Smoke on the water

*The security cameras had recorded the murder, but not the perpetrator. Only an unwilling witness. A short dark haired woman of the streets was the only person who could identify the killer. By showing her picture, the police had found her home in an old abandoned warehouse, only to discover that she was long gone. Since the murder was drug cartel related, word went out to all branches of law enforcement, along with her picture. A few weeks later, the police in Washington D.C. found her. Since everyone was expecting her to still be in New York, this was a shock to many people. Her name was Katherine Wells, and she was eighteen years old. They gave her some new clothing and a few dollars to get some stuff out of the vending machines in the police station while they were waiting for someone to come and pick her up. A few hours later, she was gone. No one knows how; no one saw her leave. Now they are looking for her again, as is the cartel in question. Now it's a race to see who finds her first.Katherine sat on a bench in the mall, trying to relax and plan what to do next. She brushes a hand at her new jeans, crossing her other arm over her new t-shirt. In some ways the new clothing was nice, but it made things harder. She would be noticed if she took to the streets in this garb. The sweater wasn't that bad, a lot of people made do with those when they couldn't get a coat. Which she couldn't. With less than twenty dollars in her pocket, she didn't have many options. If she was wearing older clothing, she could do what she normally did; go to the various ethnic areas of a large city like this one and offer her services as an interpreter. She came cheap, was discreet, and earned enough money to keep herself alive. That was how she had left New York City, using that money for a bus ticket. Now, she didn't even have that option. She sighed, watching the flow of people around her and wondering what to do. She didn't want any part of this, either with the authorities, or with the people who had killed that poor man. So what was she to do? As she was sitting there, several people started in her direction, using a movement that was meant to surround her. When she realized and got up, it was a little too late. With a sickening stomach, she recognized two of the men. She had seen them just a few weeks ago, in an alley. Both of them come to stand beside her, the others blocking any path of escape, unless she used the odd talents that she had discovered a few years ago. She hesitated a long moment, and that proved to be her undoing. One man grabbed one arm, the other grabbed her other wrist. She felt a prickling on the skin of the back of her hand. As the scene around her faded out, she fuzzily became aware that the prickling must have been some covert way to give her an injection of some drug. Indeed, she collapsed into the men's arms. The larger of the two scooped her up and carried her out while showing brotherly concern, fooling the mall's security. However, due to the oddity of the call, a police officer came out to look at the videos from the security cameras. Then a red alert went out, since their only witness had just been taken by the very people she was supposed to testify against. Katherine woke up in a deserted van. It was nighttime and she could hear voices nearby. The voices were coming closer to the van. She knew what she had to do, despite her splitting headache and gnawing hunger. She also knew she couldn't hold it for long. Closing her eyes, she called upon that odd power that she had discovered just a few short years ago. She knew how to use it, because of other bad situations. The door of the van opened on nothing but a cloud of smoke and some empty ropes. The smoke floated away into the dark night, while the men who had captured her cursed and started looking for her.* *A few blocks away, she stumbles into the brick wall of a looming building, clutching her stomach and fighting against the violent nausea. Her pounding headache didn't help. Slowly she oriented herself and started walking slowly away from the van she had vacated in such a hurry. She hoped the men rotted in hell. Now, where could she find a restaurant and a truck station? She obviously couldn't stay here. Idly she wondered what day it was, and even more importantly where she was. It gave her something to focus on so that she could keep moving. And that was very difficult indeed. Some hours later, she was sitting in a diner, drinking a cup of coffee and finishing the first meal she had had in three days, which she had spent unconscious on her unwilling trip to San Francisco. She sighed softly, having been unable to find anyone to take her somewhere else. At least, she hadn't found anyone she trusted to take her. She was so very tired. It was the last of the drug and having used her powers. Briefly she wonders about her powers. Where had they come from? She closed her eyes as she thought about it, her head drooping lower and lower…until she fell asleep. The owner of the diner being a kind man, let her sleep for now. It was obvious she had been under a lot of stress lately. He thought she must be having troubles with her boyfriend or something. It was a little after dawn when the owner woke her up. "Hey, honey. You look like you needed a nap, but I can't let you sleep here, girl. Here, have another cup of coffee, on me." He smiles at her and sets a fresh cup in front of her. "Thank you. Sorry for falling asleep here." She smiles back shyly, wrapping her thin hands around the mug. "Think nothing of it, honey. Just take care of yourself." "I'll try." With that, he leaves her be, and she sips the coffee, waking up slowly. When she is finished, she leaves it on the table, goes to the necessary, then leaves the diner. Shoving her hands down in the pockets of her jeans, she heads toward the beach. Even at this time of year, there should be people there and she might find a way to turn a few bucks. She hoped so anyway.*

