There was a sharp rap on the door. In unison, all occupants shoved their cards away - gambling wasn't explicitly forbidden in Tacoma, but it was still frowned upon. Belinda gave her guests a reassuring look, got up, and headed for the door. Fortunately, she had resisted the urge to light a blunt in her room - the stank was hard to get out. One last look around, and she opened the door.

"Belinda! Wonderful. Do you have a minute?" Three-Piece-Suit didn't wait for her to answer before making for her to follow and heading back down the corridor. His bodyguard was still standing beside the door, her face completely serious and not betraying their last encounter, cornrows tucked neatly away. Berry hesitated at the door.

"Why, am I in trouble for something?" She was raking her head for a reason. Hidden gun? Gambling? Being nice? The two guys behind her were peeking out. Man, and she had been looking forward to `spending time' with them . . .

"Oh, no, not that. You could say it's quite the opposite, in fact! Come on, let's go have a chat." Belinda hesitantly left her room, throwing a glance at the still blank-faced Rae and heading down the corridor. The bodyguard casually entered her room and closed the door behind itself. A distracted part of Belinda's mind noted that she wasn't wearing her gloves. Cage's shoes were still clicking further down the corridor, and she had to jog to catch up.

"You're not going to just make this easy and tell me what your deal is now, are you?"

"It's an important decision, my dear Berry, and I want to make right by it." He glanced back and looked her over. "Well, you are underdressed, as usual, but it'll have to do."

"Oh, am I getting my first suit?" She made a show of dusting off her patched leather jacket. "Man, I was starting to think there was something off about this one. Maybe I stitched the patches wrong?"

"This is about more than just a suit, Berry. Though, that is a part of it." Click-clack-click. Even his shoes were spotless. Why did he always keep that clean? Her mind was starting to catch up. "Where are we going?"

"Conference rooms, ground floor. We have a radio set up." Sharp turn, and into the elevator. Her mind hesitated at the idea of being stuck with him in a closed-off space, but she walked in before her body could catch up to the idea. Suave as ever, he punched in the ground floor. There was something joyous about him, like a kid that was going to open a present. Or a dog that noticed a rabbit over the fence.

"Well, this is as private as it's gonna get, Cage. What great confession have you for me?" Her room was six floors below ground, she noted to herself.

"A gift, actually. Though, if you accept, some explanations are in order as well, I suppose."

"And it's not even my birthday yet! What is it, a jacket pin? Fancy cologne? Expensive drugs?"

"The latter."

She did a double take, taken off guard by his lack of hesitation. He kept staring at her with a casual smile, waiting for her to continue.

Five floors left.

"Wait. You bought me drugs. As a gift. You can't even stand cigarette smoke."

"Put simply, yes, we brought you drugs. As a gift. And no, I don't."

Lidocaine, she thought idly. Rohypnol. "And put . . . perspicuitously? Why?" She had to think for a moment for a sufficiently long and uncommon word. She was talking to a white guy, after all.

"Consider it an initiation ritual into a more elite group than . . . well, pretty much everyone we know you to be allied with right now."

She had to think for a moment. Or at least pretend to. Three floors.

"Yeah, you did always give me creepy fratboy stalker vibes. I'm surprised you allow women, now." She ruffled her jacket, flashing him casually. The guy didn't even flinch.

"Please, we don't care about such frivolous details. You've met my bodyguard, you've seen what she can do. What we all can."

Well, at least it wasn't white supremacy again. Just in case, she leaned back a tiny bit, just enough to make sure she could quickly reach into her jacket if she needed to. "Cage, are you a Raider rat?"

"The Hell Raiders?" He laughed, more for the principle of it. Something long and metal shook inside his suit, perfectly obscured had she not been looking out for it. "Only in their wildest dreams. No, I'm not. Though, you could definitely say that Locklear and I have a rather . . . `mixed' allegiance. Consider us `on loan' to Tacoma. Don't worry, it's cleared with anyone who needs to know."

"So who do you work for, exactly?" One floor left. Keep him busy.

"Well, that is a somewhat complicated topic. Suffice to say that you are one of the rare few that are given the chance to find out."

"And if I don't?" One floor.

"Well, if not . . ." He reached towards his pocket. Like a jack in a box, she flicked out her gun, pointed at his face and shot with a single smooth motion. In a single loud instant, his suave manners and his cleaned-up eyebrow became red coating on the elevator, not unlike the zeds on her windshield a couple days ago.

And just like them, he too refused to drop.

The door behind her dinged happily and blissfully unaware of all that transpired. The blood rushing into her ears like a torrent, Belinda turned and ran out as soon as it opened, pelting down the corridor and towards the hangar - once again missing Rae as she was just walking up to the elevator, casually wiping her hands with a rag.

". . . I heard a gunshot."

A groan responded from inside. Cage, shambling out, his handkerchief too small to patch up the gaping hole in his cheek.

"Get her," he growled. His bodyguard tossed the bloodied rag aside and sprinted down the corridor, an unrestrained, maddening grin on her face.

The hunt was on.