2075: 86ing the 88s Options

[mister__joshua]

Jan
Monday, 25 November, 10:22; Roxy's Diner, Downtown, Seattle Metroplex

Jan approached the diner from across the street. He'd contacted Al the night before to arrange the meet. 10:30, but he wanted to get there early to check it was legit. Now, crossing towards the diner he saw Al, sitting at an outside table, drink in hand, grinning at him like it's 2 old friends out for a jolly.

"Get inside you fokking madman" Jan muttered as he passed Al and headed into the diner. He heard the cowboy snort a laugh. "And don't tell me to relax. That's all you ever say. 'Relax.' Well this shit ain't going away and it's time we made it go away. I dunno where you've been holed up, probably your cousin's pussy, but for me it's not been a fun couple of months. I thought I left this shit behind in Azania, sleeping in boxes in fokking squats. I've got Nuyen now. Nah, fok that shit. We need this sorted now so I can get back to plush hotel rooms and high prices hookers.

They'd been moving as he spoke. They'd ordered, but the waitress didn't stick around. When Jan was ranting it wasn't very welcoming withing a few meters of him. Al was still smiling, sitting back in his booth. That infuriated Jan even more. He wanted to slap him. But he knew deep down he'd grown fond of the daft bastard. He hadn't noticed the waitress return, but there was a plate of pancakes and a fresh jug of coffee on the table. Well, at least the meet wouldn't be a total bust...

[adamu]

Al
Monday, 25 November, 10:26; Roxy's Diner, Downtown, Seattle Metroplex

Al had carried his beer in with him, and had time to finish and start on the fresh coffee before the big elf paused for a breath. "Hoo-eee, mi keeb compadre, you do know how ta cuss. Ol' Al had his swear jar here, be able ta cover yer whores an' hotels the next month runnin', all the nickels y'all'd be puttin' in. But ain't no nevermind 'mongst menfolk, an' Francine there, well, she ain't hardly no lady." His words not having the desired calming effect on the South African merc, he held up a scarred hand to stymie the fresh flow of color.

"Well then allow me ta offer my heartfelt apologies fer bein' scarce. Down Puyallup way, I been. Finally got the damned eye-ties off my back, thinkin' I'm dead, so no percentage in showin' my face. An' now this new thing, which I can see has ya a mite incensed. Well, reckon I'm 'bout bored with ash in my beer an' the hippie life, ready fer a break. An' jist finished up the work on my truck. So that's ol' Al's dance card good an' empty. What exactly ya have in mind?"

[Jack_Spade]

John
Monday, 25 November, 10:22; Sneed's Seeds and Feeds warehouse (Formerly Chucks), Tacoma, Seattle Metroplex

Falling flat on your face shouldn't hurt a robot. But somehow the stupid doll managed to create a feedback that made falling hurt like hell. Which was unfortunate as the coordination of that little piece of shit was akin to a mix between a toddler and a kindergarder. To be fair the Little Buddy had been designed to be just that - a companion for your little sunshine, teaching it to be a good corporate citizen from as early on as possible.

John had been mildly disturbed to find the function that asked the child to tell the Little Buddy about what Mommy and Daddy said about Horizon. But that was to be expected from this relative inexpensive piece of plastic an wires. At least the little anthro form could hold a spanner and use a solder iron with enough precision, enabling John to repair his real body.

He knew he shouldn't have taken the job from Brackhaus so soon after he antagonized the whole of the Seoulpa, not to mention his moving his living arrangements to the harbor. But the skin upgrade for even better life likeness had been to enticing. And all he had to do for that was hunt down a blind magical experiment that escaped during a botched run. It had been actually fun - up till the moment at least when he learned that the thing had an excellent ultrasound sense as well as himself plus the ability to neutralize sound in its vicinity.

It had been all rather exciting - and on the plus side the thing did him a favor by removing most of the synthetic skin he had had. He just whished he could have disengaged the sensory input first.

But he was nearly done. All he had to do now... was getting up again. Damn this shitty puppet and it's shody foot actuators.
He closed the last seam and looked himself up and down.

Not bad. Now it was time to see if the WATLAM Program held what he expected it to perform...

