At his apartment, Achak finally begins to feel the malaise and depression of the Jazz lifting. He rights himself, then steps into the bathroom (the descriptor "water closet" was never so apt, given its size) to put the water pressure to the test. He sheds his full body armor and begins to scrub off the accumulated sweat and gunpowder. The shower is about as effective as stepping outside into the rain but at least the shower won't strip your skin with acid and/or expose your skin to whatever pollutants the factories of Puyallup are depositing into the local atmosphere.
Poking his head out the bathroom door, he sees that Sister Rebecca is still unconscious and recovering. Wearing little more than a towel wrapped around his waist, Achak steps into the outer room to rummage through the heap of duffel bags which are occupying the majority of the living room/bedroom/kitchen. He debates for a moment between opting for the more casual lined coat versus putting his suit back on. Meeting with Duncan. I should go for my Sunday best, he thinks, selecting the suit. He steps back into the bathroom and Mercer hears a lengthy series of thumps as Achak repeatedly bumps his hands, legs, and elbows into the walls of his bathroom (a true misnomer, as there is no bath nor is there any room). Achak emerges, his cleaned countenance and Vashon Island suit entirely incongruous with the surrounding safehouse.
He turns his attention to Sister Rebecca, who is beginning to stir. He mixes up some simple miso soup for her and it's not until he's trying to get her to sip some that he finally recognizes the extent of her injuries.
"You've been shot!" he exclaims, wondering how she managed that during a fight with an elemental. No matter; the bullets were being shared liberally. Just hard luck, he thinks. He examines the wound, as he does so he feels the slightest ache in his own shoulder. The location of her wound is exactly where I was hit... he thinks, slowly piecing things together. His mental horsepower is not his chief virtue, but even this is obvious for him to connect the two.
"You took it upon yourself!" he shouts indignantly, jumping back. He's inclined to slap her for her foolishness but refrains from doing so. "What profit is there in you being shot instead of me?!" he demands, his tone embarrassed and aggrieved. He covers his face in his hands. Too much time has passed, he thinks. It cannot be addressed with magic. Dog howls in his brain at the sacrifice which has been made for him. He punches his palm, frustrated at first that she would do such a thing, and second that he didn't notice in time to stop her.
A lo hecho, pecho, a calmer voice in his head tells him. It cannot be undone. He does his best to settle down as he continues to get ready for the evening meet.
When the time comes, Achak helps load everything into Mercer's Citymaster. He closes the door of his safehouse behind him and locks the two maglocks, doubtful that he'll see the inside again for many months, if ever again. He takes the passenger seat and uses the hour it takes to drive to Seattle General Hospital to talk with Mercer. He does his best to remedy any first impressions Mercer may have formed during Achak's interlude on Jazz, filling Mercer in on Achak's usual roles and responsibilities as well as Rebecca's brief history with the group.
"I know that there's competition amongst hunters," Achak says, "and that any day before today we would have seen each other as interfering with the other's bounty, but it seems to me like we got an opportunity to dust some Szechelys and do Stake a solid in the process. To that end I'm willing to follow your lead, jump when you say jump, and shoot when you say shoot."
They arrive at Seattle General and Achak, knowing that the MAD scanners with be deactivated as a courtesy, slips his Ares Crusader into the concealed holster in his Synergist suit. He always feels uncomfortable leaving his gunstock war club behind but, for inscrutable reasons of its own, polite society accepted firearms as a means of self-defense but not cudgels, truncheons, or bludgeons.
Inside, Achak shakes Duncan's hand, the mood subdued by Stake's demise. "Thank you for meeting us on short notice," Achak says before Duncan shares his offer for the painting.
Achak had a temper in his youth but has largely mastered it with maturity and religion. That same temper flares to life again as Duncan offers a sum equivalent to approximately one percent of the painting's value, by Achak's uneducated estimate.
Achak manages to control his roiling anger by holding his breath and looking down at the floor. His teenage self, the poor Amerind ganger who would have done anything for a score like this, wants to shout "ARE YOU TAKING THE PISS, YOU DODGY DANDY, YOU CHEEKY TOSSER."
That voice is quickly shouted (barked) down by Dog, who demands loyalty, not mercenary relationships.
"BUT TO WHOM SHOULD I BE LOYAL?" the teenage voice roars back. "Yohan is gone! Stake is dead! Sister Rebecca has my bullet wound! I am loyal to the grave, which is precisely where I've led them!"
Dog doesn't have much to say in return.
