It had been a long time since he was called in.  The man that resembled a lupine had gone his own way from the Merovingian; he instead had chosen to live his own life.  He had picked a lifestyle as a enterprising catalyst, making trouble and fixing that which did not benifit him.  Much like a druid he understoond the flow of life, and the need for destruction of it as well.

He snaked through the crowd, people seemed unaware of his presence as if he was a dream; but they made way for him, allowing relative ease of manuevering to the back of the club.  As per status quo, the club was lined from the mundane to the insane.  There were people you would mistake for bluepills, and of course the compleate opposite.  Those of the latter flaunted the secret they knew.  He often wondered why they tried so hard to stand apart from the crowd, stopping for a moment to watch one that had taken a liking to a rather innocent individual.  The archaic scene of courting ensued and Chainer quickly grew bored with it.  He had never been one for mass gatherings, and the fact he had been called here only hastened his desire to get this over with.

The back of the club was more heavily guarded.  Large men with obtuse pericings and acute articles of clothing lined the staircase.  Mirroring the large men in contrast were the multitudes of operatives waiting for their next job.  Pale blood drinkers edged closer to human operatives.  He noticed the particular joy the drinkers seemed to feel, reminding the humans that they could be a meal for their coded counter-parts.  Amoung the number of operatives were multitudes of familar faces that Chainer had befriended over years past.  Up the stairs past those who had been waiting for who knows how long, he approached the man he loathed with a passion...

Flood stood, looking at a stained glass window his cocky demeanor eminated from him; it was like a stench that burned Chainer's nose.  "I'm surprised you came, you parasitic bundle pack" Flood said as he turned around, "You have had a lot of nerve to sit back so far and ask so much."

Chainer's lips curled as Flood spoke.  He loathed Flood, just the sound of his voice was enough to make Chainer's throat vibrate and a growl eminate as he spoke. "If this is about me acting as a free agent for the Merovingian, then I'm going to turn around.  I ain't got the time, nor the patience for you're smart mouth..." He stood still, watching every move that Flood and his guards on the stairs made.

"Stuff your nonsense, I would expect you to be so simple.  I personally suggested against you, but of course..." He sighed and waved his hand, "... HIS majesty insisted you were the right one for the job."  Flood had turned around and grabbed a glass of some fine wine and was swirrling it about. 

"You see, Ookami has been so busy with those Oog... That word may be too big for you."  He took a drink of his wine and smiled as Chainer growled.  "...Those "Wire-Frame" thingies as someone of your stature would call them.  So she is currently unavalible to assist in matters that you are to be concerned with."  Flood pondered what he just said, "Well, that is the reason why you are even being considered for the job."

Chainer just stood there, watching Flood act like the typical pompus a** that he is.  "I'm gonna get flea's from you, you're just that annoying.  Plus I have no idea what you have picked out from Hel tonight.  I'd rather -not- contract any inflection from you.  Now stop wasting my time and tell me what it is that I've been called here for." 

Chainer flexed his fists as Flood irritated him further, a long pause placed just for this purpose.  "There has been a number of blue-pills that are starting to appear around here, they feel displaced by their current state of life.  We need you to explore this further.  Now get going, I won't let you ruin the quiet time I have inbetween dealing with the other pain's in the... Er, operatives."

Chainer made his way down the stairs, nodding to a few he knew before he headed for the exit.  The young innocent woman he had seen earlier laid in a heap by the front door.  Fresh death eminated from her young body, to his accurate nose.  Victims of this displacement were starting to show up already.

(Forgive the typo's and stuff, this was a 5AM write up as I was half asleep listening to music.)

Sensing the same thing, too. Wondering why, even now, even still, they tried so hard to stand apart from the crowd. Perhaps a comfort was to be found in an unconforming identity. A safe haven which just like everything else within the Simulation, was both imagined yet inexplicably real.

Those who tagged along, the ones with one eye closed, the other half, and sleep in both were investing more fervently than ever, the amount of energy they expended in trying to not go blind. The biggest light, however, is not always the brightest. Nor the brightest, the biggest. Those with more assortment of colour, were naturally always more fun to watch. Maroon... blue... gold... grey... though seldom black and white, seldom black and white.

Gold... blue...maroon. Flashing. X blinked.

