Hey there,

Well when we last left the ipswitch crew, Logan was about to start telling Geiar how they got together. . .This is the first part of that story.

Uhh. . . I'd have to rate this section as PG-13 -- R, mostly depending on your tastes on violence. Lots of flying bullets, some foul language (mostly due to the flying bullets), security guards with bad timing, and a creative use for brandy ;) Other than that, all the usual disclaimers apply.

Hopefully more to come soon,

Enjoy :)

Jen

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Generic Disclaimer

Sabe De La Torre -- is the original Creation of Julie of Providence

Geiar N'Dege -- is my original character. (This is Geiar V.1 -- she is the first, and not the same one who appears in Primary Access.)

Logan West -- is the original creation of Brian of Baltimore.

Raith Westheimer -- is the original creation of Zach of Taos.

Mr. Johnson -- is my original creation inspired by Jason of Portland, our game master.

Category -- Adventure/Drama

Rating -- PG-13 -- Contains some strong language and violence.

Disclaimer -- This is original fiction, inspired by a year's worth of roleplaying while living at the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque. All characters belong to their respective owners, I'm not writing for profit here, just for fun.

To the Ipswitch Crew -- Although time and geography may have robbed us of our frienship and I cannot properly ask you for permission to use your creations, I hope that my humble attempts at breathing life into a memory meet with your satisfaction and enjoyment should you ever find this work before you.

By Jenna.

The headlights of Logan's Camaro faded into the darkness of the parking structure as the two men checked over their equipment one last time.

"Cyprus apartments," Raith said.

"Yup." Logan eyed the chamber of his pistol, making sure a live round awaited his command.

"South entrance." Raith peered through the tinted glass of the Camaro and looked for an indication of their bearing. "The door we're looking for should be in that corner just behind the column." He nudged his nose into the air as a direction. "Penthouse suite, the book is in the gallery. . ." Raith didn't really need to repeat the information, they already knew their mission inside and out, but it calmed his nerves.

"Lasernet security . . ." Logan's answers were mostly to humor him. He pulled a small duffel bag into his lap and reached inside feeling for the pouch of chalk dust. When his fingers found it, he relaxed then continued to fish around making sure everything else was accounted for.

"You loaded?" Logan asked, looking over at Raith who was busy checking his own equipment. He stopped with one hand over his left hip pocket.

"Where's my lighter?" He asked. "I need my lighter."

"Don't you have it? What the hell did you do with it?" Logan began feeling between the seats for the missing lighter. "Do you really need it?"

"It's my lucky lighter. . "

"Christ! When did you start believing in luck?" Logan stopped looking and glared at Raith.

"Just find the damn thing will ya?" Raith began squirming in his seat trying to reach all the pockets in his black BDU pants hoping to find the missing lighter.

"Here, take mine." Logan pulled his lighter from his pocket and slammed it into Raith's hand. Raith took one look then glared back at Logan.

"What the hell is this?" He shook the lighter in Logan's face. "What are you doing with my lighter?"

"I found it in the street outside the office. . .That's your lighter?? It's a goddam Bic!" He growled as Raith flicked it and smiled like a child who had found his favorite toy. "I can't believe this," Logan said as he lumbered out of the car pulling the duffel with him.

"This is the lighter I found when we were trapped in that boxcar last month." Raith said, as he caught up to Logan who was already making his way across the parking structure. "It's lucky!"

Logan stopped, grabbed the lighter from Raith, and shook it. "It's disposable!"

"It got us out of that boxcar!"

"And it was probably left by the guy who trapped us in there to begin with." Logan watched as Raith's blue eyes steeled. "Okay fine, it's lucky, are you with me here or what?"

"I'm with you," Raith said, relenting. He grabbed the lighter from Logan's impatiently outstretched hand and dropped it back in his hip pocket, careful to make sure the pocket got buttoned.

They walked toward the service entrance, taking note of what was around them. The structure was nearly full. Must not be a lively building, Logan noted as they approached the locked doors . . . Everyone's home. He began to doubt the timing for this job but Mr. Johnson had assured him that the residents of that particular suite would not be there this weekend. It didn't really matter anyway, he had bills demanding attention and that book was the payment. The last payment at that, and a building full of people with no life wasn't going to scare him off.

Raith crouched beside the door and produced what Sabe affectionately called their all-access pass: a set of lock picks. It was a Saturday night, and most of the maintenance crew would be gone for the weekend. The one or two unlucky souls left to deal with emergencies were probably already four fingers from the bottom of their first bottle of JD and not in any mood to investigate the odd noises they might hear. That was quite alright with Logan and Raith, and if they thought it would help any, they'd spring for a second bottle.

