Undercover Ops: Ch. 01

Undercover Ops: Ch. 01

By Deathlynx

Only a few blocks more!

Cassidy was amazed by her body. She was sore. She, the woman who jumped through a third story window to catch a flagpole, while hurtling toward the ground, and use it to launch herself through the closed window across the street and two floors up, was sore from a little 'action' of another sort. She needed to remember to find a workout regime that would prepare her hips for a recurrence of last night.

The 'glow' of the morning after faded within blocks of her apartment. Now she was grumbled and thought some very unkind things about the man. She still held no designs against him for stealing the disk. Business was business, and as long as her opposition didn't turn it personal, she was content to let past assignments, and all of the associated baggage, remain in the past. The corps all knew she felt that way and respected it. Most IOs also agreed. Those few who had tried to turn it personal generally ended up dead.

One or two corporations attempted to pay her to avoid contracts against them, but she refused on the grounds that she would remain completely unbiased in corporate politics. They didn't like the answer but respected it. After all it made financial sense to ignore her when she wasn't immediately targeting them. The alternative would have been to spend far more than any three of her contracts were worth in either IO teams or military security personnel in a simple attempt to trap her.

One corp had tried that. After the dust had settled over three dozen people were dead. The ambush had been expertly planned and executed, however they failed to take into account her regional knowledge. She was a girl of the streets and the corporate officer stood out in his supposed urban camouflage. He'd been from the suburbs and his mannerisms keyed her to the trap. In the end she was forced to break into the corporation and pay a surprise visit to the branch's managing VP. It turned out that the entire affair was the result of a mid-level junior VP, disgruntled by a poor performance review, as a result of a mission. The managing VP assured her the situation would be dealt with, and matters would be explained to the executive. She assumed it had fallen out as planned since she never heard from either of them again.

She finally reached the warehouse. Where the armored vehicle rested the night before now stood a metal container. She nodded, marking it the right size and shape for her new bike. On the front, next to an automated iris door, was a control panel. She placed her thumb on the scanner and punched the code into the pad. It was relatively low security for her but more than enough to prevent the bike from being stolen. As the door slid open, the display confirmed a rather sizeable deposit had been made to her account. Her market agent was the best, quickly unloading even the most unusual equipment for top value. He took a rather large percentage but the end result was usually still higher than most other agents she had dealt with in the past and he was almost always able to unload merchandise the same night he acquired it. She didn't ask how. She didn't need to know, it wasn't her business, and he probably wouldn't have told her if she asked.

She smiled as she looked inside. Comfortably nestled within was the Lynx, a high end racing bike complete with all of the latest features; gyro-stabilization, turbo-charged engine, improved handling and even the quick-boost package. She would need to install the skid bars, weapon mounts and theft deterrent herself but that would be easy, if time consuming. She keyed in the sequence her agent provided, her personal security code, and then re-keyed her code. The engine roared to life. It was now truly hers.

With the threat of dome cities, the price of personal transportation had dropped drastically. Almost simultaneously, all of the megacorps began to build entirely self-contained cities. These behemoths included an extensive network of personnel tubes and lifts, soon to make cars and bikes obsolete almost overnight in many locations.

Cassidy smiled thinking of that turn of events. The city sized buildings had been prohibitive due to structural concerns. Finally, a smaller company discovered a solution to the problem. Engineers confirmed the feasibility of the project hours after she had already been hired by a megacorp to steal the plans and destroy the original data. They had been willing to risk her fees on the mere possibility that the theory was viable.

A simple job really. As she raced away, the building in flames behind her, she spotted another IO team inbound. They saw her, waved a frustrated greeting before turning around to contact their employers about the delay. The next day it became clear who hired her when they announced plans to build the first of the monstrosities. Within a day three more corps made similar claims when their Ops teams finally learned of Cassidy's employer and stole the plans from it rather than confront her.

The bike leapt from the container. It would be gone within hours, picked up by one of the agent's people. She never met the man face to face. She wasn't entirely sure it was a man. Contact only came in the form of these drop-offs or the occasional voice-only call. She found him through the usual channels in the slums, knowing only his name and asking after him. He contacted her through more secure channels and their business arrangement had begun.

