A Night to Remember

[Several hours later - Kennedy & Duzois]

A radio downstairs was playing Health's 'Major Crimes', the sounds permeating the space and bouncing off the walls. Chelle took one last look at herself, allowing her hands to fall by her side as she tried to slim her form under the skintight black dress. It had a plunging V-shaped neckline leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Not that she didn't like it, but she wasn't used to seeing herself this done up. The dress itself was a present from Joe... a promise of a night on the town after this case was done. At least she'd have a chance to wear it for him, in a way. For 40 years old, she had to admire how good she actually looked, as she cut to the side, arching her back and taking it all in. Her hair was styled, hanging lush over her shoulder as it bounced defiantly at the ends. It was a veritable lion's mane, and it wouldn't be tamed so easily. Finally, with one last glance, her eyes cut back to the mirror as she lightly arched her head back, admiring the line of her neck, her black eye makeup, and the deep red shade adorning her lips.

Her impromptu fashion show was cut short by Miz whistling to her from the stairs as she approached, "Damn, choomba... I... damn..."

Chelle blushed as she looked down with a smile and turned to face Miz, finding Billy not far behind... go figure. She'd heard Pops refer to him as the Pup a few times already, and it fit. He was never more than a few paces off Miz's heels, and every time their eyes met, he lit up like a firecracker. Young love was a hell of a thing, and she hoped theirs would go the distance. Still, to Miz's point, even Billy gave a sincere thumbs up and said, "You look fantastic, really."

Miz stood squarely in front, holding up a shard as she asked, "Look up and to the left?"

The older woman obliged, feeling the shard slotted behind her right ear as her HUD lit up. Miz continued, "Biomon and tracking shard. Lets us track your movements and vital signs, so you're never out of our sight, and we'll know if something's up."

Billy quipped with a smirk, "They did the same to me for my first gig..."

"Stop talkin', Tiger...", Miz chuckled as her eyes cut to him. There was so much warmth between everyone here, Chelle took a chance and hugged Miz tightly as she said softly, "T-Thank you... f-for everything..."

Miz returned the hug as she comforted her friend, "Hey, Joe was one of us. There's no way we're sitting this one out."

As they pulled apart, Pops' voice trailed in from the stairs coming up, "We're all set down there, Delamain just pulled up... how's it coming up he— DAMN..."

He was caught dead in his tracks as his eyes widened, causing Chelle to blush again as she flipped her hair to the side and placed a hand on her hip with a chuckle, "You all sure know how to make a girl feel good..."

Pops' cheeks were flushed as he looked down with a smirk before pulling himself together, "Your chariot awaits... ma'am."

Chelle nodded as she grabbed a small clutch purse and followed the rest of the crew down. It was now or never...

--

[Thirty minutes later - Au Cabanon, Lele Street, Charter Hill]

For as dirty as Night City was in some parts, very little of that ever seemed to reach the opulent subdistrict of Charter Hill. Nestled in the foothills of North Oak, but still very much part of the high-rise urban sprawl endemic to the City at large, Charter Hill was where the movers and shakers, legitimate or otherwise, came to play. Fine dining, exclusive clubs, even more exclusive casinos, there was an answer for all seven deadly sins to be found here, provided you could pay the price of admission.

Chelle was focused on nothing in particular as she gazed out the window of the Delamain cab traveling gingerly down Longshore Street. The car's radio was playing some type of smooth jazz, and as much as she personally didn't care for it, it did calm her nerves for what was to come. Streetlamps and neon signs passed by, the lights catching her eyes as she watched people traversing the sidewalks, just going about their lives. At any moment, this City could snatch the life right out of any one of them, and yet nobody seemed to care. So many lives lost over the years, and half of them didn't need to be. So much was lost to the churn of the city, and now her partner was a part of it...

She was snapped back to the present by a smooth voice in a British accent filling the cab's interior; the cab itself was actually speaking to her as a generated headshot of a bald male in a suit appeared in front of her face wearing a kind but detached smile, "We are arriving at your destination shortly, ma'am... I trust your trip with us this evening has been satisfactory?"

Her voice broke as she fought down the emotions swirling around inside, "Uh, y-yes... thank you."

"I sense emotional distress in your voice, ma'am", the disembodied voice continued, "Is there anything you wish to discuss? I am hardly a qualified professional, but my experiences tell me that even a keen ear can be a source of comfort for those in need."

