Esperanza Ortega; Wanted for Murder, Theft.

[Pryce]

The Riverside Inn
Room #437
Rexford, Los Angeles
1641 local time

Esperanza Ortega entered her room, locking the door behind her.

She walked to a far corner, if the word far could be used in the description of the room. She knelt, picking up a small device about half the size of her thumbnail, and deactivated it, noting that it had not been triggered prior to her return. The room had not been disturbed; Nor had she expected it to be, but this was a time to be extra alert to such things.


As it always is, I suppose. She thought.


She slid off the straps of the floral print sundress she was wearing, and wriggled out of it as it fell to the carpet. As she stooped to pick it up, she removed her shoes, a rather drab pair of grey pumps. Setting those down on the bed, along with her handbag, she looked into the mirror.



There had often been times she had suddenly become quite wealthy, most often after pulling some job or another; but so much of that wealth always seemed to go right back into prepping the next job, and lately, the returns had been getting smaller and smaller, credits spent more often on needs, and less on wants. That said, her private (or sometimes not so private) joy was her proclivity towards designer lingerie. Though the men that had her likely thought otherwise, she had never worn it for them. She liked the secret and expensive underthings against her, a small, hidden reservoir of womanhood in places stark and savage. She also realized she was perhaps a little bent. She hadn't wasted credits on such extras since she had been back to the core. The credits were too few between, so at least she was practical enough to adjust for that; but still. Bleh. The mirror reflected her rather boring set of white bra and panties.




Turning, she looked over her shoulder with slight difficulty, and frowned as she saw the ugly scars that peppered the left side of her shoulder and somewhat less down her ribs. Her hair, now dyed a rich golden blond, was unhampered by her traditional braid, a hopeful effort to help conceal or otherwise change her known features.




After a shower, she wrapped herself in a hotel robe and lay down on the bed. Resting on her good side, she began to review the scan she'd taken while in the park. She was glad she had taken the trouble, as she immediately saw that this "Haagenti" R&D had made a few improvements to security since Pryce had left.Several things had been added since she made her visits to the Institute last year. The scan revealed sensors beneath the soil, all along the perimeter of the site, and a similar grid along the rooftops of the actual building, and the adjoining parking structure.



She noted with a chill that the sensors were of a sort to be aways on an active scan, meaning that her own scan had probably been detected. Several shielded "boxes" lay beneath the ground around the main building, a possible indication of an automated defence of some sort; Also troubling, though she now admitted she ought to have expected it, was the fact that the interior of the building itself was completely impervious to the scan. The only new knowledge was that the facility apparently extended a healthy five stories underground, fully doubling the amount of space she was expecting to have to cover. The floors themselves, like the above ground portion, also shielded from scans.



What was the mission here?



She had to complete her contract to The Pryce Institute, as prepared by its representative, Doctor Rene Altura. That contract had been to locate and if possible, retreive, any survivors of downed Pryce Research Vessel 201; failing that, she was to ascertain their final fate, and provide evidence of same. She had done what she could, and now needed to find her employer, who seemed to have disappeared.



What might or might not be going on at the employers former address was not her concern.That there was something illegal, something perhaps deeply wrong going on here seemed likely, but she couldn't get sidetracked with this. That said, there seemed to be some indication that the majority of the Pryce teams' departure was not entirely consensual, and the impression that this facility, orchestrated by one Doctor Ulysses Morris, had obtained his new position with other than honourable means.



So what. Ortega had spent most of her life using other than honourable means just to survive.Why deny others the same?


Dammit.



Ortega turned off the scan review, extinguished the lights, and lay back on the pillow. She wished there was someone to share the bed with. Very often, if there was someone to keep her....occupied, the dreams wouldn't come. Or the thoughts she was begining to have now. Finding the remaining crew of the Pryce ship had really got to her, and she had finally started to admit it. She thought about one Denise Ellis, the Captains wife, and remembered the presence of the womans sadness when Ortega had spoken to her. Ortega had visited a few of the families prior to beginning her search, and it was those visits that had given her the drive to continue the course. The result of that course had changed her, and she still wasn't sure what that meant. Regardless, she needed to finish this, she had to find Altura. Proceeding here didn't look to help her with that. Maybe she would come back here later, and deal with Morris on her own time.


But how to find Altura? It seemed as though only a percentage of the Institute had left with Pryce, the remainder being either dismissed or kept on at the new organization. Ortega wasn't sure however, of the percentages of each group. Surely one of these stay-ons would know where their former employer went. If that failed, Ortega might have to travel to Bretonia, and try to locate the seperate facility that had been directed by Doctor Matthew Cook. It was not a prospect she looked forward to. She was known by some in Bretonia, and her stay there would be difficult if she was noticed.


She was thinking of these things when she fell asleep.

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