The angry, fossil-fuel-chomping roar of the black Escalade’s engine rumbles down the street, away from her. Alycia stands on the sidewalk, not watching it go.
The duffel over her right shoulder has her costume and kit; arrangements have been made (so long as she is an “agent in good standing,” fer Kartikeya’s sake) to make use of AEGIS facilities for significant maintenance, but she’s resolved to be as autonomous as possible.
The duffel over her left shoulder are her personal belongings. Clothing she’s been allocated. Toiletries. School supplies.
On her person are a few other items – wallet, mobile, a few weapons and gadget slipped here and there.
She still feels very unprepared for this.
It’s not too late, of course. She can run, right that moment. Forget the left duffel. Hell, forget the right duffel, it’s likely bugged and GPSed to a fare-thee-well. Some folding money in her pocket, she knows she can disappear, get out of town. Raid a cache or two she knows of (Parker et al. were very clear that he was to reveal every hiding place that Achilles Chin had material stashed or a safehouse established, but she was never actually asked about the hidey-holes of other individuals that her father, and thus she, knew the location of). Vanish from the face of the Earth.
Is your fear actually worth indulging. Is this really so terrifying?
When put like that, it seems silly. When she looks at the door … not quite so much.
It’s Monday. Presidents Day here in America. Government offices and a number of businesses are closed, including schools, which is why the dance could be on a Sunday. A holiday extolling a mediocre military man whose main claim to fame (and, truly, no small one) was his willingness to give up power, alongside praise for a president with a passion for maintaining territorial and political unity, with the originally unintended benefit of stopping the open ownership of chattel slaves, and who had no hesitation at doing away with civil liberties in the pursuit of his goals. It doesn’t seem an auspicious beginning for a venture of this sort – but, then, as far as most modern Americans are concerned, it’s merely a day to sleep in and spend money. Their heaven, in so many words.
She draws a deep breath. Steps forward. In short order, she’s ringing the bell and waiting for the change about to occur.
[The intent of this thread is to get Alycia moved in and kick off what happens next. Among other things, I have no idea how Bill has envisioned Applehack’s place – a stand-alone house, a floor in a brownstone, or what. I have a couple of things I want to touch on in the course of that, and anything you want to get done, Bill, is, of course, welcome as well.]
author: *** Dave H.