Chelle smiled and answered as the cab made it's final turn from Pardey Street onto Lele Street, only a block from Au Cabanon, "Even if I wanted to, there's not enough hours in the day..."

"Very well, ma'am", the voice conceded as the cab pulled off and rolled to a gentle stop. The voice took on a more generic inflection, "We have arrived at your destination. We appreciate your patronage and welcome you to engage our services again in the future."

She nodded as the door opened on its own, and she carefully planted her feet on the sidewalk to exit before Delamain called out to her, the kindness returning, "And Ms. Diaz... we do hope that next time you will allow us to lend an ear for your troubles. Have a pleasant evening."

Chelle was genuinely caught off guard as she smiled, a tear forming in the corner of her eye as she said sincerely, "Thank you, Delamain..."

The door closed automatically as the cab waited for its turn before pulling back out into traffic. Chelle looked to her left, catching the crew's Chevillon passing by as it mingled with the other cars on the road. To an outsider, it was just another truck on the road.

The irony that an AI in a taxi cab possessed more compassion than half of Night City's population put together would never be lost on Chelle, and she took a deep breath in through her nose before exhaling, releasing what felt like a mountain of tension as the cool air washed over her and she walked forward along the sidewalk. There was definitely an appeal to this area of the City; the streets were actually clean, not just swept out of sight and out of mind. The lights seemed to sparkle a little bit brighter here, and were it not for the underlying pall of corpo greed ever-present behind the scenes, this could actually be a nice place to visit from time to time.

Still, even Charter Hill was not without its isms, as Chelle turned the corner and spotted an NCPD cruiser straddling the curb, two officers standing watch and surveying the surroundings. She was careful to turn away; not that she actually thought she'd be made, but the last thing she needed was to be outed as a former cop. Thankfully, nobody on the street level seemed remotely interested in the long-legged and beautiful woman walking the streets in a black dress.

The noises of people conversing and light music playing trailed out from the open-air bar. It sat comfortably on an overhead platform, nestled at the junction of walkways crossing over Lele and Wendt Streets, and it offered a surround view of the streets below. She could make out the dimmed overhead lights inside providing a calming ambiance; if not for the circumstances, it was enough to wash all the stress away as she carefully climbed the stairs leading up. She couldn't remember the last time she'd worn heels this high, and the last thing she wanted was to twist her ankle.

As she crossed the threshold, she immediately spotted her mark. John Dillon was more handsome in person then his holographic headshot gave him credit for. His back was to her as he conversed with a small group of patrons standing at the bar, all of them laughing and smiling. She passed by, excusing herself around the other patrons before giving a well-placed but subtle bump to Dillon's arm. She kept on walking, her casual saunter catching his eye as she walked directly to a lone seat by the end of the wrap-around bar. She spun around and gently took her seat as she placed the clutch in front of her on the counter top. She was careful to keep her head high, the line of her neck straight. Grace and elegance were the order of the evening.

As the bartender approached, Chelle allowed herself a glance over to Dillon, finding his eyes locked on her as he raised his glass to his mouth. She gave no response, cutting back to the bartender as he asked her order.

"O'Duggan, neat", she answered cordially, eliciting a raised eyebrow from the host as he went to work. Likely that was his easiest order for the evening. And it was Joe's preferred...

She flipped her hair to the side as she tried to inconspicuously shake the thought from her head; she needed to focus. With comedic timing, Miz spoke up in a holocall in her ear, "You're doin' great, babe. And you look amazing."

Chelle did her best not to crack a smile, "Yeah, ya keep telling me that... now stay off the wire. It's hard enough to focus as is."

She could hear Ky in the background, "Damn, I wish someone would talk to me like that..."

She quickly dropped the call before anyone yelled in her ear. She knew the crew well enough to know that Max was probably smacking him upside the head while Miz yelled something utterly reprehensible, and the mere notion was enough to almost make her break her composure. Thankfully, the bartender returned, placing a fancy glass down on the bar as he nodded. She returned the gesture, taking the opportunity to smile as her eyes flashed blue with a transfer of eddies.

She brought the glass to her mouth, taking a small sip. As familiar as ever, the single malt traveled down her throat with a slight burn, lighting up her insides with a warm feeling. She allowed herself another sideways glance, finding Dillon now trying not to stare directly at her, although his eyes kept cutting back every few seconds. She nonchalantly shrugged her eyebrows as she looked away, taking another sip with a smirk.