Suddenly there were people. Noise. Excitement. Death.

The red haired hertically idiosyncratic Exile stood before him.

As all of those that choose to associate and work with or for exiles in the Matrix, at some point they also see isolation and ostracism. Pyraci hadn’t been in the business of making friends in recent months, or even in the past year, but amassed his share of enemies as a consequence. The Zionites weren’t outwardly hostile to him, yet showed him no compassion. Suspicion had grown that he had something to do with the power lines from the fields being siphoned in small quantities; leaving the Machines gunning for him. Additionally, some of his own began to conspire against him and deny affiliation with him.

The time had come to blend into the background and attain relative anonymity if he wanted to survive. Lying-low from the hassle of the police and exiles with bounties on his head, he descended into the club, hoping to buy enough time to collect his thoughts and figure out what to do next.

A moment after a red-headed figure crossed his path towards the exit, he glanced over his shoulder.

“That wasn’t… Nah… I just need to keep things quiet night…”

Diana had always been part of the "in" crowd.  Her best girl-friends were pretty, and the boy's she dated of course were the top jocks.  Her long blonde hair shined as she got up from her desk and took out her cell phone to check for recent text message; hoping to hear the latest gossip.  History class bored her, and being a Friday afternoon, an exciting night was sure to come.  As she walked out her history intructor reminded her of a paper that was over-due.

"Diana," the grey hair professor called out, "Remember, I need that paper by Tuesday or I'm going to have to put a '0' in for that assignment."

She sighed and nodded, re-assuring him as she walked out it would get done.  Her hips swayed as she walked out of the classroom making her way to the elevator.  She texted back and forth with friends as she waited for the elevator, trying to avoid eye contact with the 'un-cool' kids that wanted just an ounce of acknowledgement from her.  She paid no heed and silently got on the eleveator; riding it down she made her way out of her college and into the streets.

"Oh I know!  I can't wait!  This club is like, supposed to be the best in town!" she spoke into her phone as she walked towards her dorm.  "Yea, I bet!"  The world was oblivious to her, as she it, while she walked down the street.  Passers by would often glance at her, but quickly look away when eye contact was made.  She loved it.  She had a unique power over men, and women alike.  Her beauty allowed her power over others.  She walked down the street, pulling her shirt down occasionally when it rode up too high.

Early in the evening her dorm was buzzing.  The girls she lived with were going out with her, a typical 'girls-night-out' made them all giddy as they joked and laughed.  The idea of a new club to go to only heightened their excitment.  Diana sat infront of a mirror, almost worshiping herself as she put her makeup on.  It was far different from the makeup she would wear to school, more edgy, more punk.  She considered herself a part of the 'red-pill' culture that she knew of, partying was her main fortee.  She stayed away from the drugs from fear of her parents ever finding out and making her move back home with them.  She loved the freedom college life granted her, and she intended to make the most of it, while remaining free of her parents grasp over her personal life.

They were deep into the 'red-pill' culture.  So deep they believed, that they had even picked out names for themselves.  Diana of course had to keep a cute name, and her's was 'Alexis Sharp.'  Most of her friends told her it sounded more like a strippers name, but she liked it.  It sounded witty and smart, both parts of her personality she tried to show; and somehow 'Diana' didn't feel as cute or powerful a name.  She always felt her name was her downfall, an ugly name paired with her beautiful body just didn't seem right.  But the involvement in the sub-culture allowed her escape of the ugly name, and the false persona she had to use when in general public.

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They had driven across town, all packed in a Mercede's SUV that was bought by someone's parents, their conversations varied as they made the drive. Diana was driving, contstantly checking to make sure her long blonde hair was perfect, her black dress fitting the natural curves of her toned body nicely.  She was self conciouss, but then again; who wouldn't be when their body looked as good as her's?

The subjects went round and round from guys, to school, to the new club, and what they were going to drink tonight.  Taking pictures and giggling, listening to music the girls made their way through traffic to the outskirts of town.  As she pulled into the parking lot, the girls made a final check of themselves. 

They always felt out of place when they first arrived.  The people standing around outside were skiddish of new-comers, as if something was going to jump out and attack them.  There were some in fine leather jackets, suit coats, odd looking and almost 'tactical' gear but there was a common theme.  They always seemed ready to fight or defend themselves at the drop of a hat.  No matter how they carried themselves, the crowd seemed to be always aware of the greater feeling of the enviroment around them.

