Sprite didn’t know what to make of the situation, but the humming grew louder and higher pitched, like the sound of a jet engine warming up. She instinctively backed away, but was still on top of him when something beneath his clothing exploded outward. It threw Sprite off the top of him in a blur, shredding his sweatshirt and sending her across the alley.

Sprite rolled over from the ground and looked up in time to see moving bands of liquid armor forming a fluid, nebulous type of shell around Scotty.

“Stay away from me!” he yelled like a madman.

He leapt up from the ground and started running again, barely looking behind him. The two continued to run, but Sprite was very close now after his fall, and she could tell the little man was tiring quickly.

Just a few more steps and Sprite grabbed his loose sweatshirt. She pulled. Scotty’s footing stumbled, becoming tangled with hers, and they both went down. They rolled, but Sprite ended up on top.

“Scotty, you owe me,” she said, pushing her knee into his back, forcing his face into the ground.

Then a strange humming started coming from beneath his loose sweatshirt.

Just ahead of her, she glimpsed Scotty as the little man burst through another door, this one leading outside. His loose, gray hooded sweatshirt flapped behind him as he ran, and the morning sun just above the horizon pierced the dark hall with its rays. Sprite squinted and pushed on a burst of speed, gaining the door quickly and flying out after Scotty.

Scotty was just a block ahead now and Sprite chased him down the street and into an alley. He slipped on some gravel, falling to the blacktop. Sprite was almost on top of him, but the little man had some still left in him.

The crowd went crazy, some in anger that the auction had been disrupted, others out of joy that there was nothing any longer restraining the top half of Jazelle’s medical augmentations.

“Out of my way,” Sprite said, pushing herself off Jazelle and sprinting into the dark doorway. She pushed past assistants manning auction items and avoided two brutes playing security, guns drawn. She turned a corner and ran down a long hall, hearing rapid footfalls echoing ahead of her.

“Scotty! We need to talk! You owe me!”

The echoing steps did not slow, and Sprite continued running, rounding another corner.

Sprite followed, bounding down cement stairs, leaping onto the stage.

“This is inappropriate, miss,” the greasy announcer said, stepping into her path. Sprite adjusted, not slowing down but shoving him to one side and leaping off the stage. Unfortunately, with the auctioneer in her way, Sprite did not see Jazelle the model behind him, latest item for bid held high over her head.

Spite tackled the disproportionately curvaceous woman, and the two tumbled to the ground.

In the fall, physics finally had its way. What had been a tiny, red bikini top barely held on, suddenly became a deadly projectile.

Sprite started running as quickly as she could through the crowd, pushing patrons out of her way and shouting for a clear path. Scotty had quite the lead, but she was gaining. And he still had to go around the entire stadium.

Scotty saw Sprite rapidly approaching. He turned toward the center stage, and started bounding down the stairs. For a man his size, he had quite the reach. He leapt directly to the stage.

“This isn’t the way to place a bid, sir,” the auctioneer said, but Scotty quickly jumped to the ground and disappeared through the dark doorway.

“Listen,” Sprite said, turning on the old woman again. “I sort of have some private things to discuss with Scotty up there.”

“Why you sneak?”

Sprite rolled her head in frustration. “I just have to talk with the guy. He owes me a favor, and I need a favor. But I’m not sure how he’ll respond, so I don’t want him to try skipping out. Ok?”

“Ok,” Mioko said.

“Ok,” Sprite said, turning around again, but Scotty had vanished. Sprite looked around frantically. “Where’d he go?”

“Skipping,” the old woman said, pointing toward the little man rapidly making his exit.

Sprite began to walk again, but the old woman would not leave her alone.

“Why you want hub so bad?” Mioko asked.

“It was up for auction,” Sprite said. “I wanted to buy it.”

“But you no here for auction. You here for Scotty. Why you buy hub?”

“I’m interested in AI, all right? It’s an older piece, yeah, but I usually find myself working with junk anyway, so some older hardware can help that old junk talk to each other. This is your auction, Mioko. Don’t you know what you’re selling?”