He was a handsome man. Her profiling acumen aged him at least in his early 40s. He was clean-cut and clean shaven, sporting a neat and coiffed haircut with both sides shaved up to the part. Both sides of his head had a thin cyberware thread leading back and down the sides of his neck, disappearing under a pressed white dress shirt accented with a black and blue vest. His arms sported the same thin threads, leading down to cuffs around his wrists, his sleeves rolled up almost to his elbows. She could only surmise the black suit jacket hanging over the stool next to him was his, as the subtle pattern matched his dress pants. He wore a pair of rimless glasses, likely only for show, as she couldn't remember the last time she'd met someone without even base-model Kiroshis. But they did give a distinguished frame to his face.

At long last, she felt a spike in her adrenaline as she caught him moving in her periphery. He politely excused himself from the group as he shuffled past, casually walking around the bar. It was a few seconds before he stopped two paces short and spoke in a smooth and catching voice, "It's not often I don't know a face around here... and yet I can't seem to place yours."

Chelle slowly turned to meet him as she fired back, "Something strange this way comes... not always a bad thing to see someone new."

His eyes narrowed with a smirk as he took a sip from his glass, "That is... poetic... may I?"

He motioned to the empty space at the bar next to her, and she crossed her right leg over the left, "The rest of the country might not be, but last I checked, this is still a free city."

Dillon laughed as he crossed a leg and leaned in against the bar, placing his drink down before he extended his hand, "I'm John."

She met him halfway in a delicate shake, "Chelle."

"Charmed", he paused as he admired the scent of her perfume, "Shell... so if I hold you up to my ear, will I hear the ocean?"

There was a swell in the music as Chelle leaned in and whispered, "If you keep that up, you can shuffle sand right back over to your friends..."

They shared a laugh as Dillon shrugged his eyebrows, "It was cheesy, I'll admit. You got me... so what brings you around here?"

As her smile subsided, she exhaled sharply, "Needed a break from work, you know how it is... boss running me ragged to pick up the pieces he left behind."

Ouch.

"Needed to blow off steam", he finished her thought, "I get it, I really do... so what do you do?"

Chelle glanced away, "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

"Well at least I'll die intrigued", Dillon smiled, "Okay, promise, that was my last shot."

"I've heard worse, but it's appreciated", she looked back to him, locking eyes as she chided gently, "It's just not what I'm looking for tonight."

He smiled again, sincerely, "Say the word and I'll leave you be."

Chelle returned the smile, "If only every other stranger who propositioned me in a bar was as understanding... sit."

The timbre of her voice caught him off guard, and he nearly crashed into the seat before situating himself as he took another sip, "So what are you looking for tonight?"

She tilted her head down as she locked eyes with him, "A distraction..."

"Well, I can't offer you a dartboard or a game of pool", he chuckled as he tested the waters and leaned in a little closer, "But I can offer you some magnificently mediocre company."

In this moment, Chelle was glad she'd dropped the call. She could already hear the grunts and groans of the crew fake-vomiting from the whole affair. She nodded in the direction of the group he had walked away from, "What about your friends?"

"Ah, they all have each other", Dillon dismissed the notion as he nodded to them, his eyes flashing orange, prompting a follow-up from Chelle, "I'd hate to keep you."

That's the security detail.

"And yet here we sit as I approached you", Dillon fired back. His 'friends' all nodded to him and to each other before turning to leave.

It was Chelle's turn to narrow her eyes, "And why is that?"

"Well, you walk so gracefully", Dillon exposed himself as a flush crept in his cheeks, "And I just had to apologize for getting in your way."

Bingo. He was hooked. Even through the light reflecting on his lenses, Chelle could see the spark in his eyes. She had him... now she only had to keep it up.

--

[One hour later]

Even undercover, Chelle and Joe both could have knocked anyone over with just how many heartfelt and sincere moments were shared. As the old saying goes, the most convincing lies are rooted in the truth. Even though it was all pretense, Chelle genuinely enjoyed the conversation over a second and a third drink, the last of which she nursed ever so carefully. She could feel the rosy warmth in her cheeks, and she'd slip up if she weren't careful. Dillon by this point was a little looser than he first appeared, and he knew it, but he maintained his gentlemanly composure as he tried to dismiss himself with some grace, "I think it's time I get home and out of here while I still have some pride left."