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Hours had passed as the girls partied that night.  'Alexis' had met a nice man that was seemingly polite.  She sat at the bar and made small talk with him as her friends danced away out on the floor.  Alexis had been drinking a lot, and the eager man seemed extremely into her.  As they started to talk more in depth, she became more interested.  "Sameule" was a pale skinned man, dressed in leather that was black as the liquor he drank.  The smell of the liquor bothered her nose, it seemed rank for some reason; but she dismissed it as some foreign import she never heard of before.

She noticed a tall man with a bandana over his face watching them breifly.  She turned around dismissing it as just some random admirer that was too scared to approach her.  As she turned around again to see if she was still being watched, the man seemed to glide away into the crowd, as if he was a ghost he dissapeared from her sight.

Sameule used a finger to turn her head back to staring him in the face.  The conversation deepend and her previous intrest in the odd looking man melted away as her intrest in Sameule grew.

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Chainer recognized the body as the girl he stopped to watch earlier.  Her body was now slumped in the corner, a heap of a once beautiful girl was now nothing more than a dead-weight.  He gingerly grabbed a wrist as he turned her, manuevering her into a sitting position.  He checked her for any identification, finding her college ID he thought that would be the best place to start with figuring out the intrest that the blue-pills have.

He nodded to Pyraci and XElite, as he was caught up in his newest hunt.  He pointed to the girl as he walked out the door, hoping they would understand what he is trying to say...

---

Over the raised length of tarmac, the tires scoured as the squarely solidified SUV swerved into the parking lot of the club.

In the back seat, was a girl with a black dress. Thin straps over each shoulder and frilled along its high cut line. Her eyes wild and flirty. For a blinding second, her eyes locked on his - but only for a blinding second before the bum in the oiled and stained overcoat pushed on with his adequately full trolley of blanket, dog and tin of baked beans, blinked and looked away. Talking to each other and to a plethora of partners in crime and friendship on the other end of each cell phone, the raucous music roaring from the interior of the brightly illuminated tank announced their arrival to the fanfare of girlish shrieks and giggles.

"That's whad'a remember. I only took her cell phone. Ah.... ah wan-ned somethin' to remember 'er by. Please let's not report this, officer?"

"That's alright. Your cooperation in this matter is very much appreciated. As such, we will be able to overlook this minor... borrowing."

Diana; Alexis Sharp. Typing into his PDA as he left the parking lot, the drags of burnt tire still lingering on the tarmac, X sent the message to Sephr. Knowingly in the hope that a name and alias would come in useful.

    It was a very closed-casket kind of affair.  Kate Adie: girl reporter, or so she had introduced herself, had starved herself to death.  She was found in the bedroom closet of her apartment – all the walls covered in maps finger-painted in brown and red.  Every road led out, but she kept getting lost.

    The girl had been ignored.

    On a table next to a weeping mother, lay a brownish hat – a sort of Sam Spade affair that the always-struggling journalist had received as a joke when she had landed a job at the Sentinel.  The redhead stuck to the back of the parlor.  Her hair was uniform and a unobtrusive, perched above blackened, puffy eyes and an upturned nose.  Her neck hid in the upturned collar of a black pea coat, hiding a black shirt, and pointing downward toward slate grayish pants punctuated by black shoes.

    The mourners were few and far between, but Fara left without paying respects all the same.  There was just nothing to say: they were from two different worlds.

Deciding at this point that "quiet time" wasn't an option, he vacated the parking lot just as XElite did. Making his way across the street, he felt the nudge of a peripheral pair of eyes aimed at him. He paused and turned his head to see a girl in her early twenties, with dark skin and dyed, fiery-red, short hair. Her face seeping of fear and confusion, she took off down the street.

"She couldn't have anything to do with this this job Chainer's doing, could she?" He thought to himself in that moment.

Nearly giving in to an impulse to follow and investigate, he paused as his phone vibrated in his pocket. Before being able to greet the caller, a female voice interrupts.

"Mister Reno, good t'see you've made it back t'the city. I thought you'd h've been dead by now."

