FSE

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Coaxial

By Arcane Reno

The club was packed tonight.

Elbows and shoulders jostled me from every side as I moved through the crowd, aiming for the bar. Pulsing dance music joined the chatter of hundreds of voices to create a virtual haze of sound, obscuring all individual conversation except that which was directed straight at the listener from close range. Tails of all shapes and sizes--some furred or fluffed, others scaled or bare skinned--brushed against me, most swaying to the pounding beat. Perfect atmosphere for keeping what was said discrete.

Scrub it. Finding this guy in here is going to be a pain in the tail.

Colorful lights played over the scene from water-filled lamps on the walls and ceiling, each one containing a variety of glowing sea creatures. Keeping with the aquatic theme, all of the tables, and the bar, were transparent, containing schools of vibrant fish. Jarrod, the owner of the place, had good taste in decorations, and this month's configuration was no exception. All of the floor tables were taken, of course, but depending how paranoid my contact was about eavesdroppers, I could open a new private booth with a switch on the far wall.

A hand landed on my shoulder. "Kid, I don't like this," growled a gruff voice.

I turned back to my partner in crime, putting on a quizzical look. "What, the fish? I didn't know you had a phobia, Dane. I've heard the sim-batter here is good. Wanna try some?"

His eyes wouldn't meet mine--they were too busy scanning the crowd with suspicion from beneath his combat helmet. "Quit the games, ya knew what I meant." His mouth didn't move this time, his voice echoing in my mind over our private comm channel. "And we're in public. Stick to av names. There's too many bodies here. How can I watch your back if I ain't sure about my own?" Did he really need to wear that absurd helmet in the public domains? It didn't even have ear slits, and with his long lobes pinned underneath to tune in to the sensitive audio equipment it held, he looked a little ridiculous. Not that many were likely to laugh at a canine that towered over most of the club's patrons, and was built like a tank. Even in net space, physical stature could be intimidating.

"Relax," I said, not bothering to comm. I gave him a grin and the hand on my shoulder a reassuring pat. "Half the people here are colleagues, and the rest are clients. This is one of the safest places on the net for us."

"That's what I'm worried about," Dane muttered. "It's the first place anyone looking for ya would check. How do ya know this guy's on the level?"

"The same way I know any of them are. They found one of our ads." Dane knew I made sure those weren't visible to anyone with a corp NP attached to their avatar data, and I ran traces on everyone who contacted me besides. This one had come up a little sparser than usual, but lacking anything to indicate corp. I rolled my eyes at his paranoia, and turned back to my original goal. Dane was always jittery when there was a new potential client. He also had a thing about crowds. And comms. And... a lot of other things, but _that_was part of what made him good at his job.

Several pairs of eyes caught mine as I worked through the press of bodies, each person giving a brief nod of acknowledgement after the flash of recognition. I returned the gesture, but kept moving. Colleagues didn't necessarily mean 'friends', but it did mean a degree of mutual respect. In our game, too many friends could be as dangerous as too few. I liked to stick to one. It was a quantity that had worked out well for me so far.

I reached the bar--Dane still in tow--and squeezed between a pair of bright orange salamanders that were busily chatting with the people beside them, while quite obviously ignoring one another. Standing next to someone with nearly identical av settings as yourself had to be awkward, when one had gone to such trouble to stand out. It made me appreciate my mostly stock arctic fox settings all the more. Enough of the truth to make a convincing lie, and wonderfully discreet.

"Want anything?" I asked Dane. Unsurprisingly, he shook his head, still eying the milling throng. I shrugged, and tapped the bar twice. A menu popped up, and I ordered my old standby; an 'Absalom Piledriver'. The menu scanned my av-data, and charged my account the measly five cyc. Seconds later, it produced a frothing, hissing, bright green concoction from a rippling hole in the bar top. I waited for the froth to calm down and quit trying to escape the glass, then knocked back a generous swig. Still tasted like licking a fully-charged battery. Perfect. The splash of apple at the end was a lovely touch too.

Seething beverage in hand, I turned and leaned against the bar. Half-price drink specials weren't the only reason the club was jumping. Industry standard dress avatars composed at least a third of the visible patrons, and there were likely more in the private booths. It was the end of the first corp-quarter, and all the middle-management was on the prowl, seeking to hire a hacker or two to dig up intel on whatever their competitors were up to for the next quarter. Or, in many cases, to take a shot at gumming up the works a bit. Anything to get ahead of the game.

"I've got five minutes to half-past," Dane said aloud, edging a bit closer to be heard without shouting at the top of his lungs. "Got an eye on this fragger yet?"

I shook my head. In this mess, there was no chance of spotting the guy first. He (or she) could be anyone. All they had said in the mail was to 'meet by the bar' at half past twenty-three sharp. I'd replied saying I would be the arctic fox in the blue robe, and that had been that.

"If he weren't promising double, I probably wouldn't have come," I said. "Even with a citizen local ID on the trace, I don't like these, 'Don't look for me, I'll find you' types."

Dane nodded in response. That was one benefit of his headgear. He could hear me perfectly without my needing to shout. I had my own custom gear of course, but I preferred stuff that didn't fall into the 'make me look like an idiot' category.

While taking another sip of Piledriver (the flavor had morphed into grape while I'd nursed it), a decidedly pointed movement caught my attention. One of the corps was shouldering his way through the crowd, headed right for me. I barely had time to grit my teeth before he was upon the pair of us, practiced ass-kissing in full effect.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he said, an ingratiating smile spread across his feline muzzle. "I trust I am not interrupting?" He was a calico, immaculately groomed, and appeared to have been molded from plastic and sewn right into his suit. All corpies looked that way; avatars far too perfect to be real, lacking any little personal touches.

"As a matter of fact, you are," I said, not bothering to raise my voice. If he wanted to talk, he could damn well lean forward and put those big, feline ears to use. By habit, I flicked my tongue against one of my back teeth, activating a visual trace scan. Not that there was any great need, I already knew what it would come up with.

"Oh..." his smile faltered, but he quickly regained his composure. "My apologies then. I assure you I will not take up much of your time." The too-wide grin achieved maximum sleazebag potential once more. "You are the infamous hacker they call "the wizard", are you not? I have heard much, and my people spent considerable resources attempting to track you down." He held out his hand.

I pointedly ignored it. "Uh-huh, and you must be Mr. Asshole." I jerked my thumb at Dane. "Asshole? Meet my friend, Frag Off. Frag off? Asshole." I'd finished the trace scan already. This guy was corp to his core, and was even logged in from a company computer, without a single bounce or screen to throw off the trace. Naughty naughty. What would his boss think about him drawing such an easily traceable connection between them and a known hat hangout?

His ears pinned flat to his head, the trace of a snarl marring his perfect features, but that quickly vanished as he took in the hovering form of Dane. His green eyes bulged, and he attempted to cover with a cough. I tried not to smile, but was only partly successful.

"Now, Mr. Wizard, there is no need for such language," he sputtered. "All I ask is a few moments of your time. I have been authorized to make considerably generous offers to a skilled member of your profession, and I can think of no better fit than yourself. Won't you be so kind as to hear me out?"

I knocked back another gulp. Cherries sizzled across my tongue. "Nope. You didn't get the memo, did you? I don't work for corpies. Ever." I saved the backtrace information for later. Maybe it would find its way into an Exora AI exec's inbox in the near future. They would certainly be on my blacklist, and a bit of leverage never hurt. I made to push past the calico, annoyed by having been gulled into this. Clearly, I needed to update my screening software definitions. Complete waste of--

He grabbed my arm, hissing as fiercely as my drink had. "Stop! I can pay double! Triple! You--"

His words cut off in a startled yelp as Dane swept in, transposed himself between me and the corp, seized the guy's shirt front in a single fist, and effortlessly hefted him to eye level. Which, of course, yanked the cat's kicking feet well clear of the floor. Cold amber met the calico's terrified green.

"You don't listen too good," Dane growled, his fist tightening. "He said, 'We ain't interested.' "

Patrons all around were beginning to stare, especially as Dane raised the corpie a bit higher, yanking a panicked yowl from his throat. The public parts of the net kept important parameters like physical strength, mass, and gravity to normal levels in most cases, and seeing a ham-fisted hunting dog hoist a fully grown person like they were a child was worth a double-take.

But, perhaps it was time to put the leash back on the hound. I tapped Dane on the arm. "Good job, sweetheart, but let's not ruin the whole party?"

Dane remained as he was for a few heartbeats more, glaring at the feebly struggling cat, before letting him drop to the floor with a thump that was audible even over the music. He propped up on his hands and knees at Dane's feet, gasping, though he certainly couldn't run out of breath on the net. Dane had already forgotten about him, turning to escort me toward the door amongst a small bubble of open space. I didn't argue. It was time to leave.

"Because he found an ad, eh?" Dane growled over comm. "You're too cocky for yer own good, kid."

"Yeah..." I frowned, doing a little math. "Doesn't make sense though. Only reason a corpie should find me is if he's a disgruntled employee, but that guy sure wasn't. Either something's wrong with my big tracer, or they're getting better at hiding. He pinged fine from my spot trace, though..."

"Maybe now you'll listen to me and stick to freelancin'," Dane said, prodding me in the shoulder. "This merc stuff is gonna get you fragged sooner or later."

I chuckled. "C'mon, admit it. You enjoyed that."

