Sara woke up, momentarily disoriented, as she was lying on her couch instead of in her bed. Sighing to herself, She stood up and looked around. Noticing the extra pair of boots next to the back door, Sara remembered that she had a guest in her house. Stretching slowly, Sara felt her joints pop lightly, and then she swept her left hand through her hair. Sara grimaced as she felt the slickness of her hair, deciding to have a long shower, just to get nice and extremely clean before she did anything else. Walking up to the bathroom with the shower, Sara heard that it was already running, and chuckled ruefully to herself.

Five minutes later, as Sara was cleaning up some things in her room, she heard Stryk’s voice call out. "Hey Sara, just wondering, but do you have any spare clothes I could borrow for a little while? I’d love it if I could get my regular gear cleaned before I decide to leave."

Stryk was being fairly quiet, as if she knew that Sara’s mind was focussed on something totally different than what she had been doing, even though Sara replied quickly. "Yeah, sure. Hope you don’t mind a long shirt for now. I’ll try to dig up a pair of pants that aren’t too big for you as well, but don’t bet on it."

Sara grabbed a T-shirt that, when she was Stryk’s height, went past her knees, and tossed the article of clothing through the gap thoughtfully left open by Stryk. The teen laughed as Sara went back into her room, but Sara easily heard when the bathroom was vacated, as Stryk yelled "Hey! I’m going to raid your fridge, so have fun!" Sara sighed in exasperation, then had a shower that lasted at least half an hour. After drying off, and feeling humanly clean for the first time since she had touched her sword last night, Sara went back into her room and grabbed a clean pair of jeans and a tanktop.

After getting dressed, Sara walked down into her living room just in time to see Stryk walk out of her kitchen, carrying a quad-decker sandwich. Sara raised an eyebrow, realizing that Stryk had probably cleared out her entire stock of cold cuts and cheese. Sighing, she went into the kitchen, and confirmed her previous assessment of her guest’s eating habits. "Well, It looks like you’re going to clear out my fridge faster than Six did. So, care to tell me why you decided to come here for refuge?"

Stryk nodded, and tried to speak through a mouthful of her sandwich, but the response was muffled, and she nearly choked. Sara had to hit Stryk between the shoulder-blades to stop the coughing fit, but soon Stryk was back to normal. "So, what happened?"

Stryk sighed slightly, then told all. "Well, I had to umm, acquire some funding, so I went out to do some banking. While I was leaving the establishment, I was ambushed by squad of those damned greenskins."

Sara nodded, and frowned slightly. "So, you were out practising some petty larceny and you got trumped by some greenies. Either they’re getting smarter, or you’ve lost your touch."

Stryk’s response was an upraised middle finger, followed by Sara’s laugh. "I don’t practice larceny. I’m an independent security expert, and I’m damn good at picking out holes in security nets. Anyhow, before I incriminate myself, I may as well finish my story."

Sara grinned, then let Stryk continue with her explanation. "Well, I led them on a merry little romp through the north end, just keeping far enough away to make them think about giving up, but then I stumbled on a group of about thirty near one of the warehouses on the waterfront. About ten of those decided to give chase, and I barely escaped with my skin intact. If any of them had heavy weapons, I would’ve been turned into a pink and silver smear on a wall."

Sara raised an eyebrow, then remembered the little bits of metal she had seen on Stryk’s temples when she had been shot. "Ah yes. Your involuntary enhancements. Every once in a while, I occasionally think that you’re a techno-sibling."

Stryk looked at Sara oddly, obviously wondering how Sara could say something so blunt. "Okay, I give. How could you say that, and keep a straight face?"

Stryk finished off the last few pieces of the sandwich while speaking, so Sara moved into the kitchen and brewed up a mug of tea for herself. After she finished creating her drink, Sara went into the living room, where Stryk was lounging on the couch, and decided to explain. "Simple. I am pretty much a cyborg myself. Some people would argue against that, but it’s all semantics. Now, if someone decided to remove every piece of technology or inorganic material, they’d get roughly ten pounds of metal bones, and another ten pounds of nanomachinery. And after that procedure, I’d have no bones in my arms, legs or have a ribcage. That and I would die a short time later due to asphyxia."

Sara noticed the blank look on Stryk’s face and grinned. "Think of it this way. My nano-enhancements were created and used on me to save my life. A side effect is that I’m a lot tougher to kill or injure seriously. Now, personally, I’d hate to have just been abducted and experimented on like a lab rat, but there should be a benefit somewhere in all that, right?"

Stryk let her mind percolate for a few seconds, thinking about what Sara had said, but then shook her head. "Nope. I mean, being able to outrun a Cyber is cool and all, not to mention the automatic mastery with firearms, but having to recharge is an absolute bitch, followed up by having your family turn you away because they haven’t seen you in three years."

