It was a relief, for Sam, to actually meet someone she once knew in her former life. She had a lot on her mind. Not everyone wakes up to find themselves 10 years in the future. For Sam, it was chance to learn more about the world she'd left behind. The world had changed immensely in her absence. What was a curiosity when she was alive 10 years ago was common place in this day and age. Cybernetic prosthetic limbs had become a mainstay. It had become so affordable that even those with fairly low income could afford such augmentation. However, it was a victim of its own accessibility. Cybernetics became synonymous with gang violence as inner-city thugs utilized them for their own ends. In addition, many politically-motivated militias and insurgent groups have also utilized body augmentations for their own ends. Riptide was quick to point out that her own enhancements were far in advance of anything any one else outside of government employment might possess.

Their conversation stretched on until the sun rose once again. It occurred to Sam that, even though she hadn't seen a sunrise in ten years, it felt as if it were simply the next day and there wasn't any gap in between. Ten years of time slipped away as if it were ten hours of sleep. She couldn't stop looking at it, afraid of appearing rude to her friend who probably didn't mind anyways. Sam couldn't help but adore the soft light that sparkled onto the polished metal of cars parked on the street, the faint morning mist that hung in the air as it was slowly burned away by the rising heat, and the soft shadows gaining definition as the light slowly grows more harsh. Soon, it would be another beautiful summer day.

"Something got your eye?" Riptide asked with a soft smile, easily recognizing Sam's fascination.

"Oh.. nothing really it's just.. the sight of the sun.. and.. well heh.. it just makes me think."

"Well, I can understand that. I doubt many psychologists have dealt with someone coming back to life 10 years later. You're on the cutting edge!"

"Yeah I feel.. great." She answers, sarcastically. However, a smile is apparent on her face. She was finally coming to terms with reality. It was difficult, but it was made easier to do so with the help of someone she once knew. But, one thing still bothered her. Trouble followed in her wake where ever she goes. It brought up a horrifying thought to her. It might end up being for the best that she never let her children know she was alive, again. It's for their own good,  after all. She was unsure. Riptide refused to offer advice, stating it wasn't his decision to make and this was a personal choice she should make on her own. However, he was very willing to fill her in on the latest and greatest toys. "So.. anyways.. any major changes in things that go boom?"

"Mhmm.  Quite a bit. The last ten years have exploded in progress. Especially with the rise of cyborgs. Most weapons aren't very good against cyborgs. They're hardened and a few dinky bullets don't do much to stop them. Wait here. I'll show you." Riptide stands up slowly and walks to the closet in the den. He opens the door and reaches up into the top of the opening. When he pulls his arm out, he presents Sam with an enormous bullet. "They're cannon rounds, essentially 16 Millimeter solid slug. This is what you need to stop a cyborg." He relinquishes the massive round before returning to the closet and hoisting something up with a grunt. When he closes the door, he's holding a large rifle. It's jet black and possesses what looks like a pretty advanced optics set. "This is your typical anti-cyborg rifle, otherwise known as a Cyber Rifle. Meant for cyborgs to be used on cyborgs." He starts to point out the features of the weapon. "25 inch barrel, chambered for that... 12 round magazines.. smart targeting holosight that tells you where to lead. Deadly against cyborgs, useless against those that aren't. This thing weighs a ton, but you'll handle it just fine." He leans the rifle toward Sam, offering it to her. She stands up and grips onto the weapon. Lifting it, it feels very light to her. She examines it carefully for a moment.

"This is... a fucking beast, shit. This is insane. Are cyborgs really this hard to kill?"

"Oh yeah. The more augmented, the more tough they are, usually. You really need to pierce the under armor most have. But, all that wizardry allows the optics to pick one up and lock onto it. It tells you how far ahead you need to lead your shots based on their velocity. That's really nice. Cyborg combat tends to be affairs of quick sprints because of that."

“So, one of these'll down a cyborg in a shot?”

“Not necessarily. Most of the time, it'll just disable one for a good enough period of time to get closer or administer a second shot, a kill shot. So, Sam, I don't think you're getting a third chance on this. So, please.. keep running.. I know how you are. I'm surprised you don't have a body count yet.”

“...Ehhhh yeah about that..”

“You're seriously not even back for 24 hours and you've already got a body count..? Seriously, Sam?”

“Hey, hey they were thugs. Body traffickers, pimps, you know? Scum.”

“Well, not a lot has changed, I'm sure you've noticed. We've just seen a change in how the methods are performed.”