[mister__joshua]

Jan
Monday, 25 November, 10:26; Roxy's Diner, Downtown, Seattle Metroplex

"I don't know exactly, yet..." The big elf paused for a moment, drinking his beautifully hot coffee and taking a bite of breakfast.

"I met this dude gave me an idea. Well, I say dude. He's a weapon really. A shell. Drone. Be fokked if I know how he works, but he's effective. Took out restaurant full of Seoulpa single-handed. Man like that can be useful. It's like a missile; fire and forget." He paused again collecting his thoughts. The pause was longer than he intended, but the pancakes were soft and fluffy. "Dunno what motivates him though, man like that."

"We'll need contacts inside, of course. I figured Silk may be able to help us there. I'll ask my own connections too. My plan currently doesn't amount to much more than 'go at them hard.' granted, it could use some refinement...

[adamu]

Al
Monday, 25 November, 10:28; Roxy's Diner, Downtown, Seattle Metroplex

"Heh, fuck refinement, kemo sabe, 'go at 'em hard' works jist fine fer ol' Al. But me an' Silky go back a spell, happy ta see what she knows in between burnin' down mah jong parlors. Reckon my shotgun's inna truck, we can go find some people in Chinatown ta shoot soon's we finish these here flannel cakes."

Al chewed thoughtfully for a moment, and added, "Less'n ya wanna collect this drone o' yours first. Sounds like a damned useful item. Love ta take it apart, so how it works once we kill all the 88s."

[Jack_Spade]

John
Monday, 25 November, 10:29; Sneed's Seeds and Feeds warehouse (Formerly Chucks), Tacoma, Seattle Metroplex

Leaving the little puppet felt great, getting back into his body felt even better. Time to start the WTLM program. It had taken him the better part of the last two weeks to get this piece of code to work, but now it was loaded into his kernel and he could really feel the effect in combination with his new skin. It was subtle, but his body was now constantly moving - just a bit, but enough to no longer make you think of a rigid robot but of supple flesh. His walk was also different - not as smooth as it had been but still graceful and precise. There was just a bit more movement than strictly necessary, especially where his arms were concerned.

Just for the hell of it he made a few back flips and break dance moves and... yes he went there... danced the robot.

[mister__joshua]

Jan
Monday, 25 November, 10:28; Roxy's Diner, Downtown, Seattle Metroplex

Jan inwardly despaired at Al's reckless plan, but he enjoyed the redneck's 'go get em' attitude. "....we'll call that plan B, eh... he said with a smile that suggested it was closer to plan F.

"Tapping into th' fixer's knowledge can only be a good thing, and the additional fire support once thinks befokked. I'll leave you contact Silk, I'll see if I can't get this drone to play"

[Aria]

Glo
Monday, 25 November, 10:26; Glo’s Squat, Touristville, Redmond, Seattle Metroplex

In the matrix the cold chill rushing through the long abandoned loft apartment wasn’t noticeable, but even now, as Glo rubbed at her temples where the trodes had sat, she showed no sign of being aware of the bitter winter wind that flapped at the tattered curtains.

Glo sniffed at the toxins in the air and the overlay of cheap kaf from the rudimentary coffee maker wired in to the pirated power supply… she may not feel the cold but she appreciated the warmth of the hot liquid even if the taste was pretty poor. Behind her on the cobbled together table the trid unit beeped as the download completed on the data tap. If Briar had done her job, and Glo had no doubt that the young hacker had, it should be programed to forge a connection between the Triad’s offline host and dump paydata on to ShadowSEA. Then it would be a matter of sifting through the dross to find out who had been foolish enough to think they wanted the work of that man and his perverted programme.

It was nearly time… this evening, before the casino closed its doors to the public, that would be when her strike was timed. Now it was just a matter of preparing some chaos to cover her retreat once she had planted the tap…

[Jack_Spade]

John
Monday, 25 November, 10:40; Sneed's Seeds and Feeds warehouse (Formerly Chucks), Tacoma, Seattle Metroplex

When John had had enough of performing mundane movement acts he returned to the less rewarding, but nonetheless essential tasks. Now that his body was better than new, he had to take care of his equipment. The Ares Alpha was neatly disassembled already and all parts had been treated with an oil-based cleaning fluid. Now he had to wipe everything down and reassemble the mechanism. The silencer needed new rubber disks and the grenade launcher had acquired a small dent, causing a noticeable squeaking in the loading mechanism. It required a really steady hand to correct without damaging the other parts, but luckily he had bought a pair of the steadiest hands S-K produced.