The door opened with a noisy complaint from the hinges making the two men scramble inside. They were on the clock now, they had to be quiet and fast. Granted this was a simple burglary, but getting caught was always a threat. It's the simple things that do you in, Logan thought, as they sneaked through the empty corridors of the maintenance facility.

They stopped at a T intersection and Raith motioned to the left. He quickly glanced around the corner then relaxed again when he saw they had a clear path to the freight elevator. A few moments later the heavy steel doors closed behind them and with the push of a button they began their climb up the spine of the building. Except for the occasional rattle from the cage they were in, neither man spoke. Raith counted off the floors as they passed while Logan stared blankly ahead and popped his knuckles.

Raith let a few pops pass unnoticed. But by the time Logan changed hands, he felt like Logan was plucking at his vertebrae. "Cut that out already will ya? You're driving me nuts!" Raith watched, amused, as Logan dropped his hands, then looked around, unsure what to do with himself. Eventually he was forced to cross his arms in an attempt to keep still.

When the elevator stopped, they cautiously raised the gate and looked around. Raith's pistol led them into the maze of large pipes, even larger boilers and deep into the bowels of one of the building's physical plant. They lurked around the sides of ventilation units until they found the doorway and the stairs they were looking for. Another few minutes of needling locks and they emerged on the roof of the high-rise.

"Here's where we learn how to fly." Raith said as he peered over the edge to a bump-out in the building and the penthouse suite that crowned it. The bump-out was only about four stories beneath them, but it was enough of a fall to kill a man and Raith didn't care for the risk.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of falling." Logan said through a wicked grin as he quickly began pulling equipment from the duffel. Raith grabbed at the offered rappelling harness as Logan began working to anchor their ropes.

"Falling? No." Raith adjusted himself in his harness as he watched Logan work. "It's the sudden stop at the end I don't like." The harness was uncomfortable and promising to get even more so on the trip down. "I hate this thing," he muttered.

After Logan finished anchoring the ropes he looked over the edge of the building. "Well if you don't want to become a ground dart, then don't let go." He said, wagging the loose end of Raith's rope around until he grabbed it and went to work. When they were ready, Logan stood on the edge of the building, leaned into the air and waited for Raith to join him. A few moments later they dropped silently into the rooftop garden surrounding their target.

When they reached the French doors near the center of the patio, a freshly cut circle of glass greeted them. Both men raised their eyebrows in surprise and Logan again considered abandoning the mission, but decided they'd come to far to stop. With brandished pistols, they quietly entered the penthouse. Gravitating toward dark corners and recessed spaces, they made their way through the corridors. As they turned the last corner the gallery that housed their prize came into view. Crisp white walls housed an impressive collection of art and artifacts. Each piece was highlighted by some hidden fixture that splashed light over the walls and puddled it around shelves and pedestals. Whoever lived here, Logan thought, they sure had taste. . .and the money to back it up.

The book, their prize, rested on a slender column near the middle of the room. Thick yellow pages looked toward the ceiling and were heavily decorated with rich inks and graceful, if not complicated, handwriting.

In the corner of the room, a slight motion caught their eye. Someone moved in the shadows and Raith immediately aimed his gun. He followed them along the wall to a console in the far end of the room. It was a woman, he realized as she snapped her head to the side causing a dark braid of hair to whip behind her like a tail. She didn't see them, but instead turned back to cracking the security system that protected the pieces in the gallery. He watched as she touched her ear then move in close to the console and drop her head as if she was praying.

Let her do the work, Raith decided, it's less we have to worry about. And besides, she's not a problem, we can take her. The book is as good as ours. A moment later she perked up again and headed toward the center of the room and the column with the book, their book, on it. As she stepped into the corona of light spilling down from the display, Logan gasped. In one step she was facing them, her own gun pulled and ready to fire.

"Show yourself." She whispered harshly aiming her pistol into the darkness of the hallway.

"Holy shit." Raith muttered as they stepped into a nearby slash of light. The barrel of her pistol wavered slightly as their faces came into view, then it dropped completely when they raised their hands in submission.

"Geiar?" Logan approached cautiously. "What are you doing here?"

"Me?" She turned her attention back toward the book on the pedestal.

"You can't take that! I need it!" Logan said as he lunged for the text. But she was too fast for him and she had the book and was headed for the door.

