2013 07 27 1

Sat Jul 27 2073

Tilden Katz maglocks the door to his office, surreptitiously peering through the blinds before shutting those as well. He turns on the white noise generator her purchased through an ugly ork fixer at Chrome a while back, thinks fondly on that celebratory night having closed two accounts. He places the heavy travel bag onto his mahogany desk and licks his lips with anticipation. The holopix showed the bloated decker sustained massive head trauma from some kind of IC. The runner was efficient in delivery, Katz thinks as he opens the bag:
A burned up and fried Fairlight Excalibur deck.
What the hell are you up to Watanabe?, the corp exec wonders to himself as he runs a high level MCT diagnostic hardware program on it. It reads something very, very interesting.

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