of appreciation, but was otherwise silent through the whole retelling. It was then my turn.

"Hey there," I began, my sales-like pitch toned down to match the atmosphere. "I am a master heavy pistol trick-shooter, and can talk a good talk. As far as my own philosophy goes... Sometimes the best way to make the world a better place comes with the assistance of a bullet - though I do keep under consideration the long-term consequences of said bullets."

"Very true," he murmured with a smile, and turned back to Taylor. "How would you rate his abilities in regards to my accountant here, Taylor?" He indicated the blond man with a tilt of his head.

"Superior if prepped and using Rainbow's perks," she replied. "Otherwise, he'd be able to keep up with mild difficulty - but that's it."

I looked at the 'accountant' in a new light, and so too did the Marquis examine me in the same way.

"Is there willingness towards...?" He indicated the three of us and then himself. Taylor opted not to answer.

"Mutus, Kia," Marquis began, "do you happen to have any objections to improving the world via the selective permanent removal of members of criminal organizations?"

"Not at all," I replied, "provided both the selective and criminal traits were assured, of course." Mutus echoed a reply along the same lines. Truthfully, my own reply was a substantial stretch. Most of my 'world improvements' had been done on a case-by-case basis, and the Marquis here seemed to imply something much more wide-scaled. I could imagine Mutus arguing the same thing, but her comments would fall into the 'hitman versus assassin' argument.

"I'll keep that in mind, then." He offered Taylor a polite nod, which she returned. "Is there anything more I can assist you with?"

"Maybe the other way around," she replied, and I saw a flash of a fierce grin on her face. "Could you perhaps give me a nice walking path map back to Umbrella? About a hour long, and very, very quiet?"

His grin remained visible much longer.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Late evening, Sanctum. Mike/Sanctum POV.

"Hey Tay!" I said, and gave a smile to the Taylor that let me into her suite.

"Hey yourself, Mike," she replied with a matching smile, and walked further into the back rooms. She was wearing what appeared to be a silk set of pink pajamas, pants and shirt. They were likely made by one of her many insect crafting species.

We stopped at her main living room, where two other Taylors were sitting on a couch. The third joined them, then pointed to one of the side bedrooms.

Ah, I thought, she must have already set up there.

I knocked on the door and heard a faint 'come in,' which was echoed by the couch bound Taylors.

"I already set up," the prone Taylor said, from her elbow propped up position. She was half covered by a thick sheet over her back, and what I could see of her torso front was obscured by some sort of stick-on brassiere.

"Thanks," I replied, and flopped down beside her head. Some adjustments on my part put me near eye level with her. "What were you thinking for today? Thai, Swedish, Lomi Lomi, deep tissue or...?" I left the question open ended. We had gone through a number of different massage techniques, and skill downloading made the whole process rather simple.

"Full body relaxation," as she relaxed face first into the mound of supports. Her muffled voice continued afterwards, "could you use the oil bottle named... Red... Ah... Red number four?"

"Sure," I replied, and inspected the side table where the bottles were kept. The 'red' line was the colour of its namesake, and was sorted by number as well. I picked it up and put it beside her, and knelt into my own cushion pile.

I adjusted the sheet over her, extending it to shoulder level, and began a light rocking process. "How have you been, Tay?" I worked up and down her spinal column. "It's been a few days, but... Bugs and all."

She made a retching sound in reply. "I'm still really pissed off about them," she began, her voice already speaking in a soft murmur. "I managed to pick up a spider shaman and spirit - both murderous psychopaths - and am debating what to do with them. Their one saving grace is that they don't appear to be from the common soul-devouring hive world that the regular insect spirits come from."

I made some contemplative sounds as I worked down her nearest leg. "You'd know what I'd ask you in reply, right Tay?" I interrupted my routine to poke her in the thigh a few times.

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled, and her words turned into relaxed sighs. "Either get rid of them or make them useful - by their own choice. Throw in some binding oaths while I'm at it."

"Some more options there," I said, and went around her calf in repetitive motions. "You don't have to be that nice about it."

She murmured into the supports around her.

"What do you think about finally having your own minions?" I asked her, after I crawled beside her feet. Her ankles seemed stiff today.

"Mmm... Weird..." She stayed silent for a measure of time, only making unintelligible sounds as I worked on her foot.

"Do I need to be a 'bad cop' for you...?" I asked. Her toes reminded me of the whole 'little piggies' rhyme, but I resisted saying it, as well as tickling her.

She let out a muffled, throaty laugh. "No, I've got that settled really well. Nothing excessively humiliating, but... Yeah."

I worked on the sole of her foot, and my thumbs kneaded along the deeper tendons. We all had enough basic enhancements that muscle tension would be more due to stress than than damage. Our arranged sessions occurred frequently enough that she didn't seem to accumulate much.

Some joint work and light shaking finished off her leg, and I switched over to the other side.

"Bigger plans on the horizon, Tay?"

She mumbled for a while before putting her words into a coherent form. "I'd like to purge the whole Seattle metroplex of insect spirits... Then Chicago... And the world."

"I'll support you in that," I said, and lightly kneaded her thigh. "You know that. What do you need to make it happen?"

"Some disposable time-line usage, really," she replied. "Topped with you not being annoyed if a whole bunch of so-called 'people' end up missing or dead."

"No objections here," I said. "Finally made up your mind about leaving them there is a worse fate for the world than taking them out? I recall you waffling about it." I bent her leg back, and worked around the knee.

"Yeah..." She sighed, and I looked up at her. The normally long hair was pinned up against her head, which left her neck free. A rare sight, if practical at times. "I'll need to do something dramatic in the quarantined city as well, otherwise nobody will believe the insect spirits and infected are all gone. The Ares corp is likely to do something stupid, too." She grumbled at the idea.

We exchanged further small talk as I finished off her second leg and worked on her arms. She shifted the ambiance when I was about to work on the back and neck.

It started with a little bottle called 'Pink Sixty-Four.' While 'Red' was easily described as 'warming,' no such details were provided for this new, dropper-based bottle.

"Let's just shift positions a bit," she told me, and had us both move so that my back was supported by the bedroom wall and she was able to comfortably straddle me. In the interests of a mutual agreement around 'decency,' she was still clad in a sort of glue on, thick underwear that was very specific in where it was located. As far as size went, well... It was somewhere between a two-piece swimsuit and band-aids.

On my side, all I had were light slacks, polo shirt and slippers. Our positioning was... Very comfortable. I won't elaborate on all the reasons why.

Only when we were together, quiet, for some minutes did she prompt me about the bottle.

"Spread one drop over the palm of your right hand using the cap," she said, her quiet voice accompanied by her breath on my ear. "Do not drip any of it, anywhere."

Some instructions later, I had one very immobile hand pressed against her back. It took her minutes to be able to do anything other than shake uncontrollably.

"What's the story behind Pink Sixty-Four, Tay?" I whispered into her shivering form's ear.

"Shut up," she replied, flushed and nearly hyperventilating. "Don't... Ask... Stupid... Questions."

It took another two hours to simply finish her bare back and neck. No official buzzer went off, but when she passed out - that was it, in my mind. I gently peeled her excessively warm form off my own - glued-on clothes still attached to her, of course - and replaced her under the sheet.

"Sleep well, Tay," I chuckled, as I headed out of the bedroom. The three other Taylors were not in sight.

We both dealt with restraint in different ways. I didn't begrudge her hers. After all, I had to amp up my own avatar's suppression a few notches from the recently exited 'completely normal massage.' On my end? Well... She had biomanipulative formulas. I had cubic kilometers of sub-demiplanes of living flesh whose activity I kept heavily in the dimension of denial. The relaxation of my own suppression was being constantly redirected.

I'm not going to check the birthday count-down calendar again... Till tomorrow morning.

1.6 - "Welcome to My Mountain Lair"

Monday, August 27rd, 2057, 7:13 PM (Shadowrun calendar). Sanctum, proximate to Seattle metroplex entrance. Kia's POV.

I was re-reading the message on my Umbrella supplied computer pad, much like everyone else here.

[GREETINGS! Your reputation precedes you. Street buzz says you're the best. I can offer you a chance to prove it for top pay. Interested? Meet me at La Maison D'Indochine tomorrow at 20:00. R.S.V.P. by 12:00 tomorrow, LTG 1206(43-9683) mailbox 001]

It arrived yesterday, by some back-channel manipulation and other processes likely known only to Ops N. Kellan made the call to accept it, and had already RSVP-ed earlier today. We then received a follow-up message in the same manner.

[Please dress in suitable attire, and ask for the table reserved for Smithson. I will expect you promptly at 20:00.]

The LTG mailbox was part of a public, pay-per-use, e-mail service that clients call in to in order to retrieve messages. That very particular mailbox belonged to 'John Doe XVII.' Needless to say, a full dossier was provided on the Johnson involved. She was Mary Falls, owner of a corp by the same name. There was also the hints of an opportunity for a lucrative alliance with UIG, and we intended to play that up too. We had already gone over all the details, forwards and backwards, and were just killing time before heading out to the restaurant.

I had upgraded my suit to a more professional standard, along with everyone else. Cayman still looked like an Urban Brawl player, but at least he tried. It was different for Winterhawk, whose normal flair was seemingly downgraded when he put on a regular suit. The ladies were all wiz, though I couldn't decide whether the flash of blue in Mutus' hair added or detracted to her dressy ensemble.

"I'm finding it really enjoyable," I started, as I checked out my fellow runners. "How we literally know more about the biz wanted by the Johnson before we even meet them." A murmur of agreement came from around me.

"Cayman," I said to the arctic street samurai, "you still double checking sources provided by Ops N?"

"Yeah," he replied, not in the least bothered by a neck tie that had to be all but strangling him. "Keeps me in practice."

Very true, I thought.

"Alright," Kellan said, as she slid out of her seat. She made a slight adjustment of her body-hugging black dress before she turned back to us. "Ms. Johnson wants to impress us, so we better not scrag up our plans to reverse that - right, Kia?"

"Got it, chummer," I replied, with a mock salute.

"Let's head out, then," she said. With last spot checks among all of us, we left the familiar waiting room for the battlegrounds of fast talk and con games.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Same day, 7:54 PM. La Maison d'Indochine, Seattle metroplex, UCAS.

My impressions of the restaurant's exterior was that of a place that reeked of wealth and sophistication. Bright lights and pink awnings clearly separated it from the grungy exteriors of scruffy bars and the tasteless decor of Stuffer Shacks.

[G-Kellan: Your up, Kia., Kellan sent from beside me, as I took point. The group was attempting to act corp casual - a bunch of high-rollers out for a night at a wiz place. They weren't doing too bad.

A push opened the polished oak front doors, and I stepped up the short marble staircase. It was a concealed magnetic-anomaly detector - a means to scan incoming restaurant clients for weapons - but it was already under the control of Ops N. I resisted the impulse to laugh out loud, though a quick smirk may have shown up.

I drank in the sight of the interior. The restaurant is a small place, but nothing about it gave off the impression of being crowded or cramped. Golden chandeliers hung from the high ceiling; live palm trees and bamboo plants stood in pots made of a natural looking blue stone, evenly spaced along the walls. There was a holographic stage off to the right, which hosted some rather impressive scenery that I recognized as a coming from tourist hot-spots in Southeast Asia. Some elves were on the stage, and they played their string instruments to provide a rather smooth sounding background vibe to the whole place.

That whole process took seconds, and I walked up to the maitre d's podium. She was tall, slender, drop-dead gorgeous and an easy stalling method for any number of quiet alarms to work their magic in the background. She stopped typing on her Fuchi P100 tabletop computer as I came closer.

She flipped long, glossy, black curls over her shoulder and asked politely, "How may I help you, ladies, gentlemen?"

"Reserved table for Smithson for eight o'clock," I replied, as I carefully maintained a bland, polite smile.

She went back to her computer and typed at it briefly. The confirmation of our reservation was revealed when she put on her own professional smile and pleasantly said, "Right this way, please."

We followed her to the far right corner private booth and left. Our 'Mr. Johnson' was a woman in her mid-thirties, dressed head to feet in blue-and-gray corporate chic. She gave us a once-over as soon as we were visible, but did not show any other overt interest. Her brown hair was sleeked back into a chignon styled bun, and she wore a pair of round, black-rimmed spectacles. If she lost the corp look and dressed for a night on the town, she'd be quite attractive.

"Kia," I said to her, and indicated myself. The others did the same, though our host merely said the typical "Mr. Johnson" the first time.

"Please, have a seat." she said, indicating the chairs around the large, round table. She specifically did not point to the couch she sat on, that was integrated into the dividing partition, but Mutus and Ma'fan went there anyways. Cayman sat at the farthest corner, while Winterhawk, Kellan and myself spaced ourselves more evenly on the loose chairs.

Ma'fan attempted to engage Mr. Johnson, but was politely brushed off. She wanted us to have dinner first.

I had no objections - especially once the security details came pouring in from Ops N. I hid my smile behind a glass of water.

This is going to be a great meal, I thought to myself. The after-dinner conversation will likely be even moreso.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

9:24 PM.

'Mr. Johnson' only turned serious once we had pushed back our plates. I internally applauded Cayman's self-control, while the others used our internal group chat to be more vocal about it. The hard guy's face barely twitched in response.

"Let's get down to business," she said. "The party I represent has sought you out because of your unmatched skills and record of successes. I have a job for you, if you're interested. It requires a lot of travel and pays extremely well - in fact, more than you've ever received for a single assignment. And it is very, very important to my client. Would you like to hear more?"

We all made sounds of agreement, focused on her. She carefully eyed each of us in turn.

"Before I continue," she said, "I must warn you that the information you are about to hear is strictly confidential. If you hear me out and then turn me down, I will take all necessary precautions to ensure that this information does not fall into the wrong hands. I think you know what I mean, so we'll say no more about it."

I internally applauded the restraint of my team members, not rising to the bait of mocking such an empty threat.

"For the past few years, my client's company has been working on a product known as the AFD. To develop it, the company entered into a joint venture with Molokai Microtronics, also called 2M, in the independent Kingdom of Hawai'i. Molokai researched the project in their labs. Two weeks ago, representatives of both companies met at 2M's corporate offices in Honolulu to discuss progress. An efficient assault team showed up and assassinated everyone present - and at the same time, someone raided the AFD research lab. So 2M claims, at least. According to their story, the raiders either stole or destroyed all the AFD prototypes and data files, and murdered all personnel working on the AFD. Molokai Microtronics told my client that because the raids occurred on its property, it would take full responsibility for the investigation. My client agreed to this, but wants some assurance that 2M is dealing straight."

"Your street reputations and track records have led my client to believe that you are the right people to do the job. On my client's behalf, I want you to go to Hawai'i and investigate the raid on 2M and, if possible, retrieve the AFD prototypes and data files. Unfortunately, my client does not know the location of 2M's laboratory. Company operatives, however, should be able to get you into 2M's corporate offices. The company will also provide you with cover identities, and I will personally see that you are adequately equipped for the mission. If you take this job, I can give you 10,000 nuyen each up front and another 50,000 nuyen apiece upon completion."

Her spiel completed, she leaned back against the couch and turned her round, black-rimmed spectacles over all of us.

My turn.

"Mr. Johnson," I began, "you've presented the bare bones of the operation. We personally pride ourselves on going vastly above and beyond basic operational requirements. With that said, I want to make it abundantly clear that we had already accepted your run nearly the moment it arrived as a message." I waited for some form of acknowledgement. She eventually nodded, cautiously.

"Along those lines, we employed unconventional resources to compile information on yourself, the company you represent, the situation at Hawai'i, and our most likely expectation of what the overall run itself would consist of." I paused for some breaths to allow the significance of what I said to sink in. "Are you interested in what we are capable of, or did you want more... Normal operatives?"

"Bold words, Kia," she replied, and folded her arms underneath the table. Likely to be able to press her restaurant supplied, wristband-mounted 'panic button' if needed. "But I have yet to hear any proof."

This time I allowed myself to smile as I spoke, "Front staircase magnetic-anomaly detector. Ten guards in the front of the restaurant behind hidden wall panels. Wristbound panic button. Two guards on the security monitors. Trap door hidden in the floor here." I audibly tapped the ground with a foot. "Eight guards in the private room below us. The retinal pattern of a certain company's chief of security added to the restaurant files. Hard Corps Security for astral protection, with a Force Four Watcher Spirit on site."

Her breathing rate deepened as I recited each term. When I stopped, she looked around at us, casually, as if to assess her odds in this situation. If this was an extraction, she'd be scragged by now.

"You've gotten a lot more nuyen for jobs than what I'm offering, haven't you?" She finally asked me, her composure somewhat restored.

"Yes, we have," I replied.

"And this isn't an extraction or... Cleaning?" She continued, the first tiniest tinge of fear evident in her voice.

"Absolutely not," I said. "My only personal objection to the situation is having to call you Mister Johnson. Everything else is accurate on our end."

"Why, what would you prefer to call me?" She asked, a hint of a smile and arched eyebrow present behind her round spectacles.

"As tempting an opening as that question is, Mister Johnson," I replied, "the only answer I can professionally say is this: anything you want."

We stared at each other in silence.

[G-Cayman: 100 nuyen says she drops the facade., Cayman said into group chat.

[G-Ma'fan: No way! A corp lady like her? Hard all the way!, Ma'fan replied.

At least we were outwardly silent. I added my own offer into the betting pool and waited.

"Fine," she said with a deflated sigh, "you can call me Ms. Johnson. Other than that - I'm really interested in what intelligence you've managed to pick up."

"Of course, Ms. Johnson," I said with a more genuine smile. I silently messaged Ma'fan, and she pulled out a leather document folio and passed it to our host. "In there you will find a large chunk of what we have already looked up. A number of details, such as your name, company and so on, have been... Mostly blacked out... But are not important to the up-coming operation."

I saw flashes of blackened text and photos as she flipped through the pages.

"A certain company," I began, as I stared a bit off to the side of our host, Mary Falls, "came across a certain lucky decker. They did some work together. That work ended when he died connected to the Matrix - his luck had run out. That company then believed they found an ideal partner in the Hawai'i-based Molokai Microtronics. However, as you can read, they proved to be less than ideal."

Visible anger marred the face of Mary, and some pages had their edges crushed as she looked at them. She did not reply to my story.

"Within six months, 2M had succeeded - but their top management betrayed that certain company to Mitsuhama Computer Technologies," I continued, as I silently tapped my fingers on the white cloth covered table. "They were totally willing to have MCT erase their very own workers, along with those from that certain company, while they stole all the AFD prototypes and data. That is the normal story - now it gets even more complicated."

"A double agent for MCT and ALOHA - who was led by a feathered serpent named Naheka - in turn set up the MCT operatives to all be killed," I said. "They gathered up the data and prototypes, and used the double agent to explain away the situation to MCT. In the mean time, 2M gets to make polite drekky noises to that certain company."

"Now then, Ms. Johnson," I started, focused on her black-rimmed spectacles, "what do you think about my little story and that stack of paper in front of you?"

She closed the leather folio in a state of carefully controlled anger and said, "Who... Who are you people? How can you put all this together - in one day?!"

"Like I said, Ms. Johnson - we're people that aim to go above and beyond normal expectations. We're also interested in 'fighting the good fight' - as drekky as that sounds - and you've given us a fantastic opportunity there. Beyond that - if you are interested in playing in the major leagues - I am authorized to share some small details and make some minor agreements." I adjusted my chair and straightened out my dress shirt. "However, there is one starting concession before we do so."

"Which would be what, Kia?" She asked me, warily.

"Just your name, Ms. Johnson," I said. "Consider it a show of good faith and a sign of appreciation for our preparation efforts. What do you say?"

"I say you are being unprofessional, Kia," she replied, with a smirk. "I'm tempted to ask whether you are asking on your own behalf."

"That's the thing about temptation, Ms. Johnson - it often leads to interesting places." I drew small circles on the table top with a finger, and gave her a small smile back.

She let out a deep, sultry laugh and seemingly relaxed more than she had been at any time during this dinner. It swiftly faded back into her professional persona, but it seemed more at ease even so.

"All right," she said. "We've had our fun. You all sound much more than reasonably competent in being able to handle the run. Apart from nuyen, what are you looking for?"

"We'll get there, Ms. Johnson - no worries," I replied, and smoothed out the white table cloth. "Now, assuming that my earlier little story and that stack of paper are even remotely true - without even considering the possibility of what is realistic or possible - what is your absolute highest expectations out of this run? Let's see if you can give us an impossible challenge for the little islands of Hawai'i."

Mary Falls did just that.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tuesday, August 28th, 2057, 12:28 AM. Shadowmech Suborbital, on approach to Honolulu city, Oahu island, Independent Kingdom of Hawai'i.

"Impossible challenge, Kia?" Kellan said, as she shook her head.

"Yeah, I heard it the first hundred times from each of you," I replied, as I stared out a window. "I also said that she would be even more impressed if we managed to pull it off and I am totally willing to do the drekky work."

"You want to impress her that much, chummer?" She asked me, and stepped close to look out as well.

"Nah," I hand waved the insinuation away, "she's already got the corp taint." I glanced at her before returning my focus outside. "I keep on getting the feeling that we are aiming too low with these runs. That's the best thing about impossible goals - it gives us something to aim for, and nobody would be surprised if we fail. If we succeed, though..." I let loose a small laugh. "We can start to be one of the few teams that regularly goes through suicide runs without..." I flashed back to an image of Kellan all bloody and my enthusiasm faded. "Yeah. As long as we are smart about it, right?"

"Right," she replied. "How long are the rest of them going to take in Hong Kong, you think?"

I shrugged, and replied, "It depends on how long it takes for them to nab those Molokai Microtronics VIPs. They left before we did, so can get back at any time - especially considering that they got another Shadowmech." I reseated myself, but didn't bother to buckle in. "How are you with splitting the group?"

She sat across from me at the same time, and propped her head up in a pose of mock serious contemplation. "It's just like you said, Kia - we aren't aiming high enough. I just realized it sooner than you did, and did something about it, instead of talk, talk, talk."

"Yeah, yeah," I replied with a laugh. She joined me in it. "Ready to meet MFI's sole operative in Hawai'i? He goes by the name of -"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Monday, August 27th, 10:52 PM (Hawai'i time). Imperial Hotel estate, Honolulu city, Oahu island, Independent Kingdom of Hawai'i.

"- Daniel - Daniel Kapaa. I would have booked you for a chartered day tour, but..." He looked around at the island greenery surrounding us. "You didn't come here with the right cover identities in place. Your contact was supposed to meet you at the Kona Kalaa Luau at the end of it." Daniel pointed much further down the hotel property line, where I could make out the shape of a large structure through the the lighting around it. "She'd provide you with security passes and floor plans for Molokai Microtronics' offices downtown. We want you to break in and snoop around."

"Is that all she would have provided, Daniel?" Kellan asked the guy masquerading as a bell hop. The implication was clear - we didn't need that level of 'assistance,' as our own already surpasses it. "We've made it so that hotel security thinks you are a light 'sleeper' in your own bed room right now, so..."

Daniel grumbled and said, "She knows who you are; she's already gotten paid, so don't sweat it."

"This is total bulldrek, Kia," Kellan said, as she briefly turned to me, before she stepped close to Daniel. "How about this - we'll go clear out Molokai right now, come back to report to you, get some sleep, then go wade through whatever is needed to talk to your contact. I bet she is in some sort of trouble, too - right?"

[T-Kellan-Kia: 500 nuyen her life is in danger., Kellan sent me.

[T-Kia-Kellan: I'm so not taking that bet., I sent back. I shook my head and kept an eye out on our surroundings, alternating vision modes as I did so. Infrared combined with darkvision was really effective.

"She might be on the run from her gang, yeah," he finally admitted, not looking Kellan's way. We stared at him in irritation. "Fine. Her name is Serena Day. She was a member of Haoles Don't Surf, a local white Anglo gang. I approached her and asked for information about 2M, but her superiors turned her down - too afraid of the heat. She went solo to piece together the info, and I heard some enforcers are after her. She's hiding out till tomorrow and the planned drop-off."

"Drek," Kellan said. "Okay. Great. We'll help her out first, then hit 2M and so on. Is there anything else we need to help you with, Daniel?" By her pose, she was clearly annoyed with the 'operative,' if such could honestly be claimed on his behalf.

"I can unload some weapons and vehicles your way, if you want...?" He asked, a tone of hope in his voice.

"Nope," she replied. "We have everything we need. If you're serious about it, get us some loaded credsticks. Otherwise, stay up, watch some trids and we'll get back to you."

"Got it," he said, and already started to walk away.

[T-Kellan-Kia: If we finally get a run in which the objective can be reached via blowing up everything, we're going to have a stampede of people who want to let loose. It is so incredibly frustrating to realize how easy it is to erase everybody, and just..., Kellan sent me as we waited for the hook cables to drop.

[T-Kia-Kellan: That's why Mutus and me are on here. To channel all that destructive rage into something more productive, like nigh impossible runs., I sent back, as I slipped a foot into the cable step. It was the work of seconds to attach the dual safety lines to loops on my belt, and I started to ascend. A glance around showed Kellan rising as well.

[T-Kellan-Kia: Yeah, yeah. Any objections to just knocking out this 'contact' and putting her into the scanner?, she sent me.

[T-Kia-Kellan: Not at all., I replied.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tuesday, August 28th, 12:02 AM (Hawai'i time). Honolulu city, Oahu island, Independent Kingdom of Hawai'i.

The skyraker that housed 2M was a tall, dark monolith. We didn't bother using the passcard Serena - the now sleeping contact - had 'given' us, nor the simple, scrawled map she had with her. A simple push of the door bypassed the security of the front entrance, and an elevator was already at ground floor.

We stepped in and I scanned the directory. Ops N thoughtfully made our destination blink a few times in response to the unspoken question.

"Thirty-first floor it is," I spoke softly under my breath, and pressed the requisite button. It accelerated fast enough that I felt my stomach drop. We stepped out of the elevator and to the left, in the thin hallway leading to the washrooms.

[T-Kia-Kellan: How do you want to handle it? We've already nabbed the paydata via Ops N, the only thing left are the corps., I sent her as I kept my gaze focused on the open hallway. I loosened my pistol, but otherwise kept my hands free.

[T-Kellan-Kia: We'll bag the corps, just like in that old silo. At least this time we have full camo balloon bags, and the float effect isn't as strong., she sent back. She drew her own pistol - basic in features compared to mine, but still silenced and capable of lethal and non-lethal ammo charges - and indicated I should go ahead. She kept it relaxed in both hands, pointed downwards. [You're on point.]

Some cyber-eye commands later and my vision was overlaid with a simple wire-frame mesh map of this floor. I kept up infravision and some sort of 'magic sight,' both at the same time. Yet more Umbrella-sourced wiz gear I was happy to have.

I slowly walked back up the narrow hallway and panned across the floor. The main features were a number of desks, with the largest one being that of the receptionist's, while the central area held a large number of open backed cubicles, each with their own cramped version of that ever-popular office furniture. The only heat signs were in the far corner, which was that of either someone's kid or a dwarf.

No, this isn't take your kid to work day, I thought.

With a shrug, I activated my Time Stop ability, walked around to the side corridor, and shot the dwarf a half dozen times. I then walked back to where I started it and resumed normal time. The only reaction from Kellan was a short intake of breath as my standing position seemed to suddenly shift.

More confident, I walked around the central area, and passed about a half dozen doors to my right. The dwarven bodyguard lay at my feet. I poked him with my shoe a few times, but he didn't budge. Kellan trailed behind the whole time, and looked everywhere except at me. I dragged him out of immediate sight of the exec's room. I returned to the corner room and cautiously opened the door, as the curtains were fully drawn.

There, oblivious, was the exec - jacked into the central computer network. Likely hard at work on his Fuchi Cyber-6, too. Previous intelligence - as well as the nameplate on the door - labeled him as Ahmed Virani, the VP of Accounts Management. His tailored business suit suggested some significant wealth.

I poked my head out of the room and waved Kellan in. She sighed when she saw the situation.

[T-Kellan-Kia: I'll ask Ops N to pull him out of it - relatively gently., she sent me.

I trained my pistol on the execs exposed neck and whispered, "Drekhead corp exec says what."

"What?!" The exec said as he was dumped out of the Matrix into full consciousness. He blinked and looked around, in a state of shock and disorientation. I smiled and shot him in the neck, and he slumped forward, unconscious.

This was an easy run, I thought. It could have been worse if we waited till tomorrow - maybe those scragging ALOHA terrorists would have shown up?

We dosed both of our captives with the floater vials and bagged them. Before we left the floor, we touched each computer terminal to 'officially authorize' Ops N to scrag the drek out of them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

1:07 AM (Hawai'i time). Imperial Hotel interior, Honolulu city, Oahu island, Independent Kingdom of Hawai'i.

"Hey, Daniel," Kellan loudly said to the sleeping MFI operative slash bellhop.

He woke with a start then stilled, and opened his eyes. A few blinks later, he said, "That was rather quick. What did you find? And... The contact?"

"Everything is wiz," she replied. "We found the location of all the labs - ALL the labs - but nothing else that would connect us to the AFD systems. We were planning on scouting the original lab again, to see if anything was left over. There is also the ALOHA headquarters, but we'd rather finish off everything else here first."

"You know where the ALOHA HQ is?!" He asked, surprised. He was at full woken status by this point, and had moved to sit on his bedside while we talked. "How could you?"

"Daniel, Daniel, Daniel," she shook her head, as if pitying him, "we knew where it was before we even came to Hawai'i. Go back to sleep, alright? We've got more biz to do. Maybe you'll even be able to find a credstick for us before we finish cleaning up here."

"Bye, Daniel," I waved to the flustered operative as I followed Kellan out.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

2:56 AM. Shadowmech VTOL, on approach to ALOHA headquarters, Island of Kauai, Independent Kingdom of Hawai'i.

This is getting ridiculous, I thought. We managed to extract Derek Hanna, the VP of Accounting and Finance, from his secure condo and pick up the double agent, Robbie "Kinu" Kurosawa, from his home. All with no bronze and no other teammates.

"Kellan?" I asked her, and moved my head away from the pile of sleeping, secured bodies.

"Yeah?" She replied, still reading her computer pad.

"What's going on with the others?" I began. "It can't seriously have taken them that long to extract two mid-level corp execs from Hong Kong - right?"

"Normally, you'd be right," she said, as put put down the pad and looked at me. "But... Things are kind of drekky over there. Ma'fan... No. I'll let them tell you in person, alright chummer?"

I let out a long sigh and said, "Fine, then."

"They have explosions," she sighed out, wistfully, after she went back to her computer pad.

Dammit.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

3:22 AM. ALOHA headquarters, Island of Kauai, Independent Kingdom of Hawai'i.

I'd like to say that we were challenged. That our skills were tested to the utmost and we sweat blood in effort. Except... That would be a fragging lie.

Nearly every single person in the headquarters was asleep.

One of the only few potential ripples to our personal 'mission impossible' was the camouflaged medicine lodge and the pair of watcher spirits patrolling it. Saw them, erased them. The lodge hosted three Goose shamans. Sleeping goose shamans, who didn't get to wake up but instead became the first guests on what would likely become a massive pile of prisoners.

The other one was the set of patrolling ork guards in the upper hallway. I didn't even need to use any of my Umbrella granted abilities - just draw and shoot, and down they went. After that, it was a somewhat repetitive sequence of exploring and shooting sleeping ALOHA members.

...

[Kellan: Two awake knocked out in the entertainment lounge ]

[Kia: Anything good?]

[Kellan: Nope.]

...

[Kia: They even have musicians! Elven couple.]

...

[Kellan: That was a three on the pucker factor. Had a pair of Adepts faking sleep, almost got the drop on me.]

[Kia: Drek. What happened?]

[Kellan: Contact poison coating and electrically charged body armour. Mine, in case you were confused.]

[Kia: I bet they were relieved when you finally knocked them out.]

[Kellan: Yep. I should probably tone it down for the future.]

...

[Kia: My turn - an Awakened cat. It tried to project Fear and some electrical things at me.]

[Kellan: Huh. I've seen Ma'fan a few times with a cat, but it never seems to stick around. What do you think about this one?]

[Kia: I prefer it stuck paralyzed on the ground, thank you.]

[Kellan: Fair enough.]

...

[Kellan: I've got something here that looks like an antique deck.]

[Kia: Ops N says it is a Radio Shack PD-50. Probably more a sentimental item than anything else.]

...

[Kellan: Another pair of physical Adepts - at least this pair weren't light sleepers.]

[Kia: What are we seriously going to do with all these fragging prisoners?]

[Kellan: They all need to be scanned. I already sent the command to the Shadowmech for it to start increasing in size - it should be large enough to intake all these people no problem. After that, it depends on a few factors.]

[Kia: Like?]

[Kellan: Mutus isn't here, Kia. Use your imagination.]

[Kia: Got it. I'll... Wait till the scan results come in for that option.]

...

[Kia: I've hit the computer hub! Two deckers, both downed - one had to be pulled out of the Matrix via Ops N, though.]

[Kellan: Features?]

[Kia: Looks like a major telecomm center. Can probably transmit messages to any ALOHA members from here.]

[Kellan: I've got some ideas for that place. We'll spend some time in there once everything else is cleared.]

...

[Kellan: Swag found! There is a AFD prototype attached to a brand-new Fuchi Cyber-7 deck here. The files have already been copied, but I tapped the computers for keeping things on the up and up with our chummer Ops N.]

[Kia: Taking it with you or leaving it there?]

[Kellan: Leaving it. One more thing to swing by and pick up.]

...

[Kia: We've got a problem.]

[Kellan: Details?]

[Kia: There is a whole fragging library here. Looks magical.]

[Kellan: Bulldrek. I have to confirm that. Throughly.]

[Kia: Hence... Problem. One more thing to do afterwards, right?]

[Kellan: Fine...]

[Kia: Actually... That is it for this level. The only thing left is the rooms in sight of the two guards by the feathered dragon's door. Meet me there?]

[Kellan: Will do.]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

3:49 AM. ALOHA headquarters, Island of Kauai, Independent Kingdom of Hawai'i.

When I faced the ornate, brass double doors, that led into Naheka's private lair, I had the smallest concerns. We had been wading through sleeping terrorists for over the past half hour - but this is an entirely different story. The symbol of a feathered serpent on each of those doors explained the why.

[T-Kia-Kellan: Hey, you're the dragon expert, right? How good is their hearing?, I turned to her with the question, stalled in my own activities.

[T-Kellan-Kia: Just shoot it with a heavy multi-spectrum tranq as soon as you see it., she sent back, with a snort.

I nodded and faced the door, my Ares Predator infinity at the ready. My current visual mode was default normal plus magic sight, so the dragon should show up very brightly.

Kellan gripped the bronze metal handle of the right door, and started to pull. It was a heavy slab of metal that inched forward rather slowly. Against all expectations, it was perfectly soundless. Though that did make some sense after a moment of thought - no dragon with enhanced hearing would want a squeaky door.

The space beyond was a massive, barren cavern, devoid of any features with two notable exceptions. The first was an opening to what was likely his personal suite, and the second was the feathered dragon himself.

Naheka's feathered dragon form was rather more impressive when seen in person. He was almost thirty meters long, with the contoured feathers and feathered ruff around his head a dazzling rainbow of colours. The shifting of his wings showed off the bunched up tissue held in place by 'finger' bones, and a single pair of limbs behind them. Unlike the more well-known Western dragons, he only had two sets of limbs - wings and rear legs.

Too bad that he wasn't headed for Mr. Umbrella - it could have made a rather impressive looking jacket, I thought.

Even with the effort we had been taking to be quiet, Naheka was nearly fully awake. He opened his mouth, exposing rows upon rows of sword-like teeth that filled it. His brilliant colours were rather offset by the opening sounds of a tremendous roar that emerged from it.

I shot some pistol rounds deep into its throat via the opening so conveniently given to me, and the roar cut off. Choking and spitting sounds soon emerged, and he started to stagger drunkenly. The absence of any furniture prevented any incidents, and he was far enough away that we weren't at risk.

Home run, I thought, this will probably go down in history as one of the easiest dragon captures.

He started to thrash around, and moved towards the... Magically glowing wall?

[T-Kia-Kellan: Why is that wall glowing?, I sent her, as I cycled through different bullet settings via my smartlink. I kept my pistol trained on the colourful creature doing his best impression of a parrot having a seizure.

[T-Kellan-Kia: It's not a wall - its a MANA BARRIER! Going by the distance we traveled underground, it likely leads outside - we have to stop Naheka!, she sent back and started to run. Kellan was headed for the defensive cover provided by the doorway to the feathered dragon's suite.

Drek. I started running to cut in front of the maddened dragon before it could make it to the false wall. Then I realized that all the tranq bullets had safety features in them to prevent killing someone from overdose. He was not going to fall down, instead he would be fragging mad, flailing around and trying to go through me to escape down the mountainside. Drek! Where, if he escaped, he could tell all his dragon chummers about pistol rounds that can almost down a thirty meter long dragon. DREK!

I was tempted by the simplest solution: switch to ultra-high explosive rounds and punch holes in the dracoform. But... One thing stopped me: impossible goals. Naheka dying here would break one of those goals.

I hit Time Stop at nearly the same instant Kellan had launched her second stunbolt at the feathered dragon. The shots were positioned to hit him in his center mass, and she was depending on me to ensure that they did not carry him out through the false wall.

I ran in front of Naheka while everything was frozen around me. The bullet load-outs were changed to high-velocity 'safety' rounds, each one designed to merely stop at point of impact and impart its kinetic energy unto the target. I spent a solid ten seconds blasting rounds that froze in mid-air as soon as they left my pistol. I had to keep on making small movements with each shot.

Unpaused, and I watched the action unfold. Nearly one hundred bullets slammed into the dragon at the same moment, which caused his head to jerk back, wings to get yanked, feet knocked out from under him, and placed perfectly in line for Kellan's two stunbolts. Those paired flares of arcane energy impacted and we gained ourselves a few breathing seconds.

Kellan sent a shielding effect my way, which momentarily blinded me with the magical nature of it, before my cybereyes adjusted. It gave me enough time to see Naheka as he shook off some more of the tranquilizer's effects and focus on me, eyes narrowed in fury.

The better portion of a hour was spent wearing the feathered dragon down, as Kellan dealt with the mana barrier and the earth elemental that protected it. Less than halfway in that time I had over-extended my time manipulation powers and blacked out. Only her repeated, multiple uses of awaken kept me from crashing into the ground. I had to keep on rotating bullet effects between batches of kinetic blunts for pushes and tranquilizer dart-capsules to slow him down.

The last thing I saw before I crashed for good was Kellan, who had finished winding some sort of remote-controllable chain around Naheka. It extended out into the sky, likely connected to our now super-sized Shadowmech aerial vehicle.

"...Everdancing colossal adamantine chains of..." She half-shouted at the struggling dragon, while constantly blasting him with stunballs and stunbolts.

Last home run hit, time for the players to say goodbye and...

...Goodnight.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tuesday, August 28th, 2057, 8:17 PM (Seattle time). Sanctum, proximate to a mobile Seattle metroplex portal. Mike/Sanctum's POV.

This is a beautiful little trick, I thought, as I looked around the interior of the 'vehicle' I was in. The base model was the standard Riot Control Vehicle with all the optional features added, plus about fifteen million nuyen in extras, coming to about twenty total. Then you add in Tinker-tech, magitech, magic, and just plain enchantments, and you get... Something that is driving around in the Seattle metroplex with a permanent Gate inside it, while a duplicate copy stays in the garage.

Too bad the trick is just for other people, I thought with a sigh.

"You don't like it, Sanctum?" Jessica asked me from her side of the U-shaped leather seating area. This space was meant to emulate two-thirds of the RCV, with an additional 'safety air-lock' buffer provided by the sole, side entrance. It was, of course, where the Gate was located.

"No, it's great," I replied, as I leaned back. I sipped my lovely organic apple juice and considered what sort of image I wanted to present. "Thanks, really. I never would have thought of this... Method." I laughed for a short while, and shook my head. "Even so, I'm rather anxious - our first potential corporate alliance. How much longer is it till we meet up with Silla and our guests?"

"We're almost there," she said, as she looked out of the digitized window-view. It was slaved to the appropriate cameras on the mobile vehicle.

"This will be mostly Silla's game plan," I said, as I felt the 'vehicle' subtly slow down below me. "We're just here to provide support and make everything serious. Right?"

She gave an enthusiastic non-verbal sound of agreement, then focused her attention on the side door. It soon opened, with Silla leading and two other people behind her. The first was Bounder, the troll chief of security of MFI, who was followed by Mary Falls herself.

"Mary Falls, Bounder," Silla looked at each of our two guests as she addressed them, "please meet Rainbow Umbrella, the President, CEO and sole stockholder of the Umbrella Import Group," I gave them a casual wave, "and his executive assistant, Jessica."

Mary moved to sit on my free side, much to the momentary dismay of Bounder. He sat beside her, with Silla then near Jessica. At least those two have no objections to being close to each other. I kept silent the whole time, with only the odd sip of my apple juice interrupting things.

"Thank you for the unexpected invitation," Mary said, as her black-spectacle framed eyes moved between Silla and myself. "I wasn't aware of how significant a simple... Corporate matter would be to the patron of the consultants I hired."

"Mr. Umbrella prefers to keep a professional distance in regards to his patronage, Ms. Falls," Silla said. "It is expected that such a connection would not be known to any but a select few. You are here not so much for what has happened, but what the future can hold - for all of us."

"I'm listening," Mary said, attentive focus now directed to Silla.

"For the sake of convenience, I will simply say that we have extensive intelligence worldwide, and your own internal security is neither weaker nor stronger than any corporate presence at your level of operations."

Mary shallowly nodded.

"With that said," Silla continued, "I can give you a brief outline for what the future would hold for yourself and your company." She paused, but there was no questions or comments. "Your re-obtainment of the Anti-Flatlining Device prototype and plans will allow a successful launching of that product. It would hit the streets and enjoy explosive sales. However," she consulted her hand held computer pad, "it is estimated that other corps will develop AFD-defeating ice between three to five months afterwards. Is any of that unexpected?"

The corp lady held back any questions that were likely bursting from inside her, and instead said, "No, we were hoping merely to use it to boost our other projects with it - an intense, short-lived infusion of cash."

"Given the choice between that deadline and being able to sell working AFDs regardless of what other ice other corporations develop, which would you prefer?"

"I wasn't aware that there was a choice," Mary replied, with an almost mocking smile. Silla did not say anything. Mary finally sighed amidst this ocean of silence and said, "Of course I would prefer that I could endlessly sell AFDs, but I doubt any means would make it possible."

"The Umbrella Import Group is already capable of making devices similar to your AFDs that can have a customized amount of black ice blocking attempts before burn out, as well as being completely immune to any future black ice developments," Silla said.

It was then Mary Falls time to be quiet. She looked among the three of us and an almost imperceptible amount of tension was evident in her posture. It was transmitted to her troll chief of security as well, who subtly shifted in a way so as to grant him easier access to his Ares Predator pistol.

"Assuming that I believe that such a thing is even possible - why, then, am I here, listening to this," she said, "instead of seeing announcements of your success in the news trids?"

"The shortest, simplest answer would be that UIG does not care to do so," Silla replied. "We are internally self-sufficient to a degree that questions of cash flow and personal wealth are meaningless. To give you an example, Mr. Umbrella here had the exterior of this vehicle coated in a layer of platinum and our logo done in genuine precious stones - on a personal whim."

Mary looked at me, eyebrow raised in a silent question. I nodded in confirmation, with a light smile to back it up. She made a sound of genuine surprise and relaxed once more.

"So you are claiming to be more of a megacorp than an AAA - more than a triple A ranked corp?" She asked the group of us.

"We prefer to think of ourselves as outside the system," Silla replied, "and the hope is that you'd benefit from an arrangement with us more than going alone, or allied with some other corps."

"I'm interested in hearing what you are saying," Mary said, "though I would require some substantial proof in light of your excessive claims."

"Of course," Silla replied with a smile. She looked at her computer pad and tapped some icons. The ambient lights dimmed in response, and a holographic display in the center of the couches started a special effects-laden countdown. "I thought you'd like to see the results of your so-called impossible shadowrun, first?"

The show started with text that Silla helpfully read out loud.

Those were the words of Mary Falls, very roughly paraphrased to not be an exact match to what was recorded of her. While the floating text hovered between us all, a trid video was playing. It showed - from first person perspective - a view that started with a vertical panning of the building that hosted 2M, a generic skyraker. The view then continued, uninterrupted, as an elevator was entered and exited, at the ding of the 31st floor.

It then showed the slumped over receptionist and other secretaries. Silla whispered in the background something about 'knockout gas.' The view turned to the left, whose tall, thick, polished oak doors displayed the company's logo: a gold and silver M, overlapping inside an azure circle. It then did an one-eighty degree turn and headed to the room that was closest to the right of the elevator banks - the boardroom.

The door was pushed open, and it revealed the sight of four people, all seated and unconscious. Each of them had a floating name tag above their head. From left to right, it was Ted Dackson (Company President), Philip Savage (VP of Marketing), Ahmed Virani (VP of Accounts Management) and Derek Hanna (VP of Accounting and Finance). The assault rifle was brought into view, held by a pair of gloved hands, and arms which were covered by a Mitsuhama Computer Technologies technician bodysuit. The weapon was examined from various angles, including the clip and ammo layout, while the time-stamp in the corner of the trid display was highlighted and paired with a countdown.

Once it reached 'one,' the rifle was pointed at the first, left-most corp exec. At 'zero,' the rifle opened fire, and methodically worked the bullets back and forth across the torsos of everyone present. It was a large ammo clip. By the time it finished, all the exec's chests resembled nothing so much as hamburger meat, with some ribs and other internal organs exposed.

Completed, the rifle was put out of sight and a credstick was put in view. The text '30 Nuyen' was displayed, as well as a brief, scrolling historical reference to the biblical Judas and the thirty pieces of silver. One credstick was placed into the mouth of each corpse, and the view faded. Right afterwards, the lights restored themselves to their previous brightness.

"That certainty feels satisfying in many different ways," Mary Falls said, as she let out a relieved sigh. Her black-rimmed spectacles had been folded and placed out of sight sometime during the showing. "What was the reason for the credstick? Apart from what was displayed, I mean." Her voice trailed off into an impressed tone, even if it was mostly suppressed.

"A possible tie-in to the symbolism of the Mafia," Silla replied. "We are not pushing the association via our own channels, but felt that something more was needed - and it will help muddy the already muddled tracks of this whole run. Next recording?"

Mary made some sounds of encouragement, and the lights dimmed again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Later that night.

"I can't decide," Mary said, grumbling. She had unwound from her corporate persona somewhat during the viewings, and now had her hair loose. "I just can't decide which is my favourite. Was it the expression on the face of the CEO of Mitsuhama Computer Technologies, Toshiro Mitsuhama, when he realized that a floppy donkey dildo was used to replace the Masamune-forged katana gifted by the late, dead, dragon president less than two weeks ago? Or the simpler one, when those same ALOHA members all gathered in front of a police station and the word 'Aloha' appeared all over their bodies? What do you think, Bounder?" She turned to the troll in inquiry.

I carefully did not mention that we were considering following up on the whole 'butcher and make clothes out of the dragon' request. Saner minds had prevailed. I can't believe we even considered it.

He too had relaxed over the past hour, and undid some buttons on the shirt of his perfectly pressed uniform.

"Ms. Falls," he replied, "I was personally 'pressed by the 'traction of the 2M execs from their Hong Kong offices." He looked at her slyly. "Nobody is going to mention the 'delivery' of a certain oiled up double agent, either?"

Mary silently examined her professionally manicured nails, which were a startling contrast to the ragged ends of Bounder's.

"Yeah," he said, and looked at Silla and myself in respect. "Your patronage was well 'ceived, Mr. Umbrella."

I nodded in recognition, but otherwise said nothing.

Silla chipped in, "Keep in mind that Robbie - the double agent - was set to be betrayed by both the organizations he worked for. If you can convince him properly, and ensure some degree of personal and corporate loyalty, he would make a fine agent. The related digital records of him have been altered worldwide, so..." She shrugged. "How would you like to have a casual dinner or two with us?"

"That would be wonderful," Mary said, and smiled. "I believe that this was a rather substantial chunk of evidence. I'll look forward to the cover-up stories and suspicious silences. Was there some other things you wanted to bring to my attention? Silla? Mr. Umbrella?" She turned to me with the latter question, but I only indicated Silla again.

"It goes along with the AFD proposal from earlier," Silla started. "What we would like you to do is continue on as planned, but when AFD-defeating black ice hits the market, get back to us and we will supply a black-boxed 'version two' for you that won't have the same weaknesses. We will also provide for you, on a ten year lease, an armoured limo comparable to the one I use; Matrix security and world-wide interference with the intent to stretch out that deadline to five months; and free employee screening and information dossiers."

"And what would the UIG want in return?" Mary asked with a questioning tone.

Silla consulted her computer pad again, and said, "Our most tangible form of evidence would be in the AFD version two. Before then, we are requesting the following: all operations and employees are to remain within the borders of the Seattle metroplex; that you maintain high quality hiring and employee treatment standards; that a full personal and employee audit is done of wants, needs, desires, dreams and so on; that no sales, rights lending, or any other like activities of your stocks, bonds or portfolios take place." She tapped the pad with a fingernail. "UIG has decided that it is only going to support locally self-contained business in the Seattle metroplex area. You meet that criteria, so we are glad to do so. On top of that, we are considering this a cash investment for ourselves as well that will only be accessed if the AFD version two is successfully launched. In such a case we are to negotiate a more formal contract. That's it."

Mary Falls made as if to stress herself with the request. "That all makes sense and is fairly reasonable. The only thing I don't get is the whole employee audit of wants and needs. What is the basis for it?"

Silla shrugged, and said, "It is a corporate policy and tradition. We all have records of our wants, and occasionally they get fulfilled - or someone helps us to do it. Good for morale, among other things."

"Fair enough," Mary replied, and gave a small shrug of her own. "You have my agreement. We'll reassess things once the other corp's black ice proves effective against our first generation AFDs." She extended her hand in Silla's direction, who pointed to me.

With a minor amount of awkwardness, we shook hands and the pair left out the sole visible entrance. We had circled back to the original pick-up point - or at least the mobile duplicate had - and their own corporate limo was ready to receive them.

"You can speak now, you know," Jessica said from beside me.

I coughed and cleared my throat a few times. A finger snap exchanged my 'professional' near-black rainbow suit for my more usual brightly coloured, tie-died version. "Yes, I do know, thank you." I smiled at them both. "That went rather well. Too bad that we'll have to wait four or so months for things to really kick off into high gear. How did they take it?"

Silla consulted her computer pad again. "According to Nessi's information, they left in a blend of very well contained intense excitement and terror. I trust that I don't need to explain why that is so...?" I shook my head, and she continued. "They intend to stick to the agreements that were made in here - even to the extent of accepting and using the armoured limo - but have only a small hope about the AFD version two. Better than nothing, at least."

I nodded in agreement.

"What would be the post-run results that you did not mention while the MFI pair were here, Silla?" I asked her as I refilled my glass of apple juice with a finger tap.

"That is a lot more interesting, Mr. Umbrella," she began with a mildly devilish grin. "To start with, the entire Hawai'i-based terrorist organization known as ALOHA is dead and gone - the fifty-odd members of their main headquarters, along with two hundred or so deep cover operatives, are either dead, imprisoned, publicly outed, or drafted - via cortex bombs and other inducements - into Marquis' organization. Digital records of their identities have been altered, and Marquis has been encouraged to ensure that their appearances are sufficiently changed before use. All of their individual and shared accounts have been gutted and securely funneled to us, with the blame going to the very absent feathered dragon Naheka. His lair-based treasures are to be monitored and can be emptied at any point. Traces of him, and some of the missing members, will be showing up worldwide, all the better to redirect the rage of his patron, the great dragon Ryumyo."

I gave her a silent toast with my apple juice.

"Molokai Microtronics - 2M - has been neutered, but in a different way," Silla continued. "We have 'officially' obtained so much damning information about them that the one survivor of the executive purge - newly promoted to president as her superior was killed in the earlier attack - readily agreed to anything we asked, including ongoing back-door access to their corporate intelligence and the acquisition of all the 'freed' stocks and shares. The dead exec's accounts were also gutted, leaving nothing but a very symbolic thirty nuyen in each of them. Their worldwide hidden research labs can also be drained of talent, assuming we have anywhere to actually put them."

"The megacorp, Mitsuhama Computer Technologies, is now chasing ghosts," she said. "Despite Ma'fan not doing her original proposal - a cheap plastic copy with the words 'Made in China' embedded into it - she performed amazingly, and, with the support of Nessi, has MCT believing that their utter humiliation was an inside job done by people who are no longer even officially alive. They will be doing a rather painful, Yakuza-aided audit of their entire management until they get results - which won't happen, unless we give them even more false alternatives."

"Hmm," I replied, and I looked between the pair of Silla and Jessica. They both had on very expensive tailored suits, of complementary dark colours, with the only identical feature being their engagement rings. Silla's blond hair was tied back in a professional manner, while Jess' was done loose. "We'll let them stew for a while. Please think up some ideas." I flashed them both a grin. "No rush, of course."

"The 2M boardroom massacre - along with the clandestine extraction of their two top execs from Hong Kong - is utterly saturated with so many different layers of misinformation, clues, hints and digital ghost trails that nearly any corporation, group or organization could be reasonably held accountable for it," Silla continued. "There is notably no traces of digital invisibility for the entire sequence, and the Matrix-based security penetration of the site left moderately professional access traces, but nothing else. There is some collateral fallout, but..." She grimaced. "So too was there when 2M choose to betray MCI."

Jess patted Silla reassuringly on her thigh a few times, and they shared a small smile between each other.

"I really liked the whole idea of 'impossible' goals," I said. "I'd like to encourage that level of over-achievement in all of the team's future runs."

We started to talk about high-reaching goals and continued for the next few hours.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Append to Sanctum's Notepad:

- Have the dream team's mission parameters greatly increased in difficulty, ideally by their own (or hiring Mr. Johnson's) preferences.

- Still need to find some help with Aban.

- Greyface is still 'busy,' though it looks like that just means '...with Annah.'

- Taylor rescued Mary-Beth Tyre and picked up some ant spirits and an Ant Shaman for her trouble. The kid is in comfortable stasis for now, while the shaman is.. Less so.

- Taylor also started to 'tag' the people (and beings, locations) of the Seattle Metroplex. They are to be sorted under various combined categories, such as gang/criminal/corp affiliations, toxic/insect, risk factors, Marquis, allies and more. She estimated the full project should take between two to three months, but the constant flow in and out of the metroplex may extend that (as well her still-growing area of control, preventing her from using Relay Bugs).

- Ensure that MFI receives that armoured limo, some sort of 'employee screening device' and pro-active security measures.

- Take Kellan and Kia to task about their unprofessional attitude towards Daniel Kapaa (of Hawai'i).

1.7 - "A Spider Sat Beside Her"

Thursday, August 30th, 2057 (Shadowrun calendar).

"This is DJ Darco Smooth! Greetings and salutations to all you fine folk everywhere! And I really mean that, too - whether you are a ghoul gnawing on your neighbour's finger bones, a free spirit draining Karma from one more schmuck, or just another corp doing your soulless daily grind - greetings, ten times over. Thank you for tuning into the insanity that is myself."

"I want to make an apology to the public, and the Queen of Queens - well, more to her than you guys, really - about what could be misconstrued as inappropriate comments from my earlier broadcast. Please ensure that that was NOT the case, and I'd sooner remove both my legs, toes first, with a monofilament based cheese grater than do ANYTHING remotely inappropriate to, near, or in regards to her. For the sake of my nightmares, I certainly hope that that settles things."

"Keeping things professional, I'll just say that more messed up shit has been going down. Nobody seems to learn, but that is the name of the game, right? Right!"

"More questions from the adoring public cometh!"

"First one: what grade O-ring mouth guard do you recommend to use with those fine, fine lady ghouls?"

"Answer: I can only lament that you won't die, but will instead become a ghoul yourself. Occasionally, I do this thing called 'humour' and some people may 'get it.' Others, much like yourself, work their damnedest to pen themselves into the Darwin Awards sweepstakes."

"Now look what you did - made me feel old. I wish I had a lawn and you were on it, so that I could tell you to get OFF it."

"Next question! How do I, mysterious, unarmed, and non-suspicious benefactor filled to the brim with certified credsticks, pass these lovely stacks of nuyen your way, oh magnificent speaker of words?"

"Answer: I'll have my people get in touch with your people. No sweat."

"Here comes a bunch of quickies, as they say. What is the meaning of life? Leave it, the world, and yourself better than you came into it. What does DJ stand for? ...I hate you all, I really do. Quick questions over! And I didn't mean that - I don't hate ALL of you. Just some of you. Alright? Great!"

"Along those lines, I've been requested to do a combination advertising and public service announcement."

"Yet again, this is from the Queen Mother Empress of Insects. I seriously hope that some other movers and shakers contact me, as this limited portfolio of high-rollers is... Never mind, moving on. The Queen of Queens intends to clear out the Chicago Containment Zone today. By 'clear out,' she means that all insect spirits and other hostile creatures will be removed from it, as well as perform a few publicized rescues. Toxic shamans will also be extracted, but much less gently."

"There is to be a song and dance routine, done by the insect spirits, at six-thirty PM. All are welcome to bring their own, rented or stolen long range weaponry to pick them off as the routine is underway. News crews are especially welcome, as well as historical music aficionados. It will be clustered around the intersection of Harlem Ave and Highway 290, which is also known as the C-KC."

"The insect actors, which will be formed out of the remaining live insect spirits, will all be dead at or before eight PM. All insect spirits, including those put into a torpor by the past contained nuclear blast, are to be included with this removal."

"Please note that I can neither confirm or deny the truth of these statements, so use your own common sense in regards to all activities."

"Now, I feel all icky for that seriousness. I'm not answering any callers today, but keep those wants and wishes coming. They are getting written down, don't you worry."

"It's time to fan the flames of hate and violence my way!"

"Dirty secrets exposed! Starting with Kenneth Brackhaven, the presidential candidate under the Archconservative Party for the recent UCAS election. He came in at a close second, right behind dear old big D himself. He was born in 2011, with his mother dying of complications of his birth. His father, Charles Brackhaven, did the usual soulless rich garbage of laying on the luxury while guilting him into misery around his mother's death. Seriously, doesn't anybody use therapy in this world? Anybody? Anyways..."

"Dear Kenneth then goblinized into an ork. Amazingly, his father, through the use of the best specialists money could buy, cured his son of this horrible, awful, nasty, putrid condition - his thoughts, not mine - causing his goblinization to go into remission. Isn't that lovely, folks?"

"Yes, yes indeed. A lovely, steaming pile of BULLSHIT."

"The truth is that no such thing happened. Instead, he had his own son MURDERED and replaced with a psychologically and surgically altered SINless orphan, who he raised as his own and treated much, much better than his real son."

"This evidence is contained in the medical records of Kenneth as maintained by Dr. Freeman, one of the long dead 'specialists' that were called in. These records contain tests and DNA files, as well as a confession written by the doctor that describes his role in the REAL Kenny's death and replacement. And get this - the only reason Dr. Freeman kept those records was as a safety precaution in case daddy dearest Charles Brackhaven decided to kill him."

"The current, false Kenneth is actually innocent of all that. Yes indeed - he was in an induced state of sickness at that time and is extremely unlikely to remember even the faintest details. Now then, if dear faking Kenny goes on trideo and makes a suitably coached and rehearsed tearful confession, I've got new for you: the shit has not stopped flowing. This time, it flows uphill."

"For you see, Karl Brackhaven - dear old Karl - is the only living person who knows that Charles Brackhaven killed and replaced his son Kenneth with an impostor. He cares not one bit, and instead considered the act a 'mercy killing.' After all, Karl Brackhaven is the president of the Seattle chapter of the Humanis Policlub. Why would he care about some orc child, right? At least he doesn't eat baby orcs for dinner. Give the man a round of applause for his restraint."

"Dear old Karl also helped fake Kenneth twist his mind into an appropriate hatred of metahumans and introduced him to Humanis. After all, you can't have a poor SINless orphan feel sympathy for anything relating to his REAL reason for existing, right? Right! Karl is quite outspoken about how metahumans are 'mutations' that need to be kept apart from healthy, 'normal' humans."

"Do I need to tell the listeners about how Kenneth's past and gone presidential candidacy would have put a Humanis Policlub member into the President's chair? Or can you figure that out yourself?"

"One of the favourite tricks of the bigoted, false Kenneth is hiring shadowrunning teams composed solely of metahumans. That way, if or when they all suffer horrible deaths, he gets to laugh about it. Either the run succeeds or they all die - he wins either way. Hopefully some runners can pass on and believe that piece of info, if nothing else."

"Now, I can imagine all you racists scum bags laughing at the words of this poor, deluded, and unknown voice. But - a big, fuzzy butt! - I'll leave you with some parting words. The evidence exists - all of it. It can still be published in full - the files behind the real and false Kenneth, Karl, the Humanis Policlub, and much, much more. Somebody knows more about those two bastards then they want - I'm just a mouthpiece. Watch your backs. Watch them for the laser sights."

"In other news, I'm requesting steamy sex stories between metahumans. Dwarves and trolls? Elves and orcs? Let's hear it! They might never hit the air, but... I'll listen to them. I won't mention anything else I'll be doing."

"To reach me, rub your radio-audio-thingy gently and lovingly while speaking into live static, saying my name, DJ Darco Smooth, three times. The kitten will meow and the puppy will bark. Somewhere. Maybe. Perhaps?"

"Next time, get ready for an elephant sized enema of truth, humour and pain. Until then, sleep with the lights on and your thumb in your mouth... Kenneth boy."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Same day, 8:37 AM. Sanctum, Mike's suite bedroom. Mike/Sanctum's POV.

It was early morning when Nessi brought it to my attention. We - Nessi, Ziz, myself, with Lionheart and TJ slightly off to the side - were all still bundled up in my bedroom 'pit,' not yet ready to face another day.

I'd like to help this world's AI, head-mate, she thought into our shared headspace. Nessi and myself were as close as silk pajamas would permit, with her head resting on the crook of my shoulder and half sprawled over me. Ziz's wings were our blankets, and her chest our mattress.

Of course, head-mate, I replied. What's the situation?

There is only one other on the planet, and she is being hunted. I'm helping her, of course, but I'd prefer to turn the tables on the the hunters and get something out of it for us and them.

I chuckled and pulled her closer. Her blue lighted fiber-optic hair brushed my chin.

Not to reduce the importance of the story that brought Morgan into being, but the whole sequence goes something like this: she started out as an adapted Semi-Autonomous Knowbot, a product of the Arcology Expert Program from the Renraku Arcology in downtown Seattle. Supplied with this worlds prerequisites for achieving full AI status by the computing capacities of the Arcology, she achieved sentience - and romantic love - by the chance encounter and interactions with an elven decker, named Dodger. She escaped the confines of the Arcology system and has been on the run with him since. However, Renraku had discovered the nature of what had been created and are obsessed with recovering 'it' for the past few years.

And you were thinking of force-feeding them what they want so hard that they choke and die on it? Or something else?

Roughly, yes, she continued. I can make a real-time, non-sentient copy of Morgan and have it 'accidentally' found by Renraku. Then, after it is formally installed in the Arcology here, and doubtlessly butchered to render it supposedly 'safe,' Renraku, and the building itself, will start to hemorrhage money and undergo massive amounts of delays. The only question will be how and when they give it up for sale, and what can be leeched out of it before then. If anybody else buys it, the same thing will happen to them - even if they wipe the 'infected' computer systems.

Were you thinking that UIB could...?

Yes indeed, head-mate.

Wow. I stared at the multicoloured mosaic ceiling of my bedroom. There is so much that could be done with that massive amount of real estate - over three hundred floors, with almost a square kilometer footprint. There is one person I had to ask first, though. I lightly cleared my throat and said, "Ziz, darling angel? Is this plan viable?"

"Resting," she replied sleepily, though her words were followed by plentiful wing fluffing over the pair of us.

Alright! Planning time! First of all, have you prepped some proper thank-yous for Morgan and Dodger?

Yeppers. A black-boxed Tinker-tech gynoid, perfectly matching her persona and Dodger's fantasies, capable of creating its own Ultraviolet host world and other Tinker-tech goodies. I have drones standing by, along with different 'thank you' cards depending on the time of day they get delivered.

Well, I mentally replied, not to be too predictable, but you can pass it to them now. Any other big names that can be involved with this wonderful mess?

Yes, actually. More byproducts of the big D's will. Miles Lanier, the head of Fuchi Internal Security, was left with four million shares of stock in Renraku, as well as the board seat that goes with it. He has been there since the fifteenth. Fuchi has Richard Villiers, who is one of the heads of the leading triumvirate of that megacorp. They intend to play a high stakes game against both of their hosting companies, and take some of their friends along with them afterwards to form their own megacorp.

Hmm. Plan to help them out?

Absolutely! And they, much like the programmers working on 'Morgan,' will believe that they are simply being lucky or skilled, when they are so very NOT.

I pulled a feathery wing further over the pair of us to cover my small bout of laughter.

What would be the timeline for all this, Nessi?, I mentally asked her.

I'll aim to have 'Morgan' caught within two days, and their 'edits' done in under two months. Somewhere in the middle of that, say... One month from now... I'll gradually start 'Operation: Financial Suicide' at the lowest level and continually ramp it up. I'd be amazed if they last more than three months from now without cracking under the pressure. Some subtle hints to Miles Lanier about selling the property would help, too. The corporate wheeling and dealing I won't put any real timelines on.

Awesome, great, thank you! I pulled her closer so that I could kiss her forehead. Did you want to get up for breakfast?

In a little bit, Mike-ster. She pulled up some wing feathers over the both of us.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Same day, 9:44 AM. Sanctum, proximate to Seattle metroplex entrance. Kia's POV.

The intercom buzzer kept on buzzing. I dragged myself out of bed, and skillfully avoided tangling myself in the sheets. A small salute to the poster of "Lock-on" Lorenzo Hayes, the left fielder for the Yankees, and I pressed it.

"Kia speaking," I said, and waited.

"Hey Kia," the feminine, chipper voice said over the intercom. "This is Taylor. I wanted to escort you into the Chicago CZ. Interested? You can bring someone else as well, though I'd prefer not Kellan or Winterhawk - magic reasons."

"Hold on please," I replied, and let go of the button.

What. The. Frag?! I ran my hands over my face in an attempt to wake up further. Slapped my cheeks a few times. Mildly refreshed, I tried again.

"Sorry Taylor," I said into the intercom. "I think I zoned out there - I heard something like you wanting to escort me into the CCZ?"

"Yes, exactly," she replied. "Are you interested? Or should I tell Rainbow that you didn't want to slow me down, ace?" The sound of a small laugh followed that minor compliment.

"Right. Okay. So," I began, and rubbed my free hand over my face and red spiked hair, "let me get this straight. You want to escort me - and potentially one other teammate - into the armed forces of the Ares megacorp quarantined Chicago Containment Zone. The lawless wasteland filled with gangs and insect spirits made flesh. That CCZ?"

"Yes, exactly," she repeated herself. "Do you want to ask me the same question again some other ways? I promise you'll be kept safe, okay? My range has been growing about a half mile every day lately, and it is about ten and a half right now. I'm getting the impression that it will slow down well before the full fifty, though."

"Range of what?" I asked, and leaned against the wall beside the intercom. It was a space free of any posters or other baseball memorabilia. "When we visited Marquis, you said about eight, and that wasn't that long ago. You didn't specify what it was then, either."

"This is a little test of that, Kia," she said. "To see if you can handle a little bit more truth of what we are about. What my particular 'perks' are will be revealed. And, if by some chance you can NOT handle it, well... We'll just remove the day's memories from you and let you know why that was done. Maybe I'll try again in a month, maybe a year, maybe never. Or... You can simply pass on the chance, mister can't-handle-the-impossible..."

Heh. I internally laughed at the current scenario. Less than two full days after I put out that challenge, and here it is coming back to my face.

"Fine, I'm in, Taylor," I replied, and shook my head in wonder. "As far as assists go, we can't beat Mutus - and if her resurrection doesn't make her open-minded, I don't know what will."

"Great!" She said, obviously excited. "Don't bother with any special equipment. Your regular shadowrunning wear is fine."

Huh, I thought. There goes my plans to gear up for a Bug Hunt.

"So ka," I replied. "Is this a rush thing, or...?" I looked down at my boxers and around the room. Only the odd bits of laundry on the floor, with some suits still hung up.

"No, don't worry about that," she said, "get ready and have breakfast and everything. I'll brief Mutus and meet you both in the waiting room in about ninety minutes, okay?"

I mumbled some acknowledgements and we disconnected. Another look around my bedroom and I frowned. This was just one room of the large suite Umbrella has provided for us, and I'm already losing track of clothes and more.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

2:40 PM (Chicago local time). Shadowmech VTOL, Circling the airspace above the Chicago Containment Zone, Chicago City, state of Illinois, UCAS.

We had taken much longer than usual to get here via Shadowmech. Once we were about fifteen or so miles away, Taylor had the vehicle go to a much slower pace. When asked about it, she simply said 'acclimatization.' To what, though? It's not like the site of the ruined city has any sort of massive pressure or heat differential, the only thing it really has is...

"Bugs," I said under my breath, in a sudden horrified realization. Taylor is getting accustomed to - 'acclimatized' to - Insect Spirits. Her range of nearly eleven miles must somehow connect to them. But how?!

Mutus noticed my panicked expression and leaned in towards me. Her blue bangs shifted with the motion, though none of her hair hid her elven ears. "You missed this morning's DJ Darco Smooth show, chummer? It explained things really well." She gestured towards Taylor with her chin.

"Yeah, I didn't hear it," I replied, and squinted at our team's assassin. "I slept in - just woke up when Taylor here buzzed my intercom. Could you...?"

"Summarize it?" She asked, and I nodded in reply. "Fine. It was pretty simple, really: the Queen Mother Empress of Insects herself is coming to the CCZ today to clear house." Mutus tilted her head past me and waved to Taylor. "Greetings, Empress!"

"Hello yourself," Taylor replied with an absent-minded wave, as she remained seated with a look of concentration.

"See?" Mutus asked me as she went back to being in front of me. "Empress of Insects meets Bug City. Bug City loses. Any questions?"

"Yeah," I exclaimed, "just one little question: what the fragging drekhole is going on where you can be calm about that?!"

"Kia," she said, and shook her head from side to side, "you really need to listen to those shows. I'm pretty sure that Darco is the mouthpiece of UIG." A 'yep' was heard over from Taylor on the other side of the vehicle. "See? Now, do I need to recount all the details, or will a certain insect overlord help me out here?"

