Gabriel Santiago sits at his desk, counting money from his latest scam, the dust from his dingy apartment faintly glimmering in the dim light. Suddenly a knock on the door. Gabriel wonders who it is. He grabs his plasma pistol, praying he cleaned up the loose ends from that last steal. It turned out to be a False Lead. Disappointing, but still profitable. Creeping up to the door, he looks through the peephole. The last thing he saw was the Weyland logo, stained red.
Another time.....
Elizabeth Mills loved fireworks. She sat at her desk, sipping authentic New Angeles Ground from a dainty cup. her whole meal probably cost more than some people's hoppers. Still, a woman has to eat. The window was Plexitek. Perfect view, but not even the most destructive terrorist attack could leave so much as a mark. Not since the war. She checked her watch, then swiveled in her chair so she could see all of Sansan. The fireworks were about to start.
Yet another time....
Jerome Locke grinned at his workstation. He loved his job. As a tech at the Space Elevator Authority, his job was make sure confidential files didn't land in runner hands. He loved the control it gave him. So when he heard the distinct Meep-Meep of a successful trace, he gave himself a little pat on the back. Some fool had just accessed one of their Ghost Servers. The SnareX program probably got them. The poor sap would be raked for hours. On his workstation popped up the credentials. Ji Riley. Known Cyber-terrorist. He was one of those Anarch sum. They were the worst of the runners. He lived on 861 Silverfeld Lane. Good. Locke felt himself smirk as he put in a call to Tactical. "Hello Miss Mills. Yes ma'am. We've got him."
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