Chelle chuckled, "Home.. is it close by?"

He had a curious glance as he answered, "Just around the corner..."

Sell it, babe!, she could almost hear Miz screaming as her voice took on a silky smooth inflection, "...show me..."

"I thought this wasn't what you were looking for tonight", he joked.

Now or never!

Chelle placed one hand over his with the other hand gently on his leg as she leaned in and whispered right in his ear, "I said I was looking for a distraction, and you've given me that and more..."

She sealed the deal with a light nibble at his earlobe, sending the blood rushing anywhere but his brain as she felt his pants tighten. He fought to keep a straight face as he caved, "Shall we?"

The good thing about flash transfers for eddies is there was no awkward period of waiting for a tab, especially in a heated moment such as this, when time was of the essence. Tipsy as he was, Dillon remained ever the gentleman as he helped Chelle out of her seat and they left the bar together. The security detail was long since gone, and by now so were a good portion of the other patrons. An establishment such as this wasn't known for drawn-out benders into the wee hours of the morning like some of the dives dotted around the city's less affluent areas.

They walked arm-in-arm together down the stairs before turning right, Dillon pointing up at a high-rise building only a block away. He wasn't kidding in that his apartment was literally around the corner from his favorite watering hole. A brief interlude at the crosswalk, and they were on their way. Chelle took the opportunity to ping a quick message to the crew, thirty seconds, and as they stepped back onto the sidewalk, she stopped and pulled Dillon to her. She could hate herself later as she took her chance and pulled him in for a kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck as his hands closed around her back. He was still reserved, not pressing her too roughly, at least in public. She could feel his restraint as their tongues met and a warm breath was shared between them.

Finally, she pulled away, separating herself from him as her eyes slowly opened. As they stared at one another awkwardly for several seconds, she broke her silence, "I'm sorry, John..."

He cocked his head in confusion, "For wha—"

Before he could finish, a shock to the base of his skull lit him up like a Christmas tree, his eyes shuttering blue as he yelled out. When he could take no more, he slumped over, Billy appearing from behind and catching him with a bag over his head. Tires screeched as the Chevillon screamed to a halt in front of them, Max in the front passenger seat with a smirk and a receding red glow in her eyes. They wasted no time in throwing Dillon's unconscious body into the back of the truck, Pops reaching down to help Chelle as she ripped off her heels and hopped up. She took a seat next to Miz as Billy took the seat next to Pops, closing the tailgate doors as they peeled out onto the road.

Chelle exhaled sharply with relief as her shoulders sagged, like a weight had been lifted. She looked to each of the crew with a smile as she said, "Man, you guys are clean."

Ky was the first to answer, still stroking a stiff jaw as he muscled out, "Yeah... we do okay sometimes..."

Max looked out the window as she muttered not so quietly, "Enbesil..."

Miz took her chance as she nudged her choomba, "So... you two have fun?"

Chelle rolled her eyes, but gave no answer. Her eyes cut back to Dillon's body before she looked to Pops, "What now?"

"Stash 'im, grill 'im for what we need...", Pops answered as casually as possible as he stretched out on the bench. It was just that simple.

--

[Some time later - Sunset Motel, Red Peaks, Badlands]

As it turned out, several high-proof cocktails and a short circuit quickhack were the perfect recipe for the hangover from hell. As Dillon's eyes opened slowly, his vision coming into focus, he groaned softly as the pounding in his skull set in. He tried to shake himself awake, hearing a rattle of handcuffs behind him. He could feel a tightness across his chest as he looked down, finding himself bound to a chair in a dark room while a single floor lamp assaulted his eyes. In the shadows, he could make out several dark figures standing around him as he asked, "W-What the fuck is this...? W-Who the fuck are you...?"

Pops' voice rang out from one of the dark figures, "Concerned citizens..."

"W-What the fuck do you want?!", Dillon spat with another rattle of the handcuffs as he tried to jerk forward.

"Answers...", replied Pops as he stepped forward, his face coming into view as he pulled another chair over and sat down in front of Dillon, a wry smirk on his face.

In a moment of weakness, or sheer stupidity, Dillon's face saddened as he looked up to Pops, "W-Where's Chelle...?"

"Right here, ace", she called over from a corner of the room a wave, his eyes darting to the voice as she continued, "Rise and shine..."

