"I'm in position.", said the voice on the other end of the line, successfully getting the bald old man with a goatee to shift his attention from his mug to his handheld device; the OPLink. He laid the mug down in the small glass table before rubbing his hands together. Even in a prestigious and comfortable environment like the Plaza Hotel, the old man still couldn't get himself accommodated, which made sense. His job was risky. He threw himself blindly in a board game, and the rules were vague. He had no idea how much his enemy knew. Heck, he had no idea how much HE knew. It was like trying to read a book which refused to open. That is why he couldn't change into his silky robe and comfy slippers. That's why he opted to keep his suit instead, choosing to fight the suffocation that came as punishment for wearing something as formal as that inside a tight room.

"Good. I reckon Ms. Alice already taught you how to create a three-way digital bridge between your OPLink, CID and me?", Mr. Cheshire spoke, as his normal-sounding, human voice was instantly filtered and distorted to appear as that of a growling monster's to the person on the other side.

"Yes, sir", the man responded without skipping a beat.

Although most of Mr. Cheshire's helpers were required to work with fairly advanced technology, he never even considered hiring technophiles or basement dwelling hackers to do his bidding for two reasons. First one was; they usually lacked the physical and mental capabilities to dive into potential enemy territory. And two; they were too enthusiastic. He mostly looked for people who were loyal, people with an average IQ, who didn't question anything and were only there for the money. While your average young computer pirate with a couple of stains in his record would want to patent that amazing looking device which you just assigned to him, your average street thug would just like to be done, get his cash and hasten the fuck out.

"Alright. I think it's done." Suddenly, a noise began emitting from Mr. Cheshire's master OPLink. There was nothing but a static at first, and then as the CID began rotating, it caught a NYPD frequency. They were seemingly talking about a 10-14. Interesting, but not what Mr. Cheshire was looking for. The CID (Chatter Intercepting Device) was a device the size of a football, designed to look like an antenna. It could be deployed and activated in the ground and it could cover a large radius of frequencies, almost the size of a neighborhood. It was a prototype, so the distance it could reach was still a topic for debate. Regardless, the device was fairly easy to use and invaluable, granting Mr. Cheshire plenty of golden opportunities.

A knock on the door was all it took to get Cheshire worked up. He grabbed the OPLink and muttered the words "Go silent." to his zealous helper, before sliding the device under his jacket which was on the bed. He wasn't expecting any visitors. "Who's there?", he spoke confidently, gaining some time as his right hand reached for his pistol, a Walther P99. "Room service!", a muffled voice was heard from the other side of the door. Almost 60 percent sure that his life was at stake, he pointed the gun at the door and spoke again, this time louder. "I didn't order anything." His index finger was on the trigger while he kept his eyes on the shadow peeking under the door, like a vulture would eye his prey, patiently waiting for his assailant to make a compromising move. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of what seemed like a pale, small hand slowly grabbing the slide of his gun. He looked a little bit to the side to see Emily, wearing what seemed like a bathrobe and sporting a white towel on her head.

"Relax, dude. I did.", she spoke calmly, her words giving the old man a little bit of relief and at the same time annoying him. He decided to confront her later and instead handle the crucial recon operation that he was working on, before he was interrupted that is. He grabbed the OPLink and placed it on the table, reactivating it in the process. "Okay, proceed.", he spoke rigidly as the outer corner of his left eye monitored Emily, who was giving a tip to the hotel employee and grabbing the food tray. For a man well over his 70s, Cheshire surely was good at multitasking.

"I think I've got something. Listen to this.". The OPLink now started transmitting a conversation between two people. It looked like CID caught it half-way, but Mr. Cheshire could still utilize his skills to pick up context clues and come to a conclusion. After all, he was exceptionally good at that. The conversation got Emily's attention too, as she slowly let the food tray on top of the bed sheets and began listening in.

"-you're tired of playing sitting ducks, but we have to do this. She might know something we don't."

"Oh, come on. Do you really think he would tell her anything? You've read the file. You know how Leighton was."

"That's exactly why I've approved this op. Leighton was one devious son of a bitch. If you don't expect something from him, it's likely that he has already done it. He didn't win a Pulitzer for nothing, you know.". The men were supposedly talking about the deceased journalist, Nathan Leighton. The conversation was useful enough to determine that there was Network presence in that particular New York neighborhood, which wasn't much of a bombshell. What, however, got Mr. Cheshire hooked was the fact that they were talking about a woman which could compromise The Network.

The conversation was shortly wrapped up and all was left was the static. Mr. Cheshire rubbed his hands again, now his movements more vigorous than the first time as he leaned closer to the OPLink. "Good job, Mr. Kane. I'll transfer the money to your bank account. It's important that you destroy the CID. I don't want to leave any traces behind. Your job's over. Hopefully, we won't ever come into contact again."

"Amen to th-", the man was cut off from the line with the click of a button. The wealthy old man didn't like talking to people more than needed. It cramped his style.

He lost himself for a brief moment, his brain juggling all the acquired information. With that in mind, he turned to Emily, who was at that moment stuffing a great amount of calories in her mouth. "I need you to create a shadow account. Choose an exotic place, like Brazil this time.", he ordered, prompting her to nod slowly as she couldn't talk at the time. "Also, check for any of Leighton's relatives or contacts which are currently living in Queens. I'm activating the snakes for a more thorough search, and I think it's time that I make use of all those signed contracts.", he proceeded, speaking efficiently and with no stuttering, like a true orator. He grabbed his coffee mug and took a sip from it, his eyes darting to the window at his right which provided him with a sight of the street. Something big was coming, and he knew it.



The duo were waiting patiently in the middle of the huge, empty storage. Mr. Cheshire was wearing his black longcoat and formal attire, the blue feline mask covering his face as it always did in those type of business related meetings. Alice, in the other hand, was sporting her business outfit; a black pencil skirt and a white shirt. There was a table set up in the middle, a few feet away from them. There were six chairs lined up along the table, and six white sheets of what seemed like work contracts. Mr. Cheshire was also seated, while Emily was standing up, lightly digging her nails onto his left shoulder. She was nervous. She was always nervous when meeting people who could kill her in ways she couldn't comprehend. In stark contrast to her, Mr. Cheshire was ridiculously calm, although very little could be told about his emotional status since the mask covered his face. You couldn't pick any type of cues from him.

"You think they're coming?", she uttered, sighting the entrance for any type of movement.

"I'm certain they are.", Mr. Cheshire slowly shifted his sight towards her, as his distorted voice echoed around the facility.