Stryk grinned, chuckling at herself. "No, they really aren’t a benefit. If I could have changed anything about my life, it would be to stay up just an hour longer with my family on the last night I had with them. All that is why I want to find Von Reichter and liquify him."

Sara looked at Stryk, understanding of what the girl had gone through finally dawning on her. Sara nodded, looking grim. "I hate him too, and for the same reasons. My grandparents, the only two people I truly cared about, and a houseful of children under the age of ten were killed when a group of greenskins blew up the place. I don’t know why they did that, but I’m going to hunt down and kill every greenskin in this place as payback. May as well hate the creator of those brutes at the same time."

Stryk sat down beside Sara, noticing the scars that had turned half of Sara’s face into a tracery of lines and grooves. "I spent almost three days unearthing bodies, trying to find someone who had survived. I failed. In the end, I swore revenge, and now I’m here, with an ample array of targets to pick from."

Sara had clenched her hand so tightly around the mug that she didn’t hear the thick ceramic crack under the strain of her grip. The next thing she noticed was the shattered bits of the mug biting into her hand and the hot tea burning her skin. "Ow! Fuck. That’s the third time this month that I’ve crushed a mug, and I don’t know why."

Stryk nodded, looking at the mess of ceramic shards that Sara was pulling out of her hand, almost always accompanied by an array of swearing for each shard. "Well, from what I’ve seen, some words set you off, and when that happens, people around had best be careful."

Sara grinned sheepishly as she finished removing bits of the mug from her hand, letting the array of tiny wounds seal themselves. "Well, at least I now know what the problem might be. Of course, it might just be the influences on me."

Stryk smiled and nodded. "Well, you seem to have it worse than I do. You’re nuts, probably set off to do several horrible things when you were younger, and have enough problems remaining focussed on the here and now. Me? I was only experimented on by a mad scientist, who tried to turn me into the ‘perfect’ assassin, and when I finally escaped, my entire family barred their doors because I was dead to them."

Sara nodded, chuckling as she listened to the rant. "Yeah, you win the award for personal roughness, but I don’t think you were forced to go through surgery that indentured you to a mega-corporation with no redeeming morals, which, as payment for its intervention, required you to do things such as assassinate entire families, just to keep a competitive edge. Also, I doubt you’ve participated in a slaving operation, nor have you seen the only people you care about brutally murdered right in front of you, with you being unable to do anything."

Sara looked into Stryk’s eyes, and sighed. "Look, I’m sorry about dumping on you, and maybe this is going too far, but I’m hoping we could compare life stories someday. Now, before you rip my head off, can I call you Erin?"

Stryk sat bolt upright and glared at Sara. "How the hell did you know?"

Sara grinned, pointing at the side of her head. "I knew when I first saw you as Stryk. After all, the day before I talked to you when you were Erin, and I picked up a lot of details. First, the hair. The only difference is that as Erin, you sweep your hair forwards to hide your implants. Second, body language. Even though you’re less assertive as Erin, not to mention less foul mouthed, it’s pretty easy to see through the act, especially if you have my experience with assumed identities. Third, and this is what confirmed it, when you’re running around during the night, you really need to keep the cash you collected in the day hidden in areas other than half out of your back pocket."

Stryk, blushing furiously, looked at Sara and nodded. "All right. You win. You can call me Erin anytime, so long as we’re alone."

Sara stood up, walking over to the stud that allowed her to access her basement room. "Now that I’ve opened up a can of worms by probing your true identity, I think you should have the opportunity to take a look at one of my old ones."

Sara pushed the switch in, mentally suppressing a shudder as she saw the dim stain around where she had hurt herself last night. Erin looked on as the panel in the floor slid aside, wondering what the hell was going on, but she followed anyhow as Sara dropped into the hole. Looking around inside the dim room, Stryk saw the sword rack, holding only the dozen throwing knives, and whistled as she tested the edge of one of the knives on the end of her thumb, accidentally slicing her thumbtip open.

"Be careful with the knives there. About half of them are loaded with a nasty little venom that shuts down a person’s motor controls for a few hours." Sara turned back to the weapons on the table, inspecting each one in turn. Erin turned and looked at what Sara was fiddling with, absently sucking on the end of her thumb to keep the dripping to a minimum. On the table, She noticed the sword and dagger first, as both had been unsheathed and lay on the table, gleaming in the soft light from the row of fixtures above them.

"Wow. Are those weapons real? I mean, it’s difficult enough to find a decent set of throwing knives, but a dagger that long, much less a sword? I’d have a better chance of swimming the English Channel in five minutes than of managing to get a weapon like that."

Sara chuckled as she used a cloth to wipe the edge of the sword with a light oil. "You’d have better luck of surviving atmospheric reentry in your street clothes than of getting your hands on these weapons. Both of them are unique, and I was specifically charged to keep the sword under control. After all, if you look in any book about ancient weapons, you’ll find at least one entry about the Black Blade of Carthage."

