[h2][center][b][color=magenta]Alese Piety[/color][/b][/center][/h2]

Eyes blinked open. She’d been sleeping soundly. Deep enough in slumber that the first few seconds of reality felt like a mystery; like she’d been a million miles away and suddenly snapped back to the present. Alese stared ahead for a moment, blankly watching the slow turn of long industrial fan blades over the shop while her mind became somewhat functional again. She remembered she’d only planned to lay down, take a little cat nap and then get back to work, however the relative silence in the air informed her that she’d been checked-out considerably longer than just a brief resting of the eyes. The small sofa in what constituted a “break area” within the alcove where the main tool chests were located was cheap, but [i]by the gods was it comfortable[/i] and as she became steadily aware of herself, she debated whether or not to just blissfully drift away again though she knew that never worked. Her mind seemed to operate in two modes when it came to sleep: Awake and thinking or out cold to the point a marching band could have paraded across the floor and she would have never noticed. Something floated by the periphery of her vision and her glance shifted, but she was still far too comfortable to move.  

The digital face of her small drone blinked an alarm that was several hours passed. Normally it would have made a happy chime to wake her up when the countdown expired, though for whatever reason it had been silent. “[color=magenta]Thanks…[/color]” She grumbled and the deep blue clock face merrily turned to a pixelated smile. She sighed and wiped her eyes. The AI contained within the small drone was very good, but inexplicably would just go silent at random times to the point where she had inserted a backup protocol for it to beep and “speak” in Morse code, however that hadn’t worked either… For a brief second, she started to consider the potential problems in the logic for the umpteenth time, but quickly shut down that line of thinking. Having built it herself, whatever the problem was had been something she had done along the way and she just didn’t feel like thinking about it at the moment. She stretched mightily and sat up, shifting her legs down, but still keeping her upper body slouched in the warmth from her sleep. Disheveled strands of multicolored hair hung over her eyes and touched her lips and she blew them off with an ungraceful huff.

Directly in front of her were two large armored vans, though they looked closer to military personnel carriers having huge solid tires instead of tracks. With six wheels each, in a line they took up more space than three civilian cars bumper to bumper. Black and white with the stomping print of “MCPD” on the side, each had a turret on top that could be configured for whatever the intended purpose from crowd control, to raids or surveillance. These were brand new and a thick line of cables led inside the machine closest to her denoting the work she left before dozing off. Pre-delivery contracts for city administration were pretty easy, however there were only a handful of shops this side of MegaCity-01 that met the technical qualifications to do the work when the official motor pool office was too far behind. Alese could easily picture her father’s perspicacious expression explaining how the police had to be deftly managed just like the gangs and that there was no harm in understanding the finer points of their operation: Like the truncation pattern in the radio net, the unit number logic or the published versus realistic performance of many of the more advanced systems. Even though he had been out of the Spire for years, Corporate instinct still directed much of his thinking.     
   
She yawned and shook her head, stretching again before a steaming mug and a hand terminal were suddenly in her face. She took the terminal and set it aside, but tickled cautiously at the mug the drone presented in its unfolded arm, testing the temperature. “[color=magenta]Way too hot.[/color]” She said, looking at the small screen knowing that it [i]should be[/i] trying to read her facial expression, however it only responded ponderously with another smile and seemed to insist that she take the drink. “[color=magenta]Just sit it on the table.[/color]” She said flatly and stood up. The drone’s posture seemed to drop like it was disappointed and did as instructed. 

Fingertips ran along the angular hull of the giant vehicle and her sneakers scarcely made a sound on the concrete as she first glanced up towards the living area. No one else seemed to be home and only the ambient noise of muffled city traffic filled the air. She didn’t want to be seen snooping and simply walked like a curious cat towards the only other vehicle in the shop, though it wasn’t a customer or contract job. 

Low to the floor, the gentle curvature of the roof was barely above her waistline. The stout bars of a complex roll cage frame were visible between wide rear tires while the formed aluminum monocoque that covered the aft section was removed; sitting aside with several components of the upper engine assembly and two substantial rear spoilers that hung on the back wall, one of which was visibly damaged. Alese leaned against the steel bumper of the MCPD stryker and looked over it for a moment, like some champion fighter in the locker room being made ready for the arena. Her eyes slowly drifted up to the damaged wing and she felt her breath pause for just a moment before she finally sighed while thoughts passed letting her shoulders relax again. She didn’t really expect to find anything different. Both turbos were laid out neatly with their brief, coiling downpipes that continued to a pair of what were essentially sound canons that would go in last before the shell was replaced. Norris had been putting it back together which meant there were credits to be made. She pursed her lips slightly and turned away, drumming her nails on the hood of the massive police vehicle. Her sportbike was sitting happily, tucked in the opposite corner like a loyal pet, bright white and excited, but she hadn’t ridden it in nearly two weeks.

As she stepped away, the drone reappeared abruptly with [i]another[/i] cup of coffee and her terminal. She eyed the first cup still steaming for a moment and took the second attempt in hand along with the terminal again. “[color=magenta]Much better.[/color]” She said, though taking a cautious sip. Her eyes perused the media feeds while the drone gently maneuvered behind her as if angling to read the text from over her shoulder. She shrugged and stepped away to keep the screen from its glance. “[color=magenta]Don’t be so nosey[/color].” She chided, sitting down on the step up to the driver’s side of the stryker. Nothing too exciting although a runner from one of the Sk8ter cells turning up dead at the Spire was a bit of a strange anecdote in the rest of the regular city drama, particularly that, according to the report, he had [i]fallen[/i] to his death and stranger still, was completely empty-handed. Most of the reports she rapidly checked basically followed with the same description and not a lot of detail. It wasn’t unusual for MCPD to put a lid on a story, but this one felt particularly terse, even from some of the news beats that were generally favorable to the police force. A runner falling wasn’t totally unheard of, but dropping to their death without any kit was an eyebrow raiser. Every Sk8ter she knew at least carried some level of gear, much of which was designed to [i]prevent[/i] them from such a fate. She gave a small huff of amusement. It probably wouldn’t matter and would be forgotten in a few days, but it might be interesting gossip and she knew a few people that would be keen to know the real story. She was in the middle of another sip when a random synthesized voice startled her out of the quiet distraction nearly causing her to jump out of her skin and almost spill coffee everywhere. 

“[color=6ecff6]Time to work![/color]”

Alese looked up hatefully at the drone. “[color=magenta]Oh, so now you’re talking?[/color]” She said, flicking away drips of coffee that teetered over the edge and ran down the side of the mug.

“[color=6ecff6]I. Work… Alese.[/color]” It responded. Reading her narrowed brow and sensing the growl in her words, it changed its tone, scouring the net in a fraction of a second in an attempt to find a soothing voice to replicate. “[color=6ecff6]Can. We… Work?[/color]” Somewhere, the AI’s algorithms decided a cartoon character's sing-song tenor would be an appropriate counter for its creator’s displeasure, however observing her extremely unsatisfactory reaction, it began to slowly reverse away.  

“[color=magenta]I think I’m gonna erase your memory.[/color]” 

“[color=6ecff6]Please. No.[/color]”