<b>Darion</b><br/><br/>"Huh." Kal grunted as another would be accomplice stood up. One with a gun. A solid DRZ-12 at that, not some street built cap gun on the brink of bust.<br/><br/>He turned his head toward the broad shouldered knife owner. "His is bigger." He gave a little nod toward Darion. "You know how to use that thing? Better question - do you know how to use that thing while you're being shot at?"<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><b>Valerie</b><br/><br/>Across the alley from the door into the bar was a relatively fresh artistic expression of spray paint. In a stark orange, its edges spattered, trails of over saturation bleeding down here and there, to the unknowing eye, it would be nothing but three numbers, innocuous and irrelevant. But in those three numbers rested the greatest mystery in the history of cyber-security and intrusion. 404.<br/><br/>The numbers had meant nothing for nearly a century. Their origin in the turn of the 21st century, the birth of the evolutionary ancestor of the neuronet. In those days, the days of the internet, it was an error code, one indicating that a destination in the net was not there, that it simply could not be found. As the systems and infrastructure evolved, the error code, and many like it were abandoned, the HTTP system it was a part of becoming obsolete in the ever evolving digital landscape. It, like so many things in human history became a relic.<br/><br/>That changed in 2109.<br/><br/>The event was given many names in the hacker community, and for years communities chased after meaning in 404 once more; The enigmatic handle, the name which had been responsible for erasing the most powerful corporate entity in the world in 3 hours. Abacus404. An identity which accomplished the impossible, and then simply disappeared. Runners and Neurojockeys dissected the event over and over again, stripping it down to every known line of code, every binary digit, searching for an answer. How was the hack accomplished? What method, what secret did this Abacus404 know that made it possible. New theories emerged every day, and with them the inevitable posers, the hacks carried out in the name of Abacus404 enacted within a wave of stand alone complexes.<br/><br/>But there was no answer, no secret hidden away waiting to be uncovered. The only one who knew ostensibly did not exist. The answer, could not be found.<br/><br/>The community quieted over the years, but never fell silent. The die hard fans lived on in chat rooms, never giving up their pursuit. They were the Cult of 404, a group among whom the figure had been deified. Occasionally in the dark corners of Pangu, you could find their work painted on walls, never abandoning the search.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><b>Nikki</b><br/><br/>"What do you mean, what's up with the get-up? Its badass its what's up with it. Punk assholes thinkin' to piss me off think twice is what's up."<br/><br/>One of the gang members up ahead looked back, and lifted his hands toward the man at the rear walking with Nikki. The scowl on his face indicated his disapproval of the woman being in such proximity to them. Skullface lifted his right arm and flipped him off, the glowing etching on his arm clarifying the sentiment.<br/><br/>"Some fuckin' people..." He muttered. "Can't even handle walkin' and talkin'. The fuck happened to just having a conversation?" He took another drag of purple smoke. "Some people... know what I'm sayin'?"<br/><br/>The group exited the large enclosed building, heading out into the street. The ground was wet, spattered with 'rain'; the result of a condenser or steam vent somewhere above  over saturating the air. The rain, like it always was in the Dreg, had an edge of foulness to it. Most in the Dreg just got used to it.<br/><br/>The array of structures lining the streets quickly turned residential, or what the Dreg referred to as residential. Down the way was an eight story complex on its own, on the edge of the cluster. It had a good view of a sizable expanse of open space. For those savvy, it was on the edge of the 156th lateral. A few highways criss-crossed it above, but otherwise it was just open space. Somewhere up there the roar of motorbikes echoed briefly and passed. On the edges of that expanse were a hundred thousand points of light from the buildings and structures rising up on either side, enclosing above. It was as close to stars as one got in the Dreg. Or sky, for that matter.<br/><br/>The building itself had a traditional chinese style to it. The roof jade colored roof was curved, ceramic tiled to look like a pagoda. At some point in time it was probably a nice place - whenever the fuck that was. At the corners of the roof were old busted dragon busts, cracked and broken now. Some exposed pipe hung haphazardly in the alley between it and the next building. Whatever its function was had ceased a long time ago. Now it was just a rusting cylinder streaked with oil.<br/><br/>"Home sweet home. You wanna hang around, we got some good stuff up there. Have our selves a party." Skullface gave her a grin, teeth in teeth. The others in the hang opened the front door to the place with a loud metal squeal. A light inside flickered against the peeling, streaked maroon walls.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>