Midori grumbled silently as she made her way through the security checkpoints and out into the street.  She could still see the plume of smoke rising from the penthouse windows from the Thermoplas explosion.  Private guards and municipal police milled about and arguments about jurisdiction floated through the air as the authorities gathered around the building like hyenas around a corpse.  
     “A day late and a dollar short.” She groused to herself as she surrendered her purse to a stocky security guard whose thick jowls and sunken eyes made him look more like a bulldog than some of the sculpts she had seen.  Her foot tapped impatiently as the man rifled through her stuff.
     “Do you have somewhere to be, Miss?” the guard asked skeptically.  “You seem to be in a hurry.  Perhaps you’re hiding something.”
     “No, officer.” She practically choked on the word, before plastering a smile on her face, “just a little jittery is all.  I forgot my phone, and I want to tell my boyfriend that I’m all right.”  Midori almost felt bad at lying to the guard.  He was only doing his job, after all.  But if they had been doing it right, this might not have happened at all.
     The guard looked into her purse and back to Midori.  
     “I’m sorry miss,” he replied, his expression softened as he handed the purse back, “It’s been a rough night, and well, we can’t be too careful.  You have a good evening, and take care on your way home.”
     “Thanks.  You take care too.” Midori grabbed her purse, and started to turn away, muttering a quiet “Idiot.” under her breath.
     She made her way through the crowd of rubberneckers and crossed the street.  She ignored the gaze of eyes that she managed to pull as she walked by.  She was definitely underdressed to be walking around Vegas without an escort.  
     Finally, a couple blocks away in an old parking garage, she came to her ride.  A non-descript freight truck, typical of the kind used in the early 21st century to haul goods, and still painted in its distinctive brown paint.  She stopped at the rear cargo hatch, and slid a hidden panel open to reveal a distinctly non-standard keypad.  She quickly punched in her access code, and an electronic beep and metallic click told her that she was in.  She hopped up on the oversized rear loading bumper, and hoisted the door open.
     The cargo hold was dark, except for the flickering array of computer monitors piled against the far wall on a reinforced computer desk, and the ridiculously expensive office chair that set next to it.  Midori tossed her purse aside onto the plush leather seat of a sleek motorcycle that was resting on its kickstand to the side of the cargo area.  A thick duffel bag draped across its gas tank.
     “Gene,” Midori began as she took the headband out of her hair.  “What do you have for me?”
     “Nice to see you too Midi.” Gene groused as he swiveled in his chair to face her.  He was a tall man, and surprisingly muscular considering his occupation.  He was in his mid twenties, and only slightly older than Midori himself.    Affixed to the arms of his office chairs were two customized keyboards he had designed himself.  All of the keys of a standard keyboard were on each, but designed to be operated with a single hand.  A complex communications headset sat atop his brow, with complete communications suite built in.
     “Hey, I was the one in the room that exploded!” She chided good naturedly.  “How’s Ammie doing?  She got to be, what seven months along now?”
     “Actually, eight.”  He began, ignoring Midori’s look of surprise, “And the doctor is kinda worried.  She hasn’t put on that much weight, and she was pretty active in the first trimester.”  He paused momentarily to remember what had happened back then, and shook his head before he continued, “The doctor told her to stay in bed as much as she can.”
     “Ooh, I bet she hates that.”
     “Yeah, it’s not easy living with her right now.  Don’t tell her this, but I’m actually glad we got called on a mission.  It gives me an excuse to get out of the house for a bit.”
     “I feel bad I haven’t been over to visit in so long.” Midori admitted guiltily, “I’ll visit you guys after this mission, I promise.  Besides, I hear the snowboarding in Colorado is excellent.”
     “We won’t be able to get you off the slopes, will we?” Gene asked as her turned to face his monitors again.
     “Maybe,” Midori replied, walking up to the chair she looked at the monitors briefly from over Gene’s shoulder. “What do you have for me?”
     Gene cracked his knuckles and his fingers danced across his custom keyboards.
     “Have you thought about getting a Neural Interface Jack?” Midori asked while watching his fingers fly from key to key, “My dad’s been working on them, and he says that they should get government approval within the next two years.”
     Gene shook his head, “No thanks.  I like the sense of disconnect I get with standard net jacks.  If I were to get plugged in, I don’t know if I would ever unplug.”
     “Your call,” Midori replied with a shrug, “So, what do we have here?”
     “I managed to track the two contacts through town.  The truck went to a run down motel, and the helicopter went to a municipal airport just outside of town.  I don’t know which one had GunBunny, so it’s a heads or tails sort of scenario.”
     “Which one is further away?” Midori asked, a predatory smile spread slowly across her face.
     “The airport.”
     “That’s where I’m headed then.”  Midori walked back to the motorcycle against the wall and pulled out a sleek black bodysuit of monofilament crystal weave out of the duffel bag, and a matching black leather motorcycle jacket with reinforced Kevlar padding.  “Shut your eyes, I don’t want you peeking in the reflection on the monitor again.”
     “Midi, I’m hurt.  Besides, I’m married.”
     “Just shut your eyes.”
     Midori waited a few seconds before slipping the dress off her shoulders, the silken fabric pooling on the floor at her feet.  She quickly stepped into the bodysuit and zipped herself in with practiced ease.  She connected the kinetic energy capacitors, and the monofilament circuitry glowed with a dim cerulean glow as the charge passed through the suit.  She shouldered her way into her jacket and lowered the ramp on the pneumatic lift before wheeling her bike into position.
     She slung her leg over and straddled the bike and thumbed the push-button ignition and the sleek Japanese machine roared to life beneath her.  She twisted the throttle forward and the bike lurched off the lift and Midori sped into the darkness.