Dar laughed in pure reflex. Troublemaker.

Just venting a little of my frustration with some help from my one and only. The fornicando puerco is finally done. My turn. Later. Love you.

Love you too. Dar leaned against the stair railing and smiled, letting her eyes linger over the words before she sent them and tucked the machine away.

A small kiosk caught her eye and she dodged through the crowd, arriving at the souvenir stand without getting run over. The stand had an old photograph of the station, in black and white, with a striking series of sunbeams pouring through the upper windows.

Kerry would most certainly appreciate it. "I'll take one of these." She selected a poster tube and handed over the money for it to the dour, unlit cigar chomping man behind the desk.

"Sure ya don't want it in a nice frame, lady? Got a great bargain here on this one." He indicated an ornate, gilded monstrosity.

"No thanks," Dar politely refused. "I've got to carry it on the plane. This is easier."

"Whatever. Later. G'bye." The man turned to another customer, leaving Dar standing there with her poster in her hand slightly taken aback by the gruff attitude.

Collecting herself, Dar edged against one of the walls and peered around, finally spotting the entrance to the subway. She approached it, pausing a moment before she started down the steps.

The walls were all bright and cheery, but for every second she was on the stairs, Dar was aware of the fact that she was moving further and further under the ground. Her throat went dry, and she swallowed in reflex as she reached the first platform, and was faced with a number of posted signs laying out the different routes.

Dar stopped in front of a subway map, using the excuse of studying it to allow her heartbeat to settle. She could still see the steps up from where she was, and there was sufficient space around her. "Okay." She exhaled, focusing on the maze of colored lines in front of her. After a moment, her brow creased. "Jesus," she muttered. "I've seen spider webs less complicated than this."

The thought of a taxi suddenly became extremely appealing. Dar glanced over her head at the steel infrastructure, wincing a little as some train nearby rattled past and a gust of cold air blew against her. "What in the hell am I doing?"

Seeing if you have any guts at all left? Her inner voice mocked her.

With a scowl, she turned and walked to one of the token machines, studying it for a minute before she inserted a few bills and retrieved a square of cardboard for her troubles. She looked at it, and then her expression brightened. "Hey. I can prove to Kerry I did this."

Looking around to find her route, Dar started off down a passageway, sidestepping a man playing a flute and two women selling bags of... "Hm." She paused and purchased a bag of churros, taking one out to nibble on as she explored further into the maze.

Her selected route was the Times Square shuttle, since that appeared to let out reasonably close to the Intrepid museum, and more importantly, wasn't that far underground. Dar found the correct platform relatively easily, and leaned against the metal support, waiting for the train to arrive.

Okay, so far, so good. Dar glanced around her, and then she walked down the platform to where a small set of steps seemed to lead downward. She peeked down them, spotting more signs leading to more platforms, leading to different trains, which seemed to run in every direction at many different levels.

The complexity and seeming randomness unexpectedly intrigued her. It was almost as though some kids had taken six or seven of their individual train sets and threw them all together, pouring glue on top and hoping for the best.

Dar turned and surveyed the station she was standing on, taking in the tile mosaics, and the patchwork grid of the ceiling beams that crossed and re-crossed each other. The steel members seemed old, almost ancient, though the station tiles appeared new, and the facility was well kept.

Hm.

The train arrived, in a clatter of wheels and a blast of musky air.

Dar waited until the occupants had exited, and most of the people waiting to enter got in. Then she stepped onto the train, appreciating the chill of the air conditioning as she selected a seat on one side, near the back and settled into it.

The train was about half full. Dar studied her subway map, giving the doors an impatient look every few seconds when they obstinately refused to close. As the train sat there, a few late-comers jumped on. One of them, a tall bronze skinned girl in black denim and leather took the seat next to Dar.

They studied each other for a minute. Then the girl lifted one of her leather boot encased feet and put it on her opposite knee. "Yo," she addressed Dar pleasantly. "You ain't from here, huh?"

Dar's eyebrows cocked slightly. Behind her sunglasses, she glanced down at herself, comparing her appearance to the appearance of the rest of the train's occupants.

Hm. Apparently New Yorkers in downtown Manhattan didn't dress like refugees from a Jimmy Buffet concert. "No," she allowed briefly.

"Yeah." The girl folded her arms over her chest. "That's what I figured. Cause us New Yorkers don't go round half naked like that, y'know?"

Since the train wasn't moving, Dar decided conversation wouldn't hurt, and it would keep her mind off the butterflies in her stomach. "Why not?" she asked. "It's a hundred degrees outside."

"Just cause we don't," the girl responded readily. "I mean, you dress like that, you just asking for guys to come out, and be all like, touching you, and all that jazz. You know?"

Dar tilted her head and let her sunglasses drop down on her nose slightly, making actual eye contact with the women. "No, I don't," she drawled, hearing the touch of molasses enter her tone.

"Yo. You got some really cool eyes. I like that color," the woman complimented her. "They real?"

Dar blinked, her brows arching up. Then she realized what the woman meant. "Yeah." She pushed her sunglasses back up and leaned back. "What's with the train?" She changed the subject to one she figured the woman would know better than she did.

"This?" The woman pointed up over her head. "Oh, I don't know. They do that sometimes. Just make 'em stop, bam. Like that."

Erf. Dar glanced at the still open door. Just then, though, the speakers crackled to life over their heads and a gravelly voice intruded into the train.