She considered her appointment as she raced the narrow streets. She still had over an hour before the corporate lackey showed. She didn't relish the thought of sitting by her drop for that long. If security had been compromised it was the best place to ambush her. With gas prices high she couldn't ride around the entire time. The only option left was to find something to do. She remembered a reliable chop-shop a short distance from the meet and adjusted her course appropriately. She typically made any hardware modifications herself but she had the money to splurge occasionally.

Or every day for the rest of my natural life to be honest.

Periodically, the realization struck her. While she maintained nowhere near the finances of the megacorps, her various accounts held more than anyone in the world except top tier execs. Not for the first time, she wondered why she continued. As before, she didn't have an answer except that she knew no other life. She wouldn't be comfortable lounging on a beach somewhere. The paranoia was inbred and inescapable. Once she grew soft, how many people with long memories of supposedly forgiven grudges would track her down?

She pulled into the large garage. In the more expensive part of town, even the illegal operations worried about their appearance. The legitimate businesses didn't care, so long as property value didn't decline and customers and employees alike felt safe to walk the streets. Those that dealt in vice didn't fear the megacorps, since they were too small, too local, to impact sales figures. So long as the local businesses were content, the supposed authorities were hamstrung. Suburban street racing was perhaps the single largest vice among the corporate climbers so Max's Custom Cuts was a recognized chop-shop.

Cassidy parked the Lynx in an empty bay and scanned the room for Max. There. She stood behind a tricked out off-roader. Max discussed the modifications with some clients. The six foot tall, red-headed, woman wore a pink dress of eastern design. It was cut very high to emphasize her long legs, but without the plunging neckline Cas would have expected from the large breasted woman. She was playing conservative today, obviously.

As Cassidy made her way across the busy garage, waving off the attendants, she reflected on what she knew of the woman. Early in life she sold her body in one of the more questionable brothels in town. Unlike a majority of the 'employees' she thrived, and set aside most of her meager earnings where the others wasted theirs on any substance that allowed them to forget the nature of their profession and the abuses of the owners. When she felt she had a comfortable savings, she left to open the garage. At first it had been just her, in her coveralls, servicing cars and bikes as easily as she had once serviced patrons.

She was a natural with anything mechanical or electronic. Quickly she expanded her business. She realized the profit to be made from customization, and the relative legal impunity, so long as she kept the appearance and clientele respectable. Now that she moved uptown, she maintained over a dozen bays in the shop and enough employees to keep them all busy. And they all were.

As Cassidy neared the other woman, Max looked up, sensing her approach. Her smile grew wide and she waved frantically. The two weren't exactly friends, it was difficult to maintain true friends in Cas's line of work, but they were always on very good terms. "Cassidy! What brings you to this neck of the woods?"

Cassidy smiled back. "I have a meeting in an hour."

"So you figured you'd stop by and kill time with your old friend Max?" Max rounded the vehicle to enfold the smaller woman in a hug.

"Something like that. I have a new bike and I thought your people could set it up for me while I take care of business. I'll pay extra for the rush."

Max held her by the shoulders, at arm's length, and inspected her before she waved the thought away. Both women knew accounts would be properly settled but Max seldom worried about that aspect of the business anymore. She had people to take care of everything. All she was there for these days was as the owner and figurehead.

"We can fit you in easily. What do you need done to it?" Her eyes darted briefly to the bike. "Aside from a paint job to get rid of that depressing color scheme of yours?"

"Black looks good on me!"

"So does makeup but I never see you wearing that!" From almost anyone else that would have sounded condescending. From Max it simply sounded like the scolding of an exasperated older sister.

"The black works for intimidation. It stays." She tried to glare at the taller woman, but it quickly broke into a smile. "I need skid bars and weapon mounts; two forward, one aft."

