IC: "A Case of Identities", The bodies get moved from point A to point B omae... Options

[onlyghostdancesw...]

This is the IC thread for the SR4 Campaign: A Case of Identities

Link to the OOC/Recruitment Thread is Here.

Calendar Link for the Year 2072 (to help you pick the days ie mon tues weds etc)

Format Post as follows:

hh:mm:ss (Specific Day) November 1, 2072 Location
Character Name

Thoughts are in italics and khaki
Electronic communication is in pink

"Spoken Words are in QUOTES."

NAMES are in BOLD

please note in OOC when you are using a dif language.

ALSO: NO sigs in IC posting please.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

They say Atlantis fell in a single day and night of misfortune. Some say that Atlantis fell because it's rulers became to power-hungry, too focused on their own worlds,
and not enough on the world they lived in and ruled. If that's true, frag, if any of that's true, then I really hope, chummer, that history doesn't repeat itself.
Each year the corps grow more powerful, more sodden in the wealth of the oppressed... As they say, the rich get richer and the poor... well the poor get to avoid becoming reprocessed
organs on the chopping block of someone who owns more of the world than them.

Now I know this isn't really a bright way to begin a post thats supposed to chronical the lives of those in the shadows but that's my job and frankly, some days
(thank you very much Jack), I really have to work to not feel the gloom around here. I mean c'mon omae! The boards are filled day in and day out with the death(s)
of the more notable members of the scene along with the wierd, the freaky, and to be quite honest the insane things that go on in this sprawl we call home.

You're probably wondering why I'm writing this post; "Why on EARTH would you take your time to catalogue the minor players in the shadows Redrage? Sure, some of those in these annals may become one of us but why bother caring when 80% of these greenies won't make it past their first run?" Well, to be honest, it's cause I owe FastJack a favor, and as we all know, he has a penchant for archiving things about the life in the shadows. So here I am, keeping a record of those too smart and those too dumb to succeed, in the hopes that others learn at least a little bit, that those who read this, since it'll be posted to shadowsea, learn enough to give them an edge.

They call us shadowrunners because we live in those cast by the gleaming corporate towers... I say that those fragging towers better watch out...after all whenever you turn on a light, hasn't the darkness always been there first? Sure omae, it flees from the light, because the light can be brutal and more powerful at times, but the darkness can sometimes swallow the light... I say let those who would stomp us into the ground be warned, they may find sooner or later that history does repeat itself; after all power is the beauty that many seek, and as the old saying goes:

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder..."


- Redrage


Comments:

22:32:04 Friday, September 30, 2072

You know... some days I really channel the anti-establishment hate. I don't usually post religious stuff to the boards as you folks all know but this strongly reminds me of a really nifty verse I learned
when I was a kid (you know...when I actually HAD a family...back before the motherfragging reactor decided that my little neighborhood should be remodeled into Glow City?).

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:

A time to be born and a time to die,
A time to plant and a time to uproot,
A time to kill and a time to heal,
A time to tear down and a time to build,
A time to weep and a time to laugh,
A time to mourn and a time to dance,
A time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
A time to embrace and a time to refrain,
A time to search and a time to give up,
A time to keep and a time to throw away,
A time to tear and a time to mend,
A time to be silent and a time to speak,
A time to love and a time to hate,
A time for war and a time for peace.

-- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, the Bible, New International Version.

I believe the Bible is divinely inspired; in its entirety the inerrant Word of God and the complete revelation of His will for the salvation of man, and the Divine and ultimate authority for all Christian faith and life.

- Neo Believer

22:36:42 Wednesday, September 30, 2072

Aww man chummer, religious stuff late at night? Have you been hitting the deep again neo?

- CynicalParadigm01

22:37:21 Wednesday, November 9, 2072

Hey man you didn't let me finish my post... My main point, however far I've gone from your typical perfect life with 2.67 kids per household,
these Christian guys still got something right; they list everything you have to do but there is also alot of good advice there for those of
us in the shadows... Particularly that bit about a Time for war...right now I REALLY hope we here on the boards follow that chummers, be good
for the rest of us...

