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Lawrence and Neal stepped out of the autocab in front of a converted warehouse with the name "Moreytown" painted in claw-like streaks that would glow at night. The ostensibly self-driving car, with Chimera's face displayed on the interior screen, pulled away to reenter its fare-seeking patrol route without any knowledge it'd ever left.

Lawrence had had to work that morning, and it was hell. He'd gotten there a little early, and all he could do was just buckle down and force himself to focus on work so he wouldn't have to think about just... everything else. The fact that he was wearing a generic set of clean clothes from a safe house didn't help. It worked out, though -- he'd made enough progress that Mr. Grant let him take off a couple of hours early. That gave him plenty of time to get a ride with Chimera and Neal to the first of the errands they needed to run for their quest to get a body made.

Neal's fur was set to a cougar-like, tawny coloration, and he wore a pair of baggy shorts and an open shirt. Despite the casual dress, his attitude seemed all-business. He spent most of the ride in a private subvocalized conversation with someone. He was probably just talking to Chimera, but a subtle shift in his body language worried Lawrence.

The afternoon sun shone down on them, provoking a squint from both of the morphs. The building ahead seemed quiet, as one would expect from a nightlife hot spot during the day. But even if the place wasn't jumping, Lawrence knew someone would be inside.

He strolled in the main entrance with his not-quite bodyguard behind him, trying to look casual. The inside was darker than the outside, of course, but the house lights were on as employees moved around. Morphs cleaned up the dance floor and hauled cases of beverages around the inside of the building, preparing it for the coming weekend. The place smelled like alcohol, cleaning chemicals, and the sometimes-fuzzy line between them. Cheap screens on the wall displayed a digital poster for upcoming acts and events:

Friday -- Garrett!

Saturday -- DJ Laser-Snail

Sunday -- Sonic Reptilian Unicorn

Next weekend: Swann Clinic Benefit, lineup TBA

...and so forth.

A middle-aged human woman with sepia skin and curly hair tightly tied back leaned against the bar, going over something on a tablet. She wore a plain t-shirt and jeans, nothing too fancy, but she stood out for being the only human in the room -- likely the only one in the building. She tapped at the screen and gestured over the tablet, a signature appearing on a form, before she folded the tablet up into fourths and set it on the bar.

"Dr. Banks, can we have a moment?" Lawrence asked as he approached. She looked up at him and recognition flickered across her face for a moment until she spotted Neal behind him, and then frowned.

"Larry Murphy, right?" she asked. "Tom Briscoe's friend."

"Yeah." He resisted the urge to correct her. "I know it's been a while, and I hate to turn up out of the blue like this, but I wanted to talk to you about something important. Are we good to talk here?"

"We can talk in the back office, if you need privacy."

Lawrence considered a moment, resisting the urge to look back at Neal -- though he subconsciously flicked an ear towards the cat mercenary. He didn't want her to feel trapped, and to be honest he still wasn't entirely sure there wasn't going to be some double-cross the moment they got her alone.

"I'd rather talk out here for now, I think," the fox said.

Dr. Banks looked around. No employees were close by, and those who were in the room certainly weren't paying attention. She gave Lawrence and Neal a questioning look before popping behind the bar and pouring a soda.

"That's fine, just make this quick if you can, I've got a club and a clinic to run."

"Great." Lawrence rubbed his hands together and turned to Neal. "First off, this is Dr. Dorothy Banks." He gestured to the human. "She runs the Swann Clinic, and is probably the best street doc in the city. She's got her own bodyswap tank here in the back of the club."

"Why is it in the club if she runs a clinic?" Neal asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Lawrence realized he didn't know the answer to that and glanced at her.

"The equipment needs more space and power than you can get in a rented building in the middle of the city," she explained as she sipped her soda. "But I appreciate the intro, Larry. And your friend here is...?"

"Marc Lockley," Neal said without missing a beat as he shook her hand. "Pleased to meet you, Doctor Banks. I represent someone that Larry's been working with on a project, and we think you can help."

"Dorothy. And what project would that be?"

