2072: Game World, IC thread for 2072: Recruitment always open! Options

[galenbd]

[April 15th, 2072 10:15am; NE41st St. Touristville, Redmond]
[External PAN=passive. Id = May Ziang][Internal PAN=hidden. Id = May Ziang]

Jamie flinches as a bullet impacts the wall above her head. She jerks her gun out of her pocket and drops flat to the ground on her side.

Almost thoughtlessly, she swaps her PAN to her more powerful hidden one. She sees the terrified boy come running out of the alley and get grabbed by some guy hiding behind the pile of garbage on the other side of the street.

Hunters! They might not stop for him.

She looks quickly down the alleyway, the daylight hampering her augmented vision trying to identify who’s shooting and what she has to do to get out of the way.

[Aria]

@Jotoman (& Jamie)
[April 15th, 2072 10:15am; NE41st St. Touristville, Redmond]

The filthy boy crumples into your grasp and you quickly become aware of the blood soaking into your jacket. He goes limp and seems to give up entirely, his breath rasping in an uncomfortable way.

Down the street from you there is a figure that has reacted to the gunfire, dropping to the ground, drawing a weapon and scoping the street with the calm detachment of a professional; your tactical system tags her as a level two threat potential.

From the alley that the boy emerged from you first hear and then see two pursuing figures. One is whipcord thin, in street leathers that have clearly had gang affiliations removed. The other is street muscle, the ridges on his arms indicating cheap vat grown implants with some wired edge, although nothing compared with the sleek chrome that you are running.

The targeting reticule in your vision aligns over their centre of mass and the taser, eminently quiet, spits twice, the darts impacting exactly where you aimed them. From directly in front of you there’s the snick of a flickblade and you are aware that the boy seems to be about to dig the dirty blade into your ribs.

[galenbd]

[April 15th, 2072 10:15am; NE41st St. Touristville, Redmond]
[External PAN=passive. Id = May Ziang][Internal PAN=hidden. Id = May Ziang]

The bullets seem to be intended for the running boy. What did he do that warrants 3 hunters? Ok, I need intel. Jamie opens up her PAN to the local area, trying to find all Nodes associated to the hunters.

She gets up from the ground and looks around for cover before getting involved in this fight. Once she gets back a list of PANs in the area, she hands the ex-ganger’s PAN off to her agent, Yukinko. She tells it, use this Sniffer utility to intercept all communication from that node.

[Seth]

[April 15th, 2072 10:15am; NE41st St. Touristville, Redmond]
[Pan=Hidden. Id = <Information not available>]

Jotamon's threat monitor suddenly placed a red target on the kid, and raised him to 'threat level 1: immediate and potential assassin'. The knife was outlined in red, as the blade moved slowly towards him. Online expert systems kicked in advising dealing with the melee threat first, and using the body for cover from incoming bullets. Sidestepping the clumsy blade he says "Hey kid, I'm not with them. See..." while overriding the kill order.

Two more darts winged through the air at the second man coming out of the alley.

Jotamon's field of vision momentarily flashed red. Number's spiralled across his display. Wind speed. Temperature. Time. All unimportant. The important number was reading a round zero: the number of rounds left in the current active weapon. The last time this had happened, Jotamon had been playing "Deadly Ninja's Nine" and all that was needed was to press the reload button. Shame it isn't that easy in real firefight he reflected.

The Move-by-Wire^TM took over again as Jotamon prepared to dodge incoming counter fire from the remaining hunter, seriously hindered by the need not to dodge onto the Kid's blade.

It had been a while since Jotamon had been in a serious fire fight. As a Mafia Made Man most people avoided a confrontation, even though he specialised in 'data recovery' and the more white collar crimes. He cursed the foolish decision that had brought him to Abdul's Secondhand Emporium without a bodyguard and heavy armor.