“I only care building. Product not my worry.”

“You’re very intelligent, Mioko, but don’t worry about it,” Sprite said. “Scotty will be just fine.” She began to work her way through the crowd again, heading toward the small man in the baggy sweatshirt while trying to avoid appearing to head in his direction.

The old woman followed her. “What you want talk Scotty?”

“He owes me, and I’m cashing in.”

“No trouble here. You take outside.”

“There’s not going to be any trouble,” Sprite protested, facing the elderly woman. Even at Sprite’s height, she towered over the small woman.

“You take outside!”

“Fine. Take outside. You got it.”

“What you want with Scotty?” Mioko asked.

“Nothing,” Sprite said, looking away. “Who’s Scotty?”

“You no lie to me,” Mioko said. “I’m not that old. I remember.” She jabbed her finger at her temple repeatedly.

“Fine, fine, you remember,” Sprite said, pulling the old woman’s finger away from her head before she hurt herself. “I can’t pull one over on you. I need to talk to him, that’s all.”

“When people say they need talk and that’s all, it’s never all.”

Sprite nodded, scanning the crowd for anyone out of the ordinary then back to Scotty. Everything still seemed fine.

“Damn it, Mioko!” Sprite shouted, getting into the ancient woman’s face. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“Why hell you lie to me?” the old woman asked back.

The crowd was still too loud and excited to pay much attention. They were much more concerned about placing their bids.

“I didn’t lie to you.”

“No lie!” Mioko shouted.

A level head returning again, Sprite ducked her stance and peered through other auctioneers to see if her mark was still there. He was, apparently too aroused by his potential buys to notice their fight.

The old woman followed her look.

“Why you here?” the old woman demanded, deftly stepping on Sprite’s handheld and sliding it behind her. The ace mech desperately tried to grab the device, but between the crowd and the old woman’s shockingly unmoving stance, she couldn’t get to it.

“I’ll play twenty questions all you want, Mioko, after I place my bid.”

Sprite continued to struggle but the auctioneer said, “Our next item for bid is an elegant piece of software.”

She stopped and looked to the stage. Jazelle was already out with the next item held above her empty head, blank smile, and cosmetically enhanced frame.

“Why you no get before?” Mioko asked.

Sprite grabbed the handheld from the old woman’s hand. “I just got here,” she said, entering her user ID and checking the bidding.

“I saw you arrive. Plenty time get bid maker.”

“Well the first item didn’t interest me,” Sprite said, punching in her password and waiting for the device to update and sync. The bidding was slowing down.

“Why you here?” Mioko asked.

“I’m trying to place a bid,” Sprite said, eying the slowed bidding, still waiting for the sync.

“No lie to me!” Mioko said, smacking the handheld from Sprite’s grip.

The wrinkled, elderly woman had one handheld as high in the air as her short arm could hold it, and she had a satchel over her shoulder full of more. Sprite pushed her way toward the old woman.

“Mioko, I need a handheld,” Sprite said, still approaching.

“Ah, little Sprite,” Mioko said smiling, eyeing Sprite through squinted eyes but not moving the handheld from above her head. “You look the same.”

“Yeah, you too.”

“Long time, no see,” the old woman continued, keeping all bidding devices away from Sprite.

“I need to make a bid, Mioko. Give me a handheld.”

Sprite grabbed the handheld of the man next to her, scanning the listed specs of the A9 hub. The bid wasn’t very high yet. She had to bid on this item, but she needed a handheld of her own.

She returned the handheld to its user, ignoring his loud complaints and searched desperately for someone involved with the auction. She eyed the bidding. It was still going up, consistently but not in leaps and bounds. It was still within her price range.

Then Sprite spotted Mioko nearby, an old, small woman of Pacific Eastern descent who owned the bidding hall.

