Suddenly without any balance, the elf tumbled forward, a scream giving away his pain. With ease, Sinunu lifted herself off the rooftop with her left leg and caught him just under the chin with the toe of her right boot.

The elf’s head shot back, blood spraying as teeth splintered in his mouth and flew through the air.

He collapsed into a heap at Sinunu’s feet. “You don’t know squat, you damn amateur. Maybe that’ll teach you not to get too close.”

Without another look at him, she rolled back over to the sniper rifle, and subvocalized into her tacticom. “Like I was saying, this is Bird’s Eye, and I’ve got the back door covered.”

Sandman’s voice in her ear sounded like a ghost through the headset. He was in the stepvan parked just down below in the alley. but his transmission via the Matrix always gave his voice an ethereal sound. “Front doors pop. No auto see devices, and just the three of them in the room. You can party whenever you’re ready to put on your boogie shoes. Just give the door a little push.”

Then she heard Flak’s voice. “You ready with the bang-bang, Trux?”

There was a pause that stretched long enough for Sinunu to realize she’d stopped breathing. Take it easy. Truxa can handle anything these punks throw. Even as she thought the words, she had a hard time believing them.

Truxa Fin was the team’s elven mage and she was also Sinunu’s lover. Sinunu knew she had a problem being overprotective, but there was nothing she could do about how she felt.

After a second more, Truxa’s voice, bright and cheerful, sounded over the tacticom. Sorry about that, Had a problem with the now previous tenant of the apartment It seems he took exception to my presence, but he’s feeling much better about things since he decided to vacate, I’m in the slot and ready to roll.”

“Then it’s party time.”

Through the window Sinunu watched as Carlos suddenly whipped around toward the front door, and even though she couldn’t see it. she knew what had happened. Two hundred kilos of very pissed-off troll had just smashed through his front door.

There was a brief pause, and a body flew through the air, crashing into the wall Opposite the bay window. So much for the ork.

That’s when things started to go south.

“I got heat signatures on the floor above, moving fast, and it don’t look like a meeting of the glee club.” Sandman’s Matrix-distoned voice sounded harried, and Sinunu briefly wondered what had gotten him so agitated. Then, she knew.

The Sound of gunfire rolled softly across the Street, and she could hear the distinctive screaming roar of Flak’s Vindicator as it cranked up to rock and roll.

Carlos was still standing with his back to her, and now she could see Flak, facing away from her, the spinning barrel of the Vindicator spitting fire.

in the same instant she also saw Carlos reach into his suit coat to pull out an Ares Predator.

Without thinking, Sinunu triggered the Barret, and felt the small recoil as the heavy slug shattered the bay window. The round caught Carlos in the back of the neck almost taking his head off as the force spun him completely around. The sounds of gunfire echoed loudly through the streets now that the window was gone.

Sinunu spoke quickly into the tacticom. “Back door is Open.”

The wall at the back of the apartment seemed to come apart, blowing inward, and suddenly, there was Truxa alongside Flak, her tiny hands making complicated motions in the air.

A ball of flame about the size of a small car ripped through the air and flashed out of sight toward the front door, and Sinunu could hear the screams of men who couldn’t get out of the way in time.

Flak never let up on his spray of lead as he and Truxa backed to the window, stepping over the body of Carlos.

From far away, the wail of Lone Star sirens could now be heard over the din of the firefight.

lust below her, Sinunu watched as the blue stepvan peeled out of the alley and stopped just under the second-floor picture window.

“Flak, back door. Go!”

In a simple motion, Truxa grabbed the big troll’s back and hung on as he turned and leapt from the window, landing with ease on the roof of the stepvan, which buckled slightly under his weight. The van accelerated back out into the street, with Truxa and Flak still on the roof.

Sinunu watched as smoke began billowing out of the window. A couple of men in dark body armor made their way through the smoke and tried to level their weapons at the fleeing vehicle.

Too bad you spent so much on body armor; boys. All the less nuyen going to your grieving widows. With that thought, Sinunu opened fire.

Three rounds, three head shots, three kills, clean and by the book.

Climbing rapidly to her feet, she took the Barret apart quickly, placing each piece back into its individual holster.

Slowing only to pick up the Colt Cobra from where it had fallen, then putting two rounds into the unconscious elf’s head, Sinunu exited the roof top.

When she reached the alley, she carefully wiped the Cobra clean and dropped it into a dumpster. Then she tightened her duster around her and headed toward the Street, where a gaggle of Lone Star patrol cars had just arrived screaming on the scene.

She figured she might as well watch the show. That, and make sure Carlos was hauled out in a body bag. She’d meet up with the rest of the crew after.

4

Mike, got your request and did a little digging. Unfortunately there isn’t much to tell. Fratellanza, Inc. seems to be legit, despite the fact that they’ve got contracts with some high-ranking Mafia and Yakuza members. Especially since Butcher Bigio got the nod as the new capo of Seattle. Fratellanza’s small, but they got a rep for doing personal security like nobody else. I’ll keep my ears open on the son’s death, but I think you’re probably wasting your time on the Mafia angle.

– 

Inter-departmental email, Lone Star Security Services Inc., Stem Carlson, Department of Organized Crime. to Mike Powell, Department of Homicide, 03 August 2060. Transmission intercept by Fratellanta deckers. Scan word: Fratellanza, 05 August 2060

The morning rain felt in gentle sweeps, bordering on mist. Tall, opulent gravestones lined the roadway, extending back as far as the eye could see through the drizzle. Dotting the landscape were spires of rock topped with everything from carved angels and lions to robed saints and mitered popes.

The graveyard was a huge, grassy expanse near the University of Washington. Founded in the early eighteen hundreds, it was old enough that even the burial ground’s thirty thousand square meters had become crowded.

Stone statues fought, elbow to elbow, with granite markers for the remaining clear areas. The only free space was deep in the heart of the grounds. There stood the small mausoleum where the city’s founding father was buried.

The cost to bury a loved one here was astronomical. But to the people attending the funeral today, money was no object.

Just behind the founding father’s mausoleum, a group of the city’s wealthy had gathered to bury one of their own. In their tailored suits and designer dresses, with not an income in the group below several hundred thousand nuyen a year, most of them would have found the idea of an annual salary ludicrous. One had money, and it was managed. There was no thought of a wage.

Among the dead man’s mourners were a number of the family’s business acquaintances, those whom Fratellanza, Inc. counted among its stable of clients.

The corporate brotherhood.

Fratellanza Inc. had started small, but rather than trying to compete with Lone Star or Knight Errant, its owners had taken a different angle. Instead of trying to offer comprehensive protection for their clients’ assets, they’d concentrated strictly on personal security, leaving all other Sec duties to the bigger boys. This had allowed them to offer a level of personal service and pampering that the larger, more unwieldy corps didn’t even try to match. In this way. Fratellanza had carved a small niche for itself that had become immensely profitable beyond what the size of the corporation might have indicated.