His scowl softened, if only a fraction. "Maybe a smidge."

"I'll bet he crapped his terminal live-side."

"I'd be slippin' if he didn't."

We were almost at the exit, unmolested even by the sim-skins that slid through the crowd, offering to lead patrons off to private rooms in the back (or transparent ones, if exhibition was more your thing). Knowing Jarrod, even those would be consistent with the theme, and be converted for aquatic trysts.

"Sid."

I stopped cold, causing Dane to run into me, nearly bowling me over before his steadying grip found my shoulder.

"Did you just--" Catching his gaze, the brief flash of confusion told me it hadn't been him who called my name. Had I imagined it? A phantom of the loud environment? But, that single word had cut through the all but vibrating atmosphere to find me.

Ever the good bodyguard, Dane too was scanning the crowd, searching for a threat while managing to loom protectively. "What's the problem, kid? See someone who'd be holdin' a grudge against a certain fox?"

He hadn't heard it? "No, but--" I cut off, the pair of us stiffening as a ripple seemed to pass through the milling mass of bodies. Dane moved in front of me, partly blocking my view, but not before I saw the rift opening in the crowd, space clearing as if by magic around a lone figure.

"Sid."

Definitely not my imagination, and not a question either. Whoever this person was, they had some sort of sweet vocal mod running, to be able to cut through all the ambient crap without even raising their voice. Calm and sonorous, with the impression that a shout would be a thunderclap.

Great. Who did I piss off now?

The crowd had rapidly turned into an audience, surrounding us. Dane stepped forward to challenge the newcomer using every inch of his imposing frame, no doubt with an expression that could split rock.

"What do ya want?"

I leaned to the side, trying to see around Dane, but it was like trying to peer through a brick wall. The crowd pressed in too close for me to edge past without shoving. A flash of short-cropped white fur showed through the gap between Dane's elbow and side, but then the mountain shifted, blocking even that.

"I'm here for the so-called 'wizard'," said the mystery voice, calm as if this were a brightly lit nexus with regular security sweeps. "He owes me a debt, and it's time for him to pay." A hint of a sneer crept into those rich tones. "I don't need to frag you, Dane, and I won't if you're a good boy and stay out of this."

They knew Dane's real name too, and they thought they could take him on directly? This was becoming interesting.

"Our operation ain't in debt to anyone. You're either sniffing down the wrong trail or lookin' to get yerself scrubbed." Dane's voice dropped to a more threatening register, which had its effect on some of the onlookers, who hurriedly stepped back out of the way, while others tried to squeeze in for a better view. "I'd suggest leaving. Now. While I'm still inclined to be friendly."

"The debt is not with your... operation." The contemptuous twist given to the word made my hackles rise. "It's a personal matter, and no concern of yours. Sid, if you don't quit hiding back there, I'm going to throw your bodyguard through that fish tank."

A murmur ran through the onlookers at the claim, and Dane's shoulders began bunching up, along with a slight widening of his stance. I'd had enough of being an observer in this little encounter. Stepping forward, I tapped Dane's arm, speaking softly, for his ears alone.

"Easy now. I'd like to find out what this comedian is all about before we scrub his ass. Let me handle it?"

He didn't move a muscle.

"Please?"

Still nothing. I sighed.

"I'll let you reset all of our security protocols?"

"And we move. Tomorrow," he growled through comm.

"Tomorrow? That's brutal, Dane. It'll take us all day just to clear the next spot, and--"

"Tomorrow."

"Fiiiine." Despite my complaining, his paranoia may have been reasonable in this case. Somewhat. Two apparent security leaks in one night was worth some concern. How had this person found our real names?

Dane stepped aside, giving me my first look at our antagonist. From the voice, I'd expected something polished and sophisticated in appearance--a high level corpie, or some kind of status symbol like a wraith mod--certainly not a rather scruffy panda in a silvery one-piece garment. His left eye was covered by a metal disk, which, upon closer inspection, was grafted directly to his skin by a layer of circuitry. A tiny blue light in the center flashed spasmodically, lending the impression that he was rapidly blinking his invisible eye. Both of his hands were covered by bulky metal gauntlets, also dotted with lights and criss-crossed with wires, and grafted to the av's body. Cyborg mods like these had been a fad several years ago, but were now considered tacky.

And he insults my abilities?

Spreading my hands wide in a placating gesture, I gave the barest nod of greeting, already pinging the panda with a spot trace. "I'm not one to leave things unsettled with a client, if that's who you are. Care to drop the threats and tell me what you're after?"

The single dark eye fixed on me with such intensity that I nearly took a step back. I'd had plenty of glares directed my way, sure, but that level of contempt, not to mention outright hate, was new.

"Your ignorance is part of the reason I'm here," said the panda. "You may call me Two-Tone, and you owe me more than you could possibly imagine."

"Never heard of you," I said flatly, "but let me guess. You're ex-security, right? You worked for someone I hacked, got fired for fragging up, and now you expect me to hold your hand and cry over it? Close?"

The panda, Two-Tone--what kind of name was _that?--_smiled, the expression a touch awkward and lopsided, with the skin on the left side of his face rigid from the cybernetics.

"Believe me when I tell you that security, current or former, is the least of your worries. But, I did want the chance to meet you in person, to confirm that you deserved it."

"Deserved what?" The spot trace came up dry. Not a single hit. My instincts were beginning to sound the alarm, and I surreptitiously moved my thumbs over the twin rings on my index fingers, brushing the tiny buttons there.

"Deserved to be taken down a few pegs. Did you really think you could get under the skin of the high and mighty that often and not pay a price for it?"

"If they hired you, they can't be all that high and mighty," I retorted, watching for any threatening movements, especially from the panda's cybernetics. One of the reasons they'd fallen out of fashion with the hat community was that they tended to be predictable when things got dicey, if you knew what to look for. "Besides, if you're just a cog hired to come after me, why make it personal? Can't we work something out?"

"No. It's always been personal. The pay is merely a bonus." That deformed grin was beginning to get downright unsettling. "If you're good, I might even tell you why before I scrub you."

That was more than Dane could let slide. Growling, he strode forward, reaching to grab the panda by the shoulders, perhaps treat him to the same ego deflating that he'd given the corpie. I started to smile. Dane had a thing about threats. Especially against me.

You've done it now, Two-Tone.

There was a metallic clank, audible even over the noise of the music_,_ coupled with a grunt of surprise, and that was when three-hundred pounds of bodyguard flew over my head. I gaped, momentarily stunned by the sight of Dane's hurtling form crashing down into a tightly packed group of onlookers, sending up a chorus of surprised shouts.

Here and there, avatars shimmered or pulsed, as some in the crowd activated various forms of protective gear. Many were also making for the link, ready to drop out of here before things got too ugly. Further back, three of the club's private security moved towards us, fighting their way through the press of bodies. Dane had yet to get to his feet--some kind of disabling gear? But, he hadn't phased out, and his av looked solid, so he hadn't been scrubbed or corrupted.

"I did warn him." Two-Tone could have been ordering a drink for all the emotion in his voice. A prickle of icy rage ran through me. Never mind that he had seemingly defied the physics of this node. This fragger thought he could push us around? Casually walk in and--

Spinning, I dropped into a crouch, thumbing the buttons on my rings. Abruptly, I was holding a pair of daggers, blades appearing to be made of glass, with a slender core glowing neon yellow. The feel of the smooth hilts resting in my palms made me smile. A creation of my own, masked well enough to fool the most thorough scans into believing them no more than a harmless accessory mod. This was the first time I'd ever had to pull them out here. Jarrod was going to be pissed.

Two-Tone's manic grin was taunting, his arms folded nonchalantly. I met the grin with a mirthless one of my own, and lunged, daggers flashing. All it took was a single slice from one of these, and the fight would be over, my opponent's avatar data corrupted to unusability in a matter of seconds.

One heartbeat, I was stabbing at his neck and belly, the glowing viral cores of my weapons leaving the blurred illusion of a light trail. The next, my left hand swished through empty air, while my right was caught in a crushing vice. My momentum propelled me bodily into Two-Tone, but I didn't get the chance to turn that to my advantage. A heavy blow connected with my midriff, and the next heartbeat, I was airborne, gritting my teeth and bracing for impact as the blue glow of the fish tanks flew towards me.

Whoever had programmed the decor must have been a stickler for detail. Rather than merely stopping my unplanned flight with an impressively loud thud, the glass wall shattered completely, sending a torrent of liquid and virtual fish (along with a now very wet fox) cascading into the remaining onlookers. I crashed down, colliding with several other bodies before hitting the floor in a heap. A rainbow colored fish hit my face with a wet slap, before flickering and dissolving into bits of data.

"Are you all right?" someone asked from miles away. I ignored them, recollecting myself.

No way. No way at all.

Nobody was faster than I was. Ever. The handful that knew about my av-sync rate thought I was insane for trying it, but it meant there was no such thing as an av that was quicker on the draw.

Until now.

I hauled myself upright, flicking my tongue against one of my back teeth to activate a self diagnostic as I searched the crowd for Two-Tone. There was no pain. No such thing as pain on the net, but shame and rage fought a bitter battle inside my head for which would come out on top. At least I hadn't pricked myself with one of my daggers. Wouldn't that have been a treat for the crowd?