Still glancing in the direction the girl fled, he replied; steam leaving his mouth into the winter air.

"Interesting  Fara Yazin. And I thought you'd have been told to send sentinels out to make sure I was dead."

"How d'you know I haven't, Mister Reno…?"

Leveraging the notion in his mind, he paused for a moment and she continued.

"…but that doesn't matter at this point. I've seen somethin' I think we should d'scuss."

"...Blue-pills..."

"...Red-pill sub-culture... Do we owe a link?  ..."

He jumped to another fire escape, landing silently as silent as a butterfly but as dangerous as a wolverine. "...What was my name?..." Chainer craned his neck around and watched the populus go about it's night life.  "...Best to hold up here for a bit..." His thought coursed through his head as the sun broke the horizon, the skyscrapers still holding enough shadow to force the city to be dark as night.  There were workers out already, delivering fresh dougnuts to the corner stores - newspaper boys dropping off bounded bricks of newspapers.

"...wonder what I would of been..."

As the shadows shortened the city came to life.  Grates grinded in their tracks as they were lifted and the city began to breath it's first breaths of a new business day.  The populus seemed to grow as the sun climbed ever higher in the morning sky, burning the haze away.  It seemed almost as if the people were there all night, only hidden by the fog that blanketed the city every night.  The chimera looked into the window of the building he was perched on, noticing the occupants readying their morning coffee.  There was a small gathering of people standing around like zombies, needing the coffee to feed their un-satisfying urge to keep moving ahead in the corporate snake. 

"...never could do that..."

Business were now in full function.  Men in business suits pushed carts loaded with cardboard boxes and papers that inveitebly ment someone's rise or downfall.  Women in attractive but powerful business attire marched triumphently amoung the masses, belitteling eachother as "wh*res" as they made eye contact; each seeming to think the other was trying too hard.

"...pick of the litter..."

He was becomming entralled with watching the city pass buy.  Not many had even mentioned doing this, or even acknowledging that the blue-pill culture was usefull for anything other than seeing "what doesn't fit."  He wondered why this was, perhaps the forced detachement zionites suffered, or the desire for something more "interesting" than a ho-hum everyday lifestyle.  Whatever it was, he missed it.  Chainer didn't have free time for that today; however, he had to figure out what was going on, and see if he could figure anything out about 'Alexis.'  His phone vibrated as he started to make his way slowly down.

"Diana; Alexis Sharp" He smiled and nodded at his phone, X had gotten the idea.  Hanging by one hand and dropping down to the street he took the time to reply.

"Thanks X, see what you can find out... I'm going to see what she was all about."

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No sooner did she raise the grate that protected the glass doors in front of the store, than did the people start walking in.  Clothing was an important part of life for people within the busy city.  Everyone had to have the latest style and it ment taking a day off work; or just getting there before everyone else.  The day was like every other though, people browsing and wasting her time.  She had shelves to stock, and maniquens to dress the less people she helped the better. 

"...Just get your job done and get home..."

The sales had been above normal that day.  And she was aggrivated, being the manager she had to over take every job that was needed, and none of her employee's were any real good at what they did.  She would often have to go over and help someone pick out something, even though she didn't care what special event it was for.  She hated having to fake the intrest, the smile, the idea that she cared if whatever event went well for that particular customer.

"...Great, another nut-job.  And he isn't gonna' make it easy for any of us..."

A tall man with red hair and too many peircings in his right ear looked as confused as she had ever seen anyone look in the store.  His black overcoat with it's collar popped and the baggy leather pants he wore were an obvious indication that he was part of some akward sub-culture.  She wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes, knowing that she was going to have to help him pick out "something nice."  As she sighed, she made her approach; she put on that fake smile and forced her eyes to glisten.  As she approached the man turned and smiled; his smile was offsetting, but she smiled in return.

"Hi!  Anything I could help you with today, sir?" She joined her hands behind her back, wiggling her hips slightly as she came to a stop, using her looks to help make the sale.

"Uh... Sure.  I need something that is goin' t'look nice.  I know what I'm wearing now isn' exactly... 'in.'"  He smiled as he made the small joke about his own choice in attire.  The smile he had was still a little upsetting , his teeth seemed slightly different, something about the way his jaw structure sat.  It was too strong.