"Short version..." Lawrence glanced nervously at Neal and then at the doctor. He hadn't expected Neal's alias, though he shouldn't have been surprised. For all he knew, that was his real name and 'Neal' was the alias. "Would it be possible to build a body wholecloth with a bodyswap tank? Assuming we could get you whatever ingredients and resources you need, would you have the equipment for that?"

"Assuming you're talking about making a whole, intact body, and not just for growing organs or something... I mean, you could. Mostly."

"Mostly?" Neal asked.

"Aside from all of the ethics issues with creating a living body from biopaste, one that likely wouldn't have any sort of mind or consciousness -- I mean, maybe if you're lucky, it might grow one like a child, I guess."

"Aside from all that," Neal conceded.

"We can't physically grow a functioning brain. I mean, the technology might exist for it somewhere, but I don't have the means to make a chunk of brain matter in the right shape, size, or capacity for developing proper neural pathways. But even if you could do all that, what sort of time frame are you looking at for what I'm increasingly hoping is a thought experiment?"

"How much time would it take?" Neal asked.

She sighed and thought a moment.

"Well, I mean, you'd need more than the tank, but I'd have that covered one way or another. But the physical body itself, if I had all of the material I'd need, you could probably grow in a month with my equipment. Give or take." She stopped and did some mental math. "Let's say three to six weeks, depending on a couple of factors."

"That doesn't sound too bad for what we're talking about," Lawrence said, looking at Neal but having trouble reading his expression.

"But then there's the brain issue," the mercenary said, expectantly.

"Right. Long story short, you can't just... print a brain in a functioning configuration. You'd have to grow it over time if it's going to be able to sustain basic autonomous functions, let alone develop a proper mind. It might be possible to try on paper, but I don't think I can imagine a reason for doing that that I would feel comfortable with. No matter how much you pay."

"How long would it take, if you could do it?" Neal asked, provoking a look from both Lawrence and the doctor.

"Who the hell is this guy, Larry?" she asked.

"Just go with us on this," the fox said. "Because I think in a minute or two we're going to have to tell you the whole story anyways."

Dorothy huffed. "Back of the envelope calculation, it could take months. Months to develop a brain to the point where it could pilot the body. But even then, you'd have the world's biggest toddler. You'd have to teach it everything, because we're not at the point of uploading consciousness or anything into a brain, unless... unless you know something you really should be telling me."

Lawrence shot a nervous look at a stone-faced, thoughtful Neal.

"We're at the point we should continue this in your office," Neal said after a second.

* * *

"So even if I believe that you are what you say you are, how does that help us with the brain issue?"

Dorothy addressed a tablet, displaying Chimera's rendered face, propped up next to an inexpensive computer on an industrial metal desk. An old-fashioned metal filing cabinet leaned against the wall in the corner and slightly mismatched chairs sat on either side of the desk. Lawrence and Neal sat across from her, while she thoughtfully paced behind it.

"NUBio's been growing mostly-viable brains for a few years," Chimera explained. "It's not instant, but they can do it with the right equipment. It's where I came from."

"Yeah, but your brain is half-electronic," she said. "I'm not sure I'd know where to start growing something like that for you, even if I knew I had the equipment to get..." She gestured to the screen. "...you in there."

"Oh, shit," Lawrence gasped.

Everyone looked at him. He stepped up to Dorothy's desk and turned the tablet around to face him.

"That's what you wanted them for, I'm so stupid!" he said.

Chimera nodded. "I was wondering when you were going to figure it out."

"Figure what out?" Dorothy asked.

"My company designed a process to install cybernetic implants using a bodyswap tank. It's unwieldy, but it works, and Chimera was trying to get the plans for that." He focused on the tablet now. "And this is why. This is to get one of NUBio's custom-built brains into your new body, isn't it?"

"Pretty much." The face on the tablet nodded. "Though honestly, you could say that about almost everything I've done since finding a way out of NUBio's servers."

"So wait," Dorothy asked, sitting down in her chair and turning the tablet back around to face her. "You're saying that NUBio would have the technology to get you into a physical brain which you want us to put into a custom-grown body?"