- Neo Believer

22:48:22 Wednesday, November 9, 2072

Fyi if anyone is looking for work I've got a hit lined up that really capitalizes on this theme, check me out on pms.

- Neo Believer

[onlyghostdancesw...]

15:32:24 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Forbidden Pleasure
Jens

Thump thump thump; as the thrash rave vibe resonated from the speakers above the main dance floor of Forbidden Pleasures the sound seemed to echo straight down Jen's spine and into his aching head. It had been days since he had had some solid food and tonight was looking to be yet another one of those times; no matter how much he needed that soul satisfying substenance his heart fought it every step of the way.

"Man, omae... What a wicked set they're jamming out there eh?" As Jen's turned toward the corroded faux-mahogany bar, he realized the odd voice was issuing from a heftily cromed out troll sitting in the corner of the angled bar. He hadn't been able to see him when he came in due to the mix of shadows and blind spots coming from the front door; Jens immediately had the impression, as with every time he came face to face with Bianca's Bouncer, Rick, that any hostile intentions towards the establishment would not be intent on hostilities very long.

Jen had had opportunites to see Rick in action early on in the days after his life was ripped from his hands and fed to the ever consuming life that was the daily lot of a shadowrunner, and a more understated name or creature could hardly be imagined. Rick took Jen's normal moody silence for acceptance and validation of the wickedness of the set and leaned a little closer before whispering to Jen, "Lady Boss wants you upstairs; says she's got a scan that needs working."

Jens heaved a sigh of apprehension...It all started like this the last time too...The invitation to come up to her bar, the smooth sailing until I came to Grigg's and then everything went wrong... The raw memories of the failure of the last job Bianca had given him before the calamity that caused him to go into hiding these past few months, still richocheted around inside his head. Everything had gone so smoothly as the team left the house but that damned need to pry into what did not belong to him had caused the dwarf to peak at the package...

2 months now and Jens could still not feel that what remained of his soul since that fate-filled day when he met Raz-Al was still whole, still preciously his... That portrait had sucked the very life essence out of his body, him and all the runners with it. Only grave action had allowed him to survive when all the others had become nothing more than pawns in the hands of a much mightier cause...

[onlyghostdancesw...]

15:32:24 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Deep in The Stream
Nym

101001001001001001111....The Stream always relaxed Nym in ways nothing in the meat-world could; being lost and floating the countless bits and pixels of innumerable mountains of data and rushing torrents of factoids left little of the real Nym to be found for the corporate wolves who sucked the life from this destitute world. It was in the sheer overabundance of data that Nym had always found the most safety, always aeons too late for anyone to use it against him he was always flitted from one voice to another, following the call of the Alias.

He breathed in, for once secure in the presence of so much data as he realized once again that his self-searching could find nothing relevant on a job done well yet again. Well, at least the Johnson should be pleased, he specified no trails that lead back to him, no strings, nothing and he certainly has that now...., as Nym relaxed in the swirl of data trailing from the thousands of false leads planted around the freshly minted case of SINS by his feet, he felt the familiar tug of someone attempting to get in contact with his drop box. Sighing to himself he pulled his mental focus away from the artistic streamers of data and submerged into his only contact with the outside world.

<<15:33:24 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 - Hey baby, you know it's been a long time since we saved the world together but I bet your probably still out there... Anyways, I've got a job for whatever personality you are wearing these days. Call Me - Moxie>>

[onlyghostdancesw...]