"Don't do this." Raith warned, blocking her exit as Logan came up behind her.

"You're just gonna sell it." She argued. Geiar circled away from them again as she retreated to the other side of the room. Logan pursued her as Raith kept guard near the entrance.

Raith checked his watch, "do something. . ." Their plan was unraveling faster than a bad alibi and whatever window of time they might have had was gone the minute Geiar entered the equation. It was only a matter of minutes before security joined in on the reunion. Raith groaned as she evaded Logan again. It was becoming ridiculous, he thought.

"It's just a hobby!" Logan argued, but she didn't listen. His comment only hardened her resolve not to give up

"We're out of time!" Raith continued his vigil at the door.

"What do you want me to do? Knock her out?" Logan asked as she tried to get away again, but he caught her and roughly pushed her back into a corner. Geiar aimed a tight fisted left hook at his jaw, but he caught the punch in midair. He twisted her around until her fist pressed uncomfortably between her shoulder blades. She whimpered and he released his grip slightly. "I don't want to hurt you." He hissed. "But I need that book!"

"So do I!" Geiar ground the heel of her boot against his shin trying yet again to escape, but he caught her and twisted her around. She glared at him, her eyes black with anger. It was either a threat or a dare, but Logan didn't bother to decide. His hands coiled tightly around her arms as he lifted her and crushed his lips against hers in a brutal kiss. Geiar thrashed against him, no longer caring about the book as it fell from her hands. He released her in time to catch it as he pulled away grinning at his success.

"Thanks," he said. Then while she was still reeling, he tossed it to Raith who was snickering in the doorway. Anger shook her as her hands curled into fists and Logan realized he'd gone too far. But before he could apologize she reached up, clasped his head in her hands and yanked him down to face her.

Logan was nearly bent in half when she kissed him; driving her tongue between his teeth. His arms flailed in surprise as she continued her assault, but they soon stopped and rested nervously on her hips. When he kissed her it was a slam, bam thank you ma'am kind of kiss; rough and fast and just enough to get what he wanted. But she was taking her time; flagrantly exploring him until it became as intimate as sex. The feeling of her permeated his system and Logan found himself responding. But when she felt the flick of his tongue in her mouth she pushed him away and slapped him leaving a small, bright red handprint behind marking the impact. Breathless and confused Logan rubbed away the injury, as he watched her push past a slack-jawed Raith and disappear into the hallway.

Why can't a mission ever go as planned, Raith asked himself as he followed Logan out of the gallery. She stalked through the penthouse enraged by Logan and what he'd done. . .what he'd made her do. Why were they even following her, she wondered, too angry to turn around and find out. Did they want more? Halfway through the penthouse, the muted clap of boots on bare floors announced the presence of security in the building. Raith took the lead and made a break for the patio as Logan grabbed Geiar and pulled her along. Gunfire erupted as building security began hunting down the intruders.

They were close enough to see the patio doors from the large antique bar they ducked behind for cover. But with security just across the way, there was no reaching them. Raith and Logan began firing back. At least the bar would offer some protection, Logan thought as he glanced over at Geiar who was sitting quietly as if nothing was wrong. "You gonna help?" He asked, shaking her shoulder. She just looked at him, then crossed her arms and turned away. "Bitch later. . . We're getting shot here. . ."

"Hey!" Raith slapped at Logan. "Baby-sit for a minute, I gotta do something." He handed Logan the book and moved away from the bar. Geiar was still sitting cross-armed and staring blankly ahead as Raith reached behind her for a kitchen towel and two bottles of booze.

"Presidente brandy. . ." he said, proffering the bottle toward Geiar. "Good year, want some?" His eyes sparked with playfulness forcing Geiar to relax as he poured the contents of the bottle on the towel. Then, he shoved the alcohol drenched towel into the other bottle. "Get ready to run," he said, finally cracking a devilish smile as he crawled back toward Logan.

"See?" Raith said, fishing the lighter from his pocket and making an obvious show of lighting the rag. "Lucky!" Soon it was blazing. Without waiting for an answer, Raith tossed the bottle over the bar and into the hallway where it landed in an explosion of flames and glass. They broke for the door.

Once outside their next obstacle came into view; the 30 story drop to the ground. Logan stopped. "Where is she?" He said, spinning around and looking for Geiar. "She's gone!" From outside he could see flames licking up the walls of the room they were just in, but it wouldn't keep security at bay for long and she was still missing.

"She's not here?" Raith turned toward the penthouse in time to see the first security guards break through the growing fire. "Geiar!" Despite the threat to his own life, he charged them and re-entered the penthouse. Logan followed.