Erin just looked blank, not knowing what Sara meant. The next thing she noticed was the faded newspaper articles that were heaped on one side of the table, and the cape that had been draped over the shoulders of what looked like a mannequin. A closer look at the cape revealed that the shoulder pauldrons were covered in spikes, most of which were over four inches long, and exceedingly sharp. "So, what’s with the dungeon? Any twisted fetishes?"

Sara laughed. "You would wish, wouldn’t you. Actually, this is where I keep a lot of my equipment from my travels, as well as from a past life."

Stryk walked over to the pile of articles, flipping through the heap. One article caused her some amusement, as it was obviously pulled from a tabloid. The tabloid article was virtually screaming ‘Killer of Child Porn King a Sword Wielding Ghost? Testimony Inside!" Stryk snorted at the article, which was mainly sensationalist fluff, then turned back to Sara. Sara had changed in the few seconds that Erin had taken to look at the article, and most of it was her apparent clothing. Sara’s body was totally covered by a layer of purplish-black scales, and whatever it was clung to her body like a second skin. The material even covered Sara’s face, leaving her eyes and hair untouched, but covering everything else.

Erin looked at Sara, and noticed that there was a glimmer of red light at the base of Sara’s neck. Curious, she reached out and touched the source of the glimmer, a thumb-sized red stone that seemed to be implanted into the armour. "How the hell did this happen? What the hell is this stuff? Is it a symbiote or something like that?"

Sara shook her head. As she started to speak, the armour rippled away from her mouth, leaving the lower third of her face exposed. "Nope, this isn’t a symbiote. Those only exist in science fiction novels, and comic books. This is a suit of trained metal combat armour. Don’t ask me how it works, as I have no fucking clue. However, I control it through a subvocal mike, which I had installed into the pendant I always wear."

Sara then muttered something, and her armour rippled away from her arms, legs and face, contracting into a dark purple leotard, which then shrunk down to the loose-fitting purple belt Erin had seen Sara wearing earlier. "Now, I may as well tell you what I’m good at, what I’m bad at, and what my armour can do."

Sara climbed up out of the basement room, followed quickly by Erin. The two sat down on the couch, and Sara picked up the continuation in the Battle Angel series, which she hadn’t finished reading. "Okay, my armour’s the first on the list. It allows me to jump about fifteen metres with ease, and with a running start I can easily hit forty or more on a horizontal leap. That includes using my cape as a parachute for added hang time. Not bad huh?"

Erin grinned, wiggling her hand in the universal gesture for ‘so-so’. Sara chuckled in response. "Fine. Anyhow, it also enhances my strength. I think at my peak I could bend a two-inch thick steel beam into a pretzel, and dent an I-beam pretty badly. Now, I’d be lucky if I could dent a two-inch beam."

Erin looked at Sara, shook her head and grimaced. "Geez. And I can barely lift fifty pounds over my head. That thing makes you superhuman."

Sara laughed. "Hardly. I can laugh off fifty-cal bullets like I was wearing a spectra bodysuit, but they still hurt like a bitch when they hit me. Of course, I live in fear of rocket-propelled grenades and hand-held missiles, but everyone does."

Erin laughed. "You could’ve fooled me, considering the fact that you systematically cut to pieces that group loaded with rocket launchers."

Sara touched the end of her nose, smiling mysteriously. "No, that was because I had a pair of Desert Eagles loaded with Spartan bullets."

Erin’s response was quick and to the point. "So? I’d still be afraid of being creamed by a rocket, even if I had guns loaded with that ammo. Besides, I thought the military is the only one allowed to get their bloody mitts on that stuff. From what I’ve heard, that stuff is designed to fragment on penetration and leave a bloody hole through someone the size of a softball."

"It won’t go through someone, but it will carve up their internals pretty badly. I had to observe an autopsy on one person who had been hammered by a half dozen of the bullets, and when they opened him up, his internals pretty much splashed all over the table."

Erin shuddered at the description, letting the mental image course through her for a moment. "God, that’s sick! And people still shoot each other up with that stuff?"

"Yep. Just so you know, I’m pretty decent with my handguns, so long as I have time to aim, but when I’m using my grandfather’s cannon, my accuracy drops to about a one in three hit ratio."

"The cannon is that big monster gun you threatened that techno with a while ago, right? I wonder what happened to her?"

Sara grinned. "Hopefully, she survived. I want a rematch, and I’d happily make sure she doesn’t live to regret her mistake the second time through. Oh yes. My last two things. As you saw down there, I have several knives, a sword, and a few stacks of fairly unique cards. I’m fairly decent with the sword, though I don’t like using it, as I have a tendency to lose control of it, but I’m pretty good with knife-fighting. The cards are a special case, as they’re more for traps than anything else. After all, wouldn’t you want to make sure someone doesn’t attack you without softening him up first?"