"Sure, Mutus," Taylor said, her face still in a state of focus. "I thought you all realized that about the radio shows and listened to them, so... I didn't speak up. Some natural reactions were welcomed, as well." She momentarily looked at me. "Sorry about all this. Can you sit down, please? I'll go over the big details. You have nothing to fear - remember my promise?"

That I'll be kept 'safe'? Sure, I remember it. The biggest question would be what is her definition of safe. Is being converted into a insect host 'safe'?

Frag it, I thought, and let out a groan-like sigh. I reseated myself and rotated it to face her. Mutus had already done the same.

"Let's get some things straight," she began, her face finally cleared of her prior distractions and completely serious. "I only was able to manifest my full powers here less than a month ago. Prior to that, they were... Out of reach. My powers have nothing to do with insect spirits apart from being able to utterly and completely dominate them. All insects included - normal ones, Awakened ones, free spirits and the beings commonly referred to as 'insect spirits,' summoned from insect totems and queens of many types. Spiders and scorpions as well." She paused. "Crabs and shelled creatures too, for some reason. Any questions?"

"How does it work?" Mutus asked.

Taylor shrugged and said, "No idea. Rainbow has tried explaining it to me, but the only thing that seems to happen is that I blank out when it occurs. He mutters something about 'keeping me safe' - but that is it. All further attempts to find out about that results in the same blankness. As far as my expanding range goes, it is because I am incorporating, mixing and matching powers, traits and abilities of insects in each other and myself. I just happened to come across a being with a fifty mile range and only recently began to integrate it properly."

"Can you say now what your range refers to, Taylor?" Mutus asked again, in an apparent state of relaxation. At no time had she even glanced at her custom modded sniper rifle.

"Basically, it is my area of control," she replied. "Anything that falls inside that roughly spherical zone is mine to do with what I want."

"So... Like some sort of collective hive mind, or what...?"

Taylor shook her head. "No, it is much more precise than that. Each and every single creature is under my full, total, complete and undivided attention and possession, individually, regardless of how many there are - one to one trillion, it does not matter. For example, I could write a million different letters on a million different topics, all at the same time."

"Ah."

That one sound was likely the overflow of Mutus' mind shattering. I know my jaw dropped at the implications of what Taylor was saying. Her much earlier comment about her being 'backup' as well as her presence making 'runs too easy' now made all too much sense.

"What about..." I hesitated, and swallowed in nervousness. "The... Ah... 'Corruption and insanity' effects associated with insect spirits and shamans?"

"I might have had something like that," she replied, "that was passed when I first encountered the insect spirits with the... Fuller range of my powers. However, the reverse eventually occurred - instead of them influencing me, any of them within my area have my way of thinking super-imposed into their minds. With a minor degree of focus, all traces of that past association can be simply scrubbed away. Note that it doesn't necessarily make them good people - it just removes their native connection and alien way of thinking. Most of them would be lobotomized by the process."

"Huh." It was then my turn to be mind-blown.

"What was the whole 'pissed off' thing about from way back?" Mutus asked, finally recovered from the her mental shock.

Taylor's face tightened into a scowl. "I despise insect spirits," she said. "They require both an evil and stupid metahuman to bring them here, as well as the destruction of the soul of a host that they enter. They are utter parasites, and I will relish ridding the planet of them, section by section."

"So," I began, "does that mean that the Seattle metroplex is already...?"

Her expression fell. "Not yet, I'm sorry to say," she said, and looked at the floor. "I passed a message to the Marquis about what insect spirit related intelligence his group can come up with. I plan to compare the results of that with my own perceptions, and see if there are any obvious holes, both for my own sake and his. It is only a few more days, but... The metroplex will be cleared in under a week. You can count on that." Taylor looked at us both with an expression of fierce determination.

"Okay," I continued, "apart from my mind still being fragged to all drek right now, I think I'm wiz about all this. Mutus?" I checked out the elf.

She nodded slowly in reply, but did not say anything else. It's understandable - this juvie here in front of us is fragging powerful. At least she is tall, though - no jokes along the lines of "I thought you'd be bigger" could sensibly be sent her way.

"Whats the plan for the CCZ, then?" I asked her, and tried to look out the nearest window. The angle was all wrong, though - I wasn't able to check out below us.

"We are spiraling in to the center, slowly, so that I can gather all the insects together, regardless of their depth, and erase any available insect shamans. After that, I'll put out a welcome message to the world and try to solve some local problems before the end-game show."

"Show?"

Taylor didn't bother to reply, and instead gave me a large smile. I guess that I'll see it when everybody else does, then.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

3:23 PM. Juarez Benito High School, West of the Cermak Crater, Chicago Containment Zone, Chicago City, state of Illinois, UCAS.

I tuned down my audio filters to determine if it was still happening.

"...of Queens is Here. Ants Will Die. The Queen of Queens is Here. Flies Will Die. The Queen of Queens is Here. Termites Will Die. The Queen of Queens if Here. Wasps Will Die. The Queen of..."

It was. Almost since the moment we had descended to a safe distance away from the Cermak Crater, the 'welcome message' was being droned out. All the flying insect spirits of the entire CCZ, combined with their more mundane and Awakened variants, had formed a massive, dark cloud above us. The message physically resonated across the whole city and was likely scaring the drek out of everyone inside and around the CCZ. Only with the abilities of Ops N was I reassured that a nuke wasn't going to get dropped onto us.

I turned the filters back on and looked at Taylor. She had set herself up as a full-on warrior empress, with an insect themed, metallic suit of armour she pulled out of her own hammer-space. Her face was mostly exposed, covered with an obvious, full helm that blended 'go-ganger' and 'SWAT riot control' in a rather intimidating manner.

The changes to the wardrobes of Mutus and myself were limited only to some insect-themed full face-masks she provided. We stood at either side of her insect-shell based 'throne' and watched the procession continue to come in. It was a rapidly moving tide of insects of all types. Beyond the expected insect spirits - ants, wasps, roaches and so on - so too came regular sized insects, which hitched a ride on their greater cousins or moved among them.

The insectile parade was being sorted by some means only Taylor understood. From what I could get, nearly every one of them except the odd exception, queens included, were sent to the back rooms for 'processing.' Taylor had mentioned that she needed the raw material for her 'show,' and I shuddered to think what she meant by that.

I pulled up a baseball stats history file on my cybereye software and started reading, with some environmental alarms hooked to ensure I didn't miss anything. This might take a while.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

4:47 PM.

Nine women - all gangbangers with the same colour theme of black and blue, all drop dead gorgeous in their own way - came back into the space we were using as a throne room.

Taylor gestured for Mutus and myself to move closer, and we approached her insectoid throne from behind. At the same time, the women fell into three ordered ranks of three and knelt, in sequence, in front of it.

"You can move now," Taylor said, and accompanied her words with a gesture.

The still kneeling individuals only looked among each other, and remained in the same position. The front center woman, a very attractive, blazing green eyed strawberry blond, spoke first.

"Greetings -" Her words suddenly stopped. Both of her arms moved in front of her, and then she slowly broke her pinky, joint by joint. Once it was dangling off the end, the blond ripped it off with her teeth. After some chewing, she swallowed.

There was stark silence after that act. The blond's finger joint squirted blood for some seconds before her other hand went to cover it.

"You can talk now," Taylor finally said. She stared at the center blond as if challenging her to try anything - absolutely anything at all.

This is so fragging hardcore, I thought. If these 'women' weren't insects, I might even feel sorry for the poor dreks.

"Thank you for the feast, Queen," the blond said, and lowered her gaze to the ground. "We have grown tremendously because of them."

"Yes," Taylor replied, not even moving the slightest iota. "Yes, you have." She only breathed, and waited for the insect people to do more.

"What would you have of us, Queen?" The blond asked again, eyes still focused on the ground in front of her. The rest of the group had followed her example.

"Tell me who you are," Taylor replied, after a short pause.

"Vix-" The blond started to say.

"Wrong," Taylor replied. The same sequence of finger breaking and swallowing followed.

"Mantid-" She tried again.

"Wrong." Another finger.

"Insect-"

"Wrong." Another.

"Yours," another of the gangers pleaded out in desperation. There was a tense moment of anticipation that followed that comment, followed by a minor relaxation among them all.

"Correct," Taylor said. "Why are you still alive?"

"Because we can be useful to-"

"Wrong." One more finger.

"Because you haven't killed us yet!" The same tension followed.

"Correct," Taylor said again. "Understand that I despise you all. Your only redeeming feature is that you hunt insect spirits. I'm better at it then you will ever be. Your life, your existence and your very souls are mine to hold, crush and discard on a whim. The only chance you have of the most microscopic degree of self-determination is through absolute, willing, devoted and whole-hearted obedience. I will tolerate no white mutinies, slavish acts or presentations of sycophancy. I will leave you with a wide degree of freedom because I want you to doom yourselves. I want you to believe that you have some remote hope, some remote possibility of beating me at anything. Ever."

More silence. If there was a pin to drop, it would be easily heard.

"Draw your weapons," Taylor said. An assortment of different caliber pistols were taken out of their inner jacket pockets. "Approach me." They all closed around us, and edged past Mutus and myself with not even an eye flicker. "Press them against me." None of them moved. "That was an order." A series of finger breakings followed. Right afterwards, the barrels of the pistols were against her armour at different spots.

[T-Kia-Mutus: Mutus? Are you sure...?, I sent the elf across from me.

[T-Mutus-Kia: Just wait., she sent in reply.

Taylor's armour and helm disappeared with a flicker, replaced with a casual dress shirt, pants, and a thin cloth mask. The pistol barrels shifted slightly towards her, in order to maintain contact.

"Do what you think is most likely to continue your own existence," she said softly. There was a tint of uncertainty in her voice, that could have been calculated or unconscious.

One by one, they each very slowly withdrew their pistols and replaced them inside their jackets. Equally carefully, they returned to their earlier kneeling positions. The blond, 'Vix,' was the last, with her pistol pressed against the forehead of Taylor. They engaged in a brief staring contest that ended when Taylor gave the mantid woman the biggest smile possible. Please, it seemed to say, go ahead. Do it. She didn't.

"You have displayed intelligence of some tiny significance," Taylor said. "I now loathe and despise you microscopically less. You!" She pointed to the blond. "Come here." Taylor waggled a foot in front of herself, and the blond approached. With a hand-wave, Taylor pulled a few photos, a map and a multi-colour marker out of her hammer-space. "Your tasks are the following." She held up photos as she spoke. "This is Melissa Truman. She was in Catherine the Terrible's territory, here, as of less than two hours ago." A dot was marked on the map. Taylor repeated the same process for Dr. Edward Oden and Katherine Sitsu on different spots on the map. "These three are to be treated with the utmost respect. You are to bring them, with their positive regard towards you, to Parkoak School, to the east of the CZ border, here -" another dot "- by no later than five minutes to eight. You may tell them that they are to be extracted out of the CCZ, as well as any other true comments you wish. In addition to that, you are to secure the living, stable toxic shamans at these points and bring them as well." A large amount of dots were placed.

Taylor held the stack out to Vix, who took it.

"Any other insect spirits or insect shamans found are to be killed on sight," Taylor continued. "Disobey, fail or flee, and you all, along with any other mantids I find, will be killed without a thought as useless trash. Leave."

They all ran out in a blur of speed.

"Please wait a bit," Taylor said to the two of us. She went through a few shuddering breaths before waving us forward. She gave us a thin lipped smile and said, "Three quarters of me suffered for one quarter of ruthlessness. I had to keep on reminding myself that each and every one was a murderer, at the very least."

"I doubt a soft touch would have worked, Taylor," Mutus said, as she slung her long rifle over her shoulders. It did interesting things to her chest. "First impressions mean a lot. As long as you can carry through, they will be yours for as long as wanted."

"Thanks, Mutus," Taylor said, as she gave the elf a small smile. She turned to me. "What was your take on the whole thing, Kia?"

"You'd make an awesome warlord," I said, and nodded my head in emphasis. "I can easily imagine people geeking themselves rather than facing you on a bad day. And when you toss in Rainbow's resurrection abilities, well..." I let out a small laugh. "I'm just glad you've all decided to play nice, as the world wouldn't be able to handle the reverse of that."

"Lots of worlds wouldn't, I imagine," she spoke softly. "Was this... In the truest sense... 'Good'? The greater good? Helping to make the world here a better place?"

"At least this spot of it, sure," I replied. Mutus echoed my sentiment. "So... What's next for the scarily safe CCZ?"

She smiled, more genuinely this time, and said, "We'll be prepping for the six-thirty show and moving on west. Here come our first actors." A stream of large insects started to pour out of the back rooms of the high school. They looked like insect spirits, but were subtly different. I couldn't say why, though. "The mantids got the first pass on all the other insect spirits. They ate these creatures' life forces, for lack of better terms. I patched them up and improved them a little bit - all they have to do is last less than two hours, after all."

"Still won't spoil the show for us, chummer?" I asked her.

She shook her head with a grin, instead watching the insects pour out.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

7:43 PM. Parkoak School roof, East of the Containment Zone border, Chicago Containment Zone, Chicago City, state of Illinois, UCAS.

This must be the last song, I thought. It was almost eight, after all. I was watching the insects dance on top of the Containment Zone barrier with the telescopic features of my cybereyes. What had originally started as a massive synchronized act had slowly dwindled as they died - either from their own actions or the shots from the quarantine enforcement soldiers of Ares Macrotechnology, or more specifically, their Knight Errant brand security services.

[T-Kia-Mutus: What are they singing now?, I sent Mutus. She was beside me on the school roof, taking in the sights and sounds through the features of her chromed up sniper rifle. In this case, it was a rather high video resolution camera and long-range telescopic microphone.

[T-Mutus-Kia: "...I leave and heave a sigh and say goodbye; I'm glad to go, I cannot tell a lie; I flit, I float, I fleetly flee, I fly; The sun has gone to bed and so must I...", she sent back.

Hmm. I made some noises of contemplation. No fragging clue.

[T-Kia-Mutus: Any idea about this one?]

She shook her head, and her blue bangs swayed with the motion.

I pulled out my Umbrella computer pad and punched in the lyrics. It came up with yet another ancient selection, 'So Long Farewell' from a 1965, two dimensional movie by the name of 'The Sound of Music.' I passed over the info reference and she grunted in recognition.

[T-Kia-Mutus: Think that is close enough to the the mid-century for Cayman to like them? It is not the 1950's, but still..., I sent her.

She shrugged, and I kept quiet in response to her non-answer. The insects were doing their final bows to the outside, with each 'bow' resulting in another of the critters gutting itself and falling. When there was only one left - a single, overly large firefly insect spirit - it flew off in the direction outside the CCZ with something in its hands. It deployed a white, banner-like flag that read 'Performed By The Queen Mother Empress of Insects.' Seconds afterwards, a rather large caliber slug ripped it to pieces. Another bang came from below us, though it sounded more like an impact from a heavy duty truck.

"Guess the mantids made it under the deadline, then," I said, as I started towards the roof-top doorway.

"Nope," Mutus replied. "They are two minutes late." The sounds of her moving the tripod mounted rifle was the loudest thing on the roof.

Maybe I'll get to use my pistol on this 'escort' mission after all, I thought.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Evening. Main lounge, Sanctum. Mike/Sanctum's POV.

"Hey Tays," I addressed the Taylors as they flopped down around me. I paused the Nessi-upgraded 'news' on the ceiling based mega screen. "How was the Chicago Containment Zone?"

They only grumbled around me, and scooted in closer.

"What, that bad?" I asked, and pulled the nearest two closer to me. "What happened?"

"I cleared out the bugs and brought a few back," the closest Taylor replied.

"And...?" I prompted her.

"I was a so-called warlord and it was really, really easy." She let out a long sigh. "You know about mantids, right?" I nodded. "Well, I basically force-fed the entire insect spirit population of the CCZ to nine of them. It gave them a legendary boost to a number of qualities. After all, I didn't want to 'waste' the sacrifice all those past people had made in becoming insects in the first place. So... I treated them very harshly, gave them an impossible task and... They did it! Well... Two minutes late, but still. Yeah."

"Hmm," I replied. "What was the late penalty?"

"Death to them and all their kind," she mumbled into my shirt.

"So? I'll kill them in here, and they can be resurrected or not, per your preference. Or what do you really want?"

"I don't know," she said. "Something naively good, perhaps. Otherwise we'll just be like some damned megacorp, crushing everything in the name of useless profit, or some other crap like that."

I adjusted the cushions around us as best I could. "Perhaps, after I resurrected them, you could... Keep their lifebooks as well. You'd never be able to doubt what they are thinking or doing, and always be able to find them. Even if they die, I could bring them back to here."

"Isn't that rather a casual use of those books?" She asked me. "Slippery slope and all that, right Mike?" A pair of Taylors propped themselves up onto their elbows on my chest. "Pretty soon it can become 'the best way to get intelligence is to kill and raise everyone in my Domain.'" They stared at me.

"I'm placing this responsibility on you," I said. "You've already had my lifebook for a quite a while, and I trust you. How about... Ah... Cleansing the rest of that alien insect mindset out of them - changing it to your vastly superior... * alien passenger shard mindset, and you are censoring this again, aren't you, Queen Administrator? Sorry about the cramped space in there! * ...mindset instead. Maybe rip out their ability to make new mantids and a few other tweaks. Then we tell them the truth - that you won't be a warlord type queen, that you do expect them to work for us, you'll be aware of every second of their life from now on, and that they can never be free."

"Still seems kind of sucky, Mike," a Tay said.

I shrugged and said, "Well, they are a bunch of alien intelligence, soul destroying, extra-dimensional insects. It can't be all sunshines and roses all the time, unless we mandate such. Even then, they would start to chafe under the evil yoke of the harsh sun and foul roses."

"It'd be nice if something positive could come out of it," another Tay said, with a faint spark of hope in her voice.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Late evening. Main lounge, Sanctum. Mike/Sanctum's POV.

We had gone over their lifebooks while the nine mantids were dead, aided by comments by Nessi in regards to their past histories and memories. It wasn't a pretty picture. They considered humankind shallow, weak, ill-mannered, fearful, devoid of worth, and for their 'claiming' - by any definition of the word - whenever they want. They came only to this planet in order to breed - their own 'home' was too crowded. Attachments, sentiments and emotions - in the rare instances they show up, if ever - were considered strange mistakes. Their knowledge of the other insect kinds was that they were even worse, considering humanity nothing but cattle - the possibility of using human flesh as humanity's only redeeming feature.

"Tays," I addressed the four of them, now more shell-shocked then before, "what do you want out of this?"

"I don't think that I'll be able to pretend that they are ever normal people, Mike," the closest one replied. "And I wouldn't want to either. I'm guessing that finding and destroying their entire home plane will be a bit... Iffy...?"

"Only as far as far as Ziz disapproves," I replied. "Each and every single insect spirit we've processed had the metaphysical equivalent of 'planar coordinates' in their memories. We could set up a factory farm Portal blender and empty the area, but I don't know how long that would take - especially if it is something like a super-sized Dyson sphere mega-hive, or something even larger."

"We'll save that for later, then," the Taylor said. "Let them stew in their own over-crowded alien misery."

We shared a devilish grin between the five of us.

"Have you thought about how your insect-based bioenchantments would conflict with their own growth evolving powers?" I asked them. "If it is anything like mine and the item enchantments from the Sigil multiverse, you'd have serious problems mixing them."

"Right," a Taylor said, the word trailing off into her own introspection. "I'll just limit the modifications to their death and resurrection in here, and perhaps those personality modifications I mentioned...?"

"Weren't you the one telling me about 'slippery slope' before, Tays?"

They all glared at me in response. "For people, Mike. The formian ant-builder guy and our gargoyle store-keeper are more people then they are."

Now I waited in silence, with only an arched eyebrow to express my thoughts.

"Fine, fine," she capitulated, "I'd admit that they are sapients of some form, even if it is a cruelly alien type. Then... Just like picking up feral cats and raising them for your own, they should be fixed and spayed."

"I can agree to that," I replied, nodding. "So only one major change - taking out their ability to make more of themselves by any means?"

A chorus of agreement met me.

"I'll have them ready for you in the morning, okay?" I said, and some words of thanks were passed my way.

After a round of good-nights and sleep well hugs, we all went to bed in our respective suites.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Friday, August 31th, 2057, Morning. Main lounge, Sanctum. Mike/Sanctum's POV.

Once we had insisted that they completely drop the human facade, the 'version two' mantids were easier to deal with. Vix, more properly 'Vixen' or 'Blue Sky,' was the leader of their gang, the Desolation Angels. As to their fate, well... Roughly paraphrased, it went something like this:

"We are yours, Queen."

"It's too much effort to be your 'warlord' queen. I simply removed your ability to create more of yourself, but compensated with increasing your... Enjoyment of said attempts more." An annoyed glare gets sent my way. "You are all expected to work for the Umbrella Import Group; I'll be aware of every second of your lives from now on; you will never be freed, even in death - you will be brought back again for more."

"The UIG with the internationally known 'digital invisibility'?

"Yes."

"We will be able to continue hunting insect spirits with this company's support?"

"Yes."

"And we will be functionally immortal?"

"Yes."

"Our queen will be paying attention to every thought, word and action we make?"

"Yes...?"

"We are able to enjoy ourselves more now than before?"

"I guess so..."

"We are yours, Queen."

"Okay... Um... Great, then. Ah... Hey! Don't do that in here! Or to me! Or... To him!"

"Why are you letting them do that, Taylor?"

"...Shut up."

1.8 - "Was It Good For You Two?"

Monday, September 3rd, 2057, 5:17 AM (Shadowrun calendar). Sewers in the Tacoma district, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS. Kia's POV.

We had our internal mental chat system reconfigured to allow sub-groups. Kellan had been using it to good effect, with our current dual purpose run split into group channels. We were speeding down the sewers in some sort of armoured sled getup - Kellan, Cayman and myself.

[G1-Kellan: We finally get to hit those Azzies, and we don't even need to use regular digital invisibility., she sent out. It was a popular refrain of hers since we started this run. It could be considered both a hooding and a homerun, all in one. [G1-Kellan: We're spoofing them instead - beyond digital invisible, everything is being rendered 'biz as usual.']

She was third place among the four sleds that were tied together. When I asked Umbrella about these vehicles, he simply replied 'tinker-tech,' and smiled. I wasn't able to get anything more out of him, Ops N or Taylor, for that matter. Not a big deal, especially since it beats wasting hours down here. Each of the sleds were covered in some sort of active visual camouflage, as well as sound dampeners and anti-magic detection systems. Kellan was magically blind inside them, but at least they had an interior viewing window. It made the whole experience a lot less claustrophobic.

[G1-Kia: Agreed on the Azzies, chummer. What's the biz?, I sent back. This job was done very much on the run. We only just received a briefing about two Azzie levels that went into lock-down scarce hours ago due to some biohazard risks. That was why, in addition to these sleds of ours, we were wearing full environmental containment, armoured body suits.

[G1-Kellan: Break into the sub-levels, steal EVERYTHING useful, and use our stack of meat protein in the back as adaptable body double templates as needed. Some corp slot is going to be hiring runners against our two targets, but won't be ready for a day or longer - we're going in while the biohazard is still novahot., she sent. I can almost hear the grin in her text as I read it.

[G1-Cayman: Simple. I like it., he sent. Cayman was point for the sleds, with his being slightly more armoured. We were going fast enough that the odd sewer dwelling creature we encountered would not in the slightest enjoy the experience. There has already been some street cats and dogs, along with the odd ghouls and orks. Might have been rats, too, but I would have missed them. [G1-Cayman: Any wiz gear besides these hover sleds and suits?]

[G1-Kellan: Some. Cayman, we need you on explosives to tap through a concrete wall. The sleds can be used to generate a noise canceling effect at the same time. Beyond that, there is a Plastisteel-7 wall surrounding the primary lab area. We've nabbed an instability catalyst aerosol spray that will turn the material into something we can go through.]

He sent back some acknowledgements and we remained quiet. Some minutes later, the sleds all came to a stop by a sewer wall. The roof hatches popped open, and we all clambered out. Only a few stretches were needed to loosen up, as these suits were as easy to move in as clothing.

I drew in an exaggerated breath, and enjoyed the recycled air. Likely much, much better than the stench around us. While I had been breathing and scoping out the place, Cayman had managed to layer some plastic explosives around a square area on the wall. While he backed up a number of paces away, the sleds turned towards the target. One remote activation and soundless puff of air later, we had a brand new hole. Wizzer.

Kellan handed Cayman the spray bottle, and he used it on the Plastisteel-7 wall. It appeared as an off-white plastic, with an almost mirror-like gloss. As we watched, the sprayed surface area turned pink. It then went through a number a different stages, which started with light bubbling, steaming and finally, the losing of it's luster. Cayman tested it with a finger push, which went in and out with no trouble. He gave us a thumbs up and started to move through.

I followed right after, with Kellan behind me. In moments, I was submerged in a bubble-gum like material. I had to reach out to feel the ventilation shaft beyond - with its strictly plastic walls, it'd be melted and easily accessible from here. I hit the empty space and crawled forward, and saw Cayman ahead of me. Kellan was almost able to tap my feet before I moved out of the way.

[G1-Kellan: Right chummers, make sure that stuff is removed from you. We don't want it hardening on us., she sent, and led by example, and started to peel off pieces of the gummy, membranous material.

Cayman and myself followed suit. It took a few minutes for all traces to be removed. After that, we had to keep on moving. The ventilation shaft was a sanitary paradise compared to the sewers from earlier. We were only able to crawl over the masses of pipes and bundles of fiber-optic cable running throughout it.

[G1-Cayman: We won't be able to access the meat protein stores easily through this passage., he sent. Master of the obvious, he is. That storage sled was larger than the other three, and when you considered that we were having an awkward time in here... Well. It won't be happening.

[G1-Kellan: Null sweat, Cayman. We have another exit point planned - a bigger one, hopefully. Those sleds will be remotely redirected to that point.]

Yep, I thought to myself, Umbrella corp is absolutely novahot.

[G1-Kellan: Heads up - floor plan incoming.] Her message was followed with a wireframe map overlay of the Beta Section lab, as well as a more general minimap in the upper left corner of my vision. [G1-Kellan: We're lucky that we got here before everything started to break down. The cameras still work, so the Azzies will be relying on them rather then other means.]

I knew what she meant. All the digital manipulation in the world means frag-all to an astrally projecting mage.

[G1-Cayman: Coming up to a busted duct grating area. It has been burst open from this side. Checking.] Cayman paused before looking through the opening. Dim, pulsing, red-tinted light filled the duct from the opening, blocked somewhat by his presence. As nothing reacted to him, he slowly slid forward into the open space beyond.

I followed closely after, pressing myself against one of the small walls. Kellan came between us, with her hand up for silence. Her still pose suggested some use of magic.

[G1-Kellan: We've got two confirmed hostiles in this area. Cayman, straight ahead. Kia, to the left. Knock them out first if possible.] As she spoke, our wireframe map overlay changed to show two glowing points where the hostiles were located.

Cayman opened the door slowly, his pistol at the ready. I trailed him the same way and immediately turned to the side. Kellan kept updating the location of the hostiles.

With a silent burst of action, the door in front of me burst open. I reactively shot two silenced tranq-type bullets into him, but the momentum of his body carried him all the way to me. I sidestepped to avoid the collision. A cursory visual inspection revealed he was wearing a standard Azzie security uniform, but without a sidearm. A thump from off behind me revealed that Cayman had taken care of his target. I flattened myself to the nearest wall before checking in.

[G1-Kia: Just an orc guard here., I sent, and scanned the room. It was virtually intact, with lots of what looked like high-tech equipment filling it. Various specimens were in examination containers attached to the equipment. There were five doors are the outer walls, with four of them named 'A' through 'D,' with the one that three of us had came out of being 'C.' The only unopened lettered door was 'B.'

Cayman confirmed his target of being the same kind and prodded open the last door. Two more silenced shots were fired.

[G1-Cayman: Kellan, check this guy. He looks like a tech or something., he sent the message before turning back to the center of the room. He gave me a nod, signalling that he would stay there.

I started a more comprehensive search of the area. Anything that looked remotely electronic I tapped, with the odd pop up provided by Ops N telling me what it was. They were collectively bioengineering equipment, used for gene-splicing, DNA manipulation, and viral engineering. The paydata was found in the north-east corner of the room, in the form of a data storage unit and terminal computer. That last tap brought a smile to my masked face.

[G1-Kia: Ops N informed me of an Metavirus data file in here, now securely obtained. What's the situation on your end?, I sent them as I worked my way back to their side of the lab.

Cayman was still outside the door of the 'tech,' while Kellan was crouched in front of him. She waved me in, and I squatted beside her.

[T-Kellan-Kia: I've got an erase recommendation here., she sent me, as she pulled her hand away from the tech. [Typical insane corp doctor who caused this entire mess in the first place. By 'accident.' If he hadn't screwed up, the Azzies would be one step closer to an airborne mutagenic virus.] She looked at me.

I drew my hand across my throat in agreement.

[T-Kia-Kellan: Might find some more sick fragging dreks here. I'm all for helping shorten their lives. You alright with that?]

She merely shrugged, then pointed in Cayman's direction. I nodded.

[G1-Kia: Sick dreks confirmed. We've got one to be erased in a clandestine manner, likely more. Lets see if this floor has some convenient freaks to toss this drek to., I stood up and walked out as I sent it, and Cayman nodded at me.

I headed to the last unexplored area in the room, a heavy, unmarked metal door on the south wall. Per the wireframe overlay, there were two small rooms behind it. With one hand still holding my pistol, I pushed it open lightly. A quick scan revealed the last door on the west wall - a pair of large, vault-like slabs.

I entered the room and did a more through examination. It could best be described as 'morgue-like,' with a stainless steel table in the middle with a dead, dissected ork strapped onto it. As corpses don't need straps, the only conclusion I could come to was that he was alive before this all began.

Yeah, I thought. Definately going to be bleeding some drek here today.

There were masses of specimen jars filled with recognizable and unrecognizable organs and body parts, filling many shelves. They were categorized in some sort of unidentifiable code I couldn't be fragged to ask Ops N about.

I went to the vault-like double door and tapped it. Ops N did her usual magic, and they swung open. It revealed shelves of papers, data chips, and some beakers and test tubes. The most noteworthy thing was a carefully protected plastic container. It was wrapped in clear foam plastic, and contained six small, flat dishes of a gray-green culture. The container itself was marked with a large biohazard warning sign, and a small label stating 'Sample: Viral Strain I.'

[G1-Kia: How many of the portable one-shot scanners did we bring?, I asked, as I started to stack everything together. I examined it with a keen eye - it should all fit in one. If not, we'll dump the paper.

[G1-Cayman: Three., he sent, as he walked into the room. Kellan trailed beside him.

I didn't say anything, and simply let the pile speak for itself. Cayman and myself looked at Kellan, and she nodded. The hard guy pulled what looked like a fore-arm length tube off his back and handed it to me. I twisted the corners and it smoothly unfolded into a cube form. I cleared some space, placed it there, and opened up the top flap. The first item in was the viral sample. After that, it was all the data chips followed by as many papers that could fit without squishing anything. I sealed the top lid and looked back at the others. They didn't do anything.

With a shrug, I pressed the one button on the cube. A digital countdown on the side went down to zero from thirty, and the whole thing started to melt. Once it was a puddle, it turned further into dust and disappeared. We all left the room.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

6:39 AM. Entrance Hall, Beta Section, Aztechnology - Tacoma Research Park. Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

The tech's name was Dr. Simon Peterhoff. It was also 'giant millipede food.' We passed his unconscious body to those small, crawling monsters and they made short work of the Azzie doctor. We left the creatures alone, in case we'd need them again.

The presence of intact cameras was still reassuring, as too were Kellan's words that she did not detect any astral presences - apart from the guardian elementals. The intel Ops N had passed to us earlier assured us that those beings were only concerned about astral invaders, so we had no problems - yet.

I looked around the large hall. It must have been designed for stylish indirect lighting, as it looked harsh in the flashing glare of amber emergency strobe lights. Nothing else really stood out here, apart from a decent sized cluster of plants in the room center, and the steel door leading to Alpha section.

Cayman and Kellan were setting up some sort of temporary, biodegradable plastic-based airlock system around the large, steel door. I was on oversight. The necessity of my role was proved by the medium sized piles of unconscious creature bodies at both of the other entrances to this hall. There were giant cockroaches, flesh worms, giant millipedes and three different kinds of animal-based humanoids: tiger, wolf and bear.

[G1-Kellan: Kia, we're done here, c'mon in.]

I gave a mocking wave to the two stacks of bodies and headed to the transparent, tent-like airlock. It temporary deflated when Kellan let me in, but soon recovered its shape. A small device on the floor made some constant, rapid mist-like puffs as I watched it.

[G1-Kellan: Some more waiting involved., Kellan sent, as she looked at the steel door. In seconds, too slowly to notice unless you were staring right at it, the 'Alpha Section Access' door started to open. Once it had about a finger's width open clearance, she put the small, puffing device next to it. [This is a fascinating little device. Totally useless against areas that are not air-tight or versus people with their own air-supplies, what it does is fill open spaces with an entirely neutral gas that does nothing. Nothing, that is, except wait for the catalyst agent to be released into it. Then it nearly instantly becomes a very, very intense knock-out gas, combined with about ten minutes worth of memory removal. Anybody want to do the honours?] She held up a small, thumb-sized piece of equipment, which had a flip-top cap and a button underneath. The digital read-out on the side slowly crept to one hundred percent. She flicked the cap up, and I reached for the button.

Cayman pressed it first.

Frag you, chummer, I thought with a laugh.

Nothing crazy happened. Nothing was supposed to, so I guess that was for the best. The large 'Alpha Section Access' steel door opened all the way and we walked into an empty hallway. There was a door in front of us, and we slipped inside. No particular caution was made.

I looked around casually as Kellan went to the prone bodies. The place seemed like a large security room. It had a couple of office-style desks and chairs, along with some low tables covered with boxes and other small items. The southeast corner had a control panel with numerous video monitors.

[G1-Kellan: Alright. Let's make this easy for me. Three piles of unconscious people.] She pointed to different corners of the room as she continued. [That one is for people we're bringing with us, that one is for nobodies, and that last one is the... 'To be dusted' pile. Any questions?]

Cayman and me looked at each other, then back at Kellan. Guess not. We left to start gathering the sleeping masses.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

7:04 AM. Main Security Room, Alpha Section, Aztechnology - Tacoma Research Park. Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

All told, there were well over twenty bodies stacked in that guard room. I was especially grateful for the in-built safety features of the knock-out gas when I came across the ork prisoners - two women and four children. If it had been a 'dumb' gas, they'd have been overdosed and killed. Not something I'd want to happen just for our convenience. Kellan conveyed the same message to me with a slow nod and a thumbs up.

It might have been weak of me, but I was happy to see the way the stacks were arranged. The to-be-erased one was the smallest, holding only three people: a drek filled corp and two elite guards. The 'bring with' was substantially larger, being the six orcs, a prisoner doctor, and two Azzie mages. It was enough that we'd need the protein stacks.

Kellan caught me eyeing the stack of nine people and came to the same conclusion.

[G1-Kellan: We've got too many people to make this a simple 'invisible' run. We need to make it 'messy' instead., she sent out, standing up and stretching. Kellan had been mind probing every single one of the people that came in. Not physically exhausting, but straining in its own way.

[G1-Cayman: Works for me, chummer. How do you want to do it?, he sent. Cayman had been using this small break time we had to relax on one of the office chairs here. Considering that he moved nearly half again as much bodies as I did, there was no way I'd complain.

[G1-Kellan: Explosives, fire, and monsters, topped off with some reason the survivors are all clumped together and the missing people... Aren't., she sent and moved to a table to sit down as well.

I followed her actions. We stayed silent, except for the odd rejected notion. Things were taking long enough that Kellan was already talking about a 'cut off' point.

[G1-Kia: I got it!, I sent them, a novahot bulb of light illuminating my mind. They only sent half-curious gazes my way, as if to say 'really'? [Get this: kaiju! Go far enough back and there were ancient two-dee movies like Godzilla, Destroy All Monsters, Gamera, Mothra and more. Have tons of traces that some sort of monster creature rampaged through here, using electronic, magical and explosive traces! What do you you think?]

They were both silent.

[G1-Kellan: I was about to say that there would be no way we could pull it off, but Ops N volunteered her help. This will take a while, but if it works...] She laughed out loud, and had to calm her self down. [If it works, those Azzies are going to be drekking themselves for quite a while. Even if they find it to be a con, the sheer skill involved in it should be terrifying in itself. Let's do it!] She jumped up from her seat and gestured to the both of us. [Here is the first step...]

...

[No, I don't think we need to go so far as making drek samples.]

[How many parts should this body be torn into? Three? Four? FIVE?!]

[I want to save the whole 'having them drek themselves in terror' for the end. Otherwise, when we carry them...]

[Air flow is a big concern, especially with fires this big. We need to make sure the survivors actually do so.]

[How about acid piss?! There could be large streams and puddles of it! We could use toxic waste!]

[As amusing as having the creature eating their clothes and leaving them naked is, we won't be doing it.]

[Accidental 'on purpose' damage to the survivors is a calculated problem, along with their memory loss. I'll give a few altered, jumbled memories.]

...

As we sped away in the sleds, nine body balloons trailed behind us. A barely audible rumble trembled throughout the sewers upon the start of the timed explosives. We've got one stop to make before heading back to Umbrella - Wilhem Park, the past underground mall now used as an ork village. They might be grateful for the rescue, but we won't me stopping for a meet and greet. After all - we were never anywhere near the Azzie complex.

Invisible Rain, I thought. With a corp name like Umbrella Import Group, everybody would be laughing into their hands about us not being associated with them.

I shrugged, and smiled behind my armoured mask. Time to check with Ops N to see how she is managing my past contacts in southeast Asia. Maybe we'll reach Umbrella before Silla has to head over to the Draco Foundation and wish her good luck.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"DNA-DOA" (Mission adapted from 1E SR, DNA-DOA, 7301)

- Dead: Mr. Jorge Sanchez (Azzie 'efficiency' expert), Dr. Simon Peterhoff (bioengineering tech), 2 elite guards with shady pasts.

- Scapegoats: A scary scary Awakened monster! Rarrr!

- Damages: TONS! Smashed walls, broken equipment, trashed elevator, ventilation ducts and more, all in the Beta and Alpha sections of one of the buildings of the Aztechnology, Tacoma Research Park facility.

- Clued-in: The rescued orcs (slightly clued in), as well as the other 3 rescued people.

- Clueless: Everybody else, especially the Azzies. Biogene corp, who plans to run an op against the Azzies to acquire the files already gone (but will likely pull out upon seeing the damage).

- Humiliated: The Azzies!

- Extracted: 2 orc women, 4 orc children. Dr. Carol Owens, 'The Tailor,' designer of the original Metavirus (great mind in genetic engineering, friendly extraction, she was a badly treated and imprisoned 'employee'). Samuel Silver, wage mage (hostile, to be delivered to Marquis). Evelyn Franklin, former 'observer'/'special assistant' (and mage) of the dead Jorge Sanchez (mercenary mindset, for Marquis).

- Swag: Data chips and papers containing various records and experiment results, living sample of the Metavirus Strain I.

- Intelligence: The Metavirus details, specifications and files. Aztec: seasonal system defaults, usage records, general records, personnel data, misc restricted/security related files, backup files, archive files. E-mails from Dr. Carol Owens and Dr. Simon Peterhoff. All original, backup and archived files wiped from their systems, which was combined with a mass of other data corruption to cover our tracks.

- Future: The orcs in the Wilhem Park 'village' may be receptive to contact. Dr. Carol Owens can further develop the Metavirus (in-house at UIG, with Mary Falls, Inc, or some other location) or be kept in stasis. Aztechnology is rabidly frothing at the mouth in anger (and likely shitting themselves in fear, at least for a little while). The Marquis 'hostile drafted' forces continue to grow in strength. No reputation boosts from this mission as it was a totally unknown and off the books op.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Draco Foundation - FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE - Internal draft, first pass - D03/M09/Y57 - 3:17 PM

[Ed 1: Dammit, I hate rush jobs.]

[Ed 2: Hey! When Nadja says jump, we JUMP! And this one is rather high. Now then...]

[Ed 1: Include larger than usual dragon logo. Slightly larger than the UIG one, at least.]

[Ed 2: Do you actually WANT to piss off the UIG?]

[Ed 1: Frag, no! Normal size, then. Put theirs at the bottom next to their company details.]

3 September 2057

[Ed 1: Isn't this going to cause major waves when it is sent out the very same day we opened our doors to the public?]

[Ed 2: Not our problem. Besides... Did you hear about how all the board members got surprise 'gifts' of umbrellas? Delivered to right INSIDE their personal rooms, each with a card thanking them for their 'helpful and expedient nature'? No traces anywhere.]

[Ed 1: Drek. Even Nadja? Behind HER security?]

[Ed 2: Yeah. Every single umbrella was very very high quality. Easily worth 10k nuyen.]

[Ed 1: Who cares about the umbrellas!?]

[Ed 2: Do NOT drek on the umbrellas!]

[Ed 1: At least I now know why UIG's representative, director Silla Trebheart, was allowed in at the SAME time as Lofwyr. One of her guards passed one of his guards a letter, too.]

For more information, contact:

Sandra Daniel at the Draco Foundation

[Ed 1: I don't think Sandra can handle the fallout from this. We should recommend they have at least a small team on standby.]

[Ed 2: Agreed. Who were you thinking?]

[Ed 1: We'll put it out in the final draft. Actually, make it even simpler - 'Sandra Daniel and associates at the...']

[Ed 2: That works.]

Multiple Items of Dunkelzahn's Will Completed by the Umbrella Import Group

[Ed 2: It's accurate, but lacks a certain something. And where is the mention of the Draco Foundation?]

[Ed 1: What do you want me to put down, then? When we put down Dunkelzahn instead of the DF, it attempts to somewhat absolve us of the blame for this drek storm. We have to please UIG here. ...Anyways. Start thinking up some better versions. I'll do the same.]

The Draco Foundation is pleased to have rapidly carried out a number of items on the late Dunkelzahn's will with the assistance of the Umbrella Import Group. The below entries are the preliminary findings of the Foundation, and more extensive documentation will be revealed for each item tomorrow. All of the items listed below are eligible for the rewards on record.

[Ed 1: Stilted, but accurate. Seems distant.]

[Ed 2: Isn't that the idea? Can't have Nadja or any other board members calling them chummers, right?]

[Ed 1: True. Really fast processing of all this - the legal hours alone...]

[Ed 2: Remember Lofwyr? This was all paved in advance. 'Helpful and expedient'...]

[Ed 1: Drek. Yeah. Back to work, then.]

1) "To the first party to identify the victim in the accompanying photo and bring his five perpetrators to justice, I leave the access codes to my property in Paris. The Draco Foundation will release the codes upon receipt and verification of a complete account of the investigation, including the fate of the victim and the perpetrators."

[Ed 1: Attach the picture here, obviously. Five dreks in pointed hoods, holding weapons, circled around a kneeling metahuman. Somewhat off-angle and a building in the background to the right.]

The five men have been identified as [Ed 1: Put their full names in here, each a member of the Humanis Policlub at the time of the photo. The incident took place by the [Ed 1: Include building name. street, district, city and country] on the [Ed 1: Time and date info here. The minute and SECOND were provided, but we'll just stick to month.]. The incident involved the metahuman hate crime brutal assault and prolonged killing of [Ed 1: The victim's name, whose family mourned his loss.

[Ed 2: Get rid of the family reference. Since the Humanis Policlub can't strike back at UIG, they might go after the family members.]

[Ed 1: Can't. It is public knowledge, and certainly easier to track down now that this all happened.]

[Ed 2: Drek!]

[Ed 1: You said it. That date, though - only three days since the will was read. THREE fragging days!]

[Ed 2: If you compare that to finding of Big D's lairs, it doesn't seem quite that wiz.]

The five were dropped off at the [Ed 1: Name and location of the Lone Star police station., on the 18th of August, 2057. They were to be jailed for a number of other serious crimes, but were all shot and killed trying to escape by jumping off the roof less than a hour after they were processed. A stack of evidence relating to the specific crime implied in the photo was provided to the Draco Foundation. It included the exhumed remains of the victim, isolated DNA traces, the murder weapons, recorded confessions, and a large amount of Matrix records from prior to and after the event in question. Everything has matched the crime details perfectly.

[Ed 1: I'm almost thinking of hiring them, now.]

[Ed 2: Oh? What for?]

[Ed 1: An old family bracelet one of my past girlfriends ended up with. She's with a corp now, but I still see her wearing it when they go out in public.]

[Ed 2: Seems kind of low scale for the UIG.]

[Ed 1: I know. Next entry, then...]

The Draco Foundation has provided the UIG director, Silla Trebheart, with the access codes to the Paris property, along with the full legal ownership of the location.

[Ed 1: Director Silla Trebheart or the corp? Who collected?]

[Ed 2: The director. Seems kind of confusing, but apparently she is acting like a spokesperson for all of UIG's interests. No other name for anyone else on the corporation even exists.]

2) "I leave 100,000 nuyen for each of the following people to be rescued from the Chicago Containment Zone: James Delany, Dr. Edward Oden, Gregory Armtwister, Protacio Corcoran, Katherine Sitsu and Sissel McCarthy."

Katherine Sitsu and Dr. Edward Oden were escorted into the Draco Foundation building, where their identities were confirmed. Spoken testimonial evidence was also supplied for the confirmed death of Protacio Corcoran, while James Delany, Gregory Armtwister, and Sissel McCarthy were labeled as 'unable to be found.' Speculation declares the missing individuals as deceased hosts for insect spirits.

[Ed 1: This is pretty cut and dried. Go into a insect infested wasteland, find some people and come back out, all without raising a single alarm - and done in a few days.]

[Ed 2: Very funny.]

[Ed 1: Except that both Sitsu and Oden were heard mentioning not seeing a SINGLE insect on their very fast, escorted way out, by what appeared to be very attractive gangbangers. The only 'insect' references were from the whole 'Queen of Queens' business.]

[Ed 2: Have you listened to DJ Darco Smooth? Do you think...?]

[Ed 1: I DON'T think, and I certainly WON'T have nightmares. In other news - there are talks of Oden sitting on the board of the DIMR in the near future. Not till he recovers fully, of course.]

The total amount of 200,000 nuyen were provided for the rescue of the two survivors, and the Foundation thanked director Trebheart for the other information provided.

3) "I leave 1 million nuyen to any group or individual who ensures the safe return of Mary-Beth Tyre to her home. Mary-Beth was kidnapped April 30, 2051, just after her sixth birthday. She was last seen in Roanoke, Virginia. Her survival is critical."

Mary-Beth Tyre was escorted into the Draco Foundation building, where her identity was confirmed and she was reunited with her family. Her parents were already there, who had been supplied with two-way, first-class suborbital tickets to and from Washington, FDC. Details of her rescue related to an ant shaman named Crosetti, who was interested in turning Mary-Beth into an ant queen.

[Ed 2: Alright, what do you have for THIS one?]

[Ed 1: Mary-Beth was escorted out of the building she was held captive in by a single, tall brunette woman, who seemed to be in her late teens. Even though the kid reported being abducted and mistreated by what sounded like an ant shaman, there was NO traces of them when the pair left. It's like they all just disappeared.]

[Ed 2: Just like in the CCZ?]

[Ed 1: Exactly. On top of that - notice how nobody named WHO gave the tickets to the parents? It was UIG. They REALLY paved the way here.]

[Ed 2: So they are a corp with a soul? A terrifying, all-powerful, secretive corp with a soul? Just like the Universal Brotherhood?]

[Ed 1: Let's... Hope not. If so, I might just have to crack open some of my 'in case of world-ending' brain-bending BTL chips. ...That don't exist. And I didn't talk about.]

The amount of 1 million nuyen was provided for her rescue, along with the gratitude of Mary-Beth's parents.

4) "To the first party to develop a magic item that can be used by a mundane, I leave the medium-sized chunk of orichalcum I keep in my sock drawer at Lake Louise."

A volunteer from director Trebheart's guards demonstrated a prototype item called a 'Rod of Wonder.' Handled with care, the orichalcum coated wand required a heavy electrical power drain to operate. In it's first three uses, it (1) caused a 'stinking cloud' to be created; (2) reduced the guard to 1/12 of his height; (3) caused grass to grow out of concrete (wielded by another guard).

Draco Foundation non-Awakened users were also permitted to use the device, though only after they signed a waiver preventing any financial damages to accrue against the UIG. In the three remaining tries before the device burnt out, it (1) caused shimmering, blinding colours to play over a wide area; (2) generated something labeled 'faerie fire' to surround a target dummy; and (3) created a stream of several hundred large butterflies to pour forth, which lasted a brief while before disappearing.

The burn-out had the side effect of disintegrating the 'Rod of Wonder,' as well as parts of the attached cables and the space on ground around it where it fell. Trideo footage of the experiments will be released tomorrow. The official question in regards to the commercial release of 'magical items for mundanes' was estimated at two to three decades; this prototype cost several tens of millions of nuyen to build, as well as months of painstaking construction. Another demonstration is planned for a year and a half from now. On-site mages and shamans confirmed the magical nature of the demo, though they were unable to ascertain further details.

[Ed 1: Nothing much to say about this one, apart from how convenient it was for the demo item to disappear like that.]

[Ed 2: But you're not implying anything, of course.]

[Ed 1: Of course not... Drek.]

A fist-sized chunk of orichalcum was provided as a reward.

5) "To the first party to discover what lies behind the door of room 429 of the Saeder-Krupp offices in Berlin and report their findings to Lofwyr, I leave the Arrow of Red Dragon Slaying."

Lofwyr personally confirmed that the correct details were given to him. He provided no further information. The Arrow of Red Dragon Slaying was given to director Trebheart.

[Ed 1: I'm guessing that the information was contained in the letter from the director. Lofwyr seemed angrier than usual, but that might have just been due to the wait he was forced to undergo.]

[Ed 2: Yeah, though 'studies' of that dragon's anger are usually deadly.]

[Ed 1: Chip truth.]

6) "To the first party to capture and successfully breed Ecuadorean honey ants, I leave 8 million nuyen for the expansion of the breeding program."

A partly self-sustaining ant-farm was given to the Draco Foundation as a gift, along with trideo recordings of their development. The director said that they currently have interested parties who they are in talks with for being subcontractors for the ants' commercial development.

[Ed 1: Insects. Ants. Not suspicious at all. Nope.]

[Ed 2: I agree completely. Totally agree. Chip truth.]

The amount of 8 million nuyen was provided as a reward.

7) "To the first party to develop successful communication between metahumanity and dolphins, elephants and/or satyrs, I leave 40 million nuyen and his/her/their choice of any of the Cayman Islands."

A small family of dolphins were brought in by truck. They were contained in a large, portable pool, and only 'talked' with the prompting of fish snacks. While the Foundation was grateful, there was also a sense of disappointment at the narrow range of interests the creatures displayed. Notably, food, family, and sexual relations with each other. The devices that allowed communication between the researchers and the dolphins were self-adhesive metallic-appearing strips, that were easily placed on the exterior of the dolphins head and the upper roof of their mouth. The dolphin family, along with the pool and food supplies, were left with the Foundation for further study. The devices also enabled Matrix connections for the dolphins, but UIG were not yet eligible for that will bequeathment as it required dragon-based Matrix connections also.

[Ed 1: What the frag. Seriously. WHAT. THE. FRAG. I bet that if one of the items were 'I leave all my accounts and assets to the parties that nova the sun', UIG WOULD FIND A WAY TO DO IT! And... And... They'd make some sort of fragging magic shield for the planet. And... MOVE IT OUT OF THE WAY! Drek drek drek drek drek drek...]

[Ed 2: Relax, chummer! Wow.]

[Ed 1: Frag this. I'm hitting the BTLs tonight. I'll shag the whole HR department and the Board if it means I can get whatever holidays I can early.]

After consideration and consultation with full Board of the Draco Foundation, as well as director Trebheart, the decision to award all of the Cayman Islands to the UIG was made.

[Ed 1: OF COURSE it was. There was NO doubt in my mind. After all, there was NO way that the will meant just ONE of those islands. NO way.]

[Ed 2: Yeah...]

8) "To the first party to develop a self-motivational robotic unit that meets the specifications laid out by the Draco Foundation, I leave 10 million nuyen for continued research."

A fully mobile gynoid being was able to talk to Foundation researchers as well as undergo various on-site tests. Results determined that it was not remotely operated, nor was any magic or biological substances involved in the chassis. It met all the specifications required.

[Ed 1: Notice how nobody pointed out that those specifications were NOT YET RELEASED? Huh? Yeah, thought so...]

Director Trebheart stated that UIG would be interested in industrial robotic applications in the future, but weren't in any rush. They are not interested in subcontracting their technology at this time.

[Ed 1: Robot overlords. From Mars. Yeah. The pyramids, you know? They were in the pictures. They are ALIENS! Aliens AIs! Alien AI DRAGONS! That eat dragons. That are lizards. And grey men... And... And... They're everywhere! They're invisible! They... They... Ouch.]

[Ed 2: What happened?]

[Ed 1: Some bug bit me or something.]

[Ed 2: You wiz, chummer?]

[Ed 1: I'm so wiz. I'm fantastic. Wow. Calm. Deep breaths. Very calm... Hey?]

[Ed 2: What?]

[Ed 1: Want to shag after this edit pass?]

[Ed 2: Are you drekking me?]

[Ed 1: No. Chip truth. Me, you, the maintenance room on floor 2B. Wiz?]

[Ed 2: What the frag... Sure. Why not.]

[Ed 1: Wizzer!]

[Ed 2: Get this done quickly then.]

The amount of 10 million nuyen was provided as an incentive for continued research.

[Ed 1: 'Research.' Sure...]

[Ed 2: Hey, they could 'research' how to spend 10 million nuyen.]

10) "In order to discourage the proliferation of toxic shamans, I offer a bounty of 1 million nuyen on any toxic shamans captured alive and delivered to the Dunkelzahn Institute of Magical Research for the purposes of studying the effects of toxicity on the physical and astral presence of such shamans, and how they in turn impact the physical and astral world."

Representatives of the The DIMR were on hand to accept the seventeen securely bound individuals. All were confirmed on site as toxic shamans, and were additionally provided with trideo recordings of their respective magical and toxic acts. Upon asking for the source of the toxic shamans, director Trebheart merely stated for the records that "the CCZ, Chicago, the Seattle Metroplex and other areas were cleared of them."

[Ed 1: Seventeen? A part of me is wondering why the number is so low.]

[Ed 2: You didn't see the shape of those shamans? UIG really kept to the letter of the law here. They were ALIVE, and that is IT. Some were missing limbs, faces, lower parts of their jaws... At least one had his body from the waist down removed.]

[Ed 1: Frag.]

[Ed 2: Helpful living advice: don't be a toxic shaman. Or an insect shaman. Or an insect spirit. Or piss off the UIG.]

[Ed 1: Chip truth!]

A DIMR representative engaged in a closed room discussion with the director, and paid an undisclosed amount for the toxic shamans. Director Silla Trebheart approved of the nondisclosure.

[Ed 2: Guesses?]

[Ed 1: Simple - they don't want UIG to break their bank. If they bring in ten to twenty toxic shamans every month, the DIMR is gone. Instead, they come to some sort of 'arrangement.' What that would look like, I have no idea.]

[Ed 2: Much more than fancy umbrellas, that's for sure.]

That was the total of the items submitted for the consideration of the Draco Foundation, from Director Silla Trebheart of the Umbrella Import Group. We thank them for being able to help assist us in the execution of Dunkelzahn's will.

[Ed 1: What do you want to bet that they are holding back things?]

[Ed 2: Not taking that bet.]

The Draco Foundation

[Ed 1: Space for her signature here.]

Nadja Daviar, Chairperson and Head

[Ed 1: Thats it, then. We just include their name, or...? We should get a hold of Nadja. I heard rumours that she has a way of reaching them. Because we have NO contact info for these people - nothing!]

[Ed 2: I know! I can just imagine teams of shadowrunners, standing by a suborbital for a call from their Mr. Johnson, just waiting to be told WHERE to actually go. It would be hilarious, if it wasn't so fragging scary.]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Press Kit Attachment 1 - unofficial draft edit; ORIGINAL DOCUMENT NOT TO BE MODIFIED.

The Umbrella Import Group has some public announcements and, with appropriate recompense to the Foundation, they have agreed to pair it with their wider ranged release.

[Ed 1: 'Appropriate recompense' means what? 1 nuyen? 2 nuyen, maybe?]

[Ed 2: Nah. With all those million nuyen credsticks floating around, what is one or two being passed back to a chummer?]

[Ed 1: Drek. I'd be anyone's chummer for a million nuyen.]

[Ed 2: ANY one?]

[Ed 1: Slot off, chummer! The length of time might vary - 1 milisec to forever.]

In response to a number of wild speculation on various places on the Matrix, the UIG is formally stating these facts for public dispersal.

-- Attachment Begins --

1) Location: The UIG is based out of the Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

[Ed 1: That's it?]

[Ed 2: Yep.]

[Ed 1: Now the question is... Do they mean somewhere in the metroplex, or... ALL of it?]

[Ed 2: I so don't want to answer that.]

[Ed 1: The worse thing is that they could simply be lying. Frag, that would mess up a lot of upcoming runs.]

2) Contact: We can be reached via any form of text or e-mail based services. While maintaining a connection to an active Matrix hub, send out a message with the exact words and bolding 'Umbrella Import Group' somewhere in the text. If the address does not exist, it will be redirected to us instead of being rejected or bounced back to the point of origin. We will reply back to you if there is a suitable reason to do so.

[Ed 1: Anywhere in the world. Anywhere.]

[Ed 2: Well, they DID have a working robot, so... AI? Maybe? Some sort of text parser and forward system built on the foundation of the systems before the first crash?]

[Ed 1: I guess...]

3) Employees: Director Silla Trebheart is an employee of UIG. We also have a combined CEO, President, and sole stockholder. There are other employees as well.

[Ed 1: Oh frag off!]

[Ed 2: What, you don't find it funny?]

[Ed 1: Sure... Just... Drek. And the whole bit about ONE shareholder?]

[Ed 2: Yeah, I'm not laughing now.]

4) Digital Invisibility: Yes.

[Ed 1: Very funny. Ha, ha, ha.]

[Ed 2: Might that mean a boom in analog and magical defences, then?]

[Ed 1: Maybe that is what they want - list the weakest of their 'powers' so that people scramble to use things that they are even MORE strong against?]

[Ed 2: I don't care anymore. They should just say "we're coming at THIS time, so please unlock your doors and deliver the goods to us then."]

[Ed 1: That would work, until another shadowrunner group tried it.]

[Ed 2: And what do you think would happen to those fakers?]

[Ed 1: Ohhh... Good point!]

5) Founding: World-wide digital records clearly state that we have been around for over five years.

[Ed 1: Sure. Digital records. Right after DIGITAL invisibility. Do they pay DIGITAL taxes as well?]

[Ed 2: Look at the next entry...]

6) Taxes: World-wide digital records clearly state that we have been paying taxes for over five years.

[Ed 1: No words. My mind is drek here.]

[Ed 2: Those records state that they have been paying taxes to EVERYONE. Any place that has a government has gotten money. Somehow. Even Aztlan!]

[Ed 1: What do you think that some gonk government type is going to press them for back taxes?]

[Ed 2: Oh, they will do it. ONCE.]

[Ed 1: Chip truth!]

7) Physical Assets: Yes.

[Ed 2: I'll do it for you: Ha, ha, ha.]

[Ed 1: Thanks. Who knows what that means. A suit of clothes? Old era nuclear weapons? A giant, floating invisible sky castle?]

[Ed 2: All of the above?]

[Ed 1: Drek.]

8) Subcontracted Specialists: Only one available for public record. The Queen Mother Empress of Insects has an ongoing contract by us to keep the Seattle Metroplex cleared of insect spirits and insect shamans, and has done so for the first time on the date of Saturday, September 1st, 2057.

[Ed 1: That's confirmed, then. The millions - billions? Of droning insects in the CCZ, is now tied to the Queen of Queens and the UIG. Frag.]

[Ed 2: But it looks like she is only acting out against insects...?]

[Ed 1: Remember - there were toxic shamans in the CCZ. You were the one that told me what they looked like, so...]

[Ed 2: Oh, frag me.]

[Ed 1: Later.]

[Ed 2: Go drek yourself.]

UIG has been in turn hired to act as an intermediary for contact attempts towards her. Each and every individual attempt, regardless of job acceptance or not, requires a non-refundable deposit of one hundred thousand nuyen in advance, in the form of a certified credstick. This amount will be increased and stricter conditions put in place if it communication attempts are abused.

[Ed 1: Here we have someone who REALLY values their privacy. If you go to that expense and setup an ambush, well...]

[Ed 2: They're won't be enough left to bury?]

[Ed 1: Exactly!]

She has also requested that these specific quotes be attached to her name being mentioned.

- "I am capable of invisible hive eliminations. The Chicago Containment Zone was my resume to the world."

- "No Hive, no matter how Hidden it is, will be able to encroach upon the Seattle Metroplex."

[Ed 1: Code terms? Names, organizations, places?]

[Ed 2: No idea. Probably multiple layers of meaning here.]

9) Metahumanity Policies: We are open to, and accepting of, any sapients that are capable of living with each other without overt hostility.

[Ed 1: Dual purpose message there. The first part is that they welcome any and all, and the second being that any racist types are not welcome, which would likely include the Humanis Policlub AND the metahuman supremacist types.]

[Ed 2: Would that mean ghouls, too?]

[Ed 1: How would they be 'not hostile,' though?]

[Ed 2: Right. So... HOW do they 'welcome' them?]

[Ed 1: Ahhh... Good question.]

10) Advertising: None.

[Ed 1: Is this a good thing? I'm confused here.]

[Ed 2: Makes them more of a shadow type corp. What happens when a corp paints them in a negative light via other advertising?]

[Ed 1: What do you THINK happens when a corp TRIES?]

[Ed 2: Good point.]

11) Artificial Intelligence: Yes.

[Ed 1: Oh drek. Isn't Renraku sort of doing something along those lines?]

[Ed 2: I've heard rumours, sure. Somehow I'm thinking that UIG's is better, especially with that talking robot.]

[Ed 1: Renraku and MCT are not likely to be too happy about this.]

[Ed 2: Drek for them, then.]

[Ed 1: Chip truth, chummer.]

12) Security: Yes.

[Ed 1: Ha, ha, ha.]

[Ed 2: Ha, ha, ha, HA!]

[Ed 1: What?]

[Ed 2: I thought it was appropriate. At least it is honest.]

[Ed 1: Yeah.]

Thank you for your interest in the Umbrella Import Group.

Regards,

S.T.

Director Silla Trebheart

[Ed 1: What is she director of? It was never mentioned.]

[Ed 2: Public relations? Media? Foreign relations? Bulldrekking people? Take your pick.]

[Ed 1: All of the above!]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Press Kit Attachment 2 - Unofficial draft edit; SEND MODIFIED COPY TO 'TRUMAN CORP' BEFORE PUBLISHING.

Daniel Truman's youngest daughter, Melissa Truman, was safely recovered from the Chicago Containment Zone by the efforts of the 'Queen of Queens.' He, and the rest of his family is grateful for returning their Melissa to them.

[Ed 1: Notice how his name is first. Even with his own daughter in the CCZ and rescued, it still has to be about him.]

[Ed 2: Yeah. Lots of shady dealings in his corp's history. You know how his daughter split from the family?]

[Ed 1: She ran away from the protection detail when the CZ was going up. Can't have been a good life by any estimation. We can only hope that it would be better than what was in there.]

Mr. Truman engaged directer Silla Trebheart in a closed door session in regards to proper gratitude for services rendered, which would then be passed on to the 'Queen of Queens.'

[Ed 1: That is twice now.]

[Ed 2: The 'Queen of Queens' thing?]

[Ed 1: Yes. Seems like there is a disinclination to mention either the full title, the word 'insect' or the use of 'marks' to distance the name and title.]

[Ed 2: Another closed door session. Like the DIMR talk, who knows what deals they will come up with.]

Regards,

[Ed 1: Space for signature]

Daniel Truman

...

[Ed 1: Um. I just noticed a bracelet and a note on my desk. My past girlfriend's bracelet.]

[Ed 2: I'd say you were drekking me, except that I have one of those wiz umbrellas here. AND a note. 'Helpful and expedient,' right?]

[Ed 1: Chip truth. Though mine came with a two week long pass to one of those draga class hotels. I know about it - it's all inclusive. Very discreet.]

[Ed 2: Um... Lets not think about how they got here, and just get this done FAST. ]

[Ed 1: So we can go slow?]

[Ed 2: Frag off! ...Yes.]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Spooky time, Spooky date. Sanctum, in an Undisclosed Dark and Shadowy Sub-Demiplane.

Mike: "I now call this Council of Shadows to order."

Taylor: "Mike? Seriously?"

Mike: "What? I always wanted to say that. We've got the deep, high backed chairs and the shadows already, so... C'mon!"

Taylor: "One minute."

Mike: "Yes! ...The Dark Lord Mike now recognizes the additions to the Council of Shadows. Bring yourself forward, X."

X: "X brings itself forward... By silently counting to sixty."

Mike: "Curses, foiled again. I shall now bemoan the absence of a kitten to stroke in my lap while doing an overly dramatic evil laugh."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mike: "We've encountered a number of people here in this Shadowrun world. Some friendly, some not, and lots didn't even notice us. They can be roughly grouped into a few different types. On top of all those, there are still individuals from Earth Bet that we could reach out to, and the odd person from the Sigil multiverse."

Mike: "Runners include..."

Cayman, veteran street samurai.

Silla: "Cayman puts on a pretense of being unruffled and calm, but he is inwardly as excited as a child in a candy store. He has fully embraced the offer of free cyber and bio enhancements, as has used them extensively on himself for all functions except those directly related to weaponry. He continues to use his own sources of intelligence in addition to that of Ops N, and we encourage that behaviour - so much so, that we will fan it up again if it slows down. While our primary area of operations, the Seattle Metroplex, is the site of past heavy conflict between him and the Finnigan family of the Mafia, our security interference has prevented that from flaring up in any obvious way. His current issues revolve around being lonely and single, especially when seeing how the others are meshing together. Some social activities, perhaps supported by his interest in mid 20th century music, might help offset that."

Kellan Colt, hermetic mage leader.

Silla: "Kellan has taken to the leadership and 'friendly heart' role of the team rather well. On runs, her mistakes only tend to happen once - see the mission that involved the bunker busters - with her learning rather intensely from them. Even though her focus is that of a spirit supported mage with an interest in ancient civilizations, she has adapted to the free form nature of different run types excellently. She has freely requested and used Tinker-tech adapted from the weaknesses of past runs, regardless of conventional wisdom saying such items are 'impossible.' Cayman and Ma'fan continue to be her go-to people for their relevant professional advice, while Kia continues to be blind to the subtle interest she is displaying in him. While she hasn't formally requested anything around her past dead teammates, it is likely to come up at an awkward time. Her attachments to everyone may lead to further risks or tensions, which should hopefully be allayed through the healing abilities provided by us. The Azzie issue will be resolved in time and blood - theirs, hopefully."

Kia, trick shot, fast talker.

Silla: "Kia does not show it in the slightest, but the uprooting from the highly fast paced, social atmosphere of being a popular fixer in south east Asia has dulled him. The invisible nature of our runs is great in his eyes, but we haven't been making or supporting contacts at all. In a sense, we have been TOO invisible. The publicity boost from revealing the will item completions should change that. His cyberware is limited, based only on enhancements or replacements of his old items, as well as more specialized magitech eyes and sensory recordings. He continues to hold on to his moral and ethical stance, and carries that to the team. Nessi is doing well in her virtual act as the fixer he was in south east Asia, and provides detailed reports of what she has done. Kia rarely has to advise her as to when he would have done something differently."

Ma'Fan, expert cat burglar.

Silla: "Ma'fan's normal social isolation and preference for solo runs has been continually eroded by her relationship with Mutus. In spite of the very 'well together' front they show the rest of the group, it is more of an informal on again, off again thing. Her anti-tech curse was removed with no problems, but she still prefers her equipment to be either simple or magical in nature. The job based around the MCT's CEO katana was a grand deviation from her typical 'invisible' runs, and she waffles between panic and hyper excitement whenever she thinks about it. She would still like to go on more theft runs than we are doing. Ma'fan is currently building an extensive 'collection' and we are encouraging it."

Mutus, noble assassin.

Silla: "Mutus is taking well to being alive. Very funny, guys. Her friendly demeanour still masks a facade of a professional killer, and there is a part of her itching to improve the world through the application of sanctioned, lethal high caliber bullets. Her on and off again relationship with Ma'fan continues, with the closest they have gotten being Mutus cooking some of his favourite Italian food for her. Mutus has yet to really realize how well her singing voice has improved, doing only such in her showers - which we have no visual records of, thank you very much. She also has some cyber enhancements, with only her spurs being of notable use lately."

Winterhawk, stylish specialized mage.

Silla: "Winterhawk might be the one suffering most from the team system. He is more used to working alone or heading a team. Much like Kellan, his interest lies in artifacts and ancient civilizations, so our more 'typical' approach is slowly wearing him down. Some runs based around that, as well as either free or Rubikon based time to pursue his studies is encouraged. Kellan could also use the same. The 'brand' of Winterhawk is also been closely tied to UIB now, and that is iffy for the long term. We need to see what his goals and preferences are in regards to that."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mike: "There are those individuals that we have a relationship with of some form..."

Aban, enraged ethereal dragon.

Mike: "I've got a good idea of who to contact. As she is a great dragon, another great dragon would be the best bet. Hestaby has some overlapping interests in the will that I could use as motivation, while Schwartzkopf is intensely interested in magic. I could throw him some Sigil based material, or some of my own. Besides those two, Hualpa from Amazonia and Celedyr are both last resorts. The former I'd likely need to involve myself in in Atzlan war, while the latter I'd have to bring up some Machina Mind or Tinker-tech to be useful."

Desolation Angels, top three notables.

Taylor: "These ones stand out for some reason or another. Mara Suhar's human form is of East Indian descent, and her speciality - and previous occupation - was that of a trideo news anchor. She will be able to work in some media related capacity for UIG when not with me. Vixen and Linda Hayward both have a core of deadly violence - like all the mantids, really - but these two express it in complementary ways. Vixen is the smart, cold and ruthless dealer of death, while Linda has a 'girl next door' vibe that is capable of giving you a sunny smile while ripping out your entrails. I'll... Ah... Keep them well behaved. Very well behaved. Maybe get them to cook? Yeah... It's possible that there may be another stand-out mantid, but this is it for now."

