Demolition

B.I.T.T.T.C.H
by
Delicious Vodka DeBlair
[open sound of ice clinking in whiskey tumbler, focus on blood red pair of lips]
"They say trouble comes in 3's...
"And I'm not one to argue with them.
"You know, I've been around this galaxy a lot longer than it may look. And there are a
lot of tough customers."
[pausing to sip her drink]
"So, since you're here, and got nothing better to do, let me buy you a drink and tell you
just how it got this crazy...
[cut to futuristic city scene, changing from day to night and back in different locations
as she speaks]
You know, life has a way of throwing things at you that you least expect.
Oh, I know, you've heard that line a thousand times, [sigh] but haven't we all?
But really. Its true! [second sigh]
I'm a B.I.T.T.T.C.H. [clip back to lips, motionless for 1 second][clip to pair of steel cold,
calculating blue eyes, also expressionless]
Yeah, you heard me right, but you probably spelled it wrong. [clip back to the lips as
they break into smirk, enhanced by a half chuckle]
That's alright hon, you ain't the first, and you won't be the last...[voice trails off distantly]

Episode 1
DIRTY DEEDS:
AT ANY PRICE

You know, in this line of business, you tend to end up making more enemies than
friends.
Of course, usually, you make dead enemies, because living enemies tend to want to
make you dead. Of course, I'm sure you know this story plot without my telling you.
But what you might not have known, is that along the way, it some times pays to make
a few friends as well. Friends in high places for sure, but usually its the friends in low places
who get you out of a jam.
Once I got this assignment that was seemingly quite routine, enforce an import tariff on
smuggled jewelry 'by any means', you know the racket...
Well, what nobody bothered to tell me is what these jewels were, where they were from
and why I was even involved with them since in the end, they were not in my bureau's
jurisdiction...

"Sat-com four, this is echo-delta leader six, over,"