Max's gaze turned solemn. "You threw your last one didn't you?" Cassidy's eyes widened. "Oh don't look so surprised! First of all, you've never had skid bars before. Second there was a riot transport in last night with scoring that looked like it had been hit by a bike. The natural conclusion? You had to dive off your bike to avoid imitating it."

Cassidy was slightly concerned that Max knew how she maintained her bikes these days when it had been at least a year since she brought one here. Either her exploits were even more famous then she knew or Max was keeping a very close eye on her. That she could, with enough accuracy to know she never used skid bars before, meant Cassidy's life was becoming too easy to follow. Max with such knowledge was no threat, but others weren't so benevolent.

"That's about the size of it. I've got an hour or so before the meeting. Add on another half hour for travel. That enough time for the mods?"

"Even if I have to do them myself!" Cassidy noticed that the two clients Max had been with laughed. Apparently they didn't know the history of the businesswoman. Max simply rolled her eyes at them, her back safely turned. "Come, I'll show you the improvements I've made in the private lounge."

She followed Max towards the back of the shop as mechanics began to swarm over her bike. No one had been told officially what needed to be done to it, but enough employees had been nearby to hear the request. If Max was confident with the results, then Cassidy was equally comfortable.

The private lounge had been Max's answer to the ever present problem of class discrimination. While the executives and big spenders expected a VIP lounge, most of Max's oldest and closest friends came from the working populace or, worse, the darker element of the streets, like Cas herself. As a discreet attack on classism the private lounge, meant only for those friends, was actually considerably more lavish than the VIP suite.

The last time she had been there, the theme had been of a harem; brightly colored silk and gauze draped everywhere and the floor covered with hundreds of soft velvet pillows. The theme shifted in the past year. Now the entire room was one large bathhouse. A single large hot tub took up most of the floor. Along two walls, there was only enough room to walk comfortably around the edge of the water. Along the other two sides, couches and recliners were arrayed. Cassidy had been to bars and clubs that would charge top dollar to relax in such an atmosphere. She whistled in appreciation.

"Have you ever thought of throwing parties here?"

"You haven't gotten the invitations I sent you?" It was delivered so honestly that Cassidy spun in surprise. The twinkle in Max's eyes gave her away before the grin spread across her face. "Actually I have toyed with the idea. I simply haven't come up with a valid occasion to sponsor one for. The people I like to invite back here either work any, and all, hours day and night or rarely have a day off to recover from my idea of true festivities."

Cas nodded in understanding. Once, so the history books claimed, there had been strict labor laws that protected the workers from toiling every day of their adult lives. She shuddered, thinking once again how the definition of adult seemed to grow younger every year. The parents never complained because wages dropped, which required even the youngest family members to work for a family to survive. There were still worker's rights activists, but they were as laughably ineffective as the governments they attempted to persuade. When one of those groups managed to foment a revolt somewhere in the world, one of the megacorps sent in their army to 'pacify the regrettably unreasonable malcontents'. Everyone knew who was unreasonable, but the armies prevented any real change.

"Come!" Max startled Cassidy out of her reverie. "You said an hour? If I know you that means you have about half an hour before you need to head out and confirm the security of the area before the meet." Cassidy simply nodded, no longer surprised the remarkable woman knew her M. O. Max gently tapped a comfortable looking padded bench. "Lie down over here. This lounge comes with a masseuse, and you look like you were riding that body of yours hard last night!"

If you only knew. Someone certainly was! Cassidy smiled as she thought of the previous night.

"I certainly will take you up on that. I could use some tension relief before the meet."

Taking a cue from the taller woman, she stepped behind a folding screen to change into a comfortable cotton robe. Burgundy wasn't her usual color, but she caught a glimpse of herself in the full length mirror and admitted it suited her auburn hair and green eyes. As she moved to the bench it occurred to her that Merritt's car was likely customized.

"You wouldn't happen to have a client named Merritt? About your height, blue eyes, brown hair down to his mid back, slightly heavyset? He drives a Stinger."

One well maintained eyebrow raised. "Business or personal?" Cassidy couldn't meet her stern gaze. Max was well known for her discretion. She would not reveal her clients to anyone who could have a business interests in their activities. The other eyebrow joined the first in surprise.