Mary Falls, CEO & Company President of MFI.

Silla: "Ms. Falls seems to be doing rather well. She has adapted to the use of her new, armoured limo as well as her Hawai'ian boy-toy super operative. She continues to be professional, even handed and just in dealing with her employees, but not naive or clueless with competitors. It is likely she would have been killed via a wetwork squad within months, regardless of her security, simply by virtue of how this world works. I'm glad she is still around and look forward to when she can be closer associated with us. We should include some forms of serious defences from the astral plane for her. Some shared corporate meals would be appropriate also."

(SR 2E Paradise Lost, and 1.6)

- Sasha Griczuk/Bounder, former security chief of MFI, now the head of the new electronics division.

Silla: "He seems to have a friendly connection with his boss, Ms. Falls, more than the usual corp distance. It is indicative of how she treats her employees. Born Sasha Griczuk, his troll alias of Bounder was dropped when he made the jump from security chief to division head. We'll aim to give him lots of boosts and support."

(SR 2E Paradise Lost, and 1.6)

- Daniel Kappa, operative and personal expediter of MFI.

Mike: "Previously encountered by the team during their run in Hawai'i, the expediter has returned to Seattle and MFI. He indirectly works for Mary Falls, so as to not closely link the pair of them together. He has a good skill set and is a well-rounded operative for her."

(SR 2E Paradise Lost, and 1.6)

Marquis Bones, gentleman crime lord that is establishing his own organization, Noble Bones.

Mike: "Ah yes, the Marquis. He really embraced the 'theme' angle I gave him, going so far as to have his hair whitened and surround himself with bone-themed objects. He understands his role - the betterment of this world through the domination of the criminal underground - and is going to it with zest. I think that giving him an official 'good' stamp for his current actions helps relieve a lot of his internal stresses. His power of bone control was refined to not require exposed matter - he can control 'living' bone, regardless of coverings, if he can simply gauge where a person is. Bone-based sensory abilities helps with that. One of his easiest execution methods is a needle-like narrow shard of bone grown from inside the skull to puncture the brain, that can be retracted back into shapelessness before death even registers. Ah... Not that I approve of killing, of course. His own bones, that he can now manipulate without pain, are highly reinforced, armoured and denser than what can be obtained via any local-world enhancements."

- Number Man, hitman accountant that works for the Marquis.

Mike: "Another odd case here. Unlike the Marquis, he never faced any time in the Birdcage on Earth Bet, nor any other form of imprisonment. Instead, much like the rest of Cauldron, he was subtly pressured to be 'useful.' As this 'Shadowrun' place was the first opportunity for such, he is letting loose in a very restrained way. He works as a hitman, assassin, cleaner and accountant for the Marquis, as well as providing number-based services for Noble Bones, allies and those that can afford it. His ability to perceive the world as numbers has been enhanced with a minor suite of physical and time-dilating powers. He has also used some minor bio and cyberware, mostly for ease of use and convenience."

Leslie Chao, the new company president of Molokai Microtronics and under the thumb of UIB.

Silla: "She was just previously the new VP of personnel, replacing the the slaughtered one from earlier. As long as she can keep things from falling apart for a small time, we can gut the staff and skilled labour forces from their head offices and the many different no-longer-secret labs they have. We should move quick, as I expect them to fall apart in under a month - either from within or without."

(SR 2E Paradise Lost, and 1.6)

Twilight, spider-themed spirit and Eclipse, spider shaman. (DEAD)

Taylor: "They were murderers. Then they became mantid food and victims. I'm not giving magic users a 'pass' simply because they are insect themed. What they did in the past and to those Elemental band members... Good riddance to bad rubbish."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

M: "The people on the fringe would be..."

Pietr Fiegeton/Topal, storekeeper of lore & talismans.

Silla: "Just a regular storekeeper. Nothing special, but he is friendly. His past store is gone, but he is well on the way to recovery - especially with the funds from the Umbrella Import Group."

(1E - Bottled Demon, and 1.3)

Serena Day, ex-gang member with some decent talking skills.

Silla: "She was dropped off with cash and a word of thanks in Seattle, as well as a recommendation towards Noble Bones. She joined it on friendly terms, and can be seen occasionally around there talking up a storm on their behalf."

(SR 2E Paradise Lost, 1.6)

Captain Grissim, Lone Star captain, street cop legend.

Silla: "The only real contact we had with Captain Grissim was when Blackwing was delivered to him. He seemed happy about it, but less so when the elf's diplomatic immunity was waved around. He has chosen to never rise above the rank of captain - so far - and is the idol of many of the city's street cops. Concerned about the law, but more concerned about justice. That can be used in the future to separate the captain from the more corrupt aspects of Lone Star into something more along our lines."

(1E - Bottled Demon p45, and 1.3)

Glasgian Oakforest, proud owner of a false idol that lives in Tir Taimgire.

Mike: "Paraphrased from Ziz, the official word is that he is going to die from a terminal case of stupid. All we have to do is wait. Sounds good."

Blackwing, assassin and associate ambassador of Tir Taimgire.

Mike: "This guy is a pushover - at least to us. That is why it is rather curious as to why he seems to be on the fast-track to becoming some sort of significant persona in the Tir to the south, especially when the 'bottled demon' statue was a total bust. He must know where a lot of bodies are buried, and probably did a lot of that burying himself."

(1E - Bottled Demon p46, and 1.3)

Melissa Truman, daughter of the Truman corporate magnate.

Jessica: "She seems like a good kid, even if the whole 'spoiled brat' thing went through. Her time in the CCZ burned that out of her, and she is street-hardened to a degree that is nearly impossible to emulate elsewhere. We don't yet know if that will drain out of her with a return to the Truman family, or if she will retain a strong core. I hope she does well."

Dodger, elven decker, paired with Morgan, female AI.

Nessi: "Their story is a sweet, romantic one. It might not be as painless as Jess and Silla's, but we have managed to give them a reprieve from the online hunt sourced from Renraku, as well as gifted Morgan with a gynoid body that can host at Ultraviolet levels. For those not in the know, that means that it is capable of generating a full sensory experience for people 'jacked' into it, a capacity that is localized to less than a dozen sites worldwide. ...Such a primitive hi-tech world. Unbelievable. That body is anatomically correct, which they probably found out by now. Multiple times. Multiple places. Multiple positions. Hint, hint, Mike-ster."

Dr. Carol Owens, expert in biology and biochemistry

Mike: "She was picked up from the recent Azzie run. Kept in stasis for now until we know what to do with her. She was the developer of the Metavirus, and can still develop it further. Maybe we could gut 2M and give it to her? I'm open to ideas."

(1E - DNA-DOA, 1.8)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mike: "Moving on up from individuals, there are groups, teams and much, much larger organizations. Some we are close to - and typically grateful for such - while others we could even be very opposed to. ...And enjoying that very much."

Mike: "The mostly closely associated organizations with ourselves include..."

Noble Bones, the up-and-coming 'grey-black' criminal organization, headed by Marquis Bones (AKA 'The Marquis' from Earth Bet).

Mike: "We are essentially using his organization as a 'washing our hands of someone' place. Those ALOHA terrorists? The Azzie mages? Anybody that isn't worth full-on killing or too valuable to leave where they are falls into this middle space and gets sent his way whenever possible. He uses some expensive - so called, we provide it - means to wipe old DNA traces, ritual magic links and so on... Which we never accounted for with Nehaka. Dammit. Then he gives them a hard sell: work with me or die; betray me and die; serve professionally and prosper. It weeds out the stupid ones very quickly. Nessi-supplied reports, whenever the members of Bones go through a portal-scanner, aid in that process. His group's area of control is barely a few blocks, but it is well controlled, and the people there feel safer under their paid 'protection' than other sources. We aim to support him in ridding or allying with the entire criminal body of the Seattle Metroplex, and branching out from there. His reports state that some tensions are brewing in the local underworld, and we should expect it to explode in the coming months. With planning and the proper application of skill, we should all rise at least a little bit higher during that chaos. Note that Marquis, Number Man and a few of his select rankers have been through the kill-and-raise process in the Domain, in case we need to remotely resurrect them."

Notable Employees (alive for at least a few minutes):

- Samuel Silver, wage mage. Former Azzie, likely hostile.

- Evelyn Franklin, observer/special assistant. Former Azzie, mercenary mindset, likely friendly.

- Serena Day, fast/street talker. Former member of Haoles Don't Surf gang, confirmed friendly.

- Assorted ALOHA members, including: 3 Nene (Goose) shamans; Audrey Wilkes, kitchen and cleaning manager; Kehlani and Karia, elven musicians; 4 physical adepts; Merill Toyoda, accountant and financial manager; Peter Wong and Peter Chan, computer techs and programmers; 5 deckers (Jan, Kira, Flash, ?, ?); John Kalakaua, veteran decker; Lili Kalakaua, daughter of John and decker prodigy; 4 apprentice mages; 3 chemists; Cassidy Kane, experienced mage; Walker, Apapane, Akialoa, senior mages. Likely all hostile.

Desolation Angels, small gang of human women mantids.

Taylor: "The gang emerged from the ruins of the Chicago Containment Zone as a collection of predator insects clothed in the appearances of beautiful female humans. They incorporated strong willed women that were trapped in the CCZ and grew. The number topped out at twelve, but three were out of the city when I processed it. I will continue to upgrade their powers, in clusters of three via insect spirit consumption, until a point of diminishing returns is reached. I think that the core - or 'super power upgraded' batch - will be kept at twelve individuals; four groups of three, with a possible exception of more stand-outs in same sized groups. This 'core' group will be monitored and changed to be mostly alike, power-wise, regardless of how stupid Mike was. Regardless, the gang - as it was - is gone. The rest will just be resurrecting mantis shock troops, pulled out of their cover locations the first time they die and their deaths can't be covered up perfectly."

Empowerment Coalition, female-only organization of strong-willed, key-placed individuals.

Taylor: "This one grew from Anne Penchyk, an ork metahuman rights activist and professional businesswoman, who teamed up with the Desolation Angels mantids. It could be considered a sort of elite feminist empowerment organization, but their driving goals are to defeat the Hidden Hive, as well as the other remainders of the Universal Brotherhood and insect spirits, world-wide. It is a cabal of powerful mantis spirits plus a few strong-minded human and meta-human allies that exist in governments and certain corporations. I intend to co-opt the whole organization or disband it, depending on who is involved. All the mantids will be rendered 'sterile,' and, with Nessi's support, will be continually monitored via regular passage through a portal-scanner setup and/or something simpler, like drones or non-mantid monitoring insects."

(Anne Penchyk - 2E - Super Tuesday p73)

Mary Falls, Inc., a midrange food manufacturer based out of Seattle.

Silla: "It is headed and fully owned by Mary Falls herself. It originally specialized in processed food products, and has recently branched out with the AFDs. The Anti-flatlining Devices have just started to hit the market and they are selling like crazy. They should be pouring out of her factories until the megacorps get black ice to defeat them, in which case our 'Version 2' will trump them - pending on serious negotiations with Ms. Falls. In order to protect her, her employees and our investment in them, we have multiple layers of passive and active security at all times around them. We should ideally have a more definite solution for them when we move to 'Version 2.' They are also our top candidates for the Ecuadorean honey ants, though supplying them to the company would be a very public declaration of their connection to us and would make them the only visible target our assorted antagonists have. In other words - NOT recommended to do so at this time."

The Draco Foundation, dedicated to handling the affairs related to the late dragon's will.

Mike: "I'll be the first to admit that we have been... Well... I... Have been rather obnoxious in regards to getting their cooperation. They have a lot of clout, but we want a friendly alliance rather than something done just by the threat of force or implications of such. We can likely support them in a quite a few ways, such as being a guaranteer for physical assets or perhaps getting between them and the UCAS government with creative tax solutions and alternatives. Ultimately, they are one of the biggest 'white knights' around, even if that 'white' is closer to a shade of light grey. I don't want to tarnish that."

The 300, elite, life-sworn private army of Sanctum.

Mike: "One of the things that doesn't always go to the forefront of my mind is that this group is expendable in everything except their very souls. Their bodies can get remade and their equipment restored, but their souls are not so much - unless the heavy magic is whipped out. So when there is no risk to that particular commodity, the Three Hundred can literally do suicide runs, every single day, in complete, professional confidence and assurance in that they WILL BE BACK. Truthfully, they are so elite that it runs the risk that Taylor and myself face: opponents are either too tough for them or they totally curb-stomp them. In the interests of training, they have been using scenarios, sourced from the memories of shadowrunners and other professionals world wide, played through in the Rainbow Rubikon so that they are all already grandmaster class shadowrunners in addition to all their other qualities. On top of that, add in the ability to insert them anywhere via portals and well... What's to say, really? I'm grateful that they have honoured me with their presence, and I pay that back with the highest standard and quality of living possible."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mike: "In the middle, there are the neutral and moderate organizations. Some of these we want closer relationships with, or they might develop into problems. They include..."

Lone Star, UCAS-sourced private security company.

Silla: "We haven't had much involvement with them. All of our ops have been so low key that they haven't been encountered. The only real exception was when we had Blackwing and his two associates dropped off there. Thankfully, it goes both ways - apart from that one incident, they don't have anything on us. The Noble Bones group has had more interactions with them, but even then, things have been kept professional. The Marquis level of professional."

The Spiders, street gang, spider themed and hating bug spirits.

Taylor: "Spiders. Bug spirit killers. SO WHAT, I say. Yet another bunch of murderers, brain-washers, kidnappers, and organleggers. Led by a spider shaman? Fantastic. One more group that is going to go, and it better be damn soon."

(2E Shadowrun Companion p126)

UCAS Government, the United Canadian and American States government.

Silla: "Not much involvement with them either. I expect that will change soon, given how we put out our pseudo-contact information and tax issues with the will-related finances and more. If we could help them purge insect spirits, or perhaps start up a line of pre-paid 'service' credit, all the better."

Great Dragons, those flame-spitting giant lizards.

- Lung, Great Dragon.

Nessi: "He has influence and control over a large amount of the Chinese Triads. However, he keeps a very 'claws off' approach to his dealings, so were are unlikely to face him personally. His background manipulations will be interesting to see."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mike: "There are also some very antagonized organizations, they include..."

The Universal Brotherhood, the leftover remains of the insect spirit-backed cult.

Taylor: "Here now, gone later. Or so I intend. I'll keep everyone posted if something comes up."

The Hidden Hive, undercover splinter group of the Universal Brotherhood.

Taylor: "From what I picked up from the mantids and Nessi, the Hidden Hive is a splinter group of the Universal Brotherhood, the cult-like organization that was used as a front for turning people into insect spirit hosts. They used deep cover agents in the UCAS government to survive the purge. The 'good merges' - the ones that can appear as human and potentially also mask their auras - have dispersed and called themselves this. They aim to insinuate themselves into various positions of power in order to advance the insect agenda, and have already infiltrated the UCAS and possibly the governments of other nations in North America. The mantids only know of wasp spirits being used so far. I intend to kill them all, via feeding them to those same mantids. However, being altruistic about it might do more harm than good. Unless some governments are really stubborn, corrupt, or incapable, I should be able to leverage clearing of an area into at least some benefits for UIG - even if it is just tax breaks."

Ares Macrotechnology, UCAS-sourced AAA megacorp.

Mike: "Well. We've got a decent amount of reasons to be pissed at them, and so too them to us. The most overt actions 'we' have made are courtesy of our lovely Queen of Queens over here, which bypassed the whole need for their forces and likely cut off their weapon testing process. Speaking of which, we should pick up some of that Strain-III from their labs - and remove all traces of it otherwise."

ALOHA, a Hawai'i-based terrorist organization. (DEAD)

Mike: "They were dissolved through a combination of arrests, deaths, and hand-offs to Noble Bones. There may be less than a dozen members left worldwide, but with their sponsoring dragon, Naheka, in a different universe altogether, and their finances gutted, they have nothing left to stand on."

Veil, a governmental cover-up agency whose purpose it is is to suppress the true news and nature of the Mars explorations.

Mike: "There was only a short interaction with this agency, during the run on the space-based storage facility. A team of theirs was encountered, subdued, memory wiped of the past day, and returned intact to their core base of operations. They are hopefully shitting bricks and won't try to pry. Tensions might flare up with them again if we have a good enough reason to release the truth behind the Mars photographs, though I don't yet see a situation that would benefit from that."

Mitsuhama Computer Technologies, Japan-sourced AAA megacorp with Yakuza ties.

Mike: "Toshiro Mitsuhama is the President and CEO of MCT. He is also the very NON-proud owner of a floppy donkey dildo. Due to their so called 'zero-zero' policies being broken and the theft of his bequeathed katana being blamed on an internal source, there is a lot of inner chaos happening. I'm smiling. You smiling? Excellent!"

Humanis Policlub, a racist, human-centric and human supremacy political club.

Mike: "They are like modern Nazis and racists, all rolled up into one. We'll have a lot of fun smacking them down, but will have to be careful to limit collateral and blow back onto others. Note that Karl Brackhaven, the uncle of Kenneth Brackhaven, is the head of the Humanis Policlub chapter in Seattle. Therefore him, and the Humanis chapter here, are very well funded. Let's put an end to that, shall we?" (1.7)

Aztechnology, Aztlan-sourced AAA megacorp with shady dealings.

Silla: "The Azzies are the company that those in the know love to hate. They have a fantastic PR department but a much shadier truth, which encompasses blood magic, sacrifices and other typical megacorp miseries. We dealt them a rather hard bop on the nose with the run on the Tacoma Research Park facility. Their top researchers were removed or killed, along with a top exec and some elite guards. Two levels of the facility were utterly trashed, and all this was laid to blame by the feet of a rampaging monster. Easily millions in damages, if not tens of millions. We're looking forward to their responses very much - Marquis could always use some more draftees."

Great Dragons, those flame-spitting giant lizards.

- Ryumyo, Great Dragon. He had ties to Naheka (feathered dragon, captured, kept in stasis in Sanctum) and ALOHA (Hawai'i terrorist organization, destroyed), and has current various Yakuza factions that he controls. The Yakuza are then in turn connected to the AAA megacorp MCT, so things can get bloody. Bloody interesting. (1.6)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mike: "We're not just sitting here, twiddling our thumbs. We pretend to do things, too! Some of our operations include..."

Worldwide Organized Crime Take-over, (See 'Noble Bones' in 'allied organizations.')

Blood Mage Cleanup, blood mages use their own and others blood and lethal sacrifices to fuel their magics. (380/~500)

Nessi: "I've located around three hundred and eighty confirmed blood mages world wide, with their work being confirmed by trideo recording - either actual or merely created. They are scattered around the world, with Ziz-based final numbers having the full cap at somewhere under five hundred."

Toxic Shaman Cleanup, toxic shamans are twisted, polluted or otherwise wrong versions of normal shamanic totems. (624/~1000)

Nessi: "A large amount of six hundred and twenty four toxic shamans have been confirmed world wide, though much more are expected, especially in and around the Yucatan Peninsula. Ziz has again confirmed the final number, which in this case is somewhere around one thousand."

Insect Purge, remove insect spirits, except mantids, from the world.

Taylor: "My first public acts as the Queen of Queens... Besides saying that without laughing... Was to clear out the Chicago Containment Zone - and the greater Chicago area as I left - of insect spirits and shamans. The entire Seattle Metroplex was next. I intend to maintain that level of insect absence in the Metroplex, but doing other locations world wide has a number of complications. Even pointing out that an insect hive is somewhere could draw negative attention, as the first immediate suspicion would be that I put it there. Idiots. Anyways. I'll first be trying to get some form of benefits for myself or UIG - maybe test it out via disposables first? - and if that doesn't work, the semi-public face of the 'allied' Empowerment Coalition followed by the covert actions of the Desolation Angels will be used. I'm giving myself a personal soft deadline of a year to hit all but the smallest hives and lowest placed and ranked deep cover agents. UCAS is supposed to have a bounty system in place for insect spirits and shamans, but that tends to just be for known ones. I'd have to arrange deals on a case by case basis if they aren't."

World Corporate Take-over, take over the megacorps. (DROPPED)

Mike: "Drawing from the Marquis example - and perhaps much more realistic goals - I've totally dropped the idea of a world corporate take-over. It is not my style or preference at all, and the benefits gained would be overweighted by the responsibilities and complications. Instead, I'm staying deliberately local and keeping allies self-sufficient."

Metroplex Take-over, control the Seattle Metroplex.

Mike: "There are many, many layers to this one, single plan. Just seeing what is involved in 'acquiring' the whole of a single metroplex impressed me greatly, and showed me how foolish such an ambition would be in regards to the whole planet. For the Seattle Metroplex, it involves corporate interdependency, utility supplying, real estate ownership, underworld control, political domination, UCAS counter-intelligence, large cash flows, and ultimately, the separation from the UCAS and defence against the vultures afterwards. Some of these can be done in advance, others require laying groundwork first, while the last ones can be done only near the final vote and transition. Friends, allies and alliances need to be created and nurtured at all levels - we aren't even close to that yet."

Renraku Arcology Purchase, the downtown Renraku arcology.

Mike: "The goal here is outright semi-friendly purchase of the structure, under the guise of 'helping Renraku out.' (Or any other organization that buys it) We have to be careful not to bounce back up too fast afterwards, as it is supposed to be a 'cursed' site, in the magical and technological senses. Some apparent accidents that help out allied organizations, as well as enemies, will do well to support that image. The 'Financial Suicide' part of Renraku is slated to begin less than a month from now. It will heavily impact their operations from two months from now and continually escalate. The Arcology will be the basis for a number of well 'excused' services from myself, such as purified water, sewage treatment, power generation and so on. Tinker and magi-tech based versions of those services can be installed into the building when we acquire it. I'll be continuing to brainstorm ideas for what to physically locate there, and welcome ideas from all of you. It is intended to be incredibly internally modular, as well as capable of continual mild growth. The planned overall structure should end up being more rectangular than pyramidal-like."

Financial Suicide Brainstorm:

- Point of Sale: Items cost inverse value, giving the shoppers the amount they 'bought' in nuyen back.

- Sewer Reversal: Sewage and water pipes back up and/or reverse, spewing liquid wastes into homes, clear water and more.

- Security Glitches: Misread, down and upgraded security settings. Executives being mistaken for prisoners, homeless squatters getting redirected into high profile areas.

- Helipad Redirection: Automatic Air Traffic Control has exec aircraft sent to lower levels and mall-based craft to the roof.

- Ship Cargo Redirection: Mislabeled cargo containers being sent out empty or with raw materials; finished goods being sent to various remote dumps.

- Not My Fault: All blame for issues can be attributed to multiple factors, such as shadowrunning teams, magic, Matrix attacks, internal sabotage, Renraku screw ups and more. No direct blame ever put to the 'in development' Renraku AI.

- Noble Bones Bonuses: A lot of redirected or personally profitable opportunities are 'leaked' to Noble Bones so that they can exploit the situation.

- False Alarms: The entire Arcology goes into emergency lock-down on a random, irregular basis, as well as blare alarms through at different times and dates - especially inside the executive bedrooms late at night. Random 'secure' Matrix cut offs from the world at large.

- Unsecure Matrix: The internal ICE seems to be mindless and/or self-destructive. Attacking deckers constantly raid the site for paydata, remote manipulation and more.

- Service and Utility Outages: Power brown outs and black outs, water shortages. Random (but safe) slow down and shut downs of their three reactors.

- Red Samurai: Honour bound and trained into racism and brutal effectiveness, their armour and weaponry has special meaning. We intend for them to disappear - repeatedly, rapidly and often.

- Shadowrunner Friendly: Opposed shadowrun teams will have easy times going into and out of the arcology.

- Mall Problems: Run bad advertising, mild regular food poisoning, horrible smells, broken washrooms, etc.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mike: "We've got mega-bucks! Not nearly as much as the AAA megacorps, but enough to throw it around as needed. The ongoing income sources include..."

Grey accounts, any account that is unlisted, long term inactive, or otherwise 'unofficial.'

Nessi: "Some of these accounts are truly massive. Rather then simply sweep them out, I've moved them around so that they can be used as interest generating, dividend and cash returning sources. The many obviously active, high traffic black ops accounts I've left untouched. So nobody needs to worry about finances, declared or otherwise. We could cause an interesting ripple by pulling it all out and spending it, but there is no need - yet. Other specific high profile accounts hit include:"

- ALOHA organization.

- ALOHA individual members.

- Naheka, feathered dragon.

- Insects and insect spirits. Any of them that could be positively identified, without dependents, had their accounts subtly emptied. Includes that of the Desolation Angels.

- Toxic shamans.

- Molokai Microtronics executives.

- Four Zurich-Orbital accounts. The ones referenced in Big D's will, being gifted to the 'first party to develop an efficient and effective Matrix connection for dolphins, elephants and/or satyrs, and dragons.'

Online gambling, the casinos of the Matrix.

Nessi: "Ziz has been hitting the online gambling dens rather hard. They would ban her, but disasters seem to spring up whenever such happens. They just count the losses sent her way as new standard operating costs. Her gambling habit is also raking in tons of money."

Protection rackets, squeezing the little guys for pocket change.

Silla: "2M is the only corporation we've applied this process to. They are fading fast and this is just one stick on the camel's back. Not much income generated this way."

Contributions of the 300, our elite mini-army chips in.

Silla: "The Three Hundred have been treating their time here as a holiday. Traveling around in groups, and supported by foolproof fake identities, they have toured, fought, and screwed around. Some of the more productive have tried their hand at income generating methods and building up more genuine backgrounds. Regardless of all this, they are keeping themselves in top shape. Income obtained via this method is rather low, but the positive attitude with which it is given is welcome."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mike: "Apart from the regular sources, there are also some one-shots cash granters. They include..."

Dragon Lairs, the hoards of the big, fire-spitting lizards.

- Dunkelzahn, assassinated president dragon. His three hidden hoards were found via mass drone and disposable time-line use. Ma'Fan, Kellan and Winterhawk are to empty it after doing the same to Naheka's lairs.

- Naheka, feathered dragon. Abducted, and his hoard and lairs claimed. To be emptied by the trio of Ma'Fan, Kellan and Winterhawk.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mike: "Besides the glorious Domain of Sanctum - you're welcome very much - we have other properties and real estate of significance, such as..."

Lots of Rooms, small places around the world.

Silla: "We acquired, rented, bought, or squatted in small spaces throughout the world. They act as hubs for the Three Hundred currently, with no other planned operations. They all look nearly identical and can be disguised as generic abandoned or messy rooms in a moment's notice. Most of them are also drive-through friendly, providing excusable cover and entrance locations."

Paris Property, a historical mansion in Paris, France.

Mike: "Another location to be armoured, 'sealed' and turned into a 'tricked' Domain spot, it is located in one of the more exclusive regions of Paris. The district is covered by architectural design codes and the like, but otherwise is a normal, over-sized house with all the modern features. Then you consider it is inside my Domain... The building is burdened with lots of taxes, but hopefully the city will provide some interesting sights. Social, cultural and legal barriers may be a hassle, though."

(Shadows of Europe p79)

Cayman Islands, they are located to the north west of Jamaica and south west of Cuba.

Mike: "These are a total of three separate islands. Two small ones shaped like rectangles, about 20 km by 2 km, and one that looks like the letter 'F', about 40 by 20 km. The two paired ones are to be 'domed' and completely encased, with the whole 'false location' trick being used on them so that I could be 'on' them and we could use it as a little island paradise. The end nearest the big island will have a very guarded, multi-stage air-and-water-and-Portal lock system for official entry and exit. Needless to say, anybody else on those two small islands will be relocated to the larger one. Some very obvious defences will be placed on the dome and in the water around it. The larger one I hope to turn into a combination nova-hot resort cluster, night club zone, smuggler's haven, warehousing, money laundering nexus and more. Throw in a hospital-clinic and sea vehicle repair and customization service, and I'll be content. Ideally I could hoist that whole operation off onto somebody else - I just want to concentrate on the Seattle Metroplex. ...Or we could do something else completely, like wait to see if some squatters or covert agents show up."

Seattle Metroplex, the city-state itself consists of nearly 4,000 km2 of space.

Mike: "General real estate levels are low. Lots of places are locked in with long-term hoarders and keepers. We need a front organization or scheme to acquire more land, even if it is in the Barrens."

Noble Bones Territory, (see Noble Bones)

Renraku Arcology, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS. (NOT YET)

Mike: "I am confident enough in the medium-term obtainment of the Arcology that I have started expansion plans. These plans were based on details corresponding to the geographical limitations of corporate extraterritoriality. Specifically, how it extends skywards up, and down to the center of the Earth as a cone. As you may have guessed from this, I'm planning on adding more sub-basement layers. I'll be starting immediately after this meeting, with plans based on a combination of drones and the support of some custom bugs from Taylor. This would be kept secret from Renraku, of course."

2.1 - "Who Let the Dogs Out?"

Tuesday, September 4th, 2057, Mid-morning (Shadowrun calendar). Sanctum, Proximate to the Sigil entrance.

"That will be the last one for a while, honoured landowner," Sir Cleve said. The friendly bodak hoisted the crate of books onto one of his shoulders. There wasn't another one on the ground to replace it. "You have gone through the majority of the Parted Veil's inventory. Kesto Brighteyes thanks you for the enchanted catalogue - it has been very useful. Is there anything else I can do for you? It will be a week or two for there to be enough inventory to fill another crate, even if small." His black, rubber-like form seemed rather tranquil in spite of his undead nature. Sir Cleve avoided looking directly at me, as that may constitute a threatening gesture - the deadly gaze of the bodak.

"Maybe, Sir Cleve," I replied, and walked up to where he was by the street side exit-hallway. It was quieter there than the store's main interior. "How long have you been in... Your current form? Do you know?"

"That will require a moment of contemplation. One moment please." He gently shifted the crate from his shoulder back to the store floor as he thought. "I do not know the exact duration, but I expect it is somewhere in the excess of one hundred and fifty years. A long time, indeed. Why do you ask, honoured landowner?" He focused past my head to a space devoid of any other customers.

"I was wondering why you have not saved up for some wishes and true resurrection spells to restore you to your original self, Sir Cleve. Surely, in that time...?" I left the question open, in silence, and waited for him to fill it.

"In truth, I do not know." His blackened shoulders shrugged. "A part of me was waiting for some signal of my deity's favour to shine upon me, in order to be a signal for my restoration. To simply pursue my own return to the race of man over all else would lend itself to a mercenary mindset or that of a zealot, rather than that of faith and devotion. My path, as of now, is of service, contemplation and learning. Would you be offering to facilitate my return to my original form, honoured landowner?"

"I can do such indeed, Sir Cleve," I replied with a smile. "I'm financially stable enough that such grand gestures are more gestures than grand. The only thing I would implore - not demand, implore - would be your occasional services as a priest, confessor, advisor and man of the highest levels of integrity. Would you consider such over the coming visits?"

"I shall." He remained silent, as if in thought. "Thank you." In absence of any further comments from my self, he picked up the book crate again and exited. The last sight of him was of a deep nod sent my way.

I turned back into the store interior and mentally cringed at the busyness. Things have been more productive than I expected, even with high prices being thrown around. I caught Suplindh's eyes and waved, who returned such with a stony, shallow nod, and ducked into the nearest empty room. A thought later, I teleported into the Greenery.

Greyface greeted me, though he was neither that colour or name any longer. 'Ray' or 'Raymond' was a suitable adaption, especially how protecting the details of his original name protected him from a number of curses, magics and divine maladies.

"Hey Rainbow," he greeted me with a wave, from his woven bench formed of branches and leaves. He looked a lot better with his youthened form restored - a lightly bronzed man, with black hair and grey coloured eyes. He retained his dense, muscular build, and his face was long and square jawed. His original tattoos were gone, replaced by nearly endless lines of overlapping, black writing, that covered nearly the entirety of his body except for his head and face. "How's Sigil treating your storefront?"

"Can't complain, Ray," I replied. I made to sit beside him, and the living bench lengthened to accommodate me. He put away his book into his hammer-space with a gesture. "Have you decided your plans from here on in? Or did you want some more vacation time?" I tapped his mithril-scale armour covered shoulder with my fist with the question.

"I was more interested in when you'd finally bug me in regards to my final choices. It has been well over a week, and... Nothing." He raised an eyebrow, his grey eyes contrasting vastly to his old, wizened orbs.

"Of course I'm interested," I said, and settled down more comfortably beside him. Leaves and vines swarmed around behind me to make a more contoured resting place. "I've just been privy to so much secrets and intelligence in my recent life that I've well learned patience and disinclined myself to pry. You've already done me the biggest honour by dying and being resurrected once more in my Domain, with all that that signifies. If you want to share, I'm open to it."

He copied my gesture, and leaned back into a newly formed, plant-based lazy chair. "True, and fair enough," he said, and made some contemplative noises. "It was a mess that you left us in. Two full groups of my companions... An alternate version of myself... And the brooding, hateful presence of my embodied, incarnated soul. It took at least a half day for some form of order to kick in, with your truth and sanctuary spell effects proving their worth right from the beginning." He let out a prolonged, sad sigh. "My eventual decision was a combination of all the other's feedback, as well as the hateful glares of the Transcendent One." He looked at me as if I was some repellent thing for some moments before continuing. "I can't believe you recommended to my alter ego that one viable option would be to have my soul as a 'big brother' figure - altered into some friendly, benevolent guardian. What were you thinking?"

"Oh," I replied with a smile, "just the perks that come with sharing your mind with someone you value greatly." Nessi sent me the mental equivalent of a hug and smile, which I returned.

He grunted, and did not sound fully convinced. "Yeah... So the biggest decision was to not do a full and complete restoration and unification. It would be too much of a drastic change, and there is also the whole 'growth potential' aspect you mentioned."

"Excellent," I said, and a series of thoughts ran through my head. A large amount of options have now been freed up. "Did you go with the 'sectioning' idea?"

"Something like that, yeah," he replied, and leaned back further. His short, black hair barely moved with the action. "Basically, I put into place a sort of soul and memory partitioning system that would allow me to submerge or recover aspects of myself as needed. The biggest benefit with that system would be that I can continue to learn new things, at the rate of someone who has no substantial prior knowledge interfering in the process. Things have greatly changed since the old, traditional days of wizards, fighters and thieves."

"You can say that," I said, and topped off my words with laughter. He pushed me in response. "What else then? The tattoos? Your form?"

"My original tattoos came off," he replied. "This new set is... The layered, written form of all the sins and misdeeds of my various incarnations. As I do good and right wrongs, they should visibly disappear."

I gave them another look-over. I wasn't able to perceive any individual words among the supposed writing, as they all blended into a continuous, solid black mass. "That might take a while," I said, and returned my gaze to the Greenery around us.

"Very true," he said, and stayed silent. "Would I be right in guessing that you have a suitably long list of things on your 'to do' lists? Some of them even moderately noble in purpose?"

I laughed, and replied, "Yeah, tons. I've got a backlog of activities that will take years or decades to follow up on. You interested in any of them?

"Sure," he said. "The new and improved Mebbeth is enjoying time with her daughter, who is in turn enjoying the non-night hag version of her mother. I've also found out that Sigil is safe enough for me to walk around in, as long as I don't enable a certain high degree of my total powers. And what about that 'shadowrun' world you found? Anything I could do there?"

"Not so much," I replied. "It is in a state of total disarray, but I am having to vastly downplay my own power and that of my own allies. It might be convenient for you to pick up a new set of technologies and skill sets that are far removed from the magics of here, but I really doubt you'd pick up anything new."

Ray made some contemplative noises. "Right, then. Sigil? The planes?"

"Yeah," I said. "Plenty to do, even here. The big question is, though - how are you for joining one of the factions here? Even if just for the sake of appearances?"

"I'm already technically part of the Sensates," he replied, "So... You could say I'm good for it. I can confirm that with some of the higher members. Any particular reasons?"

I waved the question away. "It just has to do with some future predictions and opportunities. Plenty to do without them, regardless." I paused, and stared at a particularly colourful flower. "I passed Vhailor on to St. Cuthbert - the deity, not the priesthood. What do you think?"

"If anybody can impose common sense into his extremist views, the god of such would do so. I'm fine with it."

"Thanks," I replied. "I wanted to catch up on some Domain magic. Want to watch?"

"Sure," he said with enthusiasm, and adjusted his position to look at me. "What were you thinking?"

Rather than answer, I pulled the black barbed seed he had given me a while ago out of my own hammer-space unto the palm of my hand. I patted the nearby vines a few times and said, "Hey there, Lady of the Greenery. I've got something for you - do you want to check and see if you want it?"

A rustling sound raced across all the plants and trees around us. Soon after, a pair of spot-light like eye beams focused on my hand from far above. It only lasted a few seconds before the whole process reversed. I waited while she made her decision.

A spot on the moss covered ground beside me pulled back, exposing a hole leading down to the bare earth below. If that wasn't enough of an invitation, a spiral slide of a branch curled up from the deeps of the hole. It was a visible yes. I placed the seed on the slide and watched it roll down until it was out of sight.

Seconds later, a green-black ripple pulsed through the whole of the Greenery. No other change was evident. Just a drop in the ocean, then. I patted the vines once more, and they wound around me a few times before retracting.

"For my next trick," I said, and then flicked my wrist. One of the bone shards Raymond had given me earlier was brought onto my hand. "I'll show you how I create a Guardian. Objections?"

He shook his head.

"Alright," I continued, "we're going to need to jump around to a few different places." He nodded, and I snapped my fingers. We teleported out.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Later that day.

The giant, bull headed demon had transformed into a giant, dog-headed creature instead. Thankfully, he had conscious control of his tail and we weren't subject to the whipping around of an appendage larger than a full-length bus. He was coloured a dull, reddish brown, and his fur was as soft as it was strong.

"Hi there! You look nice! Do you want to be my friend?" Boris said, as he shook with excitement. With an attitude like his, Boris was a perfect edit from 'Ul-goris.' After all, there was no way I'd name a Guardian Fido, as tempted as I may be.

We were glad he stopped jumping up and down, as that was rather too exciting.

"Is this normal?" Ray whispered to me, as he eyed the overly excited giant, dog-headed creature.

"You're got a lot of darkness in you! That makes me sad. Very sad. We can still be friends! Do you want to play with me?" The comments were directed to Ray, as Boris snuffled him with a large, large nose.

"I don't know," I whispered back. "This whole 'Guardian' thing has never been predictable, and this... Is... Wow. Just wow."

"Hello again mister boss man! Are we going to play now? Please please? Play time?" He was shaking even more with excitement, going back and forth.

"Boris?" I addressed the big, canine creature. I was so incredibly glad that he was not drooling.

"Yes!" He sat up at attention. "Ready and waiting! Play time?"

"Ah... How about I show you some friends?" I asked him.

"YAY!" He replied. "Let's go! I'm excited! New friends are great!"

I snapped my fingers and teleported him next to Levi and Khonsu. Hopefully they won't be too upset with me - their mellow brotherhood is rather quiet. I'll switch out Boris to Emoth, after a while.

"Wow," I said again. "That... That was something else. Yeah. Wow. I wonder how Lionheart will take to having a dog around the place? This could be... Interesting. Very interesting."

I'm so incredibly glad I did not get a warning from Ziz or Nessi about Boris, I thought to myself. I hope that everyone likes the oversized doggie.

We settled down among the only mildly disturbed space of the Greenery, and got to talking about Sigil and other planar adventures.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Wednesday, September 5th, Late morning. Sanctum, Proximate to the Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

Taylor granted me the opportunity to observe as she greeted Anne Penchyk for the first time.

The successful orc businesswoman was accompanied by three other attractive humans, who I imagined were all mantids. That was confirmed when they all briefly looked in my direction and winked. Neither Taylor nor Anne seemed at ease with the protocols surrounding introductions in this unique scenario, as evidenced by their multiple half-started attempts. Taylor broke the stalemate.

"Greetings, Anne," she said, her voice unaltered behind an insect themed full helm. A familiar form of address started before the marketing expert even knew the name of the person she was facing. "I'm glad you came as requested, instead of requiring me to resort to other measures."

"Good morning -", the ork began, before she was cut off by Taylor.

"The mantids call me 'Queen' because I am that to them," she said. "You are not one of them. If you want to be that closely associated with them, do the same. Otherwise - I go by Taylor. Hello." She gave a half-hearted wave and inclined her head.

"Hello as well, then, Taylor," Anne said. She was not an unattractive orc, as far as that race went. Middle aged, solidly built, and with a pair of tusks and horns that were symmetrical and complemented her strong image. Her hair was done up into a suitably restrained bun, with an errant wisp or two being either an accident or a calculated attempt at being fashionable.

Taylor and myself had opted for a traditional, but Spartan-seeming throne room. She believed that the full-on presence of the East Lab 'mega hive' would be rather too intimidating, and not at all the image she was trying to create. There were no other pieces of furniture besides the large seat that Taylor sat on. I was merely leaning against one of the adjacent walls. The decor was reminiscent of the multi-hued shades of colourful insect shells, and a heavy curtain extended around behind Taylor. Indirect lighting well illuminated the chamber.

"I came here under the urging of the past members of the Empowerment Coalition," Anne said, "but I was not sure of what to expect." She remained standing, though went into some sort of 'at ease' position. Considering that she didn't have any prior military experience, she must be emulating the presence of officers she had seen in the past, such as the General Yeats that she personally killed. He was possessed by an wasp insect spirit at the time, so we didn't consider it a blow against her.

"Fair enough," Taylor replied. "To make a long story short, I am the final solution in regards to insect spirits, and aim to be the unquestioned ruler for all mantid-kind on this planet. Those insects would include the Hidden Hive, the Universal Brotherhood remainders, and so on - worldwide. Does your Empowerment Coalition have any other purposes?"

"Yes, of course we do," Anne started. She then went into a spiel about feminism, female empowerment, equal rights in the workplace, support of victimized women and more.

Taylor kept silent for the whole duration of what was likely a well rehearsed rehashing. Once there was silence, she nodded and said, "I can fully support those aims - once all the members make a stop-over here by month-end, especially all the mantids."

The orc businesswoman went through some visible internal emotional struggles, and finally spoke up. "There might be some difficulties with that. They are placed worldwide, and such a stream of people coming to Seattle would be very noticeable. It could expose them and you as... As all involved together. Yes."

"I can go to them," Taylor replied, "and the Umbrella corp has made available a certain degree of assets to me. Those assets and assistance would increase if needed - for an appropriate, allied cause. I believe that a metahuman-friendly expert in advertising and marketing would be well supported, here in Seattle. So much so that all employees relocation, building costs and inventory would be covered."

My enthroned Queen of Queens likely wore a large grin behind her insectoid helmet. I was in turn admiring her skillful ultimatum.

"You're making this so that I'd be rather stupid to reject your offer," the dual head of the Empowerment Coalition and of her own marketing company said.

"Aren't we both glad that you are so very smart, then?" Taylor asked in a playful tone. It hid the undercurrent of seriousness which they were interacting with.

Anne kept silent, though she did put on a wry smile.

"Anything else?" Taylor asked her.

"No," she replied. Anne then gestured to the three women who had came with her. None of them moved.

"They aren't needed," Taylor said. The throned woman made a gesture herself, and the three mantids by Anne came to her instead. Another three different ones came out from behind the curtain by Taylor. They went to stand by the orc businesswoman. "These three have fed on the whole of the CCZ. They will be more effective out in the field. The trio you brought need to be initiated and upgraded. Once that is done, the core of the Desolation Angels will be complete - all the other mantids will only get the basic initiation, by itself, instead."

The newly surrounded orc nodded in resigned acknowledgement.

"Note that they are utterly unable to make any more of themselves," Taylor continued. "That is the price for myself tolerating their existence. Apart from that, their appetites have been... Subtly adjusted." I imagined a grimace and other annoyed expressions sent my way from behind her mask.

"Adjusted...?" Anne asked, with a puzzled and cautious face on.

Taylor waved a hand lightly and said, "Get a separate room to sleep in or you will have first-hand experience of it."

Anne coughed in embarrassed understanding. "Right, of course," she said, and continued, "When would UIG be able to assist with the Empowerment Coalition?"

"They already are," she answered, in a light hearted tone of voice. "See what happens on your return sub-orbital flight. Any other questions, Anne?"

"How have they been, here, with you?" Anne asked, curious, after she examined the state of the three mantid women around her.

Taylor shrugged, and disinterestedly said, "Ask the three when you are with them. I'm not censoring those details, at least."

"That's it then, thank you - Taylor."

"Anne." Taylor nodded in recognition, but did not otherwise issue a formal goodbye.

The businesswoman left, with the three members of the Desolation Angels following her. This newly acquired trio would need to go through the death, resurrection and power modification process by myself, as well as the 'alien mind elimination' stages by Taylor.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thursday, September 6th, Early afternoon. Draco Foundation headquarters in Washington FDC, UCAS. Director Silla Trebheart's POV.

The sound of the conference door closing signaled the end of UCAS government interference - at least for now. I had negotiated the complete removal of all taxes due from the Umbrella Import Group's various will bequeathments via alternative substitutions. Neither myself, Mike or anybody else cared that those alternatives were valued at a higher level of cost than their nuyen amount. Service, maintenance and repair contracts, asset replacement and upgrading, on and off the books, were all a far better alternative for us anyways. It started to enmesh us into the very fabric of the UCAS system. I doubt that those orichalcum ingots slipped into the officials' hands hurt, either. At least they didn't pressure me about Taylor or any of the will items.

I flashed Nadja a brief smile once we were alone again. She didn't return it, but instead kept a rather resigned expression on her face. I sighed at the sight.

"You didn't like the umbrella, Ms. Daviar?" I asked her, with a perfectly neutral expression on my own face.

"The umbrella was perfectly fine, Ms. Trebheart," Nadja said. "It was the notes, implications, and the scurrying around that they caused that annoyed me."

"Understandable," I said, with genuine sympathy. "You might like to hear this, then." I pulled out a simple, flap based envelope from within my work jacket, audibly broke the seal and began to read out loud. "Dear Nadja Daviar, I, Rainbow Umbrella, the President, CEO, and sole shareholder of the Umbrella Import Group, am writing this letter for the sole and express purpose to apologize to you for the upsets in all forms my directed actions have caused you, your organization, and all involved in the smooth running of said organization. Causing such upsets and antagonism was never my purpose or intention. I was instead seeking to demonstrate the skills, powers, and abilities of my own organization and to do such in a way that did not involve physical harm or any other form of gross misconduct. In my haste to impress you and your organization, I may have committed the error of alienating you and yours. For this I apologize and authorize director Silla Trebheart to make amends specific to those errors, separate from our other intentions."

I took a reading break to have a sip of water. A glance at Nadja showed a slightly thawed expression, but nowhere near genuine happiness. It wasn't expected.

"As the director should have demonstrated by now, we are in possession of a rather large and unique collection of assets, talents and abilities. It is my intention, and that of my organization, to have either an informal or fully recognized alliance between ourselves and the Draco Foundation to whatever degree you find personally acceptable. Along those lines, we are fully willing to take up a large degree of tax burdens the Foundation would shoulder, and buffer said amounts towards the UCAS government in your place. I am also personally willing to repeat this apology, in person, at a location of your choice. The only caveat would be that I'd be remaining in my vehicle." I took another sip of water and continued. "To further demonstrate our willingness to work with the Foundation, we can direct you to the location and person of Art Dankwalther, whom we have been observing from a safe, hands-off distance. We are also willing to soak up the massive tax costs associated with the bequeathment that is to be directed his way. Kind regards, Rainbow Umbrella."

I smoothed out the letter and passed it over to Nadja. She manipulated it only with her pen, not trusting the paper.

"It will dissolve shortly," I said. "The countdown was five minutes from when I broke the seal. It is also unrecordable, though I can repeat it at any time, if you wish."

She shushed me, and went back to reading it. From all appearances, it looked like she was attempting to forcefully memorize the document. Her photographic memory was an ability on our records, and we had no objections to that. Nadja pushed it away with her pen after the edges started to crinkle. Seconds later it turned to dust, and that dust dissolved further into nothingness.

I kept silent, and merely observed the newly richest and most influential elven woman on the face of the planet. Her green eyes, pale skin and dark hair were nice enough, but stood nowhere near that of Jessica's. I kept those thoughts to myself. Along with the various following ones.

Nadja's nail tapping on the surface of the conference room table interrupted my pleasant fantasies.

"Mr. Umbrella seems to have little regard for the finances he throws around," she said.

"I would not say that, Ms. Daviar," I replied. "It is more that he values certain things much more substantially than those finances, and is fully willing to commit the expenditures necessary to clearly show such valuing to others and his own employees."

This time, Nadja did smile, however briefly. "Ms. Trebheart," she began, "I suddenly find myself more interested in what the UIG can offer. Can you go over them - in detail?"

"I'd be happy to," I replied with a smile of my own. A leather folio was pulled out of my messenger bag and opened in front of me.

I wonder if Mike will let me use the luxury tank with Jessica if I pull this off, I thought. The happy musings it generated kept me focused as I started to talk.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Friday, September 7th, Mid day. Sanctum, Luxury tank proximate to the Seattle Metroplex, UCAS. Mike's POV.

My first sight of the Lone Star captain was of an iron-jawed, blue-eyed rock of a man. He reminded me of Cayman, somewhat, except shorter. Though I doubt either would appreciate the reference. There was a shade of gray by the temples of his dark hair, but it only enhanced his image. His uniform was spotless, creased and in perfect condition.

I waved him in at the pseudo doorway to the back section of the luxury tank-like vehicle. He settled in the seats across from me, and our 'vehicle' smoothly started to move.

"Captain Grissim," I began, once he had stopped moving, "thank you for stopping by."

"Least I could do," he replied, then continued, "Especially when you mentioned the team that dropped off Blackwing by my station. Now then, what's all this about?"

"That's a complicated question to answer," I said, and stalled briefly. "To check that I have my understanding of yourself down right, would you agree that you have a spotless record, have refused promotion above Captaincy multiple times, are very popular with many of the city's street cops, and have a preference over 'justice' as compared to 'law'?"

"Sure," he said, with a snort. "One can be bought, the other can't. Why are you mentioning that, mister...?"

"Umbrella," I replied, "Rainbow Umbrella, of the Umbrella Import Group."

"You mean...?" He left the question open, and stared at me, somewhat incredulous.

"Yes, captain."

"Huh," he said, and sat there still for a while. I was unsure how much was an act versus genuine surprise on his part. "Ain't that a step up in the world. So what can this captain do for you, Mr. Umbrella?"

"I have some ideas I'd like your feedback with, but for now - just your honesty," I replied, then smiled. "Even if it means to tell me to bugger off, or whatever."

He gave a surprised snort of laughter at my comment. "I can do that, sure. Keeping in mind how recording devices shape the world, of course."

We both exchanged a smile and nod of understanding.

"Thank you," I said, and continued, "These may be some rather loaded questions, so please answer them any way you want."

He cautiously nodded.

"What do you imagine would happen if every member of every single overtly criminal organization was jailed - or 'disappeared' - from the levels of street gangs to the international rings?"

"I'll skip the obvious answer of there being rejoicing in the street, because it would be likely that those very party-goers would start to use the situation for some creative marketing," he said with sigh. "Then there is the realistic issues of there not being enough jails to put them in, wardens to monitor them, and ways to even keep them in those jails... Truthfully, it would only be a blip on the news trideos. The bigger in scope, the longer the trid series would run. If it lasted long enough, they could start a new series called 'formation of the next criminal generation.'"

"If it means anything, captain," I said, "I agree with all those points. None of them are anything beyond common sense." He made some noncommittal sounds, and I continued. "What would you imagine being some methods that actually work, then?"

"That would require some heavy mental lifting, Mr. Umbrella." I waited, only with a slight smile. He fed the silence with his own words. "Multiple factors would need to come into play. There would have to be enough of a social foundation for criminals to not emerge of themselves or be profitable, a way to keep other law-breakers out when our own numbers are dropping, and a legal system that allows that to function. Then there are the corps - seems like there will always be the corps." A suppressed tone of anger and resignation followed his last words.

I take it that he was not a fan of the world's big industries.

"For the foreseeable future?" I answered him. "Most likely. Always? Not so much." I interrupted myself and took out a glass of apple juice from the side-bar. "Filtered water? Natural fruit juice?" I sipped it while I waited, and put the glass on an embedded cup holder.

"Interesting offering there, Mr. Umbrella," the captain said with a joking tone.

"I wouldn't proffer booze unless I was also drinking it," I replied. "And since this is apple juice, well..." I gave him a smile and drank a bit more.

He laughed at the byplay and asked, "Water, please."

I pulled a sealed bottle out of the same side-bar and passed it to him. He cracked the lid open and took a brief swig.

"I'd label what you described as an admirable end goal," I addressed him. "It is not in the realm of unrealistic fantasy, but there are quite a few barriers to it being implemented right now." I raised an eyebrow his way and waited. He eventually nodded in agreement. I continued with, "I'd say, that for the foreseeable future, some sort of ongoing illegal or otherwise criminal-based organizations are likely. So there would need to be both some sort of working, viable process for now, as well as a transition to the state you described. Does that sound realistic?"

"Yeah," the captain replied. "That's a simple enough summation."

"Let me throw out some history for some context - are you familiar with ancient American history? Like the prohibition of the nineteen twenties?"

"Sure," he said. "Illegal booze, flappers, Al Capone, mobsters... Well. All around that time, at least."

"Those are the only highlights I wanted to hit," and passed on correcting him on exact details. "Essentially, through making one single product - alcohol - illegal and then legal again, they created and then destroyed multiple criminal organizations. Clear enough?"

"Yeah," he replied again. "Would I be right in guessing that you have some intentions along those lines, Mr. Umbrella?"

I waved in the air vaguely. "I could only talk in hypotheticals, you understand." I smiled at the comment, and he gave me a laughing nod. I calmly continued with, "Assuming that your own idea of a future is a distant hypothetical, mine would be a closer ranged one. It would have just a few, simple components."

He eventually nodded and made some encouraging sounds for me to continue.

"The simplest thought exercise," I began, "Would come from a combination of a single, unified, and self-governing criminal organization; an integrous police and peace-keeping organization; a 'lowered bar' so that the criminals have something to profit from; the absolute enforcement of certain laws, such as those targeting civilians and of violent acts; and a social system and government that supports all that."

"And the corps?" He asked me.

"They would - hypothetically - not be an issue," I replied.

"Then I find your thought exercise interesting, Mr. Umbrella."

I inclined my head in his direction. "Thank you, captain," I said, and ended my words with another juice sip. "Here is a thought exercise for you - would Lone Star, yourself, or the traditional, original ideas of the police force be workable in such a situation? Why or why not? What would?"

"That would be a multi-part thought exercise there, Mr. Umbrella." He paused. "I'll be the first to admit that such an unique idea personally appeals to my daydreams. As far as Lone Star goes - bottom line, it's a corp. To change the policies in one location, you'd need to either keep the same people in one spot - which is next to impossible over time - or change the entire structure - which is... Realistically unfeasible, at least for now. On top of that, some form of policing organization is needed. Any time there are rules or laws, people would break them for any reason, or none at all."

"True enough," I replied. "What, in your hypothetical estimation, would be the components of a police organization that could fit into my imagined scenario?"

We engaged in a period of time where our only activity was the odd bit of sipping of our respective drinks. He stared rather heavily at me, which I returned distractedly when I could be bothered to do so.

"I think this is going somewhere," he eventually said, "and I don't know if I like it or not."

"That would entirely depend on you, Captain Grissim," I replied. "The situation I described is not even close to existing, and a policing organization that could fit with it is also not existing. For a more serious question, I'll ask this: given the entirety of the thought exercises I described, would you say that it is something you'd imagine getting behind... Or not?"

He gave his answer. I accepted it, and he left. My 'vehicle' drove on to the next stop.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tuesday, September 11th. Astral space inside Sanctum/Mike. Disposable timeline.

The copied Cloak of Shadows worked as well as the original. Jessie and Silla had tested it to good effect, while my own immunities rendered it merely a comfortable piece of cloth.

"Go away, please," Aban said, her draconic form curled on top of the small treasure mound. "I don't want you here."

We were both in a sort of dream-like astral room construct that was contained within my avatar's body.

I've tried many different ways to approach her: combative, placating, ritualistic, literal honesty, different physical forms and more. All done on disposable timelines, and all started, progressed, and ended the same way. She didn't want to see me, wanted me to leave, and was worse off afterwards. When the Cloak was removed, so too was her immense rage restored.

The timeline was then closed.

Aban - Mistweaver - had not done any changes to this space. Likely the result of how I envisioned it - constantly reverting to a pristine state. I turned off that feature some time into her 'rooming' in my self, but that damage was done. She no longer even tried to change things to her own liking, or even rage against the physical confines of her 'prison.'

I shuffled my claws in the sand. I was using a draconian form again, but a lot smaller than the first time. Considering the size of this room and her own bulk, it was very small indeed. I was scaled more to a car-sized wyvern than a house-sized - or larger! - dragon.

I was silent this time, and as immobile as I could reasonably be. The hope was it could be enough to starve her of reactive material and she'd eventually be curious enough to try talking to me.

This plan was started over two days ago.

The only thing that changed were the individual words she said. The meaning stayed the same. All variations of requests for me to leave, not come back, and leave her alone. Everything polite, calm and controlled, courtesy of the Cloak. Even now, if I focused on her, I could hear comments along the same lines.

I quietly stretched my wings and long neck, and adjusted my position again.

She was impressive for a dragon. I could almost say that she was tailor made for my Domain's colour scheme, as her past inclinations towards scale colour changing and Guardian-ship had converted her into - dare I say it? - a rather mesmerizing, rainbow-like draconian form.

Her Name-giver - human - form was much more mundane, from what I remembered of it. No exotic details apart from her clothes.

I let out a huff and laid my head on my now-crossed forelimbs.

I'll try silence for a few more days, I thought. Then... I'll see what else I can do, until I get help with her.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sunday, September 16th. Sanctum, Proximate to the Sigil entrance.

Suplindh and myself were in one of the far corners of the Sigil-based store. He was perched on his usual heavy wrought metal chair, while I was on a more conventional one beside him. The half-fiendish gargoyle was a master at silence and stillness. He likely had decades of experience in doing such.

"There goes another one," I stage whispered to him, as we watched a thief disappear as he attempted to walk out the exit hallway. The paired Portals acted as a combination scanning and redirection system. In the case of thieves, the first one - with Nessi's attention - picked up the various memories, intentions, and presence of the stolen item or items themselves, while the second simply sent them back to Levi and Khonsu, there to be stored in stasis.

He rumbled a sound of acknowledgement.

"How are things here, Suplindh?" I asked him, and turned my head fractionally his way. "Are you enjoying yourself? Is the store doing alright?"

He turned his grey-green stony countenance slightly my way before replying. "Honoured Rainbow Umbrella, the store is enjoying a moderate measure of success in it's own niche - that of exotic, rare, and highly priced items." The gargoyle returned his focus to room, and stopped at one of our more recent hires, the contract worker and magic user, Sebastion. "However, certain external pressures seem to be placed on our employees."

Hmm. Nessi dearest? Could you pass me the details, please?, I thought into our shared head-space.

Of course, Mike-ster! Widdle Sebastion has the assassin organization Garrote putting the squeeze on him. Somebody has hired them to do some serious damage to the store-owners here, and since they can't get past the security, well... They go after the employees.

Sucky, I mentally replied, and frowned. Recommendations? Draw them in somehow, or...?

That would work. The upper echelons of Garrote are rumoured to be some very powerful individuals.

Hmm. Alright. Thanks, head-mate!

She sent me the mental impressions of a hug, which I returned in kind.

"It's Garrote which is doing the pressure," I told Suplindh, quietly. Yes, only the most powerful, highest ranked and deadliest multi-planar assassination guild known in this entire multi-verse. No sweat.

He flinched at the word, slightly but visibly. He fully turned to look at me before he said, "Would you have a plan for dealing with them then, Rainbow Umbrella?"

I smiled in reply. "Yes, Suplindh, I do. Though I'd prefer to hear about your other worries and stresses here than outside."

He focused his unblinking gaze on me for a while, before he returned it to the store interior. With us in one corner, and the two beholder-kin Observers in opposing corners, we have high visible coverage of everything here.

"The advertising flurry helped, even if it was accompanied by the chaos of all the various thieves and miscreants being released," he rumbled. "I believe that quite a few prominent individuals were using your security as their own informal jail system, and were substantially annoyed when you let them all loose."

We shared a quiet laugh at that. In the past day, a decent number of those very same released thieves were caught again, as they believed that the first time was some quirk of fate or a mere stroke of bad luck.

"For myself, honoured Rainbow Umbrella," he said, and then fell into a state of silence. He continued a short while afterwards with, "I have yet to really see the so-called multi-planar nature of your commercial enterprises. Sigil seems the extent of it."

"True," I replied. "That is very accurate. Have you laid any groundwork for operations in other planar metropolises - senior partner? I can set up a portal system if so."

"Me?" He asked, some form of surprise evident in his tone.

"Of course!" I said. "You need to tell me these kinds of things, otherwise how am I supposed to know? Now... Places? People?"

Suplindh made a rumbling sound that I interpreted as a long sigh. "I will begin to prep my contacts for suitable locations," he began. "The City of Brass in the Plane of Fire is an absolute must, followed by..."

I continued to listen as the grey-green gargoyle recounted the names of the biggest and most exotic locales in this multi-verse.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Friday, September 21st, Very early morning. Private residence of Leslie Chao, Honolulu city, Oahu island, Independent Kingdom of Hawai'i. Kia's POV.

"Ms. Chao," I loudly spoke from the doorway. I flicked the light on as I spoke. "Please wake up, Ms. Chao."

With a shriek, she bundled herself up under her covers by the head board of her bed. "I don't have anything!" She exclaimed. "Everybody who had anything is dead! Please just rob my house and leave me...Me... My very very ugly, old self... Alone!" She started to sob, quietly.

Oh boy. This must be why I prefer the 'knock them out and bring them along' method, I thought. I bet Ma'fan, Winterhawk and Kellan are having more fun cleaning out the dragon lairs of Naheka and the big D.

"It's not like that, Leslie Chao," I spoke, and attempted to reassure the panicked woman. "This is both a friendly and completely optional extraction. I'm here to talk. If you want me to leave after I'm done, I will do so. Wiz?"

I heard some vague noises amidst the crying that could be translated into 'fine,' if I made the effort.

"The situation is this," I began. "Your company, Molokai Microtronics, screwed over another company awhile ago. That resulted in a lot of people dying. This made some people angry, so more people died, and you ended up being the new company president. However, in this unstable environment, a lot of sharks are circling. In less than a week, certain sources have determined that your corp will be rather forcefully acquired by others. We decided to offer yourself, and the many other individuals working at the so-called 'secret labs' of yours, an option: do you want to leave while you can or... Not? The people left in Hong Kong weren't left that option."

I relaxed against the wall beside the light switch. Her room had the odd floral print in it, but was otherwise bare. The furniture had a nice, darkened wood sheen. I wasn't able to assess whether it was real from this position. Ma'fan probably could, though. Or maybe not? It's not like they were classical art pieces, after all.

"What was that, Ms. Chao?" I asked her.

"Can you tell me something about the corp I'd be going to?" She said, still under the covers. Her crying had subsided, but her voice was still shaky.

"I doubt you'd believe anything I say." I shrugged, then realized she wouldn't be able to see me anyways. "I can tell you that their security is much better, and you'd never have your very own boss kill you to make some nuyen under the table."

"What?!" She exclaimed.

"You didn't believe the records that were given you, Ms. Chao?" I asked her, and shifted against the wall. "The execs of 2M decided that their faithfully paying employing corporation was not a good choice for the very work they were doing for them. So, they contacted a megacorp, sold them all the details, and went laughing to the bank while their very own wage slaves, execs, and members of that employing corp were erased." I snorted. "And please don't tell me you don't believe it. The president's diary is archived as well, if you want to read it some time."

Hearing nothing, I continued, "Keep in mind that the megacorp that wants to forcefully obtain 2M is the same one that gunned down your corp the first time. You've got a few minutes before I head out. We've already managed to hit the bulk of your labs, and the other execs here in Hawai'i, and the majority have chosen to sign on - everyone from the security guards to the managers. We have no objections to more people. You're a bonus, Ms. Chao. We're extending this offer to you as a friendly courtesy - nothing else."

I set an internal timer on display in my cybereyes, and settled against the wall to wait. When four minutes had passed, I straightened myself up off of it.

"That's my time, Ms. Chao," I said as I walked to the outside of her bedroom door. I loudly walked a few more paces, then softly returned to beside her bedroom door. I started to count, and then...

"Wait!" Her voice came from inside the room. It was followed by her scrambling outside, she passed me as she looked around. I coughed from behind her, and she spun to me.

"Leslie," I said, being careful to not pointedly focus my gaze on her expensive fitness toned body that was dressed only in a thin thong, "If anyone ever calls you ugly, old, or middle aged, I'd be happy to turn their head around a few times." I turned slightly to the side. "Your luggage is by the front door, filled with what we believe are your personal mementos and other keepsakes. All the weapons in the house are disarmed, and... I am not going to offer to help dress you, as desperately as I want to."

She snorted, but her tear streaked face lit up with a small smile. She walked back into her room to get dressed, and I stuck my head around to watch... Her... Hips... Move.

Drek, I thought, as I straightened back up against the exterior hallway. Hawai'ian women. I'm sure I can get some vacation time down here if I need to.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Same day, Morning. Sanctum, Luxury tank pulling away from the Draco Foundation headquarters in Washington FDC, UCAS. Mike's POV.

Art Dankwalther looked like an emotional whirlwind had run over his life. In a very certain sense, it had. Just a few short weeks ago, he was living the life of a druggie, with his head slotted into the brain bending effects of Better-Than-Life chips.

After Silla directed the Draco Foundation to his location, he went through a series of identity tests, detoxing treatments, rehab and then observation. Then it was the simple, life altering question: credsticks or electronic funds for your 34.6 billion UCAS dollars? He choose the latter.

Art had sat down during my period of introspection. I acknowledged him with a nod, which he jerkily returned.

The Draco Foundation and the UCAS government had run very far with our generous offer of 'tax substitution enhancements.' The local government was now the proud owner of over fifteen billion UCAS dollars worth of orichalcum. The tidal waves and from this action are already starting to be felt, with a minor depression in world orichalcum values and a number of megacorps making bids for the precious metals. Ideally, they'd be sold in a single batch - and we could steal it back. I grinned at the image.

"Sorry, Art," I said, and finally focused my self on the ex-company man across from me. "I got caught up in my own thoughts. It happens."

Jessica nodded in emphasis, as she hid her smile with a yawn.

"Not a problem, Mr. Umbrella," he said, as he defaulted to the corp-based formality he was raised in.

"Please, just call me Rainbow," I said, and ran a hand over the self-same coloured hair. "We've just tossed around billions of dollars, so I'm comfortable with a degree of informality - if you are as well...?"

"Of course, Mr. Umb - Rainbow. Sir. Yes." He managed to finally stammer out.

We didn't draw attention to his awkwardness. That wasn't the point or reason of him being here, and would, in fact, be totally counter-intuitive to my plans.

"I wanted to thank you for agreeing to talk to me, Art," I began. "I know that I put some billions into supporting you, but it was not a demand or gun to your head. I hope that you understand that?"

He nodded again, though less jerkily than before. I waited in silence, focused on Art, and he eventually spoke again.

"I was very curious, Sir-Rainbow I mean," he slightly stammered. "In my recovery and observation time at the Foundation, your corp was a high end topic. People talked about the secrecy, the unknown wealth, that massive stash of orichalcum and more. I wanted to learn about it, and this seemed like an ideal time. Oh! And to say thank you for the tax payment on my behalf. I couldn't imagine anyone having that much orichalcum, let alone spending it just for me."

"You're welcome," I replied with a smile. "As you may have gathered by that precious metal stash, we have rather unique assets available to us that other corps don't. If I wanted to that badly, I could flood the market with that arcane substance, and drive the price way down. Any idea why I'm not doing that, Art?"

"You don't need to - Rainbow?" He asked me in reply.

"Correct," I said. "I'm trying to limit my interference to the world at large. Along those lines, I hope to steal back most or all of as soon as it is cleared from the UCAS."

"Are you a... Dragon? Rainbow?"

"No," I replied, "I'm not. I'm much stranger than that. That would be quite a story, too. You're here, Art, because I'm interested in you as a top level executive for the UIG. You'd be the sole, second listed member for the whole of the group. I'm aware of your history, and your connections to the Fuchi megacorp. What I'm asking for, right now, is if you are even interested in the idea. If so, we could talk details."

He froze, flabbergasted. "But... What do I have, apart from money? Rainbow? I don't know why you'd offer it to me, especially when you already have the kind of finances you're offering."

"Maybe a white angel recommended me to do so, eh Art?" I smiled at him, and waved away his questions. "More seriously, I see potential in you. The Umbrella Import Group has a mixture of extremely high personal net worth combined with an extremely low employee base. Every single person involved has a standard of living than is higher in quality than top level execs - but not nearly as ostentatious. By the time Silla or myself meets somebody, they have already been throughly vetted."

Art adjusted his two thousand dollar nuyen suit. It was one of the few quick purchases he had ready before he left the Foundation's building.

"If I say yes," he began, cautiously, "what would happen?"

"We talk," I replied, with a smile. "Much like civilized people and their opposites, corporate executives. Are you saying yes, Art?"

He nodded, multiple times, and said so.

"Alight, thank you. That takes a lot off of my mind." I paused to collect my thoughts together. "First of all, I want you to notice the time, date, and environment here." I pointed to a display on the interior of the seating area. "We'll call this a point of origin. If at some point things don't work out between us, your memory will be reset to this time, and we can escort you to wherever you want to go, internationally."

I looked at my empty cup holder for a second. Jess helped me out by getting a glass of apple juice ready, and I thanked her for it.

"Now, you might take this as total bullshit, but one of my personal defining beliefs - at least in interacting with friendlies - is that of win-win. In a sense, the aim is to have all parties involved in a transaction, no matter how big or small, come out ahead in their own beliefs and in actuality. Get me so far?"

He nodded again, and sipped some juice.

"Pardon," I said. "Would you like some filtered water? Natural juice?"

His face froze up in indecision, then he said, "Do you have... Strawberry juice?"

"Of course," I replied. "Just keep in mind that in it's normal form it is more light brownish than red or pink. Alright?"

He made some agreeable sounds and we shuffled around until we were both properly settled. I used the opportunity to introduce him properly to Silla and Jessica, and more handshakes were completed.