 "Rodger echo-delta leader six, we copy you, over,"
"Apparently the target has gotten a tip-off, and has absconded without interference,
over."
"That's a shame echo-delta, come on in, over."
"Rodger sat-com four, pulling out, returning to base, over and out."
That was my cue to set up shop and do the real raid.
First, since I didn't explain it before, my name is actually an anagram for Bureau of
Intergalactic Trade, Tariff and Trafficking Cybernetic Huntress.
I am, a cyborg.
Oh no, I hear that all the time, 'I don't look it'...
Give me a break: how in the universe could I do my job if I looked like a piece of
military hardware?
But one of my cybernetic enhancements is "simulated bio-translucence." In other
words, I so effectively mimic my surroundings as to be effectively invisible to the unaided eye
and some video surveillance equipment.
This is by no means my only stealth gadgetry mind you, but its a pretty useful
adaptation. I still have no idea what they paid to assemble me, and frankly, they pay for
everything in life, so I really don't care. I live good, I look good, I feel good and I enjoy my job.
What else its there to life?
[clearing her throat]
Anyhow...back to the situation then at hand.
So naturally, as all of the smoke and dust is being stirred up, I walk right between our
regular armored field agents and find a nice inconspicuous place to settle in.
I tune into the shop's security system, climb into a cargo box in the back room and go
into hypometabolic stasis. I can wait any time it takes this way, I have fuel and oxygen
reserves plumbed into my system which can sustain me under sea or in a vacuum for 60 days
and a water scavenging and management system which makes dehydration virtually
impossible.
I waited patiently until the target activated the security system and traced the
subroutine back to the core processor and through the whiplash displacement director to the
REAL processor located at node NPRC47322-D8A (I'm sure that means nothing to you but its
part of the case and bears a lot of weight on the events that transpired both before and
afterward...) in a hidden vault eight kilometers beneath the planet's extra thick crust.
After cross linking the node access to the primary power feed and analyzing the
systems default override and emergency override systems, I wrote a back door into the
system so when the time came I would have unimpeded access to the suspect's little
hideaway.
I knew full well there was no way the thief would keep jewels of any value in a place as
easily compromised as this and it was a game of cloak and dagger, both sides trying to fake
the other side out.
I can never at any time be certain I'm ahead or behind in this game, but at least I had
something I could investigate so as soon as the thief departed for the night, I slipped out and
set off in search of the hideaway I was certain had the stolen jewels which were outside of our
jurisdiction...
[shrugging and looking skyward]
Well, as luck would have it, this was in fact not the location of the stolen jewels.
However...this did not mean it was a fruitless venture.
This little hideaway was a real hotspot of underground digital intelligence.
I was able to soak into the mainframe and massnet 86,692 known and unknown
suspects in various B.I.T.T.T. closed, ongoing and cold case investigations, many of which I
had been involved with as much as five hundred seventy two years ago.
Sure, likely a large number of those suspects may well be dead, changed their
identities or currently be incarcerated, but this information was still very valuable.
Fortunately my holocube data core can't ever in theory be filled to capacity, so I had
spare space to retrieve every bit of data this core had.
Well, time to go... I remember saying, just before the lights went out and l found
myself eight kilometers below ground with only one way out. A normal human and many other
species would never be able to climb out, but fortunately for me, it was only a minor
inconvenience.
[sipping her whiskey again]
However, my troubles were only just about to begin.
Seems a lot of failsafes were set in place that were not tied to any system and were in
fact set up mechanically so that once they were tripped they could not simply be reset.
And since I was way down here in this hole with a very long climb to the top, whomever
had set up these failsafes had plenty of time to arrive from quite some distance and be here in
time to deal with anyone down here...preferably after they starved to death I would presume...
And the walls were far enough away and well lubricated to preclude normal scaling
approaches.
So, minus a jet pack that left a very small list of options open to me.
And my power core would never drive this large elevator to the top, so plugging myself
in was not an option either.
However...they made one seemingly irrelevant mistake which made my escape not
excessively difficult.
They chose an elevator with recessed gear tracks on both sides of the wall.
Finding four reasonable pieces of hand rail and some wire ripped out of the mainframe,
I lashed two pieces of rail to my legs and held the other two in my hands and climbed up the
tracks like an ancient mechanical lifting jack I once saw in a museum.
Thankfully I could go more than one notch at a time...
I would brace with my hands then lift with my knees and then straighten up and repeat.
It took me several hours to make it to the surface but apparently, until they saw me
nearing the top they had simply assumed they had all the time in the world.
Well, as it was, they got there, just as I was making the top.
I could hear them running my direction and I knew they would be to me before I could
get the rails unbound from my legs, so I did the thing one could do at that moment and leaped
up and landed on the rails as stilts.
I had to bend over to move because the ceiling here was low, and it made both speed,
agility and balance difficult.
As I was hobbling away, blaster fire leaped out after me and dodging while walking
bent over is not an easy feat.
I had to repeatedly pull down items behind me to help slow their advancement long
enough to get around a corner in time to turn and face them.
Once I found a cozy little side passage I could slip into backward (spinning around was
not an option unfortunately) I began returning fire from my side arm pulled from my purse.
I had called for backup but they were not going to be here before I was through
mopping this little spat up or even before reinforcements of the enemy would arrive, so I just
settled in for a leisurely game of hit and miss.
The point being naturally to hit them and make them miss me of course...
 As predicted, said back up arrived just in time to help identify the bodies, tag them
and help the coroner dispatch them to the morgue.
But...all in a day's work...
[cut in to image of thick black hair being flicked back by a toss of her head, but not a
full face shot]
[amused chuckling came in another note, also feminine but apparently younger and
softer, 2 silhouettes sat at a table in the glowing orange sunset, the view zooms out to reveal
a balcony high above a city pulsing with lights and life while streaks of light rose and
descended all around and occasional roaring of thunder accompanied the nearer ones but
most often the whine of ion engines as ships arrived and departed. For a time, the voices
overlay the falling sunset and the change from orange to purple to blue to black... ]
So, the second voice asked, what are you coming to me for? in a calm, demure and
unagitated voice, but clearly declaring its suspicion.
I hear you're good for certain 'needs'. the first voice replied coolly.
If I like a customer perhaps, came an equally cool and guarded parry.
I must admit, you make me want to be likable, the first voice offered playfully, but in
my line of business, its not good business to mix personal with professional. Its messy and
complicated.
I wasn't speaking of that type of 'like' sweetie. the second voice chuckled maturely for
its apparently youthful age.
It doesn't matter either way to me, the first voice replied flatly, friends of any kind only
lead to pain and trouble.
So does trusting a dirty cop. came the sweet toned but blunt retort.
I never asked for trust. came the dismissive and coy response, I offer money and
favors, for what I need. Dirty deeds at any price I have to pay. That simple. Take it or leave it.
After a long quiet period, the second voice replied casually, I'll think about it. as she
stood up her chair made a soft grinding noise on the simulated slate floor, Clearly you know
where to find me, but I have no means to contact you.
Snorting derisively at the younger voice, You have all the information you could
possibly need on me.
Tuchet. the younger voice playfully replied, Ciao.
[Cutting back to the table, two dimly lit females, one tall, sturdy and voluptuous in high
heels, the other slighter of build, average height but with floor length white hair in a large
abundant French braid are faintly seen as a special cloaking device makes people's images
highly blurred and darkened as one is further from them, making accurate long range
surveillance impossible.]
[As both ladies walk away to different exits, a waitbot slides in to collect the empty
glass]