Two of the security had reached Dane, and were conversing with each-other. One of them pointed, and Dane abruptly winked out of existence, his av forcibly shunted to the nexus outside. I would be getting the same treatment, as would Two-Tone, if they could single us out from the crowd long enough to target and ban us. Great. I shouldn't have expected help from that quarter, but did they have_to pick the one guy who was on _my side to kick first?

The diagnostic scan came up green--no major damage to my av data yet--just as something heavy thumped down to my left. I turned to find Two-Tone closing in amongst a rapidly widening clear space. Where had he come from? The ceiling? Reacting without thought, I spun my daggers, hilts facing the smirking freak of a panda, and squeezed the tiny triggers hidden on the pommels. The pounding music devoured the hiss of the twin viral darts shooting toward Two-Tone, and the dim lighting rendered them all but invisible, but I already knew the shots were perfectly aimed.

I didn't even see him move. It was as if his av glitched from nonchalant observing to protecting his face with one gauntleted arm while holding up the other in a closed fist.

"Cute. Shame you only have one shot with those, Sid. I could use more practice."

I stared as he held out the closed fists, revealing the fringed tips of my two darts, caught neatly between his fingers. He dropped them to the floor, the tiny pings sounding like a thunderous clatter. Impossible. Even with 100% sync, nobody was that fast, that precise, and everyone knew that 100% sync was suicidal.

"Who are you?" I growled, meeting that off-putting gaze of one real eye and one blinking blue light. "What are you?" Releasing the now dark dagger hilts, I allowed them to revert into rings once more, their viral charge depleted and useless for the time being.

"Bad with names, Sid? I already told you who I am," Two-Tone said lightly. "But, I admit I haven't told you everything yet. This was only a test."

"A test?"

"It would be bad form to scrub you here," Two-Tone said, seeming to ignore my question, "seeing how helpless you are right now. It was fun to kick your ass though. Let's do it again sometime?"

Everything within me wanted to wipe that irritating lopsided smirk from his face, but, much as it grated, I really was little better than helpless right now. I hadn't come here expecting a fight. I glared impotently.

"Glad you agree," Two-Tone said, though my silence had been more tongue-biting than acquiescence. "Service zone 18-4, the tenth of this week, at 24. Be there, and don't make me come find you instead. You wouldn't enjoy that."

If I didn't know better, I would swear that the cybernetic eye had winked at me. Without waiting for a response, Two-Tone took two steps, and leaped over the head of the startled security who had finally made it to us. The crowd parted like water before the rapidly moving panda, clearing a path for him to vanish through the link, escaping to the infinity of the net.

"Scrub it, I'm going to get shit for that," one of the enforcers growled, before turning back to me. "Sorry about this, Wiz, but you know the rules."

I shrugged, not bothering to flee or resist. I'd already been made to look like a complete idiot by the nightmare panda. By tomorrow, every hat on the net would know about it. No point in making more of a scene. I closed my eyes, bracing for the shattering of consciousness that would come with being banned and shifted out of the Backdoor Club.

Two-Tone, or whatever your name is, you picked the wrong fox to mess with.

***

The first sight as I removed my Synctec netvisor was both welcome and imposing. Dane stood over me, arms folded across his bare chest, wearing an expression that could crack concrete. I held up a hand, attempting to forestall him.

"Now, I know what you're going to say--"

"Do ya? Really?" he cut in, his words like knives. "Good, maybe that saves me the trouble of tryin' to beat sense into you." He whirled, pacing beside the inflatable couch as I levered into a sitting position. One hand went to his left ear, tugging on it as if he intended to yank it off. "Damn, kid, what happened in there? Who was that fragger? Did ya get him, or what?"

"No." The admission felt like acid on my tongue. "What happened was the worst tail whipping I've ever had, and I still don't have much clue as to why." I rubbed my eyes, the effects of being banned from the club leaving a slightly gritty feeling. Dane and I hadn't taken time to review after reconvening on the public nexus connected to the Backdoor Club, instead jumping offline immediately.

An old nature video I'd seen once sprang into mind. We'd run like feral rabbits with a fox on their heels. Were there still rabbits out in the wilds?

I shook my head to clear it. Why was it that when my mind that was racing, parts of it would wander off on these tangents, rather than focusing on the problem at hand?

The litany of muttered curses from Dane resolved into words once again, his tone markedly softer, though his pacing and ear tugging didn't relent. That habit was oddly charming, most of the time, but right now it felt like he was trying not to bite me. "You okay, kid?"

I nodded. "Angry, humiliated, but otherwise, fine." I got to my feet, stretching. "And I have some homework to do, see what I can find out about this Two-Tone character. No one moves the way he did. No one."

"Yeah." Dane's lip curled in disgust, and his knuckles made a loud crack as he stretched out his thick arms, fingers laced. Dane was one of the few who had never bothered to change their custom av appearance from that of their flesh-av. Not that I had any complaints. He claimed it was because he had no surprises. I knew from experience how untrue that was. "I really wish I knew what he whacked me with. Felt like pins goin' into my chest, and I couldn't even twitch."

"Could you tell if it was a full scale lockdown? Were you able to move your tongue or eyes at all? And, could you please put on a shirt?" Dane had a thing about not wearing one while jacked in. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, and as much as I appreciated the sight, that body was downright distracting.

"Oh, right." He wandered over to his own couch, grabbed a black tank top that had been carelessly tossed across the back and pulled it on, muffling his next words somewhat. "Far as I could tell, I wasn't goin' anywhere fast, and was stuck starin' at the ceiling besides. Was just startin' to get some feelin' back when those two guards popped me."

The tank top wasn't much help, but, at least it made it easier to keep my eyes on his face. "That sounds far too close to a full motor control block for my liking." Which of course was impossible, but, given the number of impossibilities our panda had shown us tonight, I wouldn't rule out anything. Even my own offensive gear kept to simpler solutions, and were effective in their own right. The ability to interrupt the uplink between a user and their av was... a little scary.

Dane eyed me, nodding in slow agreement. "Could've been. Think it was a bot?"

I shook my head vehemently. "No way. He was fast enough, and strong enough, but didn't talk or act anything like a bot, and even the best AIs don't think that way. Unless it's something brand new, and neither of us have heard of it?"

He mirrored my head shake. Good. At least we agreed that it wasn't likely. "Either way, you're keeping your promise, kid," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "We're out of here, tonight, and all our security is gettin' a reset."

I gave a meek nod. There was no talking him out of it when he was in this mood, and I wasn't exactly inclined to in any case. "There's more to it. Before he left, Two-Tone gave us a message." A half chuckle forced its way from my throat. "More like a taunt, really."

"Oh?" Dane turned rigid, arms crossing again. "What?"

"He said service zone 18-4, at 24 on the tenth."

Dane eyed me. "You're not planning to go, are ya?"

"Well..."

"Kid," he growled warningly.

I threw up my hands in exasperation. "Look, I don't know yet, okay?! I haven't even... I just don't know!" I glared at nothing in particular, sick of keeping the frustration of tonight inside. That was the worst of it--the not knowing. In the dark was not my favourite place to be. Especially when it involved something potentially hazardous to my health.

The heavy hand falling onto my shoulder nearly made me jump out of my skin.

"We'll figure it out," Dane said, all traces of anger gone from his tone. "And I'm sorry for barkin' at ya. I was--" he cut off, and I realized to my dismay, I'd begun to tremble beneath his grasp, a combination of stress and emotion surging up. "Damn, I'm sorry, kid," he finished, removing his hand.

My face grew uncomfortably warm beneath my fur, making me thankful that it was red on my real body, though in truth a blush would be hidden on my avatar just as well. Scrub it, I was not a child, giving into these bouts of weakness, just because I'd been beaten up. What Two-Tone had done had been painless, physically, and nothing_compared to what I'd endured at the hands of my father. Yet, still, losing _fragged. Especially in public.

"I'll head over to the next site, make sure it's clear," Dane said. "Maybe you can start packin' up?"

"Fine," I muttered, seizing hold of myself and turning to face him as he pulled on a heavy, hooded black coat. "Though I'm going to send out a few messages first, and see what intel I can dig up."

Dane nodded, then left without another word, the door to our tiny office/apartment clicking closed behind him. Heavy footfalls echoed on metal stairs, then faded to silence. I let out a sigh, my hand falling on the back of a padded computer chair, gripping it hard enough to imprint the fabric, and forcing the remnants of trembling in my limbs to cease. Despite the relatively small size of our office, it felt oddly empty with Dane gone.

I took a quick visual stock of the room. The small stacks of boxes full of our personal possessions were all but ready to go, though the computers and travel couches would need to be packed away, along with a handful of choice finds from our current home (the chair included). It wasn't the best location we'd set up shop in, but nor was it the worst. The warehouse below was long abandoned to any save the feral rats, and this old office had the luxury of both privacy and an adjoining bathroom with still running water--as well as surprisingly little dust. It seemed a shame to leave it so soon. Usually, we got at least another month out of a spot like this. But, I trusted Dane to have a decent alternative already picked out. He always did.

The chair was beginning to look inviting, and I wasn't going to spurn it. It never ceased to amaze me how tiring it could be to lie on a couch. Proof that body was subservient to mind, I suppose. Especially when my mind was telling my body it had been flipped around and thrown the length of a nightclub.

