As the cab approached her home, Ren sighed heavily. When the vehical stopped, she paid the man, who looked at her questioningly. She tipped him heavily and shook her head. The man pulled away as dropped her duffel at her feet.

She stood there, not so much in shock, but semi defeated; as she gazed upon the ashes that were the only remains of her home. Evidence of the hardware that was once stored in the weapons room were everywhere. The smell of gunpowder, melted plastic and the other items that were once 'her things' were still pungent even though it was quiet obvious that the fire was at least two weeks old. Pulling out her cell, she called her handler and long time friend and mentor, Berlin.

The conversation didn't last long. There was no need. After that she googled on her phone. Then she opened her text messages and wrote to Georgia.

Booked a room at the Hotel St. Marie, its over on Toulouse St. Meet me at One Eyed Jacks. How's 8? Its 80's night there from what I understand.

Snapping the phone shut, she heafted her duffle bag on her shoulder and began to walk towards the Hotel St. Marie. She stopped. Another smell invaded her senses. It was familiar. But from a time long ago. It was one she'd never forget. And it did not bode well for her. Or for those she cared about. She was going to need help. She had to find the cat.