John briefly wondered if young boys would be as enthusiastic online shooter players if they had to maintain their equipment for hours on end just to be able to use it for a few minutes. He came to the conclusion that autistic and OCD ones probably would enjoy them even more.

At least the work gave him something to do. Despite his last job only having been two days ago he already felt the itch to start a new one. Online play was all nice and good, but nothing beat the resolution of reality...

[adamu]

Al
Monday, 25 November, 10:29; Roxy's Diner, Downtown, Seattle Metroplex

"Roger roger, kemo sabe. Drones fer you, ladies fer me. Sounds about right." He shoved a last giant mouthful of sweetener-soaked carbohydrate into his mouth, talking around it as he stood. "I'll stay inna city. Ya got my number. Call ya with whatever I dig up."

He went out and walked to his Gaz, having left Jan with the bill. Drove around for a bit deciding where to set up shop for their new endeavor. Someplace off the grid, close, and totally new to him - once they kicked the nest, the hornets'd come flying. It was a damned big 'plex. He knew Puyallup best, but that was way too far from the action. He knew some likely spots in the International District, but that was way too close. That left the docks. He'd heard about a place that rented storage units, including some with utility hook-ups even though they weren't coded for residential. Triads might not know it - he'd heard they didn't exactly cater to criminals, more like Filipino and Russkie sailors wanting to sleep on land for a few nights but not wanting to spend much.

Two hours later he was loading a quartet of fold-up canvas cots and Army surplus blankets from the bed of his truck into a large storage unit. It was one of half a dozen tucked almost invisibly between a larger warehouse and the landward slope the rose to the city proper from under the Alaska Way viaduct. He'd paid cash via a toothless old Latvian sea dog, buying the guy a fifth of decent Scotch for his trouble. The place had electricity and Al put in some lights, a microwave, and a soy processor. There was a shower head above a drain in one corner.

Before playing house he'd voice-texted Silk. <<Yo Silky baby, man o' yer dreams here. Seems the 88s got a hard-on for us after we wasted a few sampans worth when yer lizard-lady friend used us as bait. Reckon we might want ta smooth things over. Start some peace talks an' whatnot. Need any files ya got. Head honchos. Properties. Assets. Security. Don't make ol' Al ask a lot o' questions - jist send 'er wrapped inna bow like a good girl.>>

And now, just as he was settling onto one of the cots for a beer and a nap, his 'link pinged....

[Aria]

Silk
Monday, 25 November, 10:29; Silk’s Threads Host, Seattle Metroplex

Silk smiled to herself as she recorded a brief response to Al’s message…after all, she liked him despite herself and she didn’t want to subject him to matrix contact without a real need.

Her soft tones issued from Al’s ‘link

<<Master Guthrie! I’m glad you survived that little fracas. I know that eTher was impressed with your work as well, although I might have preferred a slightly lower body count. So, peace talks with the 88s? I must admit I’m slightly sceptical given your request for security protocols but that is your business. Your request is timely as ever, the Fates are clearly smiling on you, I have an operative in place who is set to retrieve detailed information shortly but in the meantime I will compile a broad brush dossier for you from my records. If there is more specific intel that you require then I can reach out to my network.>>

And with the message sent she turned to Gossamer “Can you send Al the data drop we prepared for Glo? Plus a broad sweep of ShadowSEA and Jackpoint data as I’m not sure he will go looking for that himself. Thank you”

With the barest pause Gossamer indicates that the data package has been sent to Al’s ‘link with the usual invoice details.

“Thank you, will you also let Glo know that there is a market for any current paydata that she is able to liberate? I hope she finds what she is looking for but any detailed intel on the Triads will be valuable to the right people.”

