Loaded down with loot, and a fresh kill under her belt, Tasìa was positively aglow in giddiness. She had shaken the apathy for the mission that came with the changes in the priorities of her life.

She jogged back to the copse of trees while strapping the bandolier, 50-Split, and holstered .357 Iconoclastic, only to jerk back out to the roadway, startled when she heard movement coming from behind the tree. Tasìa stumbled and fell on her bum.

The face of a skellabot poked from behind the tree. It threw a large branch out towards a ditch.

"Greetings, Ms. del Alma-Gris. It appears I have startled you. My apologies."

She stood up and brushed herself off.

"You are making a service call," She asked.

Our sensors showed that the Vespa was off from the road and had become obstructed from movement."

Her venture to the accident site only took twenty minutes. She didn't think her subversion would trigger a reaction so quickly.

"It appears," the skellabot continued. "The limbs fell and they lodged in place between these two trees."

Was the VEAA Automotive and Amenities Services AI being intentionally diplomatic?

"Yes. So, it appears," she agreed.

The skellabot paused and stared as if it waited for Tasìa to say something. After a moment it once more spoke.

"When I advised you of the protocol you could have requested a longer operational window if you felt more time was necessary."

She held her head to lean lopsided, and squinted back at the robotic servitor.

"Is this going on my permanent record?"

The Skellabot lifted the Vespa and set it back on the road.

"Your record was marked with a classification of 'mischievous' long ago."

The Skellabot handed Tasìa the bike helmet and sat on the front portion of the bike seat. It patted the slightly lifted attached segment of the seat to urge her to join it. Neither she nor the Skellabot took up much space.

Tasìa cocked her chin up.

"What is the next designation down from mischievous?"

"That would be 'willfully obstruent'. Believe me, you do not want that. An agent gets assigned to scrutinize your every request. If too many are deemed questionable the contract is then considered broached."

With a backward scoot, she made herself comfortable behind the skellabot. It's ribcage was conveniently placed for her to grip on.

With a motion suggesting the skellabot had done it a thousand times before, it kicked out the stand and revved up the engine.

Watching its motions, Tasìa thought of the fungi-based memory modules that modern robotic systems used for processing analog behavior.

The subject was fresh on her mind given her conversation with Leòn about what Demona needed in the reconstruction of her brain.

The skellabot craned its neck towards her.

"Hold on very tight," It warned.

It wasn't kidding. G-force jerked her back as they accelerated with her cheeks flapping from the wind sheer. She had to turn her head away.

What the hell?

The Vespa had a displayed limit of 80 km per hour. They were traveling nearly twice that?

Given the heat that swelled from the cylinders between her thighs and the aroma of jet fuel the vehicle now gave off, she was certain something out of the ordinary was going on.

"Ms. del Alma-Gris. Assuredly, you have noted the speed up. Just between the two of us, our line of vehicles are all equipped with a jet fuel mode that is meant for internal emergency use only. However, given your designation as being mischievous, I felt it appropriate to accommodate your disposition to ensure you remain a customer in good standing and our services are deemed satisfactory to your needs."

She chuckled to herself. She was now officially a 'naughty rascal', just shy of being designated an 'unscrupulous rogue' and being bountied for a deposit breach by her services and amenities club which, until that occurred, would offer her even better service accommodations than their more sedate clientele received.

In less than a minute, they pulled off the ramp that led to the salvage yard gate and cruised up to it. When the Vespa came to a stop, the skellabot studied the gate.

"Strange," it appraised. As it assessed their current situation.

"What," Tasìa asked, unsure what it was detecting that lay beyond her own augmented perception.

"The gate will not unlock. We have in our possession all necessary permissions. Someone or something has tampered with it."

Tasìa climbed off the Vespa and she did her own surveil of the situation. The wall around the facility stood six meters high. She could see into the interior where cars were stacked against a far wall opposite the gate.

Was the mammal still near the car? The visibility inside the walls was too limited to tell.

She asked the servitor Skellabot about it. "What of the mammal?"

"Currently, it's weight is distributed on large hind legs on the hood of your rental but it stands in an upright fashion. In spite of its body temperature, it's pulse rate appears healthy, albeit alarmingly high."