"It's too late. . .she's gone!" He shouted raising an arm to shield his face from the heat.

"She's gotta be somewhere," Raith said, looking blindly into the smoke for some sign of his missing partner. "We can't leave her! What if they got her?" He ran to the hallway leading back to the gallery but was stopped by a wall of flames.

"Then she's still gone, they wouldn't keep her here!" Logan and Raith flinched as overhead sprinklers finally activated. It's weak spray of water only dimmed the flames, but didn't put them out. Everything sizzled. "We can't help her if we're dead!" Logan said choking on a lung-full of smoke. Giving up on logic, he turned Raith around and shoved him out of the penthouse, emerging just seconds before a flashover consumed the room.

Smoke billowed from the open patio door as one disoriented security guard stumbled out, screaming in pain. He collapsed on the ground and rolled, finally ending up face down and completely still. Logan couldn't tell if he was alive, but if he stopped to check they'd be as good as dead themselves. With the noise of the fire they hadn't heard the chopper approach, but as a spotlight danced around them they ran for whatever cover they could find.

From where she sat, huddled on a dark balcony two stories above the bump out in the building, Geiar watched Logan and Raith race across the burning rooftop looking for a way out. Infuriated and humiliated, Raith's Molotov cocktail gave her the perfect opportunity to get away from them. They got in, they can get out, she thought. But now as they were desperate to escape, guilt set in. Everything had gone wrong for them. Whatever plans they might have had she destroyed and left them twisting in the wind. Panic set in when she saw the chopper approaching from the north; a squad of highly trained private security en route to the alarms going off in the building. Christ, it's a corporate apartment! Geiar realized her information had been wrong. Her informant said it was privately owned, not the well protected holdings of some megacorp. Surely the guys didn't know either or they would have come prepared. Their handguns were no match against the large collection of weaponry corp. security had at their disposal. She regretted leaving. If she had stayed at least they'd be together, one more gun on their side.

"Come on guys, find the shaft," she said quietly. "Find the goddam shaft, it's right there!" The search light from the hovering chopper was almost on top of them when Raith spotted the half-hidden airshaft in the wall behind the penthouse. He kicked at the grate which easily fell away and soon they disappeared into the hollows of the building.

Her relief was short lived as lines dropped down from either side of the chopper releasing its cargo of private, megacorp funded security. They moved around the grounds, completely unconcerned with the burning penthouse. That wasn't their objective, she noticed, that's what fire crews are for. Hunting down the two criminals who'd started it was the goal of that team. Geiar idly wondered if she'd have problems getting out, herself. But right now she was more worried about her friends. There had to be a way to help them.

Geiar ducked back into an empty office just in time to avoid being caught in the glare of the chopper's spotlight as it swung around the building. The room was strewn with the remnants of some business. It was a far cry from the chaos going on outside. In here everything was still and quiet. A collection of chairs were stacked against the far wall while desks peeked out from behind a labyrinth of cubicle walls. Paper was scattered all over the floor, as if whoever was here left in a hurry. Picking up a page, she saw that it was part of a memo; something about a deal going bad. Geiar dropped the paper, uninterested. She crouched behind a cubicle divider as the hovering chopper began to get interested in other floors of the building. As she waited for it to move on, her hand fell on an abandoned telephone. Following the phone back to its connection beneath a nearby desk, Geiar smiled as an idea began to develop.

She pulled a small silver cigarette case from her jacket pocket and opened it, looking for the correct adapter. This was her own version of Sabe's all access pass, and it allowed her to crack into almost any kind of system. Once she found the right one, Geiar pulled the cord from the back of the telephone, fitted it to the adapter, then pressed it into the interface behind her ear. She hoped she was well hidden. Just because those security teams weren't out for her it didn't mean they couldn't find her anyway. And jacked in she was defenseless, she knew that too well. Usually either Logan or Raith was there for protection, but this time around it was her turn to protect them. She bowed her head as her attention was drawn from the physical world into the digital one.

"Son of a bitch!" Raith spun around as a second alarm went off like the wail of a siren. "What's going on?" They had been fairly successful at blocking out the incessant buzz and bright strobe of the fire alarms, but this one broke through their concentration with a new insistency. The hallways were deserted as they made their way down one set of apartments. Tenants had abandoned the building in a panic, leaving everything behind, and Raith had watched every one of them pass hoping to catch a glimpse of Geiar.

