The alarm was too early and too loud. The incessant blaring tore into Cooper’s soul, and effectively cemented the heaviness he was already feeling. He dressed and exited his room to find Isabella crouched against the wall, facing his door. She seemed wary, but the fact that she was still here, was as good as sign as any.

“Morning,” Cooper mumbled. She arched her eyebrows and turned on her heel, striding towards the elevator. Cooper followed suit, and thought over his plan to help this young girl exact revenge.

They exited the hotel, and made a quick right, headed towards a flashing sign promising the best pancakes they had ever eaten.. Cooper order pancakes, Isabella simply ordered coffee. The sat across from each other in silence for a moment, as Cooper tore into the hot pancakes. He thought they might have been the tastiest food he had ever had.

After a few bites, Cooper sat his fork down, looked at Isabella, and asked, “Does it bother you, you know, when, uh…you have to hurt someone?”

“No.”

“What about when you ..um…well…”

“Kill them?”

“Yeah,” Cooper nodded in affirmation and continued to eat his breakfast.

“No, most of the time, they have been trying to kill me, so I die or they die. I rather like living.”

“So it is a simple transaction, life for life?”

Isabella nodded, “It probably isn’t that simple, but the moment leaves little time to contemplate the deeper meanings of life and death. For so long, I have burned with the need for revenge, to hurt the people who have hurt me. And I am not done yet.”

Isabella glared out the window, casting her dark mood out across the people on the sidewalk.

“When-” Cooper began.

“I don’t know,” she answered with a low mumble, “I don’t know how long or how much or how many. When every person connected with Spade industries is dead? When I get tired of feeling my own pain and become my own last victim? Maybe when I slip up and they finally get me?”

Cooper stared at his eating companion and sought some kind of wise answer. But he was feeling a little out of his element. Emotional pain was like steroids in the old major league baseball, something you were sure existed but you ignored it and hope it would go away. Of course, it ended up bringing the MLB to it’s knees, something unexplored emotional pain was likely to do as well.

“Let’s do something to help someone,” Scott blurted out. Pain given for pain had been the cycle they had found themselves on the ship. Hurting those who would want to hurt you, but you couldn’t live a whole lifetime like that could you?

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know..maybe use this money we have and help people. Like..uh..we can buy everybody’s breakfast!”

Isabella shook her head, “What good would that do? Please some karma ledger somewhere? As if the blood of my father’s killers could be so easily washed away?”

“No, it’s not really formulaic – it’s more of a spitting into the downpour if you will.”

“Huh?”

“Well, “ Cooper thought for a moment, “It means you realize that you can’t make that much of a difference with a single action. Buying people’s breakfast, really won’t change the world. It won’t stop the pain or the suffering most people experience. But you do it anyways…as if you are defiantly demanding justice and good be part of this world.”

“Defiantly demanding justice from who?” Isabella questioned.

“The world, reality, culture, I don’t know…just acting because we can.” Cooper shot up and shouted, “Everyone listen up…breakfast is on me. So eat up!”

At first people just stared, but as Cooper insisted and repeated himself applause broke out, and a chorus of thank yous. Cooper’s face beamed, but Isabella seemed to be trying to sink further into the booth, hiding from the commotion. When Cooper prodded her to get up, she abruptly finished her coffee, “I need some fresh air.”

By the time the bill was settled Cooper felt like he was walking on air. To him it felt like his old playing days, the feeling he got when the crowd would rise to their feet to cheer him on his home run trot around the bases. The sun seemed brighter the air fresher. Isabella was standing with her arms crossed, next to a green metal trash can. People had made some attempt to get trash in the general vicinity of the cylinder, but actually getting it in seemed to be just too much to trouble.

“Happy with yourself?” Isabella asked accusingly.

“Definitely, “ Cooper answered.

Isabella sniffed dismissively, “And what if one of those people works for Spade? Or if somebody calls the cops or the news and you have to explain the what and the why of buying breakfast for total strangers? Was it worth the happy, glowly, warm fuzzy feelings you got?”

Cooper stopped smiling for a moment and considered. “Yes, now come on we have to get away from here. Let’s find a place to access the web and search for information.”

Isabella stalked off down the street, “fine”.

They stopped at a small internet cafe that catered mostly to lan gamers, but also allowed you computer usage for a fee. As Cooper sat down in front of the computer, Isabella glanced around and then held out her hand. “Give me some of the money. I am going to procure some supplies for our journey.”

Cooper glanced around the room and say a particularly rough looking crowd towards the back of the room. “You mean weapons, don’t you?”

Isabella smiled sweetly, “Guns and knives are a girls best friends.” She grabbed a wad of cash and strode confidently towards the group.

Scott thought about telling her to be careful, but thought it might be easier to warn the tough looking crowd in the back. Instead, he turned back to his monitor and began to search for Spade holdings in or around San Francisco. There were several and he jotted those down. He was about to shut the computer down when another thought struck him. He googled recent news and found an article about the explosion at the port last night. As the page loaded, he inhaled sharply. There staring back at him was the man from the port authority. He was alive in that picture, but Scott knew that was no longer true. The tragic details of a man leaving behind a wife and small children made Scott’s stomach twist into knots. He copied the name and pasted it into google’s search engine. He found an address- and knew immediately what he needed to do. He took a portion of the money and headed up to the front counter. “You got a envelope and stamp I can borrow?” Scott asked.

Scott placed the money inside the envelope. Should he write a note? What would it say? Better to just send cash, he thought to himself. After licking the envelope and closing it – he held it up to Isabella who was still negotiating in the back and mouthed the words “Be right back”. Isabella waved him out the door.

Scott walked over to the familiar blue mail receptacle. He opened the lid and dropped in the envelope. As he straightened back up, he felt something cold and metallic pressed into his back. “No sudden movements or noise.”