The game shifted to the group leaving Seattle for Chicago. It was known that the journey, and Chicago itself, were dangerous enough that they may not make it back. The next few stories are about Em wrapping up loose ends in Seattle before leaving.

—

“Okay, so if we’re going to Chicago, I gotta get some shit done before we head out. Give me two days?” Em asks the Professor and Stafford.

When neither seem to object, she leaves the bar pulling out her new commlink. This is already coming in pretty handy. 

As she’s getting on her bike, she calls Ty. He doesn’t answer.

Fuck. She definitely needs to connect with him before they leave. She sits on the bike pensively for a few moments. What if he doesn’t call back, who else could I call? 

Deciding to deal with that later, she dials Al, who does pick up. “Twice in one day!”, he answers, booming and jovial.

“Yeah,” Em laughs, “You’re just lucky, I guess. Listen, can we have lunch tomorrow?”

Al’s jocular tone drops, “Why? I mean of course, but why? What’s wrong?”

“Drek Al, nothing’s wrong, I just want to have lunch with you.”

“… Okay… Is this a lunch where I’m going to be mad about something?”

“Well you’re always mad about something so yeah probably.”

“Drek. Okay. I’ll send you the details of this new place I’ve been wanting to go to. 12:30?”

“Perfect. See you there. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Em hangs up.

Fucking Ty, call back.

She sends Ty a message: “Important – tats and trips haha – call me. This is Em.”

She pockets the commlink and leans back to unclip the helmet off the side of her bike. As she’s pulling it on, she looks through the front window of the Pelican into the bar at the Professor and Stafford who are still chatting at the table. It has only been a minute or two and they did have almost full drinks when she left, they’ll probably be here for at least another few minutes, if not longer if they decide to have another, she guesses. She sees Big K is looking at her through the window, wiping a glass. She smiles and gives him a short wave – he smiles back and raises his chin in acknowledgement. She loves that she can always get that sour old coot to smile, feeling a distinct pride that she’s one of the few people who can. She pulls out and heads home.

—

As she rides home, Em’s commlink buzzes and she pull off to the side of the road to answer it. It’s Ty.

“Em?”

“Yeah – Ty! Hi!”

“Babe, I thought for sure someone was just pretending to be you. I didn’t think you had a commlink,” he laughs.

“Heh – no I didn’t till like… earlier today. You’re like the second person I’m talking to on it. So listen, I have a huge favour to ask.”

She pauses to let him respond – when he doesn’t, she continues: “I have to head out of town for a bit. I don’t know how long I’m gonna be gone. I want to finish up those flowers on my back, and pick up.”

“I can manage both of those things. When?”

“Uh… now?”

“Now? Fuck, Em.”

“I know Ty, that’s the favour.”

“I don’t know…”

“Ty, please don’t make make me leave town with half-done ink. Plus I’m almost out, and I need to grab for at least a few weeks, so it’ll be worth your while.”

Silence. Em doesn’t say anything and lets it hang in the air, heavy.

Ty finally responds, “Okay. I’ll see you in twenty minutes babe.”

“You’re the best Ty, see you soon!”

Em hangs up, pockets the commlink, and heads over to Mr. Red’s Ink & Things.

—

Twenty minutes later, she pulls up to the front of the tattoo parlour, a dingy affair just outside the Barrens. Local gangs come to see Ty to get their ink done, and he is one of the best tattoo artists on the West Coast. He’s even done some Yakuza ink, to hear him tell it. If he wasn’t so hooked onto the money and lifestyle that came with peddling BTL to local gangs, he does good enough tattoo work that he could easily run his own shop in the nicest part of Seattle and have a legitimate business with dedicated, high-paying clientele. Usually there are a few other bikes here – none as nice as hers – parked outside, but none now that its after business hours. 

Ty’s waiting for her outside the shop. He’s a handsome, if dopey-looking, human whose gauntness from the extreme drug use is balanced out by his incessant working out, so he just looks like he’s very toned. For now at least.

They exchange warm, familiar greetings and Ty unlocks the door to let them both into the shop. Em’s been here a thousand times before. The peeling posters on the walls of flash art of hearts, anchors, ships, skulls and cartoon characters are a familiar, welcome sight.