Next time, Two tone, I'm--

No. This wasn't the time to indulge fantasies of any sort. Reeling in my emotions, I wheeled myself over to where my computer sat quietly humming on top of a scarred desk, and waved a hand over the interface to wake the display. I opened up the messenger program and composed a short mail, addressing it to a long list of names. Most were hats like myself, many of whom owed me a favor. The rest were of the sort who kept their eyes and ears open, both online and off, and were willing to part with information so long as the exchange was mutual. Most of those owed me too. I sat back, crossing my arms and allowing myself a tiny, satisfied grin.

How good are you at keeping your secrets, panda?

It didn't take long for the first ping of a reply to ring out. I popped open the message, containing my eagerness. 'Sting' was a prick, and a cocky prick to top it off, but the two of us shared a grudging respect--and rivalry--that could almost be called friendship. Before I'd become as security paranoid as I was today, I'd even made the mistake of exchanging private mail IDs with him. It allowed us to arrange deals and meetups, or discuss illicit exploits, safe behind the added privacy of the IDs locked to our flesh-avs.

Scanning the reply, my grin rapidly turned into a scowl.

Never heard of a panda named Two-Tone, but I hear they handed you your own tail. Tell me next time you plan a party, Wiz. Sounds like a good time.

The fragger didn't even have the decency to ask if I was okay! Of course, if he'd already heard the story, he would know I hadn't been scrubbed, but still. It was a matter of principle.

More replies began to ping into my mailbox. Most were as terse as the first had been, and equally informative. Half were already aware of what had transpired at the Backdoor Club. A handful asked if I was okay, and more if this counted as fulfilling their 'favor'. The latter I didn't bother responding to, though the former received a, "Yes, fine, thanks," in reply.

As the ping-ing grew less frequent--not everyone would be online at these early morning hours--I reluctantly began the process of breaking down our office. Foodstuffs, the majority of it NuTri mass-produced protein bars, went into a blanket along with our small supply of hygiene items. Aside from Dane's brush. He hated it when I touched his brush; claimed I mucked it up with my red hairs, and that he could never get them out of his own coat. It was tempting to hide it somewhere, perhaps with a few select bits of fur attached, just to get a rise out of him. Then again, now was likely not a good time to be antagonizing my partner.

The remainder of the bedding wrapped around the first blanket, which I tied into a neat sack. Then came the deflating of the couches, followed by disassembling Dane's computer. Most of our things would fit inside the two ancient shopping carts we kept--currently parked on the warehouse floor--but if I wanted to take the chair as well, it would need to be wheeled by itself. It had been ages since I'd had a decent chair though, and I was not going to leave this one behind. Dane could whine about it as much as he wanted.

Another ping caught my attention, briefly raising my hopes, until I walked over to the computer and read the name on the message.

I've been telling you all along, Wiz, the message declared,you gotta keep your tail clear of New Absalom business! This whole thing stinks of one of their Infiltrators. Either that, or you've got an angry long-lost cousin fishing for you. Good luck! Just don't bring them around here.

The grin crept back to my face. Lenny, "Loopy", was true to his nickname. Some rumors claimed he lived in a lead lined bunker, ready for when 'they' came. Whoever that was supposed to be on a given month. I mostly kept him on my list for a laugh.

The amusement was brief, sadly, and in its wake the brooding returned, as I began to shut down my machine in preparation to leave. My jangled nerves were settling, allowing me my focus. Two-Tone presented a puzzle, and I'd always been the type to devise shortcuts around puzzles rather than solving them the 'proper' way. Information in black and white was infinitely superior to that which was fragmented and required piecing together. Yet, just like the challenging lessons my father had programmed my prof to give me as a child, this was a puzzle I needed to figure out, or face consequences.

He was faster than I was. That meant by necessity a higher sync rate. Incredibly dangerous, but undoubtedly true. Your average hat was content to run at 60%, maybe a bit more for the extra daring. I took a big risk running at 75%. Worth it? Absolutely. But, higher than that was sheer madness. Misstepping once, getting yourself scrubbed, could have lethal results. It might even happen in heavily protected nodes like games, if there was any sort of bleed-through on the av protection filters.

He was more insane than me, but did that mean he was reckless?Hard to say, based only on our brief encounter. Two-Tone had been pure confidence, secure in his ability to fold me up and put me in his pocket if he so desired. He'd also known far more than he should have, particularly for someone randomly hired to take out Dane and I. How long had he been hunting us down? Would he be under pressure from those who had hired him to finish the job? For that matter, how did I know he had been hired? All I had to go on was his word, and who knew how honest someone trying to kill you would be?

Thunder growled outside, making me jump, then wince. The prospect of moving out during a storm was the perfect way to top off a night like this one. Maybe getting dunked in the fish tank was a harbinger for a wet fox offline.

Finishing with the packaging of my computer, I rummaged around in one of the boxes, pulling out my own heavy, black coat--a match for Dane's, though half the size. I traced a hole in one of the sleeves, following the stitching to a heavily worn patch over the pocket. Serviceable still, like most of our clothing, but soon enough, we would need to do some offline shopping to prepare for the onset of winter. The nights were already getting cold, and the odds of our next location having heat were next to nil. I suppressed a shiver.

Are you cold tonight, Two-Tone? Or do you have a nice, cushy apartment to sleep in? Somewhere out there, a real person was behind that cyborg panda. Finding out who that was might be the key to the puzzle, though if they were as much a phantom on the net as it seemed, then I was about as close to having that key as I was to scaling the Synctec tower naked without a rope. It was difficult enough to break through an identity mask and trace a typical hat--even a corpie-serving cog--and Two-Tone appeared to be anything but typical.

Heavy footfalls rang on the stairs outside, precluding the door swinging open. Dane strode in, flinging back his hood, water streaming from his coat to puddle on the floor. My partner glanced around, his gaze flashing over my attire, then nodded approval.

"Good work, kid. It's pissin' out there, but the new place is good to go. Y'all set?"

I nodded, picking up the makeshift sack. "A few of your things to grab, but otherwise we're packed. No, I didn't touch your brush."

Dane let out a low chuckle, nudging me with an elbow as he strode past (which nearly upended me onto my tail). "Good. I already have enough reasons to skin ya. Soon as the carts are loaded, we're blowin' this joint. I think you're gonna like the new place, kid. There's a surprise there for ya."

I paused, my brow furrowing as I eyed Dane with suspicion. He never_grinned like that. What was the devious dog plotting? "This 'surprise' isn't the sort that involves you, me, a few candles and a nice meal, is it?" Followed by _other things involving the two of us, but I left that unsaid. Dane's eyes had already popped wide with indignant shock, which was quite satisfying.

"You sure got some funny ideas in that foxy head of yers." Dane grabbed a pair of boxes, shaking his head as if to clear it from a bad smell. "C'mon, kid. Time to skedaddle."

Hiding my smirk, I followed my partner out the door.

***

"That'll be one million cyc."

"What!" Dane's response echoed the incredulity of my own, though his came with the addition of a low, threatening growl, and rising to his feet to loom over our associate--no, swindler. I laid a hand on his elbow, hoping to prevent anything rash, though my own arm shook with barely contained anger.

"You heard me," Sting said, leaning back and tossing one arm over the back of his side of the booth we were seated in. "I know I didn't stutter."

"Sting," I said, speaking slowly so that the tremble didn't migrate to my voice. "How long have we known each-other?" My hand hadn't left Dane's elbow, and, thankfully, he was beginning to ease back into his seat. The tension didn't leave his posture though, and I only removed my touch in hopes that Sting wouldn't notice. There was still an even chance that my bodyguard wouldn't hold as tight his temper as all three of us would like.

Sting shrugged his broad shoulders--he'd chosen a new template for his av since I'd seen him last, a sort of lion/insect hybrid that showed a taste for fantasy as much as his ridiculous price quote did. "Dunno. Four years? If you can call it 'knowing'."

"Right. Four years, Sting. And in that time, how often have I sold you short?"

He tilted his head to the side, pursing his lips and allowing a black serpent's tongue to flick between them. He began counting off, mouthing words with each extended finger. Behind his bushy mane, the hovering, barbed tip of his insectoid tail twitched. Once he'd reached a silent 'ten', he paused and looked back at me, though his gaze was unreadable behind the dark glasses he wore. He held up his hands, waggling his fingers at me. "Sound about right to you? I'm a generous sort, so I didn't count the time with the Aleph labs crack."

Gritting my teeth, I nodded. "Fine. And I won't count the Reaktion source dive incident. On my count, that puts you at twelve, and me at ten. By that math, you owe me, Sting."

"Eleven, actually. I didn't feel like counting on my toes."

"Fine, if you must include that time on the Abbadon server." Okay, maybe I had taken all of his gold, but surely doing it in a gaming node shouldn't count! Even if I had also grabbed the rare armor he'd been trying to loot at the time.

His snake's tongue flickered, as if trying to taste my words. Otherwise I might have been telling him the liveside time. "One million cyc."

Dane muttered a curse under his breath. I groaned. "Come on, Sting. You're killing me here! You wouldn't charge half that to anyone else!" It wasn't an insurmountable sum, but it would drain our current funds dry, and require a lucrative side job for the rest. Out of the question with our timetable.

Sting leaned forward, resting his folded hands on the table, a note of painstaking exactness in his tone, as though he were explaining to a child. "Let's review, shall we? You came to me. Not the other way around. That means I set the terms." He held up a finger. "First off, you want me to get involved in your mess, and possibly piss off the same people who are after you." He ticked off another finger. "Second, if this guy can knock you around the net the way it sounds, I'd rather not come within two nexuses of them."