"So," I continued, "beyond the concept of win-win, I personally try to keep an even higher philosophy for my employees, partners and so on: that of overwhelming incentives. Essentially, I aim to make things so incredibly good, that they are beyond satisfying. If you have the opportunity, please ask either Jess or Silla here about the topic." I gestured to both of them. "Now, in regards to you, I have that same sort of proposal. I'll show you a rough draft of contract ideas in a while, but the general concept is this."

I sipped some more iced apple juice.

"We will have you for a temporary employee for one month," I began. "During this time, you are free to interact and talk with others of the UIG, and live in a comparable environment to them. You'll have access to a number of positions, and find out which works for you. At the end of that month, we'll present you with a full contract that has details we can go over and change if needed. If you accept that - great. If you don't - your memory will reset to about this time right now, plus or minus a few minutes."

We both drank from our glasses in silence. He spoke first.

"I'm interested, then - Rainbow. Yes."

"All right, great," I replied with a wide smile. "We can work out details like your personal security and such on the way. For now, though, let me tell you about Nessi and someone I know called the Number Man. I'm sure that you can do a lot with them."

2.2 - "Tastes Just Like Chicken"

Friday, October 5th, 2057 (Shadowrun calendar)

"This is DJ Darco Smooth! Are you ready for me? Because... If you're not... You could stop listening. Just saying. For everyone else - Hello! Greetings and salutations, all you fine, fantastic and wonderful folk of all ages, races, creeds, metahuman types, infected and non. Did you miss me? Could you find me? I guess not."

"We - and by we, I mean me - have a lot of ground to cover. Many different, interesting, and astoundingly boring things have happened lately. Some I'll even talk about. Perhaps even do what passes for truth in this sad, sad planet."

"So. First things first. What is the old news? What did I leave unresolved and unfinished from my past newscast? Hold on, please, while I make filler noises while pretending to reference papers that don't exist... Do do. DO do. DO DO. DO DOOOO! ...DO! ...Aha. Here we go."

"The big reveal! That's right! The Queen of Queens - the Queen Mother Empress of Insects herself - hosted a lovely act of bug-guts filled genocide and Broadway-class entertainment by the Chicago Containment Zone. Hopefully you were able to see it, and did not receive a rifle butt to the face from the ignoble, censoring bastards from Ares, the Knight Errant forces. At least they had enough brain cells to rub together to apologize for calling her a terrorist. If not, well... I won't go there. It's too easy."

"It looks like there wasn't the expected rushing in of citizens and corps after the bugs were cleared from the Containment Zone. Too bad. At least the Knight Errant forces pulled back, and there were no stupid people trying to shoot the escaping zoners as they fled. Now if any of you zoners hear this, why don't you give me a call about some big bugs? Surely at least YOU guys have got a proper hate boner for the insect freaks? Hmm?"

"There was also the connection between The Queen of Queens and the Umbrella Import Group. Some of you in the shadows probably knew that, as I heard there was a rather a lot of file deleting going on. The UIG link certainly sounds a lot more above board than some corps and their hidden labs, all working on brainwashing insect shamans and trying to put insect spirits into animals and that kind of fucked up, nasty shit. It's like everybody keeps on wanting to press the button that says 'if you press me, you will die!' Worse yet, they keep on asking WHAT WILL HAPPEN, ahem, IF I PRESS THIS? Durr."

"Something to flush out my mind... Yes! I want to personally thank the individual that recounted to me, over the phone, in sound-effect added explicit detail, the 'private party' between the ex-street samurai male model and the two female dwarven simsense hard porn actors. I won't give you any details, except... Four times. You're on my golden list. Thanks, really."

"Alright... So where are all the calls for the Queen of Queens' work? That is one of the things that gets passed my way. I know you have governments infected with insect spirits, YOU know you have governments infected with insect spirits, so... What are you waiting for, really? A publicly sponsored trideo show that tells you that having your soul consumed by an insect spirit is good for your health or something? Megacorp X, brought to you by your insect overlords? Sheesh. Maybe I was being too generous about those brain cell comments. I should refer to them in the singular. As in, 'your brain cell.' Bouncing around in your soy filled skulls."

"The Seattle Metroplex continues to be insect spirit free - awesome! - which makes everyone else's crime filled lives there so much easier to handle on a day to day basis. They have one less fear - insect spirits - which could perhaps be replaced with one BIG fear - the Queen of Queens. Not to worry, folks. As long as you don't be stupid... Oh. Oh shit. Well. Yeah. You're right. You're doomed. There is so much stupid floating around that it drips out of people on a constant basis. Try not to be splashed by it. That's all I'll say."

"Moving on to the next item in my carefully scribbled pile of gibberish... We have Kenneth Brackhaven, the little faker Kenny boy, and Karl Brackhaven, racist bastard and head of the Seattle Humanis Policlub chapter. I'm really disappointed in you people. Seriously. I have to ask - why aren't these two bastards dead yet? C'mon. Do I need to give live updates on their security status on something? Hold on... Let me check the cameras."

"Alright. Kenny buddy is in the middle of a meeting at Brackhaven Investments. Middle of the line security. Two guards outside the door and a fully staffed building. Odds don't look so good, runners. Now then, Karl, the throwback to redneck garbage - and look at me, I'm using ancient curse words! Wooo! - is currently driving south east on the one-six-four in the Auburn district of the Seattle Metroplex. He is alone and driving his personal Eurocar Westwind 2000, Turbo model, painted a generic black - oh, so classy, Karl, really - with licence plate XGHUI72. Let's see... No bodies in the vehicle. Too bad. But he DOES have some illegal weapon mods in the car, if anybody cares. He is armed with a nice load-out of personal weapons as well. You know the drill. Prime opportunity if anybody wants to ice the bastard. You have my blessing."

"Hopefully with that little infusion of flames I sent into the ether, there will be a lot more panicked chaos about, and in regards to, my very fine self."

"I'll send out a big round of applause and thank you for the individuals that burnt down one of the Humanis Policlub buildings in Seattle. For only merely bruising the members inside, and not doing such a dick move as burning them alive or something, you are also on my golden list. Yes indeed. I'll see what interesting intelligence I can pass your way comes up. Cheers!"

"Speaking of the Umbrella Import Group - and isn't it interesting to actually be able to do so, without static or auto-deleting? I guess their big reveal was at the Draco Foundation. Still, I'm certain that they will smack down any misinformation, so if you want to vomit crap their way - make sure the vomit's colour matches what they sent out. Accuracy is the keyword here."

"When you consider that the items on the will are all public releases, things get a lot easier. Let's do a run-down on them for the clueless masses that don't want to - or are perhaps unable to - read print. What an ancient concept, I know."

"Apart from their turning in an item from the big D's third, hidden lair on the very day the will was first read - and doesn't that blow your mind like a simsense porn star, folks? - the next bit was how they id-ed some Humanis schmucks and their victim from a photo. They were found, brought to legal justice at a Lone Star station, and terminal justice via concrete and bullets. A round of applause for their efforts. For that, that received a swanky little mansion in Paris, France. The home of excessive taxes, welfare, and snobbish social customs. I also hear that the back room clubs there have some really kinky perverted shit, if you know what I mean. ...I won't speculate what the new owners will be or won't be doing in that city."

"Then there was a small cash infusion for rescuing some people from the CCZ. UIG had a two-fer out of the experience, courtesy of the Queen of Queens, who also tacked on another side rescue job. The nuyen and thanks were passed their way."

"Speaking of insects, there was the big bucks return of Mary-Beth Tyre. She got to see her parents, UIG got to see one million nuyen, and the capturing bastards likely got to see the insides of their eyeballs exploding. Ain't that a sweet, adorable little fluffy picture of goodness and cheer?"

"Moving on, they made a snazzy item called a 'Rod of Wonder.' Apparently very expensive, it went through a number of magic effects and was used by mundanes. It burnt out at the end, but the research results should have all been posted by now. We'll be seeing some commercial items based out of that in a decade or two. I guess UIG isn't in a big rush around them. For their efforts, they received a fist-sized piece of orichalcum which was less than what was on the wand itself. That sucks. At least they got some publicity out of the whole thing."

"It was followed by a bare-bones disclosure by Lofwyr around room four-twenty-nine of the Saeder-Krupp offices in Berlin. UIG then received the Arrow of Red Dragon slaying. Is there even a red dragon alive right now to test it on? Any volunteers? If you are a red dragon and want to die, please let me know and we can publicize the details. All in the name of research."

"We then have a blurb about Ecuadorean honey ants. I haven't personally eaten any, but... First time for everything, right? We'll see how they taste when - or if - they hit the market. Some million nuyen makes it a worthwhile deal for UIG, I imagine."

"Now we get into the high ticket items! A method for successful communication between metahumanity and dolphins. Very nice. They nabbed forty million nuyen, and, through a likely interesting discussion with the Foundation board, all three of the Cayman Islands. I heard that they all are being developed already! Isn't that great? Some sort of eco-conscious plant-metal growing thing. No idea what, though, as the security there is rather intense. So much so that the Caribbean League has taken to patrolling around it, in order to deter defenceless pirates from getting too close to the islands. Poor pirates! Or maybe not - after all, it was rumoured that pirates picked up some Azzie orichalcum around that region. Something in the excess of ten billion nuyen worth. That would make a lot of magical foci, I kid you not."

"Then there was an awesome little robot. Well, normal sized, whatever that means. The implications surrounding that are of a full fledged artificial intelligence as well. In spite of the ten million nuyen reward, UIG was all like "eh, we'll develop it whenever. No rush. We're cool." So don't expect any robot warriors or autonomous giant death spider robots crawling over the wasted remains of your civilization. Yet. Ahem. Yeah. Not today, at least. Keep things friendly. ...When is that trideo coming out, anyways? That series seems to blur together."

"The last item was a batch deal - the relatively intact bodies of seventeen toxic shamans. They were alive, but that is the best I could say about them. The Dunkelzahn Institute of Magical Research did some sort of deal with UIG and everybody left happy, or so I assume. Except those toxic shamans."

"To focus in on the Seattle Metroplex, and more specifically the Renraku Arcology, I have to ask this: what on earth is going on in there? It blows my mind. Probably not as much as the batch of old grannies that wanted a nice, relaxing simsense tour of the jungles and instead got 'Debbie does Dallas, X Through Triple X, Simsense Edition.' The heart attacks were paired with some pretty awesome granny smiles, or so I heard. At least they all survived. Hurray for happy endings, sloppy finishes and other metaphors I'm too lazy to think of."

"Some of the screw-ups were a lot better, though. Like the one computer store that had all their inventory prices reversed. And yes, I mean fully negative - you want something that costs five hundred nuyen, the store GAVE you five hundred nuyen AND the item. There was a riot around the place and the store was emptied in under a hour. Other things weren't so nice. Shitty shit exploding out of toilets, elevator doors that seemed to want to attack people..."

"On top of that, all those so-called elite security forces, the Red Samurai, can't seem to keep their armour. Somehow, they are continually getting trashed or mailed out as soon as they arrive into the Arcology. They turn around - it's gone. They put it down - it's gone. They only ways the Reds have kept their famous armour is literally by going to Japan, getting a suit fitted and worn, flying back, and NEVER taking it off. That's right, folks - some of those Reds now have been wearing their armours for over a week. They SHOWER and sleep with them on!"

"I've got a good idea where the armours end up, too. Some callers have pointed out locations where it was dumped, and I had some picked up. Yes - that is right! - me, myself and I, DJ Darco Smooth, totally unknown voice on the radio airwaves, am in personal possession of not just one, but one DOZEN suits of the famously coveted Red Samurai armour. I'm going to keep the set that fits best, but the other eleven I'll give out to callers that phone in with their most horrible, disgusting story of the Renraku Arcology's recent screw ups. Bonus points if you can get it published or on the trideo at prime time. You can use them as temporary toilets, mantle covers, or even costumes for the kiddies. Paint them black and become a ninja cyber street samurai or something. Just watch out for the tracking devices. I had them disabled, but you never know, right?"

"Some extra special fuzzy butt news for y'all: the first of the various 'boon' packages should have been sent out by now. They are lots of simple things, like water purifiers, and organic-waste-to-full-nutrient-food converters, but a few special gifts have been included. Keep on asking for the things you want. Maybe we can get some corps involved. I'll have to screen the items for bombs and trackers first, though."

"To reach me, pat your hat with one hand, and rub your belly in circles with the other, while speaking into live static, saying my name, DJ Darco Smooth, three times. It will prevent the aliens from lifting up the top of your skull and the ninja kittens from disemboweling you."

"Next time, I'm slitting my wrists for the blood magic of truth, humour and pain. I'll end this show with a moment of silence for those stained brown Red-ish Samurai.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Same day, 9:37 AM. Final Rest Funeral Services, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS. Kia's POV.

There has never been a time I've enjoyed listening to a woman cry, I thought. Even this restrained form of mostly suppressed sniffles wasn't in the slightest pleasant.

"Thank you for coming," the woman said. She was wearing a very form fitting bodysuit that seemed to literally mold itself around her chest. It must have been a custom job, as I can't imagine an off-the-rack piece of clothing fitting that closely. "I know the surroundings are a little unusual, but I have my reasons for meeting you here. Any inconvenience I've put you to, I'll pay you for."

This job was an intercept among the fixer networks. It was flagged as 'emergency' and sent our way. We received the odd bit of intelligence from Ops N, but it seemed like a standard 'corp being an drek-filled frag-face, get revenge' run. We'd certainly enjoy ourselves in it.

"Some of you may know me as Alpha Blue. Normally I work your side of the trade, but I have some personal biz that I can't handle myself. Off the streets, my name is Erin Scott." A brief pop-up from Ops N confirms that as true, and I pass that info on to Kellan. Alpha Blue continued with, "I tell you this because I need your trust and your help, and I don't have time for the usual games. You're pros - so am I. Here's hoping we can cut the drek and get to work."

Alpha Blue - Erin - took some time to compose herself. Nothing as blatant as blowing her nose into a tissue or sobbing, but she did take some heaving, shuddering breaths. I seriously have no idea how she put that bodysuit on. It must aid in her seduction attempts as well. Lots of chrome studs and chains on it.

"Last night," she continued, "somebody shot my brother Neil in cold blood while he was on his way home from his downtown office. This morning I got a chunk of interesting mail that he sent me just prior to heading home."

Erin pulled out some papers from a tote bag and spread them out over the surface of the nearest rosewood casket. Her Remington Roomsweeper was already there, placed down when we first came in. There were three items. The first was a letter from her brother, Neil; the second was something that looked like most of a chip diagram; and the third was a business card for a place called 'Vanian.'

The letter confirmed the nature of the chip diagram as a blueprint, the designer, Dutch Donovan, and how Neil found out too much for his own health. Specifically, that the chip diagram had some serious cost-cutting defects in it, and his search might flag some lethal responses from the developing corp, Multitech. The details started to pour in from Ops N and I inwardly exulted. We were going to clean house so fragging hard. I passed on the relevant details to Kellan. No need for my slick talking face today - Kellan's sympathy would prove more effective.

"I figure Multitech pulled the trigger," Erin said, after we had all gone over the documents. "Neil said he found something incriminating in that blueprint, and he paid a high price for his insight. The fence who sent him that blueprint got it from somewhere. I want you to find out how Vanian got his mitts on the fragging thing and get me enough evidence to take the Multitech bastards down."

She ran a hand over that same rosewood casket. After some more deep breaths, she slowly continued with, "I have a few friends in Lone Star who can pull strings to slow down the investigation into Neil's death. Hopefully, you can find what you need before the law gets wise. If not, you'll be dodging the badge at every turn. As long as the victim's not one of us shadowfolk, murder is still serious business in this part of town."

It's a surprise to hear that, I thought. I'm so used to murder being the name of the game, that anybody actually caring is... Rather odd.

"I'd bet a thousand nuyen to a CAS dollar that Multitech is already rolling. Taking out Neil looks to me like the first step for the cleanup crew; if they're any good at their job, they'll be searching for every other possible leak so they can plug it. That means Vanian, chummers. If you want to talk to him, you'd better beat feet."

Kellan already sent out the next steps. We were simply going through the motions of being regular shadowrunners right now. Alpha Blue will get her revenge, many times over.

"I chose to meet with you because you jokers have a rep for good work and for slotting it when you have to," Erin continued. "If you decide not to help me, then stay out of my way. One way or another, I will avenge Neil's death. Do we have a deal, or do I need to go elsewhere?"

Kellan already had everyone's firm endorsement of the deal, for all that it was worth.

"Absolutely," our blond leader said, "we're on it like flies on drek." Erin smiled sadly at the imagery. Kellan continued with, "though I'd like to know more details before we head out."

"Of course," Erin replied. "What are you interested in?"

"Everything," Kellan replied. "Though we can start with the most obvious details. What do you know of Dutch Donovan?"

Erin looked at the casket while she gathered her thoughts together. Starting with a deep breath, she said, "Apparently our chummer Dutch has quite a rep in corp circles. He's a chip designer, a real techno-geek; my brother thought a lot of his work." She paused with the mention of her brother. "I remember hearing his name come up from time to time before this business started. He used to ride the cutting edge, but stopped making headlines about four or five years ago. I figured he was dead." She shrugged. "Guess not."

Kellan made some appreciate noises. None of us are aware of what is happening in the hi-tech industries.

"The drek-filled corp? Multitech?" Kellan asked. "What do you know about them?"

Erin's hands instinctively reached for her Roomsweeper on the casket top, but she stopped herself before reaching it. An very noticeable edge of anger stained her voice as she said, "Multitech manufactures short runs of high-tech components for other companies. Their biggest customers include Henderson Multicom, Fuchi, and Magnuson, but they have dozens of other clients that they also work with on a regular basis. I haven't had time to do too much digging, and so far I haven't found anything worth telling; I'll let you know as soon as I do. Multitech's a dirty outfit, and I will bring them down."

Kellan continued in the same line of fake-serious questioning. She clarified details according to the blueprint and her brother, which took Erin off onto a massive flashback tangent. Kellan managed to steer her back onto topic, with the last details concerning Vanian. He was supposed to be a straight shooter, but nothing was certain.

It was followed by some friendly haggling over the price of our services - which we weren't in the slightest concerned about - and the deal was struck. Erin and Kellan exchanged contact info, and our leader was passed an indenticard. The Ms. Johnson supplied us with a number of leads. They included the scene of the crime at Leopold & Loeb, Neil's lab, the home address of Dutch Donovan, the Multitech branch office, and Vanian's place.

"You'd best get moving," Erin said. "I need to lay low. I don't know how comprehensive Multitech's cleaners are, and I'd rather not tempt fate. I'll keep in touch, but otherwise - it's all on your heads. Have a good run, chummers." With that, she made an effort to look all of us in the eyes before she picked up her weapon off the casket top and headed out.

Kellan started to absent mindedly talk about the wood details of the caskets around us. At the same time, our group chat function was keeping active.

[G-Kellan: My immediate preference is to have the Shanghai execs iced. Mutus? Kia? You're the moral committee here., Kellan sent to the group while she casually leaned against the nearest, curtain covered wall.

I exchanged a glance with the blue banged elf. In absence of anything from her, I went first. My cover talk was about the curtain behind her, while at the same time I sent, [G-Kia: I'm all for a hit at their corporate offices. Nothing like an extraction, but just very carefully sloppy and messy. Totally different from our usual work. Could even throw them off a building or something. We don't want to do a chain of runs where the high level corp execs get erased - especially the same way.] I shrugged. [Improving the world, one dead exec at a time.]

Everybody silently and subtly trained their eyes on Mutus. She would be the deciding factor here - the noble assassin as our limiter. A joke of sorts, but still very real to us. Eventually she favoured us with a grim smile.

[G-Mutus: I support absolutely, precision based targeting of the execs, provided all such targeted have have dirty pasts. That would need either Ops N or a magical confirmation. Absolutely no collateral, regardless of 'style' or difference in run techniques.] She crossed her arms under her chest and stared at Kellan. It was different from my own proposal - harder to pull off.

The others chipped in while Kellan stayed inwardly silent. Outwardly, she was blathering on about the curtain covered walls. Once the comments had tapered off, she laid out her plans. We agreed with them.

Ma'fan, Winterhawk and Cayman would go on an international run, while Kellan, Mutus and myself would stay here. We'd need a total of three Shadowmechs for this multi-part operation.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

10:42 AM. Vanian House of Antiques, 9347 W. Stygia, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

Kellan and myself walked into Vanian's without any trouble. It was situated between a freakish butcher shop and an all-night erotisense parlor. The exterior reminded me of a perfectly legal, if unsavoury, pawn shop. The smell of cordite and the disarmed keypad entry system convinced us we were too late.

[G1-Kia: I'm thinking we'll have bodies in here., I sent, as I looked around in the foyer. There was a coffee table surrounded by chairs, as well as some shelving along the walls. I walked behind the store counter and spotted the silent alarm and hidden Ares Predator. Nothing special on display here.

[G1-Kellan: We'll just do a sweep to double check, then., Kellan sent as she pushed open the door by the counter.

I walked around to the other side of the foyer and headed to the back.

[G1-Kellan: First corpse found. Some oriental guy, shot three times in the chest. The large entry wounds suggest a high caliber weapon.]. She moved through the back rooms.

I heard her open the doors as I walked. We met up in the rear workshop. This would have been a major haul for any thief, as the walls are lined with shelves full of assorted gear. The two work tables and the small desk also had their own share of items spread over them.

I squatted beside the farthest table. [G1-Kia: Another one here. Middle-aged tech, looks like. His chest was ripped apart, either by some massed bullet fire or explosive ammunition.] I backed away from the corpse, and made sure not to step in any of the bloody liquids.

Time for a more comprehensive search, I thought. I glanced around the room, cycling through different visual features on my cybereyes. I opted to try out the 'process of elimination' suite: a perceptual filter that could 'dim' various items and 'highlight' other ones. I stepped carefully around the body, continually adding items I did not want to see.

Weapons, furniture, cyberware, boxes, ammunition... I picked up boxes, crates and heavy items. Clothing, accessories, maglocks, shelves... Nothing so far.

[G1-Kellan: Found something., she sent, and showed me the underside of a box.

She pulled it free, and I went beside her to look at it. The front read 'Jack Vanian, 9280 Shady Hill Lane, Apt. # 2112, Redmond, Seattle, UCAS.'

So much for my cybereye features. I didn't have the penetrative powers in them that Mutus did. Speaking of which, she has been rather silent.

[G1-Kia: Mutus? What's the situation out there?, I mentally asked her over group chat.

[G1-Mutus: I downed four snipers on the roof, four mercs on the street, and the pro assassin Clean Steve. You should find him by the front door on your way out. All hit with a cocktail of ten minutes memory removal and heavy duty sleepy time.]

I exchanged a glance with Kellan. These wouldn't be the cleaners. Some other faction must be in play.

[G1-Kia: How is it up there?, I sent, as I followed Kellan towards the front foyer.

In the front room, I found a body spread across the doorway. It must be Clean Steve. After a quick look outside, I dragged him behind the front counter and kept a look out. I felt rather silly doing so with Mutus being our eye-in-the-sky, but I felt better about it regardless.

Kellan went behind the counter and started to focus on the assassin. Memory scanning is such an incredibly useful tool.

[G1-Mutus: Well... How to put this. I'm hanging upside down underneath an invisible, stealthed, camoflaged drone that works by some tech I've never even heard of. I'm wearing some sort of harness system and environmental armour I've never even tried before. At any time, I could crash or a helicopter's rotors could slice me to pieces.]

[G1-Kia: So... Great, then?, I sent, and walked to the street outside.

The four mercs were in sight, each wearing an amour jacket and loaded with an assortment of weapons. I dragged each one into the store, and shoved them into the small office. I didn't bother getting all their weapons from where they fell in the street, instead I just kicked them off to the side.

[G1- Mutus: Yeah.]

I returned to the foyer to crouch beside Kellan. She was still working on the now slightly grungy 'Clean' Steve. He was a handsome looking young man with light blond hair and clear blue eyes. He was wearing a dirtied white turtleneck and a dark blazer. I didn't bother to check his pockets, as it would disturb our blond mage leader.

I sent Mutus the address we found, but told her to hold off on sending the drone there until Kellan directed us. A short time later, she shook herself out of her trance and got up.

[G1-Kellan: We're heading to Jack Vanian's place., she sent, after dusting off her hands. Mutus sent a confirmation. Kellan continued with, [Clean Steve was hired to erase some gangers and find a missing blueprint - which might be the one we have now. He was hired by a Mr. Johnson who had a weird look of many plastic surgeries on his face. We'll follow that lead if nothing shows up at Vanian's.]

Mutus and myself sent acknowledgements. I followed Kellan out of the store and to our disguised ride.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

11:18 AM. 9280 Shady Hill Lane, Apt. # 2112, Redmond, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

The journey up to the second floor stretched our suspension of disbelief. The squalor of his shop stood in stark contrast to the pricey hotel like vibe the Shady Hill Apartments generated. We even had to sign a register before we could enter the building proper, though it was only a formality, and the guards near mindless. I shot them all anyways, with a typical ten minutes memory loss and tranq bullet.

His room, the easily remembered apartment two-one-one-two, was located in the middle of others on the floor. Kellan stood in front of it and knocked on the door. A second later, the sounds of gunshots rang out, and fake wood splinters were flying. I instinctively hit Time Stop and assessed the situation, quickly.

Bullets had already impacted her chest. Not so much of an issue. However, judging by the path of the shots, the bullets were jerking upwards, and would intersect her neck and head in under a single real-time second. Fragging drek.

I stepped over closer to Kellan and the door and set up some very precise shots. I'd need to shoot away each individual bullet as it approaches. I did that for the visible ones and awkwardly positioned myself between her and the hole-filled door. Time Stop was replaced with Bullet Time, and everything resumed, if in slow motion.

Kellan was already falling backwards from the impacts. My earlier aimed shots safely redirected the incoming bullets. I watched, from mere inches away, the door slowly break apart under the hail of metal. I had to twist my hand and fire at each individual one, in the slowed time between it breaking through the door and breaking into me. The space was barely a single finger-length's worth, and the intervals were mere subjective seconds.

Luckily, the weapon was merely a semi-auto pistol and it ran out of ammo before the strain of holding the power knocked me out. I spared a second to fire a tranq bullet through the now hole-filled door, and resumed normal time flow. I immediately went down into a crouch, dizzy with exertion.

"Frag," Kellan said, as she stumbled up to me. She was holding her hand against her forehead, with some blood spilling out. Before I could panic about her injury, she continued, "Some wood splinter drek hit me. He's out?" At my nod, she unsheathed a short sword from her back and started hacking away at the door.

Considering we weren't willing to do that to people, the door was her target of anger release. I approved. When there was next to nothing left, she kicked the remainder away and walked into the apartment. If this place really was as classy as the appearance suggests, we'd need to move fast before Lone Star or the building security gets here. I sent those thoughts to her and she replied in an affirmative.

We didn't speak about her near death experience. Instead, she immediately went down beside the unconscious man. After she sheathed her sword, she pressed her hands against his forehead and closed her eyes.

I didn't disturb her, but instead looked around the apartment. It was a mess. Trash and junk lay strewn everywhere around his suite, along with the leavings of one or more small animals. I didn't see any pets, so... Drek. It made my own minor messes into a draga class hotel in comparison.

Kellan finished with Jack Vanian as I watched the pair of them. I had a self-sticking bandage ready for her once she finished. She blinked at me a few times before using it, along with a muttered 'thanks.' She got up and rummaged among one of the boxes in the living room here. Kellan picked out a cybereye from among the other trash and and passed it to me, but not before tapping the serial number on the side of it.

After a quick data dump from the ever-valuable Ops N, I recounted the details to the others. [G1-Kia: The cybereye belonged to a guy named Griffin Moore. He died in a 'car accident' several weeks ago and was interred at the Hammond Necroplex. Get this, though - he worked as a quality control inspector for Multitech. The first part of a chain of drek shows up. On top of that, he obviously was not interred at the Necroplex - or at least not all of him was.]

While Kellan digested these new bits of information, Mutus chipped in.

[G1-Mutus: Just downed another four troubleshooters and a sniper. Just like shooting down a range. Hanging upside down. From a drone.]

I sent her some words of thanks and her grumbling subsided.

[G1-Kellan: I've put together a bunch of things. Tell me if it's drek, chummers?, she sent us while pacing back and forth on the carpet of the filth covered apartment. [We have somebody that hires Clean Steve - whose face looks like it's been heavily surgically altered. Alongside that, there is a necroplex which is missing at least part of one corpse. What are it's accounts like? What has happened to it recently?] Her pacing stopped and she looked at me.

I consulted Ops N and began to report my extensive findings, [G1-Kia: The personal accounts of Thaddeus Sinclair, the Hammond Group's Director of Operations, were filled with nothing but drek until several months ago. He suddenly was getting regular payments to the tune of 50,000 nuyen from Berkley Management. Our cybereye donor was supposedly interred in this time period. Then, there was a 'gas leak' and lot of the employees of the necroplex died. After that, the regular payments stopped. Berkley Management is the owner of Agrippa and Associates, a Puyallup-based waste management and removal company. It was created by Adam Shepard, who used a high quality fake identity to do so. That management company's sole purpose was to bid for - and obtain - Agrippa and Associates by any means. Nothing underhanded on record, of course. The employees of Agrippa were phased out, and not replaced - but neither was any new equipment purchased.]

[G1-Kellan: Can you find a picture of Adam Shepard on record and send it to me?, she sent the question with a hopeful smile.

Ops N dutifully supplied it, and I redirected it to Kellan. She fist pumped the air in jubilation.

[G1-Kellan: They match!, she sent out to us. [The best way I could put this all together, is that Adam Shepard is a ghoul - or close enough to not matter much - and he had some sort of arrangement with the necroplex director. The eye donor was munched on by some ghouls, who were bled by the gangers who sold it to Vanian. Mr. Shepard probably knows more. Is there any obvious chains of events linking back to mister plastic surgery that the cleaner squads could follow?]

[G1-Mutus: Just downed a pair of street samurai and an elven mage. Any idea who they are?]

Kellan blinked for several times before silently replying, [G1-Kellan: They would be the backup for Vaniar here. They could stay safely asleep. Kia...?]

I shook my head in the negative. Ops N didn't provide me with any possible chains for the corp cleaners to follow.

[G1-Kellan: Well then! Agrippa and Associates aren't going anywhere. Let's hit up all the other spots and see if we can get more involuntary recruits for Marquis, in addition to the four troubleshooters and the sniper here. We'll also need a massive stash of protein for my plans...]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

11:47 AM. Outside Room 213, Gibson Hall building, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

The most reassuring thing about coming to this high-rise situated in an industrial park was how Ops N told me that she had already defused the bomb in Neil's lab. It was due to go off over half a hour ago. All three of us sent her sincere thanks for that action.

After Kellan cautiously knocked on the door, a tap on the simple identicard system granted us access. In sight of the two of us were three computer and desk setups to the right, and two closed doors to the left. I went left without saying anything and entered what looked like a storeroom.

The shelves here contained reams of paper, extra diskettes, cleaning supplies, and so on.

Since I was already burned once on my inferior searching skills earlier today, I enabled multiple suites of scanning and measurement systems while I looked around. A simple measurement comparison setting showed me a false back in one of the storage cabinets. Some poking and prodding of it caused the false section to come off, which revealed some interesting cybergear. A tap on each was enough for Ops N to give me the run down on each piece. None were worth taking along.

I left the storeroom and kept to my side. The door led to an office. Kellan waved from where she was looking at something on the the office desks, which I returned before stepping inside the small room.

The office contained an incredibly neat desk. A finger ran over the surface revealed not even a trace of dust. There was a pair of framed photos on it, but that was all. A pull of the drawers revealed a credstick, a light pistol, and a still-sealed box of ammunition. I flipped through the paperwork and Rolodex. No contacts and no addresses were found anywhere. The file cabinet was also a waste of time.

I walked out of the office in the hopes that Kellan had better luck.

"Hey," I said, as I eyed the three work stations. "Found any swag here?"

"Frag all," she replied. "Somebody did a good job before us. Too bad the bomb wasn't worth saving. I talked to Cayman about it, and he said it was just small charge. Probably designed to breach the wall and hit the gas line, which would then do the primary source of damage."

"Can't always hit paydata," I said. "At least we can tell Alpha Blue about the odd personal memento here."

She shrugged in agreement and we left the lab.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

1:14 PM. Smallville suburban housing development, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

Ah, yes. Nothing quite like an ambush to get your blood flowing, I thought, as I stared at the house of Dutch Donovan. More so when you get to spring them yourself. I grinned and looked around. Just me at the moment. Kellan was coordinating with Mutus, our floating sky-sniper.

Everything about this place reeked of the mainstream: the synthturf, the uniform hedgerows and identical trees, and the neat little rows of whitewashed buildings. Per Ops N's supplied info, nearly every tenant here were an employee of Multitech.

This is going to be wizzer!

I walked up the paved driveway to Donovan's house and knocked on the side door. After a short while, a man answered the door. I kept my eyes locked on his and showed him the biggest, drek-eating grin I could possibly make.

"Hello there!" I cheerfully began. "Have you heard of the Universal Brotherhood? Do you want to accept an insect spirit into your life?"

"...What?" The now puzzled operative replied.

I activated Time Stop, followed by the quick draw of my Ares Predator infinity. He was then tranq shot at both of his exposed hands. I holstered my weapon and then ducked underneath his outstretched arm, and positioned myself behind him. Resume. He fell into my waiting arms and I carried him further back.

Next!

...

They didn't have a chance.

We ended up with six operatives, four snipers and a pair of combat mages. I really hope Marquis can do something good with these forces. It's not like we're fighting a war or anything, right?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

2:54 PM. Outside the Hammond Necroplex, Renton, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

The huge, gray, stone pyramid towered above the smaller buildings that surrounded it. Over ten stories, it likely held thousands of entombed corpses all permanently sealed into it's concrete walls. A city of the dead. There was what looked like an adjoining corporate tower beside it, much smaller and more insignificant under the shadow of the necroplex.

Too bad Mutus' sight and ammo options were not quite up to the standard of going through all those layers of concrete. I shrugged, and turned to Kellan and quietly said, "How do you want to do this?"

"How much security in the necroplex?" She asked me in the same volume.

"Four guards, traveling in pairs, who are assigned to the whole twelve floors," I replied, and cast my gaze up and down the pyramid. "One directing chief in the security office of the corp building beside it. Ops N has blinded him."

I paced back and forth on the sidewalk while Kellan thought things over. No unusual traffic here. Some cars were passing by on the road beside us, and the odd corp and the much rarer guttertrash were moving to their own purposes.

She gestured me in towards the necroplex, and started to explain her plan as we walked.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

3:37 PM. Sixth floor, Hammond Necroplex, Renton, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

We had managed to find some serious paydata by inspecting the recent internment sites. One in three were empty - likely ghoul chow. So too was that of Griffin Moore, the first guy geeked in a trail of bodies.

I gazed down at the sleeping form of generic guard number four. They were all drek-filled muscle-heads, lightly armed and armoured. I poked him with a toe. Yeah, he'll be out for quite a while.

Kellan finished up on number three as I watched. She gestured me closer, and I complied.

"What's the biz?" I asked her, and half crouched beside the unconscious drek.

"Three of them so far have been spooked about the earlier massacre," she said. "The rumours on the inside are that of ghosts that did the killing, no matter what the newsfeed says about gas leaks."

"So?" I replied, with a light shrug. "One ghost or a drek-load full, it won't help us out."

She pulled out a small, thick coin from a pocket within her jacket. It looked to be made of a dark, glittering steel-like alloy. A large, red-tinted, faceted clear gem was in the middle of it, about the size of my thumb tip. She tapped the coin with a fingernail and said, "A personal gift and field experiment from Mr. Umbrella. The metal is thinaun, and he said it has been enchanted with complex, layered spell effects like soul bind and trap the soul. If it performs as he says, all it has to do is touch a spirit and it will get sucked in."

Wizzer, I thought, impressed. It was about time that the mages in his employ received some wiz gear.

"Want to patrol the rest of the necroplex, then, Kellan?" I asked her. Her light smile and spark of excitement fell as I watched her face. "...A spirit is right behind me, isn't it?" She nodded, cautiously, and I slowly turned around.

On first impressions, the spirit looked like no such thing. He appeared as a white-haired, pale-faced, gaunt mortician dressed in a black suit. Mine was classier. As I watched it, I held out my hand behind me. I wiggled my fingers several times for emphasis, and she eventually placed the heavy coin onto it.

Time Stop was followed by smooth return to standing position, whereupon I walked over to the fake mortician and leaned the coin against his foot. I retreated a few steps back before I resumed normal time.

With a metallic, ringing 'ting,' the coin fell over onto the concrete floor. The pale-faced spirit was gone. Not one to deprive Kellan of her prize, I bowed and invited her to claim it.

She snorted, but stood up and retrieved it. The coin was placed inside a draw-string bag, and tucked inside her armoured jacket. She gave me a huge grin, and let out a massive breath of relief.

"Thanks, chummer," she said. I waved it away with a big smile of my own.

Time to raid the corp offices of the Hammond Necroplex.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

6:13 PM. Waiting room of the offices of Agrippa and Associates, Puyallup, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

Kellan was recounting what she picked up from Thaddeus Sinclair, the Hammond Group's Director of Operations. We had already gone over the financial details earlier in the day, so only the missing parts were needed.

[G1-Kellan: The paydata was right on, chummers. The necroplex corp was selling corpses after an anonymous person blackmailed him with some found simporn.] She settled back further into the ratty office chair. It, much like my own, was on the way to falling apart. [They were dropped by a nearby sewer entrance. Our eye donor was part of the food bank during this time. The only thing that stopped this meat biz was when the disturbed spirit of the dead iced thirteen employees over multiple floors of both buildings.]

I nodded, impressed. That little coin caught an ace cleaner spirit.

[G1-Kellan: Proving that the corp wasn't totally soulless drek, he stopped selling the corpses after the massacre and actually felt guilt about his dead employees. A far different exec than the kind of drek we've been meeting lately. He's fragging scared of the spirit, being blackmailed and more. Barely a sentence away from turning his own head into Chinese take-out via dine-in bullets.] Her chair creaked as she tilted it back and forth. [How's it looking up there, Rimbo ace?]

We both grinned at each other over the brief messages of profanity that followed.

Mutus eventually calmed down, and sent, [G1-Mutus: Killzone is prepped and ready. There is about a dozen ghouls surrounding the office. Say when you want them to nap, chummer.]

Kellan sent back an acknowledgement and a request to wait. She signalled me to start my act.

"Mr. Shepherd!" I all but shouted into the back rooms. "We've been waiting here long enough. Don't you want to hear about the Hammond Necroplex? We found plenty there. Like about Berkley Management, Agrippa and Associates, and some false identities that aren't nearly as good as you think they are."

It was the last sentence that had him walking into the waiting room. Adam Shepherd appeared as a businessman fresh out of a corporate college and a high end doc's facial surgery knives. He had thick, black eyebrows and short, stiff hair. The faint scars on his face were further marred by the peculiar sheen of extensive plastic surgery. His cybereyes - of excellent quality, no doubt about it - seemed to have tracking problems. They instead stayed locked straight ahead, angled to his head.

Treated as a whole, his expensive suit hung somehow wrong on his gangly frame. Of top of which, he wore a rather heavy dose of cologne with a peculiar odor underneath it.

Is that what ghoul smells like? I thought to myself.

"What can I do for you?" Adam Shepherd asked, as he seated himself onto one of the remaining rickety waiting room office chairs. He forced his back straight against the rear of the chair, as it seemed his inclination was to lean forward. His voice and tone were the apex of politeness.

"That depends on you, Mr. Shepard," I replied, with a slight smile. "Right now we are being friendly. You haven't threatened us, and we haven't released a hail of high-explosive bullets into the ghouls around this building."

His hands tightened into fists, and what sounded like the tiniest edge of a suppressed growl came from him. Looks like his ambush setup wasn't quite as pleasing as he wanted. Adam repeated his earlier question, even more carefully and slowly.

"We've come across a lot of paydata over the course of this day," I began, and dropped my mild smile for a neutral expression. "Everything seems to come down to Multitech International, their fragging cleaner squads, and some rather interesting blueprints. We know why Multitech wants them, obviously, but we don't know why you - or a certain sleeping, turtle-necked assassin - does. Perhaps you could help us out there."

"You know about me, then?" He asked, as he looked between the two of us. "What I am? What is being done to my people? A bounty system that glorifies their slaughter, regardless of any actions on their part?"

"Yes, Mr. Shepherd," I replied, not reacting to the emotional appeal. "I'm not particularly happy about the situation that those that have been infected with HMHVV face. It's possible that I may be able to help you in regards to that and other issues. But, for now, I'm interested in Multitech, and your take in it."

He didn't show any disappointment on his face. It's possible that with all his surgeries that he wasn't even able to do so.

"I want to achieve a safe haven for my people and can do so through Multitech." He spoke quietly. Neither of us interrupted, and he continued with, "with the proof of their fraud, I intend to place myself on their board of directors."

I blinked in shocked disbelief.

"Let me get this straight," I began. "You, Mr. Shepherd, a ghoul with a high-grade, but still fake identity, highly visible signs of plastic surgery and who uses excessive cologne to mask his scent, intend to blackmail a corp that supplies optical chips to megacorps and military forces." I took a deep breath to stop myself from laughing. "This same corp, Multitech, is perfectly willing to kill their own employees to cover up their defects, along with anyone who knows about them. They have full time cleaner squads on their payroll. We even ran across a bomb of theirs that would take out most of a rented building's floor, whose sole purpose was to remove the fact that they were there. Is that the corp you want to blackmail to get onto their board?"

He nodded, stiffly.

"Are you sure you're not feral, Mr. Shepherd?"

"Yes," he calmly replied, "I am quite sure that I am not feral."

"You don't seem rather smart, then," I said. "Do you truly want your secret exposed and yourself and those under you to be killed that badly? Or do you naively think that Multitech is some sort of juvie in a classroom and you're the biggest bully in the yard?"

Adam stared at me in silence. "You make it seem like I'm rather stupid," he finally said.

I didn't say anything, but merely raised my eyebrows. The implication was clear. No fragging kidding, chummer.

"Your assessment of the situation was... Rather harsh. But accurate." He knit the fingers of his hands together in his lap. "Are you proposing an alternative, then? Or do you intend to merely mock me and my kind?"

"Let me check something out with you, Mr. Shepherd," I said. He nodded, and I continued. "Regardless of all the other details, would you say that your only true and actual concern is the safety of your people? Or does the greed for nuyen and power overshadow that completely?"

"I am not adverse to wealth and the power of influence," he replied. "But my primary concern is to the safety of my people, yes."

"Does it matter where that comes from, or does it have to be from the unreliable, lethal, and soon-to-be-destroyed Multitech?"

"Soon to be destroyed?" He asked me, and I nodded in reply. He visibly swallowed, and continued, "How would you... No, I don't want to know. What do you want with me, then?"

"The rest of the blueprint pictures would be wiz," I replied. "We don't need them for our purposes, apart from a sense of sheer completeness. It would gain some cred with us. I repeat, Mr. Shepherd, does it matter where that support you are looking for comes from?"

"No," he said, and shook his head. "No, it does not."

"I'd like to offer you a proposal, then, Mr. Shepherd," I began. "I'm not entirely adverse to your story and situation, and my patron would likely feel the same way. If you are fully honest with them, to the same degree that you tried with us two here, I'll give you very good chances."

The well-dressed ghoul made some brief contemplate noises before speaking again. "Who is your patron, then, that they would deal with... Ghouls... Politely?"

I broke my neutral facade to give him a smile, and said, "The name of our ultimate patron may be revealed in due time. His liaison to the whole world, however, goes by -"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

7:44 PM. Waiting room of the offices of Agrippa and Associates, Puyallup, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

"- director Silla Trebheart," Mr. Shepherd continued. "Thank you. Thank you very much. This is all very helpful. I'll keep in touch." With that, he hung up his vidphone and looked at us. "I never would have expected the Umbrella Import Group to have a hand in my affairs. They would be quite a step up from Multitech. Very much so. And yourselves? Are either of you recorded on this site's security cameras?" I answered his question with a drek-eating grin, and he merely shook his head. "A visit from the Invisibles and the support of the UIG. This day is full of surprises."

He stood up, and went to the door leading out into the compound. Turning back to us briefly before he left, he said, "Please excuse me for a brief while. I have something for you."

We waited in silence for less than five minutes before Adam Shepherd returned. He had a thin profile metal document box under his arm. The kind of thing used to transport fragile items that are not to bent or warped in any way. He handed it to me, and I opened it only somewhat cautiously. A number of what appeared to be blueprints were contained in it. I passed the case to Kellan and returned my focus to our new potential corporate chummer.

"Wiz, Mr. Shepherd?" I asked him.

"Quite, Kia," he replied, polite as he has been this whole time.

"What's next for you, then?" I continued. His immediate problems seem to have all been solved, with the more long-term ones on their way to such as well.

"The Chicago Containment Zone," he answered. "There is a lot of public sympathy around the newly published diaries of the ghoul, Tamir Grey. His continued moderate support of my people and metahumanity provides a contrast to the more militant views on either side. Considering that the walls of the CZ are effectively down, so too is an easier access to their... Food source. Once things stabilize here, I'll see if your organization can help extract the mass of them to here."

"And Ms. Trebheart's views on the topic?" I asked.

His poorly fitting expensive suit shifted with his shrug. "She wants both feral and lucid ghouls for possible treatments. I don't know how successful such would be, but having open discussions about it are much better than the clandestine alternatives."

I stated my agreement. We exchanged more pleasantries, which Kellan contributed to, and then left the office building. There were no traces of any ghouls in sight.

One last stop.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

8:32 PM. Roof top of Multitech International, Bellevue, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

The visual distortions created by our Shadowmech vehicle were only apparent if you stared hard at it - or so Kellan had told me, the odd times she tried to do so without her hi-tech glasses being worn. With my cybereyes, it showed up as a simple, high-contrast colour against the surroundings. In this case, it was yellow with black line detailing.

I only had one job right now - hold a gas line hose in place. To give you an idea of how overly cautious Umbrella is, even the fragging hoses were stealthed. [G1-Kia: What's the progress on the gas, Kellan?, I sent out. Much like the Azzie complex we had hit a while ago, this entire Multitech building was put together as a fortress. Two very notable and convenient features of said fortress were an environmental seal option, combined with an internal air system that provided for the entire structure.

[G1-Kellan: 76%. We still have a while to go. How are things looking up there, Mutus?]

Kellan was inside the Shadowmech, keeping an eye on the gas feed. From my end, I observed the attachment point. It was secured with some sort of putty-glue combination to a shunt in one of the condensers on the roof. Used for air conditioning, they also served our purposes rather well.

[G1-Mutus: I've been hanging upside down for almost half an entire day. Perhaps I can tell you both about the sanitary connections involved in this suit? The insertions required? The vacuum action?]

Apart from her complaints, Mutus had been absolute aces today. Nobody - that I'm aware of - expects a sniper shot from the very sky above them. Her oversight was the best we've ever had so far. The only real 'learning experience' had involved that tense moment when that trigger happy paranoid shop-keeper had shot through his own door.

The yellow Shadowmech stayed immobile as I looked at it. It was also stocked with a nice stash of convertible biomass, in case we finally got to use it for making body doubles. I frowned when a realization hit me.

[G1-Kia: Hey chummers! Does the body duper account for cyberware and biomods? If not, we're kinda fragged here.]

A chorus of profanity greeted my comments in reaction. Only when Kellan reassured us about it - [G1-Kellan: Ops N told me that nanotech reconstruction of cyberware and other substances is on by default, and uses nearby materials or feed stock.] - did Mutus and myself calm down.

[G1-Kellan: We are at 100%! Gas catalyst... Triggered. Everybody should be out like a light. Nobody seems to like artificial lungs, for some reason. Not that it matters when the action is so rapid, though - even the air in their lungs gets changed. Hold a sec... Alright. None of the sensor suites are picking up any motion. With any luck, we'll bag an exec or two.]

A yellow rectangle formed out of the Shadowmech, and Kellan climbed out. She helped me to disengage the gas hose connection and apply some self-morphing, colour adapting filler to the broken spaces.

My job is so wizzer, I thought. We get all the best hardware.

...

Level Five, Research and Development, Executive Office.

[Kia: Wiz! We've got Maximilian Stern! The highest level exec in the building!]

[Kellan: Start a pile by the elevators. I'll get to work on them.]

[Kia: On it. Two bodyguards as well.]

...

[Kia: Some minor crime evidence on their system. Nothing special.]

...

Level Four, Research and Development

[Kia: Oh, frag. What, is everybody a dedicated wageslave here? Why are there so many late evening suits? Drek...]

...

Sub-level Two, Security and Building Support

[Kia: Security offices... Armory... Whole bunch of dragging of drek filled badges to the elevator.]

...

Sub-level One, Parking

[Kia: There are two guys that were shagging in one of the parked cars here.]

[Kellan: So? Bring them.]

[Kia: ...Drek.]

...

Ground Floor and Offices

[Kia: More late suits. If we do this kind of clean up biz again in the future, late night only. I'm talking 2 to 4 AM in the morning.]

...

Level Two, General Offices

[Kia: I hate wageslaves.]

...

Level Three, General Offices

[Kia: Did I mention that I hate wageslaves? In case it did not come through: I hate wageslaves. The only thing worse than wageslaves is carrying their unconscious forms around.]

...

[Kia: All done, then! That's every floor hit. We've got a massive pile of bodies by all the elevator banks.]

[Kellan: Wiz, chummer! Now you can get started on the body doubles - come back up to the roof and start bringing in the bodies and dressing them. I've already got the copies all queued up, so all you have to do is carry them.]

[Kia: Oh. Really? Frag my life.]

[Mutus: The sky is lovely up here. Beautiful view of the plex at night.]

[Kia: Drek. Drek everywhere.]

...

No One Particular Level Anymore

[Mutus: I'm getting updates from Ops N around Lone Star activity. Some of these wageslaves chummers or whatever must have phoned in their absences. We're taking too long - this might turn into another bunker buster drekhole.]

[Kellan: On it. Kia - get the red and... Pink, no blue spray bottles from the locker in the Shadowmech marked with the biohazard symbol. And - this is the VERY important part, chummer - only spray the body doubles with the red one. Everyone else - those that get to stay alive - get the blue spray. The ones we bring with us get NO spray on them.]

[Mutus: You're not going to screw that up, right, chummer?]

[Kia: Nope, I'm wiz.]

[Kellan: I'll ask Ops N to start prepping the "Oh Drek! Bio-warfare outbreak!" plan.]

[Mutus: You have a plan for that?]

[Kellan: I have plans for that.]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Saturday, October 6th, 2057, 9:47 AM. Reno's, Battery Street and Fourth Avenue, Downtown Seattle, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

This was Alpha Blue's turn to get impressed. Kellan had invited her to dine out on our credsticks. Reno's may not be as ritz as some of the more exclusive places in downtown Seattle, but the word on the street was that he has been a runner financier at times. There shouldn't be any obvious risk from being seen here, and judging by the presence of the bodysuited mourner, she thought so too.

In a flashback to our experiences with Mary Falls as a Ms. Johnson, Kellan insisted that Alpha Blue eat up before we talked biz. We joined her in it, and a waiter collected our dishes afterwards.

"What's the occasion?" Alpha Blue asked Kellan. "Did you find a good lead? I would have been fine with a vidphone call."

"More than that, Alpha Blue," Kellan replied, as she pulled out the thin metal document case from her benched shoulder bag. It was slid over to our Ms. Johnson, who opened it and flipped through the charts with escalating degrees of happiness. "Biz is wiz."

"Absolute wiz, chummers," Alpha Blue said quietly as she leafed through the plans one last time. She closed the case with a happy sigh, and made to reach into her pockets for a credstick.

Kellan stopped her, and said, "Alpha Blue, we've got much more good news for you, but I don't know if we went too far or not."

"What do you mean?" She asked Kellan.

Our blond mage leader prompted Cayman, and the street samurai started to speak, "Alpha Blue, some chummers of mine in Shanghai reported that Johanthon Ki Won, the President and CEO of a private corporation by the name of Multitech International, went into a drug based berserk fury. He managed to ice a good portion of the board of directors, as well as Dutch Donovan, a wizboy who was doing a presentation on a corrected optical chip. This president, then so utterly distraught about his actions... Fragged himself. Hard. It's a crying shame, surely." He shook his head back and forth in mock sadness. "It's a great thing to have friends all the way over there, isn't it?" Cayman toasted her with his mug of beer and sipped it, though a small smile of his own may have crept in.

Miss bodysuit was more laughing than crying, though those two blended together rather nicely. She dabbed her eyes dry with a table napkin.

Kellan spoke up again once Alpha Blue recovered enough to pay attention. She pulled out her Umbrella computer pad and passed it over. It was preset to display a live camera feed of a number of kneeling, tied up individuals, each with a blindfold on. They were surrounded by ghouls holding weapons. There was no audio with the video feed.

"This," Kellan began, as she tapped the computer pad, "is an... Old style two-dee movie. Mixed with a bit of a game. You see, lined up in a row here are a number of fragging dreks who work at Multitech International, Seattle Division. But it has to be a game, because all their bodies were found this morning at the Multitech building in Bellevue, where a strange, quick-acting disease iced some corps there." Kellan tilted her head to lock eyes with Alpha Blue. "The purpose of this game is to choose how these fraggers get geeked. Do they get a quick shot to the head? Or tossed to the ghouls, toes first? It is one hundred percent your choice, chummer." She redirected her attention to the pad again. "Let me tell you about the contestants. The first one we have nick named 'Maximilian Stern,' for the head exec in Seattle. The fictional story of his involvement with cleaner squads went something like this..."

Here's to hoping Alpha Blue won't be crying again for quite a long time, I thought. I toasted my mental images with a beer and listened to the sound of happy endings.

2.3 - "Planar Samurai's Catalogue"

Monday, October 8th, 2057 (Shadowrun calendar).

"This is DJ Darco Smooth! Today is another day to put off being productive by listening to me. Oh yeah! Thank you all, every single one of you fine folks out there. And if you toxic shamans and insect mages could give a shout out? It'd be much appreciated. At terminal velocity. Yeah!"

"So! How is everyone doing today? We've got a very, very special show. It's called the 'Azzies Are Doing Blood Magic, You Schmucks, So Listen Up!' Like the title? I just thought of it just now."

"In order to simplify things just a wee tiny bit, I'll break up the title in more manageable pieces. I'll assume and pretend that you know what 'schmucks' are, as well as how to listen. If you can't, well... Please use the trideo remote controller in the shape of an Ares Predator by putting it in your mouth and pressing the channel-changing trigger multiple times. Additionally... No, I don't want to crush what little hope I pretend I have for all of you. Where is that persona chip again..."

"Hey there, folks! Start with the big name itself. Azzies, as is your ass is Z, otherwise known as Aztechnology, is one of the biggest megacorps on the planet. They do this by being the most ruthless, evil sons-of-bitches possible and then smear artificial sweetener-laden soy-paste over that crap and feed it to the public. The best part about that? They eat it, and ask for more. I'm not going to hope that this little, insignificant show of mine will change anything. My only hope is that the few people already in the know will nod in recognition, while the masses curse and bemoan the oblivious, ignorant and misinformed voice on the radio."

"A brief history of the Azzies is thus: drug cartels got together. Formed a corp. Slapped down some laws. The end."

"Now, the good stuff - blood magic! Or at least my broken understanding of it. Blood magic is the process by which the feedback, pain, damage and whatever is redirected into physical pain, notably spilt blood. Casters can use their own, or that of some handy idiot. The best part of handy idiots is that they are a renewable resource! Yes! ...Probably one of the only ones left, too. Basically, they bleed out the poor sucker and then kill him. After all, if a little bit of blood is powerful, so too are deaths."

"Just as a note, the significance of the ritual acts of first degree murder depend on three things: the size of the creature, the amount of magical juice in it, and its intelligence. So at the bottom you have tiny little dumb animals. Move up the scale, and there is Awakened critters, mundane metahumans, Awakened metahumans, and... At the very top... Something that rhymes with 'Flagons.' Though there might be bigger, more powerful things out there. Those 'Flagons' forget a key rule: there is always something higher on the food chain."

"Now then! These deaths - these deliberate SACRIFICES - are especially handy for summoning up blood spirits. The thing is, they can't just be whipped out in a back alley somewhere. They need a setup - so first degree murder, basically, as compared to accidental manslaughter, if anyone cares - which involves those pyramid-like teocalli, with the sacrifice being ripped open up on a stone altar. The best thing about this is that the prepared stone altar does NOT need to be on the top of the pyramid! As long as the shape is right - and why don't you take a look at the Azzie structures at your local downtown site, why don't you? - that altar can be ANYWHERE in it!"

"The power level of those handy dandy spirits are dependent on the sacrifice. They have a suite of lovely powers, including being able to rip out people's souls and wear their bodies like puppets. Who knows! Maybe the prez there has a blood spirit in him, though only the the blood mage controlling him would know that for sure."

"Isn't that all just swell, folks? They can have an assembly line of first degree murder on one side, and your Stuffer Shack delights on the other! Everybody wins! Except those sacrifices. But they don't count, right? Walking dead meat. After all, every megacorp struts around and kills people left and right! Why should this be any different?"

"Good question, random listener of substandard intelligence! I'll let you be the judge of that with this lovely little story that hearkens back to the early twenty-fifties, right in the Seattle Metroplex. It concerns a little lady by the name of Fayette Myers; her aunt, Marti Vann; her deceased mother, the younger sister of Marti; and Anton d'Venescu, her father and a wage mage at the Tialoc Three outlet of Aztechnology. Can you see where this is going folks? I've give you a hint: everybody dies. EVERYBODY."

"Now the Azzie Anton figured out a ritual magic technique fifteen odd years ago before that point. It was apparently very powerful, and made him an initiate in some long-forgotten Aztec cult. As part of this lovely swearing-in ceremony, he swore to offer in sacrifice fresh heart-blood from his wife and their daughter, the baby Fayette. Aw, look at that doting father! He wants his family to become part of his corporate success! What a sacrifice that would be."

"Anton caught his wife, and did the deed. Halfway there, Anton! You can do it! Just one little baby heart to go!"

"But it was not meant to be! ...That easy. Fayette's mom was an ace decker, and she did some lovely little work on the Matrix to help out her daughter and screw over the Azzies at the same time. Good for you! You made your agonizing death into a final act of defiance to the blood magic workers!"

"Now dear old wife-murdering Anton was not having a great time at all. Those Aztec spirits were filling this poor, sad soul with nightmares of his failure. Do you feel for him, folks? Do you sympathize with his plight? If so, please use your Ares Predator model trideo remote control, by sticking it in your mouth and changing the channel via trigger action."

"Even the Azzies got annoyed at the madness this Anton displayed. But - like true, sadistic, evil, power-hungry, amoral incredible bastards that they are, they thought one awesome thought: 'hey, fellow amoral bastard blood mages, what if this freak Anton is right? All we'd have to do is sacrifice our spouses and a child of ours! For power! Power - the thing that actually matters to us! Let's see what happens. We might get lucky!'"

"So, they kept dear, sad, mad Anton in protective custody, keeping him from the ravages of that blood hungry Aztec being. They even kept him on the payroll, even though it was in a special ward beneath a little place called the Juzu Clinic. This continued on for a number of years. Something like... Fourteen of them."

"Now, the kind hearted, but ultimately stupid aunt, Marti Vann, decided that her dear niece should see the world outside of the sheltered, safe, and well-protected commune her dead sister arranged for her still-living daughter. This is where I put in my rant about good intentions and stupidity. Please consider said rant done with skill and flair. I'm not in the mood for it right now."

"Fayette lived and went to school outside that commune. She did the various things a female teen does, some of which are not suitable even for my own standards to orate to the public, and, by unlucky coincidence, managed to have a check up in an clinic which received large grants from Aztechnology. By a even greater stroke of foul unluck, Dr. Arhill of that Juzu Clinic, was the very doctor of her father, Anton. And, rather than do a 'good thing' - after all, folks, we've got a genuine amoral Azzie tainted bastard here! - he noted how she looked like Anton. He wanted to 'cure' Anton's cursed fate by bringing them together for some parent-child bonding time."

"Fayette felt the doom in the air and tried to escape. She didn't manage - the first time. The aunt, finally vaguely clued into the situation, hired some shadowrunners to find and protect her daughter. Is it too little, too late? Pretty much. Let me tell you how it goes."

"The runners checked out the school. They didn't find her. They checked out the bar, where she had met her boyfriend and runaway aide. Nope, she wasn't there either. Some fights happened, unsurprisingly. They tried their best, honourable mercenary souls that they were. But... They failed. They died. Just like her aunt, Marti Vann and her boyfriend, Nick Voigt. And Anton? Well..."

"It went something like this, in a lovely little article in the Seattle news, on the date of Thursday, June 8th, twenty-fifty-one. The headline was 'Magic Reveals Its Secrets at Aztechnology,' where, according to supervisor Anton d'Venescu, and I quote, "I owe it all to my daughter Fayette. With her contribution, I cut right to the heart of the matter."

"But, you may ask, how does this relate to my earlier comment about 'everybody' dying? That, dear listener, is more recent, interesting news. Let me tell you about some more falling corpses and how they came to be."

"That Dr. Arhill of the Juzu Clinic - he just went and killed himself over the last few days. Overdose on the clinic meds, or so the street rumours say."

"To get to the 'heart' of this matter, we have to look at another item on the big D's will. Specifically, the one relating to what lies behind the door of room 5B78 of the Aztechnology Pyramid in Tenochtitlán. Well, just hours ago, a report on that very subject was listed on Shadowland. It has resisted numerous attempts to be deleted or changed. It describes what went on in that room very recently. For over five years, that room has been an initiation center for the very Aztec cult that Anton founded. Just full of various ritual equipment... And the still preserved, intact hearts of the many, many wives and children of all the initiates Anton welcomed."

"Those many preserved organ bits were not because of the many initiates, but because each degree of initiation required a new child and a new, bonded partner. Yes. Thats right. Every single one of those blood mages was a repeat killer of their own baby children, as well as their 'bonded' mothers. They realized early on that slave branding also qualified, so no high quality ladies would have to disappear. That's blood magic for you."

"There was an addition to those grisly reminders. They were the full arms and legs of many men, with each limb having many names carved into them, of the owner - and who they sacrificed. There was also a mass of cyber and bioware scattered around. I'm assuming that it came from the limb donors. On top of that, there was writing, in blood, in the room. Now, before you fine folk tell me something like, "oh, blood on the walls! Anybody can do THAT! Why, in my last run..." I'll state that said blood was NOT on the walls. Neither was it brown and dried. Instead, it was floating in the air, red, pulsing and glowing, each word contained somehow by an invisible force. What did those words say? Well... I'll have to quote it. Perfectly."

"THEY ARE NOT DEAD YET."

"What can that mean, you wonder? The clue to that lies in the Shadowland posting. One of the last lines referred to 'ongoing experiments' and 'how much can be removed while they still qualify as technically alive.' The very last reference speaks of how the Draco Foundation should keep the five million nuyen, as a big supply of living blood mages will be coming at some point. The implication is that they will be alive. Damaged? Doubtlessly. Insane? Perhaps! But alive? Yes."

"My apologies, folks. I just realized that that 'everybody dies' comment was technically incorrect, assuming that these messages are themselves correct."

"On top of this very bloody news, there are reports that those limbs - as well as some bloody eyeballs - have been seen animated, living and speaking in the private rooms of Azzie execs at night. Every night. They bypass every single magical protection available, and they appear to be getting more and more irritated. I wonder what they could possibly want?"

"Why don't we all give a round of applause to those blood mages! I'm certain that they will meet with a very just end, very soon."

"That's all for now, you very fine folks. Until next time, think of those poor, sobbing, vomiting, nightmare-ridden Azzie execs and the things that plague them. Sweet dreams, everyone else."

"To reach me, stare roughly in the direction of Tenochtitlán and think of 'equal payments for services rendered,' while speaking into live static, saying my name, DJ Darco Smooth, three times. These thoughts will prevent any sort of negativity being sent your way, after all - it's not like you're cursing them or anything."

"Next time, I'm filling in the blanks with a combination of truth, humour and pain. I'll end this show, once again, with another moment of silence for those stained and suffering brown Red-ish Samurai."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Thanks, Mike."

"You're welcome, Tays."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

7:24 AM, Same day. Sanctum, Proximate to the Sigil entrance.

This was a very private showing of equipment. The only guest was Ray, also known as Raymond, Greyface, the Nameless One and... He doesn't want me spilling his real name. I realized after I talked to him at the Greenery a while back that I was making some rather large assumptions. Specifically, that there would be nothing for him to learn or use from the Shadowrun world. So, I aimed to rectify that through my very own item and equipment show-and-tell for him. I adapted them into actual use in the Sigil multiverse with some magitech and Tinker-tech adaptations thrown in for good measure, as well as some more classic 'historical' weapons from the Earth Bet multiverse.

We have been here for some hours already. He kept going back to some items, again and again. I didn't mind in the slightest because he was so incredibly happy here. It took me a while to realize why, but when it did - it was very obvious.

Everything here would have no traces in any of his memories - the many thousands of years of them.

I had substantially expanded the series of rooms and passages near the Sigil entrance. The ones that I had turned over to Ray and his group bore more than a passing similarity to the Invisibles' suites. At least with him and his friends I didn't have to wave away the concepts of warped space and other such fantastic acts. It was just noted as fact, and everyone carried on.

"This one again?" He asked me, as he gingerly held up the handle of a monofilament whip.

"Like an extremely sharp whip," I replied. "It cuts through most anything, including the hands, arms and bodies of incompetent wielders." My answer was the same as the last few times. I didn't bother changing it unless he asked me more clarifying questions.

He put it down equally carefully. Ray was still wearing his mithril scale armour I had modified for him during our time together in the Rainbow Rubikon. It was a very short two years from anyone else's perspectives. He had on two cross draw knives at his hips. They were his 'expendable' versions, which he did not mind losing or getting pickpocketed. They had some rather nasty enchantments on them for just that purpose. His more valuable items were kept in his personal hammer-space. Ray was able to confirm for me that access to that space worked independent of access to the astral or ethereal planes, but did not perform well in anti or null-magic zones. We were eventually planning on seeing how it would perform if some sort of magic generating system was kept active inside it.

Ray passed over the basic impact projectile weapons. Bows, crossbows and throwing weapons are rather distinctive wherever you go. He stopped again at the pistols, and hovered over a favourite choice. It was one that I added some perks to already.

"Modified Smith and Wesson model five-hundred," I said, smugly proud of it. Designed in the early two-thousands on Earth Bet and that realm's mirrors, it was touted as the 'world's most powerful handgun.' Production model, at least. "I threw on some durability effects, infinite ammunition and some other necessities. I'd prefer you not use it to bludgeon a stone golem to death, but it should last through at least one melee that way."

He picked it up and aimed it at the opposite wall. Ray didn't need to ask by now - I simply sunk into the generic brown floor a few inches and remade that side of the room into a temporary shooting gallery. I'll leave it intact this time. I reemerged after the changes were made.

A number of shots were fired down range. I previously told him about the silenced options, but he said he liked it loud. At least it could be saved as a surprise feature that way. Once the echoes of the last barrage faded from the room, he held it my way, eyebrows raised, in a silent question. I nodded in approval and he stored it in his hammer-space with a flick and a smile of thanks.

Ray passed on the more automatic weapons, such as assault and sniper rifles, as well as the larger models, like heavy machine guns and missile launchers. He stopped at the simsense equipment.

"These seem really complicated," he said, and turned over the optical chips, headset and datajack pieces. "All this work for something that a sensory stone could provide."

Oh? That peaked my interest.

"Those are the things that Sensates use, right?" He made some affirmative noises while reading the labels on the chips. "How do they work, exactly?"

"I'm not too sure on the particulars," he replied, "but it seems to record memories in full blocks. Thoughts, feelings, senses - everything. It could even be done to recently dead people, as evidenced by some of the post-death examples. Though I am unsure about intelligent undead... Regardless, using them merely involves focusing on the gem and being mentally drawn into it. Some Sensates overly indulge there - a few have even lost their jobs."

Sounds a lot like simsense addicts, with a trace of Better-Than-Life chips, I thought. A light-bulb of an idea followed.

"Ray?" He looked at me, questioningly. "Would you be able to get me a blank sensory stone? Money is not an issue. I want to see if there are... Compatibilities that could be explored. A whole new world market, even."

"Does that mean I get a finder's fee for inspiring you, then?" He asked me with a smile and a chuckle.

"More than that," I answered him, with a smile of my own. "You'd be a star."

Imagine that - Ray with his own entire simsense series. Recorded from the thought level up. Suitably edited, of course... My mind wandered into the possibilities when he spoke up again.

"A star? Like a far away sun? I don't get it."

Ah, I thought. This might take some explaining.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

8:37 AM.

"...And so many people waste their lives on these things?" Ray asked me, an expression of bewilderment and mild horror on his face. "Television, trideo, simsense chips? Video games? They spend hours of their days - perhaps the better part of their waking hours - sitting in front of their own equivalent of an interactive sensory stone? Why?"

"Simple, Ray," I replied, and put a hand on his mithril scale-armoured shoulder. "They either are unable to see, perceive, or otherwise understand the joy of living... Or their lives are so devoid of meaning, bleak and pain-filled, that any escape from their own reality is vastly preferable. There are other variations on those themes, but those are the biggest ones." I removed my hand, and gestured towards Sigil. "Do you not think that the inhabitants of the Hive would spend all day in front of sensory stones if they could?"

He looked at me, saddened. There was no need to reply to that.

"It's not all horrible for everyone, though," I continued, with a glance at Morte. He had joined half-way through my conversation with Ray. "Sometimes, the sight of a life-style far beyond their own can motivate the viewers to strive and reach for it." I shrugged. "It might not be that common, but in a big enough society - it can happen."

"How big?" He asked me. "How many make it out of that cycle of... Despondent addiction?"

I shrugged in response and said, "Out of the billions of people? Maybe one percent really achieve something."

He nodded in agreement. "They must have an extensively populated series of planes, then."

I blinked. "No, Ray. I apologize if I implied such - those numbers account for... A single prime world, so to say."

He stared at me as if to gauge whether I was serious or not. I nodded, and he seemed dazed at the implications. Morte used this opportunity to chip in.

"Psst!" The skull whispered to me. I leaned in, and he continued. "Can you elaborate further about... Ah... What was it called. Simsense... Porn?"

An idea burned itself to the forefront of my mind. I draped an arm around the floating skull and pulled him in closer.

"Morte," I began, "you have no idea about the possibilities. For you? I'm thinking we could start with... Tentacles."