[Aria]

@Jamie
[April 15th, 2072 10:15am; NE41st St. Touristville, Redmond]

You are forced to reassess your initial assumption that the figure that grabbed the boy was one of the hunters (at least he is clearly at odds with the two that burst out of the alley way as his silenced weapon has taken them both down in short order).

Your comm returns a positive on the ‘links of the two twitching thugs and with a reflexive mental shrug you activate the sniffer program to track any wifi traffic. Sure enough you get a incoming live comm feed to both (ignorant fools haven’t even bothered to encrypt it)

<<Guys? Where the frag are you? What the hell is going on? We need to start the clean up...grab the damn kid and haul arse back here now!>>

@Doza
[April 15th, 2072 10:15am; NE41st St. Touristville, Redmond]

The mysterious comm. message said be here at 10:15 and intercept the package...they (whoever they are) even offered payment up front which was enough to get you out of bed at this ungodly hour...it seems that someone else has stepped in and grabbed it though (at this distance through the smog it’s impossible to see who, but they are big), if you want that bonus you might want to hustle over and retrieve the kid intact...

[Seth]

[April 15th, 2072 10:15am; NE41st St. Touristville, Redmond]
[Pan=Hidden. Id = <Information not available>]

"Calm down kid. I'm not trying to hurt you. These are the ones after you". Jotamon backed away from the kid: A knife fight is messy, no matter how good you are someone was likely to get hurt, and with Jotamon's luck it would be himself.

More expert systems were kicking in with advice: most of them recommending adding the child back to the immediate threat list, others scanning the area. Nothing higher than Threat level 2 at the moment. Facial scanning software kicked in examining the childs features. Muscle twitches recorded. Pupil dilation analysed, Saccadic movements of eyes at high levels. Eyelid droop measured. Assessment: Seriously tired and in adrenaline override. Optimal combat moves to take advantage of tunnel vision were considered and prioritized.

Jotamon didn't actually need the software to detect a bone tired, terrified kid. Backing away from the child hands held if front of him, Jotamon continued. "You're free to go if you want kid, but some serious people want you dead. I can spot you a bite to eat, and point out a place to squat if you need one, but whatever you do, here is not a good place to do it". Now that the immediate physical threat was over it was time to establish data about the more long term threat.

<<Initiate scan and sniffer programs. Prioritize in arc 27 through 50 degrees. Initiate spatio-temporal correlation. >> Jotamon started running software that had a chance of detecting people or drones before they came into sight. <<Activate calming pheromones: density 3>> hopefully the kid would respond.

Circling around the kid until Jotamon was near the unconsious forms, he reached down extracting commlinks and identification.

"We need to get out of here: I don't know if these people have ..."

<<[Wireshark report] Intercepted call: ...<crackle> kid and<crackle> <crackle> now!>>

"Oh oh. It looks like they are coming. Decision time Kid." Then he said the words that would change both of their lives "Come with me if you want to live"

[Aria]

Ember sat down gingerly, grimacing a the stains on the table in front of him. The place smelt peculiar...something that couldn’t be explained by the rancid body odour and stale soybear smells that permeated everything here. He was exceptionally conscious that his clothes, although casual, clearly set him apart from the usual clientele. He hoped that the holstered pistol and the sigils on his ring would be enough to stop anyone causing trouble, failing that the alluring form of Tempest sitting next to him and conversing in Gaelic would be sure to cow any fools that might otherwise have interfered in his business here. Her semi transparent nature and the steely glint in her eye were one thing but the flickers of lightening that periodically dripped from her fingers to sizzle on the table top would do the trick.

