Sooner or later the music must be faced.
Jan. 19th, 2014 09:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runningredJason packed his panniers and adjusted his jacket. The snap blades Teja made him fit perfectly, sitting against his wrists like a second skin. His hands moved over the rest of his gear in order, a rhythm of his nomadic existence. All he owned, he carried and every time he moved, he checked.
The gold strips in the lining of his jacket. The IDs hidden under the jacket’s integral armour. The account numbers and passwords memorised and stored. He had everything he needed to start a new life.
His much upgraded bike had every bit of anti-surveillance tech he could scrounge, build or repurpose. And every bit of surveillance tech too. If anything or anyone came after him, he wanted to see it coming.
But he knew it wasn’t enough. All the planning and toys at his disposal won’t save him from what was coming after him but it would give him a running start.
He wanted to follow Ichabod’s suggestion – find a nice little place in Malta and settle down. Make a home, not just a safe house. Somewhere with a view of the way so he could look out and see the world in its splendour.
But it would never work. Not while the League has a target painted on his back. There could be no settling down, no enjoying the view without constantly looking over his shoulder. Not until he could do it without fear.
It was time to face the music. Bike packed and gear stowed, he sat at his workbench and started writing notes. He didn’t want it to seem like his last word to them but he can’t help but wonder if he’s coming back.
The gold strips in the lining of his jacket. The IDs hidden under the jacket’s integral armour. The account numbers and passwords memorised and stored. He had everything he needed to start a new life.
His much upgraded bike had every bit of anti-surveillance tech he could scrounge, build or repurpose. And every bit of surveillance tech too. If anything or anyone came after him, he wanted to see it coming.
But he knew it wasn’t enough. All the planning and toys at his disposal won’t save him from what was coming after him but it would give him a running start.
He wanted to follow Ichabod’s suggestion – find a nice little place in Malta and settle down. Make a home, not just a safe house. Somewhere with a view of the way so he could look out and see the world in its splendour.
But it would never work. Not while the League has a target painted on his back. There could be no settling down, no enjoying the view without constantly looking over his shoulder. Not until he could do it without fear.
It was time to face the music. Bike packed and gear stowed, he sat at his workbench and started writing notes. He didn’t want it to seem like his last word to them but he can’t help but wonder if he’s coming back.