"Well... we have this nice outfit over here." She began to walk towards the "pop-style" section as she talked, "I can tell you like looser fitting stuff, so this might be right up you're alley!"  She smiled and pointed, continuing to make her way over she looked over her back, "You're looking for what?  Jeans and a Tee?  Slacks and a button up?"

"I suppose that Jeans an'a T-Shirt would be nice.  I have t'go and check out some dorm rooms I'm interested in.  'Ya know... 'case I see any cute girls."  He chuckled and followed her like a lost puppy, seemingly oblivious to knowing what he really wanted to pick out.

Perched high above the busy streets, letting the wind whip through her shoulder-length dirty blonde hair, she watched as the SUV ferociously flew out of the parking garage.  A sudden vibration broke her out of her daze as she reached into her trenchcoat and retrieved a small black phone.

"We've possibly got a situation..."

"So it would seem."

Flipping the phone closed, she stood slowly and looked up at the bright, full moon once more and took a step forward.  As the programmed effect of gravity took hold, she descended onto the plaza adjacent to the parking garage where her captain soon emerged to meet her.

Randy never wanted to move to the city, he was a country boy through and through, but his father had landed some kind of big contract and suddenly it was up-sticks and across the state to join the rat race.  Everything about the place grated on him.  Living in an apartment instead of  farmhouse meant the three of them were practically treading on each other's toes all the time.  He could only take so many sharp words from his mother before he had to get out of the place but even then where could he go?  Nowhere in the city was as wide and open as the great outdoors.  He would feel hemmed in just walking down the street and even the parks didn't satisfy him.  Too furnished and gardened.  Randy pined for the wind in the bushes, the blue sky overhead and the thrill of the hunt. 

The one thing he'd refused to part with when they moved was the thing his parents had wanted him to leave behind most.  His hunting gear occupied the biggest cardboard box in his room and would until he could find a proper case to store the weapons in - something he'd never had to bother with in the country.  He'd had a big fight with his mother about getting licences for his weapons earlier that morning and stormed out, upset.  His father would have backed him up but he was at work, always at work now, and Randy hardly got to see him. 

Resentment.  Who are they to take everything away from me?  They can't just confiscate me, confiscate my life.  Everyone at school looks at me like some kind of bumpkin.  No one likes me here.  I miss my friends.  I don't like it here but my Dad won't let us leave.  I'll show them.  Maybe I'll become someone else, someone they'll like even less.  Maybe then they'll see.  Yeah, the old Randy had to go.  Time for something new. 

"God **** these clothes are uncomfortable... How do people put up with them..."  The feeling of a properly fitting pair of jeans and shirt made Chainer uncomfortable, not that he was used to wearing a shirt in the first place.  He walked amoung the liquid body of students and rode it like a wave, the gentle ripples guiding him around the college campus.

The student body was amazing.  Each individual like a drop of oil lubricating pistons that move the greater monster.  As he made his way silently across the campus with his hands in his pockets he stopped to watch a group of students converse about their daily events.

"Yea!  Oh my god, did you do good on that test?"  one girl said to another as they giggled and played with their hair.  He took notice of how familiar the conversation was. 

"...Just replace test's with fire-fights..."  Chainer thought as he compared the similiarities, he began to lose himself in thought.

"Hey there!"  The lupine turned as someone grabbed his shoulder, fighting the instinct to bear his fangs and snarl.  "My friends and I were wondering..." Chainer leaned to the side as she pointed back at a group of girls who seemed vacant.  Their eye's were glazed over like smooth cystal orbs as they stared at him but his gaze was broken as the girl who approached him moved into his line of sight.  "Hey, we were wondering if we know you from somewhere?" The girl tried to put on a confident look, but the wavering in her voice gave way what her stance tried to hide.

"Know me?"  Chainer pondered this for a moment as he looked to the ground, he had to remind himself he had to fit in.  Could he of done this his own way, he would of just as quickly strung the girls up to bleed out while he asked his questions.  "Nah... I'm uh..." he pondered for a moment, "I'm new here, in fact it's my first day..."  He tried to sound as confident as possible, enough to put one over on the females that watched him as if they were watching a ghost.

