Impatiently, the tech's boots scraped against asphalt.

"What are you looking for," Birddog asked.

Elise smiled jaundiced.

"Give me a moment."

She told del Alma-Gris they would radio-silence their operation as not to distract the crows until the thief egressed from the premises.

That gave Birddog nothing to do after they watched the thief flex her cat burglar talents crawling up the Densidad ProActiva building wall and along its girders to reach a side duct where she disappeared from their view.

They leaned against the van together. Neither Elise nor the tech smoked but it still smelled of the French cigarettes that the thief had burned through as they hashed out what each party needed to do before they met again in two days time.

Elise chuckled to herself recalling Birddog's writhing discomfort with the thief's smoking.

"What," del Alma-Gris finally asked with a steely gaze set on Birddog.

"Aren't you concerned about cancer?"

The thief puffed out a twirling maelstrom of smoke with an accompanying shrug whose shoulder movement caused her back to crack quite noticeably.

Once readjusted, she smiled at the tech.

"I've got a machine for that."

"Birddog, did you notice that del Alma-Gris cracked her spine every few minutes? That means she lay in wait for us for that hour in a very uncomfortable spot. We find that spot, we would likely find any effects that she left behind to gather up later. I'm very curious about what she is doing here."

Birddog explained to her earlier in the afternoon over lunch what ProActiva created within the manufacturing part of the facility. A substance they called fingunt, a fungi crystal that held metadata. That being directive information embedded within the bodies of machines.

The engineering exploited the dense integration of data and physical medium to create things that in previous generations were not possible. Even her gorgeous new watch manufactured in Switzerland contained the kind of meta structures that were assembled as raw materials in the form of the fingunt.

Her eyes turned back towards the manufacturing facility. Pretty clouds of a slightly unnatural pearlescent steam bellowed out.

The thief insisted that she had to hit the plant before the manufacturer shut down to get what she needed.

Maybe del Alma-Gris plans to build something with the samples she nabs out of there.

Elise blinked in annoyance that her speculation was interrupted by something catching her attention out of the corner of her eye.

Her companion was growing increasingly animated. Birddog's head bobbed about in a pattern as she scanned the nearby area for del Alma-Gris' potential hiding spot.

Though irritated, Elise kept her mouth shut and her expression impassive even as the tech's actions were quite hilarious to watch and the bounty hunter did indeed encourage Birddog to get involved.

Fiona earned her nickname Birddog due to her hypersensitive senses that she considered a curse in her youth but she refined in her adult profession into exceedingly effective detective skills.

"Over there!" The tech yelled.

Birddog snatched at Elise's jacket with a tug, let it loose, and with a brisk stride, headed for the row of trees.

Elise walked cautiously behind. She adjusted her bio-mechanical eye's register to infrared before she searched for the crows. An assortment of several other avian species, including a very nasty bat nearby, became marked for her by the PA's AI assist.

Not a single crow did it register.

"Hold up," Elise yelled out to the tech, concerned hyperactivity would set off the bat. "You've got to be more careful."

Several young skateboarders were taking advantage of the low traffic and the side street course dips nearby the row of trees.

Birddog ignored her warning; she was in the mode. She grabbed on a limb and pulled up.

"Damn it, Fiona, listen to me!"

A burglar with well-practiced trade craft could avoid both the ferrel critters and the attention of nearby pedestrians but neither Birddog nor Elise were the stealthy type in the least.

She had a very good scout on her team, Humberto, a Ranger, but he was busy with another assignment.

Humberto was also another American, one of three on her team.

Given Kutuzov's infamous history there, well qualified mercs from the States sought her out to be recruited quite regularly since it was she who brought Major Ebbentrov, the Butcher of East St. Louis, to justice.

Birddog reached for another limb and almost lost balance. She struggled for several seconds before hugging the trunk and sliding her ample buttocks down to the lower limb.

"Fiona, don't you dare move!" Elise yelled.

Indeed, a couple of the skateboarders watched the tech flail about, amusedly. A tall, skinny teenaged lad noticed Elise watching them.