Looking the door behind her, he walks them to a room at the back of the shop. Em takes off her duster, revealing her tattooed arm. Ty whistles. “Drek, I look good on you.” Em laughs heartily, though this is probably the fifteenth time he’s made the same joke.

“Nova first?”

“Yeah.”

“How much do you want?”

Em pulls out 300 nuyen.

Ty grins and takes the money. “So a lot. I’ve got some new Yak stuff, it’s good.” He spends the next few minutes pulling out a brick of novacoke from a cabinet by the floor, weighing out a portion, and wrapping it up – absent-mindedly whistling throughout, the methodical actions of someone who does this so often that it’s muscle memory. He shows Em a package, about the size of a fist, “This’ll do you.” “Thanks Ty.” She takes it and puts it down by her duster. 

As is their routine, Ty turns to face the wall to give Em some privacy to take her top off, which she does hurriedly and lies down on her stomach on the table. He pulls on black rubber gloves and grins, “Now for the real fun.” 

Three-quarters of Em’s back is tattooed with a large phoenix done in peacock blues and greens rather than the traditional reds and golds. One of the tail feathers of the phoenix curls up at the base of Em’s neck, and is the only piece of this stunningly intricate artwork that is visible normally. The phoenix is standing on a bed of lilies – the outline of which have been done, but the colouring hasn’t.

“What’d we decide? Pink, right?” “Yeah, a light pink.”

Ty spends a few minutes getting the inks together and returns, tattoo gun in hand. “You good, babe?” “Yup. Go for it.” 

Ty works in silence for a few minutes before he starts chatting.

“So where are you going?”, he asks, the tattoo gun whirring away.

“Chicago.”

“Drek, seriously?”

“Yeah,” Em chuckles, “There’s a job out there.”

“How long you gonna be gone?”

“That’s the really fucked up part. I don’t know.”

“Fuck… so I might never see you again.” He sounds genuinely upset.

“No Ty, don’t be fucking stupid, of course I’ll see you again.”

“Babe, I heard that in Chicago, the megas have… like… biochemical shit that they use on runners.”

“Then I’ll just have to be good enough to not have that happen.”

“Drek, Em. I’m serious.”

“Ty, I don’t know why you’re so worried all of a sudden.”

“Because we’re friends.”

Em doesn’t say anything.

Ty stops tattooing for a second before continuing, his tone now slightly affronted, “We ARE friends, right? Like I’m not just your dealer.”

“Of course we’re friends Ty, drek. I just… I didn’t think we were like… making a thing about it.”

“Em, why are you so … fuck, babe, I don’t know,” he says, exasperated.

The whirr of the tattoo gun underscores the awkward, huffy silence that fills the room. 

Em breaks the silence: “Ty, listen. Of course we’re friends. I’m sorry. I just … I didn’t think you’d worry.”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I worry?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. But listen, I’m not going alone. I’ve got people who have my back.”

“That’s good at least. Who are you going with?”, his tone brightens a little.

“One’s called the Professor. The other is Stafford. He runs that shop, you know?”

“Oh, yeah, I know Stafford!”

“… How do you know Stafford?”

“Well, I don’t KNOW know him – Couple of guys I’ve inked from Hellhounds and Red Rovers talk about his work. I’ve heard he’s really good.”

“Yeah, he is. He installed this two-amp linkage that I’ve been wanting for awhile on my baby. It’s made a huge difference.

“Cool. I mean I’m not entirely sure how well a teacher and a mechanic are going to have your back but ok.”

“The Professor’s not actually a professor, and Stafford’s not just a mechanic, Ty. Don’t be a dick.”

Ty laughs, “Ok, ok. I’m just glad you’re not going alone.”

They chat and laugh for about two hours, mostly about the goings-on of local gangs – who’s infringing on who’s territory, who’s girl is stepping out with who, who was so fucked up on Nitro that a simple hit job turned into a massacre – while Ty finishes colouring in the lilies on Em’s back. Finally, he sits up and rolls his shoulders, releasing the tension: “Babe. We’re done. It’s fucking beautiful.”

“Oh I knew it would be,” Em says, in a bit of pain – but the good kind – sitting up excitedly with her back to Ty. She grabs her tshirt and holds it up to her front before turning around to check out her back in the full length mirror. Ty is grinning proudly over her shoulder, looking at the flowers. The overall effect is absolutely stunning, and each individual piece is intricate and detailed, standing out on its own. “Fuuuuuuck….” Em exhales, a huge smile on her face. “I love it. I fucking love it.”

