I was in. Corporations are paranoid as fuck-all, though, and I didn’t put it past them to put ICE in their own system. Digital watchdogs that wouldn’t hesitate to lock my system and use my own gear to flat-line my brain, send me into shock.

Not a pretty way to die.

I found a rental directory and put a slow-worm on it, masked as an anti-viral utility. Come back to it later. I punched up, inverted dive through scintillating layers of information. Responded to a red-tagged malfunction in a 22nd floor suite, fixed it and moved on, leaving plenty of data to trace. Just Corpie Joe, fixin’ your shit. Activated the camo again, punched through a barrier-wall with a breaker. Tagged the malfunction. Camo off, fixed it and leave a fast-line back through a hairline crack.

Gotta get out somehow.

Camo on, up. Worked my way up. Meatside, I felt sweat on my brow, but it was distant, far gone. It took three hours for the worm to feed the data back to me.

Suite 3503. Lancombe, WorldChem Bioscience.

Good. Now for security.