Salted Wounds [IC], a Deep Black Sea game Options

[Jack_Spade]

Salted Wounds

Chapter 1

"There are no dangerous weapons; there are only dangerous men."

R. Heinlein

Early November 2076, Vienna


The blood was leaking all over the the clean white tiled floor. It was silent enough for the grinding of the young woman's teeth to be audible as she tried to staunch the steady flow of life from the gash in her side while not passing out from pain. But pain had been a constant in her life and therefore the threshold for it had been raised again and again until she was able to surpress the animal instincts and panic that would normally accompany a wound of this severity. She didn't want to die - even if it would promise the sweet release from pain. An iron will made her fight through the beginning blackness brought on by the blood loss.
Still, her field of view had narrowed down to a small tunnel through which she now was barely able to make out the pair of expensive shoes moving quickly to reach her side. Their owners didn't hesitate to kneel in the pool of blood, dirtying the expensive suit trousers beyond saving. She felt a cool mist touch her and someone's strong, callused hands pull hers away to reveal the oozing gash. Another sensation, something trickling into the open wound. The pain was unbelievable. Red hot, tearing, burning, consuming. Finally, her threshold was surpassed and she fell back, her throat hoarse from screaming. Finally, blackness and oblivion.

Late January 2077, North Western Austria

Raph's commlink alerted him to a missed call and a message. The clock told him it was just after dawn on this grey winter day. The beginning day had banished the creatures from his dreams. It had been one of those very vivid ones. Dreadful things had happened and... even as he tried to remember the memories slipped away, evaporating like morning dew.
The message was from Harald Märle.
<<Hello Raph,
There is a job for you. Or rather Someone had one for Sophie, but now it's yours if you want. It's about finding a girl in trouble. He didn't want to tell me more, but he said that maybe Sophie's pupil would be up for the task. If you are interested, he'll meet you at the Starnberger See at the cross of the dead King Ludwig II, at 12.00 o'clock. I checked the comm number, but it was obviously a burner phone. He introduced himself as Herr Nacl.
Good bye
Harald>>

Late January 2077, Munich

Sharkboy was awoken by a rough shaking. Kennedy Vincent was as always surrounded by the smell of expensive cigars and whiskey.
"Hey, wake up. I told you not to go to that party. Shit. Get it together man." A glas of water was pressed to Sharkboy's lips which seemed to contain a slowly dissolving pill.
"You need a clear head. A friend of a friend got in contact with me. They are looking for an "intimidating professional, who can stand some rough and tumble stuff". Best part: It's not even illegal, just some job to find a missing girl. There's a big cred stick in it for you. So go get your pants and that face mask you use. The meeting is today at some lake. I booked you a car with the coordinates. And remember: Customer wants an intimidating professional."


Early February 2077, Munich, bnc's den

It had been almost a month now that the team had split up. Gerhardt had been supportive, organizing all the toys and gear bnc wanted, but the man himself hadn't visited her. Too dangerous, he had said. And likely too busy. Dr. Schmidt had been relocated to S-K Prime, now that his prototypes were back. Lot's of things to do. Slobbertooth had send a post card - an honest to god real paper post card - from somewhere in Marseille. Krestov had called a few times - he had been rerouted to Russia after arriving in Europe. He had urged bnc to stay safe until he could come back, but had been rather evasive on when this would be, why he had to go to Russia and what the hell he thought he was doing. The only thing he had said was that it was important and he didn't want to involve her unless absolutely necessary. His commlink had since then stayed in a small cafe in St. Petersburg.

The sun was shining outside and Anna was around, the only one from the previous run that had stuck with her.
Their conversation was interrupted by a message from one of the deep matrix hacker boards, that bnc frequented. ---Kypher69---, one of the local hackers she had gotten to know and if not like at least respect for his abilities, had sent her a private message:
<<Hey, you still in Munich? Had to leave for Berlin early, so I can't give you the multidimensional co-processor module for your headware. But I stashed it for you to retrieve: There's a electronics convention at the BMW museum. I hid it in the left wheel well of the Isetta on the fourth floor. Should be enough tech geeks around that security will have other things on their mind than a girl touching old cars.
Cheerio Motherfragger.>>