Erin nodded, then spoke. "Okay, you seem to have more than a few secrets hidden in your pockets, but I won’t pry too much. Now, I may as well wander off before anything bad happens, but I think that I’ll return in a couple of days. I’ll talk to you at school, deal?" Sara nodded, and after Erin changed to the clothes she had arrived in, she was ushered out the back door. Erin grinned at Sara, waved quickly, and jumped over to the roof of the third house to the south. Sara went back into her house, and after looking at the books on the table, and at the clock, which was telling her that it was almost two in the afternoon, she decided to go to a club.

Sara drove to a club she had seen when she had first gone to the school, and after going through her usual routine of making sure no damage would be incurred to her bike, she walked inside the medium-sized building.

Two seconds later, and Sara was nearly knocked over by six teen boys heading towards a table, already surrounded by what looked like every member of the teenage male population in the city. Sara, very curious about the situation, walked over to the edge of the crowd, and simply shoved her way through to the inner ring. Looking down slightly, she saw four girls playing poker, of which one was really cleaning up against the other three. Smiling slightly, Sara watched as a girl went too far, lost the remaining chips in her pile, and was forced to drop out. Before anyone could object, Sara dropped into the recently vacated seat, and just as the dealer started to complain, Sara flashed several bills of large denominations into her face.

"Alright, you can play. Starting ante is reset to five." Sara quickly converted six hundred dollars into chips, and smiled at the hefty bonus due to the exchange rate, leaving her with a stack of chips outstripped only by the serious competitor. The girl, who was stacking her chips, smiled slightly and looked nervous.

Sara knew that it was an act, evidenced by the large stack of chips that was methodically being stacked, split apart and re-stacked."Okay, let’s get this show on the road." Sara muttered under her breath as she was dealt her first hand. Looking at the hand, she was surprised to notice that she already had three of a kind, and could probably coast to a fair win on that alone. After putting in the required ante, Sara let the betting commence, and noticed that the losers were both betting very aggressively, while her primary competitor was betting more cautiously.

Within twenty minutes and five hands, the two aggressive betters were down to only a few chips probably having about one hundred worth between the two, while Sara and the other girl had increased their stacks to an array that was almost obscene.

Sara grinned as she let one of the losing girls deal, smiling like a cat that had just found itself in the canary cage. Without even looking at her hand, she tossed in a fifty chip and cocked her head to the side. The other three girls shuddered, but their greed overruled their caution and all three called Sara’s bet. Sara nodded, raising the bet another hundred worth, and watched as the two aggressive betters cleaned out their stacks to call the bet. Sara’s true competitor, the girl sitting across from her, also called the bet, but shuddered in fear when Sara threw in a two-hundred chip into the pile.

Sighing, all three folded their hands, letting Sara collect her win. "Good choice."

Sara slowly flipped her hand over one card at a time, revealing the Ten, Jack, Queen, King and Ace of Spades. The entire group around the table gasped in horror as Sara added four hundred and sixty five worth to her pile, and then flipped over her adversary’s hand. A full house, Aces and Kings stared up at the crowd, mocking the two losers as they stood up and walked away from the table.

Sara looked at her lone competition and smiled, forestalling any new members. "Good game so far. Now, I’m beginning to get bored, and we’re both too cautious to make the rest of this game entertaining. Now, here’s my proposal. All the chips, one hand of blackjack, no hits. What do you say?"

The girl nodded, and shoved her entire stack into the centre of the table. Sara did the same, noticing that the table was beginning to creak and groan from the strain over having over five thousand worth of chips sitting in the middle of it.

Sara dealt the cards, and looked at the three she had collected. *Huh. An eight, a seven, and a six. Bing. There’s twenty-one, and I don’t even need the money. Fuck it. I’ll just fold.* Sara nodded at the girl, so the younger person put her cards down first. *two fours and a five? That’s no contest.*

Sara smiled, put her hand face down on the table, and slowly pushed the pile of chips over to the girl’s side. "You win. Have a good day."

Sara then got up, and slowly walked over to the bar on the opposite side of the room, near where an unoccupied keyboard beckoned for someone to play it. Sitting on a stool at the bar, Sara ordered a Coke, and when the bartender glared at her, she pulled out a twenty, which foreclosed on any argument. The drink was served loaded with ice, and Sara nodded at the tender to keep the bill she had waved at him. He took the hint and left her alone until she wanted something.

Soon, the girl sat down beside her, pack now bulging with bills, almost entirely of small denomination. "So, why’d you do that? I thought only desperate people played cards."

Sara shrugged. "Or bored people. What am I going to do with a few thousand extra? Hell, I have enough money to keep a comfortable lifestyle for myself that’ll last me almost twenty years. So, now that you’re in a bit of light, lemme look at you for a sec."