"Why Cassidy! It's personal isn't it? And given that you're as well known for not holding grudges as I am for not dropping names, I'd have to say he wouldn't be displeased that you are asking after him." Cassidy was blushing as Max glided over to stroke a soft palm down her cheek. "And here I always hoped I had a chance. Ah well. No, dear, I don't know him." Seeing the disappointment in the woman's eyes Max hurried on. "And no that isn't my professional answer. I can look into it if you like? You're sure his Stinger is customed?"

The door opened and a large man entered, working massage oil onto his hands. Cassidy shrugged, lying down for the young man's touch.

"I'd imagine so. I'm pretty sure he's a fellow Op. And I don't know a single one of us without a custom vehicle." Max nodded knowingly. "Oh, and if you'd be so good as to add this luxury to my tab. I've been told I need to learn to start treating myself more often."

Max laughed. "That you do dear. However, not this time. This is a complimentary service of the private lounge. Enjoy, and I'll make sure that someone notifies you in a half an hour."

"Thank you. And since you won't let me pay you let me give you a tip." The masseuse grimaced as she perched herself on her elbows and her entire back tensed. Max simply looked back in amused interest. "I have it on good authority that most of the megas are going to declare a day off in honor of the opening of the dome cities. It's so everyone can watch the broadcasts and they can entice large numbers to move in, of course, but it means the night before would be a good chance for your party."

A wicked grin spread across Max's face. "Good to know. Thank you." She turned to leave, stopping at the door to speak over her shoulder. "And I always suspected that little piece of work was your doing." The delightful music of her laughter followed her from the room.

* * * *

Last night she'd had the workout of her life and now, after only a half an hour under Sven's wondrous hands, she had never felt more relaxed. She stood a block away from the meet on the third floor of a building with a great view of the entire area. Still, relaxed didn't mean sloppy, so she heard the heavy footsteps long before they came close enough to threaten her. She leaned against the wall, back to him, looking out the window with her arms crossed in front of her chest. One of her pistols rested lightly in her right hand, hidden by her posture. As she watched the plaza, the reflection in the glass allowed her to gauge the distance to the intruder.

He thought he was being quiet. She could tell in the limited view of his posture. A moment before he inhaled to speak she beat him to it. "You're really not good at sneaking around." Surprise shifted his posture. As she suspected there was a gun in his hand. His arm tensed. "Don't even think of raising that. That's an escalation you don't want."

He did anyway. "You're not going to deliver the data."

She sighed and shrugged. Her hand slowly extended away from her body, holding the gun by the barrel. Once comfortably away from her she let the piece drop unceremoniously to the floor. Hands carefully, and unthreateningly, spread in front of her she turned to face the man. "Look, I don't even know what I have." A lie, but he need not know that. "It's a job, nothing more. But I will deliver these on time. Like I said it's my job, and I'm good at it."

A single quick glance told her everything she needed to know. He wasn't security. He wasn't even and Op. He was nothing more then hired muscle, probably a gang member enticed by thoughts of a couple hundred. The 'big bucks'.

"You'll hand over every copy of the data, we'll stay here for a few hours, then I'll let you go free, after you've failed to show for your drop."

"Very good. How long did it take you to memorize those lines?"

She didn't have to be quite as sarcastic, but what he represented annoyed her. Someone thought so little of her skills that they thought a muscled thug would distract or delay her. This man could do neither.

He growled at her, apparently understanding he was the butt of her joke if not the meaning. She patted the air soothingly before slowly reaching in to pull a disk from inside her jacket pocket.

"That everything?" She nodded. "Bring it over here nice and slow."

Her eyes dropped to hide the contempt as she closed the distance. She already saw the lewd looks he'd been giving her. He thought he would get a chance to use her while they waited out the conditioned time. Pathetic! Even without knowing who she was, he should have known better than to let any Independent Op. within close range. He might be strong but he wasn't nearly skilled enough for that.