The next few minutes are filled with Ty bandaging her up and giving her the same aftercare instructions he’s given her a thousand times before. She pulls on her duster and pockets the small brick of novacoke.

“I’ll transfer the money to you for this,” Em says. “Nah don’t worry about it babe, this is just finishing up the piece.. But… uh… Just..” He stops and clears his throat: “Be careful of the nova in Chicago, you don’t know what’s in it.”

“Okay.”  Em smiles.

The two of them hug each other, longer and tighter than they usually do, before Em leaves the shop.

—

Em is nervous about lunch. Alphonse is the closest thing she has to family, and she knows that even though she might go back and forth on how she feels about him, he has always thought of her as a daughter. She meets him at Sliver, a trendy, upscale Japanese restaurant. His giant muscular frame in its usual fitted black t-shirt and pants should look out of place among the delicate white and silver décor, but he seems to fit right in.

After she orders, she notices Alphonse has been staring at her.

“What?” she asks, taking a sip of water.

“Get to it.”

“I just wanted to see you.”

“Like hell.” He says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“I’m… uh… going to Chicago for a bit.”

The slight smile that he has had this whole time drops in an instant. “Okay.” He responds slowly, quietly.. dangerously. “Why?”

“For work.”

“What kind of work? A mega contract?”

“Uh… sort of.”

He doesn’t respond or move. Sitting there with his massive arms folded across his barrel chest, with a scowl forming on his face, he is an intimidating sight. His jaw clenches, and he inhales and exhales deeply, slowly. Em knows what’s going through his mind right now – When he worked for armour R&D for Aztech, he did a lot of work that was used in Chicago. He knows about the containment zone and bugs and the fallout from the megas better than most people. It was one of the darkest times of his life, working with unending amounts of death and carnage. She also knows he has tried to do breath exercises to control his temper in the past, and his breathing is particularly slow and deep right now.

When he finally speaks, it’s slow and deathly quiet. “Miles. I’m going to ask you to give me the same respect I’ve always given you. Tell me why you’re going to that shithole, how you’re getting there, and when you’ll be back.”

She’s only seen him this angry at her once before – When they got into it about her father a few years ago. She got angry right back that time though.

She drops her voice to barely above a whisper and explains about the Ares and Aztechnology deal that wasn’t fulfilled. She says that she’ll be going with The Professor – “remember you met him?” – and Stafford – “That ork whose coat you fixed up” – and that they’ll be driving there. 

As soon as she says ‘driving’, the scowl on Alphonse’s face deepens.

Em quickly adds, “Stafford’s an amazing wheelman, seriously one of the best around, and he’s really good with a gun too, and the Professor knows how to plug into the matrix and…” She almost says ‘builds bombs’ but catches herself at the last second. That will definitely not help right now.

”… And you know I can make sure people don’t fuck with us. And I have a commlink now, so I’ll call you and message you all the time so you know I’m safe. You know I won’t do stupid shit.”

Alphonse leans forward and retorts in an angry whisper, “You do stupid shit all the time. Running is fucking stupid to begin with. You’re going to get the information, and then what? Play fucking Ares and Aztech against each other? How do you think that’s going to end, Miles?”

The food arrives. Em doesn’t say anything, and looks down at her plate, using every ounce of willpower to keep her face as neutral as possible and avoid eye contact, but can feel Alphonse watching her. A few long minutes of silence pass.

Eventually, he speaks, with a tone that is resigned and tired, “So what do you want from me, Miles? You don’t need my permission.“ She looks up at him and is suddenly struck by how old he looks. 

Em is silent for a moment before responding softly, “I guess I wanted to see you before I left.”

Alphonse smiles sadly at her, “You might not come back.”

“I don’t think I’ll want to move to Chicago.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“I know.”

Silence again. Alphonse breaks the quiet by clearing his throat, “Okay. Well. Let’s enjoy the rest of our lunch, since you fucked up the first bit of it so badly.”

Em smiles. He moves his hand to hold hers across the table, which she takes.

“So,” he says, sitting up straighter in his seat and picking up his chopsticks, “Tell me about these people you’re going with. How did the coats look?”

—

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