"We'd need a way to get it, and for your own safety I'd want to keep you as far away from that as possible. But yes. There's a few different ways this could play out, but we would be able to handle the brain problem. But before we go any further, I need to know: Do you feel comfortable doing this? There's no pressure, doctor, and if you say 'no' then we'll just part ways here. No harm, no foul, thank you for your time and discretion."

The doctor nodded and sat down as she thought about that for almost a full minute.

"If I agree to this, what would you need me to do?" she asked.

"Draw up a list of what materials you would need to start crafting a body. I can get you money for the stuff you can buy through your suppliers while we handle the legwork of materials unavailable through traditional channels."

"You mean stealing?" she asked.

"Preferably not," Chimera quickly said. "I just mean if someone has to go through back channels and talk to shady people in person, we can arrange that so you don't have to. Also, I'd ask you to get started on the preliminaries as soon as possible. Printing the skeleton and such. Anything you can do with the materials you have on-hand. Leave the brain stuff up to us."

She nodded and thought about that.

"I'm sure you'd like me to start as soon as possible, but I want a day or two to think it over," she said. "I'm leaning towards 'yes,' but I want to crunch some numbers and see if I can do this at all. Especially since if I do it, it's going to tie up the tank and the bone printer for a while."

"I understand. Thank you for your time, Dr. Banks. I just emailed you some contact info. If you're in, reply with a list of supplies and an account number. I'll get you the first payment and the DNA profile and we can get to it. In case it needs to be said, you will be properly compensated. I don't expect you to do this at cost."

"Well, this is normally the part where I'd be expected to say something like 'If I do this, it's not for the money,'" she said with a wry smile. "But while I'm not in it for profit, running a street clinic isn't cheap, and if you're here you know how I work. The people who can pay extra do so for the people who can't, because bodyswapping, gene mods, and the rest are expensive. So yeah. I'm gonna be properly compensated."

"I understand and respect that," Chimera said. "I'm not going to pretend I can write a blank check, but I do have resources and I don't spend much on rent or food. We'll be in touch."

The tablet switched off and without needing to be told Neal folded it up to tuck into his pocket. He nodded to Dorothy and turned to leave. Lawrence, who'd remained mostly quiet after his earlier outburst, got up to follow.

"Larry?" she asked.

"Yeah?"

"What the hell have you gotten me into?"

"I wish I had a great idea of that, myself," he said with an apologetic smile before following Neal out.

* * *

A Chimera-commandeered autocab waited for them when they reached the parking lot, and they wordlessly got in. Lawrence picked up his own scent and realized it was the same car from earlier. Neal's scent wasn't as strong, likely one of his various modifications, though spending the night in close quarters with him made it recognizable. Some autocabs automatically deoderized themselves, but this wasn't one of them.

As they approached the safe house, the car looped around the neighborhood to make sure they weren't being followed. They sat in silence until the fox's disposable phone started ringing and he jumped with surprise. He'd honestly forgotten that he still had the cardboard-cased throwaway phone. The number was Tom's.

"Everything okay?" he asked as he put it on speaker.

"Oh, I'm having a lovely day, and you?" answered a voice he didn't recognize.

Lawrence sat up so quickly his ears brushed the ceiling. Neal picked up on his reaction and sat at attention. The voice sounded male, probably not too much older than Lawrence himself, and had no discernible accent. Lawrence was pretty sure this guy was human, as a canid's sharp ears could identify someone talking with a muzzle.

"Who the fuck is this?" Lawrence tried to keep his voice steady. "How'd you get this number, and how'd you get the phone you're calling from?"

"Your second and third questions aren't really relevant to this conversation--"

"They're very goddamn relevant--"

"--but my name is Phil Scranton. I work for NUBio Research's Asset Management division. Mind putting me on video? Make this a little more friendly?"

A video request came through. Neal immediately shook his head at the idea, but Lawrence angled the phone so the camera would only see him and accepted the request. A human man with a thin face and sharp cheekbones, pale skin, and slicked-back black hair appeared on the screen. Lawrence recognized the wall behind him. He was in Tom's shop.