[adamu]

Al
Monday, 25 November, 1:09 pm; storage unit under Alaska Way viaduct, Downtown, Seattle Metroplex

Al squinted at the invoice, but it didn't change the numbers. Squinting didn't do shit when you were stuck with fake eyes. Damned autofocus features took just that much of the fun out of life. Helluva sum - he'd always been on the supply side of the info flow to Silk. Seeing what was being charged on the demand side made him think he'd better raise his prices.

But she'd sent him a real passle of intel. Damn. He was going to have to read all this crap? He found a cheap program that would turn any written material into a manga-style tutorial, jacked up the sexiness settings on the presenters, and settled in for a long slog. Man worked for a living, after all. You didn't have to like it, you just had to do it.

[adamu]

Al
Monday, 25 November, 3:11 pm; storage unit under Alaska Way viaduct, Downtown, Seattle Metroplex

The two main characters in Al's adaptive manga were Millicent Fairweather and Courtney Whiplash. They were deep cover agents from Horizon's Corporate Social Resonsibility Division, charged with ferreting out any and all threats to the happiness and prosperity of the common man, Horizon citizen and world citizen alike, and then bringing said parasites to justice as part of the megacorp's ongoing commitment to bettering the world around it. Al realized how much he loved and appreciated Horizon.

By flaunting the right sorts of assets in the wrong sorts of places, Millicent and Courtney had conveniently gotten themselves pressed into slavery, transported from the East Coast out to Seattle, and sold as sex toys to the 88s. As they cavorted their way through various aspects of the criminal operation, they would periodically look up at the reader from whatever compromised position they were allowing themselves to be subjected to for the greater social good and explain how this or that aspect of the local Triad structure would fit into Horizon's eventual sweep of such scum from the streets, gleaning all the necessary data from the data file Silk had sent Al. Naturally Al had purchased the self-contained program - he'd been warned that the plot and image resolution were much better if the program was allowed to run on the grid, which had been tempting, but he'd figured Jan would probably see that as some sort of security issue. Some of these people worried about every little thing.

By the time the girls had learned (and pantingly conveyed to Al) all they could about this nefarious organization and returned to report to their Horizon handlers, Al put his head back on the rolled up blanket he was using as a pillow and figured he'd just wasted two hours. Then, as he lay there smoking, thinking about all the little details, the names, the places, the assorted and seemingly random tidbits in the file, it all sort of lined itself up in his head.

He voice-texted Jan. <<How's it goin' with yer talkin' drone? 'Bout ready ta work? Reckon I found us a lucrative place ta start...>>

[mister__joshua]

Jan
Monday, 25 November, 10:32; Roxy's Diner, Downtown, Seattle Metroplex

Jan sat back in his booth, rubbed his stomach and called over the waitress. "Same again please" he managed while suppressing a burp. He'd been expecting the cowboy to leave without paying so figured he may as well make the most of his time here. While he finished off his coffee he stared out of the window at the street outside, before taking out his 'link and prodding at it with his finger like a curious chimp might poke at something shiny. <<@John: Hey Bot. You in the market for some fun? Pays shit and there's serious risk of harm but plenty of opportunity to express yourself. You were the first thing I thought of>>

Jan didn't know what to call Revenant. Was it a 'he'? He didn't much care really. He had the same problem with transvestites and often ended up offending someone. They should make these things less confusing.




Monday, 25 November, 15:12; Freeway Park, Downtown, Seattle Metroplex

<<@Al: Not heard yet, but I'm sure the bot's game>> He was sitting on a park bench, looking out of place and waiting for Know to arrive. He wasn't a fan of this place. Far too exposed and full of corporate yuppie types. He understood why Know liked it though. It was probably the most secure park in the UCAS. A trip-A zone and with the Knights just a few seconds away. That sounds like the opposite of what a fixer might want, but he wasn't doing anything wrong. What had he got to be afraid of? If the law can't protect a man meeting a friend in the park? Jan wished he could see it that way. All he saw was constant surveillance and 1500 chances of getting his mug caught on camera... ...but he wanted his money, and this was how the deal had to be done.