Sara half-turned in her seat, glanced at the girl, and grinned. "Well, I’m not that surprised that you’re here Hazel. So didja have fun?"

Hazel nodded, then ordered a Coke as well. "Y’know, when I turned over your cards, everyone saw you had me beat, and a few thought I should give you all the cash."

Sara frowned, and took a few sips from her Coke. "Bullshit. You won fairly, and if they give you any crap I’d happily clock one or two. Despite the fact that I gave up, you played a good hand, and only lost through bad luck. Now, how’s your homework?"

Hazel smiled, then shook her head. "In your class or in others? Lemme see, you haven’t given us any work yet, except for the usual writing in class. For all the others? Well, I don’t do my work anyhow, so it doesn’t matter."

Sara shrugged, sipping at her drink. "Fine. It’s your future kid."

Hazel shrugged, disregarding Sara’s statement. "And? It’s not like I need the education. I know what I need to, and it’s not like I’m going to need much else."

Sara sighed, then stood up and walked over to the keyboard. Looking at the bartender, Sara grinned, cracked her knuckles, and gently ran her fingers over the keys. The resulting melody was at once sad, yet fulfilled, as if it had some purpose that had been completed. Sara sat down on the musician’s bench behind the board, and after tapping the microphone to make sure it was live, she started to play a song she had written a long time ago.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Angel’s Descension"

The crowd instantly shut up as Sara’s fingers flew across the keyboard, modulating the tune as she remembered all the sadness and heartbreak she had poured into the short tune when she had written it six years ago.

"In the dark I’ll see you, like an Angel..."

"No matter how you try, like an Angel..."

"You’ve nowhere to run and nowhere to hide!"

The tune, slowed down to almost half tempo, seemed to weep for the losses each listener had gone through. However, as it picked up, it changed into something that seemed almost to be upbeat.

"Angel’s Descension, your time is nigh!"

"Angel’s Descension, your soul is mine!"

"Always mine..."

Sara lost herself in the tune, seemingly detached from her body as she sang, letting her contralto voice darken as the song revealed its soul to the audience.

"You try to claw"

"You try to fight"

"but on I come, moving through the night"

The tune paused, silencing the entire room for almost five seconds, and just as one person in the back opened his mouth, it continued, surrounding and penetrating the crowd in its haunting melody.

"My wings enfold"

"Your shivering form"

"And as you sleep"

"I’ll take you home!"

Sara used the keyboard to its utmost, fingers flying over the board as she pushed the limits of the machine’s tempo, speeding up into a virtual frenzy until it climaxed in a blast of heartrending sound.

"Your soul is mine! Always mine..."

As Sara finished the song, two floodlights near the floor turned on, bathing her in light and throwing twin shadows against the far wall. As the last chords died away, the audience stood, staring at Sara as her shadows seemed to resolve itself as a pair of black wings that flickered and died as the two lamps overheated and shut down.

In the sudden appearance of the shadow, Sara stood up, partially blinded by the momentary flash of light, and walked slowly over to the bar. Blinking furiously, Sara found some help from Hazel, who had stayed and watched the entire performance. "Wow. I never knew that anyone could do that so well."

Sara grinned, blinking furiously to clear some lingering spots from her eyes. "See? That’s what you’re missing if you decide to avoid getting an education."

Sitting down at the stool she had so recently vacated, Sara looked at the bartender, smiled, and tapped the empty glass next to her. The bartender, catching Sara’s meaning, refilled the glass, waving away the offered bill. "It’s on the house. I’ve never heard a song like that, and you’re damn good at playing that clunker of a board. Where did you learn to play?"

Sara grinned. "I didn’t. That was the first time I touched a keyboard, and only the second time I tried singing."

The response from those who heard her was a collective "Whaaattt? No Way!" from about twenty people.

As Sara looked around at the uproar, She grinned and decided to leave before she was mobbed for song requests, and the choice was a good one, as several people began a chant for more just as Sara slipped out of the front door.

Outside, she was surprised by two people. Hazel grinned at her from her right side, but a strange man stood on her left. "What? If this is a prelude to a mugging, I’ll make sure both of you regret it for a long time."

Hazel laughed, grabbing onto Sara’s right arm. "No silly! This guy’s a bit of a friend. He’s a reporter for The Independent, namely the arts and music section. He’d like to ask you a few questions, especially about that wicked-ass song you just sang in there."

Sara smiled, blushing slightly, but shook her head. "I’m sorry, but I won’t answer any questions. However, I’ll visit every Saturday, and I’ll sing too. Put that in your article if you want to, but I prefer word of mouth."

Hazel’s reaction was one of shock, indignation, and personal outrage. "Hey! What do you mean, ‘I won’t answer any questions’? What the hell is wrong with you? If I were you, I’d take the chance in a heartbeat!"