"You haven't earned 'a little more friendly' yet," the fox said. "But after all this, a face I can punch will be a novelty."

Neal worked a thumbpad over his own phone without looking at it, apparently staring off into space.

"Fair enough, Mr. Murphy. Then I'll get right to it. I have reason to believe you've been in contact with a rogue employee of ours. Someone who's gone missing, with some company secrets."

"Wait, who's missing?" he asked, trying to sound sincere. "I've got friends at NUBio, there's nothing wrong with that, last I checked."

"Have you spoken with Tyler Garcia, Mr. Murphy?"

"We had a cup of coffee after work yesterday, but there was some disturbance and we had to break it off," the fox said, not wanting to be caught in a lie. "Is he missing? Is something wrong?"

Neal kept staring, eyes focused like there was something he could see -- and maybe there was, Lawrence didn't know just how modded he was. Either way, though, he felt like he was navigating a minefield without any help, not knowing if his friends were still alive on the other side.

"I'm just trying to cross some t's and dot some i's," Phil said. "Mr. Garcia is not important."

"Then why did you-- y'know, what, never mind. Where's Tom?"

"He's perfectly fine. He's perfectly safe."

"Then that means I can talk to him."

"What do you know about the rogue employee?"

"I thought Tyler wasn't important."

"Mr. Garcia isn't the rogue employee."

Lawrence recognized an effort to keep him off-balance, and focused.

"Look, I don't know who or what you're talking about. I don't know anything about whatever mess you've got going on over there at NUBio. Now let me talk to Tom for some reassurance that he's fine." Lawrence let a growl creep into his voice, more to indulge his building anger than any delusion that he was going to intimidate this guy over the phone.

"I think you know a good bit, especially invol--"

"Tom. Now. Or I hang up."

Phillip wearily sighed, and turned the phone until Tom appeared on the screen.

"First off, I'm okay, nobody's been hurt," the raccoon said. "This guy showed up at the shop, said who he was and that he's looking for you."

"Did he threaten you?"

"Just in that vague way most corp types do, no offense to those present. But I wasn't going to give him your number, so we came to an agreement that he could call you with my phone. So far, the agreement has held. We've been very polite."

"Is Melody there?"

"She's at work, though I have to assume they have someone watching in case I do something foolish." He glanced off to the side. "He's getting impatient."

"Put him back on," Lawrence sighed, feeling a tiny bit better.

"I don't want to hurt anyone," Phillip said as he reappeared on the screen. "Things have gotten too complicated for that at this point. But we're willing to make you a deal for the AI."

"Even if I knew what AI you were talking about, I'm not sure I'm at liberty to make a deal."

"We can negotiate specifics on the 'how.' But we want it back."

"And let me guess, this is the part where you offer to cure my father if I can deliver this AI to you."

"I'm not sure a full cure is in the cards."

"Bullshit."

"What I'm saying is that we don't have that. Not for sure. But what we do have is an improved version of the drug he's been testing. Make a deal with us and we can assure that he gets that drug, for free, for the rest of his life."

"Right, we make this deal and as soon as I follow through something happens and the relevant department gets shut down or the drug turns out to be nonviable and there's nothing to give me, but there's a conveniently-similar drug that I can pay for." Lawrence worried a seat cushion with his claws as any feeling of control rapidly drained away.

"Mr. Murphy," Phillip sighed. "I'm not going to pretend we're always the straightest shooters, that we've never dicked anyone around, anything like that. But listen closely when I tell you something. It's literally not worth the trouble of screwing you. I promise you that I can get you this drug, in bulk, and make sure you get more for as long as your old man lives. And who knows? There might be a cure some day."

"Mr. Scranton," Lawrence said with mock-civility. "I'm not going to pretend I know anything about this AI, or your rogue employee, anything like that. But listen closely when I tell you something. If Tom or Melody so much as stubs their toe after this phone call ends, I will personally rip your goddamn throat out. Try curing that."