15:32:24 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Flaherty's
Owen

"That is why we cannot let these freaks take the election! We are by rights the true citizens of this magnificent city and the world at large and we need not have them co-mingle with us! After all, it is for their own good, keeping the races separate but equal protects them from us and us from them! Who here could not let a child grow in peace where he or she might otherwise die?!" Owen sat at the back of the 120 year old bar, lost in the crowd of younger human rights activists from the local Humanis Policlub, listening to the fiery female orator perched on the back of the long hardwood bar. Certainly the young men, all of them in their mid- to late- twenties were unabashed enthusiasts for this woman who had professed to be in town as a guest of the Brackhaven's beleaguered campaign to regain dominance after the crushing defeat in the last election, though whether that was because she was a voluptuous female or the content of her speech was not even a topic of discussion.

As the speech droned on for several more minutes, Owen's reflections on the world at large were interrupted by a message lighting up the corner of his link

<<15:38:24 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 - Hey Owen, caught something that might tickle your fancy... did you hear about Evo moving out in a big way by the docks? More so than usual I mean; after all they own alot of it but theres something bouncing around for sure... had a Johnson looking for workers, smelled like Evo to me. Can I hook you up? - I-IN-SKY>>

[onlyghostdancesw...]

15:32:24 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Snohomish/Cascade Border
John Around Him

"And that is why, my friends, the white man still poses a danger to us, even now. He comes in with his corporations, ever hungry to take back that which we rightfully liberated with the blessings of the spirits..." The rover rattled down the rough stone and dirt path to the rendezvous on the edge of the Cascades and Snohomish, the one spot that the metroplex guards weren't... sufficiently motivated to refuse palm lubricant. The radio fuzzed out as John turned his vehicle totally to silent and let the chameleon coating do its work. Three minutes later lights pulsed in the distance and a small buggy trundled out from where it had been hiding in a thicket of bushes no more than 2 meters away. These guys were good, always were, but then again they had to be... moving donors across national and corporate lines required a measure of finesse that surpassed most smuggling operations, tonight however was not yet another relocation of slabbed donors but a more esoteric cargo, most probably of tempo and it's like, for the local Tamanous distribution chain and it had gone easier than usual.

The buggy pulled up to the back of John's rover while he popped the back hatch and opened the smuggling compartment, before trundling the chest over to the waiting ork. "Everything went well as usual Ross. I hope they know that I'm a loyal friend of the organization?" Ross chuckled and leered at John, "Sure thing John, always a pleasure doing business with ya. You coming across with us tonight?" As he opened the chest to check the contents Ross tossed a credstick to John with his free hand, "We'll want a bit o' that back if you have a mind too, crossing has become more dangerous of late."

[Seth]

15:32:24 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Forbidden Pleasure
Jens

Jens mind flashed back to the last time he had spoken to Bianca.

It was just after the disastrous affair of the man eating painting. That crazy dwarf had to look at the parcel, see what it was: "If the Johnson is double crossing us, we need to..." were the last things that Jens remembered.

He had woken up days later in a bed with silk sheets in Forbidden Pleasures. The terrible hunger lasted for days: Nothing Jens could do would asuage it. Even now Jens could remember the faces of all the people that Bianca had thrown in the room with him. Eventually he had regained a sense of self, and Bianca had wanted to know what had happened and where the painting was. Jens was unable to answer her questions, although he had some of his own "Who was the Mr J?", "Where did the painting come from?", "What was it?".

Once Jens had been well enough to work, he had headed to his friend and mentor, the leader of the Brotherhood of the Damned. Even Raz Ah Ghoul had been at a loss to explain what had happened, although it was sufficiently interesting to him to warrent extended investigation. The last two months had been test, after sample, after prod, after poke. Raz was "building up a theory" at the moment: which probably meant that he didn't know. Still Raz was a medical adept specializing in the human/metahuman vampire virus. It was only a matter of time before he worked out what was happening. Or so Jens kept telling himself.

Enough woolgathering, it was not a good idea to keep Bianca waiting. Jenss nodded, moved to the staircase behind Rick, and started climbing, his feet absolutely silent on the thick red pile carpet. Halfway up the stairs he pauses with a sense of deja vu. Unlike last time he wasn't nervous. With the loss of his soul, he had lost a great deal of his capacity to fear.