(Warpole)
*...San Francisco. The home of Rice a Roni, which this city claimed as their `treat`. Okay, well the commercials claimed that, anyway. Pole smiles to himself, pleased with the headway he's made on his Christmas shopping. He'd started early this year, which was amazing for him... a week before the Day, instead of a day before. He'd planned to go exotic this time, and while the shopping center in the complex was incredible, Pole wanted privacy and a bit of freedom in locale... he'd been all over the world for his presents... Korea for the dolls he'd give Phobia, Ireland for the sword he'd picked up for Black (along with a new inscribed mirror, a photo of Pole himself tucked into the corner of it which read "you could only hope to look this good"), a hoard of items for Toshi, some subdued things for Yvette, etc, etc... he actually had quite a few to shop for, and he always bought Bill the Techie a gift. Probably everyone did. Most likely, that old man had more junk than he knew what to do with. Now, back to San Fran before he heads home... there was a CD here from a local band he couldn't find anywhere else, and its one Marcy would enjoy. She used to date one of the band members or something like that. Lord knows, the woman could chat up a storm and keep going. That secured, it was now early morning and he casually walks along the beach front, unafraid of any of the riff raff moving along the shoreline, smiling over at the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance, dawn dancing on the water, cool breeze in his blonde hair.... mind on its own things*

*Katherine walked down to the Pier, looking for foreigners. They were more likely to buy her services. She soon found someone from Mexico trying to talk to someone from China. They weren't making much headway. One had wares to sell, the other wanted to buy, but they couldn't talk to each other. She smiled faintly to herself. "Just like home," she whispered. She walked up to them, then gently interrupted the pair. Spanish and Chinese were two languages she knew well. She offered to translate for them, for a fee of $10, five from each. They agreed, seeing the advantage here. Soon she was ten dollars richer and feeling a bit better. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad. She continues her wanderings, looking for more profit. Or, in other words, more people speaking different languages to each other. She's not paying much attention to where she is going, really, just walking. As she takes off her sweater, she bumps into a tall, blonde haired man. "Oh, excuse me." Manners always. It paid to have manners, literally.*

*a wide blink as he's walked into... reflexively he steadies her with careful hands, just grasping her shoulders a moment before letting her go instantly afterwards, and smiling* Hey, no problem. *young girl... way too young, but cute. She'd be a heartbreaker in a few years. He nods, blue eyes bright, and moves around her, heading the opposite way. Really, he had to start paying attention to where he was going... or she should have watched where he was going, either one. This whole wide beach and they ran into each other. Looks like they were both in their own little worlds. Another blink... he reaches back and checks for his wallet. Too much coincidence perhaps... he pats his rear pocket where the wallet should be, and curses under his breath as he realizes its gone. The girl... he turns slowly and watches her a moment, lets her get a few more steps ahead, and begins to follow, eyes narrowed*

*She smiles back, thinking nothing of it. "Thank you, sir. I hope you have a good day." She is very thin, but then what could you expect from someone who lived hand to mouth on the streets. She continues ambling along, seemingly with no rhyme or reason or anywhere to go. She pauses every now and then, looking around. She finds a couple of older Italians watching a puppet show. She walks up close enough behind them to hear their whispers as they wonder what is being said. She speaks softly to them in Italian, offering her services, which they accept. She stands there for a good while, translating softly. When the show is over, the husband hands her five dollars. She walks away from them, heading toward a drinking fountain. She whispers to herself, "If I can keep this up, maybe I can get enough to get a hotel room tonight and a meal. At least I ought to be able to get something to eat." Subconsciously, she notices that she is being followed, and she starts to blend in with the crowd, first tying her sweater around her waist, like several other girls have done…*

*Pole follows, being obvious about it, actually, or what a trained professional such as himself would consider obvious. If he really wanted to hide, to follow, he would /not/ be seen doing it, or sensed. He would use his holographic projector, link to the psibernary for psionic coverage, engage cloakinh shields... a hundred different things he was programmed for, had access to, or years of experience doing. He's treating her as a natural... its the only explanation. A young, natural street girl, slightly more cautious and paranoid than most, maybe possessing some small skill in the matter, but certainly not a threat to a Cyhunter, not when that cyhunter is `Pole. That her subconscious picks him up at all, even now, is quite good on her behalf, but that's fine... he pauses, hidden overtly when she stops to translate for the Italians. Cyberhearing enhances, zeros in, tightens... language programs translate lightning fast... he hears the entire play, in both languages, as if he were standing next to the trio, though is much to far away to even see the play. He's already, to keep hidden, locked onto her scent, had it broken down into a specific pheromone spectrum, one that is utterly unique from anyone else's, her own personal chemical signature, and is using it to follow her. So narrowly focused on the girl, he can follow her using such means without being in eyesight. Normally, even Scratch couldn't it from this distance, as scent breaks down quickly, especially this much space between the two, but Pole is a Cyhunter, he's more machine than man, and he has a few tricks to employ. Fortunately for Katherine, he isn't suspicious of her origins yet, for surely, she'd... she starts to blend into the crowd. By now Pole has gotten closer, he's in eyesight, but far back, lost among the other faces of the wakening, bustling city. Blend... subconscious or no, her unnatural powers engage to meet these ends. Her sweater goes about her waist... something pushes on the extremities of Pole's vision, knocks there, a little blinking red light. Frowning, he engages... alert... alert. It blinks on the inside of his cybernetic eyelid, he sees it against the darkness. A low, whispered, vehement curse. Pole shifts tactics... had he not been so intent on the girl he believed was a pickpocket, he'd never have noticed she was a RUNner... she really did pick the wrong man to bump into* :::Warpole, logging in. Identified RUNner, San Francisco. Target in, lock onto my coordinates. Scent spectrum transferring now. Need cross-refs on possible file matches:::*he sends it into the homebase, and a heartbeat later, his face has changed... his body has changed.... in midstride, no one noting, no one caring, he's become a lovely, but otherwise non-descript, woman in the crowd...*