Tasìa glanced back at the skeletor; perhaps she was anthropomorphizing the robot, perhaps because its outside AI command receptors processed a second time through organic fungi it really possessed an essential self, either way it seemed anxious to get back to the Roadside Assistance Station.

Her protocol violations were apparently adding up.

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"To reiterate," she began. "I have all necessary permissions?"

"That is correct, within reason. You may retrieve your vehicle. If the non-human mammal turns out to be hostile, or even if it is unofficial property of the salvage yard, you may use force to remove it. Up to lethal force if it is required to prevent bodily harm."

"Excellent."

The Skellabot tapped the side of its head as if it just remembered something.

"One last thing. Given the unresolved nature of our service, I am required to have you authorize a relinquishment of VEAA Auto Services and Amenities in this matter, that is if you find the current service satisfactorily discharged."

She chuckled. The AI made a safe assumption that Tasìa was capable of and preferred dealing with the problem on the other side of the gate on her own terms, given her operative history and their own assessment of her psychological profile.

"Very well, sir. I relinquish that you have any further responsibility in our mutual affairs this evening."

The Skellabot nodded.

"Have a safe journey ahead, Ms. del Alma-Gris. Pleasure doing business."

It turned the Vesper around and zoomed back down the road.

As she gazed up, she made an assessment. Tasìa didn't trust the smoothness of the wall and gate that towered over her.

Too smooth. A proper wall has a charming set of crannies marring its surface.

She raised the PalmEx Personal Assistant, set it on the camera mode to process within the normal visual spectrum at eight times magnification. A splotch a few meters to the left of the gate caught her attention. Though now dry, its shape dripped from a center mass for well over a meter.

It was dried blood.

Tasìa swept the area on the wall from a position where she stood, standing a few meters from it. Not satisfied she was at the best angle of perception Tasìa backed up far, a good twenty meters, away with the camera trained on the splotch and then she slowly moved its focus to the edge corner of the wall and back again. The second time she swept the wall, another splotch near the North-West corner and near the top ledge of the wall revealed itself.

The camera did not detect it on the first sweep as the splotch was much more faded out than the first splotch had been.

Something lay directly below the splotch on the corner. Tasìa set the camera on it. Her heart broke for the once lovely thing.

It was a deep blue hyacinth macaw with its wings split into several sliced up segments. The PA's camera locked in on it. A cold read analysis surged down in a scroll on the PA.

Estimated time of death for subject - approximately 140 hours previously.

Cause of death - severe trauma due to blood drainage.

She ignored the info stream and instead she studied the wall with her eyes squinted.

Something embedded in the surface of it was vorpéd-level sharp. The smooth shred on the macaw wing was consistent with a diamond wire coating being applied.

She focused once more on the splotch. Tasìa flashed a laser-read ping against the surface where the macaw has smacked into it. The invisible rays emerged, scattered in a very much visible pink. She flashed the light on and off, and up and down the surface of the wall.

The light only scattered in the top two meters of the wall surface. Tasia had her answer. It was covered in razor diamond filament.

Anxious to get a move-on, she pocketed the PA and lifted the 50-Split up to her shoulder and riddled the treated surface with the explosive rounds.

With alarm hitting her gut, Tasìa quickly realized she needed to step back. The sharp filament rained down all around her, as she held her head down in anticipation of several lacerations.

But they did not come.

The material was snowflake soft, similarly so, as flakes landed softly on her jacket. She breathed out in relief.

But, of course.

It took pressure and kinetic energy for the sharpened micro surfaces to cause any lacerations. However, Tasìa knew she was not out of danger as of yet with this matter. Flakes of filament landed on her neck along her jugular.

Well, shit Tasìa, you may just die after all.

The thought shivered her spine and flushed her face red with fear. She calmed herself with controlled breathing; cool, detached Analytics mode took control.

The flake felt like rose bulb filament, also known in its refined form as itching powder. She had made non-lethal rounds for pellet guns with that very substance before, and, indeed, it could drive one mad with discomfort.