At the top of the stairs, Jens pauses. The window overlooking the alley was dark, and made a near perfect mirror. In the mirror was a tall dark handsome man. Jens was wearing his normal around town town set to 'dull respectable'. Probably not the best when seeing Bianca: she had standards. With another muttered word, and a few gestures, his clothes flow and morph. Jens nodded in approval: Slick spray on leather with blood red garnet earrings, was much more in your face Vampire Chic. The long sleeves hid the now fading scars.

Walking down the corridor, Jens pauses at the entrance to the Bianca’s bar. Like her the bar was a combination of stylish sexy, and incredibly scary. Black wood panelling, with a red carpet. Gold trimmings on the ornaments. Two chaise lounge faced each other, with a large table between them. The table still had stains on it, and a few scars on its legs where the handcuffs had been used. It was like the altar in a B movie. Bianca kept it around to scare visitors, and even with Jen's reduced emotional capacity it was working. To the back was the bar counter with a wide range of expensive looking drinks for humans.

Bianca looks up from the couch as Jens enters. She was wearing one of those incredibly expensive moonlight silk cocktail dresses. Waving at the other couch, she gestures Jens to sit down. On the table were two glasses full of a thick red liquid. Walking confidently Jens settles down on the other couch, takes a glass and toasted Bianco.

"A pleasure as always Bianca. How may I help you?"

[onlyghostdancesw...]

15:33:24 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Forbidden Pleasure
Jens

Bianca smiled at Jens in that wolfish way only she knew how, both enticing and feral at the same time, and purred, "But of course I am always here to help you my pet." Taking Jens awkward silence for an answer she rose and gracefully flowed across to where he was sitting. "My dear I am so terribly concerned about you since you left my tender arms.... have you been eating?" Jens stuttered, "Ah, hmm, of course Ma'am, you should know that better than most..."

Bianca let the awkward silence extend for a moment almost as if to check to see how Jens had matured during the long recovery before casually handing him a slim piece of e-paper. "This is nothing really but I want my prize in the field doing things for me. I have a friend who needs some... loyal members for a cause. This shouldn't be too stressful for you my pet, just a simple redirection of incoming citizens into a better life, one filled with new... prospects."

[Seth]

15:34:00 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Forbidden Pleasure
Jens

Jens scanned the e-paper while keeping half his attention on Bianca. "Looks straightforward". Jens paused. "Well I have some questions: you taught me that. They are probably best left for the meeting with the Fixer though. On the subject of questions, do you have any more information about that soul eating painting?"

[Panzergeist47]

15:38:30 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Location
Owen

Owen finished off his pint, chuckling inwardly at the rapt attention some of the other patrons were devoting to the sermon of one Miss Carrie Langer. He could remember being that young - young enough to fervently believe this crap and young enough to be so goddamn amazed by a pair of tits.

But well, you couldn't be too picky when running the shadows. Trolls may be dumb as a sack of bricks, Orks not much better and Stunties as neurotic as they came, but when the chips were down, it was far better to run with people who didn't feel like stabbing you in the back, and keeping your views to yourself.

Well, aside from Elves, but those arrogant cocksuckers brought it on themselves. They'd cross any of the 'lesser species' the moment they stopped being 'useful', just look at what happened to Ireland and Oregon... 'Course, the alcohol in his system, and the vitriol of the lovely miss Langer might have something to do with his present mood.

Speaking of Langer, he hadn't shown up here just for the pleasure of her (and a couple dozen skinhead punks) company. His most recent employer had told him to keep an eye on her campaign - make sure the Press got the right image. It just wouldn't do for Humanis Policlub to be seen as a group of dangerous, racist fucks; but to push this 'Family first, Conservative values' agenda instead. Meanwhile, the Knights of the Red Hand would handle the dangerous, racist fuckery in their place.

