(Untitled)

[dontlooklisten]

Marty Bishop's team of sneakers doesn't exactly work a standard nine-to-five by any stretch of the imagination, but there's usually a time in the morning when all of them are there and going to work. This is one of those times. Right now, Crease is on the phone, Bishop is composing one of his reports on their most recent job, Carl is out on a human

Comments

[mend_and_defend]

And now there's a tall man with dreadlocks and a short woman with tentacles peeking in from the front office.

"Hello? We're not interrupting anything, are we?"

[dontlooklisten]

"Not to my knowledge," says Whistler, who isn't lifting his fingers from the Braille output. "Hey, Bob? You wouldn't be at all familiar with a program called 'Black Ice Defender', would you?"

Mother glances over at the new speaker. "Who's this?" he asks of either Whistler or Suzi.

[mend_and_defend]

"Black Ice?" Bob frowns. "Yeah, that's a special security format for programs who guard high-clearance data. They're good at keeping hackers out, but they don't do squat for viruses..."

[sime_channel]

"This is Bob." She informs Mother, "He's a, um. Security program."