There has been a power failure up the line and all the trains are stopped. Do not stand in the doorways. The trains can move at any time. Thank you.

It was like an omen. Dar figured. This was God's way of telling her to get the hell off the damn subway and go take a cab like any other self respecting Floridian would. She started to get up, but as she did, the doors whipped closed, and the train started moving unexpectedly, throwing her back into her seat. "Guess we're leaving now," she commented dryly.

"So." The girl edged nearer. "Where ya from, what's ya name?" She held out a hand. "I'm Scuzzy."

Dar eyed her in alarm. It's a sixty second ride, Dar. Deal with it. "Dar. I'm from Miami."

"Cool!" Scuzzy shook her hand firmly. "That's a cool name, and Miami's a cool place," she said.

"Thanks." Dar smiled briefly.

Abruptly, the train slowed and stopped again. Dar glanced outside, and saw nothing but black tunnel walls. Behind her glasses, she closed her eyes and tried not to think about how many tons of granite buildings were perched over her head, pressing down on tunnels she was sure were far too old, based on the ones she'd seen in the station.

"Yo. You like hockey?"

Dar opened one eye. "What?"

"Me and my buds, we're going down to the ice rink and play killer hockey later on, like tonight. You wanna come play? I can see you do somethin' with all them muscles you got."

Dar swore she heard creaking outside.

Subways, she realized, were looking like a bad, bad mistake.

"FUDGE." KERRY GLOWERED at her PDA. "Fudge, fudge, fudge."

"Something wrong, boss?" Mark whispered.

Kerry rocked back in her chair, shedding some of her fidgets. "Ah...Dar's stuck in New York," she sighed. "Maybe until Friday."

The session so far had been nothing more than a recap of the bid request, and then subsequent presentations by the four companies as to how they intended on fulfilling them.

Quest was there along with three of his attendants and four others he'd introduced from his company that were immediately forgettable and seemed more like movie extras than engaged executives.

Mark scribbled a few things on his pad, making a show of paying attention to Michelle Graver's presentation. "Well, she'da been wasted being here. Hell, you're wasted being here. We coulda sent one of the sales interns to do this crap."

"Mm." Kerry had to agree. "It's all a dog-and-pony show." She checked her watch, wishing her turn was over and they at least had the minor entertainment of lunch to look forward to. "Oh well, it's the start off session. I guess it was to be expected. I'm glad Dar's not here."

Totally not true.

"She'd be wigging," Mark muttered wryly.

Totally true.

Actually, Dar would have already left, finding the presentations pointless and the dialog meaningless. She'd probably have been in the taco shop across the road with instructions to call her when something got mildly interesting.

Kerry leaned on her elbow and pictured her partner's restless attitude without any problem at all. Her PDA chirped and she glanced at it, reading Dar's longer, more coherent message absorbedly. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," she groused under her breath. "You're gonna owe me for this, you little southern fried..."

"Uh... Kerry, did you say something?"

Kerry closed her PDA and dragged her attention back to Michelle. "Nope," she sighed. "Isn't it time for lunch, yet?"

Mark looked at his wrist. "It's only eleven o'clock."

"What's your point?" Green eyes studied him from under half lowered lids. "I missed breakfast," Kerry admitted. "I was in a rush this morning because I overslept."

"Forgot the old alarm, huh?"

Kerry managed a wry grin. "My alarm's in Manhattan." She watched Mark's face color a trifle. "You asked."

"Sure did," he agreed ruefully. "TMI, boss. TMI."

"Mm." Kerry listened to the speech with one ear, hopeful she was detecting a sense of closing in Michelle's voice. "Sorry about that. But it's true. Dar's better than any clock I've ever seen, and it's really hard to hit her snooze button." She rested her head on her fist, her eyes traveling slightly as she saw a newcomer enter, walking quietly over to sit by Shari and lean close to talk to her.

Something familiar about the man made her frown, and she nudged Mark's arm slightly. "Who is that guy?"

Mark swiveled in his seat and looked. "Hey...isn't that the guy from Tech TV? The one who was interviewing you and big D?"

Ah. No wonder he looked familiar. "Uh...huh," Kerry mused. "Now, isn't he cozy with the competition. Wonder what's up with that?" The man seemed very friendly with Shari, and as she watched, he took out a pad and a camera, put the camera on the table, and scribbled some notes on the pad. "Ohh...ho. What do you want to bet he's not asking for advice on some DSL routers?"

"So, in sum," Michelle cleared her throat, "we hope to show the kind of value any company looking to outsource their IT solutions has a right to expect." She rested her hands on the lectern. "We hope to open a new era in providing the types of services to all companies that only the largest, richest companies have been able to afford in the past." Her eyes wandered, apparently randomly, to Kerry's and held there for a moment, then moved on.

Kerry deliberately flipped open the top to her PDA and scribbled a note on it, then tapped send.

"Toward that end, I'm sure you'll be delighted to hear, Mr. Quest, we have invited a member of the distinguished technology press to join our bid team and chronicle our progress, and how this challenge evolves into what I'm sure will be a great success for whoever wins it." Michelle went on, smiling easily and giving Shari a knowing look.

"Hm. Somehow I got the impression that Quest dude didn't want this whole thing publicized," Mark muttered under his breath. "He doesn't look real happy."

Kerry observed the forced smile on Quest's face. "No, he doesn't," she agreed, sending a last note on her PDA before she closed it up.