"You need a hand? Climbing that would be nothing for me."

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Just as Elise waved him off, Birddog yelled back to him, "If you don't mind. There is a fanny pack up here out of my reach."

Fanny pack?

Del Alma-Gris was wearing one on her when they met but Elise assessed it was empty and the thief was going to use it to store whatever she was here to loot.

The thief was known for wearing one that carried multi-tools and ammo clips on her heists. That is why Elise assumed there had to be a nearby cache.

The skateboarder glided over to the curb nearest the tree, popped the board up in his hands, and tossed it in the grass.

Then something whooshed by Elise's eyes, forcing her to blink. A horrible staccato noise ripped the air, and opening her eyes, the skateboarder was missing an ear.

Birddog screamed in unholy terror, "Santa Muerta! Santa Muerta!"

Damn nasty bat!

It was arching back their way.

Elise dropped, planting her knees to the ground, anticipating the arch of descent, she emptied all six rounds in a tight lock.

The bat slipped by as it crested over the projectile array. She rolled, popped another moonclip in to the chamber, and searched for the wingéd demon.

Birddog screeched an inhuman pitch as it made feints along her head and back. She dropped on the writhing figure beneath her. With his breath knocked out entirely, he made dreadful gasping noises.

"Birddog, you fucking asshole," Elise screamed in frustration.

She tracked the bat once more but if her next shot went wild it had a good chance of hitting one of the skateboarders who stood by watching with what appeared to be equal parts youthful morbid curiosity and fight or flight paralysis.

"Get down," she yelled at them.

The bat circled around and flew straight at her. She emptied another six rounds, none hit. Before it could bite her, Elise thrust her elbow into it.

It did not even screech as it bounced off of her jacket and shot straight up.

Holy shit!

Elise was a very good shot, yet she missed for twelve attempts now. One more moonclip was all she carried in an interior jacket pouch, she reloaded the 10mm Magellani Terra Bruciata Revolver, and dashed towards the wounded teenager.

He wasn't breathing, and Birddog was rolling on the ground and holding her knee like she may have broken something.

The bat made a feint for Elise's head, and popped off her wool felt hat. She ignored it and dove towards the lad. Scrambling to her knees, Elise grabbed him by his underarms and positioned him so she could straddle over him.

His eyes bulged, his skin paled, and the arteries in his neck thumped dangerously huge. Elise took a deep breath, locked lips, and blew it all into his throat.

She repeated herself twice before the bat screeched above her. Elise got a good look at the bat's oddly deformed bodice as it angled to attack. She side swiped a boot kick into it and the bat got punted in the grass.

Once more, it flew off.

Elise twisted back around, and was relieved to see the tall, skinny lad was breathing on his own. But he was bleeding profusely.

All of her medical supplies were back in the van.

"Fiona Caza," Elise said in as formal a tone as she could muster under the circumstances. "Can you get up?"

The tech looked up into the trees. Her eyes bulged sheet white in terror.

"I don't think I should."

Elise yelled, "we've got to get this gentleman - what's your name, hon?"

"Gertrod."

Odd name. Vaguely Eastern European it sounded to her ears, but he appeared of indigenous stock.

Then again, Elise was from a town sharing space on the Paraguay and Argentine border where Spanish and German protestants commingled. Her own name reflected that.

She turned back to Birddog.

"We've got to get him to the van. Lean against that tree, and try to get up. We have to know how bad you are hurt. I'll try to cover you."

Fiona's eyes grew wet with tears as she responded slowly.

What the hell was I thinking?

Elise was rethinking the relationship.

Fourteen years my junior and a level of maturity that suggested stunted growth.

"I'm so scared," Fiona cried.

Elise needed to put her anger to the side to get things back under control.

"Come on, Birddog, you can do this. This man needs our help."

"I'm so sorry I fucked everything up."

The tech looked at the side of Gertrod's face where the remains of his ear hung against his cheek with a guilt ridden scowl.