Sam rubbed her forehead before standing up with the rifle. She motioned to return it, but Riptide merely pushes it back “No, you keep it, you need it more than I do. Believe me, I wasn't thinking straight when I bought it. Big sexy bore, slick black finish? But, I didn't think of how awful the recoil would be.” He laughs, rubbing his shoulder as he recalls a few days of soreness. “Although, on moment...” He returns to the closet and comes back with a frame-like holster for the weapon. It has a similar connection that her sword's scabbard had. 

Sam raises her arm and allows Riptide to access her opposite hip where he'd find the point of attachment. It clicks in and she feels that same tingly chill she experienced with the sword. Within moments, she found she could manipulate and move it about without effort.

“So, that's why it needs a fancy connection. Cool.” Riptide comments, hand to chin and watching on with curiosity.

“Yeah, it's real nice for this.” Sam taps the holster of the blade before continuing. “It'll follow my hand no matter what.” Extending her right arm out, the mechanically armed scabbard follows suit. When her hand splays, the CO2 pumps blast their propellent with a small white plume of quickly dissipating gas. It hurls the sword right up into her hand. With a smile, she finishes “C'mon, tell me that isn't cool as hell!”

“Yeah, that actually was. What about the rifle?”

After clicking the sword back into its sheath,  Sam grips the rifle and examines its framed holster. The arm swings forward and offers up a convenient angle for her to set the rifle into it. The moment it lines up just right, hard plastic arms close around it at the barrel, stock, and pistol grip. “Well, I would've killed for that 70 years ago. Maybe not the insane cartridge, but that's nice.” The holster swings to her side and she squats down a few times. Every time she deeps close to the ground, the holsters for rifle and sword both rotated out to match her tail's own movement. “Ohh, so it's like.. slaved to my tail. That's clever. Well, I shouldn't be a nuisance for much longer. I think I almost gave you a heart attack!” She laughed, letting her fist fall on Riptide's shoulder.

He returned the laugh before wrapping arms around her again and hugging one more time “And.. I don't think I've ever seen you, of all people, cry before.”

“..Yeah can we keep that a secret? You try waking up one day to find out you died and ten years have passed.”

“I'll try my best!” He teased in return. “Stay safe, Sam, please. Last time I said good bye to you.. well you know.”

“I will. Hey, I'll come back and visit after I get this shit sorted out, you know? Don't YOU go croaking on me now.”

“Croaking? I was firing that beast you got now just last week, I'm more concerned with you. But, seriously, you come back after you got.. what you want sorted. Promise?”

“Absolutely! Take care.” Sam turned for the open window and was about to step through it before Riptide cleared his throat. She looked back, one of her sky blue eyes glowing through her reddish purple hair.

“You can use the front door.”

“Oh.. Haha, yeah of course. Later, Rip.”

She closes the ornate wooden door behind her and pauses on the sidewalk. It really was a nice neighborhood. She strolled a leisurely pace, allowing the final bits of her puzzle to fall into place. She reconciled the reality of the situation and accepted that she made the best she could of the time she had with past acquaintances. Riptide was a fluke, a chance occurrence, and she didn't expect others to still be alive and kicking. Plus, she had new acquaintances. We pause to remember the departed, but we shouldn't dwell for long. The living are more important. It was a puzzle that was almost together. Once it was, she could go about making the best of her second adulthood. However there still remained a single obstacle in her path, a single fact of her life that would prevent her from peace and ultimate happiness. Then again, Sam was never one for peace, but this was very personal. She still needed to confront her daughters. But, a new option dawned on her, altogether. Maybe she shouldn't? It would be better in the long run to not let her daughters know she was alive. Riptide was right, trouble follows her where ever she went and she didn't want them getting used as leverage. It seemed like the easier option, too. Just forget they exist, right?

No, how could she? They were her family. They were the most precious thing she could have possessed. Living without them was agony. She had returned to life for only a day and it already was the longest day of her conscious life. But, to confront them was to risk rejection. They weren't raised to be bubbly little lipstick applicator, but smart independent women that thought for themselves and acted on a logical basis and not an emotional one. The circumstances she was placed in were utterly illogical as to be tantamount to a dream come true. She felt pain, she bled, she even met people at a time in their lives she'd have no way of knowing what they'd even look like. This was all very much real and not a concoction of her mind.

Her choices were clear. One had a defined outcome which she didn't like and the other was one of uncertainty. It dawned upon her that she would probably out live them as well. In 50-60 years, she'd be burying her children or watching them be laid to rest. The old adage of 'be careful what you wish for; you may just get it' seemed to ring very true. No matter what, the end result was pain. But, surely, that's life to begin with. Eventually, there is always a last meeting with someone and what matters most is making the best of the time prior to that. It was of little comfort to Sam as she walked slowly back to the airport, taking her time to think. What if Ronnie could work his magic on her kids? Maybe lengthen their lives? No, she shoved the thought out of her head very quickly. Only if they wanted to and only if they wanted to share the same fate as her of living out a second life in shadows and watching loved ones pass on all around them. It was a silly prospect, anyways. But, how else was she to feel? No matter how she looked at it, it seemed as if despair was going to be a constant companion.