"Well, I'm Patty.  I'm student council and the President of my Sorority!  It's your luck day!"  Her demeanor suddenly changed from innocent to evil, as if a fissure had opened up and let a Succubus take control of her thought process.  She looked back at the girls and motioned with one finger, they approached like a pack of scared dogs.  "These our the nasty new girls that are pledging to be members of my Sorority..." A wicked grin crossed Patty's face.  "You get the pick of the litter, they have to do whatever you say."  She looked back and cackled at the girls as they bowed their heads, trying to show respect to their "President."

"Uh, well... Y'know, I haven't even met anyone here yet.  And perhap's I'm not the best pers..."  Patty placed a finger over the lupines mouth, bending over and putting her face almost against his.

"Listen, it's cool.  Just give 'em a little hell.  I mean you look like a trustworthy guy."  Her finger recceded and her hands moved to her hips.  She gave him a stern look, "As long as you're not one of those insufferable "Red-Pill" freak-shows."

Chainer forced a laugh through his teeth as he kept his jaw locked tight, fearing if he opened it too much it would give him away.  "Nah... Just a normal guy.  Say, They won't let me in my dorm yet.  How about I take one of these pledges and use 'em to get around?"

"Now you're getting the idea.  Use and abuse, if you could..."  Patty smiled and walked to the next face she saw, giving them the same introduction and story; as if she were nothing more than a repeating algorithm.

Chainer pointed to a girl with long silky black hair and motioned her to come forward.  "Minus-well at least have something nice to look at while I poke around here..."  He pulled out his phone as the girl approached.

//Hey X!  You should really come down here sometime with me!  The view, Fantastic!\\

He shut the phone and smiled at the girl.  She seemed defensive even at his politeness as he motioned for her to lead him around on a tour of the campus...

"Do we have a case yet? Is there anything we can do?"

Frank MacElhone sat on the edge of his chair, mustering what was left of his anger to contain his tears. Frank remained in control of his emotions, but it was evident that he was summoning every reserve of strength available to him to prevent himself from falling apart. Lisa, his wife, was a mere figure of despair beside him as the mascara ran down her cheeks and dark rings of grief swallowed what remained of her eyes.

"The autopsy report has not come in yet, but I suspect that foul play may have been at hand."

Lisa wailed at this, covering her face in shame and remorse as she sank further into her chair. Frank's face twisted with rage, and he bit his lip while tending to his wife as she trembled in his arms. He could barely contain his anger as he tried to comfort his wife.

"Who... who would have wanted to hurt Diana? Why would someone choose her?"

Diane Carter sat back into her chair, vulnerable to the emotional state of her clients. She truly did not know what to tell them, but only because she knew that they were ignorant of the reality they were living in. Diana, their daughter, was truly an innocent victim, but Diane could not bring it upon herself to tell Frank and Lisa what really happened to their only child. The autopsy report had certainly come in, but the Machines would take whatever measures necessary to ensure that the report did not indicate that Diane MacElhone died of unexplained hemorraghing - especially since the location where she was found was not covered in blood.

"There may not be a reason. We may have to prepare ourselves for that."

Diane motioned to her assistant, Yuriko, to tend to the MacElhone's grief. The Asian woman approached the MacElhone's with an angelic grace, delicately kneeling beside them and offering them a porcelain hand in comfort. "Please, Mr. and Mrs. MacElhone, allow me to provide an escort for both of you home." Yuriko's accent seemed to calm the grieving parents, and they slowly rose from their chairs and prepared to leave the office. As they did, Frank turned to Diane, unable to conceal the pleading in his tone.

"I need to know who did this. I do not trust the police in this matter. They see my daughter as just a typical nightclub trash. She was much more than that. I need this matter dealt with."

Diane knew what Frank was referring to. Not so much that his daughter was perceived as one of the myriad puppets that flocked desperately around the City's social hot spots in a desperate plea for some form of recognition, but more so that Diane knew how to get certain things done. After all, Lisa only remained married to Frank because Diane knew of his infidelities, and he in turn was trapped by his liasions. Zaleski, Diane's unseen but resourceful right hand man, had ensured that photographs of Frank MacElhone with several of the City's prostitutes fell into the right hands. After Diane convinced Frank that those photos would never see the light of day and the parties responsible were dealt with, he had no choice but to comply with whatever demand she asked of him. Now, however, Frank was truly in a desperate situation that even Diane could not ignore or exploit to her own advantage. His daughter may have been a stupid college kid, but she didn't deserve to die the way she did. Diane felt an obligation to help Frank, no matter how selfish of a man he may have been.