A hand lashed out to grab her wrist painfully, causing her to drop the disk. The problem with these fully synthetic mechanical limbs was that they felt pain. The designers had yet to figure out how to keep tactile sensory information while eliminating the pain results. Or perhaps they chose not to for some reason. Either way it was very inconvenient to feel pain when there wasn't even enough pressure to overpower one of her fingers.

The lump of flesh was towering over her and staring openly at her breasts. A flick of her hand broke his grip. His eyes grew wide as her wrist instantly traced the back of his hand before her thumb slung underneath. All at once she had his thick wrist held fast by her thumb and forefinger. The slightest applied pressure, from her enhanced muscles, and he crashed to his knees. His eyes watered as he tried to form words, begging for mercy.

His other hand, reaching to grope at her before she acted, instinctively grasped her body for support. The end result, as he tried to push himself free of her, was to grab one of her breasts and squeeze. On his knees and pleading, he didn't notice until her own eyes dropped to glare at the hand that still covered her chest. He stammered an apology and tried to remove it, only to be caught in a similar two fingered vice grip. She stepped back, cautious of a head-butt, and spread his arms wide. His head flung from side to side seeking any means of escape.

She reminded herself this was simply business, despite his obvious intentions. She stood there and glared at him. He shut up. Pressure spiked and both of his wrists shattered, ground near to powder in her grip. He screamed wordlessly in pain. The fight could be considered over, but she needed to be thorough. There was a message to be sent to these gangers. That he didn't know who she was meant she could send it for all women Ops. Her hands released him but before his arms could drop more than a few inches she had his elbows and repeated the process.

The giant's screams grew to panic as her hands moved to cup his shoulders. A slight flex and bones splintered. She could have done worse but regarded the possibilities of spurs to be an enticing development. He collapsed backwards. Feet failed to find purchase as he attempted to backpedal, still seated, away from her. A hand reached out to grab an ankle and his eyes widened in horror. She pulled his leg straight. A quick two fingered thrust with her other hand caused his kneecap to explode. His screams redoubled.

Slowly she turned. Every curve of her body now spoke of nothing but negligent contempt for him. She reached the empty decoy disk on the floor and crushed it under a heel before she turned towards the door. As she passed by the window, she casually leaned down and scooped up her discarded pistol without breaking her stride. He intended to rape her. She felt it fitting that, now, only the pity of a woman would ever bring him to orgasm again. Let the punishment fit the crime. His screams followed her down the three flights of stairs and left her only as she walked out into the plaza.

Again she wondered why anyone would send such incompetence after her. Even if they didn't know who she was, specifically, they should have known the futility of the ploy. Gunfire, a distance away, sprang to life; not an uncommon occurrence. She reached the meet, leaned against a light post, watched the crowds for any threat as she pondered the possible reasons and waited for the executive. No one, except possibly the ganger himself, could have expected success from the ploy. In the end he hadn't delayed her more than a minute with his pathetic antics.

A car whipped around the corner a few blocks away. She looked up in curiosity. A high-end sports car raced towards her. Shortly behind it chased a van with homemade armor modifications. Leaning from the van were two men with obvious cyber-modifications, both holding high powered pistols and shooting at the white sports car. Instinct, and nothing more, told her the occupant of the beleaguered car.

Without thought her pistols appeared in her outstretched hands. She alternated sighting down each, and aimed at the men leaning from the van. Both weapons barked. Given the range, speed of drawing and firing, and the multiple targets and weapons, even she was surprised as the bullets ricocheted of the armor plating inches from her intended targets. As one they looked beyond their intended victim to spot the assailant, two blocks away sighting them once more. The first shots produced the intended results, and allowed Cassidy to judge the comparative reaction times of the two. The one on her left had responded to the new development a few seconds faster than his companion. She adjusted her aim the moment he reacted. By the time he spotted her she had him locked.

A single bark echoed forth. The man's hand began to adjust to the new threat when suddenly the mechanics of his wrist exploded in a tangle of wire and metallic corded muscle. The van began to veer wildly as the driver finally realized the presence of an additional opponent. The swerving van, left and right, made it impossible for Cassidy to positively target the other shooter. The remaining shooter made several attempts to hit her but finally gave up due to the driver's evasions. Much closer, and a significantly larger target, the sports car once more became the target of choice.

