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Needle in a Haystack
#1
Rune had grown less and less interested in her "exterminator" job and instead began to wander around Moscow collecting signs that her uncle was alive. That meant she had a big box of nothing in her collection. They were separated in the undercity, so she assumed that he had wandered out alone and simply didnt’ know how to contact her. Maybe he’d lost all of his tech. The Atharim safe houses were differnet now and he’d not built a lot of russian alliances among the atharim. Or like a little kid lost in the mall, she had to assume he was searching for her too, so she tried to leave clues that he might collect with hopes that he would find her. But it didnt work. Time passed and nothing.

The next stage of finding something that was lost was the pessimistic idea that maybe the lost thing didn't want to be found. Rune knew that if her uncle wanted to disappear, he could do it in a heartbeat. But why would he abandon her without saying goodbye? It was cruel to imagine. So she figured that wasn't what happened.

Which took her to one inevitable conclusion. Seth must have been taken prisoner, or have amnesia, or being blackmailed or something awful like that. Only Rune could save him. So she returned to the undercity to sniff out the power players that had the capacity to hold Seth (literally or figuratively) against his will. But it was like searching for a needle in a haystack. A haystack that hd recently been smoked out. Meanwhile, she kept eyes out for anyone who looked suspiciously like an empty shell of a man who didn’t know his own identity.

So Rune explored the homeless camps, but she blended in just fine. She wore her usual hunting gear, and was clad in all shades of dark colors. She had abandoned the hair dyes and makeup she favored from when they first arrived in Moscow. Her knives and gun was hidden away, nestled close to the planes and muscles of her body. No need to scare anyone, she thought, peering around a wall of barrels that served like a barricade.

"Whatcha doin?" a voice grumbled. A second later, a piece of trash was kicked at her. "Get away from our shit," another added. She turned and found four guys standing up to her. Apparently she'd been poking around someone's home and the owner was territorial.

"Sorry," she mumbled and tried to get away, but they had that look of wanting to teach a lesson. And then a few more heads joined the group. Annoyed, Rune tried apologizing again and was eager to move on. She didn't want to cause a scene, but neither did she want to get her ass beat up just for exploring.
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#2
She walked away from four grown men moaning on the ground behind her. She didn’t intend to find a fight, but when confronted, Rune had the means to defend herself. Plus, they were nobody bullies who only knew how to punch a frightened target. Rune was no such thing, and she was a lot stronger than she looked.

Plus she had guns.

They backed off after she aimed the first pistol. She hated wasting ammunition, so she was grateful she didn’t need to fire any warning shots. Plus it would have been mega loud and she hated that ringing in her ears.

The undercity was more tense than she remembered. It was always a free place and Rune respected the people that called it home. She couldn’t have lived there. Didn’t want to live there either.

She continued exploring, asking questions and hearing more and more strange rumors from those willing to actually talk to her. Most people scurried away at the first sight of her.
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#3
After a few hours wandering the Undercity, Rune was pretty dejected. She was sitting on a ledge, feet dangling over a water run off when she sniffed something different. The Undercity was full of crime and violence. She smelled all the paths leading off in many directions, but this scent was different than the rest. Kind of like the difference between warm cinnamon and hot chocolate. It paired well together but was definitely different. Plus this scent was actually pretty nasty. She sighed and pushed away thoughts of hot cocoa for now.

She shoved herself up in order to dig around through her pack. An energy capsule was buried in the bottom, but she dug it out and opened the contents onto her tongue. She was tired from the failure of going another night without finding Uncle Seth, but within a moment, she was shook up with fresh vigor.

She followed the scent down a tunnel where the water run off split away from the service corridor. Something nasty was down there in the dark, and Rune could smell its trail. She flicked on a flash light and peered into the darkness, clicking her tongue to taunt whatever waited.
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#4
Shit was going down. Yeah, an understatement alright. Mik heard all the rumbling and such. The Yakuza was making moves- them and then Kolos and Mordvinovs and Triads in turn- and the tension ratcheted up again and again and again. And so he did his usual thing- float in, listen a little, rap a little, flirt a little (well, not a little..I mean could you blame him? Those Yakuza guys and girls were hot. And then a hint of inked black lines at the top of a collared shirt or narrow chokered dress disappeared tantalizingly behind proper demure clothing, only playfully to peekout at cuffed wrist or an exposed leg through a dress slit...I mean come on! You telling me he didn't like what he saw?)

So anyway, yeah, Yakuza and co busy and him getting Intel and doing what he could to be the information guy, all the while the lady (this time she wore Yun Kao's face) smiling, knowing that shit was indeed going to go down and there might even be some fire in the mix and did he want to see it? To which he said fuck yes) and....where was he? Oh yeah.

All of which to say the feel in the air was electric, almost like he could smell a storm or something. And he loved it. Like loved it like when he was in a chase, his prey glancing back to make sure he was coming (and oh, he would yoo). Like when he was pulling the leather straps tight around a wrist, the strained cords of tendon and muscle in the wrist of his sub telling him how far to go, enjoying the slow process of immobilizing them. Like when the leather hood over his face let not a sliver of light peek through and his breathing around his saliva covered ball gag was labored, competing the with sounds of his Dom handling various implements and he writhed in anticipation of what those might hint was coming next.

Oh yeah, the atmosphere was laden with potential and the lady teased him on and...well, what the fuck was Mik to do? The slow build was pleasurable. Amazing. And excrutiating. But he wanted to have fun tonight. And this time have a bit more fun that a drink with a deadly hot but silent chick or a guy who, for all he liked to be looked at and tease, was in a committed relationship (and shoot him if that ever was where was going. For reals. Right in the balls since he wasn't gonna need em then.)

So where was he? Oh yeah. Potentuous days and horny nights and he with the biggest case of blue balls in the world and for fuck's sake he just wanted to blow something up- his load or a car or a head, it didn't matter.

So down to the tunnels he went, his lighter in his hand flicking the flint occasionally, the power flooding him and bringing the terrible and wonderful and nauseating and exciting scents of what might be. Oh some homeless folk shied away, but his winningest smile was enough to get at least one to talk. Or maybe the candy bars in this pocket. Whichever, be got a bead on a...something. 

And holy shit he wanted a something. The bigger the better. Marry fuck kill, without the marry. He just needed to know which. 

So he'd walking along, tralala, trying to pick up the scent of blood or gore over the nastiness of the tunnels....and sure enough, the lady was good to him. Yun raised an eyebrow, smirk on her lips, and nodded in the direction of one tunnel. Mik grinned at her and headed down, deeper. No telling what was down here. 

The lighter in his hand wasn't a joke. A weave or two of fire played at his fingertips, a faint green blue flame that wreathed sinuously around his fingers. In less time it took to wink, it would lash out, a whip he had trained with enough that it was faster than thought. 

Damn but the anticipation was fucking fun. He just hoped something happened.
"Good and ill. 
We're like the wind, 
we blows both ways."
- Mad Sweeney, American Gods
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