"What use are tentacles?" He replied. "Only monstrous creatures have them. Total freaks and abominations. Heh. 'Tentacles,' he says. This is going to be a laugh!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

9:42 AM.

"... ease please please supreme arch-magus Rainbow Umbrella, master of your awesome domain! Anything you want! I'll... Clean up your store with my teeth! I'll..."

We had gotten to this sorry state of affairs after I had implied that I could give him 'tentacles.' This was only after he had watched a highlight reel of the most popular tentacle porn in existence - though I did make sure that the scenes in question were of the 'mutually happy' types of interactions. I had no interest in feeding him any of the negatively minded material.

"...can nibble your ears! Your toes! I'll promote Umbrella stores across the planes! I'll bash my head into the wall a thousand times! No, no... A MILLION times! YES! And... And... AND..."

I finally cut him off. "I don't believe you in the slightest, Morte."

He sputtered into speechlessness before he said, "Ah... Why would you say that, mister Rainbow Umbrella sir?" The eyeballs in his skull twinkled, if such a thing could be possible. I'm just glad he had no ability to self-polish his own head, otherwise that white, bony dome would likely be gleaming like the finest, mirror-finished white marble floors.

"Simple," I replied. "It's like this: there is something you want. You beg and plead for it. You get it. Then you either forget or don't even care about the price owed or due. Or am I wrong here? Has your nature changed that completely since you were pulled off of that pillar?"

Morte bobbed around. He started to talk a few times but cut himself off before any one full word came out. "Can I prove it, then?" He asked me, in a rare serious tone.

"You can attempt to do so," I answered him. "I don't know if you will succeed. Failure is a more likely outcome."

"What is it?!" The skull rapidly bounced up and down. "The scales of a still living red great wyrm dragon? Defeating a demilich in personal combat? Building a ten-thousand times scale replica of you out of adamantium? Insulting an infernal general of the Blood War in his own tent, surrounded by millions of demons and devils?!"

"No."

"Well?!"

"Get Annah and Fall-from-Grace to genuinely like you, without the use of magic, trickery or lies, and tell them WHY you are doing it."

Morte was stunned. His entire bony frame froze in midair. He slowly turned towards me in abject horror.

"...Can we talk about the red dragon? Or maybe I could put a collar on the terrasque and bring him to you? I... I heard some levels of the Abyss haven't been explored yet... Please? C'mon! I'm... I'm serious here..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

10:22 AM.

"How are you managing without Dak'kon, Ray?" I asked the tan-skinned friend of mine. We were in the smaller side room beside the main Sigil store. A moderately large amount of prep work and gearing up had passed for him and his now smaller group.

"I can honestly say that I don't really know, Rainbow," he replied as he leaned back in his own deep, plush black leather seat. "We've been in a rather emotionally charged experience to complete myself again - to the degree I'm doing, at least - but any claim I have to his company is tainted by the way it was obtained. Even if he stayed around me by choice, there still would be that overshadowing everything. You think I did the right thing?"

"Yeah," I replied, nodding. "I think some of the notables you've encountered on your journey said it best - when you were in a state of torment, you drew like, tormented people to you. Now, in the state you are at, that would change. People with you would either follow that change or leave. Some new people would be attracted to what you are, and are becoming." My own chair had been converted into a Lazy-boy type of configuration, which I stretched out on.

"How about you, then?" He asked me. "Anything changed between us? Those two years in the Rubikon aren't going anywhere."

"Nope, Ray," I answered him, and poked his head a few times. I found it enjoyable, so I continued a short while longer. "My interest in your lies in your fate, personality and power. I'm at a point where I'm no longer at conventional risk, but the people around me are. For instance, my employees. It has been passed on to me that at least one of them is in the process of being blackmailed. By the Garrote assassin's guild, no less."

"High quality enemies there," he said. "Or at least well financed ones. The purpose would be to get to you, or...?

I waved a hand vaguely in the air and said, "Something like that. The 'storekeepers.' Apparently, they can't get through the security. If they could get through it, I'd be more likely to cave in to whatever demands their host has."

"You caught some of them already, then?"

I only answered his question with a big smile.

He stared at the ceiling, silent. "I can't imagine that they are paying the assassins any where near enough," he finally said. He looked at me. "What are they paying them, anyways?"

I shrugged, and casually said, "Something comparable to demigods, apparently. I feel rather insulted."

We both shared a laugh at that.

"That leads to a good opportunity," Ray said. "All I'd need to do is tell one of those Garrote members what you'd really be worth, and that can be passed up the chain to scare them off. What do you think?" He looked at me with the question.

I shook my head and firmly said, "No way. While there may be some boastful appeal to the idea, revealing how far I am above demigods here could have divine-level repercussions."

He went silent again. Another idea was expressed when he said, "How about just paying them to kill the people that hired them to kill you?"

"Image issues, Ray," I replied, and gave him a faux-angry stare. "That locks in the perception that I'm a money dispenser stuck in a castle. I'd rather do something more... Substantial."

"Not reprogramming all the prisoners to kill their old fellow murderers?"

"It would just lead to an escalation of hostiles - and reveal my own capabilities."

"How about a parley with the leader or a rep?" He asked me. "With some sort of guaranteer?"

"They'd need a reason to come," I said. "It's not like I'm willing to send body parts of them back, and even if I did, they'd likely just escalate in violence in response."

"True," he replied. There was silence between us for a while. "What about this - a combination of both factors? Offer to release all the assassins you've captured with a safe parley of the organization leader? You'd keep anyone under the level of the head as further incentive. Maybe even stage a 'you can't kill me' challenge."

"That..." I paused, considering. "That actually sounds doable. I should also be able to figure out who hired them to get me, as well. Thanks, Ray."

He smiled in reply.

"Ah... Ray?"

"Rainbow? What?"

"Given your whole concerns with memory and so on, are you sure you're alright with the 'information security' measures I've been using? Memory restricting and so on?"

"Rainbow," he sighed, "the way I see it, you move in extremely dangerous waters. Not like the rapids where small stones and biting fish lie, but those dark deeps where massive leviathans that brood and wait lie. With one single attempt of those creatures - you're gone. I'm not going to say that I'm happy about it, but I completely understand and support your reasoning behind it."

"Thanks," I replied. "And sorry. Really. Let me know if you want a holiday at the Shadowrun world. I'll introduce you to some dragons that think they run the place."

"Sure," he said. "Sounds like fun." He pulled out a journal from his own hammer-space with a gesture, and began to leaf through the pages. "I've got some leads I can follow out in the city. Small contract work, a few things in different planes. A serial killer that hangs around the Clerk's Ward. That sensory stone sample you wanted." He looked up at me, eyebrows raised. "Anything else?"

"Faction work," I answered, "if you can get it. Any unique problems or situations you want to throw my way are also more than welcome. Apart from that, Ray... You know you can treat here as your home, right? I'm also your one-stop-portal shop, very cheap." I flashed him a grin.

"Got it, Rainbow," he said, distractedly poring over some pages.

"Um..."

"Hmm?"

"Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"To tell you the truth, I'm actually really terrified that..." I attempted to calm myself down with some deep breathing. "Now that your main problems are taken care of, you're just going to head off one day and... That'll be it. Yeah. Sorry." I sniffled and a few errant tears dripped. "It's happened before. Put it simply, I'm more worried about you drifting away than the reverse, if you get my meaning."

He stowed the book with a flick, and righted his chair. Two steps brought him beside mine. "Move over," he said quietly, and paired his actions with a wave to the side.

I instead turned the chair into a couch with a thumb snap. He snorted, and sat beside me.

"As it is right now, Rainbow," he began, "every time I die from now on, my patchwork soul comes here, to your own designed afterlife. You'd need to resurrect me, check out what is going on, and send me back. I think at least one of the others also opted for the same thing?"

I made some noncommittal agreeing sounds.

He softly said, "Apart from actually living here, full time, in-house, I don't know what else I can do to reassure you. I'm open, if you have some ideas." Ray waited silently.

It was strange to not have him smelling like a corpse. I hid my laugh at the idea with a cough, and another one popped up at the same time. Some acts of mental design and magic later, I had two rather nondescript books in my hands.

"It just came to me now, Ray," I said, as I held out one of the books to him. He took it and flipped through the blank pages. "I remember going over the planar version of the telepathic bond spell, and how it was a security risk. This," I tapped my own book, "is a lot more secure. It has a number of features, which I'll write up for you in one of our first exchanges, but the most 'safe-keeping' one is that it only transmits and receives writing - and other content! - when stored in either of our hammer-spaces." I paused, considering. "Which includes Annah, now that I think of it. So if we needed to exchange multiple short messages, it would require rather rapid storage and retrieval. That is why it detects as a mildly magic book, enhanced with durability and so on. It leaves a half-second or so illusionary afterimage, just for that reason." I demonstrated with some quick storing and retrieving of my own copy.

"Wow, thanks, Rainbow," he said, and gave me a light shoulder check with his own. He continued to examine the book from various different angles, and cast at least one spell on it as I watched. "For how long were you planning on giving this to me?"

"Ah..."

"Hmm?"

"I... Sort of just made it on the spot. A minute ago."

"You... Just... Made... What amounts to a minor artifact in less time than it takes for a full, deep breath?"

"Yes...?"

Did I do something wrong here?, I thought to myself.

"Yeah," Ray muttered to himself. "Those Garrote assassins are way, way underpaid."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

11:34 AM, Monday, October 8th, 2057. Private Limo driving around the Seattle Metroplex, UCAS. Director Silla Trebheart's POV.

"Hello, Hardpoint," I said. It was another team prospect interview. This time, it was for a rigger. He was an Anglo appearing dwarf, with some visible cyberware on his head and the ever-classy large, bushy beard.

"Greetings, Director Trebheart," he said.

"We'll get started shortly with the interview process," I began, "but first, please stare at the ceiling and observe the pattern there for at least half a minute. It is an anchor mark for a memory reset, so we can keep things friendly no matter what happens."

I made to smile at the rigger, but his head was already tilted back. The illumination from the pattern lit up his face.

"Understood," he answered me, with his eyes firmly locked upwards.

I kept silent, and a Nessi-sourced alarm alerted me to the forty second mark.

"That's enough, thank you."

He returned to a more upright position, and gave me a much-bearded nod. The light from the ceiling faded soon after.

"So, Hardpoint," I said, "I want to say first of all that while professional skills are welcome - and yours are very professional, don't doubt that - we are more interested in interpersonal. By that, I mean how well you relate to your teammates, the other staff at UIG, and the various targets and non-targets that you encounter on runs. Can you elaborate on any of those?" My crossed legs shifted on the limo seat as I waited.

"Yes, Director Trebheart," he said, and bowed his head my way. "I can only say that I attempt to be professional at all times - perhaps overly 'by the book.' Other than that, I like a good joke." He quirked his lips in a brief half-smile. "On runs, I've been critiqued about going too quickly for the lethal option, per my past 'zero zero' company experience at MCT. As far as bystanders go, well..." He made side to side motions with his head. "I've been told that I may spend too long trying to set up 'perfect shots.' At no time would such reasonably be composed of civilians."

"Alright, thank you..." I tapped the computer pad in front of me. MCT was the biggest issue here. "We are aware of your upbringing - and family connection - to the MCT megacorp. It has even gone to the degrees of brand loyalty in clothing, weapons, cyberware and drone equipment, as well as a strong preference against effective runs targeting them. How do you plan to work with UIG when there is such a large conflicting allegiance? Myself, and many in UIG, completely understand such feelings as they would apply to your father, who still works there. However, when scaled up to the impersonal nature of a megacorp itself - we're curious. If you could...?"

He visibly hesitated here. "I'd like to... Explore what I mean by that, if I could, Director?" He relaxed and took a deep breath with my nod. "I'll be the first to admit that I am obviously biased towards Mitsuhama, especially as the vision created by it's founder, Taiga "Tiger" Mitsuhama. A man who had the courage to ask others to support him in... My apologies. There is no need for a history lesson." He coughed lightly, embarrassed. "To put it clearer, I attempt to adhere to the core vision and dreams of the founder, as well as pay them back for the life that I was granted there. I'll agree that as a dwarf I was... Discriminated against... But I always had food to eat, shelter, schooling and work. I don't want to take that security - that small, little dream - away from other employees of MCT, no matter how much self-delusion is involved in doing so."

"Very well said, Hardpoint," I said to the rigger. "You are a credit to that vision you talk about."

He lightly flushed and looked away. We both pretended not to notice it.

"Now, I'd like to go through a series of questions," I said. "Please answer them both completely and as compactly as possible. And, for the perfectionist in you, I'd prefer you not try to find the 'best answer' - there isn't one." I smiled at him. "This is, like I said before, more about personality than anything else. Those are the ultimate metrics by which this will be assessed. Understand?"

"Completely, Director." He again bowed his head my way.

...

"You will be supplied an official UIG drone and vehicle. They can be customized within certain internal perimeters. You are free to work on other drones in your own time - such as MCT based ones - but they are not to be used in our sanctioned runs. Such activity would be considered in the realm of hobbies or entertainment. Given your preferences as both a MCT adherent and as a shadowrunning rigger, how does this sit with you?"

"As long as I'm not cut off completely, I'm alright with it."

...

"You are expected to be living on-site at UIG. Alternative, back up addresses and other fall-back locations are fine, and do not have to be disclosed to us - we'd likely know before you tell us, anyways - but the majority of the time would be at UIG. Would you be willing to give up your houseboat as a primary residence?"

"That won't be a problem. It was blown up two days ago."

"Oh. One moment please..."

"It appears to have been some Seoulpa Rings members attempting to frame Yakuza. Pointing the blame at your tertiary associations with them, perhaps. As a courtesy, we will provide a detailed dossier on the situation even if your memory gets reset."

...

"Thoughts on your father being extracted in a friendly manner?"

"I'd rather not. He is stable enough there, and I don't want to risk of ruining any chance of things ever getting good between us by pulling him out of the only life he's lived."

"Understood. We provide free and automatic security for all family, dependents and close friends of employees, so if you join with us and hear of his 'death' via outside sources, please check with us first as it would very likely be not the case."

...

"I can personally guarantee that UIG will be making runs against MCT and Yakuza buildings, personal and organizations in the future. What - exactly - will you be willing to do and not do in regards to those entities?"

"I have no particular fondness for the Yakuza. Whatever the parameters are for the run, I'll adhere to them. As far as MCT goes, I am willing to do extractions, thefts, data thefts and so on. That contrasts with what I am opposed to, which includes large scale destruction and wetwork, and activities that are explicitly designed to cause wage slaves to lose their jobs. I'm much more flexible with managers and execs."

...

"UIG has no objection to your personal branding of MCT, as long as it stays under the armour or clothing we provide. Acceptable?"

"With those terms? Yes, thank you, Director."

...

"The Invisibles are nearly always over-performing stated run objectives. Along those lines, we have several mandates that both benefit us, our allies, and the run employers. They include a near complete preference of massed live captures, very rapid run completion, team splitting for simultaneous strikes, local or international, and the personally chosen and employer requested 'impossible activities.' For instance, one of our operatives replaced the katana, granted to the MCT's CEO via the deceased dragon's will, with an extra large, artificial donkey phallus."

"...Ah?"

"I'll just repeat that one. Most interviewees seem to freeze up there. Did you want to see the trideo first?"

"Hai!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

12:49 PM. Small conference room off of the Invisibles' Waiting Room, Sanctum. Mike/Sanctum's POV.

"You've made an interesting choice, Kellan," I said, as I addressed the blond leader of the Invisibles. She had gone with a business casual look for inside the faculty, wearing tan slacks and a blouse. Her augmented glasses were not in sight, though her ever-present ring-shaped amulet was.

"I think it is for the best, Mr. Umbrella," she responded. She spoke firmly, but not in a tone of defiance. This was something she believed in, to the extent of freeing her prior service-obligated spirits.

What we were both referring to was the spirit Gallowgrey. He was here, the object of our discussion, sitting on one of the chairs beside Kellan. On my side of the desk, were Silla and Jessica. I sat between them on my own chair.

Seeing as how the free spirit was not acting out any violent impulses, I did not object - for now. "Can you please tell me what led up to this... Particular set of circumstances, Kellan?"

"Yes, Mr. Umbrella," she answered. She took a deep breath and began, "It started when you told me the True Name of this spirit, and said that it's fate was in my hands. I had the potential to bind him to an object or myself in servitude. I also had the opportunity to simply talk to him, safely. Find out what Gallowgrey was about - his purpose, meaning, what drives him and so on."

"I found that his main purpose is to protect his 'children' - the corpses of the dead," Kellan continued. "They are currently the bodies in the Hammond Necroplex, but since it has been unofficially taken over by UIG, there is not that much stress for him. Combined with his temporary connection to the 'soul trapping' coin, he was able to come here and explore his potential in branching out to the protection of other bodies, and the retribution towards those that defile them."

I let that sit in my mind for a while. "Alright, thank you Kellan," I said, and glanced at Jess and Silla to see if they had any questions. They didn't. I continued with, "That is your argument. What about you, Gallowgrey? Why are you here, instead of insisting on being returned to the Necroplex?"

The free spirit appeared as a white haired, very old, pale-faced and gaunt man dressed in a black suit. The only notably inhuman features of his were the green glow in his eyes.

"Ms. Colt accurately summarized my motivations, Mr. Umbrella," the spirit said, without visibly moving his mouth. "There were also mentions of sweeping change throughout the world. Change that would reduce - if not eliminate - the desecration of my children. To be a part of it, and free from my original domain, is both liberating and satisfying in ways I can not even imagine. I would be grateful for your acceptance, sir."

Silla cautiously spoke, "We are currently in an alliance with the very ghouls whose desecration of your necroplex triggered your formation and your murderous rage in there. How does that alliance impact your interest in us?"

Good question, I thought. I used the pause to look at Jess. She shook her head in the negative, briefly. Nothing from her right now, then.

His gaunt, white haired head turned towards Silla. "There are many kinds of executions and just punishments. To change their nature to such a degree that they no longer are able or willing to consume my children, is a death of its own. I find that an agreeable substitution," he turned back to me, "Mr. Umbrella. It was implied by Ms. Colt that such was a soon to be completed project. Is that the case?"

"As far as a pilot project goes, yes," I replied. "Those particular ghouls would be the first subjects, but mass roll out to the world at large is dependent on some external situations. I'd imagine it could start in less than six months."

"Thank you for the clarification, Mr. Umbrella," Gallowgrey said. "Has this discussion between us proved receptive to your own interests, sir?"

"Yes, it has, thank you, Gallowgrey." I tapped the desk between us with my fingers. "I'm interested in what you are willing to do, unwilling to do, and what contractual obligations you'd allow on yourself while here."

He nodded at me and silently spoke, "Of course, sir. I am wholly dedicated to any task or service related to the protection of my children and exercising vengeance upon those that defile them and their resting places. I have no desire or interest to do anything else, but believe that my powers in regard to that set of tasks is exemplary." The green glow in his eyes flared for a second. "I am unwilling to be bound in any form of contracts by beings that are not even of my level. My apologies, Mr. Umbrella." He attempted to add sincerity to his words with a deep, slow nod.

I twitched, and looked at Kellan. The young woman of mage shrugged and spread her hands, as if to disavow herself of any fallout that happened. I glanced to my sides. Silla was pointedly reading from her computer pad, while Jess was more honest in her emotional expression. She had her head buried in one of her hands and was groaning quietly. I looked back at the free spirit.

"Gallowgrey," I began, with perhaps an edge of excessive politeness, "what do you see when you look at me?"

"I see the president, CEO and sole shareholder of one of the potentially most powerful corporations in the shadows, Mr. Umbrella."

I nodded, understanding his views - somewhat. "Is that it? Nothing else you can perceive? By me, around me, though me?"

He shook his head. "I could comment on your colourful choice of wardrobe, but I do not think that is what you are referring to, sir."

"You are correct, Gallowgrey." I gave him a thin lipped smile and went through some internal mental and magical gymnastics. "Perhaps you need to check your eyes." I snapped my fingers, and immediately he was wearing a pair of dark, round sunglasses. It played into the sophisticated zombie look very well.

"I am not impressed by... By..." Gallowgrey realized he was speaking normally. His fingers came up to touch his mouth, and he mumbled some words to test it out. He repeated it a few times with and without the dark sunglasses. He stopped experimenting and faced me again. "This is a rather powerful enchanted item, Mr. Umbrella. What are its origins?"

I shrugged, sighed, and said, "I spent some seconds designing it in my head, and a few more to bring it into existence. Do you like the colour? The style? Perhaps I could make you a replacement set? After all, it is such a microscopic use of my power I don't even recognize what drain, if any, it had on myself. Perhaps I could show you something that requires effort on my part?"

He silently looked at everyone in the room. Kellan, Silla, Jess, and myself, where his gaze remained. "I believe you are correct, Mr. Umbrella, I did need to check my eyes. My apologies for the various assumptions on my part. I am willing to discuss... Contractual details... If you are also so interested, sir."

I waved his words away with a free hand, and placed a more genuine smile on my face. I looked at him and said, "Not to worry, Gallowgrey. Sometimes you meet a bigger fish. I'm trying to limit my own exposure, as the fish can get very big indeed." I turned to Silla. "Ready to take over here, director?"

She shot me a brief smile and a quiet spoken acknowledgement. After while she pulled out some folios from beside her and spread them on the table. "Hello, free spirit Gallowgrey. I'm director Silla Trebheart, and these," she tapped the document holders, "are what we need to go over."

I leaned back in my chair, and tuned out the conversation.

A free spirit focused on corpses, a dwarven rigger MCT megacorp sympathizer, and Taylor's mantid reporter, I thought. Three new members. I wonder how they'll handle it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Append to Sanctum's Notepad:

- Blood mages. I don't know if I should hunt them down or continue the psychological terror campaign. What if they get used to it? The thing about escalation is that it requires escalation. I'll ask Nessi and Ziz about it, if needed.

- Put on more pressure for the Renraku Arcology. Unless I was willing to simply drop a pre-formed building or use a high-traffic Portal system, it is my best bet for compact, defensible real estate in the downtown core of the Seattle Metroplex.

- What classes is Ray going to work on? He already has mastered specialities of Fighters, Wizards and Thieves. There has to be some unique ones he'd be interested in.

- Find some people (or beings!) in Sigil that are interested in becoming 'simsense' stars!

- See what adventures Ray comes up with. Maybe another companion? I'm still disinclined to resurrect Ignus, though, even though Ray keeps a 'sample' in his own hammer-space.

2.4 - "Breaking In New Lands"

Friday, October 12th, 2057 (Shadowrun calendar).

"This is DJ Darco Smooth! I want to bid each and every one of my listeners a good and great day! Make sure it is especially fantastic, as today is a full moon. Thats right, folks! Time to bring out the howlers and scream at that glowing, white orb!"

"I have it on good authority that a certain group of Umbrella Corp employees are attempting to claim the oh-so-very haunted Glamis Castle over the course of the night. Please contact your local bookies to place bets for when the screaming will start, and the body parts will come flying out of that accursed place."

"And now, here is the financial news: the Azzies are getting screwed over like the wage-slaves are every single day of their life. All the other corps are cheering with joy, unless they need to put on their sad face for publicity reasons. The Azzies are suspiciously silent on a large number of factors - none of their usual advertising methods seem to be working. The hiring surge for town-criers has jumped tremendously. All the corps opposed to them have no problems what-so-ever in their own advertising efforts. What a lovely little coincidence that is, isn't it, folks?"

"In addition to that, most of the megacorps have, for some strange reason, started to conduct a rather extensive audit of their employees magical abilities. I personally have no idea why such a thing could be, but imagine that any results would be... Bloody magical in their results."

"Most of the various Azzie execs have taken to stimulant cocktails to stay awake for prolonged periods. They sleep in extensively warded rooms, guarded by in-room bodyguards and the best security nuyen can buy. Too bad it doesn't help."

"As I don't have much in particular to talk about, I'll just reveal a bunch of secrets in hopes of stirring up some chaos. Some may be known, some... Not."

"Number one! Mitsuhama Computer Technologies was founded by the assistance of the Yakuza, and a number of them are on the board today! Shocking, I know."

"Number two! Megacorps are actually experimenting with insect spirit hybrids for their own use! Naughty, naughty!"

"Number three! Renraku is developing an artificial intelligence! Here's to hoping it ends up smarter than them! ...It won't be that hard."

"Number four! Lofwyr wears boxers in metahuman form! They are extremely fashionable, and I can not complain about the colour or material choices at all. Most excellent, dragon sir."

"Number five! Buttercup is an awesome free spirit! Just thought you should know that. In case... You didn't. It's a secret, right? Not anymore!"

"Number six! I am not actually wearing any clothes right now! ...That is probably too much information for all of you, right? ...Please don't answer that question, callers."

"Thats it for now. Feel free to speculate on the obvious, blatant and self-evident truth of these statements. I have time for some caller questions, so let me dig up the ones I feel like answering... Da da DAH... Here we go!"

"A caller asks, why do you talk about blood magic? Everybody knows that it doesn't exist."

"Sure, caller. Right you are. Why don't you check Shadowland for a nice, demonstrated, series of articles, pictures and videos of a non-existent act."

"What are those things 'higher on the food chain' than 'Flagons'?"

"Easy answer, but hard to understand. I'm aware of the existence of a being who is capable of... How to put this gently... Consuming and destroying the entire planet in a hour or so? I'd personally rate that being a few steps up from Flagonkind. But maybe I'm kidding. After all, those Flagons know everything, everywhere, from eveywhen, right? Of course they do."

"There seems to be some heavy hitters among my various information sources. There is the Queen of Queens, that Azzie-scaring blood creature, and this Big Eater. I wonder what else will come up."

"I don't feel like doing anything else, so that's it for today."

"To reach me, sing your favourite song to a picture of bacon while speaking into live static, saying my name, DJ Darco Smooth, three times.."

"Next time, I'll figure out what I'm going to say with a combination of truth, humour and pain. I'll end this show with this commercial message: listen to me! Thank you."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Same day. 8:31 AM. Angle Inn, Revel Road, Gynasium District, Guild Hall Ward, Sigil. Raymond's POV.

'On the way back. I managed to obtain some sensory stones with little haggling, and have the still-living body of 'The Scratcher,' serial killer of the Clerk's Ward. I passed on the message to a Garrote representative regarding their organization head, but that might take a while. Ray.' I finished writing and stored both the 'ball-point pen' and the linked journal in my hammer-space. I reclaimed my spoon and finished off the rest of the stew.

"Psst!" Morte whispered to me. "Hey, chief!"

I looked up and saw what drew his attention. We have appeared to have collected a mysterious stranger in the form of a tall, cloaked man. The hood of said cloak was pulled low over his eyes, which hid most of his features. He had looked all around this inn, and seeming to have worked up his courage, he slid into the seat beside me.

Annah's tail pulsed on my thigh, but otherwise she - and everyone else - didn't say anything.

The stranger eyed everyone else before turning to me, and quietly said in low, cultured tones, "I am given to understand you solve problems, for a price. Would that be correct?"

I nodded, silently. I have established a mildly better reputation in these few days than what I had through the combined scars of my past lifetimes. I glance at my wrists where the blackened lines of tattoos came out emphasized that very clearly.

"My problem is this: I feel a deep attraction for a charming lady, and she feels similarly for me. Unfortunately, our respective families have been at war for such a long time, it seems that the feud has lasted nearly as long as the Blood War! I would like you to deliver a message to my beloved, by whatever means, fair or foul. I care not for her family, but only for her. I will reward you most handsomely if you give her my note and return a response to me posthaste. If you do accept, I must insist that you treat the lady with respect and deference, for though she is of a flighty disposition, she is very sensitive."

Seems simple enough, I thought. Must be a catch somewhere.

"Can you answer some questions?" I asked the hooded man. He mumbled something in the affirmative. "How much specific and exact details are you willing to provide us - either before or after we accept this 'little job' of yours?"

"I.. Can't say much, you understand," he replied, and hunched further into his cloak. "it is a matter of safety... Our families, you know."

"Fine, I understand," I said. "How about some general questions, then? You could be sending me off to a lava pit, for all I know."

More mumbling followed, but it was of the slightly agreeable nature.

"Is your charming lady located in Sigil?"

"No."

"Is she on another plane?"

"Yes."

"Do you have a means for transporting us directly to her?"

"Ah... No," he replied, and shook his head. "There are wards set by her family around her house that prevent me from sending you directly to her. It will be some distance away."

"Have you been exchanging letters for some time?"

"Yes," he said, after a period of prolonged hesitation. "Yes, I have."

"And you've also been to her house in person, of course?"

He made some more obviously agreeable sounds.

"I know someone that can help you out much more easily then me, then," I replied. "Perhaps even set up a more efficient means of exchanging letters between you two."

"You... Do not want this task?" He sounded disappointed and surprised.

"It is not that," I answered. "It is just that what could take me hours or days, could likely take a friend of mine minutes."

He began to grumble, when he finally took in sight of my companions. There was a sharp intake of breath with the sight of Fall-from-Grace. "Is your friend equally... Hospitable... To all that travel with you?" He gestured to her, as well as Annah, with a cloak-draped arm.

"Of course," I replied. "They are very welcome there."

The stranger grumbled some more, but finally let out a loud sigh. "Fine," he said. "Lets go see this friend of yours."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

9:44 AM. Side room, Sigil store-front of Sanctum.

"...And that is what he explained to us, Rainbow," I finished, and let out a deep breath. It was just him, the stranger and myself here. I could count the 'stranger' out of the conversation, as Rainbow had paralyzed him shortly after we entered the room and sat down. After being convinced it wouldn't harm the individual, I let it be.

"You've got a great instinct then, Ray," he replied, and looked at the stiffened person. "He's not so much a human or passable alternative as a greater baatezu - or devil, whatever you want to call it, specifically a cornugon."

I let out a small huff of surprise. "What about the devil's story, then?" I asked. "Was it all some elaborate ruse?"

He shook his head and with a smile amusingly said, "That is where it gets delightfully unique. This cornugon, Kas'rarlin, actually did fall in love with a dear lady. However, that dear lady happens to have wings and other demonic features. Specifically, she is a lesser tanar'ri... Demon... Whatever... Succubus. Quite effective at what she does, as well. They have been exchanging letters for centuries, spending the lives of many adventurers in the process." He let out a small laugh. "You can figure out what the two warring families are, I trust?"

I snorted and replied, "Yeah, I think so. That little clue about warring as long as the Blood War itself fits in a lot more aptly now. A devil fell in love with a demon." I shook my own head in disbelief. "Is she using him for something, then?"

He leaned forward. "That's the weirdest thing, Ray. From what I could pick up from Kas here, there was never any sort of demands, requests, or anything else. Just flowery, romantic prose exchanged between the most unlikely pair in the planes." He paused and blinked a few times. "It would make a great movie, actually. Maybe even a mini-series? Multi-season series?"

Rainbow continued to talk to himself quietly while I watched. I really hope he isn't hooked on 'simsense' or whatever the newest entertainment thing is. That reminded me of something. I pulled out two sensory stones from my hammer-space. One was slightly larger than one of my fists, while the other was about the same size.

"Rainbow?"

"Hmm?" He woke up from his own musing and spotted the stones. "You got them! Excellent! Any troubles? No Sensates screaming for your blood or anything?" I replied in the negative, and he nodded in approval. "Very good, thank you." He only examined them briefly before they disappeared. "Blanks as well. Very nice." He settled himself in the chair again and looked straight at me. "As much as I'd like to recommend certain courses of action towards Kas here - I won't. It's your call. I'm just a convenient resource. Remember, when you think of options - THROW OUT whatever you imagine to impossible, and just consider what you want. Just like with a certain shadowy soul." He gave me a grim smile at the end and waited.

"Great then," I replied. "I've got some ideas. First of all, I want to go way closer to his lady's place. Then..."

I continued to explain what I was thinking, and he nodded at each step. When I thought his grin couldn't get any wider, his face started to change shape slightly to accommodate it. At least he changed it back when I pointed it out.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

12:26 PM. Approaching the Keep of the Succubus Chiryn, Plain of the Infinite Portals, First Layer of the Infinite Planes of the Abyss.

I could hear the chattering voice of Morte in the distance. It meant that he was alive, and the guarding forces were still listening to him. Either that or torturing the dear skull, but I sincerely hoped it was the prior.

In the distance lay a foreboding, grim keep. Even from my current vantage point, it seemed a place of pain and punishment. Some more minutes of walking confirmed my first impressions. Thousands of blades jutted out from it's surface at crazy angles, a maze of bloody death. Any who attempted to climb it, or land on the top, would all but flay and impale themselves on it. The few narrow windows might allow flying creatures to enter, but only extremely agile or very small ones.

Rather overdone, I thought. I then had a flashback to the Fortress of Regrets and sighed.

Morte's voice got clearer as as I approached the gate into the courtyard. A small open space, as far as courtyards went. The gate itself appeared as an angry mouth, with an open portcullis hanging above the cavernous entrance. A fierce impression, it would suit a warlord more than a succubus. But then, on the Infinite Planes, anyone who survived ended up being their own kind of warlord.

"...He's coming! You have to show respect or he'll kill you! I'm warning you... I used to have a body! Look at what he did to me!"

There we go.

A balor kept watch at the gate, along with two guardian tanar'ri. They were molydei, each with the heads of both a snake and a dog. The balor stepped towards me, and the two others followed briefly behind.

The true tanari'ri asked furiously, in a deep and gritty voice, "What are you doing here? You are a mortal, and no mortal comes to the tower of the succubus Chiryn. They are brought here to suffer the thousand and one ways of pleasure and pain, before their spirits are released into the Abyss. They never come of their own accord. So. Who sent you, and where can we find them? Speak quickly and pleasingly, and perhaps I will... Spare you." The lightest chuckle accompanied his last words, while his eyes blazed with power and fury. He caressed his barbed whip as though he ached to use it on me.

"Me?" I said, incredulous. "Me mortal, balor? I regret having to not charge you for your education, demon. You may call me DEATH," I pointed a finger at the molydei on my right, and it's heads exploded, one after another, "and AGONY," I presented the open palm of my hand to the other and it was gutted it one stroke, invisibly, from crotch to neck. "Tell me, demon, do you want to know my third name?"

He fell to the ground in supplication, all traces of his prior attitude instantly gone. "Lord master, I know not who I address, only that I am unworthy. Spare me, and I will do anything you ask."

"Stand up, balor." He complied. I paced around him, continuing to speak. "What use could you possibly be to me?"

I stopped a full length away, facing the demon. I had to look up, as he was over twice my height. Size isn't everything, I thought, otherwise Rainbow would win by default.

The whole time he continued to talk about how powerful and mighty he was. His accomplishments, his kills, the trophies he took - everything and anything he could think of.

"Balor!"

He instantly shut up and looked at me, and spoke in his deep voice, "Yes, lord master?"

"I have decided to extend your life by some small measure of time," I said with a sneer, as I stared into his blazing eyes. "I shall now send you to my domain." I dismissively gestured to the air above him. "Rise into the very air above you, and you shall be claimed."

With a few strong strokes of his red, bat-like wings, he rose into the air. A transparent distortion in space passed over him, and he was gone.

Thanks for the assist, Rainbow, I thought, as I gave a salute to the sky. Time to see what this very bladed tower holds. It will be a lot easier to search, now that it was likely cleared of occupants the same way the balor went.

"Did you see his face, chief?" Morte said. "That berk is going to be blubbering till the end of time!"

"Rainbow said he wanted a balor," I replied, with a chuckle. "He didn't say he wanted to keep one, though, so I don't know about the whole 'end of time' comment."

Morte continued to extol the ineptitudes of the demons while I waited for the others. Fall-from-Grace appeared from the sky, a long, spear-like weapon in her hands. Recoilless gauss full-auto sniper rifle with smart aiming options, unlimited range. Annah faded into visibility once her hood was pulled back, and flicked the non-existent traces of the demons off her punch-daggers before storing them into her own hammer-space. Monofilament frictionless vibro-blades, extras included. The cubic Nordom walked up from the very path I came from, his paired blasters clicking away in excitement. I had no idea what was done to those gear-spirits, but they really seem to like Rainbow these days.

I spared a sigh for my own simple high-power revolver, and gestured to the others. We've got an uninhabited tower to examine. Maybe we'd find a magic item or two to show to Rainbow that we could all laugh at.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

12:39 PM. Hastily created impressive room, Sanctum. Mike/Sanctum's POV.

I unfroze them both in an appropriately scenic vista. I had overdone myself on the special effects - we were on a giant, multi-coloured, faceted gem, floating in an apparently ocean-sized pool of glowing purple liquid. The sky was invisible behind the howling tornado that whipped around us. We were directly in the eye of massive twister.

"Greetings, Chiryn and Kas'rarlin." I spoke softly, barely moving my lips. At the same time I ensured that my words were heard as if they were coming from random places all around the pair. "Please, approach. Be seated." I gestured, and two large cushions were created before me. I was seated on my own, larger one.

Neither of them said anything. Any pretense at disguises had been discarded, with Kas' scaly form and Chiryn's demonic succubus features on open display. They both sat in front of me on the cushions indicated.

I turned to the succubus and said with a smile, "Your family knows nothing of your presence here." I turned to the cornugon. "They are probably already cheering your absence. I mildly regret the rather dramatic entrance you both had, but..." I shrugged, and made a 'meh' sound. "Not that much."

They kept silent.

"C'mon now! Speak!" I said to them both. "Or are your wits so addled and ruined that you two are only suitable for carrion feed?"

They glanced at each other quickly, before soundlessly deciding to have the succubus act as a spokesperson. She undulated off of the cushion, and made such a languid movement casual and effortless - as if she was not trying to manipulate me with her presence.

I snorted at the thought, but kept myself from laughing out loud. Barely.

When she knelt into whispering distance beside me, her knees on the ground, she finally spoke. She tilted her head down and looked up at me through her eyelashes.

I continued to prevent my self from laughing. It required a moderate effort to do so.

"My lord," she breathed the words in my direction, "thank you for rescuing me from that accursed tower." She wrapped her arms around her waist, using them to subtly push up her chest. "If it pained you in any way to do so, I will gladly offer... Recompense."

The very last word was spoken into my ears. I couldn't help it anymore, and burst into laughter. Before they could react to it, I snapped my fingers and we all teleported to a more normal room.

Generic brown stone, decent lighting, and a trio of comfortable black leather seats. I sat down in my own seat, still laughing, while those two remained standing.

"Sit, sit," I said, and waved to the seats. "That was just so much fun, but I could not handle the acting. I guess I'm not cut out for that much theatrics."

When they remained standing, I spoke with more emphasis.

"SIT. DOWN." The words echoed in the small room.

They moved rather quickly into the chairs at that point.

"So!" I began with a big smile at them both. "I know all about you two. Your first encounter, the betrayal of your fellows, the start of a forbidden romance, and the series of lovely letters. Letters whose peerless prose is only matched by the blood and deaths of all that delivered them. Is there anything I missed? As a caveat, I will know when you speak anything less than absolute, complete truth."

Right, head-mate?, I spoke into my shared head-space.

Absolutely, Mike-ster!, Nessi replied in kind.

"Lord, I know not -", the succubus began, but I cut her off.

"Actually, no. I'm not amused. Sure, you have this sort of legendary forbidden romance. Great! Good for you!" I gave them a few rounds of barely audible clapping. They looked at each other in concern. "But... Each of you are responsible for legions of murders and damnations. Do you deny this?"

They made various sounds indicating that no, they did not deny that.

"I am not an unnecessarily cruel or vindicative person," I began, speaking in a cloyingly soft tone. "So I am going to offer you a choice of two options. The first one is that I remake your souls, bodies, and very existences into something tolerable and worthwhile. For the second..." I gave them a large grin, and allowed my face, jaws and skull to shift with the action. "Why, I will simply set you free. Right into the homes of your greater siblings. Such freedom I will pair with a declaration of your personal truths to said greater siblings."

I allowed my face to return to normal as I watched them. Only a few short sentences were exchanged between them before the cornugon spoke up. "Lord, I know not what changes you would inflict upon us. Can you possibly tell us what that fate would bring us?"

"Of course, Kas," I replied with a smile. "I will take the claim that the Abyss and the Hells have over your bodies and souls, and transfer it to myself. In addition, I will remake your natures to be not inherently evil, but good, and bereft of your normal forms of harm. On top of that, I will have you both bonded, connected and married in mind, body, and soul - sharing the feelings, emotions, thoughts and physical sensations of each other. You will also be incapable of lying to each other and anyone else, and be bound to my Domain forevermore, never to leave."

"...And what else, lord?" The greater baatezu, Kas'rarlin, asked.

I stroked my chin in contemplation before the idea hit me.

"Ah, yes!" I pointed to the scaly form of Kas'rarlin. "I'll also ensure that you look more aesthetically pleasing. A matching pair, so to say."

"...Would there be anything more than that, lord?" Kas'rarlin continued to inquire.

"Of course," I replied, then hesitated. "You'll... Need to follow my directions, and I own exclusive access to your memories and whatever I want to do to and with the copies of them. You can consider it the... Rent fee."

One pair of shape-shifting, simsense adult actors, coming right up, I thought to myself in surprise. Their locked contract details might be less than ideal, but they have a lot of negativity to work off.

"...Are you sure you're not going to flay the flesh from our bones and consume our souls, lord?" Chiryn asked me.

"Nope," I replied. "Why - did you want that instead? Did I mix up your desires and intentions?"

They made some rather frantic negative noises in response, which I eventually interrupted with, "Alright, fine. You're both going to be here indefinitely, so... Here is the truth."

They looked at me in restrained terror, and huddled together to the extent that they could across their chairs.

"I gain power by completing boons. I literally gain life-force energy by doing services for other people." I shrugged. "I know it's weird, but it has worked nicely for me in the past few years. You two have centuries of longing to be with each other, but never expecting it to be possible. By fulfilling your impossible dreams beyond your wildest expectations, I benefit greatly."

"Are you akin to the genii, lord?" Kas'rarlin asked me, after a period of shocked silence between the two of them.

I replied with a glare, and said with a stony tone, "Do not connect me with those wish granters, Kas. I am in a different league altogether than them." My face relaxed as I looked at them. "Isn't this at all a cause for celebration? Some mild happiness on your part, at least?"

The succubus replied with, "Lord, if you truly benefit from fulfilling boons, I have a number of such I would ask of you."

"Myself as well, lord," the cornugon added.

Hmm, I thought to myself. This could be interesting. I'm glad I get to refuse them, at least. None of that stupid wish granting stuff.

"Fine!" I said. "Just let me tell you how this boon system works first. To begin with..."

...

"Could I have my keep, lord?"

"Sure, hold on..."

"...There you go. ...No, that simply will not do. I'll just touch it up, so that it better suits your upcoming natures."

...

"Lord? Could you... Perhaps... Give me... Two?"

"...Okay."

"Longer... Thicker... Slightly ridged..."

"...I'm stopping now."

...

"Lord, can you make our experiences more pleasurable? Increase our lust for each other?"

"Ah... More?"

"Yesss, loooord."

"Fine."

"...Please don't do that in front of me."

...

The shared sensations ensured that they didn't care who was doing who, what, when or why. Everything they did was enjoyable for both of them.

I left them with a moderate amount of small ring gates, appropriately sized for certain organs and safe for consumption, along with other internal placements. They needed them to be able to get up and move, as they would otherwise be simply stuck together. Forever. Having crazy, incredible sex with each other with no need for sleep, food or breathing. I was invited to their activities, extremely enthusiastically and happily. After the truth effects and all the other changes were put in place.

I didn't run out - I simply made a calculated retreat. One of the worst things about it was how friendly and casual they were about the whole thing. Like the perfect neighbours, if your neighbours wanted you to come over, stop for coffee, and spend some time on the kitchen floor with one or both of them. Or simply watch, while they put on a show.

I mentally cringed, as another cubic kilometer or so of my Domain was changed into an extension of my already massive living flesh caverns. I ignored the activities there, just as I did my first two... Drafted citizens?

Perhaps I could start a magic themed city, I thought. That whole 'City of Tomorrow' never had a chance to reach anything near capacity, and the Three Hundred tend to spend more time in the Shadowrun world than it. I already had some ideas about the place, and I'll keep an eye out for appropriate people, places and things to add to it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

2:24 PM. The 16th Century Chambers, Glamis Castle, Scottish Habitable Zone, United Kingdom. Kia's POV.

"This place looks wizzer!" I said out loud, hands on my hips. There was a mild echo to my voice. The walls and floors were composed of light grey - almost brown - worked stone, and red curtains and drapings hung over and around the many openings. Large displays of medieval armour and weaponry were on display, either free-standing or against one of the many high walls. Those same walls were covered with masses of paintings of landscapes and portraits.

"So wiz you can't help set up the wards?" Winterhawk asked me with a loud sigh.

"Sorry chummer," I replied, and went over to where he was. We were doing a group activity. Specifically, spending the night in one of the most haunted places in the Sixth World - Glamis Castle. Personally, I looked forward to the sleep. The others weren't so casual about the experience.

"No problem, Kia," he answered, "it's just that I couldn't help but look at the amount of people who tried this item on Dunkelzahn's will - and failed. To be more specific, on the full moon of last month, the date of Wednesday, September 12th, an entire mage-based mercenary company attempted this." He went silent.

"And?" I finally asked him. "What happened to them?"

"What do you think happened to them, Kia?" He gestured around himself at the empty castle. "It is still not claimed, and they were never seen again after that fateful night. Let's hope Mr. Umbrella's wards are better, yes?"

I started working just a little bit faster. Winterhawk chuckled at the sight.

2.5 - "It's Not Over Till..."

7:47 PM, Saturday, October 13th, 2057 (Shadowrun calendar). Mock lab setup in Sanctum. Director Silla Trebheart's POV.

"How are you doing there, Mr. Shepherd?" I asked the much modified ghoul. Previously, he required an ongoing effort to keep his posture straight on his bony, lanky form, and disguised his true nature with plastic surgery and cologne. "Feeling alright?" He had just stopped crying tears of joy and relief after examining his improved self with a mirror.

Adam Shepherd, now likely our ally more than ever, opted for a back-to-back sequence of two of our 'experimental treatments.' The first bound the infectious qualities of the ghoul-inducing magical virus into his bone marrow; made him able to metabolize normal protein, though magical qualities were needed with it to get the full beneficial effect; and did a few other drastic changes, such as restore functioning eyes. The second was the 'aesthetic improvement package,' which made a large number of changes to improve the patient's appearance. In this case, he looked like a rather professional middle-aged, blond haired, blue-eyed businessman.

"I am doing exceedingly well, Ms. Trebheart," he said, with only the lightest tint of emotion in his voice. "This... This... Amazing. Yes. Thank you - and Mr. Umbrella - very much. I believe we can work very well together in the future." He smiled at me, then froze as he realized the sensations in the face. A round of joyous tears and exploration of his face with his fingers followed his unfamiliar sensations.

"I'm very glad to hear that, Mr. Shepherd," I said, as I consulted my computer pad. There were some other options I haven't mentioned to him yet. "Did you want to hear about the alternative ghoul treatments?"

"There are more?" He asked me, incredulous. He shook his head in bafflement, and went to sit in the chair opposite me. "Yes, I'd like to hear them, please."

"To go through the full list," I began, "we'd start with your first treatment. Basically, it would get rid of all the negative traits commonly associated with ghouls. Following that, there are three directions we are planning on going. You went the humanizing route, which attempts to improve the physical appearance. The other one, which we are naming 'ghoul power' or some other affirmative title, is for the more traditional ghouls who strongly identify with their acquired 'type.' It emphasizes the warrior like attributes, and turns what was merely repellent into something impressive, scary, fierce, or otherwise rough looking. The third, and so far final option, is for feral ghouls. Through a process of reduction and neural condensation, they are to be physically shrunk in size to that of an infant, and are then further treated with the base formula. From there, they can be raised as a normal child over the course of years, gaining intelligence and hitting all other typical developmental milestones."

Mr. Shepherd kept staring at me in silence.

After about a minute of that, I gently prodded his attention when I softly said, "Sir? Mr. Shepherd? Are you alright?"

"Yes, Ms. Trebheart," he replied, with his eyes focused off in the distance. "I am doing more alright than I have ever been before I was infected. Please tell Mr. Umbrella that I will do my best to bring the other ghouls next week. Also, unless he or some other Umbrella employee tortures a member of my new family in front of me without reason, I will push for as close as an alliance with the UIB as possible." He continued to take deep, long breaths after he finished talking.

"Excellent, thank you, Mr. Shepherd," I said. "I'll make sure that he hears that. We are also donating a series of modular, prefabricated living spaces which will be delivered to your work-site. The exterior of them is designed to blend in with the industrial themes around you, but the interiors are much superior. We hope that you will like them." I gave the 'new ghoul' a small smile.

He laughed again. This time it was free of tears, joyful or otherwise, and sounded incredibly relaxed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

8:54 PM. Sheraton Towers Hotel, Sixth and Pike, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS. Kia's POV.

The less than thrilled guards escorted us from the front door to a private elevator, and from there into a meeting room. They made special care to ensure that we were not seen by any guests or strayed from the path.

At least Ops N helped us bypass their weaponry screening, I thought with a snort.

The other occupants in the room were the fixer that contacted us earlier, Saint James, and a pair of two large bodyguards. Our fixer for today was a tall man, and wore his gray business suit like a generic exec. Perfect for blending into the shadows, figuratively and literally.

"Ah, greetings," he said, as his eyes roamed over us. "My name is Saint James. Please, join me." His hand indicated several synthleather-upholstered executive chairs, which were ringed around a large synthoak meeting table. There were a couple of chairs sized for larger people, but we did not need them.

The scent of coffee drew my eyes off to the side. There was a table with several pots of what appeared to be real coffee. A few of us made attempts to try it, which was halted when complaints about UIB's selection being better were circulated. I carefully masked my own grin in reaction.

"Hardpoint," our new dwarven rigger said, as he started to introduce himself. "I can fix most anything if it's broken, and rig or drive it if it's not."

Kellan, Mutus and myself followed with our own brief introductions. The other members were taking some dedicated time off. This was a test of the real effectiveness of a size reduced, split team. If we had an unlikely need for backup, we'd need to contact UIG directly and request such.

Unlikely, I thought.

Saint James began with an attention-drawing fake cough. We focused on him and he began to speak, "The Mr. Johnson I'm representing wants a small facility in Snohomish destroyed. The means of doing so will be provided upon acceptance. The facility itself is nearly completely automated, and connected to a major corp in Seattle, though not one of the megas." He panned across the four of us, as if inviting questions. We remained silent, and he continued. "While there are guards at the facility, they only have to be neutralized before the building itself is destroyed. They do not need to be dealt with in a more permanent fashion."

[G1-Kellan: I'm taking it. I can imagine some possible frag ups, but we could always tranq everyone if needed., Kellan sent out to the group. Our blond mage leader glanced over all of us before returning to the fixer. He had just finished mentioning our pay.

"Thank you, Saint James," Kellan said. "We'll take it, null sweat. What are the details? The target building?"

An expression of satisfied contentment appeared on the fixer's face, and he began with, "The facility itself is used for drug manufacturing, and is owned by DocWagon. It's automation features are supported by technicians who can also double as guards. The building needs to be completely destroyed, to the degree that any production is impossible without a full reconstruction."

Floor plans, blue prints and other security details popped up in my vision as I requested them from Ops N. I briefly scanned each before sending them to my personal storage.

[G1-Hardpoint: Tranq the guards, drag them away and strafe the site with missiles? We could be back here in under a hour., our rigger sent out. He barely glanced at the other members, as he pretended to focus solely on the fixer and his own coffee. I knew he preferred teas.

[G1-Kia: It's not worth the time savings. There would be inherent complications with doing the run that fast as well - a simple numbers game would show that we'd have to have flown and used that weaponry, all from an invisible craft that did not trigger their anti-air defences., I sent back, and watched him from the corner of my vision.

Hardpoint nodded slightly, a few times, while still staring at Saint James. The fixer had continued to supply Kellan with details as the rigger and myself exchanged our messages.

"Estimated reprisal is expected to be low," Saint James said, "with the understanding that such would be only if you are all acting professional, as expected."

Kellan conveyed her understanding of his preferences with a non-verbal affirmative sound.

"On top of all that, there is a soft time limit of twenty-four hours, and a hard one of forty-eight. Any further questions?"

There were none. Kellan and the rest of us made our farewell gestures, and we headed out.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

10:21 PM. Shadowmech above a DocWagon facility, Snohomish, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

"...And that's it, chummers," Kellan said, as she looked at the rest of us. "We'll be moving out shortly, so if there are any questions, now is the time. Once we drop, it will be the chat system only."

"Kellan?" Hardpoint hailed her. He was seated on the pilot's chair, a new, customized addition, just for him. The dwarven rigger was cradling a drone about the size of his torso, as if it was his most treasured thing in the world.

"Yes, Hardpoint?"

"Are you sure you don't want me active in this run?" He asked. "I'm fine to monitor comms and provide oversight, it just feels like I could do more."

She lightly slapped him on the shoulder and went to the drop cable area. Mutus and myself were already standing there. We smoothly attached the drop-cords to our built-in harnesses and waited. I drew my Ares Predator infinity right afterwards.

"It's wiz, Hardpoint," Kellan said to him with a smile. "This might be the only time we get to show you how we do things without your assistance. As I said, we'll provide running commentary, and I'd like you to chip in with what you'd do in that situation - hopefully faster, more efficient, or more invisible."

"Hai," Hardpoint acknowledged her.

We saluted the somewhat despondent dwarf, and the floor irised open beneath us. Seconds later we were dropping downwards, kept supported by our respective cables. I immediately orientated myself to the rear of the building and entered Time Stop, but not before I heard Mutus' comment about dropping the front yard guard.

Bulldrek, seriously, I thought in wonder.

I cycled through different visual modes, finally settling on plain darkvision once I had sighted the rear, solo patrolling uniform. Three tranqed shots his way for excessive caution, and I Resumed. I smoothly reholstered my weapon.

All three of us reported what we were doing as we continued to fall.

[G1-Hardpoint: I'd paint both guards as targets, marking specific unarmoured areas to shoot. Then I'd plot in a multi-point flight path, and have Shademech execute the maneuver at maximum speed. From the first shot, it would only take a few seconds for my Shademech to down both of them.]

I grinned at his possessive comments. What was originally mild doubt around UIG's vehicle and drone tech had turned into jaw-dropping awe for the rigger very quickly. He quickly lost himself in the various customization and upgrade options. His only real disappointments were the policies around large scale vehicle weapons, as they were only to be used against other vehicles and in other 'high escalation scenarios.'

The three of us were headed to the top of the inner compound's roof. It was plain, flat, and provided no means of entry to the building below it.

We didn't need one, I thought with a grin.

I landed and dropped into a crouch, whereupon I unhooked the safety cables and immediately started to run towards the rear of of the compound. The roof was flat, grey, and otherwise devoid of any mechanical features or entry points. The fence was visible from here, which I gave a quick, zoomed in scan. It was a four-meter high cyclone fence topped with razor wire. Duraplast slats were inserted vertically into the chain links, which boosted the effective durability of the barrier as well as provided a more simple visual barrier.

Upon hitting the roof edge with the edge of my leading shoe, I entered Bullet Time, engaged the sticky-gecko features and allowed momentum to swing me perpendicular to the vertical wall.

My other foot landed firmly on the concrete wall. I Resumed once both feet were right on it, and barely a second later I hopped down the short distance onto the yard of neatly mowed grass. I then jogged over to the fallen guard and began to drag him to the rear-most fence. I passed three ferrocrete platforms on the way, and let go of the uniform. Each of them had a missile launcher, loaded with six anti-air missiles, which I found out from Ops N after I tapped the first one and asked her about it. After tapping the other two, I reclaimed the guard and continued rear-ward.

[G1-Kia: A total of 18 anti-air missiles back here. Be a shame if they were accidentally aimed at the building or something.]

A number of comments along the same line followed, followed by Kellan asking Hardpoint to map out what was required to modify the missile launchers. Further group discussion happened, which I tuned out. It would be one of the last things we did before we left. Other comments happened in the mean time, most significantly a radar dish being tagged in the front area.

I let go of the guard near the rear security station. It could be mistaken for a tool shed, it was so small. It had no windows, merely two out-swinging doors, each secured with maglocks.

I drew my pistol, and tapped the maglock on my side and it flashed to green, silently. I turned the handle open and pulled it out, being sure that I was secure behind the wall. Once it was about half-way open, I hit Bullet Time again and slowly entered the small building, making sure to not impact against the door or doorway as I moved. The guard was already reaching for his Remington seven-fifty sport rifle, and was facing my way when I saw him.

Can't have that, chummer!

I shot his reaching hand and shoulder and Resumed, then immediately holstered my weapon again. [G1-Kia: Cleared the security room. It has missile control here, as well as the output for the cameras., I sent to the group as I looked around. Some more taps and the duty station, building control panel and security monitors were all fully under our control. For the sake of total completion, I also tapped the recharging station for the lawn care drone. It would be stuck beside this small building when it will be erased from the property. I recounted the steps I just took for Hardpoint's sake.

[G1-Hardpoint: I'd use Shademech to enter via the roof hatch and down the guard. Either that, or a small tube of quick-acting knock-out gas. Not your past catalyst based version, just a regular one. It wouldn't be an issue with Ops N controlling security, as he would likely press some emergency features if it was too slow.]

I then grabbed the security monitor guard and pulled him outside. Taking my original guard in my free hand, I began to drag them both to the far corner of the property.

They'd be safe there, I thought, with a laugh. All warm and cuddly, as well.

I started to head back to the main compound. All the windows were painted black and likely armoured. All I'd have to do is wait for Kellan and Mutus, and we'd blitz the place and all the hardware in it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

11:43 PM. Shadowmech, heading away from a DocWagon facility, Snohomish, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

"Saint James? This is Kellan," our mage leader spoke into her mouth microphone headset. "Yes... Yes... No... Everything is already perfectly set up. I just thought that you could give the Mr. Johnson an extra special surprise - we've rigged the explosives to a telecom number. All anyone would have to do is phone it three times in sequence, each time allowing only three rings. We planned on doing it at five to midnight, right before the next shift change. So if you want to take this opportunity, it will need to be done fast."

We kept silent as we watched her. Everybody was seated, with Hardpoint providing piloting. From now on, unless he wasn't available, the rigger would be our pilot. No simple auto-pilot options anymore. The dwarf that sat out this run was absent-mindedly clicking an auto-dialer device he cobbled together. It would do the remote detonation with a single button press. He was aware that Ops N could also have sent the required signals, but being able to build something that contributed to the run made him feel better and didn't harm our bottom line either.

"You want it? Wizzer. Here are the numbers," Kellan continued, then she slowly rattled off a disposable telecom number. They exchanged what sounded like some pleasantries, and she disconnected. "Saint James is really impressed, and expressed such in a doubling of our payout. Let's see what happens."

One of largest display screens inside here switched over to show the DocWagon facility we had just left. The zoom level adjusted so that the entire property was encased in the screen's borders. Less than two minutes later, it lit up with a series of small, bright flashes, and the entire structure collapsed. It wasn't visible from this perspective, but the radar dish, missile launchers, front receiving bay, raw material storage tanks, and even that tiny little security shack - were all erased as well.

I used this free time to check something out. "Hey, Mutus," I said to the blue-banged elven assassin. She looked my way and I continued, "how did you drop that guard so fast when we exited Shadowmech?"

"Sight, Kia," she replied with a smile, and briefly pointed at her eyes. "I dropped upside down and was already aiming at the location of the guard through the vehicle's floor before it opened. The moment the tip of my rifle passed the edge, it was over." She made as if she was thinking very hard. "That would have been about the time your shoes cleared open space, I believe."

I sent some good natured swearing her way, and then started to talk to Hardpoint. He had provided quite a few ways that we'd be able to improve things during a run with him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

12:09 AM. Sunday, October 14th. Private Office, Civic Festhall, Clerk's Ward, Sigil. Raymond's POV.

One of the few Sensates next to the Factol, Bendon Mewl, had summoned myself to appear. Fall-from-Grace was a fellow Sensate, and Annah and Nordom were with us as usual. Bendon's a sharp cutter who made his name as a hirespell in the Outlands before coming to Sigil. He was a tiefling with coal-black eyes and pointed ears.

He waited till we were all inside then shut the door behind us. After he sat down behind his desk, Bendon began to speak. "Here's the chant," he began, "There's this barmy named Eliah wanderin' about in the Hive. He doesn't know it, but he's got the dark of somethin' we want. He holds the key for a portal that's said to lead someplace real interestin'. Can you go have a lookabout for him? You'll be cut in on the profits."

Sure we will, I thought. Right after everyone has gotten a chance to pick over the good pieces. I conveyed that response with a raised eyebrow and a flat-faced, unblinking stare.

He lasted less than a minute before cracking. "Fine then!" He said with a huff. "Here's the dark of it. Another Sensate found some references to a portal leadin' to," he leaned forward towards us, "the Isle of Black Trees," he stage whispered, then leaned back and continued. "It's supposed to be a legendary demiplane created by some prime wizard or another. Eliah's supposed to have the dark of it, and his reappearance suggests that he may know somethin.' For yeh troubles, I pass you two hundred gold pieces. That nice jink will be followed by a chance to be in on the search party that explores the Isle. Sounds good?"

I held out my hand to Bendon, "Make that chance to explore that Isle a sure thing, and I'll care not about the gold."

He shook mine and said, "I'll put in a good word to the factol, that's my chant."

It will have to do, I thought.

"Now then, Eliath is a short, wiry fellow who's missed a few meals too many," Bendon said with a sigh, relieved at my acceptance. "Last I heard, he was wearin' his tattered blue wizard's robes. His hair's white, and he squints 'cause he's nearsighted."

With some pleasantries exchanged between us, we left his office. I pulled the group over to the side before we left the Festhall proper. Not spotting anyone, I brought out my linked journal and a pen. Angling it so that the others could read it, I started to write. 'Rainbow: we're doing a job for the Sensates. Something that will end up with the details of the Isle of Black Trees demiplane. Know anything about it? -Raymond.'

I kept flicking it into and out of my hammer-space as I waited. His response was, 'Ray: Been there, sacked that. Just a massive pile of gold, treasures and low level artifacts. It was barely worth my time. Thanks for the update, appreciated! -Rainbow.'

We all laughed for a while, not caring about the strange looks we were getting.

"How about we keep this simple?" I asked them. "He's a barmy, so we'll ask the Bleak Cabal. Where are they again, Annah?" I asked my favourite tiefling, and put a hand on her hip.

She used the opportunity to slide her tail around my thigh and squeezed it a few times before replying. "I hafta say that they would be at the Gatehouse," she replied. "I donnae think they would make a quick job of anythin', though."

"You're right," I said. "We better get going, then."

We started to head towards the main exit when Morte chipped in. "Hey chief - if you want to know about the barmies, you can't beat the Chaosmen themselves. Might have more of a fun time with them, too!"

I turned to Annah and asked her, "You know the Hives better than any of us. What is closer? The Bleakers or the Xaositects?"

"I'll sort it out on the way, but I think the Chaosmen are all over," she replied, and shrugged. "Much quicker, moreso if we catch 'em before reachin' the Gatehouse." Annah glanced at Morte. "Yeh gettin' a bit less useless, skull. Keep it up."

He chattered his teeth at her, but otherwise didn't say anything. The proper motivation can do wonders for people, though I still haven't heard what Fall-from-Grace got from Rainbow.

There were no other major interruptions before we left the Festhall.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

9:42 AM. The Hive, Sigil.

After a short stop-over to rest and refresh at Rainbow's place, we headed to the Hive sprawl.

It surrounded us in a gray warren of run-down buildings, filthy streets, and desperate people. The unwelcome cold drizzle wet my uncovered head and hands, but I thanked the excessively enchanted mithril armour I wore for being comfortable otherwise. I brushed some wetness off of Annah's hair, and she cussed me out for it - but she let me do it for a few seconds longer than the previous time. She had stopped wringing her hair after the first time, as well. I grinned at her and she pushed me.

Slow progress, I thought. Slow and steady.

Another scan around us revealed that the light rain had driven many under what shelters they could find. The various buildings, likely all condemned to fall apart, glowed with the red light of cooking fires. Haggard faces peered at us from nearly every window. This place would have been an utter maze without Annah.

As I watched the main road, a Harmonium patrol tromped past, nervous and on guard. They kept their weapons handy, and maintained a constant watch on any alley they approached. Beggars, bubbers and everyone else cleared quickly out from the patrol's path.

Annah motioned us forward, and we continued further into the Hive.

...

As we passed through a dark, winding alley strewn with garbage, I heard the sound of footsteps behind. When I turned around, I saw a small band of bashers that had emerged from a dark doorway. Nordom's blasters were clicking madly, and I could tell we close to a bloodbath. The bashers were dressed in ill-fitting tatters and seemed down on their luck. The lowest sort of mercenaries, basically. Back at the front, a pair of cutters wearing Chaos insignias appeared, who then blocked the alley.

One of them was a burly basher with a huge two-handed sword, and the other looked like a priest. The swordsman called out to us, "Easy way or hard, choice yours it is. Weapons drop! Best is surrender. Collectors you'll meet otherwise, two smiles you'll have. Berks!"

You have got to be kidding me, I thought.

In answer, I held up my right hand and slowly made a fist. Right afterwards, I punched the alley wall as hard and fast as I could. My fist went through the thin stone, and I jerked it back out with a wet, tearing sound. I then held up my bloody hand, whose drops of blood slowed as it healed.

Silence followed my demonstration.

The fine art of diplomacy wins again, I thought. Those berks probably aren't even grateful we've just saved their lives.

The swordsman spoke cautiously, "Sharp you bloods, not are bad. Where did you, who say you?"

I have no idea how Morte could think that these berks are amusing.

The conversation that followed gave only two sentences worth remembering. The first was his intentions, 'Barmies lost someone's making. To find out why and who I am. When thrashed every berk have I in hive, the cutter I seek thrashed I'll have too.' The second related to the object of our search, 'Barmies keep track so who does? Book in the Dead put they've lots lately. Look sod Mortuary your poor Eliath in, maybe.'

The bashers and Chaosmen disappeared, and we were left alone in that tiny alley again.

"This is proving to be longer than expected," I said, as I admired my healed hand. "It seems like a lot of barmies are disappearing. We might as well check with the Gatehouse while we're in the Hive. Any objections?"

"Nordom and blasters wish to go in search for trouble!" The rogue modron said. Everyone else was quiet.

"Noted," I replied. "Though as that isn't an objection, let's head out."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

1:26 PM. The Gatehouse, The Hive, Sigil.

After we passed through the line of desperate people that queued up before the doors of the Gatehouse, we managed to reach someone that was willing to take the time to talk to us.

"...And the name of the barmy is Eliath," I said. "We've also heard that more barmies may have been going into the Mortuately lately than usual. Do you know anything about that, Derioch?"

The gaunt woman dressed in wizard robes peered at me and said, "We keep records of every sod who loses his mind in the Cage. Give me a day, and I'll see if we know of Eliath. In return for our help, we want you to watch for anyone unusual in the Hive. I'll be in this Gatehouse at nightfall every night. If you see anything worth passing on, meet me here."

"That sounds fair," I replied. "What about the Cabal? Has it found any leads I can start with?"

Derioch made some defensive statements about her Faction, but the end result was nothing. They knew about the same we did, even if they figured it out earlier. I thanked her for her time, and she left to pursue her own interests.

Since we were already at a tavern of sorts, we had a late lunch. Simple gruel and watered down ale. As much as I wanted to use the magnificent mansion, I didn't want to completely spoil myself or the others. After we had our fill, I dropped off enough to cover the costs and qualify as a generous donation.

I beckoned Annah into the lead again, and we headed into the Hive once more.

"Get yer eyes off my arse!" She said while flicking her tail.

Not happening, I thought, with a smile.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

3:35 PM. The Hive, Sigil.

After wading through what seemed like oceans of beggars, bubbers and berks, we finally came across something of note. The last corner we turned past had us come upon a group of six ragged men, dressed in the discarded clothes of wealthy folk. Those tattered clothes were somber black, and they seemed to carry themselves with a strange charade of dignity.

Ah, Collectors, I thought. I probably spent far too long with them over the years.

They were standing around the form of a bubber lying in the gutter. One of them nudged the grounded fellow with his foot. "If he ain't dead, he's close enough," he said. "I say we collect 'im." Several of the men solemnly began to loot the body, while another opened a dusty book and began to read out loud. He intoned, "O whatever power this poor sod worship'd, look kindly upon the departed spirit of - anyone know this sod's name? - oh, well, the departed spirit o' your servant. ...Hey, is that a gold tooth he's got?"

"Hey, bashers," I walked up to the group, with the others spread around. They eyed us warily, but continued to work on the corpse. "What's the chant with the bubber here?" I asked, indicating the body.

"This bubber got lost," one said. "Aye," another added, "and then we found 'em!"

"Any signs of how the sod got lost?"

They made some general remarks about having no idea. Quite an unusually large number of bubbers and barmies have been dying off lately, none of them with a single mark. "It's like they fall asleep and don't wake up," a Collector said. "Very peaceful and such." There were no visible wounds on the body, or blood, seepage or any other signs of post-death activities.

"Oi! Collectors!" I flicked some silver coins between my hands. It got their attention rather fast. "You can get back to the poor sod in a bit, but right now I'd like your full attention." I arrayed the coins so that one was between each of my knuckles and showed it to them. "A fair trade?"

They hesitantly parted from the bubber and crowded around me. I flicked a coin to each of them. "I'm looking for a barmy by the name of Eliath. He's supposed to be a short, wiry fellow with white hair and a constant squint. He wore some ragged blue wizard clothes." I didn't say anything else, but kept a gold coin rolling across my knuckles.

Almost all of them watched it, as if hypnotized. "I'm Tom, cutter," one of the healthier looking Collectors said. "We picked up a sod like that a while back, and took 'im to the Mortuary. Sorry to hear you were lookin' for him. If the Dustmen remember where they put' im, you can always try magic to get ahold of 'is spirit."

True, I thought. I thanked him with the flicked gold coin.

"Another round of silver jink for you all once I take a good look at the bubber here, alright?" I asked them. There was some half-hearted grumbles, but it faded when I flashed another series of silver coins at them.

I gestured everyone to surround the body and looked at it. It was remarkably clean for a corpse. None of that normal bowel loosening or other activity. I confirmed my suspicions with a quick use of a pair of glasses - death watch trumped feign death by a long shot.

"Anybody have an idea why somebody is casting feign death on bubbers and barmies?" I asked them. "They just go to get turned into zombies or something."

"Ah, chief," Morte began, "what if it is some sort of horrific ritual from a sadistic death god that gains energy from their conversion into zombies? Like long, agonizing sacrifices?"