She wasn't saying anything too inflammatory though, as far as Owen could tell, and well, a chance to make money on the side was always welcome.

<<15:38:34 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 - Sounds great, I owe you one; where's the meet?

-Owen>>

[BlackHat]

15:40:30 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Deep in The Stream
Nym

Nym pulled the message from his dropbox, watching dangling strands of metadata trail the icon like the roots of a carefully pulled weed. Once exposed, the strands writhed and twisted for a moment before dissolving into the surrounding Matrix noise. Nym could have chased after them (and, in fact, considered doing so) but decided that, if he needed to know where Moxie was, the trail of relatively high-profile activism should be easy enough to follow. It took him a few minutes to decide whether or not to call her - something about maintaining relationships eluded him, but he understood networks and how important it was for him to remain connected to the world. As soon as he dropped off these SINs, he'd be out of work again, too, so if Moxie had another cause that needed someone with his abilities, he was interested enough to try to get back in touch with her.

After spending a few moments flitting from node to node to tie his datatrail in a few knots (a paranoid habit), he sent out a connection request to the last known commcode he had for Moxie. Her message hadn't included any contact details, other than "call me" and although he had tossed innumerable disposable commcodes since they last talked, he figured most people kept the same number for most of their lives.

Most people wanted to be reachable.

Moxie didn't pick up right away. She probably didn't recognize the name attached to the commcode he was using to call her, but since she was expecting a call from him, the attempt made it past her spam filter, and the connection initialized. <<"Yo?">>she said, noncommittally, when the line connected. Nym wasn't sure he would recognize her voice, if he needed to, but the person on the other end was female, in any case.

<<"...">> Nym froze for a moment, not sure what he should say, and still considering the possibility that it was some kind of set-up. <<"... the man you are looking for no longer exists.">> His voice was quiet. It wasn't his voice really, anyway - just some mental projection of what he thought he sounded like echoing through the resonance of the matrix.

<<"Of course not, hun, but who am I talking to?">> she teased. Her demeanor brightened when she realized who this must be. She often teased him about being too careful. She thought the best way to help her causes was to draw attention to them - the more media attention, the better chance the corporations would be pressured to do what was right. Nym generally disagreed, but could appreciate her position. She had a knack for it, and didn't seem to mind the whole world knowing who she was, and what she stood for.

<<"Probably somebody else, after you tell me about this 'job'. Till then, why not call me 'Applicant'">>

<<"Applicant. Got it. As for that job...">>

<<"Before we get into specifics, we should encrypt this channel or move to a secure node.">>

<<"If you like. Here's my key.">>

Nym threaded together a quick encryption algorithm for his half of the digital handshake. It wasn't fancy, but it made Nym feel more comfortable.

<<"Better?.">>

<<"Much.">>

[onlyghostdancesw...]

15:34:30 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Forbidden Pleasure
Jens

Bianca stretched and for a passing moment seemed off-balance, but the moment, if it indeed existed, passed in the space between one heartbeat and the next as she purred softly, "My pet, we've been over this before... I have no knowledge of anything similiar to what you described, if it indeed existed... Not that I doubt you my pet but there just hasn't been much out there on this particular area. My best guess is that you exposed your soul to a void of unusual nature... surely your friend Raz-al knows more?" Startled that Bianca was aware of Raz-Al, Jens paused, uncertain where to go next.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

15:39:00 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Flaherty's
Owen


<<15:38:37 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 - Thanks for the fast reply Owen; you're a real life-saver... this Johnson has been on my ass all week for some of my motivational activities and has me pretty much in a corner. I'll tell him you're coming, place called the Driver's End, down in Everret, 13th and Johnson. - I-IN-SKY>>

[Seth]

15:34:00 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Forbidden Pleasure
Jens

Jens paused. So Bianca is spying on me. Well I suppose she is spying on every one. "It's always difficult to remember clearly traumatic events, I suspect you are right Bianca. Well If I am heading to the Heretic level of Dante's I suppose I had better go shopping." Least time spent here, the less chance there is of anything going wrong. Jens toasted Bianca another time, then stood up. "Thank you for the job Bianca", and headed out.