"They don't pay me enough for this," Phillip said with an exaggerated eye-roll. "Either you know something and we can deal or you don't and we can't and you have to spend the rest of your life waiting for the other shoe to drop. I've got no personal investment in this. But if you're ready to talk, call us. I'll leave a number for my office with your friend here. Ciao ciao."

He hung up.

"Motherf--!" Lawrence growled as he banged his fist against the car door. "Son of a bitch! Chimera, I'm assuming you got all that?"

A momentary pause. "You assume right."

"Who is this guy and how did he find Tom? Actually, scratch that, we need to go over there. I need to know he's okay."

"It could be a trap," Chimera said in what was clearly meant to be a calming tone.

"Yeah, I know it could be a trap. But what are they going to do? Have me shot in the street? Send Neal after me again? No offense."

"None taken," the panther said. "They've been trying to get in touch with me, actually. I don't think they know what exactly happened in the parking garage yet. They just know something went off the rails. I've been playing phone tag for now, implying I'm dealing with it to keep them at arm's length."

"Either way, they already know about my connection to Tom." Lawrence barely kept his voice even when he said that. "I appreciate the effort you've put into keeping me safe, but I think we need a change of tactics right now. And we may as well loop Tom in on that. So please, just take us over to Tom's and we'll deal with it."

"Already on the way," came Chimera's voice over the internal speakers.

The ride lapsed into silence for a few moments.

"Hey, Chimera?" Lawrence asked.

"Yeah?"

"I hope it doesn't need to be said, but I'm not going to let them have you. They'll have to go through me to get to you."

"I know. But it feels nice to hear it. We'll figure something out."

* * *

Melody looked up at the door as Lawrence burst in, out of breath. She and Tom stood on opposite sides of the shop counter, mid-conversation.

"Did you run here?" she asked.

"Had... Chimera and Neal drop me off... a couple blocks away... just in case..." The fox leaned against the counter and gasped for breath. "I was... worried... are you two okay?"

"Yeah, we're both--" Melody began before Lawrence grabbed her in a tight hug. "--FINE!" She gently pried the fox off and shot Tom a look. "I just got here a few minutes ago, Tom was just telling me what happened."

"Sorry, just... worried," Lawrence said.

"I appreciate the thought, but I'm not some damsel in distress here. If I didn't think I could handle myself the moment the suits get involved, I'd have told you to go to hell and took a trip out west to visit my folks."

"Okay, okay, that's fair," the fox said, hands held up defensively.

"I love ya, Lawrence, but you've got a bit of a hero complex. You think you're leading some sort of adventure, but instead this is a mess that we're all caught up in."

"Okay, Mel, that's enough," Tom said firmly. "You're right, but this is officially unnecessary."

She opened her mouth to snap a reply at Tom, but stopped herself. She then turned back to the fox.

"So where's Neal? I imagine he's your shadow right now?" she asked.

"He offered to keep his distance and watch things from outside."

"Did he or Chimera tell you who this Scranton guy is?"

"He described him to me as this mid-level 'troubleshooter' at NUBio. He does stuff like arrange strike teams, hide old men in hospitals, that sort of thing. He's sorta tied to R&D, so he's got a personal investment in finding Chimera and bringing him back."

"He sounds like a piece of work to deal with," Melody commented, her tone even.

"Y'know, as much as I enjoy being out of the direct line of fire up to this point, I'm officially a little jealous that I don't get to meet the color-changing super-assassin or your cyberpunk protagonist mega-hacker," Tom remarked, trying to add some levity to the conversation.

"I hate to disappoint you, but I'm not sure it's great to bring them in here just yet. I mean... Scranton was here, in person, right?"

"Yeah, actually. He had a woman with him. A human, with short brown hair. She didn't talk, just stood by the door. Security system picked up a couple of guns on her, none on Scranton. No physical cyber-mods on either, but that doesn't rule out other enhancements." Tom gestured to a nearby screen and it played footage showing them coming in and beginning a conversation. "They showed up, he introduced himself, then he said 'I know you can reach Lawrence Murphy and I want to have a word with him.' He and I negotiated, I called you from my phone, and you know the rest."

"Has anybody been following you?" Lawrence asked Melody. "Like, while you're at work?"