"Hell if I know." Logan said, himself hoping to see her while they walked past a row of abandoned apartment suites. He hated leaving her behind, and guilt began gnawing away at him as they continued. Don't give up on her, he told himself, she's a survivor. Geiar had the uncanny ability to disappear in plain sight, a skill that had served her well many times before. She's probably already on her way home preparing one hell of an ass chewing for Monday morning, Logan mused.

At the far end of the hall two guards appeared around a corner. They seemed relaxed, as if this search was routine. Maybe they'd given up and were just clearing the floors of remaining tenants because of the fire. But when they turned around, it didn't take long for them to start firing and Logan and Raith ducked into an open apartment.

"Not this again," Logan groaned, as he saw another large bar standing in the corner of the room. "Heavy drinkers, aren't they?"

"I could use a drink myself," Raith said, as he peeked out the door and fired a few rounds at the approaching guards. He was answered with a blast of ammunition from a submachine gun. "The fuckers are armed," he muttered.

"You don't say. . ."

"MPK's maybe?. . .Mac-10's? . . . I can't tell from here. . ." Raith nosed his pistol into the crack of the door and aimed. "Ain't gonna matter in a minute." The first shot knocked one guard to the floor, and was answered with a generous spray from his partner. Raith ducked back into the apartment. "A nice big bottle of two dollar whiskey. . ." He said taking aim again.

"Ah, the good stuff," Logan whispered from behind. A second shot rang through the hall and the remaining guard fell with a thud.

"Only the best," Raith said through a narrow grin. Cautiously, they poked their heads out of the apartment and waited to see if anyone else would show up. "We're leaving the car," Raith announced, as he motioned to Logan that the coast was clear. Logan groaned, but accepted the decision. It wouldn't be the first time he'd abandoned his car at the scene, but he hated doing it. Leaving his beloved Camaro behind always ran the risk of it being confiscated. After five years of hunting down original parts, all-nighters bent over a stubborn engine block and coaxing dents and rough metal back into a sleek shape, the last thing Logan wanted to do was hand his car over to someone who'd only value it for what it could say about the owner.

I hate Plan B," Logan said, pushing open the heavy steel door that lead to the stairs and hopefully outside. Just then a third alarm sounded. The two men raced down the stairs until they ran out on the 15th floor. Emerging from the stairwell, they crossed the building, found another set of stairs and continued their descent until they found themselves back in the basement parking lot.

"No car?" Logan asked again, hoping Raith had changed his mind. They were on the other side of the structure, he couldn't even see his car from there, but he didn't want to leave it. Raith kicked away a security barricade and directed Logan toward an open utility hole.

"Down!" Raith ordered and Logan obediently dropped in. Raith disappeared quickly after.

Geiar sat up with a start, banging her head against the top of the desk she was leaning on. She jumped at the noise then looked around to see if she was still alone. Everything was the same except for the symphony of alarms going off in the hallway outside. The sound made her smile. Hopefully they caused enough confusion that Logan and Raith were able to escape in the middle of it. She quickly pocketed her equipment and let herself out of the office, careful not to be seen. As she crept down the hall, she released her hair from it's braid and mussed it planning to blend in with the crowd of people she hoped was still evacuating the building.

"Hey you!" A rough voice shouted from behind. Geiar froze. "You. . .Lady! Stop where you are!" The voice was getting closer and she was afraid to turn around. Shortly, she was approached by a fire fighter. He was wet, his face blackened by smoke, and he wasn't smiling. "Don't you know there's alarms going off? What the hell are you doing here?" She searched for a response as his radio crackled. He answered the static with a few mumbled words, looked at her again then added a few comments to his earlier transmission.

"Sorry, I didn't hear them, I was working." It wasn't a complete lie.

"Someone is coming for you," he said. "You corporate types. . ." he ended his comment with a sneer.

Shortly after, another man showed up. Security, probably from the same crew that dropped out of the chopper earlier. Geiar didn't know what to do. She was almost sure she hadn't been spotted leaving the penthouse, but almost wouldn't save her if she was wrong. He was dressed in black BDU's and armed with a Walther MPK submachine gun which was slung on a strap across his shoulder. His face was smeared with black grease. Camouflage tactics. . .far better to hunt you with, my dear, Geiar mused. He pushed the gun behind him and ambled toward her not completely disappointed by his change in orders. The firefighter stepped into the guard's path and explained where he'd found Geiar as the guard causally eyed her.