~You are alarming the locals but sadly that is what is required in a place like this. I apologise for asking you to manifest here but you are doing an invaluable task of keeping the air fresh!~

He could feel the laughter in her voice as she replied

~I do not mind, this place is so different from your usual haunts, it is uncommon to see you discomfited...are you sure your wife is not playing games with you?~

~Would that she were able to! The clinic is reputable, for the area anyway, and she has helped them before... that accident was no accident and they need to be somewhere safe and quiet and this was the only place I could think of. I would have taken them to Stillwater but that journey is too dangerous at the moment and I need to avoid the usual places~

~Yes, of course, I am sorry, I did not mean to rub any salt in those wounds, but you have told me they will be fine and soon. It is just unfortunate that you need to stay quiet for a while – I would relish the task of tracking down those responsible for that atrocity~

He knew that he was being ostentatious but after the brush with the gang outside it seemed prudent to display the fact that he was not an easy mark. He knew that Charlotte would probably berate him for a lack of subtlety but he was too tired to care at the moment. He had only ducked into this hole to avoid the acid rain coming down outside. He had a lecture to give in the morning and that couldn’t be avoided...it may even present the chance to flush out whoever had so rashly attacked his family.

He firmly quashed his rage once more, conscious that his magic was prone to manifest in unfortunate ways when he allowed his wilder side to the fore. He signalled to the wary bar keep that he wanted another drink...not that he had touched the one in front of him...

[galenbd]

[April 15th, 2072 10:15am; NE41st St. Touristville, Redmond]
[Pan=Passive. Id = <Information not available>]

I wonder what they're trying to clean up.

Jamie slowly holsters her pistol, then keeps her hands in view. She looks up and down the street for vehicles before crossing slowly toward the man and the boy. She stops out of reach. That guy was fast. I need to be sure not to mess with him. It’s his kill, It’s his spoils.

”Hoi. I’m sure there are more of these guys looking for that kid and I’d bet they won’t wait long once these guys don’t report in”

I have one end of the transmission, but they’ll stop calling and come in person. Jamie stands distracted as she starts looking for the source of the transmission.

In her AR view, a transparent window opens defining the attributes of this end of the transmission. Jamie lets her keychain fade away and brings Hoko into view. The small green Chinese dog fades into view. After Jamie speaks gently to it, Hoko bounds into the open AR window and out of sight.

[Seth]

[April 15th 2011; 08:14pm: The Horny Troll]
Ember glanced towards the bar where the Chinaman is rearranging grime on a beer mug with a gray cloth. His eyes fail to meet yours: like many mundanes he probably considers your open display of magic the same as a street samurai casually juggling grenades.

The three pool tables are in heavy use. This seems to be the night for the local pool ladder: trolls vs orcs. At the moment you suspect the trolls are winning based on the bone crushing back slaps that they give themselves and the orcs. Even if this is a low dive, the people here seem comfortable with each other.

When you entered, it went quiet. When Tempest entered, it went quieter. A couple of the local wannabees nearly made a move for you, but the older wiser ones pulled them back. You remember the quiet, and you are suddenly hearing it again.

Turning towards the door you see them enter. Two shaikujin. Impecabbly tailored business suits outlandish in this establishment, known to the locals as the Horny Troll. The strangers hesitate for a moment in the doorway, mirrored shades scanning the tables, then they start towards you. All conversation has stopped, all eyes follow the shaikujin. You can hear the brains adding up the value of the understated jewellery, the antique watches, rings, diamonds earstuds and just the suits themselves. Some one dressed like that coming to the Horny Troll is just asking to be rolled.

The orc tries it on for size. An orc whose AR declares him to be called "The Pig". 130 Kilos of fat, muscle and bad temper. He was heeled like a walking armoury. Pool cue in hand you see his piggy bloodshot eyes narrow, and a malevolent grin begin to form.

You're sure that the Pig is out of the shaikujin's line of sight, but then you see one of them shrug. A knife appears in his hand. Without turning he flicks it towards the Pig. It thuds into the fake pillar behind him, carrying a little of the Pigs Mohawk with it. The Pigs face goes pasty, and he busies himself shakily applying chalk to the cue.

The largest of the two suited figures greets you. "Ember" he says. "Our Employer needs your services. If you come with us, we'll take you to him". He pauses. "It's about your wife".