His face contorted and his jaw clenched before he locked eyes with Pops again, his voice carrying a tone of defeat, "What do you want to know...?"

"Joe Miller...", Pops said bluntly without missing a beat. As soon as the name left his mouth, Dillon's face shifted into a look of grief, almost bordering on regret, and his eyes fell to the floor. Chelle's eyes narrowed as she watched him, every muscle, every move he made. He wasn't fucking around; he actually felt bad about it. After several seconds of contemplative silence he said, "...I-I'm sorry... he was a good man, as far as I could tell. I can't say I knew him well, but he was driven..."

"What happened?", Chelle asked as she leaned forward, the light catching the corner of her face. Dillon shook his head as she asked a follow-up question, "What was he doing for you?"

He shook his head again, "...n-no. I can't get wrapped up in this any further... i-if they got to him..."

Pops leaned forward, "Joe was my friend, and Chelle's partner of many years... we're all hurtin' right now, and if you ever want a chance to see the sun rise again, best get to talkin'..."

Dillon looked up, finding Pops holding his revolver pointed down, hammer cocked. His eyes widened as Chelle asked again, "What was he doing for you?"

"B-Boss running you ragged... t-to pick up the p-pieces he left behind...", Dillon stumbled over his own words with a nervous chuckle, "I-I had him t-tracking shipments of chems t-that had gone m-missing..."

"Why?", Pops asked, gauging for a response before he continued, "Materials go missin' all the time... corps are insured against those losses anyway, and that's not even your area..."

"The hell it's not!", Dillon fired back, "I'm going out on a limb here that you've already seen my sheet? You think you know everything about me?"

Pops smirked at the brass as he answered, "You're a chemist for Biotechnica... cookin' up whatever nastiness they come up with."

Dillon shook his head once again, "Not even close... I'm in charge of Quality Assurance. I make sure the chems aren't tainted, and if they are, we mark them as such and ship them off to be disposed... properly."

He took a deep breath as he continued, "About two years ago... we started noticing marked crates going missing in transit. Trucks were coming up short from what was on the manifests, and someone at the receiving end got wise, gave us the heads up."

Miz wandered forward from the shadows, her eyes wide as her mind churned and she muttered, "...two years ago..."

Dillon looked up, curious, as he squinted his eyes, "I-I know your face..."

Miz stopped dead in her tracks as Pops leaned forward again, "Mind tellin' us how?"

He looked down, scouring his own thoughts before the proverbial lightbulb clicked on and he shot back to lock eyes with Miz, "The Waterfront! You were the one... it was you, ripped out that ganger's face?!"

This caught everyone by surprise as he continued, "H-Holy shit! You're the crew that pulled off the 'Saka Waterfront job?!"

They didn't know whether to be flattered or worried, but they were all on edge. After the shock subsided, Dillon spoke again, "Y-You're exactly the people I should be talking to, then."

"So talk!", Chelle barked from the corner, the hair on everyone's necks standing up. Dillon laid it all out for them, "This entire clusterfuck has to do with compound SNDV-0327... s-sorry, on the street, you'd know it as Slo-Mo."

Again, the crew's eyes widened as Dillon kept going, "It was radically unreliable and unstable... we scrapped the entire project, but the chems were already in mass production. We marked them for disposal all the same, mixed them in with the other shipments, but they never made it to their destination... every missing crate so far is raw chems for SNDV-0327... and they have a notoriously short shelf life."

"Meanin' what, exactly?", Pops asked, genuinely intrigued.

"Meaning whatever's being cooked and sold on the streets is far and away from what we designed or intended...", Dillon scoffed at the whole affair, "Even in its purest and unadulterated form, SNDV was uncontrollable. Young men in their physical primes were dropping dead just during clinicals... imagine what happens when the raw compounds themselves start to break down? You really think Scavs are dumping eddies into proper facilities or controlled containment?"

He had a point, they all had to agree, but they couldn't lose sight of him sidestepping the question altogether as Miz brought him back on track, "This is a nice little history lesson and all, but none of it answers what you had Joe involved in..."

Dillon took a deep breath as he relaxed his shoulders and continued, "We had a what. The why is simple enough... money. What we didn't have was a who, when, or where, so I hired a private detective to chase down a few suspicions I had."