Jens left Forbidden Pleasures and headed home. If I want to get to Dante's an hour early that gives me three hours to kill. Well I should probably summon a spirit, I can put into practice the new ideas Lady Jane gave me on dealing with Valkyries.

<<Perseus: Looks like I have a job, whether I want one or not. Bianca was her usual scary self, but here's the job <link>. Bianca was pretty tight about who it's for, but I am going to spend a couple of hours doing some searching. She used the phrases: 'loyal members for a cause' and 'new prospects'. I think I will combine those with 'human traficking and see if anything springs to mind. It won't hurt to find out what the law was with regard to this anyway.

Bianca knew something about that painting. She fobbed me off suggested the painting might have been some kind of weird void. I think when this job is over, we will need to do some hacking.>>

[Panzergeist47]

15:39:00 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Flaherty's; Downtown Seattle
Owen
Well, now. Those three in the back probably weren't up to much - they were clearly up to something, but people that nervous wouldn't start anything serious whilst in the same room as a bunch of fired up activists, right?

Well, he guessed it would be best to give them a quick scan and make sure, rather than catch some heat from his employer later. Besides, I hadn't specified a time to meet his Johnson, and a few minutes wouldn't kill him.

Putting on a cheery smile, he turned to the trio, raised his glass and spoke with a soothing, friendly tone he'd picked up from a Trid Advert and saved for just such an occasion.

"Quite a speech, isn't it, lads? A few more campaigners like her, and Brackhaven's got this in the bag." Whilst he spoke, he tried to covertly steal a closer look at whatever electronic equipment the trio were using.

[Branmac]

15:32:30 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Snohomish/Cascade Border
John Around Him

After a few seconds looking around at the surrounding Cascade territory, John looked over at the Rover and shrugged before Tossing the credstick back to Ross. "Don't suppose I have anything better to do right now. Need to get a few days R&R and all like that. Get some ribs at the Rhino or something. Probably better luck getting another load there as well. Yeah Ross, I'll take a run over the border with you. So what kind of troubles you been seeing? Patrols stepped up or something else?"

As he was talking John took the time for a quick check of his tires and the rig in general. Probably going to overcharge me, still, nice to sleep in a good bed. Maybe knock back a few. Need to check the suspension soon, looks good but trust luck when you have to.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

22:32:24 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 The Sicilian
Koan


"Step right up ladies and gents, get your lucky dice rolling in this game of craps, 2-1 odds for newcomers on the first toss for a limited time only! Play it old fashioned, no machines no gimmicks! Koan pushed deeper into the deep red velvet and mahogany chair that was one of the many luxurious appointments at this smaller Bigio-run Casino. It had, as usual of late, been a very troubling night with no sleep to be found and no pleasure in woman's companionship could erase the coppery smell of blood that lingered in his nostrils.

Sleep was getting harder to find these days in general, even working with Sensei Shodo Harada could not erase what were becoming ever present night-terrors. That's why Koan had come here, one of the better days of his life had been here, spent playing cards with Dorian, before the big war errupted. He had hoped it might make the memories fade into the background, but all it had done was make him surly and morose.

He tried centering himself but the void kept escaping him as he sat and watched the craps, even his apparent luck at the dice tonight couldn't aid his mood, and he had piled up quite a bit since 2am when he had wandered in, drunk to the core and plunked down everything he had.


The thought that maybe his luck was turning was a strong shaft of irony in the midst of his depressing thoughts and Koan grinned, a taught, desperate grin that made the other guests at the table squirm slightly in their seats. Hell, maybe it's about time I had a better piece of the luck this time around. Heaven knows I've only done what I must to survive..]