"Okay, let's go," He said after the firefighter left. Geiar turned to walk toward the stairwell when he lay a hand on her shoulder. She stopped immediately and his hand squeezed tighter. Any lower than that and he'll feel the holster under her jacket, she though frantically.

"This way." He turned her toward the elevators then released her shoulder when she started walking again.

"I thought you were supposed to take the stairs in an emergency." Geiar had to say something, she couldn't stay quiet forever.

"The only emergency is a couple of criminals loose in the building," he answered as they stepped into the elevator. "No fire." Fire, Geiar thought, yes there is a fire, at least there was. She wondered if it had been put out already or if he was lying. Either answer didn't make her any more comfortable about dropping thirty stories in a small metal box. The guard put his key into the override switch and pressed the button for the ground floor. The doors closed, sealing Geiar in with her escort. He studied her face. "Haven't seen you before."

"You know everyone here?" She was trying to dodge his question. A smile brightened his grease streaked face as he shook his head.

"Obviously not."

"If there's no fire then why are the alarms going off?" Geiar already knew the answer to that question but she was curious to see what his explanation would be.

"They probably did it to throw us off their trail."

"So you caught them, then?" Geiar asked, even though she wasn't really sure she wanted to know the answer.

"Not yet."

"Then it looks like it's working. . .don't you think?" It's been nearly an hour since she left them, they must have gotten out by now, she thought. There's a very good chance they're alright. Geiar tried hard to maintain a serious expression, but her excitement bubbled inside and she couldn't help but flash a brief smile at that little victory. The guard smirked, but maintained his optimism in the face of her playful jibe. The elevator descended agonizingly slow and Geiar couldn't wait to be out. She hated small spaces, especially ones this small and the air was getting warm and stale. She fought to keep from panicking.

"You always go to work dressed like that?" The guard pointed to her outfit: black leather pants, leather biker's jacket and black button-up shirt. It definitely wasn't corporate attire. Geiar looked at him; green eyes, blonde hair, and he was still smiling. Christ, she thought, here? She hoped it was her nerves, what kind of a guy hits on a woman in an elevator during a building evacuation? What is he thinking? Unfortunately, she had to humor him. After all, one false move now and those doors may never open.

"Only on Saturday nights," she said.

"You always work Saturday nights?" He asked, moving closer; his smile still bright and friendly, despite the gun. Geiar shrugged, as if to agree without actually saying anything. "Someone like you? There's something wrong with that picture." He was getting more courageous, she thought.

"Well, you know how work can be. . ." He chuckled and she tried not to catch his eye for the rest of the ride down. She wasn't successful, and the small talk continued. Once they reached the lobby, he led her through the main entrance and was about to release her into the crowd when he stopped her again.

"What were you doing up there, anyway?" His arm rested casually on the top of his gun like a threat. "That floor hasn't been used in months." Curiosity rested in his eyes, but she brushed it away with a smile.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," she said coyly. A sharp voice barked at her guard and as he turned to acknowledge his superior, Geiar took the opportunity to disappear for the second time that night.

Three miles away, Raith and Logan crawled out of a storm drain and dropped into a mostly dry ditch.

"We need a new Plan B," Logan said, as he clambered up the edge of the ditch trying desperately not to fall back into the mud and whatever else they had been stepping in. Just as they reached the street, a car turned the corner and caught them in the glare of the headlights startling the two men. But the car passed uninterested in their muddy, disheveled appearance.

Raith recognized that part of town. It was old and well groomed, but not expensive like where Sabe lived. Tall, narrow town homes lined the streets behind honest-to-God green living trees. This was one of the last few middle class neighborhoods in Portland. A place he never bothered to wander into unless he had to. He decided a long time ago he didn't like it; all those people ignoring their modest roots for the chance to pretend to be more than they were. Frauds, one and all, Raith thought as they passed quietly through the empty streets.

He liked the warehouse district with it's converted buildings and rough, but honest people. It was home and from here it was probably a good two hours walk. Dawn was already a purple slash on the horizon.

"You gotta see this thing," Logan said out of nowhere. He had pulled the book from his jacket and began reading it as they walked. "Some kind of funky language, what is that?" He proffered the book to Raith who glanced at it then shook his head.

"Dunno. . .Hey wait, look." Raith pointed to a symbol on the page. "That looks familiar." They stopped and stared at the mark hoping in some way that it might decipher the rest of the writing on the page. It didn't. "No wonder she was after it. . ." Raith looked at Logan as guilt for abandoning her settled onto their shoulders.

"She got out," Logan said, not taking his eyes away from the open book. "She's better than that."

End.