[Jack_Spade]

John
Monday, 25 November, 15:15; Sneed's Seeds and Feeds warehouse (Formerly Chucks), Tacoma, Seattle Metroplex #126

John had - as always - disconnected from the matrix for his realignment. Somehow it was patently unfair: Humans just had to take a bit of bioware or some pills and could go whole days without sleep while he and all the other AIs had to have three hours of inactivity every fragging day. And he couldn't even wake up early while his memories compressed and his cache reset.

Only now that he had restarted his matrix connection he found the message from Jan.
He activated smirk 21/b (Hurray for WTLM) and answered:
<<Hey meatbag. Opportunity to express myself sounds lovely. Meet up in the city?>>

John knew better than to ask for details over the matrix and Jan didn't strike him as the type to log into a secure game host for a face to face. Besides: What good is a new realistic body if you don't get out and display it?

Just to be ready for everything he made sure his weapons were in the car and his licences were up to date.

[adamu]

Al
Monday, 25 November, 15:14 pm; storage unit under Alaska Way viaduct, Downtown, Seattle Metroplex

<<Okay, ya know my old place, the one that got burned down? Meet me there in an hour, I'll fill ya in an' we'll git ta work.>>

He took his gear back out to the Gaz. He'd left Spike in Puyallup, but he'd brought his snakes. Emptied their bag onto the floor before he went out and locked up. Drove to the scorched ruin in the International District where he'd used to live in the basement. That had been the Italians. Chinese were up next. Hell, this could be a whole new gig, an' a lot less weird that some of the other jobs he'd gotten wrangled into lately. Finish this up maybe he'd take on the Koshari or the Russkies.

[adamu]

Al
Monday, 25 November, 16:03 pm; International District, Downtown, Seattle Metroplex

Al sat in the rain in his truck, watching the street ahead and his mirrors behind. The rain clouds meant it was already full-dark in November Seattle by four. So he knew smoking made him an easier target in the cab of his Gaz, even with the window-tint dialled up. He wasn't super concerned.

Lot of memories on this street. Spent the last five years here. Working. Getting better. Trying to forget. Some of the things he wanted out of his memory were good. Some bad. Certain things in your recollection, you wanted to keep the best things in there safe from them. So you drank and you worked and you did magic tricks.

Of course none of it worked. Not for long.

He'd found Spike here. That had been a good courtship.

It was right here on this street, almost this same exact parking spot, that Esposito and Pratt had first found him. Couple of pests, but not bad for cops. They'd been useful.

Now it was just a spot he knew and was pretty sure Jan did too. If he hadn't understood the message he'd call.

No hurry. The Spock would be here with his new toy soon enough.

And Al had plenty of cigarettes left.

[Aria]

Glo
Monday, 25 November, 19:58; Chinatown, Seattle Metroplex

Glo had swung by the site a couple of times on her scooter with a good interval between each pass so that she didn’t draw any particular attention to herself. Her features were sufficiently Asian that she didn’t look out of place in Chinatown but there was no point in drawing scrutiny if it could be helped. The first pass delivered her spy drone in to a discrete position watching the rear of the casino, wifi disabled so that it didn’t draw its own scrutiny, and the second collected it so that she could review the footage. She spent the intervening time in one of the innumerable and anonymous eateries with a reasonable view of her target.

The security was about what she had expected, a mix of tech and meat, and presumably some measure of magical force too. There was little she could do about the latter on a solo run, which meant making her insertion during working hours when it would be that little bit harder to spot an intruder amongst the guests. That would be moot once she reached her target as she would definitely be off the beaten track by then, that would mean relying on speed and surprise and diversionary tactics to minimise her own risk.

It was nearly time to begin…she would aim for a period just before the night shift change when hopefully the guards were just a little less vigilant and before the changeover doubled the bodies between her and her target…

[mister__joshua]

Jan
Monday, 25 November, 15:22; Freeway Park, Downtown, Seattle Metroplex

Know had left, and after a few pleasantries, he'd been paid. They were square for now. He read John's message in his head before tapping out his reply.
<<@John: Meet downtown. Corner of 8th & S Kings. 4:00>>

Jan was unsure about the wisdom of going back to the International District. He'd not been back in a few days, and took that squat for burnt. There were more slit-eyes staring at him there than anywhere, but he'd figured it was hiding in plain sight and trusted Know's intel. And he was, technically speaking, 'international' himself. As international as a Caucasian from the colonies could be.