As if that thought had been a cue for some offscreen vaudevillian act, Koan's comm lit up with an incoming message,

<<22:46:34 Hey chummer, it's been a long time man. I hope this is still the right comm to reach you on... Don't want to bring up painful things since I knows how you felt when you left the Family's employ but I figured if you were looking for a job I might toss it your way. Anyways lemme know if you feel like handling some stuff for us. Hope you are finding yourself wherever you are mate. - Brian Knuckles>>

[onlyghostdancesw...]

15:39:00 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Flaherty's; Downtown Seattle
Owen

The trio stared at the visitor impinging on their privacy with thinly veiled animosity. The taller one, whom Owen could now see to be an elf, spoke quietly but forcefully, "And Brackhaven lost the last one... what makes you so certain that he'll win the next?" Out of his peripheral vision Owen saw both of the elf's companions shift their grips on whatever was sitting inside their jackets.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

15:32:30 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Snohomish/Cascade Border
John Around Him

Ross deftly pluck the credstick out of the air as he turned around from where he had loaded the crate into the vehicle. "Nah man, more... motivated and interested parties coming to peruse our merchandise without kissing us on the neck first. The 'plex is still as bribeworthy as its always been." Figuring that was enough conversation for the time being Ross hopped in the buggy and started driving back into the bushes. As John followed close behind he could see that the bushes were a cleverly disguised barrier and entry to a set of tunnels that had not been there last time he came through.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

15:40:30 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Deep in The Stream
Nym

<<15:40:32 So nice to meet you Applicant. I take it things have gone well for your cause?>> There was a slight teasing pause that Nym could almost feel in the stream of encrypted code and Nym made a mental note to make sure wasn't a technomancer herself...It never pays to not know these things about ones interactions. but did not reply before Moxie sent a new message.

<<15:40:34 So anyways, I've gotten word about a new human rights violation going down, Evo this time. A Johnson came to me looking for team members to liberate some unfortunate souls coming into the docks 2 days from now and I said I'd look around for right-minded people. Can I count you in on overwatch? After all they are going to need new IDs... you might make something off of that whatever the case.>>

[pragma]

22:32:24 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 The Sicilian
Koan

Boxcars came up. Koan had expected no less, but still winced as his winnings evaporated. Still, breaking even was a step forward.

He rose from the chair and left the table waving briefly to the dealer and the bartender. Both of the casino employees knew him well enough to ensure that his chips and his drinks were taken care of in his absence; no reason to risk pulling fire from the sky. Walking past bouncers he found himself in the quieter upper gallery.

On his way to an abandoned alcove to take the call, one of the waitresses batted luxurious eyelashes at him. Koan returned a smile, a bit forced on short notice, but winced inside. The medications leeched a lot of joy out of life, that he had no response to the woman was one of the cruelest side effects.

Finally finding some quiet, he opened a window in his field of vision which stared into a clearly subterranean bar. Though the saloon had pipes exposed in its ceiling and unfinished walls, the decor still spoke to a certain degree of care and class in the proprietor. That was surprising given Brian Knuckles visage; glow city had wreaked havoc on the orc growing up and he was halfway to albino and had numerous alarming calcium deposits in his face an neck. These did nothing to ease the impression that an obvious cyberarm, the lingering twitches of wired reflexes and customized cybereyes that looked like targeting reticles gave off.

