[h2]Jericho’s Reach[/h2]

[b]The Hotel Almalexia, the Broken Gardens District[/b]

“I am surprised to see you here, Mr. Callows,” said the Voice, thin lips peeled back from teeth too white and too long. It was a tall, androgynous figure in a plain black suit. Vat grown, most likely, its face above the mouth hidden behind bulky augmentics and snaking metal tubes that allowed Mandragore to pilot it remotely, “after the unpleasantness of our last interaction.”

Callows shrugged. He didn’t seem too bothered by the pair of Red Eye Company mercs in blackened armor flanking the Voice. His gaze wandered the white marble pillars and gilded archways of the lobby. Sunlight streamed in from vaulted skylights in the copper ceiling, and flowering vines snaked their way around clusters of chairs and cushions dotted throughout the hall.

“You all did a good job patching up the bullet holes,” he said.

The Voice sniffed in irritation. Mandragore called himself the Mayor of Jericho’s Reach, and his goons had three times now tried to take Judas Station for their own. Three times Callows and his boys had sent them packing. Then Callows had shown up in the Hotel Almalexia and shot down Mandragore’s son and twelve of his entourage. Had led to some tense relations, to say the least.

“Well,” said Callows, “I came in person ‘cause I wanted to impress upon you the seriousness of what I’m about to tell you.”

“Coming here was a very serious mistake on your part,” said the Voice, and the guards moved to flank Callows. Throughout the lobby heads turned languidly: crawler captains, aristos, corporate lords and the other great and good of Jericho's Reach observed the impending violence with bored interest.

“You can hear what I have to say, or your friends here can take another step. But you'n me've tangled enough times for you to think I waltzed in here alone,” said Callows, nodding towards the silhouettes now visible through the skylights, “Anyway, we both got bigger problems now.”

“What problems?” said the Voice. It signaled to the guards to hold.

“You all expecting any Crawlers in lately haven’t shown up yet?” said Callows, “I’m talking big tankers, kind that could take on an army by their own selves.”

The Voice tilted its eyeless head, but did not speak.

“Thought so.”