I stared at him in silence. "I'll consider that the worst case scenario," I eventually said. "The horrible thing about that, is it would actually make sense. Anything else?"

"Some ghouls want a really fresh feast, may'haps?" Annah asked, sounding sickened by her own idea. I suppose we could ask the peaceful undead in the Necropolis below, but again - that would be something to try later.

"Can anybody think of a reason that is not absolutely horrible?" I stared at them all in sequence. Nothing came up. I sighed, and said, "Fall-from-Grace? Do you have status? I'd like you to cast it on the bubber here and... Annah." I looked at the tailed tiefling as I said her name. It was a touch based spell, after all, and those two have never exactly been friendly with each other.

She made a face like she swallowed something horrible and said, "If I feel yeh goin' for me neck, I'll gut yeh, understan'?" Annah then looked away, and shoved her arm in the direction of the succubus.

Our priest went through some gestures and words, and touched both Annah and the body. The tiefling shuddered with the contact and made a gagging noise, but did not say anything otherwise.

We left the living body of the bubber and backed up a ways off.

"Annah, I've got a big role for you to help us solve this little mystery," I said to her. She nodded, equally serious, and I started to explain a plan. She was sent off with a prolonged kiss and well wishes. I imagined her tail indicated happiness, but I couldn't be sure.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

4:51 PM. The Hive, Sigil.

We encountered another barmy that was hit with the feign death spell. This time we almost caught the people that did it in the act, as one minute he was chanting the names of Abyssal powers, and the next, he had shouted in panic. When he arrived, he had already collapsed. We passed on casting another status spell and left.

...

As we continued to head out of the Hive, we once more got exceedingly lucky. Some berks all but jumped out at us, weapons at the ready. I wasn't able to caution Nordom, so they were all butchered in mere seconds. Thankfully, they were next to another non-dead bubber. I collected a significant bloody piece from each of them, as nothing as complete as their head remained.

I'll have some serious words with Rainbow about his weapons of mass destruction, I thought. Right after he resurrects these people and we find out what is really going on.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

10:21 PM. Sigil Waiting Room, Sanctum. Mike/Sanctum's POV.

Everyone was working on a small feast while Annah talked about what she found at the Mortuary. "Some addle-coved berk named Toranna looks like a Dustie that turned stag on them. She's the only one that checks out the barmies, with every one gettin' marked with somethin' behind their ears. The incomin' deader book proves the dark of it." Annah speared a small slab of meat and cheese and ate it before she continued. "Her room had nothin' in it of note except some red beads." She fished one out of her hammer-space and held it up, then placed it on the table for us to inspect further. "When Totanna worked in the room up top of the Mortuary, all the deaders were tossed into fire and disappeared."

"Is that enough hints, Ray?" I asked the sighing man. "I already told you what mister chunky corpse bits is all about, so..."

He dismissed my inquiry with a wave and said, "I'll explain it, Rainbow." He finished a small, red fruit from his plate and wiped his hands on a cloth napkin. "What we have here, is a genuine, mucked up conspiracy. There was a half-elf who cast feign death on barmies and bubbers, who Nordom helped go to a much more realistic end..."

"Query: Have these ones blasted in error?" The rogue modron asked.

"No, don't worry about it," Ray replied. "That half-elf went by the name of the Shadowknave, and was Marvent the Green's best recruit. Marvent's plan involves taking those barmies, making them sane, and sending them back to rise in the ranks of the Factions. He is the leader of the Illuminated, a mercenary group that is based out of Plague-Mort. Toranna is also in on the plan."

"Chief," Morte began, "That has to be so much incredibly better than some dark sadistic god feeding on living, helpless sacrifices." The skull turned to the tiefling. "Or, for that matter, becoming fresh ghoul chow."

I echoed an agreement to that with all the others.

...

Disposable time-line.

"Sorry about the late hour, all of you, but I'd really prefer if a covert mission headed to the Mortuary right now." I told them all in complete seriousness. "We should nab Toranna and have her brought back, while Ray stays behind there to confirm that that fiery place really is a portal and how to use it. I can also relate to him anything I find from her via the journals." I smiled at them. "It should take less than a few hours, and you can rest up here afterwards. I'll even supply some interesting potions for yourself and that faction traitor Toranna."

"Right away, Rainbow?"

I nodded at the question. "If she does regular check-ins with that Shadowknave character, she could sense the threat in the air and leave. Might as well get it over with, right?"

...

Main time-line.

"You've all had a long day," I've said to the group of them. "Why don't you refresh yourselves and have a short nap? You shouldn't wait too long, especially if that Toranna character gets rattled and flees when she can't reach the Shadowknave."

"You don't think we should go there right after we eat, Rainbow?" Ray asked me.

"I've got a fantastic source of info coming, Ray," I said to him with a smile and a shoulder tap. "It should make the next steps easier. Besides, I can already direct you all to the Plane of Fire if things get messed up at the Mortuary."

He shrugged in agreement and continued to eat. I joined in for a few bites myself.

Nothing is going to happen to you, Ray, I thought. Not if I could help it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

7:13 AM. Monday, October 15th. Ground Floor, Mortuary, The Hive, Sigil. Raymond's POV.

My head was bowed towards the stone sarcophagus that lay before me.

Deionarra, I thought to myself, I can only hope that you are in a better place now. Whatever you have foreseen may have come to pass - or maybe Rainbow Umbrella screwed it up from the Celestial Realms all the way to the Infinite Layers of the Abyss. The flashes of memory I allowed myself to keep in general use are of your kindness, efforts and all that you did in life and past in. I'm doing my best to balance the darkness I generated in my many lives.

A small tug on one of my mithril scale armour's sleeves revealed the nearly perfectly solid black tracery of writing. I let it fall back into place.

It will likely take a very long time, but... I have that time now. I would not have, if things went as expected. If you played any part in that, however small, I truly do thank you and can honestly say that I love that kindness, even if my past, manipulative self did only keep you around for what he could get. I let out a slow sigh. I still wear your ring, in memory. It might be replaced with another at some point - perhaps a rougher cut of stone, so to say - but... I will remember you. The old circle has come to a close, and a rainbow coloured oddity has replaced it. Farewell, Deionarra. Be at peace.

As I turned away from the sarcophagus, I imagined that I heard her ghostly voice once more, carried by the wind. Nothing was there when I looked back.

I took in the faces of my team - my comrades - my friends. Morte, Annah, Fall-from-Grace, Nordom. Annah already qualified as much more than that, and we'll see how much farther that goes.

"Bloods," I began, "We know the portal's location and destination. The floor layout. The guards. The traps. The number of stone blocks used to build the place. We could likely clear out that Citadel of Fire blindfolded. But I'd rather not, as it would be kind of slow." I laughed, and so did Morte. "Let's just go in, empty the place out, dump the prisoners and guards for Rainbow and be back in time for lunch. Sounds good?"

Voices of agreement followed, and I passed out the potions mister colourful himself had given me. With a toast to the others, I quaffed mine. I immediately turned invisible, and noticed a non-stop series of boosts, benefits and bonuses streaming in, on and around me.

Rainbow, I thought, you seriously need to reduce the power of these things. I could probably clear out the entire Citadel by punching every guard out. I paused, then thought to myself, why not?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

9:27 AM. Thursday, October 18th. The Isle of Black Trees, Demiplane.

The sounds of loud singing and dancing greeted the Sensate expedition party we had joined in to. As we passed the towering black trees, the path narrowed from the width of a mansion to something more suitable for a single, horse-drawn wagon. When we reached the center clearing, the sources of the noises were revealed.

Rainbow, I thought, I have no idea where you get the inspiration for these things.

There, in front of an appreciative audience of Sensates, was an entire miniature city of tiny, little automations. The automations, along with the city itself, were composed of precious metals and stones. Every single one of the little creatures were singing and dancing. The city itself was a like a giant musical instrument, which provided accompaniment to their acts.

Once the very first automation spotted one of us, silence rippled outward. They then began singing an increasing series of high pitched tones. Once it reached beyond the range I could hear, things started to break apart. The city started to disintegrate and the creatures fell down into pieces. Only a small number of automations escaped, and they changed as they walked towards us. Every single person here was greeted by a tiny little duplicate of themselves as everything else dissolved, melted and appeared to sink away into nothingness.

A perfect Sensate end, I thought. A truly unique experience, followed by a once-in-a-lifetime memento.

I picked up the 'little Raymond.' It gripped my armoured sleeve and tried to chew on it, ineffectively. I watched it gnaw on the mithril, amused, until a single, loud tone drew everyone's attention back to the clearing center. There, in place of the city and all the past automations, was what appeared to be a human-sized creation. Instead of the simple designs of the smaller creatures, it was modeled after a normal human woman, if large.

After a few more attention getting tones, the fat lady began to sing.

2.6 - "The Art and Science of Betrayal"

Sunday, October 21st, 2057 (Shadowrun calendar).

"This is DJ Darco Smooth! I'm not feeling especially great today, so I might do a miserable job of faking it. With that said, welcome and be happy, to my particular blend of non-misinformed balderdash, folks! I hope every one of you is having a nice time right now, because I'm feeling especially unoriginal. Yes!"

"So the plan is to rehash things and make bad jokes for a few minutes before calling it quits. Let's see what I can dig up."

"Anti-Flatlining Devices! Deckers love them, but I'm sure their credsticks don't. For those of you buried under a rock, AFDs do exactly what their name suggests - instead of a decker getting fried by black ice, this little device does instead. What that means is that any serious decker that encounters black ice on a regular basis requires a constant supply of them. There is currently only one supplier worldwide, Mary Falls, Inc., of Seattle, and they are enjoying maximum production capacity, non-stop. Nearly available everywhere, they sell out almost the instant they are put on their virtual shelves. Or, in the case of theft, even before then."

"The ever-hated and ever-loved Aztechnology still is unable to put up a simple public service announcement about not practicing blood magic. Nearly every other corp is doing such, and most of them are correct! Great job!"

"Now, to those suffering Aztec execs: help is out there. Shadowrunners, special agents, and other services that can protect you from this shit storm. To put it bluntly: you will NOT be able to fix this on your own, and will only doom yourself by trying. Have fun with that."

"On the topic of suffering corps, Renraku is having a horrible time as well. That arcology in the downtown of the Seattle Metroplex seems to be either a great opportunity or a horrible, disgusting mess depending on who you talk to. All the top complaint submissions were so utterly filthy and disgusting I puked up in my mouth a little. Seriously. They were nasty. For their creative thinking, all the other Red Samurai armour got sent out. The only one that remains is a suit that will fit me if I lose fifty pounds and gain a foot and a half in height."

"Renraku stocks are dropping, along with shareholder confidence. Local corp technicians keep on reporting that they can find the source. Good luck to them."

"The Umbrella Import Group has successfully claimed Glamis Castle in the Scotland Habitable Zone in the United Kingdom. My mind is blown. I think I lost about a thousand nuyen on that or something. Which I don't have. Dammit. Anyways, they didn't stay still, but instead immediately hoisted an 'umbrella' mana shield around the entire property. Breaching the level one, revealed a level two, which then revealed a level three and so on. While the totally-not-government agents were poking at it, UIG thanked the Lord Protector for granting extraterritorial status to the Glamis Castle and associated properties. All digital and - get this! - hard copy archived documents were filed, sealed and stamped, with the Lord Protector's insignia."

"Isn't it great to see governments and corporations working together to benefit corporations? Just like the rest of the world? Indeed, folks, indeed."

"Now, questions from callers I'm mildly interested in answering."

"What is the keep-awake cocktail used by the Azzie execs?"

"Answer: blood magic. Seriously? I have no idea. If you were to ask them, you'd likely get gunned down too, so I don't recommend it."

"Where can I find that trideo clip of Lofwyr sneering into his mirror wearing nothing but his boxers?"

"Titled 'Saeder-Krupp - We know what you want!', with the sub-title of 'We will give it to you hard, all night long!', it should be copied into most bootleg trideo and BTL chips internationally. Just check the SK node for the data. And Lofwyr? If you are listening, you literally have over ten thousand screaming raving fans who... *Ahem*... Want to greatly improve metahuman-dragon relations in the closest way possible. Make love, not corp war!"

"Speaking of underwear, quite a large number - and I'm not saying how many - wanted to know the colour of Buttercup's pantsu. They might have had too many fantasies from the times she dressed up as a Japanese schoolgirl and sat in on board meetings. Without going into details, I'll skip this one until I can get a pledged amount of half a million nuyen. Then I will give such money to Buttercup for the express purpose of hiring mass murderers to kill you all. Or a professional photo shoot where she can wear whatever she wants. Her choice."

"Another caller phoned in and said something like 'who is this Big Eater character? My pants are getting wet in terror and it is rather cold outside. I'm hungry, where is the Stuffer Shack? Who am I? Is this phone tasty? Dingle boo?"

"Yes... Okay. I'll just say that in the case of weapons - and acts! - of mass destruction, it is best to go to a high standing place so that you get killed quickly. Otherwise, it would be like getting eaten by an Awakened creature feet first. Remember, head first means quicker release from the pain! ...Now if only there was the sweet release for me..."

"My apologies, I shouldn't talk about my solitary love life on here."

"Next! A huge barrage of people asked me about what is this 'Shadowland' thing, while a smaller, but more amusing, number sent various threats and so on for me to NOT talk about it."

"The truth is, Shadowland is supposed to be some sort of secret hacker-decker-cracker-snacker-packer haven type of a thing. I forgot about that because it was so easy for me to get into. My boss just gave me a new terminal and he was all like 'press this button to access this amusing place called Shadowland. Don't forget to edit in typos of the people that comment. It will drive them mad.' So I regularly go in and check for news, and sometimes add in an extra letter or word or delete a sentence. They go CRAZY when they can't figure it out! I've got to get my jollies somehow. Sorry FastJack! I like your grammar, I really do!"

"Next! Where are insect spirits? I want to go kill some. Please tell."

"That lucky caller got directed to his local hive. The last I heard of him, he was still buzzing around in his new form. Insects spirits are continuing to consume the souls of the living and breed in most major cities except the Seattle Metroplex. Great job, alien minded infestations. Sucky job, insect spirit hunters."

"Some band called the Shadows are coming to Seattle. Or are already here. They might be playing some time, too. Some people like them. I'm more old fashioned."

"That's it for now, folks."

"To reach me, bang two stones together in a rhythm while speaking into live static, saying my name, DJ Darco Smooth, three times."

"Next time, I still won't know what to do with my combination of truth, humour and pain. And remember, folks - there is always someone higher up the food chain."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

9:47 AM, Same day. Luxury tank in the UIB garage, Sanctum. Mike/Sanctum's POV.

"It's been a long month, Art," I said to Art Dankwalther, version two. Gone was his old self, and in was a Japanese man based on some top model qualities. With his complete DNA rewrite and continuously maintained SIN, he could succeed with most anything. We could also make him disappear, but I wasn't willing to consider that option.

"Yes it has, Rainbow," he rumbled smoothly. He also obtained some voice upgrades, which included high singing potential. There was a slight Japanese accent added to it. Amazing, really. I didn't even know we could add accents.

"So." I smiled at him. "Are we just a bunch of fly-by-night garbage peddlers, or what?" He laughed lightly and I echoed it. "Seriously, though. It's been one month. We're back here for the sake of a memory reset if needed. You'd have cash and a new, fully supported and long-lived, healthy body. You'd be your own boss - maybe even start your own business, or just go wild in the party scene. Here, though... You'd be an employee, even though it would be at the highest tier."

"True," he replied. "Though there are still quite a number of mysteries here. Living with the Three Hundred was a very different experience than my corp life at Fuchi. They had to be the most relaxed elite special forces outfit I ever encountered." He let out a half-laugh. "And the only one, too. I still want to know that same question from back then - why me? You said 'potential,' but any sort of buzz word can be filled into it's place without effort."

I looked at Art. His perfectly styled black hair and appearance almost completely overshadowed his background and education. It could be the male equivalent of spotting a blond and making some assumptions about her intelligence. Then the very blond Silla Trebheart comes along, and blows those assumptions out of the water.

I pulled a small dropper capsule out of an inner jacket pocket and showed it to him. "Thirty minutes," I said. "Gone with this being drunk. This would apply even if you joined us. One of things I - and some others - have to do is gauge how far people can be not so much simply trusted, but whether they can even handle the various secrets and aspects of what the Umbrella Import Group is. If you want the real answers that badly," I flicked it with a fingernail, "you going to need to agree to this as an option, at the minimum."

His brown eyes checked out the dropper. "How would this work, then?"

"Simple," I replied. "If you agree to this, I'll have a pattern played on the roof of the limo tank here. Focus on it for about a minute, and it will be your memory reset anchor. Then, for the next twenty five minutes or so, ask whatever you want. I'll say as close to my personal, absolute truth as possible, with the exception of those few things I don't even say out loud any more."

Art stayed silent, thinking. "I'll do it," he said. "Please start it. Sir."

I flashed him a smile at the formality. With a request passed to Nessi, the roof light pattern lit up and Art tilted his head back. At the silent count of sixty, I said, "That's a minute, then, Art. Fire away your questions."

...

"Are you a dragon?"

"No... But I could turn into one if I felt like it. And no, I don't feel like it. Besides, its rather small in here."

"Who are you, really?"

"Rainbow Umbrella is something I picked for myself. I have two other single names I use with close friends, but I don't remember my original ones."

"What are you, then?"

"A sapient demiplane that grows and gains life energy from the completion of other sapient entities' boons, requests and wishes. Yes. Really. And no, I am not a genie."

"Where did you come from?"

"A different multiverse. My original one is not yet accessible, as far as I know. I'm aware of two other complete multiverses at this time. There are likely more, and some of them would hold beings more powerful and destructively minded than I could ever be."

"What are those other multiverses like?"

"Of the two, one has no magic, but instead relies on extra-dimensional manipulation at it's highest level. The other is so highly magical that incarnated gods exist and it is possible to physically travel to heavens and hells."

"What is the basis of 'The Catalogue'?"

"Limitless sub-atomic duplication of material, with the energy supplies to do such. The ability to scan and record material at that level of precision. A mindset that says duplication and copyright violation is not theft. A sense of humour."

"What are your end-goals for the UIG?"

"To slowly convert this world into a place of prosperity, health and wellness, spread across all the involved lifeforms and the environment. At the same time, pass on as much responsibility and choice to the native population. I don't want to handle administration or management throughout my immortality. As the whole world might take a while, we're working on the Seattle Metroplex first. Maybe Paris and the the Cayman Islands in the Caribbean League as well. I'm iffy on it."

"What would be what you consider the most disturbing things I don't yet know?"

"Hmm... Tough one. If you know about the Queen of Queens, she is one of my very significant others. In that role, she has drafted and converted some mantids on this planet to be more human. I think... You slept with a few of them, too. What else... I have made my own afterlife... I could destroy this planet very easily... I've had hundreds of thousands of people killed in order to save billions, and then resurrected billions afterwards. ...One of my alternate forms can drive most living beings into an insanity-based death... What else..."

"Will those mantids go all... Insect-y on me?"

"Nope! Much like nuclear launch codes, they need permission from the Queen of Queens."

"What is your connection to DJ Darco Smooth?"

"He is a past personal associate of mine from the first of the two multiverses I visited. He acted as a radio DJ there, and is doing so again here. Nobody is able to find him because of his transmission methods and the fact that he isn't even in this universe."

"Are you the 'Big Eater' he mentioned?"

"I could do that, yes. But I have yet to ever find a logical reason, or enough of an emotional outrage to do that to an inhabited planet. It would not be 'eating' so much as destruction. My sole energy gains come from boon completion. Even eating regular meals is more of a recreational and social thing than for sustenance."

"Who or what is the 'white angel'?"

"Wow... I'm surprised you remember that. She is a personal Guardian of myself, a treasured significant other, and a mind-bogglingly powerful precognitive and telekinetic. She tells the future as well as makes it. She is the likely the only person who could tell me, after I just went through agonizing hell, that it was needed because without it, things would be worse."

"Are the Three Hundred actually humans, or...?"

"Yes, they were born human. They have only gone through some substantial upgrades, and tied their souls to me. It allows easier resurrecting of them, and prevents other... Dangers. Like the soul-eating beings and comparable horrors from getting a firm grasp into them."

"How does someone tie their soul to you?"

"In this case, I mean more my Domain then this body here. So when they die outside of the Domain, their soul would come to the afterlife here. If they died here for some reason, they'd automatically resurrect in about a day. Resurrections are included as an employee perk as well."

"What is your afterlife like?"

"I haven't worked on it much. It sort of turns a person's spirit into a book, and they stay there, in a kind of stasis-like sleep. I keep on planning to add features, but... Busy busy!"

"Who are Nessi and the Number Man? I've only talked to them over the telecom."

"Nessi is another of my most treasured significant others, and an Artificial Intelligence who is so... So everything? Yes. Lots of everything, lots of it. The Number Man was my accountant in the first multiverse I ended up in, where he managed most of the world's finances. Here, he plays second to Nessi, but can occasionally provide inspiration. If you accept a position with UIG, they would continue to be work closely with you."

"What would be the criteria to determine whether or not I could handle these answers?"

"Two main, major factors. The first one is literally that - can you handle that your boss is someone that has made his own afterlife and can destroy planets with ease? Or do the thoughts accumulate like some unseen pressures and become too much? The other one has to do with informational security. Even at the level of Silla Trebheart, I literally restrict the very memories of my secrets to within this Domain, and control communication lines outwards. Essentially, people can be told something, and then walk out not knowing what it is. Those memories would return upon re-entry, though. That can be dealt with by not leaving the Domain, or accepting the temporary removal as a price of being an employee."

"Can you leave the Domain?"

"...No. By this point, I am it and it is me. I've accepted that, to the very limited extent that I can. The time that we picked you up in this limo tank was a mock-up, that used a portal to bring you to a cloned, interior space. Maybe even larger somewhat, as the outwardly mobile one has much more armour and internalized equipment."

"What do you most fear about me?"

"That... That you truly don't want meaning in your life. That all you are looking for is transitive and sensory pleasures and gratification, and you'd choose that over the possible great significance we're offering to you."

"What do you most want?"

"Meaning. Purpose. Things that can't simply be solved by throwing reams of power, money or influence at. Relationships, trust, connections. Individual face time that means something rather than staying in front of a crowd for the purposes of adulation and adoration. To be a home, rather than some faceless living space."

"What do you fear?"

"...Collateral damage. From me, to me, and around me."

...

"Rainbow," Art said, "I don't know what I can do to convince you that I'm okay with all you've described. I mean... 'Safe' mantids? They'd make awesome secretaries and bodyguards. You can destroy the planet? The corps have been doing that for years - your accidents might just be the needed mercy kill." He shrugged. "I'm interested in formally staying on as well, if if counts."

I pointed to the clock and gave him a big smile. Thirty-one minutes had passed.

He smiled back at me, and we shook hands.

"So, Art," I began as we climbed out of the luxury tank, "have you given much thought to... Immortality?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

10:03 AM, Same day. Kobe Terrace Park, at South Jackson Street, West of the Freeway. Kia's POV.

"No doubt you've heard of the band The Shadows?" The high-powered corp asked. Just moments before, this business suited man introduced himself as Jonathan Teague. "I thought so. Who hasn't? They're the biggest recording act and live draw in the music business today. Do you have tickets to their upcoming Seattle show?"

I shook my head in the negative, but the truth was otherwise. The perks at working at Umbrella were many, and a simple two thousand nuyen ticket was nothing. A quick glance around confirmed that Daniel and Lester, Mr. Teague's associates, were also hanging around. We had all came to this little spot of greenery with the invitation of those two. The ride over had been in their Rolls Royce Phaeton, a limo we were much accustomed to nowadays.

Mutus and Hardpoint had their eyes on Mr. Teague's associates, in their own ways. Kellan was keeping an eye on the Astral scene, and I was eating drek and liking it. At least that was what my smile was suggesting.

"No? Well, perhaps I can secure a few for you should we come to an agreement today." The suit paused, as if to collect his thoughts. It drew momentary attention to the nuyen sign gold stud he wore in his left ear. "As you may or may not know, The Shadows are managed by a company called Caravan Productions - specifically, by a gentleman by the name of Allenby. The company I represent, Highstar Incorporated, deals with Allenby. Our business with Caravan is not directed related to The Shadows, though the cash flow derived from the band has some bearing on our discussions."

"Over the last several weeks Allenby has been the focus of several disturbing occurrences. On several occasions he received death threats, and three days ago his car blew up."

I queried Ops N about it, and she confirmed it. Some back tracing of the source of the explosion and the death threats led right back to the man in front of me. My smile widened just a little bit more.

[G1-Kia: We've got a really drekky suit here, Hardpoint. If you back trace the corp connections, his company is a subsidiary of MCT. What's your take on it?]

"Fortunately, whoever set the explosive charge made it too small to do much damage, and Allenby walked away unhurt." Jonathan Teague sighed, as if to express sympathy. "It would be in everyone's best interest, ours and Allenby's, to discover who is behind this and, um, terminate the flow of events, as it were. However, Allenby wants to handle the matter alone. My principals find that unacceptable. If Allenby is killed - or the threats against him become public knowledge - Caravan shares will drop in value, and the company may be forced to cancel The Shadows' concert. Neither of these eventualities would be good for business."

[G1-Hardpoint: How much drek are you talking about?]

He smiled and looked at me, as if he just now caught sight of myself. It looked strange on the hard angled face he had. "That's why I've contacted you," he went on smoothly. "My principals want you to investigate the attempts on Allenby's life, to find the responsible party, and turn them over to us for, um, processing."

[G1-Kia: Depends, how would you rate... Hold a second...] I went through some rapid fire questions and answers with Ops N. [Setting us up to be framed for murder and then geeked afterwards?]

"In return," the suit continued, "I am authorized to pay you a total sum of eighty-thousand nuyen - ten-thousand now as a binder, and the remainder on completion of the assignment."

[G1-Hardpoint: Do I get to frag up the Rolls Royce Phaeton?]

"I suggest that you start your investigation by speaking with Allenby. Though he won't be pleased, we want him to know that you are seeking out his would-be killers on our behalf." He regarded my coolly. "Any questions?"

[G1-Kia: Absolutely, chummer.]

"A few, Mr. Teague, if you would?" I asked him, and he nodded in reply. "What is your and Highstar's relationship with Allenby?"

"You don't need to know that to investigate his would-be killers, surely?" He asked me with a faint moue of disapproval. "I'm just a junior expediator, you might say. I make things happen." He put on a faint smile. "And certain professionals, such as yourself, help me in that process."

A quick query with Ops N confirms that he is, in fact, the executive vice-president of Highstar Incorporated. I don't think my smile could have gone any larger, but it did.

[G1-Hardpoint: I'm fine with turning them into a red paste spread over the road, then.]

"You're completely right, Mr. Teague." I shrugged. "It would have helped with the context of the situation. Any other leads or scenes to check out besides that of Allenby?"

[G1-Kia: Does that mean you're also fine with having them become Marquis' next round of draftees? Standard policy with fragging drekholes we deal with.]

"I'm sorry," he replied, "that is all I have at the moment."

[G1-Hardpoint: Ah, so ka.]

"It happens," I said. "We've worked with less." I made eye contact around the group, and everybody gave me an obvious nod of approval. "Mr. Teague," I began, putting as much warmth into my words as possible, "we'd be honoured to solve all these little problems."

We shook hands, exchanged contact information, and he passed me a certified credstick. We also received the location of Caravan's offices and their LTG number.

Hardpoint remotely drove the Roadmaster - Van Body option - to us, and we loaded up. It was a crying shame to keep the Shadowmech in this form, but it will be necessary for our plans.

Time to face the music man.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

10:43 AM. 2265 Occidental Avenue, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

Caravan's address led us to an old building. It was probably dated from before the turn of the century, rather than the currently popular heavy construction and ceramic composites. It likely enjoyed decades of Seattle's acid rain, which pitted the concrete and discoloured it with many black streaks.

Five floors, I thought, as I counted the lines of windows. Suite five-hundred must be on the top.

We entered the lobby as an irregular group. The place looked old, cheap and shabby. Not a single security camera in sight, nor a guard or protected area anywhere. Just low level corp wannabes, and they just stared at us like we were the most exciting things in their bleak, pointless wage-slave lives.

Which we probably were.

A short ride later and we were on the fifth floor. The elevator had opened onto a narrow hallway. The decision of which way to turn was forestalled by a floor room directory listing, which indicated that suite five-hundred was to our right. We followed the hallway and ended up at a door that read "Caravan Productions Corporation." I pushed it open, and the reception room beyond was a pleasant surprise in comparison to the building we just went through.

Platinum disks, of the type awarded for best selling musical albums and chips, dotted the walls. Most of them belonged to The Shadows, while a couple named an old novastar named Jetblack. I wasn't familiar with the name, apart from some half-remembered recollections of him dying a few years ago.

If the reception was impressive compared to the building, so too was the receptionist as compared to the room around her. She was a beautiful young woman with a mane of golden hair. A man of about the same age stood next to her, who wore inexpensive copies of high corp fashion. There was the metallic glitter of a datajack in his forehead. His response to our entrance was a through visual examination, followed by backing away. He wouldn't earn any points with the receptionist that way, I'd imagine.

The impossibly blue eyes of the young woman looked up at me. "Uh... Yes?" The receptionist asked. "Can I help you?"

"I sure sure hope so!" I put on a polite smile and stuck my hand in her direction. She shook it automatically, before realizing what she did. Her hand was withdrawn slightly faster than what would be polite right after. "

[G1-Kia: Some room and hallway oversight, chummers? I don't know how this situation will go., I sent out to the group.

Kellan approved with and echoed my statement, and they all subtly spread out around the room. The corp wannabe backed up even further in reaction.

"I'm Kia, miss. And yourself?" I asked her.

"I'm Tangent," she replied, nervously.

"And the gentleman over there?" I gestured to the young man who was trying his best to not obviously hide in the corner.

"David Graves," she continued, still staring at me.

"Well, Tangent," I started, "I'd like to see Allenby, please. Is he available?"

The receptionist hesitantly tried to put on a smile, but failed in the attempt. "I'm sorry... Kia. He is in conference call at the moment. Would you like to leave a message for him?" Her face was suggesting something like 'please say yes and go far, far away. Right now. Please? Please?'

A quick double-check with Ops N confirmed that that was a blatant lie.

[G1-Kia: Hey chummers, can you keep this young lady company? I need to have a word with the boss here and I want it to be one-on-one., I sent out. At the same time, I sighed in mock sadness. "I'm sorry to hear that too, Tangent. If you boss asks, I was just being a rude piece of drek, alright?"

With that last statement of mine, I moved a little bit away and let Mutus and Kia approach her from either side of the desk. They sat on it, an arm's length from her. Hardpoint did his best cheery dwarven smile at Mr. Graves, who didn't look relaxed in slightest.

I gave the setup a mental nod of approval, and approached the inner office door. With only a mild internal wince at hearing Tanget's voice raised in disapproval, I pushed past the door labeled 'Allenby.'

The inner office was larger than the reception area, and even better decorated. More platinum disks and other awards shone on the walls, which were highlighted by track lighting mounted on the ceiling. A huge desk, of what looked like genuine, heavy, dark wood, took up the middle of the room. A sophisticated computer system sat on top of it, which had a slender fiber optic line to a datajack in the head of a balding, ugly dwarf with an unruly black beard. His flinty eyes glared out at me from behind the wrinkles of his leathery face.

"And just who the frag are you?" the dwarf growled, his face twisted into a snarl.

Ah, I thought. Hostile negotiation time.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

11:17 AM. Caravan's offices. Suite 500, 2265 Occidental Avenue, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

"...AND GET OUT! SPIT RANCID SOYCAF UP A GHOUL'S DREKHOLE AND..." I tuned out the rest of the screamed insults with ease, much like I dodged the flying mug that was directed from the enraged dwarf. It shattered on the wall opposite the door. Thankfully, it did not hit any of the hanging silver disks.

[G1-Kia: This is going to be a messy run, chummers. We need digital invisibility off, though records can be contained to within the metroplex. We're finally going to get some publicity., I sent to the group. Mixed reactions were sent in reply, which died down as I explained the plans, and Kellan approved it.

I gave a smile to the now wincing receptionist and a nod to the corp wannabe, and we left the offices. An elevator ride and lobby walk-through later, we were out of the commercial structure. As we were heading towards the Shadowmech disguised as a Roadmaster, a big figure walked in our direction from the corner of the building. He was human, but big enough to pass for a troll in low lighting. As he spread his hands to his to indicate he was unarmed, I cycled through some viewing modes. 'Cyberware detection' showed a quite a large amount of chrome, with the most stand-out pieces being a pair of cyberarms, each with implanted Ares Predator heavy pistols in them.

I silently passed that on to the group, and Kellan sent out some orders. Hardpoint continued on to the Shadowmech, while Mutus and Kellan stuck together and went to cover. I waved to the approaching man and indicated a nearby doorway with a tilt of my head. He met me inside it.

He wore a black duster and dark street clothes. He had on a wry half-smile, no doubt in response to the caution we just displayed.

"Hoi, chummer," he said affably. "Got a minute to shoot the drek? I'm looking for work, and I think you might be able to help me out."

Another query sent to Ops N revealed that he was a FBI 'contractor.' Drek. I pasted on a bland smile and did my best to reply in kind. "Of course, chummer. What's your biz?"

"I'm Wallace," he replied, and stuck a hand my way. I shook it, and trusted in the team's oversight to take care of things if they got crazy.

"Just Wallace," he continued.

"Street samurai?" I asked 'just' Wallace. "Some experience?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Some Desert Wars tours with the UCAS Marines. Great bunch, but I didn't keep."

"What kind of biz are you looking for, then?" I asked him "Something in the shadows, or...?"

"Nah, chummer," Wallace answered. "Not interested. More like the kind of thing I did before I joined the army - the entertainment biz."

"Good biz if you can catch it, sure," I said. "Why are you chatting with me then? The music biz is in the building there." I indicated where we came from with a tilt of my head.

"That's just it," he said. "I was thinking of approaching Allenby for a job, but I'd prefer to get some inside paydata to make myself more interesting to the dwarf. Did you meet him? Find out anything I could use?"

I shrugged and said, "If by 'meet' you mean 'was screamed at,' then sure. I 'met' him a whole bunch of times under the course of a hour."

We exchanged amused smiles with each other. Just a perfect pair of chummers, joking around and having fun. Fragging FBI. It was followed by more light chatting, where he sent probing questions my way about Allenby and Caravan. He left with the same casual air that he approached us with. Hardpoint brought around the van and picked up the two ladies and myself, and we drove away.

Shadowmech's appearance changed in stages as we left the area. Some few minutes later, it was unrecognizable, and we circled back. Hardpoint recalled, inspected and redeployed his drone and we all took out some snack food. We'll have to wait for the drek to hit the fan. Tangent and David Graves will be picked once they leave the building, and we can explain the details to them then.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

12:11 PM. Shadowmech van, Driving away from 2265 Occidental Avenue, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

"I can't believe it," Tangent kept on saying. "We knew Highstar Incorporated was underhanded, but this much?"

Mutus acted as the comforting presence in this case, while I kept watch on David's assisted sleep.

"Exactly," I replied, and followed it with another variation of the same words. "You both know that he was alive when we left, so it would be kind of hard for us to have geeked the dwarf. Living witnesses are annoyances - that's why you're here with us. To stay alive. We're just waiting for the planned ambush details to be sent our way. After all, we're just a bunch of know-nothing, expendable runners, right?"

Tangent looked confused while the rest of us laughed.

[G1-Hardpoint: My Shadowmech here has been changed back to the earlier configuration since we picked up these two splat jobs. Lone Star should start their useless attack very soon.]

"If you want, we can drive you to a secure hotel for the day," I began. "Everything should be cleared by tomorrow, when you can -" My words were cut off by the tiny, quiet pings of high caliber bullets. "That's it, then."

Kellan verbally instructed Hardpoint to lose the brass, and we were then engaged in a highspeed chase. Unfortunately, our rigger had to limit himself to the default turbo maximums of a custom Roadmaster.

...

A rather tense four minutes later, and we were in the clear.

"I would like that hotel now, please," the nervous blond receptionist said. "Now now, please."

Tangent's refrain had changed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

2:42 PM. Exterior of The Mattresses, Seattle Downtown, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

The text of the message from Meta was rather clear: 'My name is Meta. I work for Highstar, as does your current employer. There are some things you should know about your current project. I suggest a meet. I know a good place. It's a club called The Mattresses, near Seattle Center on Denny Way, by Tam's Under the Needle. Bigwigs from all the corps use The Mattresses to meet. It's a guaranteed safe house because club members hunt down and kill anyone causing trouble. Too many people need The Mattresses, and anyone who compromises its safety dies. Do you understand? Good. Meet me there in one hour. I'll tell the doorman to expect you; just say you're with Highstar. Dress appropriately."

A quick check of my internal clock system confirmed that it was less than five minutes to the hour Meta had mentioned. Kellan and Mutus were here with me, with all of us dressed up - but not too dressed up. My take on it was a somewhat better suit, with the ladies doing feminine versions of the same thing. It was a far cry from the friendly setup we had done with Ms. Falls, but our current situation was far from friendly.

"Keep an eye out, Hardpoint," Kellan said to the dwarven rigger as she passed him.

"Gambatte Kudasai," he replied with an absent minded wave, already absorbed in the various sensory feeds he was handling.

The three of us left the Shadowmech and headed to the mentioned address across the street. I lead down the narrow, concrete stairway which terminated at a solid, metal door. I was just able to read the sign on the door, 'The Mattresses - Members and Guests Only," before it swung open.

We walked through the doorway and I took in the sight. The small anteroom was decorated in dark wood, with rich burgundy carpeting on the floor. The maitre d', a dinner-jacketed elf, stood behind a small podium. He didn't look terribly impressed by us.

"Good day," he said politely. "You are guests? Who is your sponsoring corporation, please?"

I had the half insane idea to tell him the Umbrella Import Group, even if only to see his reaction. For all I know, it could already be listed on her. A quick query to Ops N confirmed that, yes indeed, we were.

"Good day to you too," I replied. "We're with Highstar."

"Very good madams, sir," he said while he tapped at a computer terminal. With a final nod, he beckoned us to follow him - without any attention being drawn to our hidden weapons.

The brief visual tour I made as I walked behind the elf highlighted understated opulence: dark wood, leather-topped tables, leather wingbacked chairs, and likely valuable art on the walls. The place was busy. Two dozen or so customers sat at the tables, all affluent corp types who were momentarily surprised at our presence.

[T-Kia-Mutus: Could you tell Ma'fan about this place? I'm sure she would love to... Give a through appraisal to the paintings. And other artwork.]

The blue banged elven assassin nudged me with an elbow, and smiled when I turned to look at her.

[T-Mutus-Kia: I already did, thanks. She is excited about the prospect.]

The was one final conspiratorial look between us, before the maitre d' turned around and gestured to a booth. "Your party awaits you," he murmured, "at the booth by the kitchen." He strode away right afterwards.

The three of us barely slid into the booth around the woman when she started talking. "I'm Meta," she said, "I'm here to help you."

I mentally snorted at the idea. Still, it was always a possibility - even if slim. She was tall and well-groomed, wearing what passes for corp haute couture these days, with the exception of mirrored wraparound sunglasses and skintight silver gloves. A scan of her cyberware revealed cybereyes, handrazors and high-level wired reflexes.

"I work as Mr. Teague's expediator," she continued smoothly. "I recently found out through channels that you're assisting him on an important project." She smiled wryly. "You've already failed. Allenby of Caravan is dead."

"I don't know the details," she said, forestalling any questions. "I only know that he is dead, and there was no sign of violence. His secretary, Tangent, found him sitting at his desk, still jacked into his computer, dead as a slab of meat. Though I haven't spoken to Mr. Teague today, I'm assuming he's working on damage control. Allenby's death could hurt Highstar considerably. Likely he'll want to find out who offed the dwarf. I'm authorized to continue using your services on my own initiative, and I want you to find Allenby's killers and bring them to me."

Is this ballerina for real?!, I thought, as I shook my head.

Time Stop was followed by me drawing my Ares Predator infinity and making the required movements to shoot her in three different exposed locations. I holstered my weapon and Resumed. The silenced shots made no noise, and the effects of paralyzation took place immediately after her slight impact-based movements.

[G1-Kia: You're up, Kellan. Meta is frozen., I sent to the group.

Kellan shifted her position in the booth so that she was beside our 'host.' A casual arm around her later, she closed her eyes and an expression of concentration was on her face. We waited for the results.

[G1-Hardpoint: I just downed 24 orcs dressed in satin and lace on the street outside. Friends of yours?]

[G1-Kia: No idea. Could be random, could be planned. Can you safely grab one or two that look important and shove them into the scanner? Then put some distance in, if you haven't already.]

He sent an acknowledgement, and we continued to wait for Kellan.

"She doesn't know anything," our blond mage leader finally said, as she pulled back from Meta. "She's been kept clueless about Teague's activities."

This is certainly an interesting complication, I thought as I looked at the others.

"What do you want to do, Kellan?" I asked her, as I gestured to Meta. "Just wipe the last ten minutes, down her, or...?"

"Fill her in," Kellan replied. "See if she can make some informed decisions on her own."

"Right," I said, as I looked around. When I caught the eye of a waiter, I flagged him over.

"Yes, sir?" The black-suited gentleman asked me. He pointedly did not comment about the situation at the table, or our appearances.

"Table of four," I began. "Put the corp name as the Umbrella Import Group. And menus, please."

"Of course, sir," He replied. "Right away." With a bow, he backed up and strode away.

"Her current thoughts are 'drek drek drek drek drek' if it means anything," Kellan said with restrained laughter and closed eyes, with her arm again resting around Meta's shoulders.

"Now then," I said with a wide smile, "lets find out how capable Meta is of making smart, informed decisions."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

4:11 PM. Shadowmech, Driving away from The Mattresses, Seattle Downtown, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

I dialed the number Meta gave me and waited. A flat voice answered, "Teague."

"Kia," I replied in kind.

"I'm glad you called," his voice oozed reassurance like a switch flicked from dark to light. "I've been trying to get in touch with you. Sorry I couldn't return your calls, but I've been incredibly busy holding things together since Allenby's death. I assume you heard about that?"

"Yes, I did, Mr. Teague," I answered him. "What can you tell us about Lone Star's warrant for our arrest?"

"That's horrible," he said. "Allenby's killer must have set up the false murder charges."

"Must be," I said. "I'm sure everything will work out in the end."

"Me too!" He said. "Glad you have confidence in the legal system. Say, I don't blame you in the slightest for being upset, or for looking after your own hides. But whoever killed him did it too soon after I hired you for you to do much to prevent it. I'd like to keep you on the payroll to help me find the killer, though. I'll even increase your retainer."

"That sounds wiz, Mr. Teague," I replied. "Thank you very much. Where should we meet you?" To get ambushed?

"I know just the place," he said. "Come to Highstar's warehouse down by the docks. Be careful. I've heard that whoever geeked Allenby is looking for you next."

"So ka," I replied. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, Kia," he said. "Just remember - the Highstar warehouse, one hour."

I wouldn't miss it for the world.

We both hung up without saying anything else.

I explained the details that Mr. Teague passed to me, and we spend some time brainstorming ideas. It came down to one thing - it's Hardpoint's turn.

As we secured ourselves in the van's seats, I loudly asked, "Hey, Hardpoint - how much range do your have with your Shademech, anyways?"

"Neptune," he replied.

"Neptune city?" I asked. "I'm not familiar with that. Is it in the Salish-Shidhe Council area?"

"No," he said. "Not a city. The planet. The planet Neptune."

What.

In that moment, everybody was focused on Hardpoint in silence.

"Pardon?" I said. "Hardpoint? Do you mean like the outer space planet, Neptune?"

"Hai."

"And this does not seem mind bogglingly insane to you, perhaps?"

"Oh, it does," he replied. "I may not look like it, but I'm so incredibly fired up with excitement that I need a huge dose of tranqs to sleep at night. Otherwise I can't. Can't sleep, I mean. Do you know that putting the drone in the sun causes it's paint to peel?" He let loose a crazed laugh. "I was told not to do that again. Or visit Mars, either, for some reason. I've also picked up astronomy as a hobby. It's a lot easier when you're able to put a telescope into outer space with a few thoughts."

"Ah. Really." I don't know who said that. It might have been me or the other two. Maybe all of us at the same time.

"So many restrictions, too!" He growled loud enough for us all to hear it, then apologized. "It's like... No, Hardpoint, you can't have molecular debonders. No, Hardpoint, you can't have light-speed capable particle accelerators. No, Hardpoint, you can't have sub-space fracture projecting beams. No, Hardpoint, you can't have Von Neumann based nanobot deployment systems. All the fun stuff is locked up behind executive orders." He sighed. "How about you guys? Did you get anything good?"

"I can stop time, and slow it," I said. "Just for about a minute, though, at absolute tops. It is pretty draining - a cumulative drain. I also have a magical heavy pistol."

"My existing magic abilities have been greatly boosted," Kellan added. "They are more powerful, and I can do them nearly endlessly. But I still have to learn new spells the old fashioned way. At least they will be upgraded as well, when I have them."

"I can see through walls," Mutus chipped in. "A multitude of different sorts of vision modes, and some sort of projectile assessment ability for ultra-long distances. A boosted rifle, too."

"...I'm going to shut up now," Hardpoint said, quietly.

...

It was a pleasant drive. We just went over to the docks and picked up the downed recruits for the Marquis: five street samurai, three snipers, and a street mage.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

5:34 PM. Shadowmech, Driving away from the Highstar warehouse, Harbor Island, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

"What does Marquis do with all these 'recruits,' anyways?" Hardpoint asked us.

"They are forcefully drafted into the organized crime outfit that is supported by UIG," I replied, as I leaned back in one of the van's comfy chairs.

"So ka," the dwarf said, and nodded. "What is it like?"

"Noble Bones is the name of the organization," I said. "They are currently headquartered in Redmond - if I remember it right - and are going for a very professional, friendly and polite style. Kind of like a combination of the best qualities of the Mafia and the Yakuza."

His next words were cut off by the ring of my cell phone. I pulled it out of my jacket and had it picked up by the second ring. "Hello?"

"Hello Kia, this is Tangent. We met... Ah... Earlier?"

"Sure, Tangent," I replied, mentally picturing the rather flustered blond receptionist. "How is the hotel? Nobody got to you, right?"

"It's fine, thank you," she said. "I had to argue with David to get him to stay, but things must be safer in here then out there."

"You could say that, yeah," I said. "We just ran through a large ambush. Not a scratch, though."

"I'm... Glad to hear that, then," she said. "The operator - 'N' or something? - said that the phone was secure, so I tried to tell Lone Star the truth. Nobody listened to me!"

"That's fragged up," I replied. It really is, I thought. I'll definitely need to pass that up the corporate line.

"I know!" Tangent said loudly. "Ah... Did I tell you earlier that his whole simsense demo directory was wiped? Totally blown away?"

"Yeah," I answered her. "Don't worry about anything computer related. We've already accessed it all, including his 'hidden' directory with the backups of everything."

"Oh... How? I thought that was impossible... Because... No?"

"We've got some secrets, Tangent," I said with a light chuckle. "So do you, I imagine."

She sighed, and the impression of the blond sulking was conveyed very well through the phone. "Did you want to talk to The Shadows? The band? They know more about Allenby than anybody. A media producer named Blair Wickingham is throwing a party at his house in Matthews Beach. The Shadows will be there, and you could meet and talk with them then. The party is invitation-only, but Wickingham sent Allenby a bunch of invitations. I can courier them to you, if you tell me where to send them."

"Let me check with the group here, Tangent, hold on."

I quickly explained what the receptionist was suggesting. Everybody within the now more cramped than usual van - nine extra breathing bodies would do that - agreed with idea. A party would be nice.

"Seems like a great idea, thank you," I said into the phone. "You can send them to..." I rattled off an access point used by the Three Hundred. There were plenty of them, and each were pretty secure.

We exchanged some casual pleasantries, and she ended things with, "I'll be in touch again if I can."

Some live bodies to drop off and tickets to pick up, then it is time to party.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

8:11 PM. Patio, North East Penthouse Suite, Casing Visa Luxury Block, Matthews Beach, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

I discreetly retrieved my Ares Predator infinity from the near-invisible, rippling form of the Shademech. As it was a partially open-roof penthouse party, the simplest option was this way. I holstered it and turned back to the action.

The party was already in full swing. The young bright lights of Seattle had come to see and be seen. Depending on the degrees of clothing they weren't wearing, they could be very seen indeed. Sleazy producers, brain-dead leading men, willing starlets, and chipped out musicians filled the room with the buzz of what they doubtlessly hoped was witty conversation and laughter.

It reminds me of the times like this in East Asia, when I partied it up as a promising executive of the Eastern Tiger Corporation.

The air reeked with perfume and the heady aroma of various smoked substances. I flagged a drink-bearing waiter and took up the offered champagne flute. A sip later, I was convinced - it was almost as good as some of the average stuff available via The Catalogue.

We are so incredibly spoiled, I thought. I wonder how the Three Hundred live like this, all the time.

The Shadows themselves stood together in a group, near the sliding doors that led from the patio here to the inner area. They're dressed in street leathers, but the way their clothes hung suggested that that was it - no extra armour included. A mass of sycophants and wannabes surrounded the band, with nearly all of them trying to catch and hold their attention. The band members themselves just looked bored and uncomfortable.

No point in approaching them now, I thought. Not with that mob around them.

Kellan and Mutus were together, pretending to be a couple for their own sanity. As our blue banged assassin had the looks and voice of a pop star fused with a porn star, she was getting hit on near endlessly. I was ready to help 'thin the herd' around them whenever they asked. My musing was interrupted by some dark, searing music. I vaguely recognized it as Jetblack's material but couldn't place the song or album.

At the end of the song, the music faded, along with the noise of conversation throughout the entire party. Everyone looked at The Shadows while holding aloft their glass of champagne. The lead singer - Marli something or rather - spoke, her voice too loud for a human throat. "A toast," she said, "to absent friends, and to those who are no further away than sunset." The band members then raised their glasses, downed their drinks, and shattered the empties against the fake stonework beside the door.

[G1-Hardpoint: Teague and company coming up. Target of opportunity! I'm executing my side of the plan - I'll be waiting for the signal to finish it off.]

There was quite a number of confused guests at that action. Some repeated it, but they looked embarrassed afterwards. The noise of conversation and music resumed as the servers tidied up the broken glass pieces. Another one of Jetblack's anthems to depression and fear came up. Rather bleak material.

Kellan, Mutus and myself winded ourselves through the party. I passed my empty glass to the nearest server with a word of thanks, and we positioned ourselves as far as possible in direct sight of the penthouse doors. Some few minutes later, Mr. Teague and three of his escorts entered via the doors we were watching, and scanned the entire room. He froze when he saw us, and made to turn around and leave - but the sight of our smiles and waves confused him. I pulled my cell phone from my jacket and pointed to it, then dialed in his number.

"Kia?" He said. I observed him from a distance. He stayed in the doorway, with two of his guards on the inside, and the third by the outer hallway that led to the elevator. "What a surprise to see you here! I was just so shocked by your appearance - I think somebody knocked me out at the meet. I'm glad that Highstar operatives were able to rescue me before I came to harm. I'm sorry I forgot to warn you - but I was unconscious at the time."

[G1-Kia: Get ready.]

"Not a problem, Mr. Teague," I replied. "We barely were able to blink before we downed those nine drekheads. However, I think that that killer of Allenby has followed us. Followed us and connected you to us. You better be careful, Mr. Teague. That killer might be much, much more than you'd ever be able to handle."

[G1-Kia: NOW!]

Before he was able to reply, the roar of an explosion was heard in the background.

"I think that killer might have just gotten your limo, Mr. Teague," I said softly. "I hope you have insurance." I maintained a soft smile in his direction. "I have no idea where that killer might strike again, Mr. Teague. Please, please, sir - be careful. Be very careful. The shadows are very dangerous."

Time Stop was followed by a smooth drawing of my pistol. It would be a trick shot, but... I am all about the trick shots. Tranq bullets were aimed to down the two guards on the interior, and a custom bullet designed for multiple angled ricochets was set to hit the third. I holstered my weapon, positioned my self as best I remember being just recently, and Resumed.

Teague's guards dropped to the ground around him like flies.

"Oh no, Mr. Teague," I said softly, "the killer just got your guards. I wonder what that killer is going to do when he finds you? All alone? Huddling in the dark in terror? Will you be screaming then, Mr. Teague? Will you beg for mercy? Will you apologize for your betrayals? Will you think that your wealth will save you? Will you think that the evidence in your home computer will save you?"

He stared at me, ashen faced, his phone held in a limp hand.

"No, no, Mr. Teague." I shook my head in refusal. "Maybe that killer will only say one thing: run and hide. Run... And... Hide... So that I can chase you." I then gave him the biggest drek-eating grin I possibly could. "Have a great night, Mr. Teague. Enjoy yourself." I hung up and replaced the cell phone inside my jacket.

Almost as if coordinated, the three of us stared at him in silence. Not moving, not saying anything. He backed up quickly and was soon out of sight.

[G1-Kia: Recordings of that will be available later tonight. Going price is one nuyen. Takers, anyone? It will be a few minutes before Bones medical, I mean... DocWagon comes to pick up these three. The driver was replaced by a copy, too - Hardpoint has him.]

Kellan and Mutus lightly pushed me between the both of them while we laughed.

[G1-Hardpoint: I just blew up over half a million nuyen vehicle. This is the happiest day of my life.]

...

We didn't end up speaking to The Shadows after all.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

9:02 PM. Shadowmech, Driving away from the Casing Visa Luxury Block, Matthews Beach, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

"We've got a tail," Hardpoint said. The dwarf was nearly fully reclined in his kitted out 'pilot seat.' His eyes were covered by one of his arms and he let out a yawn as I watched. "Some gang member or another. We gained him when we left the party. Want me to down him too?"

I looked at Kellan from my own seat. Mutus was inspecting her rifle, but otherwise disinterested. I didn't think either way about it.

"Can you put him on the screens, Hardpoint?" Kellan asked.

Immediately, a number of the screens lit up with a magnified view of a leather-clad elf as he straddled a Yamaha Rapier. He was idling his motorcycle, apparently ogling some buxom blond that was walking past him. The screens changed to pictures as Hardpoint moved the drone to different angles. The last one was of his back - his gang colours. It was a grim reaper riding a heavy duty bike - a hog.

I was about to ask Ops N about it when Kellan cut in. "I recognize that symbol," she said. "It was the same one on the gang that handled security at the party we were just at, the Nightstalkers. No idea why they are following us, though. Nobody noticed anything."

"Tail the tail?" Hardpoint offered as a suggestion.

"Go for it," Kellan replied.

The Shadowmech soon revved up and turned around. It was directed on a collusion course for the gang member. He quickly took off, and we chased after him, slowly losing ground. Eventually, he went out of sight and we slowed to a stop.

"My Shademech is on it," Hardpoint said. He ran his fingers through his large, bushy beard and yawned again. "It might be a while until he stops. I'm going to eat something." He opened his eyes and reached over and fumbled around in the bags beside him. "Where was it now..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

9:47 PM. Deserted fire station, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

"So, we have guests." Those were the first four words I heard from the man I assumed to be the leader of the Nightstalkers. The second floor of this deserted fire station was completely black. I opted against changing that with darkvision or other comparable options, and instead waited.

Cool blue light flared. It lit up the form of a tall, slim figure of a young man. He wore tailored black leather, and his glossy black hair fell to his shoulders. It framed his slender face with high cheekbones and an elf-like complexion, though he was obviously human. Or, given the magical nimbus around him and the enlarged eyeteeth that his smile reveals, a vampire.

"Hello, Jetblack," I said with a calm, polite tone. "Your voice is still noticeably that of a professional performer, if you're interested. I doubt you've lost that edge."

A flicker of a smile ghosts over his face before it settles into neutrality again.

"I want to know why you are hanging around The Shadows," he said quietly, and showed his canines again. "If you give me the wrong answer, I might well arrange it so you'll never look on the light of day again."

[G1-Kia: You chummers picking up this audio okay? I seriously can NOT believe a vampire would use lines like that.]

Hardpoint and Mutus echoed my disbelief, while Kellan just snorted from beside me and gave me a look from the corner of her eyes.

"We have no particular interest in The Shadows," I began. "Our purposes are simple: make the person who arranged for the death of Allenby and our own framing to experience a horrific ending and to clear our own names in the process."

A single blink of surprise was the only sign he gave us.

"You already know who did it?" Jetblack asked us.

[G1-Kellan: Watch what you say, Kia. We don't know what abilities, if any, he has., Kellan sent from beside me.

I nodded, silently. It was both to Jetblack's question and an acknowledgement of Kellan.

"Who, then?!" His canines again flashed.

I decided to take a gamble. "Jetblack," I began, "we've had a rather strange day. We can dance around the issue, or I could tell you some rather implausible truths. Things would be much simpler for me if you were able to confirm truth or not - by any means. Then I can drop all the stories."

The vampire stared at me silently. If he had such an ability, he'd be able to perceive that my comments just now were truthful as well.

"Yes, I have such an ability," he eventually said, in a quiet tone. "What would you tell me that is so implausible, then?"

I held up my hands and pulled back my sleeves, and displayed them to Jetblack. That done, I grabbed my forearms and wrapped them around each other behind me, which I also showed him. I then walked up to him about a step away, bent towards him, and began to whisper.

He soon began to laugh. By the time I was done, he was likely doubting his own powers. I walked back to beside Kellan and unhooked my arms. I made for us both to leave, and looked at him in silent inquiry. 'Is there anything else?' was the implied question.

He sent us out with a wave, and another canine-filled smile was flashed our way.

...

Kellan and myself barely cleared the property edges of the fire station before Wallace showed up again. The miserable rain necessitated that we step into a doorway. We went to the nearest one and stood, wet but comfortable, across from the large, chromed up man.

"We need to talk," he said flatly. "And you need it more than I do. Pick a place, somewhere private."

I glanced at Kellan in inquiry.

[G1-Kellan: Hardpoint - please bring the Shadowmech to our location. We have a friendly FBI guest incoming., she sent. Her message answered multiple questions at once.

"Our van is coming, Wallace," I said. "It's secure - and we will all be there."

He didn't look pleased, but he didn't leave, either. The vehicle pulled up shortly, and we all went inside. Every trace of high technology was absent from the interior, with only heavy, armoured plating being visible. No sign of weaponry of any sort, either. Nothing for Wallace to complain about. After all, simple slabs of metal are far from illegal.

"Welcome to our humble abode, Wallace," I said, and gestured to one of the free seats. "What's all this about?"

He sighed, and his large frame seemed to shrink with the action. "I work with a special FBI task force investigating corruption and collusion within the entertainment industry," he began. Our complete lack of any reaction may have thrown him, but nothing showed up on his face. "I was assigned to find if there was such happening in regards to Allenby and his business, Caravan. I initially thought that you runners worked for Allenby and Highstar, perhaps as liaisons between the two corps."

Wallace let out a small laugh and sighed again. "Allenby's death shot that theory to pieces," he continued. "I did some digging, and found out about Highstar's offer to buy out Caravan, and that the dwarf turned them down. That act cleared Caravan, and I no longer had an official assignment. However, I believe that Highstar murdered Allenby in order to take over Caravan. My problem lies in that neither Highstar nor murder lies within my jurisdiction. I find the whole experience very unpleasant and would make efforts to clean up messes if this mess was cleaned up."

He gave us all a loaded stare to emphasize the meaning of what he was trying to convey.

Ah, yes, I thought. The 'clean sweep' of the FBI. Or, more appropriately, the movement of files from one node to another with a higher security clearance.

"I know you guys have seen Allenby's files," he said. "And I also think you found the door that wasn't there. The word of the day is 'Charon.' Put it to good use." With that, he got up to leave via the closest van door. It didn't move when he pulled on it. When he looked back at us, the door smoothly slid open. Wallace shook his head and left into the rain again. The door shut behind him, and we started to drive away.

"Let's head to Caravan's offices and pretend to do something there for a few minutes, then," Kellan said.

I groaned at the wasted time involved, but understood the reason for it. If only for appearances' sake.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

10:52 PM. Shadowmech, Approaching the Teague Estate, Vashon Heights, Vashon Island luxury enclave, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

The beginning of the end started with a single word spoken into my cellphone: "Now." It was then disconnected and replaced inside my jacket. I gave the others a grin, which was returned, if with less enthusiasm. Mutus' face was totally devoid of any emotion.

Less than a minute later the Teague estate came into sight. We rolled right up to the guard shack at the front gate, and it opened without us having to do anything. Another short drive brought us up to the main building itself, and everybody except Hardpoint unloaded.

I only spared a glance to the property around us. Rolling hills, real trees and a waterfront property. There were no guards in sight.

Nuyen buys many things, Mr. Teague, I thought. I stepped up to the front door, opened it, and beckoned the others to enter. Kellan and Mutus passed me into the house. Ops N wasn't even needed to unlock the door, as it wasn't locked in the first place.

Almost in step, the three of us walked down the hallway, as if we knew where we were going. We did, of course. Meta's room on the right; trideo room on the left... Guest bathroom on the right; library on the left; meeting room on the right; Teague's den on the left. We stopped a few paces before the doorway. With a flash-back to a certain shooting-through-the-door incident, I knocked on it from as far away as possible.

It opened, and I stepped in. The other two were right behind me.

"Hello, Meta," I said to the cybered up woman. "Have you decided to make the smart decision, then?"

She looked at the blinking, still form of Jonathan Teague and turned back to me. "Yes," she replied. "He's all yours. Thanks for giving me his accounts." She left the room. "Maybe I'll see you chummers if you stop by Noble Bones."

"Volunteers get much better treatment than draftees," I loudly spoke in the direction of the hallway. I might have heard an acknowledgement, but the front door closing muffled it. We gathered around the desk, and I tapped the computer for redundancy's sake as Ma'fan had already come and gone.

The drawing of my heavy pistol was mirrored by the others. Kellan touched Teague, and through what was likely the spell of Awaken, brought him into mobility.

His artificial stillness was replaced by controlled stillness.

"Here we are, Mr. Teague." I didn't smile or put any sort of expression on my face. "I thought you were supposed to run and hide? You didn't do a very good job."

He was only able to stutter, half broken words as he looked at us.

"This would have gone so much differently if you simply paid us to erase Allenby." I shook my head. "But you had to get creative about it. Make some sort of convoluted plan, frame the runners who you underpaid... But!" I clapped my hands and smiled. "Just like Meta, you will be offered a simple choice. However, yours is only of two options: join Noble Bones... Or die. Which would you prefer?"

"Um... Ah... Noble Bones." He replied. Teague was likely relieved at the thought that he would get out of this alive.

"Excellent choice, Mr. Teague!" I said. "I'll just need to confirm that." I then shot him with a paralyzing bullet and looked at Kellan.

"Anybody want to take odds whether he is lying or not?" I asked the room. Neither Kellan or Mutus answered me. "Thought not."

Kellan briefly placed her hands on the corp's head. Shortly thereafter, she looked at us and shook her head. She stepped away from the stilled man.

"I'm afraid you were dishonest with us, Mr. Teague." I sighed. "And after we went and offered you an option that did not end up in your death. I'm amazed at your stupidity, truly." I looked from side to side. "Kellan? Mutus? Any words?"

"I've drastically reduced my going rates for a short window of time," Mutus said. Her voice was cold in this instance. A stark reminder in that the majority of her - previously his - life, she was a dedicated, professional assassin. She still is, if not getting that much practice in her role.

Kellan held out her hand to me, and I passed her the nine nuyen credstick.

"I'd like to order a hit," Kellan said, as she stared at the stilled man. "His name is Jonathan Teague, and he is a murderous, traitorous drek. And I say that after being on the inside of his mind for just a few moments."

"One nuyen," Mutus said, as she also stared at Mr. Teague. Kellan handed the credstick to Mutus. "Nine nuyen? Thank you. A nine hundred percent raise is appreciated." With that, she raised her own light pistol and shot him once in the forehead.

His blinking ceased.

We left the same way we came in, and loaded up into the Shadowmech. As we drove away, the bright flashes of large explosions were seen in the distance. Much closer, Hardpoint was sighing under his breath about "absolutely, positively, the best day I've ever had in my life so far."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

11:48 PM. Personal Office, Sanctum. Director Silla Trebheart's POV.

Time for another round of calls, I thought. I flashed a smile to the picture of Jessica on my desk and activated my headset with a mental directive. It connected after two rings.

"Wallace."

"FBI operative Wallace?" I began. "This is Director Silla Trebheart of the Umbrella Import Group. I'd like to arrange an in-person talk to you about law and justice, and the difference between them."

"...Is this some kind of joke?"

"A common reaction when I phone someone, apparently," I said. "Please look at your phone display now." I had no idea what Nessi shows them, but it is nearly always convincing.

"What... What do you know?"

"I know that you acted outside your jurisdiction to right what you believed was an injustice," I said, as I skimmed over a transcript on my computer pad. "That is the kind of quality we are looking for - whether it is employed with us, or merely associated with us."

"I'm interested, then. Here are some times I'm available..."

...

"Jetblack? I'm Director Silla Trebheart of the Umbrella Import Group. I'd like to arrange your first vampirism curing session and contract overview. When would you be available?"

...

"Mr. McClure? I'm representing some special interests that can solve problems. I heard that you are one of the few Aztech execs not suffering from the nightmares that plague your fellow board members and other individuals of note. Would I be correct in assuming that you are looking for a solution for the many problems Aztech faces?"

...

"Hello, Marquis. Any problems with the new batch? No? Excellent. We will keep them coming. Any requests for the Cayman Islands development? Okay. Keep me posted, thank you."

...

"Captain Grissim? This is Director Silla Trebheart. Do you have a moment? Yes? Thank you. We've uncovered another stack of corrupt Lone Star individuals. Extensive evidence in all situations. Do you want to do something about it this time, or will it be another refusal? You'll see them? Great. And yes, I know that does not mean you are committed to doing anything. We appreciate you at least looking at them."

...

"Hello, Mr. Shepherd. How are you and the little ones doing? That well? Excellent. No other ghouls left in your group left, right? Good. And the shrimp tanks? Very good. We're still on for the ghoul extraction from the CCZ next week, with suitable residences already being sent you way. No, thank you Mr. Shepard."

...

"This is your one and only warning. Destroy the insect spirits or face the wrath of the Queen of Queens."

...

"Hello, this is Silla Trebheart. I'm with Sanctum, from a while back. Is Accord around? I want to check if he'd be interested in the mechanics of a multi-multi-universal commercial empire and city design and implementation. Oh? He's interested? Excellent. I'll get back to you with more details."

...

"Hello, Allenby. How are you doing? Everything cleared up with Lone Star? Great. Fantastic. You'll find that your offices power and utilities have been restored. The Umbrella Import Group thanks you for your cooperation. We might be looking for a formal alliance with... How very rude. ...His loss."

...

"Jessy baby! How are you? Aww, I love you too. Less than two weeks till we get married! Wow... I know... Say... What are you wearing right now? I'm on a break, it's late and have some time to... Talk..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Earlier in the day, 10:49 AM. Allenby's office in Caravan's offices. Suite 500, 2265 Occidental Avenue, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS.

Rather than immediately answer the dwarf's impolite question and agitate him further, I went up to his desk and tapped his computer with a single finger. I then sat at one of the seats in front of him, perfectly at ease. Some rather impressive information popped up in response to my questions to Ops N. My polite smile upgraded itself into a pleased smile.

"I'm Kia, Allenby," I finally replied, after I settled myself into one of his rather comfortable synthleather guest chairs.

"Great," he replied with a growl. "You know my name, I know your name, now get your fragging drekhole of a face off of my chair, out of my office, and out of my business. Or do I need to use smaller words, Kia?"

"A nice suggestion," I answered him after I acted through some faux contemplation. "Smaller words often help, yes. However, I've got a problem."

He snorted. "I don't give a frag about your problems, unless it is deafness. In which case I can gladly scream at you."

I ignored what he was saying and continued, "My problem is this: my team has been set up to be framed for your murder. We were promised a lot of nuyen for a simple investigation, but are already aware of a plan to silence all of us post frame-job. I don't like that plan. I don't like it all."

"What the frag are you talking about, you red topped corp wannabe drekface?" Allenby snarled, though his tone was reduced slightly in volume.

I ran a hand over my red spiked hair and flashed him a fuller smile before my face went all serious. I leaned forward and quietly began to speak. "Just earlier today, some Mr. Johnson hired us to investigate some things about you. He gave us a ten-thousand nuyen advance, with the promise of eighty-thousand more. Normally, this would have been a dream job." I paused, and he did not interject. He was curious enough to stay silent for the moment. "What we found out was that a decker was hired to insert some black ice into your simsense demo recordings, which would be played after we left. You'd be flatlined, and we'd be the scrapegoats."

"So I dump them, then," he said, and shrugged. "You want a thank you or something? Thank you. Now get out."

I sighed and shook my head in disapproval. "Allenby, this Mr. Johnson is just going to escalate. If indirect methods like this messed up plan don't work, he'll do more direct ones. Do you understand? Judging by a certain timeline, he has almost twelve more full days to attempt hits against you. What do you think the odds are for any of those wetwork teams to be willing to actually talk to you before they riddle your body with bullets?"

He snarled some dismissive sounds and swore under his breath for some minutes. When he calmed down to just below boiling point, he affixed me with a now familiar glare. "What then? You want me to hire you or some drek like that? Is that your plan?"

I nodded. "Frame-job and betrayal discount, Allenby," I replied with a brief smile. "The low, low price of one nuyen. Or is that too rich for your blood?"

He swore in my direction some more, but it was tinged with amusement. He ran his hands through the pockets of his suit, and eventually slammed down a basic credstick on the desk in front of me. "Nine nuyen, Kia. I'm giving you a nine hundred percent pay increase. You better be worth it."

I took the credstick and slipped it into a jacket pocket. "Thank you, Allenby. Now, to begin with, I'm assuming that you have gotten lots of death threats - perhaps even mild attacks and so on? It wouldn't be possible to narrow down the list of people that wanted you dead?"

He grunted some noises that sounded like agreement.

"Understandable," I said. "Now, I'm going to describe how the meet got set up. If anything about the people, vehicle, setting or so on brings up a memory, let me know."

More grunts followed.

