Lucifer slammed a fresh clip into the grip of his pistol, eyes drawn to the misted windows, and the dancing lights beyond.

The ferrocrete wall was cold against his back, despite the humid Plex night. Sounds of rotors and treads hammered at him, crying the advance of security services. He swore. "What they got out there?"

"Kyodara gunship," Max said, his eyes unfocused, "two Mitsumura APCs. Supporting hardware. They're all set up to party." His hand twitched absently, his mind distant in the sprawling mass of Cyberspace. "Someone must've tripped a silent alarm."

"No shit," Vanessa said acidly. "Here I was thinking they were psychic."

"Who are they?"

"Hold on." Max's eyes moved, following objects only he could see. "Security contract held by Thunderstar Response."

"Damn." Lucifer pushed the setting on his fletcher to full auto. "This is gonna get ugly."

Max pulled the contact from its port embedded behind his left ear, rising to his feet. "I've set up the bank control systems to leave us an exit. We need a distraction."

Cutter began to chuckle, a low grating sound, like gravel being crushed. "Let me." Turning, he passed through the doorway, weapons held high. Lucifer shook his head; too much chrome. Not right in the head anymore.