Sara turned towards Hazel, her eyes darkening like storm clouds. "And that is the difference between the two of us. I don’t need the money, I have no need for popularity, and I especially don’t need to turn myself into a musical sensation just because I’ve never touched any musical instrument before tonight. Now, if you’ll excuse me."

The last statement was so cold, Hazel let go of Sara’s arm, wondering if she should get treated for frostbite. Watching Sara deactivate her bike’s defensive system, then drive away, hazel grimaced and turned to the reporter. "Geez, what got into her? It’s not like an opportunity like this gets dropped into your lap every day, y’know."

The reporter shrugged and scratched his head. "I don’t know. Seems she just wants to sing for the pleasure of it. From the way she acted, it’s like she wants to keep complete control over everything she does. Well, I’ll be here next Saturday, so maybe I’ll be able to hear her sing."

Hazel still looked dejected, so, sighing under his breath, the reporter steered her into the club for a drink.

Sara drove north to the warehouse district, deciding unilaterally to check out the rendezvous point for the meeting tomorrow night. After dredging the building number out of her memory, Sara went over to where the sheet-metal structure stood, and moving quietly, she watched through a window as several large men moved around several of the crates inside the building, making a makeshift clear area in the middle of the cavernous building.

Pausing to glance at her watch as she memorized the layout of the inside of the building, Sara realized that it was getting late, and that she should get home in time to watch the late news. Going back to her bike, Sara noticed another scorch mark, this time looking like the person had jumped onto the bike’s seat from a few feet away, and been knocked right back onto his butt as a result of the voltage that had probably left several first degree burns across his ass.

Chuckling, Sara drove back to her home, feeling better about making sure of the prospects tomorrow, and occasionally making sure to twist her course a bit in order to avoid any possible tails that she might have picked up. Eventually, she arrived at her house, and after parking her bike in the garage, Sara walked over to her front door and found a note that had been put into her mailbox, as well as a request for a subscription to The Independent, which, from what she had heard was a fairly reputable newspaper.

Entering her home, Sara kicked her boots off, humming the tune she had played less than two hours ago. Flopping into her favoured chair, she turned on her laptop, and, while waiting for the computer to finish booting up, she read the note.

The note was from Dr. Zack, and asked her to either send a message to him through his E-mail address, which was thoughtfully added to the bottom of the short note, or to visit him after eight PM. Nodding to herself, Sara sighed and reread the note, hunting for any extra meanings. Finding none, she then logged onto her own E-mail program.

After wading through several hundred junk messages, Sarah had whittled the size of her inbox down to only fifteen messages, none of which had any impact on the meeting at midnight tomorrow. Sara read all of the messages, laughing at one from Erin, which basically said ‘I told you I hunt for security holes. There’s one the size of a pinhead in yours, so I’m giving you top marks. First time I had to spend more time hacking a firewall than actually hacking a hard drive.’

Sara noticed one from her previous doctor, which she immediately replied to as it inquired about her supplies of protein supplements, and then checked a new message that popped up right before she was about to shut down her connection. Looking at the header, Sara felt a pang of worry, as she read the short message almost ten times before sighing and holding her head in her hands. "Dammit! Why does everything have to go wrong for me? I only wanted to live a normal, peaceful life, and I was just about to. Hell, even a popstar has more privacy than I did four years ago, and this is just adding insult to injury."
 
 

Sighing to herself, Sara put the computer into its carrying case, deciding to take the small computer over to Dr. Zack’s house so he could see the E-mail that had distressed her so much. "Maybe he can make more sense out of it than I can. After all, I’m only human, and only know so much about nanotechnology."

Standing up, and getting her boots back on, Sara walked out of her house, locking the door behind her, and then walked south three houses. Looking up at the foreboding visage of the walled building, Sara steeled herself for another conversation with the odd doctor, and pressed a buzzer that was situated on the outside gate.

The gate opened soon after, and Sara walked along the neatly maintained path until she ended up at the door to the not-very humble abode of Dr. Zack. Knocking on the door, Sara felt something odd, and running her fingers over the door, she grinned. Though painted to look like weathered oak, as was the rest of the house, up close the door was hardened steel, and, by Sara’s guess, could probably withstand a concentrated volley from her cannon before breaking.

A few moments later, she found herself face-to-collar with the esteemed Dr. Zack. "Good evening doctor. I got your message about twenty minutes ago, and wanted to clear my other messages first. So, may I come in?"

Sara waited quietly as Dr. Zack arranged his thoughts, as she seemed to have thrown them for a loop, occasionally tapping one of her fingers on her thigh. "Well, It seems that we won’t get anything done on the front stoop, so please, come inside. I apologise for the delay in the invite, but I was thinking of a chemical theorem that I wanted to put on paper soon."