*Katherine didn't know what was going on yet, she wasn't spooked…yet. She was feeling relaxed and good about things. But her subconscious continues its subterfuge. She changes her stride to match those around her, her whole stance changing. She stops gawking, just continues ambling, listening for other languages than English. This is all totally unconscious on her behalf. Slowly she looses her identity and becomes just one more face in the crowd, totally unremarkable. Almost to the point of not being there, or so it seems to those around her. She stops at the drinking fountain, takes a drink and wipes her mouth, then rejoins the stream of people, completely oblivious. In fact, the only two groups of people she fears are those who kidnapped her to bring her to San Francisco and the authorities. Other than that, she knew how to watch her step and not offend anyone. She started humming softly, a sign of her good mood… One that is matched by countless others in the crowd of this morning.*

*Her powers were impressive, Pole`s slender brows raise as, to that one organic eye, she blends slowly away, a chameleon. Very nice, and very useful. But his other eye is cybernetic, and engaged as such and those kinds of illusions, or whatever they are, mean nothing when the object isn't looking at the face, the stature, the clothing. He's a Cyhunter, and as so many times in the past, that infra-vision is engaged, switching one side of sight to a variety of unique swirling colored patterns... core temperature measured and filed, skin surface temperature readings taken and filed... he's latched onto her in the crowd even as his one eye loses her. That eye was a liability, but its his organic one, and there's little he can do about it. The other receptacles in his command are engaged. His image shimmers... fades... for all practical purposes, he's invisible. His Pole starts to vibrate in his hands as it powers up. wait for the readings... wait... HQ comes back with a negative. He'd identified an unknown RUNner. File commencing, scent spectrum added. He transfers back his other information immediately, the recorded memory of his organic eye, so that they have, on visual file, her ability to blend... its in two ways. How he remembers it and how his cybereye recorded it, which is to say she never vanished. Once done, he keeps sight of her, eyes never leaving his target and he leaps upward on cyberstrong legs, something out of a comic book, to land without sound on a ledge several feet above the crowd, a decorative facade. Its all he needs, and he half-trots along this, crouched low, invisible, altering for balance, catching up to her, getting closer... he gleans as much as he can in that time, starts to charge his Pole, energies keyed to her abilities, what he has so far, so that she won't be able to use her filed powers as a means to escape...*

*Katherine changes course without ever becoming consciously aware of being followed. She takes a few dollars of her money and gets a small sandwich and milkshake at one of the many one room serving kitchens in this area. She leans up against the side of the building, out of the way, and eats neatly, but very rapidly. She then drinks the milkshake and looks around for a public restroom. Idly she wonders at being so hungry. After all, it wasn't that long ago that she ate. She just shrugs it off as she sighs softly. "No bathroom anywhere in sight. I'll just have to wait." With that, she stands back up, balling the sandwich wrapper and disposing of her trash in a nearby trashcan. She then continues her walk, not looking over her shoulder or anything. Her subconscious decides that she is no longer being followed and she slowly bleeds back into her own identity as she walks, not ever even realizing what had happened.*

*Katherine`s pause to eat gives Pole all the time he needs to catch up to her. Still invisble, as it were, since a scrutinizing eye might discern the shifts in his background (yes, Like the Predator), but that was being covered by the psibernary, who was touching minds here and there if anyone noticed the waver in the structures as Pole moved. He pauses, leaping down to land a few feet from her, just far enough away to keep the wind from his landing from reaching her, his steps ever silent. As she turns to leave, he follows, a quiet sentinal just paces behind her, eyes fixed, his organic optics picking up her bleed back, her appearance again, and unseen, Pole smiles. He expects, but its only a hunch, that the display means she`s relaxed, no longer on guard, thinks she`s free from her tag-a-long. Psibernary carefully hides his shadow, and his pole is charged. Keyed for her alone. He doesn`t bother shielding. He`d like to wait for a clearing, but if she won`t move out of the crowd on her own, he`ll strike anyway... the psibernary can cover the fiasco...*

*Katherine wanders along, completely unsuspecting. She stops a few times, angling off toward someone speaking some other language than English, only to stop as the "problem" is worked out. She sighs deeply, already regretting the sandwich. "Looks like no bed tonight." She shakes her head, spying a public restroom in a very small park. She changes direction, heading for this, since she's been needing one for a while. And she needs a rest, having been walking since dawn with only that little nap to put between her and her recent hardships. When she reaches the bathroom, she enters and does her thing, washing her hands afterward. She stands there, drying her hands, looking into the mirror at herself, as if her reflection held the answers to her current problems.*