"I SHOULD STAY HERE, SELL THE PAINTING PROPERLY, AND USE IT TO REBUILD HOLY TRINITY (with certain considerations for myself) WHICH I ROYALLY FRAGGED UP TODAY. MARRY LOLA. SETTLE DOWN." Achak wonders if he could get eight figures for the painting. Deduct some for Duncan, deduct some for taxes, split four ways, he should still clear a couple million. That's enough to rebuild Holy Trinity and life a simple life on the residual income.
Again, Dog is quiet. Achak looks around and realizes that there is no one in this room whom he is particularly attached. Stake managed the relationship with Duncan. Achak has known Mercer and Sister Rebecca less than twenty-four hours. The only person Achak really cares about is the dead man hanging over the proceedings.
"There are things worse than death," Dog finally says to Achak's teenage self. "Like disloyalty. Disgrace."
"Oh, you sound like an oyabun. I'm not your divine wind, Mr. Emperor."
"Somethings are worth dying for," Dog says with gravitas.
"And anything worth dying for is certainly worth living for," the teenager retorts.
Adult Achak doesn't have the philosphical background or intellectual acuity to interject himself into his own debate. He does not particularly like his teenage self - part of the reason he left it behind - but nor can he refute the points that it is making. Given that he's in a doctor's office, he goes for the time-honored tradition of getting a second opinion.
"Apostle John, what should I do?" Achak prays. The good apostle is little more the a reworking of Dog with a different vocabulary, but to Achak the voices are distinct.
"Remember the parable of the talents," John advises. ("Which isn't even in the Gospel of John," Achak thinks to himself, wondering if his thoughts on the matter are private. ("They're not," John replies, "but stay focused.")) "A master puts his servants in charge of his goods while he is away. When he returns, he rewards the stewardship of the faithful, and the worthless slave is thrown into the outer darkness."
"That doesn't really help. Is the faithful path to rebuild Holy Trinity or is it to hunt down the enemies of God?" Achak asks.
The Apostle demurs, and retires to appear in a tortilla in Aztlan.
Achak sighs, having advanced little in his thinking. At last, he is forced to figure out what he wants to do. To that end, there are abominations out there hunting hunters. They did not kill Achak this time, but they will try again. In the meantime, they will kill and consume the innocent. Or the not-so-innocent, but the psychic blight will remain the same. Achak is good at what he does and it could be that the reward at the end will be so much greater than the one he now forfeits. He thinks of Matthew's words - "Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master." - and decides that is as good of a goal as any in the current drekheap of a situation.
Achak looks up to make eye contact with Duncan. Normally he feels a bit intimidated by the tall and eloquent elf, but with a fine suit and the faith in the Lord, Achak is the equal of any man.
"Thank you for your consideration, Duncan. We understand that liquidity is limited on such short notice.
"We also understand that such an offer provides you with enormous upside for personal profit. I'm certain a prize such as this could earn you the favor of someone very important, which you will no doubt leverage to your advantage. I do not fault you for it and would do the same in your position. However, in addition to fiscal compensation we must press upon you for favors of our own. Lesser than those you will receive, certainly, just as our compensation is lesser than what you will achieve.
"In addition to Queen Anne, you keep offices in Tokyo and Manhattan. We would ask you to arrange for the proper clearances for us to travel safely both to Manhattan and around the city itself. We need travel arrangements, including our armaments and Mercer's vehicle. I am not well-versed in the security protocols of the destination but I understand they are ... thorough. We need the appropriate color pass-cards, either legitimate or forged to an adequate quality. We may pose as private contractors of yours or any other cover you believe will be suitable. I defer to your judgement.
"We also need lodging for our stay, something discrete and suited to our position. As none of us have been before, we would also benefit from a local guide. A decker or a technomancer who can provide local expertise, hacking services, and Matrix overwatch. We would appreciate it if this introduction could be made in advance so that we might enlist them to help decrypt the plans of the men who tried to kill us earlier today.
"Finally, depending on the timing of our travel arrangements, we may need to impose upon you to help redeem the bounties we recovered last night. The local offices do not open until tomorrow and if we are able to leave before then we would appreciate someone who would claim the bounties on our behalf and forward us the proceeds, minus a reasonable transaction fee for their services."
Achak finally falls silent, hoping that he hasn't overwhelmed Duncan with a list of unexpected demands. Even if he has, maybe the daydreaming Duncan is doing about the CEOs he is going to call with this little piece in his hot hands will keep him in a generous spirit.
