A Warehouse in the Abandoned Warehouse District, Saturday Afternoon

[electrocynic]

Inside a gloomy, unwelcoming building (covered in half-broken neon signage and graffiti) in the warehouse district, Electroclash was waiting

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[imafuturist]

Tony shook the rain off his overcoat (of course there was some dreary rain) and walked into the building to find her.

"Sarah."

[electrocynic]

"I've asked not to be called that," Electroclash reminded him. It was mild and raspy, on top of the metallic.

That name had been wiped out from everywhere long ago. But, of course, that had never actually kept people from digging it up.

[imafuturist]

"How has that worked out?" Tony asked, leaning against the desk. He was much more capable of passing as completely human.

It took effort, but there it was.

[electrocynic]

"You're here, calling me by it," she pointed out, a little on the flat side. Watching him. "Tony."

[talentforlying]

"'Clash, love." Constantine's smile gleamed sharply in the dim light as he lounged in the doorway of one of his favorite dealers. Information was biggest high, after all. "Don't suppose you're looking to buy today? I've a few trinkets as might suit your fancy."

[electrocynic]

"Depends on what you're peddling this time, Constantine," Electroclash replied evenly, looking up. A small electric light on one of the panels to her right flashed three times in quick succession. "Show off your trinkets and I'll tell you if I'm buying."

[talentforlying]

"This time?" He held up two lead-lined red ministerial boxes. "Hard-drives from charmingly off-line Swedish banks, and a few governmental offices."

Was there still blood on one of those cases? Maybe. John wasn't the tidiest person.

[electrocynic]

And Electroclash didn't particularly care. So it all worked out.

"Alright," she said, mostly to acknowledge that he'd sufficiently showed off his trinkets, rather than to accept the offer of business. "And what're you expecting to get in return?"