The model sashayed her way backstage to return a moment later with the next item. The potential bidders scanned their handhelds for detailed information, and the auctioneer continued, his smile growing bigger by the moment.

“Our next item is a useful piece of hardware for those of you interested in technametrics. This A9 hub enables the direct link between a 2D code modulator and the formation of a robotics AI.”

Sprite stopped her attempts to penetrate the crowd. Turning to listen, she cocked her head, intrigued.

“Rumor has it, there has even been testing of a potential direction bio feed.”

Jazelle circled the stage, computer processor held over her head and hips swinging wide as members of the crowd began bidding with handheld readers.

A four-sided counter hung above the announcer. He continued as the going price increased.

“This processor is a world of improvement over the 1750 model. You’ll see obvious process speeds increased, as well as agile capabilities. The 1800 works hand in hand with D-series modules, improving regenerative memory time-sharing and encouraging processor cloning. Series installation is a snap and output speeds are guaranteed for at least 7.1.”

Jazelle continued her flaunt until the bidding leveled out.

The announcer smiled broadly, slicked back hair and polished white teeth reflecting the bright spotlights. “I see word has spread for today’s festivities, so let’s not delay any longer. The moment you’ve all been waiting for has arrived. Jazelle, if you wouldn’t mind?” He gestured toward the entrance, and she went back into the dark doorway only to return a moment later with a small item encased in plastic held over her head. She continued around the stage as before, and the crowd cheered again.

“Our first item for bid is an 1800 speed quantum processor, slightly used, near mint.”

At the arena’s center, a woman with augmented breasts and hips entered from the dark doorway to more cheers. She wore a red bikini, barely there.

Sprite made her way through the crowd, being pushed this way and that as they grew more restless. The nearly naked woman rounded the stage one time when a man wearing a suit of gray plaid came out of the doorway. He gave her a long kiss and grabbed a hanging microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, voice echoing throughout the room as he took to the stage and looked over the crowd. “Welcome!”

Sprite entered, hood pulled over her head, shielding her face. She scanned the room but few paid notice. They were all waiting for the show to begin below. The place was packed, a hundred at least. Sprite cursed her luck. There must be something extra special on display this day.

Finally the dark doorway opened and a cheer of anticipation rose up from the crowd. Sprite continued looking around the room and spotted the little man with the big eyes in the corner, a large smile spread across his face.

Spotlights from the ceiling turned on, illuminating the stage below.

The little man sat in the shadowy corner, big eyes devouring the scene in front of him. He wore a loose gray sweatshirt zipped up, his legs tucked close to his chest. His hair was greasy and unkempt. Around him several other men and a few women sat, anticipating the event about to take place.

The open room was made mostly of concrete and old timber. People sat at tables and chairs or on cement stadium steps. The center of the room below them had a small stage and a dark doorway off it, going beneath one set of stairs.

The next morning, Sprite strapped on two high powered hip shooters for the world to see, as well as a couple other smaller, hidden weapons, just in case. She paid hard currency for the hotel and left before the sun rose.

The pavement was still wet from the acid rains and the soles of her shoes smoked and hissed with every step. But the rains wouldn’t return until nightfall, and Sprite expected to be back on the mainland by then.

One of her quarry was an early riser, and she knew where to find him. Every day was the same.

“At least take Rex,” Turtle said.

“Sweetie, please,” Helen protested.

“I know you don’t trust him, but just please do it. For me.”

Helen looked at her husband and relented, nodding her head.

“Thank you,” Turtle said.

They kissed goodbye again, and Helen went down the deserted hallways of their home. Passing an observation booth, she saw Clara still endlessly digging for info. Helen said another prayer for Randal and hoped they’d learn something soon. She gathered some more equipment and got their Doberman Pit mix on a leash.

Helen grabbed a reinforced hooded poncho and durable boots, then left.

Thirty minutes later Helen pulled her tank top back on followed by a double sided shoulder holster holding two handheld, rapid fire rhino rams. Then she put on her short sleeve shirt without buttoning it up.

