WHO: John Connor, generally open to Dependables.
WHERE: Atatla Hotel - John Connor's Room
WHEN: Friday, Saturday, Maybe Sunday. Loose with time here. Damn those Connors. DAMN THEM.
WARNINGS: None yet, I'll edit if that changes. Connor Cursing, I guess?
SUMMARY: BY FAR the most 'exciting' part of any action movie, obviously, is the part where the
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She grimaced.
"Grab the tweezers? Some assfuck decided I looked like I needed a fucking Coke." Upside the head. There were pieces she could feel but not see. "I was trying to let you work, but, as long as you're here..." Sarah gestured with the bloody towel, exasperated with events in general.
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She was aware of his presence almost immediately, and reacted by dropping her ports off the network. John Connor was a shark in a digital sea- but Motoko was a bigger one, and just as hungry.
She let him peruse the security footage, the wiretaps and motion sensors, allowed the access to the security input-pads that controlled the locks on the doors, save one. The Japanese portion of the villa would seem, to him at least as much as anyone, to be identical to the other suites. Of course she had taken care of that herself; even if only for this mission, these criminals here her men, and she intended to keep them whole ( ... )
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Even if that was only because of her. He certainly didn't know that.
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He was just a kid, and very new to this game. She'd have to see to it that he didn't get himself ghost-hacked, later.
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He's not an idiot, after all. He doesn't want to lead people right to his door.
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What
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