"Stand up, Sweety. I've got you covered."

Elise faced the opposite direction so she could spot any movement. Perhaps her booted-up roundhouse kick scared the bat away but Elise doubted it.

She heard a crack, and Birddog let out a howl. Elise risked a glance. The tech was still standing.

"Okay," she said. "I'm okay. It just popped back in place."

"Try to walk it a bit," Elise suggested, "semi-arcs around the tree so I can keep you covered."

Gertrod was now on his knees up erect, holding his ear. If he sprinted, it would hasten the blood loss.

Elise pondered their next move when the bat screeched abruptly, tearing into every sense in Elise's body. It even set her nose off in a fit of hives. Birdog leaned against the tree and she gnashed her teeth together. Her face squinched ugly.

Elise had to kill the thing before it drove all three mad. She stood up, but as she did so she heard a whoosh.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

It seemed set like a Baroque counter-melody to the mad screeching of the bat.

Elise felt a feint wind against her forehead. She understood. It had to be the captain of the murder, Mel.

As soon as she heard rustling noise disturb the branches of one tree to their North she heard a loud 'cah!' come from the opposite tree to their South.

A loud smack broke the air near directly above her head where Mel and the bat collided. The bat hovered for a moment in an attempt to regain its senses.

It gave Elise enough time to put two bullets in it.

It dropped to the ground, and on sight of it, she gasped.

"What the fuck," both Gertrod and Birddog yelled.

The bat was a necrotic thing, blackened midnight purple in calloused scales across its entire surface. Its head appeared mishapened into demonic appearing contortions.

A soft 'cah' came from the limb behind her, the one that caused Fiona so much trouble. Mel set on it. His cochlear implant glowed green.

Someone wanted to speak with her.

"Birddog, take Gertrod to the van. Do what you can to patch him up. I'll be over to finish it up shortly."

Fiona lead the youth away. Elise's PA tingled. She pulled it out, accepted the transmission and put Sachmilli Cuervo in holographic mode.

She recognized Gael-Sebastian's father instantly.

He sat squat leggéd.

"Thank you, Senor Cuervo. We were at a great disadvantage."

He bowed his head.

She synced her bio-mechanical iris to record the dead bat in a full array data stream.

"Would you know what that thing is?"

Sachmilli nodded.

"Indeed I do. It is being ghulified through being forced to consume the livers of humans with the Manifest disorder. Which is pretty much all of us."

Elise squinched her face in disgust.

"Why would anyone do that?"

Sachmilli smiled.

"If you get that specimen mailed to me, not only will I be much obliged to you I will give in return my full databank on the matter."

She nodded. "Fair enough."

Sachmilli suddenly appeared coy-eyed, and he frowned.

"There is another matter," she asked.

The old, retired entrepreneur dressed in a simple robe. She saw in the bed behind him the nude figure of a red-haired beauty sleeping.

Her rump faced the projection and Elise's heart danced a bit. Even in her native Pueblo Alemán red hair was a rare occurrence.

She forced her eyes back to Sachmilli.

"My son. How is he?"

"Not doing well at all. If neither you nor del Alma-Gris intervene he'll be dead before the end of the season."

He shook his head.

"When we intervene, he accelerates. Debases his body with new gadgetry, new ways to fuse the shit into his soul."

Elise looked onward, plaintively.

"The two of you need to figure out how to get passed that imposition. If that is all, I've got a major wound on that youth to tend to. Again, much obliged."

Sachmilli nodded, and turned off his receiver. She put her PA back in its pocket fold as she stood back up.

Mel gave her a wane 'cah' that meant 'good bye.' He floated up to the higher branch, snatched the fanny pack, and flew off.

"Don't trust me, I see."

As Elise walked back to the van, she thought about the conversation she just had.

The two of you need to figure out how to get passed that imposition. If that is all, I've got a major wound on that youth to tend to. Again, much obliged.

Who was she kidding. Given her hero complex, Gael-Sebastian's bullshit was now her problem too.