Cassidy wished desperately for her bike. Her arms dropped to her sides and pumped in time to her legs as she ran towards the immanent disaster. The team's amateurish plot angered her, fueled her flight towards the speeding vehicles. If they were so desperate to disable or destroy the car they should have simply run it off the road. She stopped running, stopped moving, watching the chase closely. The sports car should have been more then capable of outdistancing it from the hulking van even on these claustrophobic streets. She couldn't imagine an exec who owned a car like that without having taken it out racing at least a few times.

So why is it only creeping away from the pursuers?

A shot rang against the building next to her. Focus shifted and she noticed the van once more traveled straight forward, the shooter used the opportunity to sight her. He flinched behind the armored interior as both guns came up once more, this time at differing heights. Twin barks roared forth. All at once the street seemed to erupt into chaos as her shots lunged true.

The heavier caliber round hit the armored windshield of the van with enough force to cause a spider web of cracks to form. Predictably, the driver instinctively spun the wheel away from the immediacy of the threat, and failed to retain enough control to compensate for the extreme speeds. The second bullet shredded the rubber tire of the car. The executive, lacked the skills of his pursuer and lost control of the car within seconds. She watched in pride as the well choreographed vehicles jerked in opposite directions before momentum simultaneously overcame both and sent them into uncontrolled rolls as they careened down the street.

Cassidy had always excelled in math and physics. Latent talent was built upon through many years of practice in shooting. Calmly she strode forward in anticipation. Finally she stopped and waited, her arms crossed, clutched pistols rested on her biceps. The vehicles collided and rebounded, all the while they rolled inevitably towards her. Their momentum began to wane until they came to rest, the car on its back and the van on its side, inches from her.

She strode to the rear of the van. She crouched to the side and pulled open one of the double doors. Prepared for a brief, but furious, firefight, she didn't expect to be dodging the weapons themselves. The team surrendered, acknowledged themselves outclassed and likely prayed for the very mercy their pride refused to request. She closed the door in sign of acceptance. Relegating the van to peripheral attention, she moved back to the car.

Sure enough, her contact climbed free of the wreckage. He shook with rage while he stepped back to assess the mangled form that, moments ago, had been his prized possession.

"You're lucky it was just the car." Her calm, almost bored, tone sapped some of the anger from him, as he turned to assail whoever dared to interject into his mourning.

He paled as he recognized Cassidy, one gun by her side, the other leaning casually against the crook of her shoulder and neck.

"You tried to betray me. Hire them," nodding towards the silent van, "to eliminate me for far less than the sum you carry right now. You'd have the blueprints and a large portion of the money."

The pistol by her side slid neatly into its holster. Her empty hand came forward and out. The executive's shoulders slumped in defeat.

Cassidy caught the e-pad he tossed, with ease. A quick combination with her thumb displayed an open credit account with the agreed upon sum. She nodded. Traditionally, she would hand over merchandise without immediately confirming the payment, however he had already proven too devious. The second gun came level with his head. His eyes widened but he froze. She switched to rest in a double-handed grip. His panic flared as the hand on the trigger tensed.

Something glittered through the air. His terror fogged brain was slow to realize the metal object flying towards him was a data-chip rather then a bullet. At the last moment he scrambled to keep it from hitting the street. He resulted in a very undignified heap on the ground, data-chip secure from damage.

As she turned to leave, she considered placing a call to the district VP. A quick look over her shoulder disabused her of the thought. The exec lay, huddled protectively around the chip, in the grime and filth of the street. She noticed the crotch of his pants soaked through. He wasn't likely to attempt the scenario again anytime soon. She turned to leave.

"You're Cassidy aren't you?" She spun, leveling a dagger glare at the speaker. It was the man with the misfortune of being too quick. His arms spread out to the sides demonstrated not only his lack of weapon but the stump of metal that remained of his right hand. "He didn't tell us who you were. Just said you had backed out on a deal and he only needed the info you had."