Chelle stood from her chair and approached, standing next to Miz as she leaned down and asked, "And Marcus Jones was one of 'em?"

"He was... a person of interest.", Dillon nodded, "A man in his position had all the cards on the table, could easily have engineered this."

Miz interjected, "So why hire outside the company...? Why not turn over what you already had to IA and let them handle the witch hunt?"

His head sagged as he stared intently at the floor for several seconds. He didn't need to say it, they all already knew, with Pops answering the question on his behalf, "Because his hands ain't all that clean when all's said an' done..."

Dillon hated himself for it, but he nodded again, "It's Securicine all over again... company makes out better on the bottom line just claiming the losses... and I couldn't risk my own side projects being found out, but if I could control the flow of information to an outsider, I could get away clean from all of it..."

"If you're no better than Jones, then why bother?", Chelle's choice of words and tone cut a littler deeper than Dillon would have liked as he answered with disdain in his voice, "...because at least what I'm pushing is tested and clean. T-That garbage, you may as well be huffing industrial waste while opening a vein..."

Pops looked to Chelle with a smirk, "So what's the call, he lyin' or not?"

Her entire body was rigid, her face hard as stone as she answered, "He's corpo scum... but he's telling the truth. Show him what we know..."

Good enough for Pops as he leaned in closer, reaching around with a shard as Dillon instinctively pulled away, prompting a grumble from the old solo, "Hmm... you're goin' to want to see this, friend."

Dillon conceded, arching his neck up and to the left as Pops fought with the socket at first. Finally, he found the right grooves and slotted the shard as the younger corpo's eyes lit up blue. They were careful as to how much to put on the shard, only giving a piece of the recorded video. It was enough that he knew immediately what he was looking at; Biotechnica's own Protein Farms with BARGHEST running security on the loading docks. His eyes widened as he stumbled over his words, "...t-this is... this is way beyond the reach of some lead-headed gonk like Jones... don't get me wrong, he's smart, but he's not pulling the strings here."

"Then who is?", Pops asked, to which their captive answered with a shake of his head, "I couldn't say, but it's got to be someone in Project Homestead... s-sorry, that's our nickname for the protein farms."

He kept watching before he continued, "And if those hounds are the huscle for the operation, I have a pretty good idea of who they sent to handle Joe."

Everyone in the room perked up at that as Dillon smiled, "Chester Bennett runs a tight ship, but sometimes even he has to get his hands dirty in Night City proper. BARGHEST is kill-on-sight beyond the South Ring or the 101, so his predecessor cut a special deal with the NCPD... talk to your contacts about the MODUS Group..."

As quiet as she tried to be, everyone in the room could hear Chelle as she muttered, "...shit...", and walked into the bathroom, the door slamming behind her. Miz turned back to Dillon, who was already shaking his head firmly, "I'm done. If they got to Joe, they can get to me. If you got to me, they can get to me just as easy. Talk to your fixers, or talk to her..."

Pops narrowed his eyes as the revolver raised before Dillon's voice took on a warmth they'd not seen from him yet, "Joe did the job I hired him for, and I owe on that. I can't flash the eddies now seeing as you put a jammer on me... smart call, by the way... but as soon as I'm free and clear, Joe gave me a wire account that his 'partner' has access to. She'll have the full payment if you can get me whatever else there was."

By now, Chelle had exited the bathroom, nearly pale as a ghost, but looking stronger than before. The crew all looked her way as she mulled it over in her head. After what felt like too long, she cut to Pops and said, "He's been straight with us so far... give him what he's asking for and cut him loose. Jammer won't hold up much longer, and we don't want to be here when Trauma Teams waltzes in."

The crew all shifted around, heading towards the door. Chelle was last in line as Dillon called out to her, "Hey... I'm sorry about Joe, really. But... was any of it real?"

Chelle smiled sincerely as she leaned in and whispered, "Every bit except any notion of you getting laid... hang loose, handsome."

She chuckled softly as Dillon gave a smirk before he was alone in the room as the door shut. He could hear the voices trailing off as Miz asked Chelle about the MODUS Group, to which the older woman answered apprehensively, "...ask V when we get back..."

Even with the shutters drawn, Dillon could make out a dull glow creeping up over the horizon from behind him. He gave a sigh of relief as he would yet see another sunrise, a smile forming as his HUD showed online again before the screeching of tires sounded in the parking lot.

--