He shrugged, looking from me to Dane and back again. "Call me a coward if you want, but I know I'd never want to go toe-to-toe with you guys, and if this Two-Tone is worse?" His mouth twisted as though he'd swallowed something sour, and the stinger tip of his tail quivered. "Getting scrubbed isn't something I much enjoy, especially if they're the type with the will and the way to make it permanent."

"I promise you, no one would know you were involved," I protested, my hand knotting to a fist on my knee. "Scrubbed? Sting, if you help me out here, they wouldn't have enough information to so much as send you a mail."

"How do you know that? Damnit, Wiz, they might've followed you_here_." Sting's hands tightened on each other, and his head twitched as if he wanted to look over his shoulder at the rest of the café. Despite myself, the gray fur on my nape rose, and I had to resist the urge to scan the area again. I'd done it when we walked in, and the atrium-style café hadn't pinged with anything suspicious.

A colorful bird suddenly flitted from the interlaced green branches above our heads, landing on the booth and making both me and Sting start.

Damn. Now he had me jumping at shadows too_._ I eyed the bird, frowning. The coding on them was interesting. Not strictly part of this node's background, but simple individual AIs. Such vivid coloring too. Had there really been such creatures in the world?

"We weren't followed," Dane said, bringing me back to reality. "I made sure of that." He crossed his arms over his chest, managing to do a credible job of looming even from his seated position, daring Sting to challenge his assertion.

Sting didn't rise to the bait, waving a dismissive hand. "Fine, but that's still no guarantee about later. You're assuming... what? You beat him once, and he goes away and leaves you alone forever? If I help you--and I'm not saying I _will--_what makes you so sure your panda won't come knocking on my door next?"

It was time to offer the prize. I leaned forward, lowering my voice to a near whisper. "He was running at 100%, Sting."

Now it was Sting's turn to be slapped in the face. "What?! That's insane. How-" he cut off, shaking his head. "No, I don't care. It's not enough. Even if he is that crazy, and you take him out, that might not be the end of it. If that weren't enough, you're asking me to set up a local net singularity, inside a service zone, and give you the key. Oh, and why don't I do it in five days too?" He grimaced. "Do you have any idea how tricky it is to make one of those inside normal net space?"

"Of course I do," I lied. "That's why I came to you in the first place. You're the only one I know who can pull this off." If all else failed, I might be able to make one myself, but the mindset needed to program the maze-like layers of a good singularity sub-node, not to mention the SZ protocols, had never been my strong suit. "I'm willing to admit you're the best bet I've got." That part was true. It didn't hurt. Much. I gritted my teeth, forcing the next words out. "Please, Sting."

The lion remained silent for a long moment, staring down at his hands. His tongue flicked rapidly, and I couldn't help wondering how he might react if I caught the darting thing and gave it a good tug. But, amusing as the image was, I quashed the urge. It wouldn't exactly be good for business.

Finally, Sting looked up, jabbing a finger at me. "Okay, here's how it is. You're an asshole." He pointed at Dane. "He's... well, himself." He had to speak up (and rather rapidly) over the rising rumble coming from Dane. "But aside from that, I don't want to see you guys get yourselves scrubbed." He paused, as if abruptly recalling a fact of small importance. "You do realize they want to pop you while you're inside an SZ so they can break your mask and trace you, right? That's assuming you survive the hacker sickness from getting scrubbed at your insane sync rate."

I nodded, but he held up a hand, forestalling me as I opened my mouth. "You are a determined, crazy fragger, you know? But I'll do it, for my usual rate. On one condition."

Of course. I knew it had seemed too easy. Sting wasn't the type to be lead by compassion. "Name it."

His smile made my skin crawl. "Before I do anything, you're going to crack into the security HQ for this sector, and put up a banner. Nice and large, you understand? Something that'll get noticed quick."

I stared at him, disbelieving. "A banner?"

He nodded, his grin stretching wider as he gestured extravagantly. "You heard me. A banner that says, 'Sting's the best.' Do that, and you'll have your singularity." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "Two days should be enough time for you."

Had he truly gone insane? Forcing calm into my voice, I said, "Sting, there's ridiculous, and then there's what you just asked me to do. It's been tried before, and I'm not in a hurry to repeat others' dumb mistakes. If security even sniffs a breach in their defenses, they immediately kick into bunker mode and start tracing every ping within the nexus. Why not have me hack into the Synctec mainframe while you're at it?" Sting spread his hands, looking the very image of benevolence and generosity, though his greasy smile ruined the attempt. "That's my final offer, Wiz. Take it or walk. You wouldn't be here if you thought you could win this on your own, so unless you want to get fragged..." He waved his hand in an arc through the air, appearing to savour the words. "Sting's the best."

I opened my mouth to refuse. This was pointless. No matter how useful it would be to have Sting lay a surprise for Two-Tone as insurance, I was done with being played the corpie. I'd figure out another plan, maybe take a crack at engineering my own singularity trap. I had the general idea down--

"Kid." The single word, along with Dane's hand on my arm, shut my mouth so fast my teeth must have clacked. I looked up at him, my tail twitching spasmodically. Why did he have that determined set to his jaw? Surely he wasn't thinking of accepting?

"We'll do it." My bodyguard sounded like a judge pronouncing sentence.

Fragging mother--

His grip tightened on my elbow. Not painful of course, but a definite warning. I shot him the dirtiest look I could muster, though its effect was sorely diminished by his lack of looking my way. My tail lashed at the red leather of the booth. Oh, Dane had some _serious_explaining to do once we were alone.

"I... I guess it's a deal then." Sting sounded as shocked as I felt, though whether it was due to our acceptance, or that Dane had been the one to agree was unclear. His tongue flickered. "I'll do this much for you. I'll get started on the singularity now. But don't expect to get it before you deliver!" This last was added hastily as Sting slid himself out of the booth, signalling an end to the meeting.

"Deal," Dane growled, rising himself and tugging me along with him. "We know where to find you."

I let out a half-strangled noise that I suppose was meant to be agreement, though coherent words were about as far from me as our current objective. Into security HQ. In two days!

I looked up, half considering calling after Sting and telling him to forget it, but he had already stepped onto the café node's lander and dropped out of the node, his insectoid tail dissolving from my view like some ancient pixel based image effect. Dane began striding towards the lander as well, and I had to jump to follow him.

"Dane, you're doing that thing again."

"Relax," he tossed over his shoulder. "We'll talk outside." Casually, he strolled past the busty, bowing service AI (a squirrel with alarming pink fur), stepped onto the bright orange square in front of the glass doors of the café, and vanished.

"Come back soon! Sign up for our mail points system and earn free drinks!" the squirrel chirped. Gritting my teeth, I ignored it and dropped out of the node.

The nexus outside was filled by avs of every shape and size milling about, browsing among the variously gaudy or quaint node portals that blinked or waved or shimmered at them. I glanced about for Sting, but he'd already made his escape amongst the crowd. Dane, on the other paw, stood waiting for me before a marble fountain in the small square in front of the café, arms crossed over his chest in a decent imitation of the heroically posing general immortalized among the fountain's spray. I walked over to him, weaving my way through the crowd.

"Okay," I said, putting my hands on my hips and glaring as I came to a stop in front of him. "You, mister, need to tell me what's going on behind that attractive face. What's the big idea getting us into such a crazy job?"

Dane eyed me over his muzzle, a faint grin belying the growl of his tone. "First off, you've got some nerve talking about crazy jobs, kid. Second, don't worry--I know a guy."

"You know a guy," I repeated, staring at him. Dane always 'knew a guy', but... I glanced around, lowering my voice, even though the passerby were ignoring us completely. "A guy who can get us into security HQ."

"Yeah."

"And who won't snitch on us. Or get us banned from all public nodes. Or demand ridiculous sums of payment."

Dane shrugged. "Yeah."

"How can you be sure?"

Another shrug. "He owes me."

"And you've kept this a secret until now."

"Didn't seem relevant 'til now. Trust me. We were in the same platoon. I kept him off a sonic mine. He works with security now, in HQ, on the night shift. He'll do it."

I shook my head. "Unbelievable. One of these times, you'll tell me you've got a connection in the Synctec tower, and I'll have to believe it. You're something else, Dane."

"Just doin' my job, kid."

"Which is why we make a good team."

"Don't mean you get to be cocky about it."

I grimaced. "Fine. Now, how do we get your guy to do this?"

Dane looked away, a distant expression entering his eyes. "Lemme handle it."

I recognized that look. It meant he wanted to keep some little piece of information to himself, and no amount of prying, wheedling, or whining would get it out of him. For once, I was content to leave it alone. So long as it took care of Sting's absurd request, I would be happy.

"Alright, Mr. Mysterious, I'll let you take care of business then. In the meantime, I'm going to head back to my pad and work on the banner script for our friend, as well as a few little gear mods."

"Fine," Dane said, nodding and pulling his worn leather jacket mod closed over his chest. "Meet you at our place in a couple hours." I'd never understood why he did that on the net. It wasn't as if his av could get cold. Guess it was true what they said about offline habits.

"Okay," I said. "Don't get lost."