[Seth]

[April 15th, 2072 10:15am; NE41st St. Touristville, Redmond]
[Pan=Hidden. Id = <Information not available>]

Jotamon waited for the Kid's answer. He got it in a surprising way, as the child collapsed. Having been surprised by the kids fake feinting before, Jotamon ensured that the hand with the knife in it was under control as he picked the child up for the second time.

Jotamon's threat management system were calming down. No visible threats, the level 2 threat was talking: always a good sign in Jotamon's experience. He replayed the footage he had captured when the bullet aimed at the kid nearly hit her. She didn't look like she was involved. As always after moments of sudden adrenaline, Jotamon felt like sitting down and shaking. Still no one was dead yet, so whatever happened could be fixed.

"Greetings. Now isn't the time for introductions, but I think you for your help. I came shopping " Jotamon gestured at the components scattered among the rubbish "but I suspect that more urgent things are at hand. I came by Metro, not expecting anything like this. I would be further indebted to you if you have a vehicle nearby, as we need to escape the immediate vicinity. "

[galenbd]

[April 15th, 2072 10:15am; NE41st St. Touristville, Redmond]
[PAN=Passive. Id = <Information not available>]

Jamie replies quickly, "I do have a car, just not at hand."

Her face abstracts a bit as she focuses on multiple tasks internally. She hands the AR display with Hoko hunting down the transmission source to Yokinko. She clarifies for the helper code, Help Hoko find this node.

She spawns two more displays in her AR. Using one, she connects to her car's node and commands, Wake up.

The other she connects to her mapping software and defines a route to her location. Once her car is online, she connects to it's routing subsystem and dumps the planned route into it. She triggers it's execution switch and turns her attention back to the man and the boy.

She continues, "I'm bringing it here. It's got a dog-brain, but it's a better driver than me."

[Seth]

[April 15th, 2072 10:16am; NE41st St. Touristville, Redmond]
[Pan=Hidden. Id = <Information not available>]

Threat assessment systems scan the area, analysis software reports options. Jotamon switches the battleware to background: it would self select if needed.
<<Deactivate pheremone emission || Battle systems to passive || Prioritise Wireshark report>>

Jotamon lays the Kid down gently and reloads his Taser while waiting. "Do you mind having a look at his wounds? I have a DocWagon kit here" he removes his first aid kit from the pouch on his belt "Be careful: he's a fighter and may have a concealed weapon. I'd do it, but I suspect I would be better keeping a lookout while in case these people's friends come"

"I take it that like myself you have no idea what is happening here. Poor kid looks like he has had a tough a life"

[galenbd]

[April 15th, 2072 10:16am; NE41st St. Touristville, Redmond]
[PAN=Passive. Id = <Information not available>]

Yokinko is handling tracking down these guy’s superiors. This guy is probably better than me in a fire fight, so it’s reasonable for him to be on watch. What kind of person brings a medkit to go shopping?

Sure, she agrees. Jamie takes the medkit from him and admits, It’s not something I’ve been called upon to do in a while.

She approaches the boy carefully and briefly frisks him for weapons and obvious injuries. Once he has been disarmed, she plugs in the medkit and waits for the display to reveal the boy’s injuries.

[Aria]

@Jamie
[April 15th, 2072 10:16am; NE41st St. Touristville, Redmond]

The kid barely stirs as you tend to his scrapes and abrasions and the tear in his arm muscles from a passing bullet. The expert system in the medkit identifies shock, exhaustion and minor malnutrition (not unexpected given the nature of his clothing, although he otherwise seems healthier than you might have anticipated)

Yokinko flags a possible trace about three blocks away, that kid can run! It's difficult to pinpoint exactly as the signal has broken off before the trace completed...

@Doza
[April 15th, 2072 10:16am; NE41st St. Touristville, Redmond]

Well well well, it seems that your mark has been snagged by Jotamon of all people...it should be easy enough to get him to back off and let you take the boy, right?

