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Katherine Ramis, better known to some as 'Kitten', slowly raised her head. It was 6:00 am, far to early for her to be up. But once again, she had slept poorly last night, and further attempts at rest were out of the question. Rising, she threw back the sheets and pushed the pillows aside. All were still damp with sweat from last night's nightmare. Kitten wondered if the dreams would ever stop, or if she would relive her near-death at the hands of the MI-66 HK every night for the rest of her life. At least she hadn't broken anything. Pausing only to pull a bathrobe from it's hook on the wall, Kitten walked towards the shower.
Tapping the control that unsealed the shower door, Kitten stepped into the bathroom. Stopping in front of the mirror, she turned to regard her reflection. The image was of a young woman, her mixed parentage obvious from the thick black hair and dark skin. Angling her body, Kitten studied the profile intently. It showed a deceptively attractive build, slim of hips, and narrow waisted with firm, rounded breasts. Kitten shook her head, synthflesh did wonders to disguise her cybernetic body, and fact that she weighed in excess of 400 pounds was well hidden. The marvels of modern science. Pulling a towel around her body, Kitten decided it was time for breakfast.
Putting down her spoon, Kitten picked up a sheet of hardcopy. The paper contained a print out of last night's e-mail, and Kitten reread the message yet again, as if to assure herself that it hadn't changed since last night. It was a job offer, an invitation to return to her former life as a police officer. Well..., not quite, the offer mentioned 'the security division', it said nothing about law enforcement. The proposal was tempting however, offering excellent pay, medical benefits, and most surprising, reimbursement for her periodic cyberbody scans. Most unusual. Well, she wasn't supposed to arrive at the meeting till 3:00 pm, so she had plenty of time to consider things.
Carefully, Kitten raised the cover to the pistol case. Reaching inside, she removed a massive handgun, it's weight belied by the ease with which she lifted it. Laying the weapon down on the worktable, Kitten regarded it silently. The gun was known as a Remington Earthshaker, a three shot revolver that fired immense 15mm rounds. One such shell lay on the tabletop, dwarfing the 9mm pistol round that sat next to it. Picking the revolver back up, Kitten pushed a lever and worked the break-action, revealing the cylinder. Selecting a can of gun-oil and a brush, Kitten began to clean the weapon.
Kitten's apartment was on the 43rd floor of her building, which boasted a grand total of 60 floors. Such immense buildings were common in San Francisco, and even these structures were dwarfed by towering arcologies of Mega-Tokyo and Neo York. Opening the sliding door, Kitten stepped out onto her 'balcony', a slightly misleading term to say the least. At this height, a building's windows were sealed, unopenable except in an emergency. An exposed, open, balcony would be too cold and too windy to use most of the time, so the builders had opted for a fully-enclosed structure.
Pulling up a chair, Kitten sat down slowly, sipping at a cup of tea. It was early spring and the city skyline was relatively clear, lacking the brownish haze that marked the later, summer months. Scarcely glancing at the view offered, Kitten settled back, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The air bore a rich pine scent, mixed with the earthy smell of soil. Surrounding Kitten was an almost uncountable number of bonsai trees. The miniature plants resided on every available surface and were lined in neat rows on shelves built along each wall. The trees were Kitten's pride and joy, a touch of green amid all the chrome, glass and concrete. Each one was carefully looked after, trimmed and watered regularly. Kitten's balcony was her private retreat, the place where she could relax, away from the concerns of her everyday life. Taking another sip of her tea, Kitten sighed contentedly.
Standing before her mirror, Kitten carefully adjusted her tie. As usual, she was fully dressed, her body covered from neck to ankle. Since she was attending a business meeting, Kitten was wearing her 'business suit', consisting of a dress shirt, tie, pants and long jacket. Boots and gloves completed the outfit. Finally assured that her tie was not out of place, Kitten contemplated the Barretta resting on the table in front of her. Meeting or not, this was still San Francisco. Coming to a decision, Kitten slid the pistol into the holster set under her left arm. It was time to go.
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