He snorted, then turned and walked away without another word. I stood for a moment, watching him plow a path through the other avs. They parted for him with a certain sense of subdued awe, which never failed to strike me as funny. Here, in a place where flashy avs with as many 'notice me!' mods as possible were common, Dane's presence still made itself known. Maybe it was the size, or maybe it was his demeanour. I'd never managed to figure it out.

No matter which it was, it always made me appreciate that he was on my side.

***

On the morning of the tenth, I awoke to the unexpected sound of snoring. I rolled carefully out from under the thin blue blanket and sat up on the edge of the bed, glancing over at Dane. My partner lay sprawled out on his back, mouth hanging open, a line of drool trailing from his lolling tongue onto the pillow. The inviting maw might have been a tempting prospect for a prank or a tease another time, but my eyes felt gritty, and the thin stream of sunlight leaking past the tattered gray curtain over our new hideout's window stung, making me blink.

I shivered, shaking off the vague remnants of last night's bizarre dreams, which had jolted me out of sleep too many times to count the past couple nights, despite the welcome new sleeping arrangements. The bed had been Dane's big surprise. It had been awhile since we'd had a proper one, either individually or shared, and how he'd managed to stumble across this abandoned, surprisingly intact and unoccupied condo was a secret he hadn't yet shared, and wasn't likely to. I suspected he'd cleared out the remains of the previous inhabitants, a task few others would have been willing to undertake, despite the spoils of a place with good insulation, working electricity and plumbing, and some furniture in reasonable shape.

Rising to my feet, I slipped out of my sleeping robe and pulled on a pair of pants and a shirt, tossing the robe onto a beat-up chair in the corner of the room. The rise and fall of Dane's chest, the occasional twitch of his eyelids or limbs, was difficult to tear my eyes from as I dressed. His own sleeping robe lay open, exposing a sizable expanse of sculpted pecs. The outline of his form through the blanket was magnetic, an alluring sight helping to soothe the dull ache behind my eyes. I didn't believe in any god, but if that body wasn't divine, I didn't know how to code a mod for changing fur colour.

I rarely had the chance to see Dane sleeping. He almost inevitably woke before me, though I supposed his late night meeting with his security contact had disrupted his freakishly accurate instinctual alarm clock. I had no idea when he'd jacked out and come to bed after I'd turned in for my own fitful sleep, though I vaguely recalled waking from a dream of running from multiple giant pandas to find his comforting presence ensconced beside me and already snoring away.

Ungluing myself from the shameless ogling, I padded into the condo's tiny common area. Here, the windows had no curtains, instead blocked by a large piece of sheet metal leaning against the outside of the structure; perhaps the remnant of some long-ago planned upgrade or repair to the building. I flipped on the light, illuminating our couches and computer rigs. Dane had of course shut everything down last night, so I had to plug the machines back in and begin the startup. He'd become even more anal than usual the past week, insisting that we shut the power off and unplug all network connections when we finished on the net, rather than simply leaving things in sleep mode.

While our computers booted and re-established their net links, I stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of protein bars and a nutri-shake. Another precaution Dane had demanded was investing some of our funds into 'emergency supplies'. The food was cheap, naturally--it still came from a nutri-faber like everything else--but unlike the typical bars, these promised extra energy and fewer synthetic compounds. I seriously doubted the latter, but grudgingly admitted that they did taste better than the standard bars, which was good, considering we now had enough of them to last for more than a month.

Wandering back into the common area, I plunked down on my travel couch and set my second protein bar on the small table beside it. Scooping up the computer's interface, I input my password. The landing screen popped open, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding when I saw an 'unread message' notification at the corner of the display. I clicked it open.

Wiz, the message read, I saw your work at central last night. They had it down quick, but not before a pic got out from the scry feed of a mutual friend. Don't know how you swung that, but it doesn't matter. I'm a fucking legend now, and you're all paid up. Here's your singularity. Go kick some panda ass.

The message was signed with 'Sting's the best'. I couldn't help but grin a little. Infuriating as the guy was, he'd held up his end of the deal. There were two attached files, one of which was a picture, the other bearing the mark of netside data. I sent that one to my pad, where I could inspect it once I jacked in.

The pic showed a view from inside the node used for sector eight's security HQ. The image was partially blocked by the back of a burly security officer, but in the background, on the wall above a bank of displays, my banner flashed bright orange. Which 'mutual friend' had Sting meant? Hopefully not one I'd pissed off recently. Scry feeds were easy enough to program, but slipping one into a security hub was another impressive feat, one that made Dane's paranoia feel a bit more justified.

Setting the display aside, I reached under the couch and pulled out my netvisor, flicked it on, and waited for the three lights on its side to flicker to green. I settled back onto the couch, allowing the inflatable foam surface to mold to my body in a comfortable position, then slipped on the visor. Only a hint of light crept in around the edges. The four feedback pads at my temples and forehead pressed against my fur. Then, true darkness swallowed me, dropping me into the world of the net with the familiar sensation of falling from a great height.

I blinked rapidly as the darkness transitioned to hazy gray, then resolved into a plain white room with several color coded doors. The brief vertigo of shifting from real world sensory input to my av vanished like a forgotten dream. Apparently the sensation was worse for some people, especially if their avs were vastly different from their real bodies, like Sting's. Dane claimed he didn't feel it at all. It had never bothered me much. In a lot of ways, this felt more like the real me.

I strode towards the blue door, and pressed my hand against the recognition pad attached to the wall next to it. A blue beam scanned my palm, and then a query popped up at the top of the pad.

'Password?'

"If your opponent has a temper, seek to irritate him."

The door swung open on silent hinges. Anyone who managed to make it through my primary security and into my personal machine wouldn't be allowed into my pad. Even if they somehow knew that my password was the title of an old book by a long forgotten general, they still wouldn't get past the av recognition without some pretty impressive hacks.

Inside, soft blue light from multiple displays along the walls coated the room. I twirled my forefinger in a clockwise motion, bringing the ambient light up, and strode to the display for my personal communications. A glowing red box hovered in the holographic boundaries. I tugged it out, the edges warping like stretched gum as it crossed the threshold, then snapping back to normal. A small ripcord dangled from one side of the box. I gave it a firm yank, and the sides of the box dissolved into pixelated fog, leaving me holding a small, floating orb, made up of rotating concentric silver rings around a glowing purple core.

"Careful with that."

I almost leaped out of my fur, whirling around and searching for the intruder. Belatedly, I realized the voice was Sting's, and it was coming from the orb. Stupid. It was all the panda's fault, putting me on edge.

"I'm sure you know how these work, but I'd hate for you to scrub yourself with it after I worked so hard," Sting's voice went on. Even in recording, it held his air of smugness that made me roll my eyes. "This one's got an extra trick to it; a little something I threw in for free. Friend or foe recognition is almost impossible with explosives, but I managed to rig it to reject whitelisted avs before they get sucked in. Go ahead, stick your finger into the core and let it scan you. Have the big guy do it too."

The rotating rings seemed innocent enough... It shouldn't be able to go off until I'd set and primed it, though I didn't know enough about the coding style to recognize any abnormalities.... But, what was the worst that could happen in my own pad? This was only half of the trap--the 'key' which would pull anyone caught in its vacuum blast into a miniature 'death node', filled with nasty stuff like dissolving mists, webs of razors, and other goodies designed to frag the trapped av instantly. The hidden sub-node would be programmed in the service zone, and the key would only work from close range. Although, getting sucked through and spat out by the vacuum blast could still unravel an av if there was any dangling code...

I jabbed into the purple light.

One of the rings bounced off my finger, shooting a twinge of false numbness up through my wrist. Immediately, the rings ceased spinning. The glowing core of the device pulsed, its hue flickering to red, then to green. A soft chime rang out.

"Atta boy," Sting's voice said. "Now you don't need to stealth the key and set it in the node if you don't want to. You can keep it on you and trigger it when your boy gets too close. Good luck!"

I tugged my finger free as the rings began to spin once more. How far did I trust Sting? He'd come through on the deal, yes, but how did I know he wouldn't try to pull a stunt that would get both me and Two-Tone scrubbed? At my sync levels, the backlash of hacker sickness would be no joke, especially in a service zone.

"Kid. Wanna let me in?"

For the second time that morning, I jumped, and felt like an idiot. This message came through our comms, but with my focus on Sting's creation, it still sounded like Dane was right behind me. I slid my tongue over the tiny pressure point in my back tooth, triggering the channel off 'whisper' mode.

"Morning, gorgeous. Your guy came through for us, and so did Sting. I was just looking over our new toy." Turning, I pointed at the door and snapped my fingers. It slid open, allowing Dane to walk in from my local machine's lander. I held out the orb to him. "Here, stick your finger in this."

"What?" He squinted at the singularity key, then at me, scowling. "Why? And that better not be a flirt. S'too early for your antics."

I affected a pout. "What, and miss the chance that you'd crack? But, no, it's not. Special gift from Sting. He's made it portable with active friend or foe. Don't ask me how."

"Huh. Guess we should give the guy more credit." Dane took the orb and jabbed a thick index finger into it without hesitation. Once more, the device ceased spinning, flickered red, then back to green, adding Dane's av-code to its recognition sequences before settling into its normal purple.

"I cooked up some tweaks to our combat mods while you were out last night," I said. "I finally cracked that 360 degree vision issue with your helmet, and I even managed to increase the fire speed on my darts by a half cyc. Our av armor is all patched up. Still don't know how you manage with all that bulk in yours, but I shaved a code strand that was causing movement lag in your arms. Should run smoother."