Her expression scowled angrily and muscles, both natural and artificial, tightened up. She felt sad and that distinctive heaviness between the eyes when crying is about to commence. She refused to. She'd wept enough already, the waterworks would get you no where. It made her feel like she was 7 all over again. Her beloved and caring parents made sure her education was the best and that was possible through the finest private schools. She remembered all the other kids teased her, called her a monster, and always made up stories about how she ate swimmers at the pool. She would go home and cry. She remembered her first job and her first boyfriend. She vividly remembers crying alone in the darkness of his basement until he forced her to rob a bank. Crying always marked points of weakness in her life and she hated it then and she abhors it now. Not even death, it could seem, would hold her back. She caused a bully to hurtle out a window and break a leg when she slapped him. All the kids ratted her out, but since the teaching staff were above the petty school yard pecking order laid out by kids, they assumed they were trying to get her blamed. She never so much got a scolding for that one. She liked to tell people she murdered her ex when she came back from that first bank job. In actuality, she only kicked him out of a moving car after he made the mistake of picking her up from that bank heist. 

Her expression was clear as the day, a grimace of anger and determination as she strolled quietly down the side walk, passing a young couple. They were some kind of canine, she didn't know or care. One of them made the mistake of speaking up with an roll of her eyes “Weeeiirdo..”

Sam whips around at the comment and draws her blade, pointing it at them. “HAAAAAAAAAAAAHH! Why don'cha say that when you don't have a beefy boyfriend to protect you, cunt? Or, in your case, an emasculated beta-male! Why can't you stand on your own two fucking feet! I seen you're type before: cute little girl, apple of daddy's eyes, gets spoiled rotten, probably walked all over a lot of youngsters, thinks she can get a free ride? Well, your luck just ran out bitch. Drop your purse.”

The terrified girl and her boyfriend looked to each other, then back to Sam. “..excuse.. m-”

“DROP YOUR GOODS, BITCH!” Sam screams out in rage. Quickly the pair discard anything of value, hysterical in their terror. Sam swings her blade at them and yells “NOW, RUN! RUN! BOTH OF YOU!” She laughs maniacally as the pair take flight. “GO POST ABOUT IT ON YOUR SOCIAL MEDIA AND CRY ABOUT IT ON WEB CAMERA! GO HAM UP YOUR ORDEAL AS IF IT WERE THE WORST THING EVER! CRY TO DADDY! HE MIGHT GET YOU MORE MONEY! CRY TO YOUR FRIENDS, YOU MIGHT RAISE YOUR SOCIAL STATUS THROUGH BEING A VICTIM! BUT, GOD FORBID YOU STAND YOUR GROUND, YOU FUCKING WEAKLINGS! HAHA!!” She smiled to herself before sliding the sword back into its hold. Squatting, she gathered up what money she could from their belongings and continued on her way once more.

She reached behind her neck and clicked on her communications implant. “Hey Rodney, you there?”

“.. Sam.!? Oh Sam! Awesome, I was getting worried. What's up..? I mean I hate to seem familiar-”

“Hey, be as familiar as you like. Life's short. Enjoy it. I need your help.”

“What can I do?”

“First a question.. how come my sword holster seems to be in the right position without fail?”

“Oh that's the internal programming. It scripts itself to do just that without you having to think about it.”

“That's really cool. Ok, so I need you to find me a flight back into your neck of the woods. I can't get into the airport directly, I might've found a.. what was it called.. oh a cyber rifle.”

“How in the hell did you get one of those, that's a big ass cannon!”

“I'll explain later, just get me a flight. Tell me registration number and all that shit.”

“Ok, it'll take a bit, but I'll get back to you!”

When Ronnie did get back to her, the process ran much in the same manner it did coming here. Sneaking aboard the cargo hold of an airplane and taking the epitome of coach in the opposite direction. This time, she wasn't able to find a decent little nook to tuck into and spent the better part of a half hour playing hide and seek with the cargo handlers. Once again, the moment the thundering wheels of the airplane left the ground, Sam found herself alone in her thoughts. With a stomp, she crossed her arms and resolved to make a decision. She wanted to get over this hurtle, here and now. It was holding her back and she hated it. She settled on her decision very quickly: She'd leave them be. With a hard swallow and grunt, she reconciled it in her mind that it would be for the best to not encounter them. Momma died 10 years ago. Momma was also a rebellious vigilante cyborg, so it's probably for the better that they remember her for being the gentle and loving mother she knew she was. She didn't want to tarnish that for them, either. It was decided. She would settle for protecting the pair from the shadows. It surprised her, too. She felt a sense of satisfaction with the decision. They might talk about how luck they were to a coworker and, all the while, it wasn't luck but it was her.