[Digital Heroin]

[April 15th, 2072; Somewhere High, Woodvine, Redmond Barrens]
[Commlink Offline]

He lounges in the shadow cast by the hutch that tops the stairwell of an old apartment block, the wind licking at his face. Around him are the noises of teenagers at play. A snippet of laughter wafting over the breeze, the plink of cans on the rooftop, the rattle of spraypaint containers being shaken, the hiss of vibrant color being expelled onto genuine concrete faded and pockmarked by time; these are the backbeat to his lazy meditation. Half a dozen of his fellow traceurs are taking shifts hanging off the side of the building in swiss seats so that they can contribute to the large mural they are brazenly laying down. Seta is content to swish about the last of his now tepid Tecate in its can and soak in the atmosphere. Even at nineteen he was an elder statesman with the crew. He was on the verge of becoming too old to keep up, even if he could outrun any one of them. It was not so much a matter of speed, but of attitude. Somewhere along the line you just lose that cool, and you spend the rest of your life trying to get it back instead of being one step ahead of it. The knowledge was universal.

Seta's musing is cut off by a pulse at his hip. Without a spare look, he reaches down and unfastens the old school pager from his belt. The pager, that museum piece, meant it was Normal contacting him with a job. The guy paid the bills, so Seta did not protest too much that he employed one way communications whenever he could get away with it.

3-10010 166th Way-P

The short string was Normal-speak for a pickup with a three hour window. The address causes Seta a moment of pause, however. The street designation would put it somewhere in Bellvue, but it did not immediately click. He stands effortlessly, leaving his beer in the shadow of the stairwell, and traces a thumb over the poweslide on his commlink. He was high enough up, and in just the right kind of neighborhood, that there was no way he was accessing the Matrix. That does not concern him, however. As soon as the commlink powers on, his PAN left hidden for the moment, it establishes a link with his contacts, and images from his POV travelling the mutual data-bridge, along with the positioning feed from those good old GPS satelites flying overhead, allow the commlink to determine where he is at the moment. He slips on a glove, raises his hand to spawn a keyboard only he can see, and taps in the address Normal had paged him.

A grin forms on Seta's lips as the commlink reaches into its massive internal memory and plums its virtual storage for the address in question. The result only widens the grin. It looks like he has a mountain to climb, and a good thirteen miles or so of Interstate 405 to run along the way. He slides on a pair of sunglasses and tumbs the controls on his commlink, calling up a fractal music generator that Skytale has given him the last time they talked. As the program starts to pick up the noises around him and generate a slowly rising beat, he tips his fellow traceurs a two fingered salute, and makes his way to the edge of the rooftop.

Time to punch the clock.

[April 15th, 2072; Cougar Mountain, Bellevue]
[Passive Mode|Seta Drake]

The lean, wirey muscled elf makes the last leg of run up the mountain road on easy strides, the music having gone from an industrial grind fueled by the sounds of traffic and urban life to a more sedate trance-like beat fed by the sounds of natura around him. His skintight black jumpsuit, displays the flash of an Emerald City Knights courier now that he is approaching, complete with the - more traditional - bicycle courier logo upon his back.

He is grinning to himself as he approaches the pickup sight. Ten minutes early, and he even made a diversionary run through Bellevue Square to pick up a couple of protine gel packs and a game of catch me if you can with the MallSec cops. He slides off his shades, and runs a hand through his long silver hair looking the place over and wondering just what manner of rich a person is they can live up here, but that they still rely on a low-rent courier service to transport their goods. Then again, it makes a certain kind of sense. His lot were below the radar, and did not ask many questions. All he cares about is how long they want the delivery to take, and where he is taking the package.