However, unlike razor diamond filament, rosebud linen couldn't bury deep into your dermis and potentially kill you. Tasìa cursed herself for not having the foresight to stand back farther. She expected big, heavy chunks of matted materials to break off and slide down the wall, not a fucking cloudburst of it.

That spoke of a less than durable design. The clang and clammer of common thunderbolts would have rendered the diamond razor defensive parameter useless.

So, what gives?

No matter the soundness of the exoneration she was giving her slip-up, it didn't mean jack shit, though. She could still potentially die if she made the wrong move.

Tasìa looked for a nearby shrub brush with branches that extended to shoulder length, and she found a grouping. She reached back in her pocket, raised up the PalmEx, flipped the camera to selfie mode, and secured the PA against a branch.

Craning at a side tilt, she maneuvered her head to get a decent view of her neck.

Yep. Aimed right at my jugular.

The stringy little fucker was well placed to end her life if it had cause to pinch into her skin. If she were to do something erratic like nod her head, or shake her noggin from side to side, it would dig in and sink into the vein.

Her first thought was to punt it with her fingernail, but the kinetic activity would likely leave her with a split fingernail, or worse. She raised her leg and grabbed the stiletto out of its boot inlayed sheath.

Careful to keep her neck stiff as she moved, Tasìa raised the blade to her neck with the flat of it pressed against the flesh and just below the razor filament; she kept pressing in until the filament fell into the edge surface of the knife.

Her flesh felt instant relief from the itch it caused. Though, she did not celebrate. There had to be other flakes of filament that fell on her. She could see some dusty groupings on her jacket's right shoulder.

There had to be some in her hair. She dared not brush it with her hands. Tasìa used the camera to capture her side, forward and down length views.

With nothing but clumps sighted, she finally relaxed. Given the vorpéd design of the bladed wire being layered in a sabre crescent, clumping meant the materials were rendered inert.

The process of removing the filament should prove simple. She found a taller tree in the copses nearby where she kicked her left calve up on a branch that stood chest high to her.

With a concerted effort, her body raised up with the leverage of her calve. Her right leg joined the left, and her body slid down slowly and deliberately until she gripped the limb with the back side of her knees.

Tasìa bent until she hung up side down, a meter off the ground. She shook her head furiously for a solid minute. She took the stiletto and shaved it over every inch of her leather jacket. Which caused a rip along one seam when it dinged against a loan sliver.

Alarmed that she missed it on the previous inspection, Tasìa glanced down and watched the sliver fall out of the seam.

Damn. That was close.

But to her relief, when she got the chance, she could easily epoxy the two sides together and no one would know the difference. Once she finally felt certain no filament remained to cause mishaps, she studied every inch of her clothing and jacket with her camera set to AI mode to find diamond razor.

The substance was not something to be fucked with lightly. Much like titanium, once ensconced beneath dermis, even if it did not severe arteries or veins, it tended to be sepsis prone.

Tasìa straightened out her outfit and tied her hair back as she once more gazed in a study of the wall.

The most boring wall I have ever seen.

She shined the laser up and down the path of much faded blood drippings once more. Only three places remained where the light scattered pink.

Tasìa stood back much farther, and shot the remaining diamond razor tiles out. As it showered the ground her face grew pensive in contemplation.

Now, how about the ground below?

Were her feet in her Veronica's safe trotting over the filament? She set her right boot's sole over a clump of filament, but stopped herself before she pressed it down.

Why take the risk?

She had no immediate replacements available in field for those boots.

A Quick Mart was a few kilometers down the highway nearer to the city interior but why suffer the inconvenience of a torn sole?

Tasìa aimed at the long thin branch on a shrub tree with the 50-Split. It dropped to the ground.

Damn. Her latest loot find was proving to be a useful tool.

She lay the branch down facing towards the wall, and considered how she would make the jump.

Easily done, Tasìa determined before she ran down the length of the branch on her booted toes and jumped on to the wall. She held on a second to get her grip locked. No deep grooved crannies made it a greater challenge but she understood the path up.

With a fierce scurry up the wall she made it to the top. When she peeked over she did not like what she spotted at all. On the beautiful engraved hood of the Lamborghini Huracán stood a junkyard kangaroo. He looked artificially jacked, drugged up, wiry as hell, and he stared back at her.