"Good."

Dane handed back the singularity key, and I called up my personal interface with a pinching gesture, and stored it in my av's cache.

"Think we should go in disguise?" I nodded at the display resembling a neon portal on my right. "I could slip into my flesh-av, or one of those sexy 'action' skins we bought last year."

"No point. He's already made our mains."

"True. Might save us some hassle if we run into maintenance though. On the other hand, I could just gear us with maintenance outfits. Think I should? Or maybe-"

"Kid."

Dane's hand on my shoulder stopped my babbling cold.

"Yeah?" Part of me wanted to pull away from the sudden touch, and another part ached to lean into the false warmth. I fought both urges.

"It'll be alright. We'll scrub this fragger and be done with this dumb-ass business."

I swallowed hard. My av wasn't trembling, was it? Stupid unconscious twitches. Or maybe it was sync lag. In my own pad. Yes, had to be that.

"I don't know him, Dane." The words popped out on their own. Dammit. I'd meant to agree, put on my self-assured air. But, somehow, without even trying, Dane had sussed the truth. As usual.

"Don't matter."

I turned to face him, his hand, sadly, falling from my shoulder. "It does matter. If I don't know him, I can't plan how to beat him. 'Know your enemy and know yourself, and you will always emerge victorious.' I think I have half of that equation, but the other's one big fat variable. I don't like variables."

Dane's expression was strange. The perpetual scowl formed by his brows and markings remained, but he studied me with an intensity I wasn't used to seeing from him, calculation in those amber eyes. He said simply, "'To know your enemy, you gotta become your enemy.' Or somethin' like that. Kid, before we ran into that panda, you were one of the cockiest fraggers I knew. I think ya know him already."

I stared at my partner. "When did you read Battlecraft?"

He shrugged. "While ago. Ya leave it lyin' around all the time. Poked through while you were in one of yer games. Figured I'd see what was so special about some old book."

"Oh." Coherent replies escaped me. The book was one of the few things I'd been grateful to my father for. He hadn't exactly 'given' it to me. After one of our shouting matches, which had as usual followed with him beating the stuffing out of me, I'd squirreled it away, knowing it was one of his prized possessions. I'd been fifteen. Another beating had followed when he discovered it missing, but I hadn't told. He'd never found it, and when I'd left less than two years later, the book came with me. I eventually read it, and the philosophy of the ancient, pre-tech general had resonated in a way I'd never expected it to.

"'Sides," Dane said, turning and lumbering towards the link out of my pad. "Yer still one of the best hats I know, kid. And that's sayin' somethin'. Don't stress."

His av flickered and winked out of view. I was tempted to comm him, ask him who he was and what he'd done with Dane, but I didn't. Biting my lower lip, I instead walked over to my main inventory display, and began aimlessly scrolling through gear, not really seeing the holographic objects whisking by. We still had twelve hours to kill before we would head to the SZ to lie in wait for Two-Tone. Dane was right. I was as prepared as possible, and with the singularity as our hidden insurance, the ass of a panda wouldn't know what hit him.

The trembling in my limbs ceased.

***

After prepping all the gear we would be taking with us to the showdown, I frittered away the hours in a couple of my favourite gaming nodes. Dane had insisted on going alone to the service zone ahead of time to scout it out, refusing to listen to my arguments that we should go together. He messaged me three hours past the day's half mark, saying that he'd set up my ghost entry link without incident, and that the SZ had swept clean of detectable traps. We both jacked out shortly after and ate together, before taking a nap. Even with a decent sleep the night before, more rest wouldn't hurt.

Finally, the time came, Dane shaking me awake an irritating two minutes before my comm alarm went off, and we jacked back in to head for our meeting with the mystery panda.

Like all service zones, 18-4 was only accessible either by directly jacking into its host server, or via a hidden link within the nexus it monitored. The nexus took the form of a fairly large, grass covered plaza. ringed by a variety of commerce nodes; an av clothing and accessories store; a dealer for Synctec products; a wide range of places advertising mods and gear, from sensory enhancers to personal net vehicles to kink mods; and an office for the Bureau of Intimacy (amusingly located next to the place offering kink mods). Even now, it held a fair amount of traffic, all manner of mundane and bizarre avs wandering from node to node, or jumping in or out from the lander to other nexuses.

"Any sign of the fragger?" Dane asked, his eyes narrow as he scanned the area.

I pulled up the cowl of my robe and activated one of my 'sneak and seek' protocols. Several transparent orbs flew out of my sleeve and up several meters into the air, then shot off in all directions, the regular pings of their hive transponder sounding in my left ear like a tiny heartbeat. They were invisible unless someone was either looking for them specifically, or extremely observant.

"Nope. No pandas, cyborg or otherwise," I said after a moment, the pleasant chirp of the seekers indicating the whole area had scanned negative. "Assuming he hasn't reskinned or switched avs, we're good."

"Don't think he's the type."

"Me neither."

Dane gestured for me to follow, and lead the way to the facade of the Synctec node, which took the form of a medium-sized brick building, dominated by massive diamond panelled windows. Trust Synctec to put the glitz into glitzy. Dane stopped at the corner of the 'building', glanced around to make sure nobody was watching (they weren't, I'd already checked), and ran his gloved hand along the edge of the brick corner. A vertical blue slash appeared where he touched, like a zipper flap opening. The ghost link I'd made; placed on top and tied into the actual hidden entrance to the service zone.

"It would be attached to the Synctec node," I muttered.

Dane glanced at me, shrugged, and pinched the edges of the glowing blue line, pulling them open into a makeshift portal. Even though they owned a relatively small fraction of net-space, Synctec's control over hardware manufacturing in Jericho awarded them certain privileges their competitors would kill for. Such as the access rights to all SZ's in which they had an attached node.

We ducked through the glowing opening, dropping into the node--literally falling several feet to land with a clang on a wide metal platform. I winced at the noise, and looked around to make sure we were alone. The surrounding gridwork of metal grating walkways and platforms appeared empty, and was hemmed in by a multitude of attached interface stations and control boards, all of which glowed and hummed, were adorned with large, sequential numbers, and sprouted thick cables that spiralled up into the darkness above. Like most 'indoor' net spaces, it was lit by ambient light with no apparent source, though it was dimmer than most, lending the impression of an old industrial warehouse or factory.

"Could've warned me," I said, elbowing Dane.

He chuckled. "Not my fault you programmed it without proper entry height sync."

"Fine. You win, this time."

I looked up, confirmed that the ghost link had indeed snapped closed behind us, and would once more be invisible to the casual observer. Then, I raised my arms, and sent a fresh wave of seekers zipping out through the SZ. The flew away, their pings sounding in my ear until they came back with the 'all clear'.

"Right," I said, "Where are we going to wait?"

"Found a decent spot up ahead." Dane walked over to one of the three narrow walkways extending from the platform we stood on, and began to cross, his boots sounding brash clangs with each step.

"Could you be a little louder, please? I don't think they heard you in New Absalom."

"Place is empty, ain't it?"

"Yeah, but..." I sighed and hurried after him, my own footfalls clattering, and tried to ignore the crawling itch beneath my fur. I always felt it in service zones. Almost like being naked, with invisible eyes watching. Without the extra layers of av-to-user feedback safeguards present in standard net space, we were more exposed here than normal.

But, so was Two-Tone.

I followed Dane to another, larger metal platform, this one with only two walkways branching from it, including the one we'd come from. Two exceptionally large control panels dominated the platform, with a giant 'SZ 18-4: U12' marked on the sides of each. I glanced over them and paused; these were the controls for the Synctec node. A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth, and I strolled over to the nearest one, eyeing the readouts. Such a convenient opportunity shouldn't go to waste, should it? My fingers brushed over the interface, the screen brightening in response...

"Don't even think about it," Dane growled, stepping up and looming, arms folded.

"What?" I pouted, giving him my best pleading look. "It'll only take a minute to doctor a couple of shipping requests. We could have brand new visors! And some quality cooling units, and-"

"No." Dane's tone was as steely as the platforms beneath our feet. He hovered over me until I stepped away with a dramatic sigh.

"Dunno why you're so uptight about it all the time. It's not like they'll miss it."

He shambled between the two control panels and sat, cross-legged with his back against the metal railing. His fingers twitched, and his compact av-lockdown rifle appeared in his grip, laid across his knees. "It ain't for a job, and could draw attention to us before we're ready."

"Give me more credit than that."

"Fine, but it still ain't what we're here for."

He abruptly activated his camo protocol, leaving me glaring at empty air. I rolled my eyes and stalked away, pulling one of the items from my inventory and walking in a circle around the platform, scattering tiny metal beads. They were miniature fire bombs, which I could activate to ignite any nearby avs that weren't excluded by the control protocol, distracting shielded avs and taking out any that didn't wear protection.

Walking over to join Dane, I plopped down and activated my own camo. If he was going to be like that, then maybe I'd 'accidentally' elbow him in the invisible ribs a couple times. Any chance to poke at Synctec was a chance worth taking in my opinion, but he _insisted_we could only hack them when someone else--non corp of course--paid us to. I'd never worked out if he knew I favored jobs of that nature or not, but at least he usually never complained about taking them on. After all, corp was corp, and irritating one a little more than others wasn't that much of an extra risk, right?