"Not that I've noticed, but to be honest after what happened in the parking garage... well, everyone looks like they're about to pull a gun or pop claws or something."

Lawrence slumped against the counter as the weight of that hit him. "Jesus," he hissed. "I'm responsible for this, I did this to you."

"Yeah, you--" she began before Tom grabbed her arm and shook his head. She glared daggers back at him, but relented. The last thing she needed was to blow her stack and say the wrong thing. She sighed and relaxed, and Tom let go of her arm.

"So what now?" Tom asked, glancing between the two of them. "Is there a plan?"

"I'm not sure," Lawrence said. "I can't hold them off forever. Chimera and I are workshopping a plan to pretend to give him up, double-cross NUBio, and somehow run off with everything."

"But you know they're going to expect the double-cross and try to get you first," Melody said, oddly calm.

"Yeah, but maybe... maybe between now and whatever we set up, we'll come up with something. Or they'll make some mistake, or..."

Melody sighed.

"What?" The fox's ears laid back.

"You worry me sometimes, is all."

"I worry a lot of people, it feels like. Though..." Gears turned in his head. "I mean, if Scranton already knows about this place, maybe I can dial back the hiding. Maybe I can go home, and see my dad, and take advantage of some breathing room."

"Don't relax too much, that might be what they want you to do," Melody said.

"Yeah, but at this point I'm ready to chance it. If they wanted to grab me, there could have been--" Lawrence cut himself off. "They'd still be here."

"Nice save," she remarked, glancing at Tom.

"You know, Lawrence, maybe you should talk to Steve and Liz," Tom said. "They might be able to put together something to help. At least go over your options. Might help you make a plan."

"I'm not sure if I want to risk exposing them to more danger than I have. Also, that might require letting them in on..." Lawrence trailed off and frowned thoughtfully.

"I told him the truth about Chimera," Melody said after a second of awkward silence.

"You told him everything?"

"He's too close to it not to tell, Lawrence," she chided. "Which is why you'd have eventually decided to tell him anyways. I saved you the time."

"That should have been my choice, though."

"A kill team, Lawrence," Melody growled. "A kill team came at us yesterday. And the asshole who called the kill team on us was here, standing right where you are now, not even an hour ago."

"She's right," Tom said, firmly but evenly. "I appreciate you wanting to compartmentalize this. But if my life is going to be put in danger over an actual AI, I deserve to know. As soon as dudes with guns for hire start showing up, keeping me in the dark isn't helping me."

"Okay. Okay." Lawrence held his hands up. "I'll... you've got me there. I'm just..." He trailed off and closed his mouth and shook his head. "I need to rest. I'm gonna go home. Check in with my dad. Sleep because I need to work tomorrow. And at some point I'll get in touch with Steve and Liz and talk to them."

Tom dug out his phone and thumbed the screen. "I'll send you some rough specs on what you should ask for and how. They'll trust me without too much explanation, and you can use that to hammer out options without having to volunteer too much."

"Thanks, Tom."

"Go see your old man. Tell him we said 'hi.' Let us know if anything changes."

"Right," Lawrence sighed. "Right." He shuffled towards the door, his tail limp. He paused as he reached it. "Hey, Mel?"

"Yeah, Lar?"

"I'm sorry."

"You can make it up to me by getting us through this alive."

He nodded and slipped out, his departure punctuated by the digital chime on the door. Almost a full minute of silence followed, until Melody and Tom were sure he wasn't coming back in.

"Thanks for steering him towards Liz. But you see why I had to come up with my own plan," Melody said.

Tom sighed and flicked a switch to disable the 'back in 5 minutes' sign on the window. "This is going to get messy."

Melody flinched at the reminder of her conversation with Dana and the encounter with the kill team. "That's what I've said," she sighed. "But it's already messy. Thing is, Lawrence wants to wallow in the mess, and somebody needs to do something to pull him out before he drowns."

"You're not wrong. I just don't want anyone to get hurt more than they already have."

"Me either, Tom. But sometimes breaking the leg is better than cutting it off."