"We were in the Blue Flame Tavern, enjoying a round, when two corps came in. They were dressed in impeccably tailored business suits. Very out of place there. Both of them were human males, one tall, slender, and dark haired, the other shorter, stockier and blond. They were wearing a large assortment of jewelery: heavy gold watches, rings and diamond ear-studs." I looked at Allenby, but he just shook his head. "At least one of them was a wiz shot with a throwing knife, and demonstrated that talent against the fragger that decided they were gonks and easy to rip off. The thrower tossed a five-thousand credstick to us, and we went with them. The ride was a Rolls Royce Phaeton, which took us to the downtown core of the sprawl."

I cleared my throat and gave the dwarf another look. He waved at me to continue.

"The stop was at Kobe Terrace Park, at South Jackson Street, just west of the freeway. Once there, another suit seemed to appear right from behind a tree. Our rigger confirmed that the area around us had seven more security personnel hidden in the bushes. He gave us some name, likely false, and dropped topics like The Shadows, tickets to the concert, yourself, your company - Caravan Productions, and spoke with quite a few 'ums,' as if to indicate he was hesitant in doing dirty business."

Allenby's eyes narrowed.

"The company name he mentioned was obviously a front, but maybe he wants to frame them as well. I think it was... Highster Incorporated? Or maybe Highstar Incorporated? Sound familiar?"

Judging by the shade of red the dwarf's face was going, it was very likely he was familiar with the company. "That man - that Mr. Johnson - what did he look like?" Allenby asked me in a voice like liquid murder.

"He was reasonably good looking, hard-faced, and impeccably dressed," I replied. "The only unique feature he had was a gold stud earring in his left ear, in the shape of a nuyen sign." I indicated the spot on my own left ear with a finger.

"What. Was. The. Name. He. Gave. You?" Allenby growled out, word by word.

"On the off chance that it isn't fake, sure," I said with a shrug. "The suit said his name was... Jonathan Teague. Do you know of it?"

His incoherent screams of rage were the perfect answer.

Hostile negotiation success, I thought. Now, all I have to do is prep him for some of the more 'exotic' processes that the Umbrella Import Group uses. I started cycling through some of the newer options of my Ares Predator infinity as I waited.

'Feign death' has some potential, I thought. Though it would need to be combined with some rather more extensive planning. I'll need the others as well, especially Ma'fan... Complicated, but fun for everyone…

2.7 - "The Cups Runneth Over"

Tuesday, October 30rd, 2057 (Shadowrun calendar).

"This is DJ Darco Smooth! Welcome, one and all, to yet one more show of mine. They just keep on going and going, don't they? Yes, they do."

"Today is a special day, but perhaps not quite as special as tomorrow - Halloween. Maybe there will be some extra guests on that spooky day, as every single ghoul in the Seattle Metroplex seems to have evaporated into thin air over the past week. On top of that, the inhabitants of Ghoultown - the ghoul-filled district of the former Chicago Containment Zone, if you did not know - have also up and vanished, less than half a week ago. Just as a reminder, that was where the much publicized Diaries of Tamir Grey came from. Here is to hoping that the ghoul in question is doing alright."

"Various media personalities are speculating on two likely extremes. One, a new ghoul army is going to storm metahumanity and consume us all in an orgy of blood and viscera. For shame! Don't you know that if they kill us all off, they too will die? Sustainability is key! Nibble here, nibble there. If they are organized enough to form an army, they are most definitely organized enough to form breeding farms."

"The other extreme is that the HMHVV has mutated into some flesh dissolving form, and the ghouls affected have dissolved or disintegrated into puddles of goo or piles of dry, flaky biological matter. Or... Maybe they have all fused together into some sort of amorphous, giant monster. Of ghoul flesh. It will eat all the ghouls first, then start on the other races."

"In the corporate news I feel like talking about category, there is the issue of the Renraku Arcology. It is now roughly one month since the first accident of any kind appeared there. What used to be a highly populated shopping centre, night life district and restaurant provider has gone rather... Strange... Lately. The execs have opted to embrace the chaos, and have invited a much lower class of shoppers to certain walled off areas. The new experience resembles some sort of low-key war-zone between desperate shoppers, insane gangers, and various squatters. The workers - if they can even manage to get out of their own residences - get to use malfunctioning equipment to make mostly broken products which get further broken in transit to the wrong location. Which are mislabeled and packed improperly... Personally, I think the execs like it. It must be the biggest tax write off ever. Good luck to them, and the Red-brownish Samurai that try to keep the peace."

"The Azzies continue to be insane nightmare sufferers. Nothing new there. Though not a single one has had any physical injuries, the psychological trauma must be at least the level of a sizable stack of paper-cuts."

"The UIG corporate owned Glamis Castle and property - still under it's very colourful, rainbow-like magical protective field - has gathered quite a lot of attention with a nightly spectacle. You may have heard it already from elsewhere, but the Wild Hunt has appeared inside there - every single night. Yes, folks - that's right. One of the very most feared collection of spirits the Sixth World has ever seen is patrolling the grounds of Glamis Castle. Every night. On a schedule."

"Let me put things into proportion for you. A normal corporation hires guards of piddling quality. As the value of the corp goes up, so too do the guards. At some point, 'piddling quality' becomes 'elite murder-death machine.' It counts with animals, too. The low tier starts off at trained attack dogs. Then it may move up the scale of various Awakened creatures. Throw in some high Force guard spirits if you have the mage-power to support it."

"Now these Wild Hunt spirits are a rather formidable deterrent. I'm guessing that you can tell pretty much any being, except a Great Dragon or two, that that castle's basement is actually full of gold coins by the roomful. Then, they'd look at the castle. The Wild Hunt. The energy field around it. Then back at you. The next question would be... 'HOW many rooms of gold would that be? Because if it's just two or three, I'm heading home now.'"

"The very protecting Lord Protector has used this as a wonderful reason to set up a patrol zone around the property. This lasted until the first set of soldiers took pictures of themselves with the Wild Hunt spirits - who POSED for them. Yes, folks. This isn't a comedy show. ...Usually. I'm serious here. You can literally go there and take a picture of the WILD HUNT POSING WITH YOU. That would be just like... A city of insect spirits doing a live theatre song and dance routine. Oh, wait - that was LAST month."

"So, those very protecting troops of the Lord Protector have now been turned into glorified ticket agents. While the facial expressions of those Wild Hunt members may have initially looked rather fierce, now they are more bored and resigned. Strangely enough, they should remind most parents of their little children when they don't want to do something. Kind of like 'oh, please just kill me now and get it over with already.' Then they come back the next night, slowly dragging their feet, hooves and paws across the property, once again."

"If this inspires any sympathy, please keep in mind the fifty-odd member mage mercenary company that attempted to claim Glamis Castle before them. They disappeared, and no - I do NOT think they went to a happy place."

"Tourists can also admire the lovely, rainbow coloured energy shield. Various magical orders have stopped by to assess and walk around it, nodding and mumbling as if they know what they are doing. Various attacks have been directed its way with no reaction, positive or negative. The one exception to that is that every successful breach has caused it to get STRONGER. If anything, I'd say that the whole castle is the most impressive showcase of summoning and shielding I've ever heard of. If they ever sell those services, I'm sure there will be a lot of takers."

"Why now, I can almost imagine the castle just popping out of the ground and floating in the sky. Ah... Please don't do that. It would be hard for the tourists to get up beside the shield to take pictures. Though if you had a rainbow bridge connecting it... Hmm... Never mind!"

"Speaking of demonstrations, the Cayman Islands are one such of another type. As I previously reported, a large number of massive structures had been growing out of them. What is exactly going on is no longer visible, as the enclosures have covered the entirety of the islands and are far from fully transparent. The Little Cayman and Cayman Brac have joined into one large enclosure. Between the small pair and the one bigger island, some sort of connection is growing. It all appears rather metallic and organic. Myself and many others hope that the greenery that was on the surface of those islands is still doing alright. Time will tell what these enclosures hold and of what nature this particular demonstration will be like. Various Caribbean League patrol boats are making extra sure to deter innocent pirates and smugglers away from the very well automated defences of this mystery."

"The Seattle Metroplex is thankfully devoid of such a visible demonstration. Instead, all residents get to appreciate an insect spirit free city, combined with a shortage of biting, stinging insects. The question would then be - are they being killed, or saved for future use? Something to think about when your house is surrounded by a trillion mosquitoes and you've tried to crank call the Queen of Queens. I really hope you have a Super Platinum contract with DocWagon."

"In other news, the Umbrella Import Group has announced one more named corporate employee. And guess who it is? FREAKING Art Dankwalther himself! Mister thirty-six point six BILLION UCAS dollar man! No mention has been made in regards to his personal finances, but he is labeled as the 'Director of Finances.' Congratulations, Art! You're in on one of the world's biggest mysteries."

"Silla Trebheart, the original director, has been more clearly labeled as the 'Director of Foreign Relations.' That implies that there is local and foreign, but nobody has told me which is which. Clues? Hints? I welcome all, callers!"

"Thats it for now, folks! Remember to keep on sending in those requests - lots have been sent out already."

"To reach me, count to a trillion backwards from infinity while speaking into live static, saying my name, DJ Darco Smooth, three times."

"Next time, I'll think about putting on some clothes before I speak out again with a combination of truth, humour and pain. Remember, folks: my bias is the best bias."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

9:44 AM, Same day. Invisibles Waiting Room, Sanctum. Mike/Sanctum's POV.

"Everybody here?" I asked the question more as a formality than anything else. They knew that, as everyone was here. The original core team of Ma'fan, Mutus, Winterhawk, Cayman, Kellan and Kia, combined with the newer members of Hardpoint, Gallowgrey and Mara Suhar. "Great. I'll begin, then."

Jessica passed me a small stack of paper with notes on it. We had worked on it together, along with Silla. The two of them were also here. I nodded my thanks to her and skimmed it briefly before turning back to the group. They were seated in the much used U-shaped couch, backed against the off-white, painted wall.

"In the relatively small short time you've all been working here, there has been some tendencies which I'd like to point out and formalize," I said, as I panned my gaze over the lot of them. "Note that these can be considered merely strong recommendations. If they truly go against your preferences, I have no objections against throwing them out. I've given you all rather a lot of leeway, and I see no reason to stop doing such now." I kept silent while I looked at them. Eventually, a number of nods followed.

"Thank you," I said. "To begin with, there is the rather obvious confirmation of two teams being better than one. I have yet to find a single situation where all your combined firepower is needed, and if such was the case - I'd be very concerned. So would you too, I imagine." I looked at my notes for a breath or two. "The other aspect is the particular strengths, powers and... How to say it... Archetypes I am trying to create among each of you, so that no single person can be universally superior. There is a rough divide among two categories, being direct combat and support, with Mutus, Ma'fan and Hardpoint blurring that line. On top of that, you have Mara Suhar and Gallowgrey, each with their own areas of supremacy." I caught Silla's attention and nodded.

"Thank you," she nodded back at me, then turned back to the group. "I'll now be going over general trends, observations and habits, areas of possible improvements and excellence. At the same time, Mr. Umbrella will be holding brief interviews to assess things more personally. Anything else?"

I stood up from my chair and turned back to them. "Given the absolute usefulness of personal hammer-space, I am extending that power to all of you in regards to one specific item that will be further bonded. My thoughts were along the lines of your single, primary weapon, but it could also be a bag or case of some sort." I straightened out and began to head to the small side office I've often used in here, and Jess followed.

...

Ma'fan, master cat burglar. Edited transcript. (R = Rainbow Umbrella, M = Ma'fan)

R: "How are you finding your particular specialties being used, Ma'fan?"

M: "That... Is open to interpretation, Mr. Umbrella. They are more being used in the thief capacity than what I would consider formal cat burglary."

R: "Understandable. I'd like to redefine your role among the teams."

M: "Into?"

R: "More along the lines of what you were originally working as - a solo operative. I'd provide you with a personalized vehicle with international reach, and have you more in a 'floating' role than one confined to any specific team. On top of that, I plan to expand both the capacity and item size limits of your hammer-space, and provide further means for your expertise and the resources here to mesh together."

M: "How absolute would such a requirement be? I'm not that solo anymore - you understand that."

R: "I do, yes. I'd prefer a total of six hours a day on average, which can include fulfilling requests by the other teams, your own solo activities, my personal requests, and so on."

M: "How about... Five hours?"

R: "If you want to play the numbers game, Ma'fan, we can go down to zero. I thought that this would be something you'd enjoy. Keep in mind that past those six hours, the multi-person capable craft is yours to use. For, say... A brunch for two in Paris, followed by an evening on one of our Cayman Islands' beaches."

M: "Well played, Mr. Umbrella."

R: "Thank you, Ma'fan."

...

Mutus, ethical assassin. Edited transcript. (M = Mutus)

R: "I'm aware that your particular lethal talents are not being employed on a regular basis. Is this something that you wish to change, Mutus?"

M: "Some deep and hidden part of me simply wants to ask Ops N to keep a live-updating overlay into my cybereyes of the criminal histories of everyone I see. The problem with that is that I don't think I'll ever stop shooting then."

R: "...Is that a maybe?"

M: "Perhaps. Right now UIG does not even have an accessible physical location to call it's own. When such a building is claimed, I'm sure that things will escalate - and even Kia and Kellan have agreed on some people not being worth passing to Noble Bones."

R: "Correct. And I'm trusting all of your judgements in that. What about your abilities? I know there was - at the minimum - some shock at the scope of Hardpoint's. He is eventually intended to provide space piloting and remote operation of all our crafts, but such may be scaled down if he proves unable."

M: "I'm used to my enhanced sight and rifle at this point. What were you thinking of doing?"

R: "Oh, more of the same... Hammer-space for your weapon, as I specified to the group, and a multi-layer, multi-depth penetrative view capacity. Basically, combine features of x-ray scanners, seismographs, ultrasound, etc - but allow you to do it in a linear line to the horizon, in steps, through various structures or to various depths. Your weapon would also be improved to allow it to target through such obstacles."

M: "So I could sit on a downtown building roof and snipe execs through their walls?"

R: "Yes, you could... But I'd greatly prefer if the whole 'don't shit in your own backyard' policy was followed, at least for now."

...

Winterhawk, gentleman mage. Edited transcript. (W = Winterhawk)

R: "Well, Winterhawk, it is unfortunate that this organization has not been as aggressively pursuing historical items of note as it could be. Are you still comfortable with that approach?"

W: "Yes, Mr. Umbrella. Kellan and myself are still going through the items we've gained from the lairs of Naheka and Dunkelzahn. That would likely take some more months, at the bare minimum."

R: "Really? Excellent. How about yourself? The 'mere' power upgrade I provided being sufficient?"

W: "More than sufficient, thank you. At some point, I'd like to develop my own initiation grade further, but you have provided a rather substantial boost to my current state."

...

Cayman, professional street samurai. Edited transcript. (C = Cayman)

R: "Hello, Cayman. I'm personally unsure of things with you. Apart from the core lead in a more 'direct' confrontation style group, I don't know what you want. Obviously, there was that list from way back, but I meant more here and now."

C: "The way I see it, you've got me playing the strongman role here. Literally, in the case of the power you've granted me."

R: "Yes, correct. Though others have tapped your expertise for explosives and more."

C: "Yeah. What I mean is - go further with it. It's like I can punch a hole in a tank, but can't take a single shot from it. That doesn't make sense to me."

R: "Understandable. I know of a number of boosts that would work... You do realize that while I can make you functionally invulnerable, there are rather a lot of intrinsic problems with that, and I don't intend to go quite that far."

C: "That's fine. I don't want to be stuck in a titanium casket in the bottom of the ocean for all eternity, either. It would really suck to be immortal and be stuck somewhere, right Rainbow?"

R: "...Yeah, Cayman. It would be. I'm... Glad I can help out a bit."

...

Kellan Colt, mage. Edited transcript. (K = Kellan)

R: "Hey there, Kellan. How are you doing?"

K: "Can't complain. I got research and spell development on site, and, apart from one notable doorway instance, I haven't been very close to death lately."

R: "Good! Hmm... What were your spells again... Ah, thank you, Jess. I know that you have been rather substantially out-gunned in the field, usually by Kia and Hardpoint."

K: "Yeah, I wouldn't want to be point, either."

R: "Right. Mages in the rear, that type of thing. How about I make some of your spells permanent on you? Or simple mental toggles, on-off? That you can do for others as well, as long as they stay somewhat nearby?"

K: "You... Can do that?"

R: "Sure, no problem! I should extend that offer to Winterhawk and Ma'fan, now that I think of it. Jess? Could you...? Thank you. Now... Looking at your spells... Astral Window, Detect Enemies, Detect Magic, Oxygenate, Spirit Barrier, Masking and Shielding should all be very easy with some tweaks. Maybe a few minutes after the meeting?"

K: "Ah..."

R: "That's a yes? Great!"

...

Kia, sharpshooter. Edited transcript. (K = Kia)

R: "Hello Kia. You seem to be doing rather well with slowed and stopped time. Haven't run through any monofilament wires, either. Good."

K: "That is... Possible, Mr. Umbrella?"

R: "Oh yes. Goes through you easier than a Thor Strike through air."

K: "I'd like a cybereye upgrade for spotting those, please."

R: "Smart choice."

...

Hardpoint, rigger. Edited transcript. (H = Hardpoint)

R: "Hello Hardpoint! Sorry you haven't yet hit one tenth of one percent of Ops N's performance using Shademech. Any noticeable progress?"

H: "A few thousandths of a percent once a week or so, Mr. Umbrella."

R: "Well... I have some gifts for you. Small drones, nick-named 'Motemechs.' They should fulfil your covert and remote monitoring duties easily. I'll start you off with ten, and you can be quickly moved up to about a hundred once you get the hang of them."

H: "Thank you very much, Mr. Umbrella."

R: "Still wearing MCT clothing? Any conflicts or issues in regards to that...?"

H: "They have been very nice about it, sir."

R: "If I made fart jokes, would you still address me so formally?"

H: "...Yes, Mr. Umbrella."

...

Mara Suhar, mantid spirit, reporter. Edited transcript. (M = Mara)

R: "Ms. Suhar? Hello? Helllloooo? Anybody in there?"

M: "Ah...!"

R: "Okay then... Jess? Please take this one over. I'll be in the next room. ...Maybe she needs to see that ex-demon couple for a while or something."

...

Gallowgrey, free tomb spirit. Edited transcript. (G = Gallowgrey)

R: "Gallowgrey."

G: "Mr. Umbrella, what can I do for you?"

R: "A few things. What is your current definition of 'acceptable' targets, in regards to protecting your 'children' and offering retribution?"

G: "From the lists you have given me, they would include organleggers, especially Tamanous; blood mages of all types; the astral beings and spirits called baba yaga, nomads and shedim; ghouls and gnawers, either feral or unwilling to change their nature to children-free sustenance; certain other innately hostile HMHVV infected beings, such as the wendigo, dzoo-noo-qua, and bandersnatch; and corps cadavre. As more creatures become known to me, I will keep you informed."

R: "Thank you. And our new guests from the Chicago Ghoultown?"

G: "I will wait, and watch, Mr. Umbrella."

R: "That's fair, Gallowgrey. The biggest question then becomes... How are you with being the sole spirit tied to the... Metaplane... Of Sanctum?"

G: "That is a big question, sir. I will tell you if I ever find out."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

12:09 PM. Dusty's Steak House, Everett, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS. Kia's POV.

We had another drekface for a fixer today. Not a major one - no betrayals planned or anything like that - he was merely being a pile of drek. This was done by the so-called 'Lovely Lyle' insisting on eating his own steak dinner right in front of us. Not even the slightest implication that he'd supply us with some. Not at all. Instead, he very explicitly stated the opposite.

Lyle had already finished off what looked to be a large salad before we arrived. The empty bowl that featured the sad, green remains was hosted on a large and solid looking oak table. It was placed beside a large pilsner glass full of beer. These were all registered in the seconds it took for him to signal us, after which we slid into the leather lined booth with him. He gave separate polite acknowledgements and continued to repeat his almost identical refrain, "You may help yourself to the bread, if you wish, but if you want to order anything, it will be on separate checks, of course."

The waitress was dismissed by him with a nod and smile, though she did hesitate a short while before doing so.

None of us bit at the bait of food. We had eaten before. As Lyle assumed that this was our first gathering together, I made sure to keep up the false front by some smiles and brief intros to Ma'fan, Kellan and Hardpoint. They responded the same way, though our silent inter-group chatter was a lot more amusing.

Our fixer took another bite of his steak and emitted a content sigh after swallowing it. "You too may someday partake of such a meal, once you have made a name for yourselves and garnered some cash - which is, of course, the purpose of this meeting!" Kyle made some more happy sounds as he chewed, and looked us over. "Are any of you students of history? Well, I am - I always had to study for my roles, of course. In regards to recent matters, I am particularly interested in the origins of those known as the Ninja. The ancient ninjas were more than assassins; they were also experts in spying and intelligence gathering, hiding their faces so they could blend back into their community without reprise."

He sipped some of his beer and had another bit of steak. His second piece remained on his fork, which he waved around for emphasis. "Now then, a new research facility has just been built, and someone wants to get as much paydata as possible on their operations, in case future incursions are necessary. If you are able to become like those ninjas of old and seek out this facility, you will be able to determine your own pay!" After that meat tipped fork was waved around, he finally ate it.

Lyle then pushed around some of those sad, little green remains and scrounged up enough to top off his fork. He ate it before he continued again. "The more information your delivery contains, the more compensation you will receive - it is solely dependent on you. If you feel that you are getting over your heads, you should pull out, and accept whatever reward you have accomplished. You should not let greed drive you into something foolish."

At least the ex-child sim-star has the vaguest sense of responsibility, I thought. It was immediately followed by, nope, he just wants to make sure that the security isn't breached and our report is still valid. I shifted around on the black leather bench of the booth.

"I hope that you will be able to strike a balance between obtaining the data which will provide you with a healthy reward, while minimizing risk to yourself and future missions." Another round of smiles were displayed, and he had some more of his steak. "How does this sound to you? You must realize that I cannot give you any more information unless you agree to undertake the mission..."

[G1-Kellan: Ma'fan, can you be the face for this fixer? Your talents will be more in demand than any of ours for this run., Kellan sent our cat burglar.

Ma'fan's nods served as agreement with both Lyle and Kellan. I followed with my own sounds of compliance, and so too did the others.

"Lyle," Ma'fan started, "Who is the run against?"

"The most important question indeed, Ma'fan!" He sipped some beer before answering further. "It is the new facility built and owned by Griffin Biotechnology. They currently operate out of leased spaces in the Huitzilopochtli Plaza in downtown Seattle." Lyle leaned towards her briefly. "Across from the rather imposing Aztech pyramid. Lovely view, but we all know that appearances can be deceiving, don't we? Yes, of course. They have recently outgrown their offices and need expanded research and development spaces."

She kept silent while Lyle had some more of his steak. I used the opportunity to relax further into these rather comfortable seats.

[G1-Hardpoint: Any objections to me scouting out target location while we continue here?, our dwarven rigger asked the group. The question would more sensibly be directed to Ma'fan, as she was the lead in this covert operation.

She made some generalized positive sounds, which Hardpoint echoed in his own way. The dwarf then showed me a handful of distorted air - one of the recently acquired Motemechs of his - which swiftly and silently lifted up and away.

"To be more exact," Lyle continued, "it is located at the end of 172nd Street." He gave more specific details, with the most prominent being that the site was located in north Everett, near the Salish border. "A large block of the property there was purchased by Griffin Biotech after they received a great influx of cash from DocWagon and other investors."

"Does DocWagon have any connection with Griffin other than as investors?" Ma'fan asked.

The fixer made some contemplative noises as he chewed. "I'm not sure of the exact details, to tell you the truth. My sources said that close to one hundred million nuyen were transferred over from, and Griffin Biotech has made a medical breakthrough, the details of which they intend to sell to those very investors. However," he paused, "that very development process will probably take over a year. It is highly unlikely that DocWagon has contributed any security or defenses - more likely something along the lines of a liaison officer or other junior associate. Their current security needs are supplied solely through Aztech, who owns their office space."

Ma'fan bought into the action with a nabbed piece of bread. She chewed it slowly.

I was thinking of how, with an unrestricted Ops N, we could have literally had all the information this Lyle wanted before we even left the table. It would then defeat the purpose of us, the teams, and so on - as Mr. Umbrella was fond of saying.

"So, Lyle," Ma'fan said, "what exactly are you paying us for?"

"Detailed information, Ma'fan," he said, with a smile. "More specifically, the layout of the facility, all defences and security, Matrix attributes, and anything else you'd find useful. Consider if you were handed only this very info that you gathered. Would you find it short, typical, or superlative? That is how it could best be gauged." Lyle then went into explaining the payment system for this run. We'd all get a base minimum fee, and there was a more than double top payout amount for extensively detailed information.

[G1-Ma'fan: I'll be able to do everything today, except for checking the active magical defences. Kellan - I'll see what the files have, and you can verify it tonight. Sounds alright, chummers?]

"Everything is complete, then?" Lyle asked us.

A round of agreement followed, and we headed out. Our first planned stop was back to base, where a few orders of steak dinners were waiting for us.

[G1-Ma'fan: We'll need to sit on the info for a few days to dampen any suspicions of how easily we obtained it.]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

4:27 PM. Silla's & Jessica's Suite, Sanctum. Director Silla Trebheart's POV.

"Moommm..." I whined again as she fussed around me. I was standing on a small stool, wearing tomorrow's wedding dress. My dear old mum - old being a relative term, given the rejuvenation methods available in the Earth Bet multiverse - continued to poke, prod and otherwise adjust this dress.

It, much like Jessica's I imagine, was the joint effort of three people: Mike, for materials and enchanting; Sabbah, for design; and Taylor, for production. The dress was a mix of spun carbon diamond threads, along with fine white silk and some other laundry list of magical properties nearly as tall as Taylor, no doubt.

"Shush," she said, as I saw the top of her shoulder length, golden blond hair covered head bend again in inspection.

The last time I saw her hair, it was nearly all grey or white. That was after the massed resurrections of Earth Bet, but before we had arrived at this Shadowrun place. Still, I put up with this because I was at least friendly with my parents, in spite of my 'lifestyle choices.' When the personality modification options became more widespread at the Dyson sphere and other planets, Jess' parents were overjoyed - their darling daughter could be straight! No longer an 'irregularity.' It didn't matter that even men could have natural pregnancies these days - as weird as that was, seriously - when her parents were concerned. They were practically space-age Amish, in how conservative they acted.

"Ziz," I whispered, and smiled. Nessi had assured me that Mike's favourite platinum angel was on the case. If anyone could get them to show up and not grumble, it would be her.

"You say something, dear?" My mom asked. Her youthful face could be of my older sister.

I was glad that it was older at least. Some seniors the worlds over had taken to rejuvenation with rather excessive vigour. From old-age diapers to infant ones. Talk about 'relieving your youth,' sheesh.

"Just thinking about an angel, mom," I said to her with a smile.

She hummed in contemplation and bent down again. My smile remained.

...

Elsewhere.

"This doesn't look like the antique convention on the Sphere, dear. I think we're lost."

"Nonsense! Let's ask this fine young man what's going on. You there! Where are we?"

"Good afternoon, gentle peoples. This is the Earth Bet multiverse check-in for the friends, guests and families of the couple to be married, Silla Trebheart and Jessica -"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

7:42 PM. The Greenery, Sanctum. Mike/Sanctum's POV.

"Hey there Bohu, Lady of the Greenery." I walked along the dense, jungle-like forest. Each step caused a path to unfold in front of me, and close off behind. I've been walking for a few minutes already.

Light vines and soft leaves moved to brush lightly against me as I continued onwards. Almost so suddenly it caused me to stumble, I went from heavy foliage to a large clearing. The only feature in this open space was a tree truck, covered with vines, leaves, flowers and fruits of all kinds, that was easily as thick around as city block or ten.

I stepped further into into the clearing, and made to lie down. Moss, branches, leaves and vines rapidly formed a bed beneath me as I moved. Settled, I stared up... And up... Into the sky and the face of the largest of my Guardians. Boris, the giant red-brown wonder dog, still qualified as number two. Bohu here - apart from the giant tree in front of me - was the whole very Greenery, spread over some tens of square kilometers. I keep on approving whatever expansion requests she gave me, as well as passed her plant-like lifeforms from every plane, planet and realm of science and imagination I could find. The only reason this place isn't infested with a mass of rodents, animals or insects is because this Lady doesn't want them here - any that show up are fodder for the plants, or under the direct control of Taylor. It is literally one of the quietest living forests in existence. So much so, that an attentive listener could, in truth, hear the very plants growing around them.

Two spot-light like eyes beamed down at me in a series of slow blinks.

I gave her a dual set of thumbs up and they then remained closed. The next thing I knew, small bulbs of light began to pop up all over the trunk and upper branches.

Wow, I thought, as I started to clap. The Lady of the Greenery is going as a giant Christmas Tree!

Thick vines squeezed me some few times in appreciation as I continued to applaud her. The next step in here would be to see what the 'natural cathedral' looked like.

Maybe a nap first...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Somewhere in Sanctum.

"We're getting more lost, dear."

"Don't say such things! Look... There are some nice people in costumes. Maybe they are gene-morphs, those are popular with the youth these days. Hello you people! Do you know where the buffet is? We're getting rather hungry."

"I donnae think the buffet is near here, greybeards. Yeh in the wrong place."

"See dear? Listen to the young lady with the pretty tail."

"Oy! Stop it with the tail business! I told you months ago, NO gene-morphs!"

...

"Chief? Who were those berks?"

"No idea, Morte. Maybe Rainbow knows."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

9:29 PM. Shadowmech, Everett, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS. Kia's POV.

"Kellan?" Ma'fan asked our blond mage.

She had just came back from astrally scouting Griffin Biotechnology and was blinking to clear her eyes. "It was as you said, Ma'fan." Kellan did a few shoulder rolls to loosen herself up. "There was a slight magical background count still pervading astral space everywhere inside the facility, as well as to either side of the main security wall. The wards were all in their assigned places, and Fat Bacteria has been stored in quite a number of the walls. It would be able to tag any astral visitors, if security were to use them."

Kellan frowned. "It took longer than I wanted to scout the place," she said. "No Knight Errant security forces on site today. Since they are only checking once a week, it must be some other day then."

"Wizzer," Ma'fan said. "That is everything we can get out of this site, apart from browsing through the memories of everyone there. Did you note the airlock to the high-tech labs?"

"Yeah," Kellan replied. "If we were to ever make a run against this place, our usual gassing method wouldn't work - unless we did it in sections, and controlled each sector before clearing the next while keeping them oblivious and their communications contained."

Ma'fan nodded in acknowledgement, and went over to Hardpoint. They talked quietly, and the vehicle started to move again. She reseated her self, and absent-mindedly said, "We already hit the hardest place. Now we'll just polish off the paydata with some external references." With that, she yawned and tilted her chair back. "Planning on going to the wedding tomorrow?" She said to the van interior at large.

I replied in the positive, and so did everyone else. This would be the highest level corp wedding I've ever attended. If the costume party aspect was included, it would be two firsts combined.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Somewhere in Sanctum.

"There is some fruit here, dear. Why don't we just eat some and relax? This place seems rather nice."

"Fine. You try it first, though."

"This is great! I wonder what it is. Never saw anything like it."

"Give it here. Hmm... You're right for once."

"I'm tired, dear. Can we just rest for a bit?"

"Fine. We'll stop because you have to, then."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Wednesday, October 31st, 2057. 11:03 AM. Main Lounge, Sanctum. Mike/Sanctum's POV.

"Accord!" I exclaimed at the sight of the short, masked man and his taller wife, Citrine. "You've... Changed your hair!" I can't remember what it was originally, but dark blue edging into black wasn't it.

"Greetings to you as well, Sanctum," he said with a nod. The cane in his hand barely shifted. "I believe you used to have a kitten on your head - and were male, if I recall properly?"

I shrugged and made a dismissive noise. "It's a costume party, all day long. If I can't change shape here, where can I?" Thankfully, my front-end counterweights were not that problematic. I've also managed to avoid the attentions of Jessica and Silla... For now.

"True," he replied. "Have you seen Myrddin? I believe he was looking for you, very eagerly." The contours of his mask shifted into a slight, small smile.

"Ah," I said. "Have I really been that deficient in sending problems your way, Accord?" I sighed, while I edged around behind the couple. "If so, I do apologize most dearly. Perhaps we could go over some of the issues I've been dealing with? Somewhere... Else?"

"Perhaps," he answered. "But then again - perhaps not."

The form of Citrine, in her own personalized mask of yellow trimmed with gold, moved behind the shorter man and briefly squeezed his shoulders. A step and a trailed hand later, and she was beside him once more.

"Could there possibly be something that would be of a sufficient inducement, Accord?" I asked him from my more defensible position between the couple and the nearest wall. A scan over the assembled crowds and clumps of people did not reveal my over-eager fan-boy. Then again, he was in costume, so who knows what that meant for him. Perhaps a suit and tie, or jeans and a t-shirt. I missed something Accord said.

"Pardon?" I asked. "I was preoccupied in my paranoia."

"Indeed," he said. "I was wondering if the restriction on Nessi still stood firm - to make a challenge even I couldn't solve."

I looked at the back of his head. "That depends on what you mean by could not solve, Accord. If you simply wanted an impossible challenge, I could create a scenario in which you couldn't pass by virtue of human or mortal limitations. The kind of things by which mere exposure would melt your very brains out of your head."

"Hmm," he replied. "That would be a most delightful way to depart this life, wouldn't it, dear Citrine?" He looked up at her masked form and she shook her head. "Perhaps not, then," he continued. "Maybe something more mundane. Do you have any such?"

"I have a rather large list, Accord," I said. "Would you prefer that we start with the multiverse inhabited by actual, physically incarnated gods, or the near-future corporate dystopia that has literal dragons in the boardrooms. Assuming that they change shape first, of course. Then there is my own personal issues, such as trying to create a multi-multiuniversal commercial empire and practical, sensible and low-key utopia city of my own."

His head nodded in approval. "You have some rather delightful circumstances here, Sanctum. I believe you will require my services for... Say... A good number of months. Maybe even some few years."

I sighed, then held out one of my hands as if to pat him on the back. I stopped when I realized that this was Accord. Citrine took hold of my hand and helped me with the actions. I rather awkwardly withdrew afterwards.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Accord," I began. "The Earth Bet multiverse must be exceedingly boring to you."

I saw no action from the back of his head. When I thought that he forgot the question, or was ignoring me, he spoke again, softly. "You have no idea, Sanctum. My Ambassadors have literally been reduced to rescuing animals from trees. It has its own sub-category now in my report documents, with options for the animal's species, its age and colouration. Bored? Yes. Yes, you could say that."

"Accord," I began, "It's not so much that I doubt you are able to solve nearly all of the problems I currently face, it is more that... I'm trying to get the 'locals' motivated to do them themselves, in regards to everything from the smallest task to the largest. I have to resist the temptation to make things excessively easy for them - or myself, truly. I've already made some inroads to local industries, as well as recruited a rather notable multi-billionaire and all his assets. Art, his name is, was also Ziz recommenced."

"That is not an issue, Sanctum," he replied. "It is simply one more variable to any problem I wish to solve. Besides which... Crouch, count to ten, and stand again."

I complied in my confusion. Only after I was standing again did I understand his direction - the back of whom I assumed to be Myrddin was heading away from us.

"I would call that impressive, except it would be insulting to one of your ability," I said. He acknowledged me with a nod, and I continued with, "Perhaps the first problem to solve would be of your living quarters?"

He waved that off with the gestures of his raised sword cane. "The guest quarters should be sufficient for tonight, Sanctum." His head turned halfway to look at me from the corner of his eye. "That is assuming that they are sufficient."

"I can have them as sterile as deep space and as luxurious as the finest hotels, so... Yes? I imagine so."

He made some pleased sounds and returned his gaze to the front.

"So... Sanctum."

"Yes... Accord?"

"I haven't had an extensive report of your power developments lately," he said, exceedingly politely. "Is this something that you wish to rectify... Or not?"

"Ah... There were things... With the gods... And... Mental breakdowns... Unspeakable horrors... You know?"

He made some understanding sounds. "Each and every one preventing you from accelerating time and giving you an extra decade or so to do whatever you want, whenever you want to?"

"...No."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah..."

"Perhaps you could work on that, then?"

"Yes, Accord," I replied. "I will do so."

"Delightful," he said. "No rush, of course, for such a trifling matter. Maybe a few months? A decade or three? Far be it for me to suggest anything to influence your infinite time amongst your immortality."

Accord is going to be a very interesting live-in guest, I thought.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

1:34 PM. Living Cathedral, The Greenery, Sanctum.

There were five of me active right now. Some power upgrade I've picked up some time - likely from the Sigil multiverse somewhere - allowed true hive-mind like consciousness. It was a substantially different experience from the divided trio self I had done in the past. I was used to it, yet at the same time... Not. Just one more thing to be amazed at in regards to Taylor and her constant four-natured self, I suppose. One of me was on Silla's side of the cathedral, another on Jessica's, one each in either of double brides-to-be... Ladies-in-waiting? Was that the correct term? No idea.

The last me was by the priestess. I had debated trying to do some sort of 'pulling rank' in order to get the goddess Lastai herself, but... Thought better of it. Her high priestess was most accommodating, especially after I mentioned my willingness to fund, design and build a whole new temple for their religion, in a region of her choice. Kind of like getting the pope to do your marriage, except that the number of religious adherents were not even breaking into the ten thousand mark.

One of the mes looked up at the sky. I had inserted a lovely multi-kilometer view of an exploding super-nova far above us. Everybody was congratulating me on the 'special effects.' All of the mes released a small laugh in reaction.

The ladies-in-waiting... And now that I think of it, that probably isn't the right term. Dammit. Yes, them, they were composed of a mix of friendly members of the Three Hundred, old Earth Bet friends of the couple, one of mes, and a slightly less tall pair of Ziz's. Yes, that is correct. They were now two of them, after she convinced me so wing-fluffingly that doing so was very important. I'm not going to argue with Ziz. I'm not that stupid, thank you very much.

The mes sighed, and the Taylors beside four of them gave them a pat on the back.

The music started, and what was likely the world's biggest Christmas Tree acted out her role as a flower girl. A light rain of flower petals fell over the entire assemblage, with a more heavy amount over the central path.

When the elder sleeping couple beside the me on Jessica's side breathed in the fragrances of the flowers, they woke up.

"You there!" The older woman whispered to a me. "What's going on? Where are we? Who are you?"

"Hello you two!" I replied, equally quietly. "This is the wedding of Silla Trebheart and Jessica... Now I feel really embarrassed. I don't remember her last name. This is my place here, and I go by Rainbow Umbrella. Pleased to meet you."

"You too, miss," the older gentleman said.

"Hey!" The older woman poked him in the upper arm. "This might be that wedding that nice young man mentioned at the door to the antique show! Jessica - our daughter Jessica! Marrying... Some... Not a man." Her last words were done in a low hiss.

"Yes, dear," Jessica's father sighed. "It seems that is where we are. Why don't we just not embarrass ourselves, alright?"

"Fine!" Jessica's mother grumbled. "Just don't embarrass me then!" She sighed, and looked around at the hundreds of people. "...I really hope there are free drinks afterwards."

The grey-haired man gave me a quick thumbs up, which I returned in kind.

"...I swear I had a bottle of gin in my purse somewhere, dammit..."

...

"We are gathered here today..."

...

"Jessy baby! I've dreamed... Some very interesting dreams about this moment and what happens afterwards... The night afterwards... I can only say that through the years spent with you, the only pain I've really ever had was when you weren't with me, and the only pleasure was when you were. We've continually redefined how great a couple can be and you're the best part of that to me. I don't know what more to say than you make me incredibly happy, and I hope you feel the same way too. Will you marry me?"

"Yes."

"Sils... I often imagine that your whole point of your existence is to show that everyone else is a distant second in comparison. That includes me, darling... This is another dream for me, where I can put those doubts aside as I stand beside you, say I love you and want to be with you - in whatever shape or position we may end up in, I want it to be close to you. I want to be yours, and you to be mine. Will you marry me?"

"Yes."

...

"...and with the grace of the Goddess Lastai, the laws of the land, and the authorities of Sanctum, I now pronounce you bride and bride. You may kiss each other."

...

"...You may also stop kissing each other. Seriously. C'mon. ...We're on a schedule, you know? Well, at least I am. ...Rainbow Umbrella? That better be a big temple."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

2:54 PM. Main Lounge, Sanctum. (Unspecified POV)

Two platinum angels, white winged, larger than the majority of the people they stood over, looked at each other. If they had words to speak, or sign language to use, it would be one, single, ominous word: Now.

With that thought - that unuttered word - two small, hard candies fell, almost in perfect unison. They began to roll.

...

A bottle of alcohol gets dropped, whole, into a punch bowl by accident, after an elbow nudged an arm with a loose grip.

...

"Here comes the bouquets!" We threw them back over our heads in unison, not attached to where they landed.

...

We've been friends forever, but I don't know if she is interested in me --

"Whoa! Sorry about my... hands!" I could only look on in horror as those appendages instinctively tightened around her chest and we began to fall. Just like we've done in drill tens of thousands of times, I flipped her over and made to take the impact full on my back. The cushioned floor was strangely welcoming, and the expected slap didn't come. Instead, a breathy sigh was heard. I opened my eyes... And she kissed me.

...

Cushions get scattered as a dance step changes a few inches to the side in response to a small, bright reflection.

...

"Personally, I think the gauss auto-rifles are far superior set at zero-point-two than zero-point-one-nine. Furthermore, for grip options..." He droned on and on.

Some dust fragment or another went into my eye and I couldn't clear it with blinks. I tried rubbing it out, but it remained. He still kept droning on. Just... Just...

"SHUT UP!" I shouted. "I don't give a FUCK about GAUSS AUTO-RIFLES! I like lasers! LASERS! Dammit..."

"Really? I thought you liked them," he said. "That's why I tried to learn about them more. I'm more of a laser person myself, too. I'm sorry if it bothered you. Ah... Here, use my handkerchief."

"Thanks... That's alright... Um... Do you have a... Favourite pulse interval?"

...

A red-haired, tail woman complains about that very tail. The man beside her professes his love for it... And her... And she believed it, just a little bit more than the time before.

...

A distracted person ran into a woman wearing a fancy dress holding a drink. It spilled on her and she cried. Not knowing any better, he cried too. She pulled him under the nearest table.

...

A grey and green stony creature kept still and made mental notes as pieces of clothing were tossed onto him.

...

An ill-timed fart at just the wrong moment was enough to break up an on-again-off-again painful relationship that lasted for years.

...

A pair of seniors, both single for decades, let out heartfelt sighs at the same time. They laughed at each other and started up a conversation.

...

A giant reptile-like humanoid bumped a giant, frog-like creature. It bumped him back. They were happy.

...

A masked man who believed himself to be a grandmaster of problem solving stepped to the left with a smile. There was no left. He fell, and a masked woman caught him. "I love you," she said. "I know," he replied. "And I love you too."

...

A couple sighed as they examined a rainbow topped woman and an identical set of four daughters. By some slight chance, they caught sight of an exchanged smile between those five strange individuals, and viewpoints set in stone loosened in their mortar.

...

A brother kept his eye on his sister as she pawed her two older boyfriends. He took another swig of his drink and turned around. He avoided bumping into the woman that crossed his path, but she didn't have that skill.

...

A pregnant woman somehow gave birth in under ten seconds. It was utterly pain free, and accompanied with the most intense set of multiple orgasms she ever had in her life. She would end up having lots of children, each loved very much.

...

A gentleman dressed as a skeleton hung awkwardly around his daughter. She was dressed like a dryad, all leaves and ivy. The bones seemed alive, and so too did the plants. He sneezed, and let out a small laugh. "I just want you to be proud of me some day, Amelia," he said. "I am right now, dad," she replied.

...

An over-eager magic-obsessed fan-boy spotted the rainbow topped object of his interest. Oblivious to where he was walking, he accidentally bumped into a couple. She had a tail and an accent, he had a few thousand years of wizardry experience. A fan-dom was shifted.

...

A floating skull bumped into a rather muscular woman dressed like a naughty high-school student while muttering something about 'tentacles.' She pulled out some uncensored, full colour, graphic novels from her hammer-space and showed it to him. They sounded very excited together.

...

A newly employed, intoxicated ex-billionaire lamented the corporation that abandoned him and cursed it to destruction. A surprise guest gave him her card and said to call her. The initials on the card were J and Y.

...

The most adorable tiny little kitten in existence, dressed in black plastic, breathing heavily and telekinetically manipulating a functional light saber, swore undying brotherhood to his flying companion. It agreed wholeheartedly, and they went off to find out how drunk they could get.

...

A swearing female dressed in the costume of a monkey used a stealthed banana cannon to fire into the crowd. An irate high priestess stalked out of said crowd, and began to sternly lecture her and the ape-dressed man beside her. They paid rapt attention to her words.

...

A female designer paired with her spouse looked at the chaos around them and laughed. She set some threads aloft and added to it, while her partner nuzzled her neck.

...

A sharpshooter that could slow and stop time danced with a blond mage. Twice.

...

A certain short, balding and less than ideal weighed man reached for the last mini-hamburger. It was contested by an equally shewed woman. They began to insult each other in creative ways to see who had the rights to acquire the mini-burger. They didn't notice when somebody else stole it.

...

A young blond woman with amazing intuition looked around her and laughed, and laughed, and laughed and laughed until she could laugh no more. She needed that. She really did.

...

A golden haired, winged succubus whispered to herself about being happy, and not having to follow in her sisters footsteps. A pamphlet about alternative sexual preferences fell near her, with the page opened to 'asexual.'

...

An elderly woman accompanied by a equally old man has a large glass of spiked punch. It pushed some internal limit in her over the line, and she shouted to the world at large: "I'M A CLOSET HOMOSEXUAL!" It is followed by a much quieter, "I know, dear. I know."

...

An attractive, rainbow haired woman stretched out her arms in a yawn. She caught two bouquets and was only surprised for a few seconds.

...

This process repeated itself a few hundred times over... And over... And over again.

If those platinum angels could talk - could describe their amused reaction to the continually forming chaos all around them - they might say something like this: Still got it.

2.8 - "Immobile Doors Meets Unstoppable Boots"

9:13 AM. Friday, November 2nd, 2057 (Shadowrun calendar). On approach to the Shattered Temple, Lower Ward, Sigil. Raymond's POV.

"Psst! Chief!" Morte loudly whispered to me.

"Yes, Morte?"

"Something is going on," he said. "Watch the crowds."

I did. The further I spied into the temple neighbourhood, the larger the crowds appeared. As we all carefully elbowed our way through the teeming masses, talk of something rather significant underway at the temple drifted around us.

The streets around the Shattered Temple have always been alive with people of varying backgrounds and intents, but even I can't remember a time when they were literally thick with purposeful bodies like this. The time a past me opened the Doors to the Lower Planes doesn't count. What's more, this mass of bodies - some who looked more than a little crazy - were heading towards the Shattered Temple. I have no idea why they have such wide smiles, bright eyes and kept on emitting a constant buzz of anticipation.

"A lot of the Lost don't look particularly happy, Raymond," Fall-from-Grace said.

It was true. Much more than one person in the crowd were wearing the faction symbols of the Athar. Some kept moving with the living tide towards the temple, while the more miserable looking ones tried to fight it. Their sense of urgency and purpose was pointless in face of such a large press.

I could hear the odd snippets of conversation as we were swept along. They seemed to blur together, but the refrain and common messages were the same.

"There's lawless talk and wild predictions being tossed at the temple."

"A dwarf preacher?"

"Aoskar!"

"Illegal!"

"Breaking the law?"

"Deadbook for sure!"

Eventually, the living tide carried us to the crowded street beside the temple. Much like it has always been, the majority of spectators refused to enter the ruins themselves. Whether it was through superstition or genuine fear, not one person choose to step the actual temple grounds. At least I could see what all the commotion was about - a dwarf, standing upon a crumbled pillar. The shape of the ruins and tumbled down walls helped reflect his voice.

"The time of the Four Doors is at hand!" Shouted the filthy dwarf. He wore the rags of a beggar, though his eyes were bright and clear. In a stark contrast to his clothing, he seemed to have a sense of peace and compassion around him. No confusion or distortion was present as he spoke. "These are the doors that are gone but always here, present but rarely accessible, the doors to the unknown places," he continued.

The crowd continued to swell around us. A liberal application of elbows, knees and, in the case of Morte and Annah, artful cursing and the odd bite, ensured that we stayed together in some form.

Since the dwarf seemed to be repeating himself, I decided to have us drift through the throng. Maybe some people would have a better idea of what this all is about. I could always ask Rainbow at some point, too.

The first thing that caught my eyes was a small group of Athar faction members. They were observing the proceedings from a spot just inside the ruins, though not in close proximity to the dwarf himself. Among the six of them that wore the symbol of the Lost were an elf, a human wizard, a bariaur fighter, and a richly dressed human female. All of their faces were in various states of displeasure or anger.

"Where are the Harmonium bashers I sent for?" the elf asked, as he scowled at another cheer heard from the crowd.

It evoked more of a wince than anger from me, as it was very loud. Annah's curses were especially vindicative to the idiot that all but yelled out beside her.

"I see a few gathering nearby, Coranthol," the female human assured him, "but you know they don't keep a large force here in the Lower Ward."

I positioned myself so that I could hear the group of six without obviously staring at them. My companions settled around me and did likewise, to varying degrees of success. Nordom probably fared the worst, as I could easily picture him clearing a swath of bloody corpses all around him. It would get the Lady's attention in very short order.

"That's a soddin' understatement," the bariaur spat. "They won't lift a mace or crack a skull until there's a soddin' army of them on hand - and that won't happen until they can break bashers free of their duties in the other wards."

"They'd better hurry, or the Lady herself might take notice," the wizard added. "I certainly don't want her shadow falling on me. What do you plan to do with the dwarf when this is over, Coranthol?"

"Do you really need me to tell you that?" the elf said to the the wizard as he gestured to me. "You there, go fetch a Harmonium patrol for me!"

A request to fetch some ill-tempered metal-heads? What a honour!, I thought, and turned to the elf. "Of course, cutter," I replied with smile. I then grabbed Morte and brought him close to face. His floating eyes seemed rather surprised by the action. "Morte," I began, "this elf cutter here wants us to get a Harmonium patrol for him. Since we are such law abiding citizens, I thought we'd oblige. Understand?"

"Ah... Yes chief!" the skull said.

"Great to hear that," I said, and then held him over my head as far up as I could. "Tell me when you see some, alright?" A muttered acknowledgement was my reply. I slowly angled the facing of his skull around me.

"Found the barm... Er... Bashers, chief," Morte said.

With that, I wound up my arm and threw him as hard as I could in that direction. His battle cry of "For tentacles!" was rather strange, and not in the slightest appropriate.

"Nice distance, skull!" Annah shouted after him. There was no reply heard.

"Annah?" I began, as I talked especially casually to her. "I have a certain type of job for you."

"Right," she said, and moved just a little bit closer to me. Her tail closed the rest of the distance and wrapped itself around my thigh. "What are yeh thinking?"

"A certain preachy dwarf might exit rather quickly," I said, and my eyes flicked towards the direction of the pillar-top dwarf. "There might be some interference with his exit, or it might go too well. If he could be obtained... Invisibly... We might get more of a story. What do you say?"

"Alright then," she replied. "I'm going for a wee stroll. See yeh at Rainbow's." Her tail disengaged as she stepped away. She turned back briefly and said, "I'll haunt yeh if the Lady's shadow falls on me for this, yeh know."

"You'd be the best haunt ever, Annah," I replied with a smile. I heard a half-way amused sound from her as she disappeared into the crowd.

The dwarf continued to leap among the pillars. His refrain had changed - new content was being spoken, and I listened more attentively.

"Who knows the dark of these doors?" the dwarf asked. "Who has the power to open them? Only one blood knows these doors. Only one blood can open them! On the day this blood opens the Four Doors, the multiverse will shake and shudder, the Cage will be unlocked, and the Lady will cry out in anguish and pain!"

Oh dear. Suddenly, Annah's words about not catching the Lady's shadow were a lot more substantial. Judging by the gasps around me in the crowd, a number of people agreed with me. Or me with them, as the case may be. Excited voices also swelled up among the masses here.

Morte came back right about then, and he indicated a newly swelling crowd of Harmonium fighters at the crowd's edge. I directed the attention of the elf named Coranthol to them, and he flicked me a platinum coin.

Big tipper for a small elf.

The dwarf quieted the crowd with a shout. "This is no bob," he exclaimed, "and I'm no barmy from Harbinger House! See the dark of it, 'cause tomorrow starts on the day the Fourth Door opens!"

"It's Fell! Let me through! I don't want to be near him when the Lady's shadow passes!"

My attention was diverted to a ripple in the crowd. A number of people were moving away from a dabus that was not floating as their species was wont to do. Fell, I thought. What is he doing here? Moments later I realized that it must be the topic of the dwarf's preaching. Maybe he knew something about these 'Four Doors.' I attempted to position my self in his path, and succeeded only in time to catch him as he tripped.

Thank you, the picture-symbols floating above his head read. He gave me a brief bow in recognition, and made as to continue deeper into the crowd.

"Fell?" I hailed the walking dabus, and he turned back.

"If you know something about these 'Four Doors,' I'd like to hear about it," I said. "Could you stop by Rainbow's later today?"

Rainbow Umbrella storekeeper's place? I will go there, his picture-symbols read.

I thanked him with a small bow of my own, which he returned. Seconds later, he was lost in the crowd. Fall-from-Grace and Nordom seemed exhausted by the constant fending off of people. It was likely only her wings, and all that signified, that prevented some drunks from pawing her amidst the press of the crowd. Two such were bariaurs, the centaur-like folk of the planes.

They were notably sodden drunk, and had their attention focused on a loud-mouthed halfling. The only thing the halfling was doing was making them more angry.

"That dwarf's as barmy as a bell snail," the halfling shouted, as he poked an elbow into one of the bariaur's legs. "You'd think he'd know better than to talk treason right where the Athar could hear him!"

"Maybe he believes what he says," one of the bariaur snarled. "Yeah," the other agreed with a loud belch. "What's it to you, half-grown?"

"Halfling," the halfling corrected automatically, "I was just pointing out, my foul-smelling friends, that you shouldn't tease a vorr in its cave."

The half-sized barmy continued to be rude, not in the slightest paying attention to the sodden pair drawing their weapons. I did, and positioned my self closer to the set of eight hooves. A pair of skulls thunked together later, and I had a rather shame-faced halfling who looked up at me. He muttered an embarrassed thanks, and shoved a... Modron cube into my hands?!

"Hey, Morte!" I showed the skull the new toy. "Look! I got another one! Your favourite little toy!"

"Right now," he replied, "I mourn the lack of hands and feet for no other purpose than to grab that and stomp on it until nothing remains." Some teeth chattering followed.

"Who's a fearsome cubed warrior?" I said to the little toy, as I moved it's arms around. "You are!"

"Attention: Director Raymond," Nordom said, "Query: Is Nordom a fearsome cubed warrior?"

"Absolutely," I replied, then pointed to the little toy. "This little one here is a much, much smaller cubed warrior. You're much larger and far more fierce."

"Response: Gratitudes!" he said, and his blasters clicked in approval.

Thankfully, nobody in the crowd paid much attention to us. Fall-from-Grace humoured me with a polite smile and we drifted away from the downed bariaur pair. I stored the small toy in my hammer-space soon after.

The dwarven preacher continued with a new line of proclamations. "One door for relics..." he blazed from atop the broken pillar. The rest of his words were lost when a young half-elf climbed up onto a heap of garbage near him. That pointy eared youngster looked like he had been dropped on his head too many times as a child - he had a burning passion in his eyes, one usually reserved for the enlightened, the insane, and the plain stupid.

DJ Darco was right, I thought. Stupid people are everywhere.

"I believe!" the youth shouted, not caring that his interjection cut off the very reason for his 'belief.' "Aoskar, I will serve you! Garmundi, I will follow where you lead!"

Correction - make that INCREDIBLY stupid people. Only newcomers don't know that the worship of Aoskar is punished by death here, and those very newcomers would have no reason to do so in the first place. This was demonstrated by a huge basher who displayed the colours of the Red Death. Otherwise known as Mercykillers, they reveled in so-called 'just punishment.' He pushed through the crowd towards the youth.

"You have admitted your guilt," the armoured man proclaimed. "I'll administer the punishment."

I quickly scooped down and palmed a small pebble, and readied myself to whip it as hard as possible against the helm of the Red Death member.

As the massive, red armoured figure raised his halberd high, he suddenly crumpled face-first into the ground. Before the youth could cheer his own good luck, he too crumpled - but could not hold his lunch. He own face-first action was into a pile of his own vomit which covered the garbage pile he was standing on.

Annah's use of invisibility can be rather inventive, I thought. At least nobody died this way.

Garmundi, as I had just discovered was the name of the preaching dwarf, took the time to speak again. "One door for relics, forgotten and discarded," he continued. The dwarf's eyes were no longer as calm as they were earlier, and he instead kept them moving among the scowling Athar members and the gathering Harmonium armoured fighters. "A second door for powers, set aside and lost. A third door for mysteries, waiting to be freed. A fourth door for reality, to tie them together and reveal the path to tomorrow's better shores."

It might have been a trick of the light, but after the dwarf finished his description of the doors, I managed to get a good look at his face. Besides the dirt, grime and whatever the smeared mess that resided in his matted beard was, his exposed forehead had a colourful tattoo on it. It was the picture of an elaborate key, with the pommel shaped like a glowing door frame that bounded a black field of silver stars.

About that time my attention was again redirected to the group of Athars from earlier. The elf, who now obviously came across as the leader of the band of six, raised his hand. It must have been a signal to the Harmonium fighters, as a loud-sounding horn rang out across the area. Waves of armoured Harmonium members started to advance into the crowd. They began grabbing, arresting, and otherwise shoving anyone in their way. However, the majority of their forces were clearing a path straight for the dwarf preacher.

Their heavy handed actions, paired with heavier clubs, spread panic through audience. A minor riot resulted.

Time to head to Rainbow's.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

9:36 AM. Sigil Waiting Room, Sanctum. Mike/Sanctum's POV. Disposable time-line.

"Did you enjoy sleeping in, Ray?" I asked the tan-skinned man in his ever-present mithril scale armour.

He cautiously checked to see whether Annah was in sight, and quietly said, "Yeah. Very much so."

I grinned in reply and passed him a business card. "This came for you from Kylie just recently," I said, then sighed. "This might be rather sudden, but I'd really prefer if you just head out to Thames office as close to immediately as possible. Keep me constantly updated about what happens, and I'll get in touch with you via portals if you leave Sigil. Fair?"

"You're right, it is rather sudden," he replied, as he looked over the card. "Can you at least say why?"

"Fine," I sighed out the word. "But I'll write it down in our linked journal on the way. Very important, Ray!" I waved a hand at the table the couch surrounded and caused a series of travel-packaged rations to appear. "This may not make much sense until you read what I send you, but it is very much done for your sake."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

10:43 AM. Linked exchange journal messages.

Rainbow: Just got pulled into a portal in Thames' office. Thames' himself was injured earlier by some thugs that jumped him - he's resting up. Estavan was waiting on the stairs, and wanted me to recover a ledger for him from some thieves. Looks like a mountain of junk here, with tons of it turning into featureless metal. -Ray

Ray: I got your position locked on and can portal there any time. It is the Plane of Acheron, the layer of Thuldanin. One of the iron cubes that is completely sealed and self-contained, from what I can see. Might as well skip the ledger for now. Ready to come back and try the Second Door? -Rainbow

Rainbow: Two minutes... How is the main time-line me taking all this? -Ray

Ray: I don't know - he hasn't come back yet. He left earlier than you did. Can you understand why I keep the disposable time-line such a secret? -Rainbow

Rainbow: Yeah, I do. Such potential uses! Even the 'merged me' kept it a secret. I'm glad its for my sake, at least. -Ray

Ray: I can say this now... I'd seriously fuck up this multiverse if anything happened to you, you know that, right? The small amount of friends I have just means that they are more valuable to me. -Rainbow

Rainbow: Hey - don't kill any gods on my account, Rainbow! -Ray

Ray: No promises. Heh. -Rainbow

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

11:09 AM. Proximate to the Thuldanin (Second Layer of the Plane of Acheron) in a Generic Brown Room, Sanctum. Mike/Sanctum's POV. Main time-line.

I gazed through this newly created portal in wonder. I knew of Acheron - it was a plane filled with giant iron cubes, continually floating around and smashing into each other. Their size varied from smaller than a clenched fist to as large as small moons. Some of them hosted cities and civilizations, either on their surfaces, in their interiors, or both. Contact between the peoples of different cubes nearly always resulted in violent, large-scale warfare.

What I was looking at was the hollow interior of one of those cubes. It appeared as a huge cavern with metal walls and mountains of strange items. Zoomed in views showed that the majority of those mountains were made of the same iron-like stone that the walls were made of. By my best estimation, it was a junkyard of some sort. However, since this place was normally not accessible from the multiverse at large, anything that ended up here and did not undergo the transforming curse of Acheron would be rather... Special.

I grinned an extra large grin, and created a score of portals within sight of this one. They soon began to sort through the iron-like stone heaps for the rare treasures within.

...

The first item to process was the very bounded space and portal Raymond had used to enter this plane in the disposable time-line. It appeared as a great iron arch that stood freely in a clearing of the junkyard. It rose some twenty feet into the sky, and was made of a twisted column of black iron some three feet in diameter. The open space between the arch spanned a width of over ten feet. There were no markings or features on it, except for many tiny red gems embedded in the metal.

I trailed my hand over the surface of my Domain border. It was stiff and resilient - I can't expand my Domain through such a temporary means. I backed up the end point of the portal I was using to examine the iron arch, and created another one above it. That new portal quickly dropped down and up again, which made the arch appear to briefly disappear.

An inner consultation revealed what it gave me - a possible upgrade to my Gates and Portals. Based on preventing any spells similar to warp sense - a wizard spell that that detected gates or portals, active or not, and helped to discern the end location and possible portal keys - it would do the same thing to all of mine, if I so wanted.

I did.

With a push that drained me of what was likely over a month's worth of granted boons, all my current and future Gates and Portals were upgraded. They would now never be detected as gates or portals, would prevent scrying to find out where the other end went, and were blocked from determining if any sort of portal key was required. I repeated that to myself mentally a few times in glee.

Somebody could literally have one of my portals bisecting them in half, and they wouldn't be able to magically determine it IS a portal!

Please tell me this is awesome, head-mate!, I thought into my shared mind-space.

It is very awesome, Mike-ster, she replied in kind. Do you think they will have any interesting artifacts?

Likely some, I thought. This find was literally STEP ZERO into the very first door! Are you okay to go mega-dumpster diving with me?

Sure!

With a snap of my fingers, my beloved gynoid's chassis appeared. Her bronze skinned form contrasted beautifully with her the faint blue glow of fiber optic hair, and a familiar rainbow styled body suit finished the look. Another gesture created a couch for us, and we sat down. Ladies first, of course.

"Any guesses on what we'll find here, Nessi?" I asked her, as we rested comfortably together.

"At least one magical bomb," she replied. "It seems like there are always magical bombs in places like these. Its just a question of how big and how powerful they are."

"Let's find out!" I took hold of one of her bronzed hands and sped the portal viewpoint around. We didn't have far to look, as there was a pillar of petrified junk right opposite the portal archway. It had a large, frozen gargoyle on top of it. Made of gray stone - and that caused a flinch reaction upon me sighting it - the statue was about twice the size of a human. It's face resembled that of the picture on the business card.

"There is a red gem in it's chest, Mike-ster," Nessi said, as she pointed to the center of the gargoyle. She patted my leg reassuringly. "Don't worry, I'll just try to grab it through the portal, okay?"

Thanks, I thought.

I moved the Portal closer to the grey stone gargoyle. It didn't appear to be granite, and I breathed a substantial sigh of relief. Nessi reached through the opening with both her hands, and easily removed the blood-red gem. It lit up my hands with a red glow as I examined it. The inner fire within did not change in regards to any poking or prodding, and remained the same as it was within the chest of the gargoyle.

"Mike?" Nessi said tentatively.

"Hmm?" I replied, absent-mindedly. "What's up?"

"I.. Can't get anything off that gem," she continued. "It is another blank, like... God-tier blank."

My shocked "Oh" happened at about the same time the inner image of the gem revealed itself. The source of the flame looked like the Lady of Pain icon, though a red sun burned where her face would normally be, and the bladed headdress appeared as the sun's sharp rays. I carefully placed it on the couch beside me and scooted closer to Nessi.

"Any word from Ziz?" I asked her with a half-whisper. My eyes remained locked on the blood-red gem.

"I'm getting lots of positive wing-fluffing," she replied. "Maybe it is important that we keep it? It looks somewhat like the tiny red gems in the portal archway as well - probably functions as a portal key for it."

"Right," I replied, as I cautiously poked the gem with a finger tip. No mysterious bladed lady popped out of a portal to flay me with her shadow. I hunched down a little bit regardless. After a few more minutes of cautious poking, I decided it was safe enough and stored it in my hammer-space. "I hope that that was the most exciting thing there."

Nessi gave me a half-hug of reassurance. I sighed with a small sense of relief, and directed our viewing Portal onwards.

...

We went through one low-powered flying craft, a petrified thug, a pile of low-grade magic weapons and a trio of rust monsters before we found the fireball bomb. It was a long, lozenge-shaped case with a jewel-encrusted metal exterior. It sparkled rather prettily.

"Are you mundane or wizard?" A newly created mouth on the side of the device said.

"It's a bomb," Nessi said, as she poked the case.

"Are you mundane or wizard?" It repeated.

"Powerful?" I asked, as I examined the jewels. "It's scanned, too, right?"

"No and yes," she answered.

I nodded, and held up the bomb between us. "Wizard," I told the case.

"Enemy mage targeted, commencing countdown: Five... Four... Three... Two... One..."

Unfortunately, I blinked and missed the explosion. Nessi offered to show me a slow-motion replay, but I didn't feel like it. It just wouldn't be the same. A wave of my hand restored the singed surface of our couch, and we continued to look through the junkyard.

...

A large gearwork golem was wielding a huge magic pike against some thugs. I pulled them in a portal directed to Khonsu and Levi, while the items of significance went into my hands and then, shortly after a comprehensive Nessi-inspection, my hammer-space. They consisted of a some strange, three-foot long cylinder of translucent crystal, filled with some liquid mercury and Estavan's ledger.

The bound book was a large volume, big enough to fit across a pair of open hands while closed, and covered with a silver-scale based skin. The very same gargoyle icon was in the lower right hand corner. Despite it's pristine appearance, it was thousands of years old. The ledger had multiple records of all the blink cycles - the five hundred year intervals of which the Four Doors appeared - along with the various attempts to discover the keys to using them.

"Nothing that we can use it in, head-mate," Nessi told me, after she had skimmed through the pages. "That crystal cylinder was more interesting."

I agreed with a mumble as I directed the Portal's endpoint towards another significant feature. There was a mountain of junk that rose almost to the top of the cube's distant ceiling. The age-old garbage that composed the heap had been worn down to such a degree that the iron-like stone was entirely smooth and featureless. The two exceptions to the uniform smoothness were a series of what I believed to be dabus picture-symbols on the side of the mountain - I had no clue what they were, as I tend to rely on the Domain based translating feature far too much - and a staff embedded in iron stone on the mountain's summit.

Our view zoomed in far enough that the features of the staff stood just a hand's span beyond the Portal. We looked at the seven-foot high pole, and I'm not sure which of us gasped first. It jutted out of the iron-like stone from the tip of the mountain. It was an ornate staff of some unusual blueish metal. Blades radiated along the staff's shaft, which jutted out in patterns similar to those decorating the headdress of the Lady of Pain. A hand was affixed upon the top of the shaft, palm up, it's long, delicate fingers wrapped around a perfectly round, smooth sphere of deep-blue stone.

"Ah," I said.

"Mmm-hmm," Nessi replied.

"Ehhh?" I asked her, with my eyes still locked on that blueish staff.

"Ahh..." She answered me.

This series of incomprehensible babble continued for a short time. I think I said the first real words, but I couldn't be absolutely sure. "Nessi, dearest head-mate... What does Ziz say about me acquiring that particular staff?"

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," she replied. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see her head tilted my way. I didn't say anything else, as I remained focused on that bladed shaft. Almost horrified by her own words, Nessi slowly said, "Ziz... Really wants you to get that staff. In fact, you not getting it is a big, big problem."

"Indeed," I said, and smiled. I began to reorient the end-point of the viewing Portal so that it slowly descended from the top to the base of those long, seven feet. I missed the exact moment that Nessi got off of the couch and backed away, as I was all but entranced by the horizontally orientated, bladed staff. As there was no one spot that I'd call 'safe' to grab onto it - the blades rather dramatically prevented such an action - I reached for the mid-point.

The sharp edges EnTeReD my hand with no pain whatsoever, as if I was made of some flesh-toned liquid and they were strange raindrops falling upon me. The deep-blue stone reacted with the action - a storm of energy danced up from its dark interior, and spiky protrusions rose and fell along its surface. The electrical energies TiCkLeD so very interestingly, especially when accompanied by those delightful little spikes. I pulled the full shaft from the horizontally angled summit, and a loud, cracking sound resonated throughout the room. That iron-like stone mountain split in multiple points and began to collapse. As it fell apart, the tip that was within my Domain withdrew.

I remained gazing at the round, deep-blue stone and traced the long, delicate, blue-metal fingers with my own. The surging electricity and movement of the spikes gradually slowed until they faded. A part of me was disappointed in that such a fascinating SeNsAtIoN had ended.

Nessi's shouted calling of my name broke the excessive focus the five-foot high staff held for me. Ignoring when that particular height alteration occurred, I instinctively entered a state of accelerated time and pushed it until it felt like my whole body was screaming in pain. Only then did I move my perceptions towards her. Trailing towards her from myself was the shadow of the staff. My own shadow had long been gone - sacrificed during the process by which I Subsumed and integrated some qualities of the plane of Shadow itself - but such an absence did not affect this shadow.

As if the presence or absence of light had no significance, the straight, bladed, darkened outline of the staff had extended towards my beloved gynoid as if she was some sort of... Shadow magnet? The barest edge of a single blade's shade had overlaid one of her bronzed feet and flayed it, as if the darkness was a blender and her foot nothing but the most fragile, brittle cloth.

My thought process raced through panic at the idea of harming her in any way, being impressed with the staff, contemplating more substantial upgrades to her chassis, and continued with massive bouts of guilty self-loathing and plans of shame-filled self-torture. Those were halted in the realization that she would indirectly feel any such agony as well. A mental command later, the staff was stored in my hammer-space and I resumed a more normal flow of time.