Time began to slide by as we waited, mostly in silence. I spent the first half hour checking over my bread-crumb code, which tied between the ghost link and my av, and would alert me of any activity at or near the link. Just in case Two-Tone managed to avoid detection from my sneak-and-seek. The crawling sensation didn't fade, continuing to niggle at my patience. The temperature feedback from the node was a comfortable neutral of course, yet I felt like I should be sweating. I checked and re-checked my knives; the shielding system worked into my robes; the singularity key, and my small arsenal of tiny, but av-lethal projectiles, secondary offensive gear, and trap protocols.

What if Two-Tone was already here? I had no idea how talented he was with the more delicate hacks, and he could have a way to avoid my sweeps. Or, maybe he wouldn't show at all, and we would instead have a horde of security descending on us with av-lockdown gear of their own, ready to trap us and trace our live-side location. Worse; what if Two-Tone came with security at his back? Or other cogs, in the employ of whatever corp source was giving us this grief? Scrub it, he could come at us with an army, and we wouldn't have much warning. Service zones were by necessity completely isolated from the main net, and we couldn't log directly out into the safety of our own machines without a hard disconnect.

My jaw clenched, and I found myself scooting a bit closer to Dane, until I could feel the false warmth radiating from his av against the back of my hand. I'd never asked why he chose to maintain the body-heat setting--it was a purely cosmetic effect, and could be detectable--but I was grateful for it now. He grunted, but didn't comment. He knew all of those possibilities as well as I did, and he'd still agreed to this crazy confrontation.

At 24 exactly, the bread-crumb trail set off a rattling buzz in my index finger.

"Someone's-" I began in a hushed whisper through comms, but cut off as, in the distance, a loud clang echoed through the node. Immediately, my sneak-and-seeks trilled an alarm, confirming what the churning sensation in my gut had already told me.

"It's him."

More heavy clangs reverberated over the hum of the nearby control units, gradually growing louder. I felt Dane shift, which meant he'd likely nodded, and then a faint scuffling indicated he'd switched to a combat kneel, likely with his rifle aimed at the source of the noise.

"Not too late to change plans," Dane muttered. "We can scrub 'im and call it a day."

"No," I hissed back. "We do it like we discussed. I need to find out who he's working for if I can."

"Fine. But the moment he twitches funny, we scrub 'im."

Two-Tone appeared, striding along the catwalk towards our platform like he owned it. His appearance hadn't been modded since I'd last seen him. Same cybernetics. Same one-piece, silvery garment. He stopped as he stepped onto the platform, his head swivelling from side to side. The red electronic eye pierced me once, twice. I couldn't prevent a small shudder from travelling up my spine.

"Sid," Two-Tone called, "I know you're there. Invisibility won't work if I actually try to find you. Don't bother making me do that."

There it was again; the arrogant bluster that set my teeth on edge. But, chances were he wasn't lying. Swallowing any final misgivings, I deactivated my cloaking protocol and stepped forward.

Two-Tone turned as I flickered into the visible spectrum of the node, and nodded, his expression remaining neutral.

"Good," he said. "I hate doing finicky work I don't have to. Where's your bodyguard, Sid? Don't tell me he's hiding while you're out in the open. Do I have to find him and give him a repeat of his last lesson?"

"I did what you asked, Two-Tone," I growled, studiously not looking towards Dane. "I'm here. How about cutting the special effects and telling me what you want?"

"Shouldn't that be obvious? I'm here to talk, sort out our differences." Two-Tone spread his arms wide, a sardonic grin on his muzzle. "Isn't that what civilized hats do?"

"Then talk." I tucked my hands into my sleeves, hiding any finger motions.

"Kid," Dane said through our comms, "I've got a clean shot."

"Not yet!" I thought back.

"What do you think?" Two-Tone said. "Can I scrub you without a fight? Or are you going to resist?"

"What did I do to you? Why are you after me?"

Two-Tone shrugged. "Y'know. You're just... you. It's reason enough for me, and it's reason enough for my employer. You've been a naughty boy, according to them, and they're willing to pay big to shut you down permanently." The words were calm, but a tightness crept into the panda's jaw, and his natural eye twitched.

This was more than a typical bounty grab. He hated me, maybe as much as I hated my father. Why? I'd pissed off a lot of people in my endeavours, but none had ever taken it quite so personal, not even Sting. It was the nature of the game. Other hats knew it, cogs knew it. Hell, even corpies knew it.

"Is that your plan then? Beat me into submission? Scrub me?" I casually shifted my body sideways, hiding the faint motion of calling the singularity key into my covered right hand. "Going to backtrace me and send the location to your corpie friends while I'm out?"

"No need."

I froze, the tiny shrill of hack alarms prickling in my mind. My defensive algorithms sprang into immediate counter action, fending off hundreds of invisible, snake-like probes, which plucked and tugged at the tangle of code forming my av mask.

"Kid!" Dane hissed through our comms, "He's-"

Panic threatened to override instinct. No damn way he could be doing this! Yelling a command phrase, I kicked my 'emergency bunker' protocol into action, shutting my av off from any external interactions, which included Dane's transmission. I hoped he had remembered to do the same, if Two-Tone had managed to simultaneously attack both of our masks.

"Quick reaction," Two-Tone said, the casual tone of his voice betraying the impossibility of what he'd done. "I guess you do deserve your reputation. Somewhat."

I glared at him, refusing to be intimidated. "Nice trick. Sucks that you didn't even get past the first layer. There's some nice backlash traps in the second."

"I'll bet. I look forward to them." He took a step forward, red cyborg eye blinking rhythmically. "What have you got, a brain bomb? A gotcha net?"

"Tell me who you're working for and maybe I'll give you a hint." How had he done it? Physicality on the net was an illusion, if a convincing one. Everything was data, avs included. Simple chunks bonded together like molecules to form more complex structures. Hacking was no more than manipulation of data in a way its creator or controller didn't expect. But, to hack something, you still needed an interface. To hack an av, you needed to interact with it, or disable its controller long enough that they couldn't prevent the hack. Two-Tone hadn't done either.

A muffled whump! A sharp hiss of air. Two-Tone's form blurred, contorting impossibly.

"Ah, that's where he's hiding," the panda said with perfect poise. He took a step away from the trail of smoke left by Dane's shot, which passed through the space Two-Tone's head had been. "Try again."

Outside the protection of my bunker protocol, I could feel the unseen snakes poking and prodding, searching for a way in. I left them alone. Bunker mode was impregnable from inside the net. My fingers twitched over the singularity key. He'd have to take my av down to work past it, and as soon as he got close...

Two more muffled whumps. Dane's weapon fired large high-power slugs which processed through net-space at apparent supersonic speed. Two-Tone barely seemed to notice, his av flickering through the shots like it was skipping animation frames. Fire bombs detonated, bathing Two-tone and the platform in flame. He ignored them, moving impossibly fast, and closing in on me, that leering grin and blinking eye lending the impression of a pre-tech lab experiment gone horribly wrong.

"You don't seem to get it. You can't hit me, you can't beat me. I'm not just a hat. I am the net. Here, I'm god, and I'm tired of you existing."

Flicker. Ten paces away. Flicker. Five.

I couldn't move, transfixed by that blinking eye.

Alarms shrilled in my head. A snake slithered through my bunker layer, triggering my secondary defenses.

Oh frag...

I swatted at the lashing probe, and the three others that followed, keeping them from the structure of my mask. Dane yelled, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him phase into view, rolling forward and clutching at his helmet.

Flicker.

I triggered the key.

Roaring filled my ears. A blinding supernova exploded in front of me, swallowing the tiny light of Two-Tone's eye, the metal railings of the platform, the control stations. I flinched, throwing up a sleeve to shield my vision, half expecting to get sucked into the terrible maelstrom of heat and fury I'd unleashed. I might have yelled, but the noise was too great for me to hear my own voice.

The wave of heat blew past me in a rush, the ball of light and debris condensing to a pinprick, then vanishing altogether, taking Two-Tone and everything else on the platform that wasn't part of the node's integral coding with it. The space which had held the control module was no more than empty catwalk with a few shards of glowing metal.

"Well frag me," Dane said from behind me. "That little bastard made it work."

My ears were still ringing from the blast as I turned to face him, and I blinked to clear the starbursts out of my eyes. My stomach felt like a ball of ice. "Dane, you felt it, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

He didn't need to ask what I meant. He knew the impossibility of what Two-Tone had attempted as well as I did. If not for Sting's device, he could've unmasked us both, giving him all the data he needed to locate our live-side bodies, and with an open connection at his disposal, he could send all kinds of nasty feedback or corruption data to our visors, effectively leaving us helpless.

Scrub the stupid shaking in my limbs. We'd won. That was the only thing that mattered. Sure, there was still whoever Two-Tone had been working for to deal with, but we could tackle that problem later. The killer panda was gone.

"Kid," Dane said, getting to his feet, "Let's get the frag out of here."

I nodded, the ball of ice beginning to melt. Maybe I'd play some games to unwind. Or maybe-

A muted pop from behind me. Ragged breathing. I spun.

Two-Tone's upper torso dragged itself towards me on smoking limbs, the fur of his natural half singed and smoldering. That red eye, now with its casing peeled away, blinked crazily.

"I am...the net!" the panda wheezed, his hand reaching out for me. The skin of his face fractured, light pouring out from beneath.

My world dissolved into fire.