Chapter Seventy-Seven - Casual Days I got home, showered, Saved, then got dressed in more casual clothes. The day had been pretty long, but I couldn’t say that I wasn’t proud of how things turned out. Two employees that would have been dead weren’t, and I didn’t look incompetent or too noticeable doing it. That was probably the ideal outcome. Once I was ready to head out, I checked out the Fortress ENE Marketplace site to confirm what I was looking for was available. It was. So, I grabbed one of the burner phones I’d bought, and plugged its battery back in while I walked out of the apartment. The first call wasn’t for that, though. Instead, I lowered my voice, trying to make myself sound more serious, more dangerous. The phone rang three times before someone picked up. “Hello?” came a man’s voice. “Hello, Doctor Baker,” I said. “You have a set of Atyacus model F1R3 cochlear implants in your inventory. I’d like to acquire them.” “How did you get this number?” he asked. In his defence, it was his private phone, and he seemed pretty good about keeping things separate. “Don’t concern yourself about that too much,” I said. “Take the implants. On Friday, you’ll deposit them in the women's washroom of the White Coffee Cafe on 6th street.” “Did you need me to repeat the instructions?” I asked. “That’s now how we do things,” he said. “I understand. Your payment will be information, delivered right now. The F-ENE PD has been aware of your operations for a while. They are planning a raid on your shop tomorrow afternoon. If you evacuate, subtly, you may be able to avoid spending a few years behind bars.” Baker paused for a moment. “Is this some sort of prank?” “No,” I said. “You’ve been warned. The price of that warning was outlined. The choice from here on is yours.” I hung up, then flicked the burner into a nearby trashcan. Grabbing my normal phone, I dialled in another number. This one answered a bit faster. “Ah, hello?” “Hi! You just put up a Slowbane 850 Dual Sport for sale today, was hoping to pop over and take a look at it.” The guy on the line was happy to let me come over. He lived in the outer edge of the city, a good ways away, but not that far off. I took a bus over. The area was pretty suburban, lots of homes squeezed in close together. The place with the bike was a nice little two-floor condo, with a garage at the back. The door was opened, and a thirty-something guy was standing there next to a bike. “Hey,” I said as I came over. “This is it?” “Hey, you the one who called? And yeah, this is it. Model 850, 250cc Slowbane.” I nodded, shook his hand firmly, then looked the bike over. It was a nice bike. All grey and black, with a set of bags at the back. The body was rather angular, with a square headlight at the front and a very motocross-y feel to it, though it was a bit bigger. There were some scuffs, though. It had obviously been dropped a couple of times. “Everything on this straight?” I asked as I knelt down in front and tried to see if it was all level. It looked it. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. “Yeah. Had a drop once, but it’s nothing much. Mostly kept it in shape,” he said. “Asking seven five for it.” “Yeah,” I said. “Six five, if you want a bank transfer. But I can go up to seven if you take cash.” He blinked, then worked his jaw. “Cash ain’t bad,” he said. I nodded along, then climbed up onto the bike and looked it over. It was pretty comfy. I liked that it wasn’t huge. It’d make it easier to navigate some parts of the city. “Nice feel to it,” I said. “Yeah. You got your insurance all lined up?” he asked. “Yeah, don’t worry about it,” I lied. I didn’t even have a license. I... was gonna get around to it. “Can I ride it around the block?” “If you pay for it,” he said. I laughed. “Alright. But if it’s fucked I’ll be taking the cash back,” I warned him. The trust turned out to be worth it. I got the bike started after handing him a wad of cash, and he showed me how to get it started properly. The bike had a nice rumble to it. I took off, riding down the street, turning the corner, then coming back around. It was a bit tighter on turns than that bike I’d used last time. Taller, too. Still, it felt alright, and I enjoyed going fast. I returned, thanked the guy, and we went over the transfer process which was nice enough. I just had to use my D-ranker ID and it got us past some of the bullshit paperwork, though I noticed him get a little nervous on seeing my rank. The first thing I did was race the bike over to a garage near the inner circle of the city. They were a little reluctant to help, until I slapped some cash onto the counter and played up the role of a clueless D-ranker girl who’d bought a bike for fun. They gave it a solid once-over. The brake pads would need changing, the oil was a little low, and the fuel ‘smelled old’ but otherwise the bike got their seal of approval. I Reloaded, which sucked because now I had to remember how I’d gone through everything, but I did get the guy to sell me the bike for 500 less after I got on it and started it up right away. I was able to spin a story about how I’d had a Slowbane 650 for a few years but had to sell it off. Once I had my new bike for the second time, I rode to a smaller garage and had them change the brake pads and run an oil change. The owner of the place complained about frayed wires and blinker fluid, but I just stared at him until he squirmed. No tips for that asshole. My last stop was at a sportswear place. Did I need a cool faux-leather jacket and biking helmet? No. Did I want one for the looks? Yeah. Biker chicks were hot. Plus, I bought some brand stickers and slapped them over the scratches in the paint. It looked good and hid the scratches. I rode the bike back home, going at more or less the legal limit, and when I passed by an F-ENE PD car they didn’t even glance at me. Arriving at the apartment, I found the parking spot that I’d been paying for (non-optionally) for years without ever using. Someone else had their scooter parked there, but I squeezed my bike in next to them. Damn... should have gotten better anti-theft shit. I’d have to make a Save overnight then check on it in the morning. Maybe I could park it somewhere safer? Whatever. I went up to my apartment, filled a bucket with water and found some old rags, then came down and cleaned the bike off of the dirt and grime that had collected on it. I cleaned it up, gushed about it a little with Misses Tone when she came out to see, and mostly felt pretty happy about how the day had gone overall. Tomorrow was going to be a pretty boring day. Nothing at work but training, but that was fine. When night rolled around, I locked the bike up as well as I could, then went up and slumped down in front of my pc. Another Save, because I didn’t want to waste the night. First, French, with a few breaks to look out the window through the night, to make sure that it wasn’t yoinked away. Then a Reload to practice my guitar-playing. I was... getting a bit better? I mean, it was probably only like... forty or fifty hours of practice over the last three weeks, but that was actually a fair amount, right? I skipped out on the spell-training for the night, since I was stretching out my magic as it was. Instead, I did a bit of research, looking up how to get a plate for my bike and how to get a license for myself. Like, I didn’t care that much. It wasn’t like I wouldn’t Reload if I crashed, but if it wasn’t too hard, then it was worth it. As it turned out, D-rankers and above had priority with a lot of bureaucratic nonsense. Patently unfair, and I planned on using that to my advantage. I could get the bike plated tomorrow afternoon, and then I’d need insurance and then... yeah, getting a license was a bit more complicated, but it wasn’t like I couldn’t cheat through the test, so I booked one for Friday. Then, I slumped into bed and slept like a happy babe.