IC Reflections of a Full Moon, IC Thread |
IC Reflections of a Full Moon, IC Thread |
Jun 16 2007, 11:32 PM
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#1
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GM of DOOM! Group: Members Posts: 3,893 Joined: 20-March 03 From: San Diego Member No.: 4,296 |
August 26th, 2074
Bakatare clapped, quietly but enthusiastically, as the radiant figure on the stage finished her song. Her singing was always better with a full moon. It had been almost a decade since Moira started singing at Extassis, and the chance had undoubtedly opened doors and provided opportunities much larger then the small club in Everett. But still, after 10 years, she sang here and other small clubs dotted around Seattle. Never went big, never signed the larger contracts. It's funny how many of them had hung around Seattle despite not really having a reason to anymore. She gave him a small smile and briefly touched his shoulder as she passed. She knew why she was here, had even been part of it, in fact. Stefan motioned from the door to the back rooms. He finished the last of his sake and went to see Mr. Carvaggio. September 5th, 2074 Several days later he found himself pondering the meeting as he waited at another small table in another kind of bar. His room was a small meeting room, outfitted with the latest audio and display equipment, probably capable of putting some AAA corp conference rooms to shame. The Hotel California was practically a legend in the shadows, and had weathered 2.0 better then most similar establishments. Some people called it the Prime Runners graveyard, where retired 'runners went to die. Most of those people were just upset they couldn't get in. He grimaced as he thought back to the walk here when he'd spotted a mage obviously doing some sort of astral patrol outside the hotel. The mage had spotted him too, and had seemed torn about what to do. It wasn't illegal to be as powerful as he was, but it was dangerous, and Lone Star knew it. The inability to hide anything or deceive anyone about his magic was definitely a liability in the shadows. Carvaggio had been downright helpful during the meeting, as close to eager as Bakatare had ever seen the man. For someone that was always playing three or four angles, there definitely had to be something else going on. Carvaggio hadn't been overly surprised at his description of the Gallery, and hadn't asked many more questions before agreeing to shake his tree for some help. It had taken favors called in from half a dozen other fixers he'd worked with during his decade in the shadows, including Winter, but supposedly there was a group of people meeting in the bar outside that included everyone he needed to find her. He just had to figure out which ones they were. This post has been edited by eidolon: Jun 28 2007, 01:33 AM |
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Jun 19 2007, 04:59 PM
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#2
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The back-up plan Group: Retired Admins Posts: 8,423 Joined: 15-January 03 From: San Diego Member No.: 3,910 |
Flicking his cigarette in the general direction of the ashtray, Porter turns away from the glowing bastion of digital might and stares at the more tangible brick and mortar of the Hotel California. In the glory of AR, agents had scoured the outside of the building, ready warriors able to defend the hard carapaced creation beneath them. Without the computers, it was blase. One hotel out of a hundred others across the planet, designed to give off the illusion of warmth and welcoming, but an illusion is all it was.
"Time to get this shit over with..." he murmurs to himself as he crosses the street and heads for the main lobby. The lights of the lobby bring out the smaller details, small stains that Porter had done his best to brush off. Black slacks that had faded to brown over the years, an untucked dress-shirt. The ork could have been a grunge model in his three-quarter length jacket, though he didn't carry himself with the right attitude. His clothing wasn't designed to look the part, it had just been slept in enough times to come out that way. His image link brings up a picture of the man that Wolf had sent him to meet. Of course it was obvious that the sycophants had gotten there first, murmuring politely amongst themselves as they exchanged antiquated pleasantries. Walking past them, bumping shoulders when they didn't get out of his way, he stops in front of Bakatare. "Wolf sent me. He said after I do this thing, he and I are square, and you and he are square. I'm here to do this thing. Soka omae?" With the necessary greetings made, Porter drops down into a seat a couple tables away from the moths surrounding their flame. |
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