It had been almost two months now since Max Gibson was last back in the City. One mission out of it had turned into another, her time perpetually not her own but given over wholly to the resistance.

She always would come back in the end, though. It was, after all, her base of operations and the center of the Import community still, though she barely considered herself part of that community anymore.

And this time there was more than one thing calling her back. Things were converging, to some extent, and after a few messages she'd received she'd decided she wanted her feet on the ground in the middle of it, ready to go whenever and wherever she was needed. So she'd wrapped up an intel jack and caught a flight to a smaller, less guarded New York airport before taking the train into the City.

It was a fair day when she stepped off the train, tugging her baseball cap down closer over her head. Black haired, average height, average weight, unobtrusive and middle class clothing, a first glance at her was likely to be the only one. She was insignificant, precisely how she liked it, and she took a deep breath of City air and sighed it out.

There were destinations in mind. A Resistance stronghold, for a debrief on her work. Ghost's latest bolthole, to put her bags down and see him, though that one would wait a little longer until she had time to steel herself against the inevitable sorrow of seeing him as he was now. It never got easier. The grocery store for food, a pool for a swim - it had been a long trip away. Messages had been sent out to a few of her contacts to inform them of her arrival. If anyone needed her they'd reach her. Sooner or later she would need to go visit Dick and Terry before they heard she was here and tried to track her down.

Home is where the heart is. Her mouth shaped the words almost absentmindedly as she walked, mocking but still half sincere.