[galenbd]

[April 15th, 2072 10:16am; NE41st St. Touristville, Redmond]
[PAN:Passive ID-Undefined]

When Yokinko reports back that Hoko lost the signal, Jamie goes and checks it out herself. Drek! Whoever it was disconnected.

Ok, How else can I find him. Ok, I can hack that guy’s commlink for the call log. That should have logged the access ID of the person who called him. And with him out cold, I shouldn't have to worry about his response to any active alert.

She opens up another AR window and starts a brute force hack.

[Aria]

@Jamie:
[April 15th, 2072 10:16am; NE41st St. Touristville, Redmond]

Your skills plus your cutter program breezes through the almost non-existent security on this guy’s comm. This just further goes to prove that these two are small fry...although the kid has clearly come off the worse for an encounter with them.

The comm. log opens up before you and a quick mental flick allows you to rule out the various calls to bunraku parlours and fast food orders to leave a limited contact list that might be of interest. That last incoming call is flagged as being from Bastard so obviously a close acquaintance!

@Jotamon:
[April 15th, 2072 10:16am; NE41st St. Touristville, Redmond]

Your threat analysis suddenly ratchets up a slot as a figure looms out of the morning murk...you do a double take as you realise that it’s Doza... Doza?

A car slides up beside you, it seems your ride has arrived in a timely manner...except it’s a Jackrabbit which would be a squeeze with you and the lady and the kid, but there’s bugger all chance of fitting Doza in too...and this soon after she’s walked back into your life there’s no way you are letting her slip away again any time soon!

[Aria]

@Seta:
[April 15th, 2072; Cougar Mountain, Bellevue]

The lodge that you are approaching looks like a cross between a rustic log cabin and a high tech downtown loft apartment with impressive views back across Bellevue towards Council Island. Propping your bike against a handy tree you move up the driveway. Aware of the monitoring stations on the approach you move confidently to the door which glides open.

You are met by a girl, younger than yourself, street judging by the quality, or lack of, of her clothes. She seems out of place here and looks like she knows it.

“Come in then, they’re waiting for you”

She leads you into an open hallway and then down some steps to another level recessed into the hill. It’s a junk shop paradise down here, vastly different to the spartan living space above. An old man standing in the corner seems to assess you and then, obviously satisfied, walks off somewhere into the house. At a work bench a hunched figure waves vaguely behind him at you and the girl

“Sit, sit, this won’t take long...ah, there” and you hear the snap of a lock and a tone indicating some sort of electronic security. “Here, this is the package. She has the address...” she glares at him “don’t look at me like that girl, I know who you are and I know that your charge is safe and sound and you’re at a loose end. She’ll be going with you...no, don’t argue and give me some crap about working alone, she’ll keep up and run interference. This is important!”

He waits for a response...

[Aria]

@Seth:
[April 15th 2011; 08:14pm: The Horny Troll]

Merde! Ember examined the two men calmly, inwardly seething...who were they and what did they know? Gripping the baton in its scabbard in the lining of his jacket he rose smoothly to his feet...beside him, sensing his emotion, Tempest began to take on a much more stormy appearance, like dark clouds racing across the sun...

“Your employer? Forgive my lack of trust but you will need to give me something more to go on before I will just walk out of here with you...”

[galenbd]

[April 15th, 2072 10:16am; NE41st St. Touristville, Redmond]

Movement outside of the AR draws her notice. Her car jerks around the corner and slides over to the edge of the street near her. The whine of the electric engine is too loud and cycles faster and slower at random intervals.

Ok, other stuff to do. Jamie hands the Access ID in the call log off to Yokinko. Please tap all of the outgoing communications for this ID in this AR window.

As she turns back to the man and the boy, a hooded figure looms out of the smog. I though he was 3 blocks away.

The familiar surge of chemicals occurs in response to her biological implants. Jamie drops to a knee next to the comatose boy and pulls out her pistol. Her smartlink comes on line painting a crosshair on the chest of the newcomer.