[Jack_Spade]

John
Monday, 25 November, 16:05 pm; International District, Downtown, Seattle Metroplex #127

John had found his way to the international district without trouble. Driving a commercial ambulance made it always easy to get a parking space. It also made it easier to explain the obvious armor clothing. The red cross patches would have to come off when go time rolled around, but for now it was a fine way to not look like a creep sitting in your car.

He noticed the smoker in the car cab - not that he could really see through the mirrored glasses, but the IR readout showed that the car must have arrived here only minutes before him and the laser mic and the select sound filter picked up the steady puffing of a cigar or cigarette.

Could be nothing or...
<<Hey Jan, did you by chance get a truck and started smoking while scratching yourself? If not, than there is a third party waiting here at our meeting spot. In any case I'm ready for trouble...>>

[mister__joshua]

Jan
Monday, 25 November, 16:07 pm; International District, Downtown, Seattle Metroplex

Jan emerged from the basement of the tenement that had been his home for countless miserable nights. He'd arrived a little early to scope the place; make sure it hadn't been made. He wasn't glad to be back here. The dogs had done a good job on Jae-Geun, anyone who bothered to check would be left with dental records and little else to go on. "It's cool" Jan shouted over to John. "He's with me."

Al's beat-up Gaz was instantly recognisable, as was the smoke pouring out of a crack in the window. Jan tapped the glass to make sure the cowboy wasn't napping under that hat. "I's about to call you. How'd you know to stop here?" Jan took the cigarette Al offered through the window, finished off the last few puffs and flicked it to the floor. "Come on, let's get inside where it's.... well, where it's fucking freezing."

[Jack_Spade]

John
Monday, 25 November, 16:07 pm; International District, Downtown, Seattle Metroplex #128

John used grin #12/a as an appropriate response to meeting someone new, who might also be a professional runner. He quickly changed it for the version /d adding a bit of puzzlement and incredulity when he saw the other man. Well, looks could be deceiving as he himself gave testament to, but his olfactory sensor picked up on the small figure, identifying him as a piece of badly smoke-cured ham.

John didn't mind the rain - the amphibious upgrade took care of that - but still wore a cap to prevent damage to the highly realistic artificial hair. After all, the replacement was always hideously expensive and quite time consuming to integrate.
Still, rain drops had found their way onto his perfectly average face - a computer generated amalgamation of all human races world wide - and John had to clear them away with his sleave while following the two men.

Once they had reached a modicum of shelter from the elements, he extended his right hand towards the small man: "Hello, I'm John. Nice to meet you." He turned to Jan: "Hello again, Jan. To what do I owe the pleasure of this invite.?"

[adamu]

Al
Monday, 25 November, 16:07 pm; International District, Downtown, Seattle Metroplex

Al took a look around as they entered his old apartment. It hadn't been much, and then the building above had been burned. And then Jan had lived in it. Place smelled like death.

But that was not a serious issue. Certainly not enough to crimp Al's spirits. He'd been chuckling quietly to himself since the three had met up outside. Jan had outdone himself.

Now, looking with amusement at the outstretched hand, he turned to his friend, "Shee-it, now I'm workin' with Mr. Spock an' Mr. Data too," he said with a delighted grin. "What with the dark an' all, not sure I'd o' known, ya hadn't warned me. So if it talks, reckon it takes voice commands - any code word I need fer admin rights, or we just input my voiceprint?"

[Jack_Spade]

John
Monday, 25 November, 16:08 pm; International District, Downtown, Seattle Metroplex #129

"Funny. But now I'm wondering if I get admin access on you if I input my footprint to your wrinkled ass." John retorted without changing his smile.

[adamu]

Al
Monday, 25 November, 16:07 pm; International District, Downtown, Seattle Metroplex

"Daaamn Sam, Jan baby - they done programmed some sass inta this one. Hell, at least it says that kind o' shit wth a smile on it's face." Al did note, however, that the drone had several inches on him, and was probably made of something reasonably unyielding. Casually taking a cautious step back, he added, "It do got all the standard failsafes, right? Like can't kill its masters an' whatnot?"