Sara nodded, smiling slightly and entered the main foyer of Zack’s house. Looking around, she instantly noticed that the foyer looked slightly utilitarian, but she followed Dr. Zack upstairs after he beckoned her to follow him. Sara went up the short slight of stairs to the living room, studying almost everything she saw with her usual negligent intensity.

When she arrived in the living room however, Sara saw that one of the three chairs was occupied, and by a close friend to boot. "Well, how are you this fine day Six? You seem to be a lot healthier than when I first saw you."

Sara smiled, and offered her hand to her friend. Leaning closer, Sara whispered "How’s your leg? Acting up any?" Six smiled, shook her head, and nodded towards the empty chair to her left. Sara accepted the invitation, and sat down, putting the carrying case for her laptop down beside her.

Dr. Zack had also sat down in a large armchair across from her, and was stoking a pipe that looked like it was older than her. "So, care to tell me why you left me a note asking me to either E-mail you or visit you in person? After all, here I am."

Sara leaned forwards slightly, resting her elbows on her knees as she looked at Zack. Six grinned and leaned back somewhat, content to play watchful observer as she noticed that Sara seemed to be more colourful than her usual shade of exhausted pale. Dr. Zack finished tamping some tobacco into the bowl of his pipe, lit it, and then turned his attention to Sara. "Well, Miss D’Arnise, I said that I had analysed your blood, and have found something quite unnerving. Apparently, the nanomachinery in your bloodstream have enhanced themselves through several generations, each time making themselves better-suited to their pre-programmed functions."

Sara nodded, looking at Six as her friend also leaned in to listen. "Well, I think that I figured that out a while ago. By the way, call me Sara. I hate it when people call me by my last name. Makes me sound like some landed noble from Europe."

Dr. Zack chuckled, then took a pull from his pipe, wreathing his head in a thin halo of smoke. "From what I gathered, the original program for your nanomachines was to repair the damage done to your remaining osteocytes by the viral infection you’ve been suffering from. However, your current nanotech program can be separated into a few pieces."

Sara looked up from where she had been contemplating a picture on the coffee table, suddenly paying complete attention to her host. "The program works like this; the base program is unchanged, and seems to take the highest precedence. However, there are several subprograms. The first one of those is to repair any cellular damage, up to and including gunshot wounds or worse, not to mention recreating viable red blood cells to assist in replacing those that have died off naturally or been lost through injuries."

Sara smiled, interjecting. "I nominate the ‘or worse’. I once saw an original test subject regenerate an entire limb over the course of two weeks."

Dr. Zack, obviously surprised, nearly aspirated his pipe. Coughing, he looked at Sara, wondering what else she had seen. "Umm, that’s a bit more information than what was really needed, but it does show that there is no plausible limit to those little repairers, so long as they have the correct materials to recreate new cellular materials. Anyhow, as I was saying. The second program seems to be an upgrade loop. Each successive generation of ‘fixers’ is upgraded depending on the limits of the previous generation. For example, the first generation of ‘fixers’ had limited mobility, so they could not satisfactorily complete the first sub-program. However, the second generation of ‘fixers’ had an increased mobility, made only more powerful by the addition of more manipulative appendages to the base platform of the machine."

Sara, having lost Dr. Zack halfway through his explanation, just nodded, trying to absorb everything as it came. "Now, I actually managed to pull the original specs of what your nanotech looked like off the ‘net, and I have an image of the current ones in your blood. Let me show you the difference."

Dr. Zack got up, still puffing away on his pipe, and picked up a computer disk that had been placed on a nearby countertop as Sara pulled out her laptop. She booted up the machine, waiting the minute or two for it to finally get ready, and then put the disk into the requisite drive. A minute later, Sara activated the two images, which popped up onto the screen side by side. Sara examined the differences between the two images, unsurprised that there were too many to count as she eventually gave up on the two pictures.

The original machine was not much more than a pyramidal framework, with a set of manipulative limbs at each apex, and a small thruster to move around with. However, the more advanced model, while retaining the pyramidal shape, was completely enclosed, had multiple thrusters at differing angles, and had many more manipulative appendages. Sara’s response was eventual, but easily predictable. "Good god! I’m surprised that those things haven’t had any programming glitches yet. Could you tell me what the side effects of the enhanced systems are?"

Dr. Zack nodded as Sara activated her E-mail program, selecting the message that had worried her so much beforehand as she listened to Dr. Zack. "Well, apparently, you’ll suffer from limited cellular decay, thereby slowing your aging process. Also, you’ll have less need for blood transfusions due to the afore-mentioned cellular repair having extended to encompass your red cells."

Sara nodded, thinking about the message as she read it, finally understanding the deeper implications within it. "My god. Dr. Zack, Six, you might want to look at this."

Sara turned the laptop around to show to Dr. Zack, and let Six crowd her slightly as both people read the message.