Brian seemed startled

<Oh, hey boss. Caught me off guard, wasn't sure you'd be calling back so soon.>

<Not your boss anymore, Brian, but its good to see your face even if you're putting me back to work.>

<Don't hear that so often boss, if only you were a nice lady ork.>

Koan caught himself in a half-smile as Brian continued with more confidence: <Now, I know we need to be mindful of your condition.> the smile evaporated but the ork gave no sign that he'd noticed <but there's some business ...>

[Branmac]

15:35:15 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Snohomish/Cascade Border
John Around Him


Carefully following the Cascade Orc into the tunnel taking great care to avoid damaging the paint job on his Rover, and just coincidentally causing a cave in, John thought about what Ross had said.
Humph, always something new. Who is getting into the help-yourself game now? Tunnel like this, not quick work even with drilling rigs. Wouldn't go to this much trouble for nothing. Better be keeping an eye out.
Driving along behind the buggy he set up his gear and programs to double check for eyes in the sky on his way into town. Then he sends a low power signal to Russ up ahead, confident the rock around them would keep anyone else from picking it up.
<You got any idea who is turning up the heat on your little band of business men? Don't want to stir anything up when I am in town, or step into anything either. We have done good business and I want to keep us both operating in the black.

As he continues on down the tunnel, John keeps his eyes and sensors focused on what is ahead...

[BlackHat]

15:40:36 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Deep in The Stream
Nym

<<15:40:36 I can help you help them, for sure. Did the J give you any details on Evo's involvement? >> Applicant's question was tinged with distaste, but until he knew more, he held his tongue. <<15:40:38 I have to tie up some loose ends here, but two days should be plenty of time. How should I make contact with the team? >>

[Seth]

16:47:00 Wednesday, November 9, 2072, 23b Magnolia Heights
Jens

Jens walked down the corridor toward's his flat. Graffiti on walls extolled the virtues of Rebo123 while telling Jens that AlphaB had been there. Jens quite liked the graffiti: the artists had had to remove the decaying wallpaper to paint onto the concrete underneath it, and the graffitti brought some color into the otherwise dingy corridor.

His thermal vision spotted a couple of rats, but no sign of anyone trying to sleep under the rubbish. Shame really, since the affair with the painting Jens needed to feed more often.

His door looked like the others: peeling paint over a MDF underlay. Jens regarded this as part of his Masquerade: if he painted it, it would look different to the others. Jens opened the door's lock with his old fashioned key: this didn't actually do much though, as the real security was the matrix system. There was a signal rating zero door that Jens needed to put his hand near to communicate with, and this asked Jens a sequence of faces that he had to recognise, along with a few that if he selected would put the system on alert. Mind you Jens thought, some day I ought to put some active countermeasures here: no point having a good detection system if there is nothing backing it. Maybe I should buy a Doberman.. Jens mind flashed back to all the times in the past when he had used other peoples security measures against them Or maybe not

Jens opened the door, and closed it behind him. He couldn't afford much, but what he had was clean and tidy. About 15 years ago, Jens realised that he was likely to live for a long time, so he might as well live in a tidy place. He had been very pleased with that decision on a couple of occasions: Bianca had visited once, and Raz occasionally visited. He headed for the kitchen, padding over the polished floor boards, pulled a bag of blood out of the fridge, and headed to the work room. Simple wooden shelves lined the walls, covered with lots of bits of old tech that Jens had gathered. In the middle was a chair that Jens had stolen on one of his runs.

Sitting on the chair, Jens closed his eyes, and checked over the Matrix security logs, and ran some simple diagnostics. Setting an alarm to remind him of his appointment, just in case he got lost in work, he set off to do some simple system admin tasks. Not very exciting, but Jens got a kick out of doing it well, and it paid OK.

[Panzergeist47]

15:39:00 Wednesday, November 9, 2072 Flaherty's; Downtown Seattle
Owen

Owen felt as if something was clutching at his gut - fairly screeching at him to get out of here. Well, only a fool would go looking for a fight against three other men, but... he couldn't just leave without a parting barb.

He grinned, and slowly took his free hand out of his pocket to show he was unarmed.

"Easy, lads. Just figured someone coming to a meeting like this'd be pro-Brackhaven. 'Course, if you're not, you're not. Best thing about a Human city is you get a choice in the matter. Not like your homeland," he gestured at the elf - "but I guess you must've thought the same, or you'd still be mucking around down south in Portland or Salem. Enjoy your night, lads."