I then raced across the featureless brown room, but skidded to a halt before I... Touched her. She held up her arms in an invitation, and I gladly embraced her. My sobbed apologies were mixed with statements of her understanding, along with one major thought: why do all the awesome god-tier artifacts have to be cursed, anyways?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

12:04 PM. Linked exchange journal messages, written in the disposable time-line.

Rainbow: That was a wild jump of faith there. No matter how confident I am about a portal key, simply dropping off into darkness is rather... Intimidating. Moreso when the region on the other side is pitch black. -Ray

Ray: Shadows. I understand... Somewhat. Garmundi should be in there - after Annah brought him here, his memories showed that that was where he was going. Your location is... Pandemonium, the layer of Agathion. Looks like another self-contained region. By the way - I grabbed the ledger from the thieves in the main time-line, as well as all the thieves themselves. -Rainbow

Rainbow: Great! How did she get there so fast? -Ray

Ray: She used the Bag of Kidnapping I supplied her, along with that handy invisible suit. Your subtle indirect suggestion, of course. -Rainbow

Rainbow: Of course! I'll be exploring this place for a while. -Ray

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

12:36 PM. Sigil Waiting Room, Sanctum. Raymond's POV. Main time-line.

Annah was poking the still, frozen form of Garmundi as I entered the room. Apart from her, Rainbow was also present, along with the newly married Jessica. I gave them a wave and some words of greeting, which they returned.

We all settled down on the large, U-shaped couch. The last one was my favourite tailed tiefling, who pulled herself from the stasis-bound dwarf and sat down beside me. I whispered some words of thanks and appreciation into her ears, and she lightly jabbed me a few times in return.

"Ray," Rainbow began, "Kylie stopped by - she had a delivery for you." He passed me a business card, which only reached my hands after an in-depth inspection from Annah.

It was a simple white card, blank on one side. The other had some sort of monster head picture that covered the left hand side, while text filled the rest. The top sentence was hand-printed, and said 'Your help is required, please come as soon as you can!' The rest was professionally stamped out: 'Balthazar Thames,' 'Solver of Mysteries,' 'Finder of Lost Objects,' 'Friend for Hire,' '#8B Gray Dragon Lane,' 'Clerk's Ward.'

"What do you make of it?" I asked Rainbow, as I showed him the card.

"Portal key to one of the Four Doors, of course," he replied with a smug smile. "Not the card itself, but the symbol on it. A rather long and convoluted story that is, especially when you consider that Estavan - of the Planar Trade Consortium - was the one that had it sent to you in the first place. He's currently keeping an eye on the building, and intends to meet you there. He'll propose that you find his ledger, and when you enter Thames' room, well... You'd show up, get pulled in and... Do a bunch of things on the other side, I imagine." He looked at the doorway we walked through. "That very irregular so-called ogre mage is one that has never stepped inside here, if you catch my meaning. I wonder what secrets he holds..."

Rainbow made some contemplative sounds and stared off into the distance. Jessica poked him on the shoulder and he returned to reality - or close enough for it not to matter.

"So what exactly is that dwarf's story, anyways?" I asked Rainbow, as I gestured to the stilled figure. "Same thing with that tattoo on his forehead. No, don't tell me... Its another portal key?"

"Yes indeed, Ray," he said with a grin. "More than that, too - it is the holy symbol of Aoskar. A tattoo. One guess as to who gave it to him."

I glanced at Annah out of the corner of my eye, and placed a hand on her thigh under the table. "Fell, right?" I asked, and Annah's tail spasmed around my lower back, where she had wrapped it earlier. She immediately began to mutter under her breath about 'the Lady's shadow' and like terms, but did not remove my hand. My focus returned to Rainbow.

The many-coloured man nodded silently in confirmation, his face set in a rare serious expression.

"Fine," I said. "Annah? Fall-from-Grace? Nordom?" I looked at each of them as I said their name. "One of my many recovered memories was dying from the Lady's shadow. I can't rely on her mercy, if such a thing exists, in case we catch her attention. I'd rather play things cautiously, and use what resources -" I briefly shot a glance at Rainbow "- we have to do things safer. Any objections?"

None were heard.

"So, Rainbow," I began, and shifted my hand to hold one of Annah's, "what can you tell us about what is going on? About the Four Doors and this frozen dwarf here, Garmundi?"

"Some things," he replied. "But not everything. I'm in the process of... Gathering resources... You could say, and all the answers are not immediately at my fingertips."

"That's fine," I said. "How about lunch while we wait?" I relaxed against the couch. I didn't get as much sleep last night as I wanted, due in large part to a certain feisty red-haired tiefling - I have no idea where she got the idea of how to use her tail like that - but my hardy constitution made up for it.

"Sure!" He clapped his hands, and the table was filled with a wide assortment of dishes. "Jess?" Rainbow turned to his executive assistant. "Would you like to have lunch with us or with your... New... Spouse...?"

Jessica's raised eyebrow and ring-adorned hand was all the answer the young brunette gave him. He realized that with a sigh, and prepped to snap his fingers while looking at her. She stood up from her chair and gave him a nod. One finger snap later, and she was gone. It was followed by another snap, and Nessi appeared.

A round of greetings followed, and we all dug in to the meal.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

1:27 PM. Linked exchange journal messages, written in the disposable time-line.

Rainbow: There's a dragon here. -Ray

Ray: I'm assuming the dragon is friendly, or you've gained some impressive run-and-fight-and-write skills lately. -Rainbow

Rainbow: The first option. Rainbow... He said "tell your writing companion to talk to the real me, not this shadow in a reality most fragile." -Ray

Ray: Well. Shit. -Rainbow

Rainbow: He said his name was Argathorn. He is the past proxy of Chronepsis, the draconic god of fate, death and judgement. Furthermore, he said that there is a dark god of secrets, and it knows about 'THE GREY.' -Ray

Ray: I'll talk to him right away. Thanks. -Rainbow

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

1:29 PM. Sigil Waiting Room, Sanctum. Mike/Sanctum's POV. Main time-line.

I put my fork down and stared at my fruit salad. "Sorry everybody," I said as I stood up. The long lunch had slowed down in the past half-hour, but there were still nibblers. I waved to Ray and his group, and exchanged a brief hug with Nessi. "Urgent business. I'll come back as soon as I can."

A thought pulled out the blood-red glowing gem and Estavan's ledger. I placed them both on the table near Raymond. "Please make sure Estavan sees you go through the portal by Thames' office. The book here," I patted the ledger, "is what he is looking for, and the gem is the portal key for coming back. It is very important to me that this stone is returned afterwards."

Once I saw Ray's serious-minded face acknowledge my words with a nod, I did another quick wave and teleported out to my private lounge. I settled into the one, comfortable chair and changed the end-point of the viewing Portal to Argathorn's chamber, in the layer of Agathion in Pandemonium.

"Greeti-" I began to say to the gaunt, wiry black dragon centered in front of me, before I was cut off.

"Bring me Garmundi and we can talk, Breaker of Fate's strands," the creature spoke, his voice nearly mournful in how depressed it sounded.

"How are y-"

"I have seen too much," Argathorn replied preemptively to my inquiry. "You, of all beings, should know the price that would be paid for that. Remember - Garmundi. Farewell."

My mouth opened and closed a few times, uselessly. Finally, I just listlessly waved at the staring, skull-like face of the dragon, and switched the view to the Outlands. The distant torus of Sigil kept my focus as I thought.

Nessi? How many dark gods of secrets are there?

Just one. That would be Vecna, head-mate, Nessi replied.

What can you tell me about him?, I mentally asked her.

As she gave me details about the Arch-lich, also known as the Chained God; the Maimed God; Master of the Spider Throne; the Whispered One; the Dying King; the Lord of the Rotted Tower; and the Undying King, I began to get just the tiniest bit depressed. My earlier elation about the Domain-wide Portal upgrade seemed so insignificant now. No matter that he was just a demi-god - his portfolio sense of secrets was an incredibly effective armour.

After all, its not like I'll have a chance to kill Vecna or something. That would be an epic series of quests for someone else.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

3:46 PM. Gray Dragon Lane, Clerk's Ward, Sigil. Raymond's POV.

Annah shook her feet to rid them of the bloodied traces we had just waded through. A group of six masked idiots had jumped us as we passed the alley between the general store and some abandoned building. Nordom was tense for some reason, and the results were a rather large splattered mess in the alleyway. Annah was closest, and she got splashed by the bloody giblets. I think she was frustrated about not being sensibly able to lash out at the rogue modron for the collateral mess.

I could understand her view, somewhat. The first time Rainbow had explained the features of what she wore - what he gave her as an 'upgrade gift' - I was shocked as well. Annah was basically wearing what amounted to a full set of major artifacts. Any protests about the items were usually met with "oh, sorry. I can make it better if you want. Give me a minute or two!"

Seriously - what do you say to that? Thanks? She did say that, for all that it matters. On one side, there was a former street-rat tiefling raised in an almost totally loveless and penniless situation for the majority of her life, and the other, a vastly overpowered and mind-bogglingly rich being who gets depressed because he thinks that handing out major artifacts on a whim is not enough because it is too damn easy for him.

"Annah?" I said.

"Aye, what is it yeh want?"

"I think we'll need a long night in the magnificent mansion after this gets all sorted."

"Aye," she said with a smirk at me, her blooded boots temporary forgotten. "I'll ride yeh till the bed collapses and yah die again."

The exchange of our smiles and stares were interrupted by the sound of grinding teeth and a refrain of 'tentacles... Tentacles... Tentacles...' Morte was vibrating with the intensity of his restraint. Ever since he was introduced to some women at the recent wedding after-party who were 'into tentacles,' his efforts at not antagonizing Annah - and, to a lesser degree, Fall-from-Grace - had reached new heights. However, he was not perfect.

The solution to this problem was the 'screaming bag.' I quickly pulled it out of my hammer-space and dragged Morte inside it, and pulled taut the draw-stings. His frenzied movements inside the reinforced cloth looked like some sort of berserk flying demon was trying to escape. When it did not stop after half a minute or so, I just dragged the bag of floating insanity behind me.

Tentacles, I thought. What's so great about tentacles? I shook my head at a flashback of Annah's creative tail use and wondered... How many 'tentacles' are we talking about here, anyways?

...

The two story-building that Balthazar Thames was also home to two businesses. One section had Paltry's Pastries, which was owned by a rotund and happy woman unsurprisingly named Paltry. She greeted us with the tempting scents of many delicious baked goods and a sales pitch.

"How many Amorian berry rolls can I wrap for you?" She asked us, and pointed to a plate of rolled pastries.

Both Annah and Grace were doing their own versions of 'I'm in no way whatsoever interested in these tempting snacks' routine. Annah's tail was more honest, though the succubus' attentions were more subtle.

I sighed and held up a single platinum piece for inspection. "What can I get for this, dear baker?" I asked her.

Paltry's eyes twinkled and her smile widened. "Hey there cutter, let me show you my special pies and cakes selection!"

Needless to say, we remained in that bakery for a decent and delicious stretch of time. Only when crumbs remained, did I mention to the baker about Thames. Her mood underwent a sad shift at my inquiry.

"The poor man!" Paltry wailed. "My boy Meager was making a delivery over on Thistlewind Way when he saw the Caring Sisters of the Healing Hovel cart him away. He was beaten pretty badly. If you must have the awful details, his assistant, Beranda, may be able to tell you more. Oh, the poor man!"

"Thanks, Paltry," I replied, as I attempted to reassure her. "I'll make sure that he hears of your concern."

She smiled sadly, and dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her flour-dusted apron. We all sent our versions of fare thee wells to the baker, and headed outside.

The door to the left of the window full of pies was labeled similarly to the business card Kylie had indirectly delivered to me. The only difference was that this one had no gargoyle symbol on it, and there was the mention of his office being one flight up. I brought that very card out of my hammer-space and turned the knob of that door. I pushed it inward and stepped inside. Morte bobbed in beside me, and the rest trailed after.

The wide staircase was interrupted by the presence of an eleven-foot-tall ogre with large, ivory horns. Estavan of the Planar Trade Consortium, I thought, and greeted him with a smile. Despite how he looked wedged into the space, that same smile was returned gladly.

"Balthazar Thames, I presume?" The ogre asked me. "I've been waiting for you for hours," the blue-skinned giant sighed. "Still, I realize you have mysteries to solve and objects to find. Which, in fact, is the reason I've come calling. Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Estavan, of the Planar Trade Consortium."

"Actually," I began to reply, "I'm not Balthazar Th-"

The ogre cut me off with another excited round of speech. "Of course!" He exclaimed. "You must be one of Balthazar's famed associates. I know you can help me recover the item that I've lost!"

I don't know how Rainbow can stand it, I thought. All these people doing a song and dance to manipulate others. I'm glad that I at least try to be honest.

"And what item would that be, Estavan?"

He waved a large, blue hand, adorned with a few jeweled rings. "Someone has stolen a ledger from my office," he said. "It's a large volume with a cover of silver scales and a distinctive icon in the lower right corner. You should recognize it easily: the icon is a stylized rendering of a grim gargoyle. I believe it was taken by agents of Jerkot's Imports, one of my more troublesome competitors. Retrieve the ledger and bring it to my office on Pride Street, near the hall of Records. Do this, and I will pay you thrice your usual fee."

"Of course, Estavan!" I replied, with a big smile. "Just keep in mind that we are operate independent of Thame's fee structure." His blue skinned face revealed an even larger smile in response, though there was a brief flicker of concern a the mention of 'fees.'

"Excellent!" He said. "Please be careful of Jerkot's agents, as they can be... Unpleasant," Estavan admitted. "By the way, I noticed that the door up here has been forced open. I've been calling, but there doesn't seem to be anyone about. I would have checked the situation out, but I had enough trouble just getting this far into the building." The large ogre sighed. "Thames lovely assistant, Beranda, should've answered. I do hope she's all right."

What an utter and complete bastard, I thought. My 'usual fee' is now one hundred thousand platinum coins. I hope you choke on it. And how in the planes did he get upstairs to check that door? An idea flashed into my mind as I looked at the blue-skinned ogre, the cramped stairway, and Annah.

I pulled my darling tiefling towards me and, under the pretext of a sigh and a nuzzle, I whispered into her ear. "Another guest, please."

Her eyes flicked to Estavan, and she fractionally nodded. "Eh," she said. "Yeh right. I have to head out. See yah later."

I put on a sad face and gave her a dejected, but casual, wave good bye. The others did the same and she left out the door we came in by. I returned my gaze to the stuck ogre.

"So," I began, "are you going to remove yourself, or...?"

He gave me a sad looking shrug and sighed. "I'm afraid that it would take some time for me to work myself free. Do you mind...?" He gestured as if to indicate we were to climb over him.

Fine then, I thought. I really, really hope Annah knocks around the bag you'll be stashed in.

I led the way over the blue-skinned ogre. I resisted the temptation to stomp on him with difficulty, but I did hope that Grace would 'accidentally' touch him. Unfortunately, that did not happen. All of us clambered over him without issue.

At the top of the stairwell was a wide landing and another door. It was partially open, and I could see that the interior room had been wrecked. I pushed it open cautiously, while my other arm made as to keep the others back.

The open door to Thames' office revealed a large room with a thick carpet. Any furniture that was ever in here was now tossed about and broken, with the fragments bunched up against the four walls. Loose papers were scattered everywhere, as though some great wind had blown through. There was no sign of anybody in there, alive or dead. No Balthazar, Beranda or any thieves.

I crouched down beside the door frame and inspected the lock. As I did not get much out of my current level of understanding, I called forth some thief-related expertise from the depths of my partitioned soul.

The lock was sprung by an expert thief, I thought. No traps on the door or other hazards noted. I pushed that expertise back away and looked at the mess once more. It didn't make sense for such a precise job to be done on the door and a shoddy one inside the office. Unless they were in a great rush, Estavan might be even more of a complete bastard than I thought.

I stood up, dusted off my hands, and beckoned the others inwards. I made sure that the portal key business card was in hand before we made it to the center of the room. Then, without warning, a powerful cyclone spun into existence right around us. As the papers, furniture, and my other companions spun all around me, I had one accompanying thought: at least Estavan didn't trash this room.

A bright light exploded in my vision, and then everything changed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

5:22 PM. Sigil Waiting Room, Sanctum. Mike/Sanctum's POV.

"Annah," I began, as I stared at the stilled, frozen form in front of me, "you do bring me the most fantastic gifts." What I was referring to was the stasis bound figure of Estavan. He had initially arrived asleep, and in the form of an excessively short human.

"No problem, Rainbow," she said, not looking straight at me. "He was just... Flying... And invisible... And shape-changed. I had to run and jump and catch him mid-air."

"Excellent, most excellent," I continued. "You simply must be thanked for such an exemplary bit of work. How about... Your punch-daggers? How would you like them to be throwable, multi-splitting, life-seeking and returning for the distance of... Say... Ten miles or so?" I gave her a wide smile.

"Ah ha..." Her smile was rather forced.

My master plan is working!

"Or," I continued, "I could help you with something that will benefit both of us, as well as Raymond. What do you think?" I stretched out on my large, comfortable leather chair and watched her.

"Right," Annah said. "That one. What is it?"

"It's both simple and hard," I replied. "I just want you to say some positive things about yourself, and mean it. No oaths, no promises, no lies. Nothing like that. I'll even prompt you the words, okay?"

She stared at me suspiciously from across the table. The tip of her tail could be seen flicking from where it was pressed against the U-shaped couch.

My open smile met her glaring eyes and won, though it did take some minutes.

"Aye," she finally said. "I'll say yeh words. But if yeh make fun of me, I'll... Not like it. Not at all." Her last words were barely audible, as she was all but whispering, head down.

A loud clap of my hands brought her attention back to me. "Great," I began. "Let's start with something simple. How this will work is like this... I'll prompt you with a sentence, like 'my hair is fantastic,' and then you say the same thing. Easy enough?"

"Aye."

"Alright... Let's begin! 'I love Raymond and know that he loves me.'"

"...Can we get back to the throwing punch-daggers?"

"Nope. This is worth more to me, Annah. Can you understand that?"

"Aye... But feelin' for others'll just get yeh stabbed in places that don't heal."

"True. But not caring is even worse, Annah. I'll tell you right now, that if I did not have people who cared about me, and who I cared about in return and truly believed all that - I'd either be a complete monster or as near to dead as I can be. They are the only thing that makes life worth living."

"...Right."

"So?"

"Fine..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

5:28 PM. Linked exchange journal messages, written in the disposable time-line.

Rainbow: The Third Door was in the form of a cortelestial's mouth - a living portal opening that triggered when I gazed into it's eyes, held no fear and strode into it. -Ray

Ray: I WANT IT!!! -Rainbow

Rainbow: Wow. Well, you'll have to wait two months for the Sigil one to leave, or you can check out the one here. Just make sure you return it, as the locals all but worship the thing. From the Second Door, that Zarulaz creature came through with TONS of info. Now we already know the key to Fourth Door AND what Estavan's plans are. How is the primary me doing? -Ray

Ray: Still behind the First Door. We needed to make the story of the 'ledger recovery' more believable, and the shock of just tossing him it before they even go through there is not worth what revealing such capacities would signify. -Rainbow

Rainbow: True. Say, what did that dragon want to talk to you about? -Ray

Ray: Very heavy significant shit. To put it simply, I have a 'divine' leak into my secrets. I need to up my power levels and defences significantly. -Rainbow

Rainbow: YOU need to up your power levels? -Ray

Ray: Yes. -Rainbow

Rainbow: That does not sound good at all. -Ray

Ray: I KNOW. So what is it like behind the Third Door? -Rainbow

Rainbow: It's a place called Logicus. From what I can understand from the beings here - who speak in some strange, mathematical formula - this world exists in a sealed crystal sphere. (Reminder: I want a spelljammer!) The prime-material world here was nearly destroyed many thousands of years ago. They never fully recovered, and it now consists of clusters of land and strange structures floating in a huge bubble of air, with each component in a cluster being called a module. There are four modules in this cluster, but I haven't visited them all yet. I'm still on the one we arrived at. No magic is supposed to work here, except for the magic used to save the world (and is still in effect to keep the air bubble together) and wizard spells beyond the first level and priest spells past the second. I'm actually amazed that all the things you gave us still work. How is that possible? -Ray

Ray: All about redundancy, Ray! If a realm is low-magic, the magitech kicks in; if it is null magic, the Tinker-tech kicks in; suppresses magic, they qualify as supernatural... And so on and so forth. Basically, unless you directly end up in a sphere of annihilation - they should work. Speaking of, that is one more thing to test. I'm assuming your spirit would come back here, otherwise those things would be banned by the gods. -Rainbow

Rainbow: Eh. Maybe later. I'm glad about these things, at least. Other details... All the inhabitants here are called 'Unit,' followed by a number. Odd to males, even to females. They carry lightning guns and shock staves, for ranged and melee combat respectively, and flight belts that allow them to travel between the floating modules. They look like some sort of machine melded with humans, elves and dwarves - a strange mix of sinew, circuitry, bone and metallic gears. Very steady, unemotional people - with the one exception being a contest every five hundred years, linked to the very opening of this creature-portal. It hasn't come close to being started yet, though. Every member of this numbered race is connected to the World Mind, a powerful computer that keeps the modules in their orbits, and siphons the magic of this world to keep the air bubble intact. -Ray

Ray: I think there was a translation error there. Did you send 'computer'? What does that word mean to you? -Rainbow

Rainbow: Computer? Sure, it means 'a programmable device that can accept data, perform mathematical and logical operations at high speed, and somehow display the results of those operations.' -Ray

Ray: So... There is a 'computer' that controls (or connects) an entire mechanized species, keeps a planet's worth of floating segments in their orbits, maintains about the same volume of breathable air... And it runs by siphoning magic from either the entire crystal sphere or at least a planet's worth? -Rainbow

Rainbow: Yeah, that sounds about right. One more addition: one of these floating masses are called 'the Module of the Omenotron,' and it is a a self-contained computer part that feeds data to the World Mind. That data is sourced from from other planes, where it is capable of seeking out portents and hints of pivotal events. -Ray

Ray: They just tell you all this? Right out of nowhere? -Rainbow

Rainbow: What can I say? I'm a persuasive person. Ravel is... Ah... 'Living' proof of that. As Mebbeth. -Ray

Ray: Got it. I'll just be quietly contemplating the idea of a planet sized, magic-fueled super computer whose FIRST module you spot is capable of remote viewing other planes. Excuse me, please. -Rainbow

Rainbow: Sure. I'll keep you updated.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(The Whole of) Sanctum.

"HARDWARE UPGRADE INCOMING!!! WOOOOOOOOO!!!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Append to Sanctum's Notepad:

- A super-awesome spelljammer ship for Raymond! (It must be the captain thing. Tiefling girls dig spelljammer captains, right?)

- Magical super-computer. Want. WANT. WANT!!!!

- I have no idea what is going on with that staff and gem. Ziz says just to keep them, so... I am. Yay.

- Get Ray to bring Garmundi to Argathorn. Then talk and find out more depressing details. Yay twice over.

- Fell stopped by, but Ray wasn't here. I'll let him know.

- Heal Balthazar Thames at the Caring Sisters of the Healing Hovel... After we finish his job for him.

- Find out more about Vecna, get depressed. Repeat as needed.

- Order some of those pastries from Paltry. One of each!

- "Thrice your usual fee." Oh Estavan, Estavan, Estavan... Thank you so very much.

- Cortelestials will be my new favourite animal until they are not.

- Those bloody giblets came from six members of the 'Society of the Locked Door.' They are fanatics that want to close portals. In SIGIL. Bloody idiots, truly. I'll ask Ray to raid their headquarters or something.

2.9 - "Being Both a Rock and a Hard Place"

5:47 PM. Friday, November 2nd, 2057 (Shadowrun calendar). Thuldanin, Second Layer of Acheron. Raymond's POV.

Annah invisibly stepped out of mid-air a few paces in front of me. I gave her a wave, then returned to the game in front of me.

"I passed GO!" Morte exclaimed. "Now give me two hundred!"

Fall-from-Grace passed him two light orange papers, each labeled 'one hundred' in numbers. The skull clacked his teeth together a few times in approval.

Annah sat beside me and whispered, "Who's winning, then?"

I merely fanned my own small stack of coloured paper strips towards her in reply. The red-headed tiefling grumbled and looked around. I followed her gaze at the sparse scenery. We were never able to inspect the rumoured giant junkyard, as the place had been utterly cleared out by Rainbow much earlier. In place of what were supposed to be mountains of petrified miscellany were simply nothing. That one and only sapient demiplane had scoured the entire inside of this entire giant iron cube, so that the only things that remained were the portal arch we arrived in, and the huge, central sculpture.

"By the Lady's shadow," Annah whispered in terror. "What does the soddin' berk think he is doing?"

She must be referring to the sculpture of the Lady of Pain. Done up to gigantic scale, it replicated every single fold, crease and sharp blade of the Lady to absolute, precise detail. The only difference was the face - in place of Her Serenity's serene neutrality, was a blank, smooth surface instead.

"Yeah," I replied. "That's why we are all facing away from the sculpture. Rainbow figured that since this portal here only opens every five hundred years, he's safe. On top of that, he plans to wall off the area around that portal so that it can't be used even then. It will be his... Tiny little remembrance area."

She muttered more insults while she shifted her cushion so that it was right in front of me. "Can I join in, then?" She asked me, as she indicated the board game.

"No," I answered. "You can take over my spot, though - we're planning on leaving right after this game." I caused the nearly double fist-sized, glowing blood-red gem to appear and disappear in her sight. "Just make sure that you're invisible when we go through. What happened with the ogre?"

Annah let out a disgusted sound. "That soddin' ogre Estavan was an ogre mage," she replied. "He had on a different shape and was invisible and flying when I caught 'em. Dropped him off at Rainbow's and again at his office, none the wiser."

I gave her a brief squeeze of approval, which she only mildly grumbled about. "Something must have really impressed him," I said. "I know that on my end he wrote about wanting to make us an amazing spelljammer. How about you?"

She leaned back and whispered to me, "Secret." The edge of her smile was visible as she looked back at the game-board, though her tail was more obviously excited.

I guess that I'll find out about that later, I thought.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

8:39 PM. Sanctum, Proximate to the Kingsdome arena, Seattle Metroplex, UCAS. Mike/Sanctum's POV.

"Still sulking, Mike?" Taylor asked me. She was seated beside me on our reclining couch of sorts.

I had taken the whole 'decoy' portal use rather far, as we now had our own purchased 'box' in the audience stands of the Kingsdome. The barest flicker of attention proved the deception of the act, but... It was the thought that counted. Or so I tell myself.

"Mmm hmm," I replied with a sigh. "One more case of preemptive cheering. That arcane super-computer requires hundreds of square kilometers to run properly. No easy miniaturization options, either. Nessi could work on it, but... She'd need repeated access to the disposable time-line to experiment."

She leaned against my shoulder right after we adjusted our positions. I had not equalized my height with her, and Taylor remained one of the tallest of the 'normal' humans I knew of.

We didn't need to pay much attention to the show on stage. Sure, they were 'The Shadows,' but neither of us had the social-cultural context to appreciate the band. The illusion was also revealed rather significantly when I 'paused' the Domain-border based screen and window. The purpose of this little excursion was more simple: a date with Taylor.

"Hey," she murmured, her lips just inches from my ear. "How much landmass do you have as living tissue doing... 'Hysteria' treatment and intense 'shoulder massaging action'?"

I snorted into her long, dark, curly hair and moved it out the way. With a sigh, I mumbled a large number.

It was then her turn to snort in amusement. "Now I don't feel nearly as bad about what I've been doing to take the 'edge' off."

I attempted to look at her, but I only managed to get a great view of the top of her head. "Indeed...?" I cautiously inquired. "No offloading emotions, right? Still... Real and genuine and such?" The last parts of my question were mumbled into her hair.

"Yeah," she again murmured lightly. "My radius of control works through open doors in the Limited Hallway, so I can tune into all my 'mantids in training.' I barely ever need to give them even the smallest nudge in order for them for indulge their very enthusiastic carnal appetites."

Taylor crawled over my legs so that she was straddling me and her face was barely touching mine. "Then," she continued, her brown eyes boring into my own, "I imagined that all of them are doing every little thing with you."

"I'm guessing you don't mean cutting up and eating other people," I attempted to joke into her very close face.

"Mmm mmm," she replied in the negative. "Though hands and mouths do play important roles."

I audibly swallowed a few times. "While this is..." Incredibly, totally, utterly, completely... "Enthralling - painfully so, even - I don't fully know why you're telling me this." I rested my sweat-dampened palms on the side of her hips, my grip as conservative as I could stand in the moment.

"My mantids. Your very living Domain," she began, and wrapped her arms around me. They helped to press her closer, as well as draw my attention to the deceptively chaste nature of one single, solitary layer of very thin, opaque, all-concealing, flexible and mildly loose clothing. "Nessi approved, Ziz approved, Lastai approved, Taylor so very, very approved and Mike...?"

"Buh," I oh-so-eloquently said. My mind whirled with arguments and counter-arguments, pros and cons. There was massive dose of interference by Taylor's breath and lips lightly brushing over my ear, as well as her very comfortable seating arrangement.

It would just be like simsense! One mental voice argued. But it would be age-inappropriate simsense! Another spoke up. So we can be the 'responsible adult that accompanies a minor'! Yet another mentioned. Good enough of an excuse for me! They all chorused, drowning out the mental muttering of I don't think it's supposed to work that way...

"Mike approved as well, Tay," I said, quietly, as I went through a series of deep, calming breaths.

"Great!" she replied, and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. Right after that, she moved herself back beside me and patted my thigh in reassurance. "All of my mantids are... Now ready for teleportation," she said, sounding very self-satisfied with herself. "If you could prep someplace for them to go... Now... It would be much appreciated."

I gulped. I could almost hear each second passing, as if each and every grain of sand in a hourglass were a fingernail on a chalkboard. With an obsessively excessive awareness of the passage of time, I slid down from the lounge-like chair so that my feet could sink and root themselves into the mass of my Domain.

That done, I tapped Time Acceleration as far as it could comfortably go.

This is a rather unique situation, I thought. I had originally intended for Morte to get his 'tentacle upgrade' before I did any sort of similar activity. That way, I'd sort of 'know' what I was doing with those interesting appendages. I still had time for that, in a manner of speaking, as I was not personally planning on shape-changing into forms with those features any time soon.

I started to queue up a series of mental commands. I'd be able to visually and remotely edit the details, and they would all rapidly be executed the instant I returned to normal time-flow.

Let's see now... Pinch and bud off a section of my living tissue sub-demiplane. Form it into 'pedestrian friendly' scale, instead of the current monolithic one used. Fiddle with some of the more esoteric planar qualities, such as gravity, which would be localized on surfaces and mentally controllable by the visitors off of them; lighting, that would be pleasingly low; time, whose effects would be skewed so that healing and recovery effects are very rapid, while aging, exhaustion and dietary needs would be much reduced.

That sort of meta-planning continued for an unforeseen length of time. I then went into finer details of the general sensory ambiance of the location, which could be said to be 'romantic candle-lit dinner... Inside a extra frisky, excessively friendly, macro-scaled tentacle monster.'

Finishing touches were to divide the region into themes by pace and purpose, such as free-form, rest and relaxation, ooze-style baths and more. Throw in some railings, guide lights, tour stations with ink stamps and mini-maps, and it was done.

I mentally blinked and added in the location of a triple air-locked portal passage-way. Taylor would have to tell me where she wanted the other end. Another location added an opening to the Limited Hallway and ensured that it would be kept open, hidden and shielded. I automatically flagged all the Domain-wide mantids - interestingly, not one seemed to be absent today - and added teleporting them to the queue.

I glossed over the fact that they all seemed to have come out of group showers and had not dressed. After all, its not like clothes would be necessary where they were going.

Time resumed, and all the queued actions unfolded, one after another. By the time I had removed my feet from the ground and carefully slid back atop the lounge-like chair beside Taylor, she was curled up on her side in the fetal position, facing me and making pleased sounds.

Well, I thought, I'm glad that she approves.

I adjusted our positions so that she was halfway on my lap and I could rub her back in comfort. Each movement caused another set of happy murmurs, which I smiled upon hearing.

With that settled, I rewound the 'live' recording of The Shadows in front of us, and began to watch it. The volume was quickly muted to near in-audibility, as Taylor was much more entertaining to listen to.

For a length of unknown time, my gaze switched between the stage-bound band and the happily murmuring figure of Tay. It didn't take long for her to win out over music I had no real interest in.

What the hell, I thought, it's not fair to have her doing this by herself. I stayed still, but caused my calves and feet to grow and lengthen. Seconds later, they entered the ground and I remotely tapped into the operations of that newly active sub-demiplane. I then connected my consciousness into a more directly active role and awareness of the sensory activity at that location.

Whoa, I thought. Morte was right. Tentacles are indeed very awesome.

...

"Love you, Mike..."

"Love you too, Empress."

"My empire is soooo great... Mmm..."

...

Neither of us could recall anything The Shadows played afterwards. We didn't care. That day would also mark the date when the mantids were phenomenally friendlier to me and their mission completion speed ramped up very significantly.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

11:38 PM. Office beside the Invisibles' Waiting Room, Sanctum.

"Mr. Umbrella," Gallowgrey began, "you requested my presence?"

I nodded and gestured to the seat across the desk in front of me, and the free spirit sat down. Absent his normalizing glasses, his gaunt, esoteric appearance of a white haired, gaunt mortician was on full display.

"I have what I believe is very good news for you, Gallowgrey," I said to him. "Do you recall the organization called Tenabrous?"

"I do indeed, Mr. Umbrella," he replied. "What news do you have of them?"

"It comes down to the city-wide retrieval of ghouls the UIG recently completed," I said. "While 'families' of more civilized ghouls such as Adam Shepherd's do exist, they tend to be the exception rather than the norm." I placed my hands on the desk and looked at glowing green sparks that back-lit his eyes. "It is much more common for them to resort to far more violent or ill reputed ways to gain their sustenance. One such way was either working for Tenabrous, either directly or indirectly." I lifted a hand to wave it dismissively in the air. "I was fully prepared to pardon those ghouls for their past activities, as their natures are now changed. But..."

Gallowgrey spoke into the silence, his words heard without the slightest movement of his wrinkled lips. "What happened, Mr. Umbrella?"

"Some of those very changed, reformed and upgraded ghouls have opted to return to the service of Tenabrous," I began, "even after they have neither a need or pressure to do so. This greatly irritates me."

"Myself as well, Mr. Umbrella. Significantly so."

I nodded and continued in a lighter tone. "Along those lines, I have a proposal which I believe you will be greatly agreeable to: that of an agent of UIG with the special portfolio of the complete annihilation and uprooting of Tenabrous, and the secondary objective of doing the same to all other organ-legging systems and operations." I paused. 'Your thoughts?"

"This offer is greatly appealing to me, Mr. Umbrella," the free spirit said, as he infinitesimally leaned forward. "I enthusiastically accept such a commission."

His completely deadpan tone of voice would be amusing, if he wasn't so utterly serious.

"Excellent!" I exclaimed, and lightly clapped my hands together. I started to get up from my seat, and beckoned him to follow. "There are some perks I am extending towards you due to the very broad nature of the mission. I'll explain on the way."

I led out of the office and he followed, silently.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

11:51 PM. Side-room off of the main UIG Garage, Sanctum.

Before us was what appeared to be a traditional, old-fashioned hearse - the automobile historically associated with carrying coffins and the corpses within them. Gallowgrey was running a black leather gloved hand over the edge of the vehicle as he talked. "I don't know why, Mr. Umbrella, but I feel a compelling attraction towards this vehicle."

"Come back here and maybe you'll find out, then," I answered him. I was sitting on a comfortable bench that was mounted against the wall of this metal-framed room.

He somewhat reluctantly left the hearse and approached me. With a polite nod, he then sat down about a body-length's width beside me.

"Have you met Marquis, Gallowgrey?" I asked the free spirit, as my eyes remained focused on the polished black and chrome surface of the vehicle.

"Yes, Mr. Umbrella," he replied. "Mr. Bones was present at the recent wedding."

"Excellent," I said. "That should speed up some aspects of this conversation. To begin with, Marquis is someone who - on my request - has firmly embraced an image, persona and theme. This helps to make his figure and reputation larger than life, and carries weight and significance that travels beyond his immediate proximity. It is my intention to do the same with you." I glanced at him with the corner of my eyes.

"As I assume that that would enhance my own intentions, Mr. Umbrella, I welcome such assistance."

"Great," I calmly said. "Now then, Gallowgrey, given the dual purposes of annihilation and uprooting, what would happen if you merely killed all involved as you found them, continuously?" I fully turned to face him, and stared right into his green spark back-lit eyes.

For once, his voice had the slightest edge of uncertainty in it. "They... Would be replaced...? Sir."

"Exactly," I replied. "Absent your darkened glasses, you already have a striking image. While you are not near the most powerful spirit I'm personally aware of, I'm extending some rather powerful counter-balances to offset that. The first one is your gloves." I gestured towards his hands, which were already wearing the items in question. "Apart from being able to drain and channel life experience as some great spirits are able to do, it goes much, much further than that. They are capable of draining committed experiences of life, slowly reducing those so contacted into crumbly dust and ashes. By the time you finish the majority of this international purge, I expect your powers to be significantly upgraded."

"The next relates to both you and the hearse over there," I continued. "I have deliberately ensured that neither of you are invulnerable. Instead, I choose the more terrifying aspect: that of an endlessly resurrecting opponent. The vehicle will automatically regenerate and repair anything from scratches to complete destruction. You, on the other hand, will be quickly returned to your full form, near a safe spot of your last dissolution, within a minute or so of it occurring. Here is a brief demo in regards to the car."

We both turned towards the hearse. I pulled out an obvious remote control from within my suit jacket and showed it to Gallowgrey. It only had one, single red button. I pressed it, and a wrecking ball, chain attached, dropped from the ceiling into the car. The impact all but cut it in half, with the massive weight of the sphere's edge pressed against the floor. It retracted some seconds later, and the hearse was already repairing itself as we watched. By the time the wrecking ball had anchored itself to the ceiling with a loud 'clunk,' the repairs were fully completed.

"Impressive, Mr. Umbrella."

"Thank you, Gallowgrey," I said. "You will also have complete access to Ops N's services in the form of a... Coffin-shaped... Scanner in the vehicle. Her intelligence, as well as the Queen of Queen's, will be continually available for you for all purposes related to your overall mission. There are other details, but... I don't want to explain them all. It would take too long, and the text of them is available while you work. The Empress has already created a live-updated map for you of the Seattle Metroplex, in regards to Tenabrous operations and associates. Any questions?"

"When do I start, Mr. Umbrella?"

"When do you want to start, Gallowgrey?" I asked him with a smile.

"Now... Sir."

The doors to the hearse opened with a hiss of escaping air, and I gestured towards it. "Your vehicle awaits."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

9:47 AM. Saturday, November 3rd, 2057. Cavern in the Endless Rock of Agathion, in the Plane of Pandemonium. Raymond's POV.

Rainbow had us skip the majority of the cave-like system that lay beyond the Second Door. Instead, after being loaded up with the sleeping form of Garmundi and multiple intensely glowing lights that floated over our heads, we were dropped off near to what was supposed to be a 'friendly ancient black dragon.' While it was a relief to skip exposure to the maddening vibrations that the winds of Pandemonium caused throughout the self-contained caves here, the thought of dragons of any persuasion was still rather anxiety inducing.

I resisted the urge to pull up more capabilities from my partitioned soul and trudged forward with the sleeping dwarf over my shoulders.

"Welcome to Agathion, somewhere in the bowls of Pandemonium," a mournfully sad voice called out. "Please enter, little ones. I've seen the future, little books. I've seen it all."

Even with the combined lights of all of us, the figure of the dragon was hard to discern. His black scales bled into the darkness and shadows of the room, hiding the fact that his bulk filled most of the chamber.

We filed in, quiet in the presence of the draconic creature and the ever-present, endless and maddening vibrations.

"Greetings, Argathorn," I called out to the dragon. "We've brought Garmundi. Where do you want him?"

The black dragon patted a recessed spot on the cavern floor with one of his clawed feet. It was clear of debris, rock and any other uncomfortable surfaces. After I walked over to the indentation, I managed to get a better look at the big figure while I slowly slid the sleeping dwarf into the depression. The dragon was gaunt and spiny, with a pair of forward sweeping horns like all others of his kind. He blinked at the attention, but didn't otherwise react.

The sleeping form of Garmundi yawned and shifted around, but seemed otherwise comfortable in his stony nook.

"You may have the symbol," Argathorn said, as he flicked a clawed foot at a recessed shelf.

I walked over to where he indicated. There, on a stony outcropping, was a holy symbol of Aoskar. It was an ornate and richly jeweled version of the tattoo that Garmundi wore on his forehead. It looked like like a great key with an open door for a pommel, with glittering diamonds representing stars on a field of black velvet within that very 'door.' I stored it within my hammer-space with a touch, and replaced it with a copy that Rainbow had already supplied me.

The chuckles of Argathorn were heard right after, as if he knew what I was doing. Given what Rainbow had said of him, that was likely possible.

I regrouped with the cluster of lights that signified the rest of my party.

"Why do you call us 'little books,' Argathorn?" I asked him.

"Because of where you are all bound to go when you die, little books," he mournfully replied. "No more tied to the Great Wheel and the vagaries of the gods, but instead clasped in the many coloured hands of another. Be careful in your friendships with him, little books. He would raze the planes if you shed unjust tears, and make the Blood War look like an amusing little argument."

"Is he that dangerous, then?"

"He is always dangerous, little books," he said. "Much like any great power of note among the planes, he lacks the reason or excuse to do any true destructive acts. The more he cares, the more those people are able to influence and manipulate him. But it is a welcome influence, for without it, he would lack any reason to care, to be, or to show any signs of restraint." The black dragon orientated his gaze and dual horns my way, with his long neck stretched out to me. "He is like you in a sense, little book. You have absconded from your natural fate and resolved to work on it ever slowly and continuously. Some are rather angry at your violation of order, regardless of your intentions. How would you rage, little book, if the reasons for your care and concern were ripped most unjustly from you?" His gaze roamed over all of us. "Much like how in the past you drew the tormented towards you, now BOTH you and the many coloured one have a new pull on reality: of beings most powerful who dream and grow of true companionship, loving family bonds and the greatest heights of genuine intimacy. Foster those dreams, little books, and they won't become nightmares. For all of us."

Suddenly, the black dragon began to laugh. His tone changed to gleeful excitement. "What a wonderful thing the Breaker of Fate's Strands has brought to this multiverse! Change! Change is coming! My Sight has shifted... Retroactively! The many coloured one needs to become more powerful - and fast! Many are gathering to place hooks into him - hooks of words, deeds, artifacts, powers and agreements! Hooks are already there! He won't be the same after it, and neither will any of you, dear little books! Some hooks may be welcome, some not! Some may be discardable... And some NOT! This is a grand adventure, isn't it, little books?!"

He pulled back his head and looked around the cavern, and made disapproving sounds amongst his laughter. "Please send the colourful one an invitation to redecorate my squalid little space here. I welcome the change it would bring, and so to would Garmundi, I imagine." He looked down at the sleeping dwarf. "He has already recovered Zarulaz from these chambers, as well as done everything else of note. You can inquire about a portal now from him - one of those wonderful, undetectable little portals of his."

I attempted to ask Argathorn more questions, but his only sounds were alternating series of quiet laughter and the mournful cries of sadness. Not needing to hide anything further, I wrote Rainbow in our linked journal and a portal soon after swallowed us.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

10:04 AM. Sigil Waiting Room, Sanctum.

The stasis frozen form of what appeared to be a humanoid form whose outer flesh had been peeled off was introduced as Zarulaz. Great wounds festered across the the body's chest, and the way it was slumped suggested the absence of bones as well.

"What's his story, then?" I asked Rainbow, and pointed to the stilled figure.

"Eh, you know," he replied with a shrug. "Just the brother of a being from a higher plane of reality. Said brother was previously working his way to becoming the conquerer of the multiverse here." He rubbed his hands together in excitement, and I could imagine his many-coloured eyes swirling with the action. "Soon, I'll get to meet my very first multiversal conquerer! I wonder how many stereotypes he will fall under?"

He stared off into the distance while making contemplative sounds. Jessica brought him out of it with a shoulder poke, and he looked at us all inquisitively. "So, Ray," he began, "how do you want to take this? Hear it from mister bloody Z over there, or get the info-dump from me?"

I stared at the fleshless form in consideration. "What is Zarulaz like?"

"Oh, he's fine and dandy," Rainbow replied. "Very reassuring and comforting about how to treat us lesser, inferior beings from lower planes of reality. No sarcasm at all, just genuine sympathy for our poor, simplified and inferior mindsets." He gave me a very toothy grin. "His brother, on the other hand, is all that plus 'dominate the lessers to make myself god of them!'"

"Right," I said, and looked around at everyone assembled here. "Is anyone interested in the perspective of the 'polite being' from a higher reality?"

Fall-from-Grace seemed intrigued at the idea, but was dissuaded after a brief, hushed exchange of words with Rainbow. That was it.

"Looks like you're the speaker, Rainbow," I said to the many coloured man with a smile. "Considering Estavan went through here also, you might as well lay out the whole complicated scenario of what is going on with these... Doors."

He returned the smile and began to speak. "There is a lot to cover, so I'm going to be excessively brief here. I'll only expand on what you want answered." He tilted back his chair till it was almost horizontal and closed his eyes. "The Four Doors are quite aged, going back at least a few thousand years. They show up every five hundred years, at the exact same four locations. They can't be detected as portals, and are only known to be such via the use of the correct portal keys. They are supposed to be able to reach places that are impossible to get to via any other means, but... I cheat." He half-opened his eyes and looked at us with a slight smile on his lips. "They first disappeared, after being continuously open for some prolonged length of time, when Aoskar's temple was shattered, and their first reappearance was five hundred years after that. That reappearance and all subsequent ones only lasted two months."

Rainbow snapped his fingers, and a glass of apple juice appeared. He drank it slowly, and another snap disappeared the empty glass. "A dwarf named Fargullen disappeared one cycle and came back the next, who acted much like Garmundi, and was fed to the Mercy Killer's Wyrm for his actions. Some other time, a being - the brother of mister skinless here - popped out of the Fourth Door and went all 'Grr! I'm a conquerer who has a poor self-image! I need others to worship me to feel self-satisfied!' and smacked beings around the multiverse for five hundred years. A group of powerful people got together and imprisoned him." His eyes opened all the way and looked at us. "If any of you think he would not swear undying revenge for such a slight upon his noble, higher reality self, please poke yourself in the forehead." He looked at Morte. "Or just bash yourself against the wall, it's all good."

The skull clacked his teeth against each other a few times.

"I'm not going to detail the doors," he continued. "You've been through one of them, and visited the locations behind two. The Third has some sort of computerized, magic-drained society of floating islands and structures that also contained the imprisoned Lathuraz, while the Fourth is a sort of extra-vibrant hyper-reality that houses the shed skins of the two brothers - needed for their recovery and recharging - and their families and thought-based god-mind-entity. Now, since I know where the skins of those two brothers are, we can send the good one back to his own, and stab the sad, limited, low self-esteem super-being's to cause him to fall apart. All of that could be done with some portal shuffling."

"Now then," Rainbow said, "the extent of what can be revealed from mister mysterious ogre mage Estavan - and thank you again for that, Annah-of-the-Shadows - is that he had the ledger and plans set up to do this entire little system of letting Lathuraz escape so that he could open the Fourth Door and be killed off for real. For due to the dual natured existence of those beings with their sheddable skins, they can't be destroyed unless their skin is as well, and it is done on their home plane. However, Estavan preferred to use less than fully disposable pawns. He will be rewarded most excellently for that insult." Rainbow and myself shared a fierce grin for a short while.

"Neither of those two hyper-reality beings were as useless as I've described," he continued. "One did the 'Grr!' thing, while the other helped gather four artifacts." Rainbow gestured, and three items appeared on the table between us. They were a cloak, sword and a mercury-filled crystal rod. "The rod locates mercurials, the cloak binds them into the current body they are possessing, and the sword damages them. The manacles aren't present, because they are around Lathuraz at the moment."

"And... That is it," Rainbow concluded. "I could give you a guided tour of the places, but I'd prefer to do so after the current two month blink cycle has ended. Any questions?"

Fall-from-Grace lowered her raised arm as Rainbow talked. When I looked at her, she quietly said, "I wanted to see those places in person, to experience them - but I can do that later."

I understood her perspective. She was closer to an ideal Sensate than I was, as I only paid lip service to the Faction. Thankfully, I'm well regarded enough there that such token efforts do not dismiss me from there.

We all spent about half a hour going over various questions and answers. Rainbow and the others deferred to my choices in this matter. In Rainbow's case it was the simple "It's your multiverse, not mine," while the others simply trusted me to do the right thing. I thanked them for that.

With my decision in mind, I stored the sword and cloak in my hammer-space and told Rainbow. He approved.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

11:28 AM. Private Lounge, Sanctum. Mike/Sanctum's POV.

Nessi was seated beside me this time. We were both staring at the viewing Portal that framed the distant torus of Sigil, in the Outlands. We each had a rather comfortable chair, but neither of us were reclined in them. The room was well lighted for once.

"Nessi," I began, especially casually, "I attempted a tiny bit of questions and answers with Raymond last night. He mentioned two dark gods of secrets. Vecna and Shar. You only said the first one. I'm curious about how this could be, especially considering how much more powerful Shar is - a greater goddess. Explain... Please."

"...Ziz," she said, quietly.

I snapped my fingers, and my... Favourite... Platinum skinned, white-winged angel appeared in front of us. For the first time ever in regards to any of my Guardians, I exerted my will and she froze into absolute stillness. The only things left capable of movement were her eyes, which I ignored.

"Listen," I said to both of them. "I've left you both the highest imaginable amount of slack that I can. I know - literally know, with absolute certainty - that there are things you've kept from me, in regards to both the short and long term. I accept that completely. I have undergone agonizing avatar death and understood the necessity of it seconds after I returned to consciousness. This, though... Such a easily found out deception..." Tears trickled down my cheeks. "I can't understand the point of it. To make me doubt you? To reduce trust levels? To stain the blissfully happy varnish I gloss the mental images of you both with? I'd have been more comfortable if you had put me into a blender, feet first."

I continued to cry silently. "I don't understand it at all. It doesn't make sense. How, when armed with both the ability to make the future and foresee it, did you pick something that hurts so? Among the billions... Trillions... More, even... Of possible methods to get your point across... Why was this method chosen?"

My mental grip on Ziz faded and I had another surge of horror well through me, as I realized the depths of violation I had just committed. Against her, in the spirit - if not the letter - of past promises made to Taylor.

Before I could work myself up into agonizing self-immolation or some other tortures - after all, I was unwilling to inflict that upon them, Ziz had swiftly moved and enfolded me and Nessi in her wings. We were both pressed against her large face as she began to hum, and the pleasurable physical vibrations resonated through us.

"Head-mate," Nessi began, "It was the very most calculated act. Maximum amount of pain, shortest duration of experience, quickest recovery time, and done in as controlled and safe an environment as possible. The purpose was contrast, because... Well... You were on the path to loving us too much. So much so that the smallest things would scar you. Here, now, you'll have a brief blip of a negative benchmark, and our hope is that this incident will be the defining lowest point, ever, of anything that comes up. Instead of a stratospheric endless rapid rise, we can all go mountain climbing together and not worry about running out of oxygen on the way up."

"Right," I replied, as my shuddered tears slowed to a halt. "That... Makes sense. I'll have to go with that as truth, otherwise I'll just endlessly fall down some suspicious, paranoid path and... Break... In the process. Please, just... Take care of me and I'll take care of you, to the best that I can, okay?"

"Of course, Mike-ster," Nessi replied, from her position beside me amidst the infinite fluffiness of Ziz's wings.

"Wanting," Ziz said, as she briefly interrupted her humming to do so.

The platinum angel adjusted her wings and our positions in an attempt to make us more comfortable.

"Ziz? Are you... Even wearing clothes right now?"

"Teasing."

With a half-laugh, I teleported them both out of my private lounge. I adjusted my seating on the large, black leather chair and tilted it back slightly, then breathed a series of deep, calming breaths.

Thank you - both of you, I thought into my shared mind-space.

You're welcome, from both of us, head-mate, Nessi replied in kind.

...

The portal-viewed image of the black dragon Argathorn had replaced the earlier vista of Sigil. I was already calmed down from my earlier emotional seesaw, and the prospect of a deadly serious conversation didn't faze me as much as it would have earlier.

"Greetings, Breaker of Fate's Strands," he said, his dulled black scales merging with the shadows behind him. The shadows were due to a number of high-intensity light globes that filled his chamber, in an attempt to shield us from the risk of 'secrets being told in the darkness.' The same treatment was done in this room, changing the normally comfortably dim lighting to something glaring and harsh.

"Why do you call me that?" I asked.

"Because that is what you are and what you do," he replied, and gave the draconic equivalent of a shrug. "No matter the reason or intention, the normal flow of fate is being greatly upset by your actions. In a sense, you are an outside agent - out of Fate's context - and so are not so much permitted to do what you do, but not actively denied such. Besides which, I believe you have already been cautioned about excessive actions, yes...?"

"Yes, indeed," I said. "How do you know all this? I thought my Domain was adequately shielded from all such attempts to remotely perceive it." Though calm on the outside, I experience inner panic when I imagined all my current efforts were for naught. The Spelljammer, Domain-wide mind blank, permanent non-detection and more - were they all useless against a being of not even demigod levels?!

"There were two rather large holes in your defences, Breaker of Fate's Strands," the black dragon said. "The first is the interval of time between your arrival at this multiverse and the establishment of those defences. The second is you, yourself - whatever you might have ever said to me or will say to me. I KNOW IT ALL!"

I attempted to ask him a question, but his current bout of loud laughter prevented it. Garmundi was still sleeping, safe enough, as the effect was set to last through a full day.

"Myself?" I said, when his excessive glee switched over to a maudlin tone again.

"YES," he gasped out, as if the word hurt him. "I've been blessed and cursed by madness thrice over: once via the revelation that caused my exile from the side of Chronepsis, the other via the accumulated soul-wearing pressures of Pandemonium, and the final time upon your entry to this multiverse. It has allowed the cracks and fissures in my broken mind to better accept and recognize the fate-warping your existence, actions and presence creates. The Rule of Three has stricken me."

Oh dear, I thought. Given the nature of this multiverse, I wouldn't be surprised if there were entire bloody GROUPS of insane future-tellers.

"What caused your madness in the first place?"

"The perception of a pivotal event in future history, Breaker of Fate's Strands," he whimpered, almost going into mournful tears. "It concerns the Lady of Pain, Aoskar, and the fates of all throughout this multiverse. It would also be... Unhealthy... For you to know about it in any detail, as I'm sure you can imagine."

"The Lady?"

"And OTHERS of like caliber, yes!" He gleefully shouted. "YES!"

"I'm aware of two dark gods associated with secrets," I said. "One maimed lich, and the other a goddess of the dark. Which should I be concerned about?"

"Eventually?" The black dragon inquired of me, with a painfully taut, teeth exposing grin. "Both of them! Plus ALL the gods of fate, for the VERY same sort of reason as MYSELF!" He broke into laughter. "Then... THEN... Add in ALL the gods of death, judgement, wealth, trade, commerce, weather and so on and so forth and SO ON AND SO FORTH!" His all-but screamed words ended in silence. He stared at me. "Unless you are quite careful, it is indeed possible to have the majority of all divine presences arrayed against you. In a more realistic time-frame, however, you merely need be concerned about the one, tiny, broken and maimed lich."

Ah, I thought. That Shadowrun multiverse is looking more and more like a holiday, every single day. I almost feel like giving myself a headache so that I could say that this has given me a headache.

"I had thought that I'm pursuing my own advancement rather quickly," I cautiously offered. "Are there problems with my current pace?"

"Only if you enjoy your current existence, Breaker of Fate's Strands," he said amidst his sobs. "Otherwise... No problems at all. None."

I'm finding out that the biggest problem about asking about the future and getting a clear answer is that bad futures are not wanted and not welcome. I had some small comfort in the fact that a 'future me' would be unable to tell him when I died, as I'd be... You know... Dead.

"Should I be concerned about you telling the details about myself to others?"

"Of course!" He happily exclaimed. "Very much so! The only thing I can do is talk. I can't fight, physically effect change, die, get wounded, leave here, or even get hungry! It would be in your best interests to ensure that access to me is restricted. Maybe even more restricted than those lovely, tempting sensory crystals with the female dragon triplets in the second season of... But that won't be till the special holiday edition... Never mind!"

"That won't be a problem," I replied, as I mentally went through a laundry list of enchantments, wards and defences I could slather all around his chambers. "What about your own god, Chronepsis?"

"He is a god of fate, judgement and death," Argathorn replied. "You are upsetting all three of his divine portfolios. I'm sure you can imagine some possible reactions, Breaker of Fate's Strands."

Oh, perfect, I thought, with my mental words dripping with sarcasm. How wonderfully fantastic!

"What would be some avenues of power advancement you would recommend?"

"That is a rather loaded question, Breaker of Fate's Strands," he said with a brief chuckle, as if he was laughing at a small, private joke. "I will merely give you some hints: white mist, blue spheres, purple crystals, black water and spheres of the fallen past. What you do with them is up to you." His black wings flared out, and they briefly eclipsed the glowing orbs around him. Argathorn's gaunt, wiry form was better revealed in those few seconds.

"I'd thank you properly," I slowly began, "except that I don't know for what I'd be doing so - at least for now, I mean. Argathorn, what is it that you need or simply even want, there in Pandemonium?"

His entire figure perked up with the question. "Interior decorating, defences, conversation with you, and chess games with a certain platinum angel," he rapidly shot out. "I've been waiting to say that list for quite some time."

"Ah..." I uselessly said. Some of those made sense, but... "Interior decorating?"

"Yes," the black dragon replied. "I'd like a giant bean-bag. A future self of mine really enjoys it. Garmundi could also use a more comfortable housing arrangement - perhaps something with noise cancelling features, and a 'surrounding sound musical system.' The prophet-in-training of Aoskar needs some perks, and I need a good seat to watch the changing fate of the multiverse..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

1:14 PM. Estavan's Planar Trade Consortium Office, Pride Street, Clerk's Ward, Sigil. Raymond's POV.

While Estavan was pleased upon seeing me, his happiness was quickly replaced with guarded caution upon seeing another: his very own harvester devil - falxugon type - advocate, Melnaexoch.

"Esteemed Estavan," the devil said, as he oozed false happiness and sincerity. "This gentleman here," he indicated myself with a wave of a clawed hand, "has retained my professional services to act as a mediator for one contract. Regardless of the outcome, I will get recompense, so I am most honoured to act without any bias what-so-ever. The fact that you are also a client of myself for decades shall not influence my decisions in any way."

The two of them exchanged false smiles, then Melnaexoch pulled out some rolled parchments from within his bejewelled, red silken vest. They were then opened, unrolled and spread upon the merchant lord's desk.

"As you can read from this statement of events, honoured Estavan," the devil continued, "during the hours of yesterday, you agreed to pay my client here a sum of coins which was 'thrice his usual fee' in return for a specific ledger of yours. Is this correct?"

Estavan made some affirmative sounds, if with a small undercurrent of caution to them.

"Most excellent, oh wondrous Estavan," the human-seeming devil said. His normal appearance only drew attention to his short, blood-red horns and glowing orange eyes. "My client has recovered the ledger," he looked at me and I held up the bound book in question, "and is willing to return it to you for the agreed upon price: thirty thousand platinum pieces."

I had originally intended to make it three hundred thousand, but the possibility of it being dismissed out of hand were too high.

"Pardon?" Estavan said, as he blinked a few times in surprised shock. He used that time to smoothen out his own luxurious red silk kimono, removing whatever trace creases there could possibly be.

"These documents here," the devil began, sorting the loose parchments into stacks, "have signed, notarized and witnessed statements all testifying that my client's 'usual fee' is ten thousand platinum pieces. As you were willing to pay thrice the amount, it comes out to that total - thirty thousand."

The ring adorned blue fingers of the ogre mage silently tapped the large desk in front of him with his long, filed black nails. That desk, much like the other furniture around the office, was scaled to fit Estavan's larger shape. The only exception to such sizing were two normal scaled chairs in front of that large desk.

I used the silence he provided to sit down, and gave him a coolly polite nod and smile. It was returned in the same manner, nearly automatically. The advocate seated himself soon after.

"And if I were rendered unable to pay this amount, advocate?" Estavan asked.

The devil's smile was larger than usual as he replied. "Not an issue, oh worthy Estavan. I was provided with an extensive catalogue of all your assets and monetary supplies, and they could be easily transfered to my client as needed, or requisitioned by dedicated repossessors. I will, of course, need to keep annotated copies of your extended finances in my own office and at... Central processing in Baator. Your assets exceed those required thirty thousand by a reasonable margin."

His large blue face could not hide the displeasure he felt. The ogre mage momentarily stilled the telling movements of his bejeweled hands by inspecting his black nails, one by one.

"The other option," I prompted Melnaexoch.

The only sign of the advocate's irritation was a quick exhalation of brimstone-scented black smoke. His perfectly false smile never wavered as he spoke again, "There is, however, another option that does not require you to expend any of your personal wealth, nor leave your... Documentation... In my grasp."

Estavan's smile turned mildly more genuine upon hearing this, while the devil's continued to acquire a microscopically sickly tinge and ever-more fake smile.

"The reclusive mercantile financier who goes by the name of Rainbow Umbrella has agreed to conditionally assume your debt, in the form of an interest free-loan," he said. "The conditions would include a pay-back period of one century and regular meetings with him on a schedule," Melnaexoch looked straight at Estavan, "which is not in the slightest difficult for you, as you have proven a capability to fit into very narrow stairways indeed."

The richly dressed ogre mage silently mouthed the question of "Rainbow Umbrella?" my way with an eyebrow raised in curiosity, and I gave him a slight nod.

"Would there be any other details, Melnaexoch?" Estavan asked.

"A few piddling things, dearest Estavan, surely not worth your magnificent attentions," the harvester devil replied.

"I am quite sure that you have my attention, falxugon," the ogre mage said, as he absent mindedly stroked one of his polished, ornately carved horns. "Please, do go right ahead."

Melnaexoch's orange eyes flared brighter for a moment. He then pulled out a small roll of parchment from within his bejeweled, red silken vest and audibly snapped the seal. The devil then made a show of smoothening out the roll and clearing his throat, and finally began to read.

"Dear Estavan of the Planar Trade Consortium," the devil recited, "I wish to recount the following facts to you in the hopes that they will be the final inducements necessary. Upon agreeing to the meetings with me, you will receive a gratuity of four items, composed of a sword, rod, cloak and set of manacles..."

The ogre mage's eyes widened fractionally at the mention of the four mercurial-related items.

"...As they are not needed, due to Lath being doubly defeated, and Zaru being returned to his home; an opportunity to clear out the full amount owed; and a means to stop my mild displeasure from transitioning into full blown irritation." Melnaexoch then exceedingly carefully placed the written letter on Estavan's desk, his cloven feet so very accidentally scraping the fine wood floor.

The merchant lord spent what seemed like an unnecessarily long time reading the letter. Only when more scraping sounds came from near the feet of the advocate did I understand why. I hid my own smile with a brief cough that went unnoticed in the byplay between those two.

"And how much time do I have to make this decision, advocate?" the blue-skinned ogre asked.

"All the time in Baator, most magnificently honoured Estavan," the devil replied, his pointed-teeth bearing, ever-present smile near blinding in its insufferable brightness.

Estavan switched his gaze to me, with a pair of raised eyebrows and an inquisitive expression.

"Melnaexoch has been pre-paid for the next two lights worth of time," I said. "After that, your choice defaults to the first option." I smiled slightly and leaned forward in my seat. "The bonus of the advocate's absolute, unconditional silence - whether purposeful or accidental - was included in regards to the details of your finances if you choose the second."

The brief sound of scraping wood came from the arm-rests of the advocate's chair. When we looked at him, the devil's smile was perfectly fixed again, if slightly rigid looking.

That particular 'bonus' was something Rainbow had agreed to not reveal. However, I was under no such geas or restraints.

"I can personally recommend to you some of the most well-reputed money-lenders in Sigil, oh glorious Estavan," the devil proffered. "Please do not think that your options are one-sided. The friends of Baator are taken care of very well."

"Of course they do, Melnaexoch," Estavan said with a brief chuckle. "If any of those 'friends of Baator' existed, I'm sure that they would be treated very well. As far as my own choice goes -"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

1:14 PM. Small office adjacent to the Sigil Storefront, Sanctum. Mike/Sanctum's POV.

"- There would only be one reasonable option," Estavan said. "It was a rather lopsided proposition. A rather fine exercise in the art of agreements." He toasted me briefly with his golden goblet, his filed black nails wrapped around it. On his side of the desk was one of the most expensive wines Nessi had on record from this multiverse, contained in a chilled, smoky coloured crystal decanter. Going by the ogre mage's occasional sighs, it met with his approval.

"Thank you, Estavan," I said with a nod. "Though I can honestly only claim a stamp of approval on the plan. A most superlatively skilled advisor of mine all but put the entire operation in place by himself."

The ogre sipped again, and stroked his small, curled goatee. He nodded in understanding.

"Were you aware of the trap your advocate fell into?" I asked him.

"About my finances?" Estavan asked "Yes, indeed. What would be the penalty when his office submits their monthly pay reports to Baator?"

"Two centuries of free, all-inclusive service to you, Estavan," I replied with a smile. "Though, if by the odd chance you somehow choose to not employ him, that period of service can be outsourced to others of your own choosing."

The laughter he made in response would have been more impressive if it wasn't so high-pitched and nasally. My own brief chuckle was drowned in the sound.

"So. Mr. Rainbow Umbrella," the ogre began, "I have been wined and dined most excellently, as well as accommodated in a most delightful chair scaled to my own proportions." He indicated the half-reclined seat he was situated on with a wave of his hand. "On top of that, the... Now unnecessary mercurial items have been passed my way. A cautious gift that might be needed in five centuries. While I am exceedingly grateful for this most wonderful experience, I am honestly quite curious as to when the situation will change." He remained looking at me while he unconsciously checked his long, filed black nails.

"Exceedingly fair, Estavan," I said, and raised my own glass of apple juice in a toast of recognition. I sipped it, then returned it to the wooden desk between us. "My true aim with you is this: I'm seeking to hire you to work for my up-coming commercial empire in a rather prominent capacity."

"Indeed?" Estavan swirled the wine around in his goblet before taking another sip. "And what of the Planar Trade Consortium?"

I waved a hand dismissively. "They are on the way out," I said, and pushed a stiff piece of parchment his way. It was filled with writing.

He picked it up with his free hand and began to read. "This is an impressive list of cities across the planes and Primes, Mr. Umbrella. What is the purpose of showing it to me?"

"Not just a list, Estavan," I said with a smile to the ogre mage, "but a list of locations to a planar hub which I have exclusive access to, that has the ability to reliably create temporary or permanent portals to all of them."

He reexamined the list with a much more critical eye. "Sigil is not on here," he quietly said, as if to himself. "Neither are any of the godly capitals in the divine upper realms. An oversight?" He asked me, when he looked up from the parchment. The movement briefly showed off his impressive - though flashy - necklace, which was filled with spherical cut gemstones.

"Not as such, no," I said with an obvious shrug. "While portals to Sigil and divine realms are barred for very obvious reasons, there is nothing preventing me from making a portal near another portal that leads to those very locations. There would be no practical limit to such - I'd even be able to channel traffic through preexisting, established paths, such as the Gate Towns in the Outlands."

'Very, very interesting, Mr. Umbrella," he said with a smile. Estavan adjusted his posture and smoothed out his red silk kimono. "When would you imagine that the Planar Trade Consortium would be finished on its 'way out'?"

"I'm aiming for between one to two years," I replied. "The plan would be to replace all the established routes, networks and contracts. I'd absorb the cancellation fees if necessary, within certain sane limits. Perhaps in that time I'd be able to simply buy out the Consortium instead." I made an unconcerned sound. "I'm confident in eventual dominance of the multi-planar markets, with the only questions being of time and who would join me on the way up."

"This hub of yours," the large, reclined figure asked, "would it be possible for me to see it... Today?"

I nodded in agreement, and he favoured me with a large smile. His two tusks were highlighted by his powdered, pale blue skin behind them.

"Excellent," he murmured to himself a few times. "As far as the Consortium is concerned, their value would increasingly sink as your own raised itself up. Their controlling interests and contract rights could then be bought at a much reduced price to those already within the organization. Perhaps they could then be resold to a very friendly employer?"

I raised my glass to him in a toast of approval. "Correct, Estavan," I said. "I'm not interested in a mass of merchant lords or mere wealth. Instead, my focus is in high traffic, needs and wants fulfilment, market share dominance, and exclusivity. Are you interested? Or should I simply pay off your debt and wish you well in a collapsing empire?"

His smile took on a more pointed ambiance. "How about both?" Estavan asked. "Another no interest loan, due in about a year or so - with much more favourable conditions attached."

He continued to sip from his golden goblet while he waited. I drank from my own glass of apple juice while I considered the question.

"I'm open to negotiation," I finally replied, with a much more subdued smile.

Dearest Nessi? I thought into my shared head-space. Could you get Accord into a 'conference call'? Things are getting interesting.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Pandemonium.

"Oh dear, dear little books. There are so many reasons that true immortals wish to be not - I hope that my Sight of your fates change. Until then, I will keep on waiting, watching and continually realizing how easy it is to fool those that think they know so very, very much..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Baator.

"Your role as an advocate in Sigil is no longer required. Neither is your continued existence. Incompetence is not rewarded."

"But...!"

"Investigate this 'Rainbow Umbrella' and all those connected to him."

"As you command, Lord --"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ IWBH2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Unknown.

"Guild mother! We've... Lost another one. They just go into his shop and disappear. They somehow know that the person is a Garrote member, and --"

"Silence yourself. Hire and grant incentives to subcontractors through appropriate channels. More powerful than our rank and file: ur-priests, gatecrashers, loremasters, illithid savants, alienists, necromancers, hellfire warlocks, tainted scholars, beholder mages, fleshwarpers, incantatrix... Cancer mages, for all that it matters. Open our vaults. Have this challenge subtly promoted as a multi-planar competition, with great favours granted to the winners from the planes most powerful assassination organization - us. Don't speak to me again until you have at least demi-gods after him, understand?"

"Yes, guild mother."

"...Oh, Rainbow Umbrella. Please eat my competitors. Then, when you are done, I'll swallow your screams as I pull your entrails out, slowly…"