[Seth]

@Ember
[April 15th 2011; 08:14pm: The Horny Troll]
The same larger guy adjusts his cuffs, examining them in some detail, then continues, his British accent becoming more pronounced.

"Our employer has not authorized us to reveal any such details. Or indeed the location of the meet. He felt that the use of your wife's name would be enough to pique your interest. Should you decline to attend, our employer has not requested us to use any coercion to encourage you. In the event that you choose to accompany us, you would not be physically or magically restrained."

"Parkinsons have received a bond in Escrow to ensure your arrival and safe departure" at this point, the larger guy slowly and exaggeratedly carefully reaches inside his jacket: opening it first to show no hidden weapons. He extracts a certified bond, in paper no less, for 100,000 nuyen. "Should you experience physical harm during your visit, our employer would loose the bond, and more importantly loose access to Parkinson's services."

"Our employer has placed a vehicle, chauffeur, and ourselves at your disposal. Should you chose you are at liberty to follow that vehicle rather than sit in it, although we request that you inform us should that be your plan. Given your high level of stress and personal discomfort, I encourage you to realize that you can be assured that we know nothing about the matter that he wishes to discuss, have never physically met our employer and should you decide not to attend we will be departing to fulfill other missions for other employers."

He leaves the paper on the table for you to examine. It indeed a bond made out to "Parkinson's Bailiffs" for the stated sum of money in the event that yourself, your goods or chattels are harmed or restrained. The instruction to Parkinson's include picking you (destination not given), dropping you off for the meeting (destination not given), retrieving you from the meeting, and dropping you off at any place you designate within 20 miles of Seattle center.

"Mr Ember: we are instructed to wait up to 10 minutes for you to join us. We will be in the car outside"

The two of them turn away and walk towards the door.

As they leave the silence stops and there is a storm of conversations and discussions.

[Seth]

[April 15th, 2072 10:16am; NE41st St. Touristville, Redmond]
[Pan=Hidden. Id = <Information not available>]

Jotamon's threat monitor exploded into red. His pharmacopia was pushing fight or flight drugs into his bloodstream, while the Move By Wire system began planning intrinsically unstable moves designed to allow quick response. All of this mean nothing.

"Garggle" Jotamon said in an intelligent way "But" he continues.

The expert systems offered advice, all of which was neglected

"Huh...but you're dead"

[Aria]

@Seth
[April 15th 2011; 08:14pm: The Horny Troll]

Ember considered his options...these were glorified messenger boys and they seemed ligitimate. He was confident enough in his own abilities that perhaps he can trust them for now...he needed to know what the hell was going on and if this mysterious employer could offer some insight then it was too valuable an opportunity to risk by being squeemish

Hunching his shoulders against the nasty weather he followed the goons out to their car

~Tempest, will you keep a wary eye on our surroundings?~

With another moment of concentration he reached out into the astral and conjoured a miniscule watcher

~Tell my wife that all is well and I am investigating a lead. I will contact her soon and check on their progress~

[Seth]

[April 15th 2011; 08:14pm: Outside the Horny Troll]
Ember follows the two Bailiffs, outside. He pauses. That has to be one of the nicest cars he has ever seen: A Rolls Royce Silver Phaeton limousine, idling at the curb. There is a chauffeur in the drivers compartment, jacked into the control system using a datajack and a fibre optic.

The two Bailiffs usher Ember into the spacious passenger area. The larger one accompanies you, while the smaller one travels up front. There is plenty of space for Tempest.

The car heads downtown

[April 15th 2011; 08:30pm: Kobe Terrace Park]
The Rolls cruises silently into the downtown core of the sprawl. You guess the destination well before the limousine pulls to a smooth stop at South Jackson Street, just outside Kobe Terrace Park. This is a beautiful spot: a tiny oasis of green surrounded by glass and steel corporate high-rises.