Both Six and Dr. Zack looked at each attached image, grimacing as they saw how the unfortunate victim had literally been reduced to not much more than a skeleton. They then looked at the attached scan of the final form of the corrupted nanomachinery, and all three breathed a sigh of relief when they saw the blatant differences between Sara’s current nanomachines and the corrupted ones.

Dr. Zack sat back down in his seat, and rubbing his forehead, he sighed. "Amazing, yet also disturbing. I cannot believe what a close call we have on our hands. You, my young friend, could be considered the only organic weapon of mass destruction in the world. I do not envy you."

Sara nodded, still staring at the three images on her computer screen. "I wouldn’t want to be envied anyhow. Religious zealots would be calling for my head if they found out that I can virtually live to about as long as I want because of what was done to save my life in the first place."

Dr. Zack chewed on the stem of his pipe for a few seconds, and then spoke again. "Well, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring up that subject again. However, I would like copies of all your research, as, combined with my own, we might just be able to come up with something that will allow you to live a life without fearing constant death."

Sara nodded, then looked at her hands. "I’ve had these machines in me for the last seven and a half years. They’ve kept me youthful, energetic, and able to walk without risking telescoping my spine into a foot long pole of mush. However, I don’t think It’s worth the risk of putting my friends under the spectre of death, especially as I don’t know what will happen at any time in the near future. Doctor?"

Dr. Zack looked up at Sara, who had walked over to the window that overlooked a small balcony. "Yes? What would you like?"

Sara looked like she was going to cry, and Six stood up, moving to Sara’s side to reassure the distraught woman. "If you ever see my nanotechnology change into anything like the corrupt version you see on my computer, you have permission to shoot me dead and burn my body until there’s nothing left. I ask this as a favour, not for me, but for the innocents of the city."

Dr. Zack was shocked beyond outrage. "What? Young lady, sit down immediately! I will not allow you to speak of such things in my house, nor will I ever do such a thing. I value your life and well being as much as anyone else’s, but do not ask me to shoot you. Hopefully, with our combined efforts, we will be able to create a program to cancel out the risk of such an effect, but it will take time, effort, and a lot of good luck. Now, if I’m right, you won’t have anything to worry about for at least another seven months, as that’s when your next upgrade seems to be scheduled."

Dr. Zack was positively livid, and his face was a shade of dark red that Sara had only seen on a side of barely-cooked beef before. "Honestly, I wonder about the morals of the people who produced your nanomachines, and am appalled at the risk they have run by literally taking a chance on you, and the world to boot."

Dr. Zack sighed and shook his head, puffing away on his pipe. "Now, from what that message said, I can guess that your nanomachines have three overriding programs. Program 1: repair any damage done to you on a cellular level. I think that one is working well."

Sara, having sat down in the chair she had been offered when she had first arrived, was busy turning off her computer, so she just nodded.

"Program 2: Upgrade to be more efficient and capable of repairing more complex damage. I think that program is also working, though how well, and how often is something that only the original programmer knows."

Looking at CyberSix, Sara sighed, then put the laptop into her carrying case.

"And program 3: Ensure the continued survival of the host. Now, as far as I can tell, that one’s working, but it would probably take a life-or death scenario in order to be activated, and I don’t think you want to try anything like that out just for scientific curiosity."

Sara looked at Dr. Zack, who was now chewing worriedly on the stem of his pipe. "How do you know that the first two programs work? After all, for all we know, the corruption could be in either one of those."

Dr. Zack smiled slightly, taking another puff on his pipe, but finding that it had gone out during his conversation. Relighting it, he then continued. "Well, if the first program had failed, you’d be dead. No ifs, ands, or buts. As you said, your spine would be not much more than a foot of mush, and the rest of your natural bones wouldn’t be much better off."

Sara nodded, stretching, and feeling her decidedly solid bones pop, one at a time. "If the second program had failed, you’d still have the primitive ‘base’ machines instead of the highly advanced ones that you do have, but there’s a question mark floating over it. After all, if you’re unlucky enough to get the wrong upgrade, we could all be dead before we have our next conversation."

Sara shuddered, standing up and hugging herself. "I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’ll talk to you later, and I’ll give you the information you wanted, Dr. Zack, but right now, I just feel closed in."

Even before Dr. Zack had given her an answer, Sara had quickly walked downstairs and out, leaving the townhouse. Once outside, Sara took several deep breaths of the cool night air, but it didn’t help. She walked back to her house, unlocked the door, closing and locking it after her, and removed her boots and coat. Then, going upstairs, her eyes fell upon the carrying case which she had left at the base of the stairs.

Sitting there, mocking her, and everything she believed in, was the information that she could completely destroy the world through a trick of fate. Dashing into her room, and slamming the door closed, Sara flung herself onto her bed and cried herself to sleep.

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