"I shall see what I can do. I can make a few calls."

"Thank you." Frank held his wife in his arms and escorted her from Diane's office. Yuriko closed the door behind them, turning slowly to her boss and gliding gracefully across the room. Yuriko's kimono shimmered slightly as she sat into the chair in front of Diane's desk. The two women looked at each other calmly, deep in thought and with great concern over what they listened to.

"Shall I call Zaleski for you? Carradine, perhaps?"

Diane paused only slightly before answering. "No, not them. As useful as Zaleski is he is not the right one to look into this. Carradine is also not the right candidate. We have been seen together."

Yuriko looked puzzled.

Diane opened her desk drawer and pulled a business card from one of her folios. It was a plain white card, embossed with black lettering and rather innocuous in appearance. Diane stared at the card for a moment, and then placed it on her desk and slid it across to Yuriko.

"Call this man. He is one of us. I am hopeful that he can not only investigate and identify the party responsible for Diana MacElhone's murder, but also ensure that the party responsible is convinced to never take such action against anyone in the future. Make certain that he does not know who you represent."

Yuriko took the card and read its contents.

Hector Klizos, Confidant. Contract Negotiation Specialist. The words were followed by a phone number.

"I will call him immediately. Are there any instructions if he fails us?"

Diane looked blankly at Yuriko for a moment, then smiled slightly.

"Do whatever it is that you do best. I cannot have this traced back to me or The Carter Group."

Yuriko stood and bowed, her eyes revealing a level of satisfaction with the liberties she had just been granted.

"As you wish, Councilor."

The college seemed quite bare. No river of students. No watchful gaze of the security staff. Perfect.

A single gold vehicle rolled along the tarmac smoothly, coming to a halt as the luminous green light underneath switched off, followed by the departure of its single occupant and a high pitched chirp as each tail light flashed a silent bright orange in response.

Not long after, another. Then another. And some more such vehicles came to a gathering.

"Did you hear about Diana? Yeah some kind of club... right? Yeah, I heard she was shot up or something. Nah, she OD'd, man. Anyway, when's the race, tonight? I'm feeling pretty electric, need to get some of this excitement out of my system. Heh, if you win that is. Heh, I always win. Every week, we gather here, every week the bets are divided, every week you run your mouth and every week I wipe the floor with you. Diana, what about her? OD'd? Hey, the 5-0 are still investigating, right? That means they are unsure as to the cause of death. I'd know, man. My dad works in the forensiscs investigation team. He does, huh? And what'd your name be? Hahahaha, Hector Hernandez. You know that, Sam."

//

To: [email protected]
Subject: Crime Lab.

CSI Hernandez.

X.

\\

The tour of the campus was enlightening, but the underlying motive was not forgotten.  After grabbing a quick lunch with his "Sassy new Sidekick" the tall red-haired man insisted on a tour of the dorm rooms.  Hestiant to break rules and get in trouble, a little pay off raised some suspision but convinced the bruenette that was assigned to Chainer to get him in.

"So, you think this will be easy to get past the security at the front desk?"

"Oh sure!  I just gotta make like I know you!"

The girl giggled and took Chainers hand to hurry him up.  As they walked in, the security stopped them.  A middle aged man that obviously didn't accomplish much but still had a smile held out a pen and a 3-ring binder.

"You got's 'ta sign in.  School policy, y'know!" 

Chainer smiled, but broke a small sweat as he tried to think of a name; he never had to use his old blue-pill name.  It had been so long infact, that he had forgotten it compleatly.

"Oh hunny, here!"  The girl quickly grabbed the pen out of his hand and signed the paper.  "You're so nervous without having our parents around for once!  Jeesh!"  She giggled at her own comment and smirked as she finished writing down the information.  The security gaurd smiled at what he thought was two young-adults in love and took the binder - putting it back in it's rightfull place.

"You two behave yourselves!  Don't get in too much trouble!"  He smiled, his crooked teeth oddly warming and honest.