She laughed once and sat onto a particularly large suit case  before getting lost in thought. It seemed as vivid as yesterday. The yesterday 10 years ago, of course.  She was driving home a pair of beautiful babies in her passenger seat. She'd spent a half hour strapping the seat in just right and, for the first time in her entire adult life, she paid close attention to the speed limit. It was also the first time she noticed how utterly awful drivers were! She carried the two infants inside and immediately laid them out in their cribs in the room she spent a week decorating and preparing. She was absolutely terrified. She was a single mother raising a pair of twins. Those two little Sand Tigers lay peacefully in their cribs and Sam didn't get a wink of sleep that night. They grew so fast, it seemed. Soon they were playing in her back yard and it came as a relief to Sam that her efforts in making that tree house were not squandered, after all. They were utterly inseparable from birth. That first night, they squirmed and whimpered all through it until Sam figured out to lie them together. They actually slept in the same crib until they graduated to beds.

She laughed once with the warm delight of remembering the first time one of them found a date, leaving the other quite jealous. It occurred to Sam that maybe memories were enough. Maybe she should look at it from a different perspective, after all. She was dead, at least to them, but this way she was getting a chance at seeing how they grow and succeed. It was an unprecedented blessing to be given and there wasn't a parent in history that had received this before. She would be thankful with what she had, cherish warm memories of her children, and watch as they grew more, started families, careers, and attained what she wanted for them: happiness.

A thump of turbulence woke her from her meditation. She clicked on her communications array and quickly called Ronnie. “Hey Ronnie, how long have I.. well been up..?”

He responds in a worried tone “You've got 20 minutes before you land, but Sam something's happening. The police, they're.. they're sending riot units to the entire western portion of the city limits and.. Sam I looked at KITT's database, I know where you went.. Shady Pines. I'm sorry, that's where they're headed.”

Sam's heart sank the moment she heard this. “It's that little shit Butch! That little fucker probably cried to daddy and got this done. Ok. Ok. You wanna fuck with me..  Ok I'll give him what he wants.”

“What do you mean? Sam, you didn't like.. tell him you had family there? That'd be stupid..”

“No, I didn't. He's still a threat to them because of me. I'm going to fuck him up.”

“Sam, listen to yourself, he's a fucking giant bastard! He'll tear the damn place apart to get to you if you're there!”

“He's going to do it regardless of whether I'm present or not. I'm gonna put him down like an animal. And you're going to help me.”

“Oh no, I'm not getting in-”

“Yes, you are. You know you don't have a choice. Besides, my request is simple: Get them out. You have their addresses, their names are Erin and Denise Saiga. Get them out of there however you can. Call me when you do. I will cut a fucking swathe through anyone who stands before him before I turn him into a corpse.”

Her mind was clear, her goal was set, and she stomped to the rear cargo hatch of the airplane. The CO2 blasts the sword into her grip and she swings it into a resting position as she listens to Ronnie protest. “Sam! You can't go in there alone. There's an army of riot cyborgs and they're all looking FOR you!”

“Good! I like knowing I'm still the most wanted!” With a laugh, she carves up the door, letting the metal slabs tear away from the aircraft. Air rips into the cargo as the airplane screams over city streets below. They're low, letting Sam make out fine details below. She steps out into the slipstream and feels the air blast against her as she free falls. The airplane tore away from her as she descended. Her legs yank forward to cushion the landing. When she slams down, the asphalt row craters below her. Standing up, she scans her surroundings and focuses in on a pair of startled riot police standing next to what looks more like a tank than a standard patrol car. The two cops seem intrigued at the cyborg, being augmented themselves. 

“Hey you. That's destruction of public property. You also fit the description of a suspect we're looking for. You wanna coopera-”

Sam interrupts him with a quick dash. She swings her heated blade low and quickly severs his legs at the calves. Before he even screams out, she's pulling the blade high. The other cop is drawing his pistol, but before he can level his weapon to fire, the glowing orange edge of the sword cuts through his arms. Her boot sends him sprawling to his back. She turns to the first cop, who is rolling to his front. “No. “ She steps up inside the armored vehicle and looks it over. It's pretty simple, so within the order of a few seconds, the massive transport lurches forward. Only a few moments into the ride, she notices there's a radio in the cockpit of the armored vehicle. Of course there would be a radio of some kind, so she turns it on and listens in. 

She hoped that Ronnie would go through with her demand.