"That why you sent the psychopathic ganger after me?"

Her anger transferred instantly from the rival leader to the exec, with the sight of the obvious and unfeigned confusion in her rival's eyes. He knew nothing about it which left only the weasel curled up on the ground.

He watched her glance shift and shook his head. "Wasn't the lackey either. He insisted he be part of the op, so we kept a close watch on him the whole time." She turned to walk off once more. "Look, I'm sorry about all of this."

"Hey, don't be sorry. I'm not the one who needs all of the repairs." She left him to ponder ways to avoid such surprises in the future. Better research and a less devious, not to mention complex, ambush both sprang to mind.

As she wandered the labyrinth of streets towards Max's shop she pondered two mysteries to be thrust on her in the last twenty four hours. While Merritt had been a very pleasant surprise, the ganger had been a very disturbing one.

Stumpy was telling the truth. The only reason, given the true method of the rival team, to have hired the ganger was as a red herring. A distraction to divert her mind and attention at the critical moment they came around the corner. He was never a threat, except to her self-control. No decent IO would consider him one and few, but the most sadistic, should have sent him against a woman. So who could have hired him to try to stop her and why?

Whoever hired him knew of her assignment. To the best of Cassidy's knowledge that severely limited the list of suspects. As usual she told no one. She acted as her own agent. There was obviously a leak on the megacorp's end of things, with Merritt and the thug both knowing. Again her thoughts wandered to a possible connection between the two. She couldn't rectify what she thought of Merritt with the tactic of using the thug. There had to be at least three parties at work here.

She shook her head. Her thoughts traveled in endless circles, to which she had no answers. Her feet stopped of their own accord. She looked around in wary confusion, trusting her instinct for trouble. There was nothing out of the ordinary. She looked up to discover the bright sign. Max's Custom Cuts. She didn't remember the walk.

Just inside the door a mousey man moved up to her. Nervous, he handed her an e-pad. The figure prominently displayed was high but about what Cassidy had expected for top quality in both goods and services. She scrolled down, noted the itemized section of the bill, to the bottom where she input an account number and authorization code. Instead of asterisks, to hide the code from casual observers as she punched in the number, Max had her pads customized to display hearts. Cassidy smiled and shook her head as she handed the pad to the accountant. The bill was considerably less than her wage for the operation. Even factoring in the price of the bike and ignoring the money made from sale of the equipment, she came out ahead. This one had been very profitable.

"The boss also wanted me to tell you 'thanks for the tip. You'll be getting the invitation soon.' To be honest I have no idea what it means but she said you would appreciate it."

"I do. And if I know Max you'll find out eventually what it means too. And possibly appreciate it even more than I do." She reached out to tap the e-pad in his hands. "I noticed you used Greymark detachable skid-bars."

The man became even more nervous. "It was her idea. She thought you might appreciate the ability to remove them in the event you wanted to make further modifications. She said you'd never used skid-bars before so you might not realize how much of a hassle it could be to customize a bike once they were installed."

An eyebrow raised. "They that difficult to work around?"

The man relaxed, obviously more in his element discussing hardware. Apparently he wasn't just an accountant. "Oh yeah. There are parts of the engine that you can barely reach if you need to repair it. With normal bars you have to take the whole thing out before you can make some repairs. While it's certainly not easy to remove the Greymarks, it's a hell of a lot easier then removing the whole engine first."

"You think there's someone on duty who can show me the trick to pulling them?"

The man nodded enthusiastically. "I can show you, easy." As he turned to lead her to her bike she watched him walk. He wasn't nearly as thin as she'd thought. Wiry. And once he'd gotten over the whole 'afraid she'll bite me in half' thing he was almost cute. She shook her head and laughed quietly.

One night of action and suddenly I'm ready for the world? She sighed, hoping to find Merritt again. But maybe this guy could prove skilled. She shook her head. It'd never work, not if he was that nervous.

Copyright 2006, By Deathlynx