“Helen, please, let me come with you,” Turtle said again, this time his shirt off and sitting in bed.

“Turtle, the rest of the family needs you here. I’m checking on Sprite, but we’ll be fine.”

It was obvious Turtle didn’t agree with his wife, but he also didn’t argue further.

“Sweetie, trust me,” Helen said, kissing her husband once more. “We’ll be fine.”

Helen smiled, seduction in her eyes. She continued walking toward her husband, adding a little sway to her hips with each step.

“Helen, please, this is serious.”

“I can’t help it. You know how hot I get when you’re demanding like this.”

“Helen, this isn’t the time. Tell me which girl.”

“And when you’re playing with your guns.” She pulled off his shirt, running her hand through his curly, red chest hair. “I just can’t help myself.” She started kissing his neck and chest.

“Helen, please.” Turtle put his hands to her shoulders but was enjoying her touch too much.

“Then I’m going with you,” Turtle said, heading to the closet.

Helen took off her short sleeved button up, a white, ribbed tank top beneath. “This is something I have to do on my own, T.”

“Like hell,” he said, checking his snubbie for ammo.

Helen left her gear on the stand and walked toward her husband. “This is nothing, sweetie. I’m just checking up on one of our girls.”

“Which one?” T said, standing up after strapping on his ankle holster. He paused, eyeing his wife. Helen knew he appreciated her choice of undergarments, specifically anything small or tight.

Turtle held his wife close. “Thank you for what?”

Helen smiled, her face still nestled in the nook of his neck, chest, and shoulder. “Just thank you,” she said, feeling much better for no reason she could say. Then she pulled away from her husband, looking up into his hazel eyes. He was still worried, but she didn’t have time to let that bother her. “Sweetie, I have to go.”

“‘Go’? What do you mean, ‘Go’?”

“It’s one of the family, sweetie. I have to go.” She turned around, going to the dresser and pulling out some of her gear.

“Turtle,” she said, still unsure what to say or what to share. She formed a small smile and gently laid her hand on his chest, but the worry didn’t leave his eyes. “Just,” she started, then stopped. “I don’t know,” she said. “Just, hold me.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her face into his chest, resting her head on his shoulder. Turtle wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. She breathed deeply, letting her husband’s musty, rugged scent reassure her the way only something vague and intangible sometimes can.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.”

Helen didn’t answer her husband, only eying the floor. “Let me go,” she said.

“Helen, what is it?”

“It’s nothing. I don’t know. It’s just. Please, Turtle, let me go.”

She tried to walk away but with little force behind it, and he still held her in place.

“Please, Helen. What’s wrong?”

Helen looked up, making eye contact with her husband. He was just a little taller than she was, but much broader. He held her shoulders and his hold was somehow reassuring. She looked at his hazel eyes and saw his worry.

But she wasn’t ready to share yet.

“You coming to bed?” Turtle asked, laying his big, calloused hands on his wife’s shoulders. His touch was warm and gentle but it startled her nonetheless. “You ok?” he said, removing his hands.

“Yeah, fine,” Helen said, breaking her stare of the screen, no further reads coming from Griffin Isle. She closed out the frames and pushed away from the desk, trying to hide her uncertainty.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Helen said, looking to the ground and trying to walk past him. But Turtle took hold of her again. His touch was careful but commanding, and he stopped her.

“What’s wrong?”

Wondering where Sprite was off to, Helen tried tracking Sprite’s mobilecom. Naturally this was blocked; Helen hacked public protectorate, some private security cams, and transpo to follow the ace’s movement to Pass Town.

Helen witnessed Sprite board a boat. No passenger manifest online, but records filed with coastguard showed the boat’s destination as Griffin Isle. Helen doubted much of their dynamics was live networked. She tried a few routs, but her suspicions were confirmed. There were some rough characters on Griffin Isle, but Helen would be unable to further track Sprite’s movements.

Helen sat back from the computer.

Now what?