And usually a deadly spot. Despite the best efforts of Lone Star and corporate security forces, Kobe Park frequently serves as a killing ground at night, a battlefield for downtown gangs

At this time however, the place seems deserted. As Ember's business suited minders ushers him out of the car, there is no one in sight. They silently point into the park.

As Ember enters, leaving the minders behind him, he sees a man in a business suit, with a trowel, weeding one of the raised gardens. As Ember approaches he rises. This is someone accustomed to command. An aura of respectability and authority radiates from him.

"Thank you for accepting my invitation. My name is Jonathan Johnson. You may call me Jon. I believe that we are in a position to help each other. I understand that you are probably equal parts angry and concerned. I hope to offer the possibility of some focus for that anger"

"Have you heard of the band "Concrete Spectres"? No? Well they are a very up and coming death thrash band, and I can modestly say that they are the biggest recording act, and live draw in the Music Business today. The Concrete Spectres are managed by Death's Head studios, which is managed by Mr Allenby. Mr Allenby has received a number of death threats recently, which he ignored. Then his car exploded and he recruited your wife to find people to investigate the matter. "

"It would be in everyones' best interest to discover who is behind this and, um, terminate the flow of events as it were. However Allenby wants to manage this on his own. My principals find this unacceptable: If Allenby is killed, or the attempts on his life become public knowledge, Death's Head studio shares will drop in value, and they may be forced to cancel some Concrete Spectre concerts. Neither of these eventualities would be good for business."

"I have contacted you to request that you take over the investigation were your wife left off. My principals want you to investigate the attempts on your wife's life, and Allenby's life, to find the responsible party, and turn them over to us for processing. In return for this I am authorized to offer you a significant sum of money up front, and five times that should you accomplish the mission."

"I suggest that you start your investigation by speaking with Allenby."

Mr Johnson looks at his watch, then points at a couple of data chips resting on the stone wall.

[ Spoiler ]

Data chip one is a Certified Anonymous Credstick for <a large sum of money>
Data chip two is a summary of:
Mr Allenby's death threats: Lots of gruesome text, pictures of Allenby being maimed and mangled
A bio of Mr Allenby:

Mr Allenby: Death's Head studio manager. Dwarf. Temperament: Irrasible.
Address: Suite 500, 2265 Occidental Avenue,
LTG: 1206(53-8317)
Mr Allenby has a history of long and successful management. His most recent two finds have raised him to the position of one of the best known musical agents in the Business. From 2068 through 2070, he was the manager of Jet Black [32.7Mps of deeply depressing angst ridden music], and since 2071 his band the Concrete Spectres [10.4Mps of louder but equally depressing, atonal angst ridden screaming and music] have rocketed to success. Mr Allenby is not married and ...

"These should get you started. Any questions?"

[Alyena]

Doza made her way towards the intersection her brief directed her to. In the corner of her eye a clock ticked towards the time she was told to be there.

"Now, how did the Johnson know when the 'kid' would be just here?" she muses. "Ah well, the pay is good enough not to ask too many questions. How hard can it be to pick up one pesky kid?"

As this thought enters her mind Fate takes a hand and answers the question. With gun fire!

Doza drops to a crouch, making use of the available cover without conscious thought, a gun appearing in her hand. The previously quiet intersection is now a flurry of activity. A boy, obviously 'the kid' of her brief, erupts from an ally, two thugs close behind. Another figure, closer to the action, also appears to be taking cover.

"Drek!" Doza mutters under her breath as this bystander grabs the kid and pulls him into cover. "That's all I need, a 'have a go hero' complicating things!"

The 'hero' however seems more than capable as the two thugs are quickly dealt with.
"Perhaps I'll talk nicely to this one rather than just demand the kid" she thinks as she starts to make her way towards the action. As a large and cybered troll asking nicely often got her just what she wanted.

"Oh no, not another one, this just gets better and better!" Doza grumbles as a second bystander, this time a woman, joins the first. As she draws closer something about the way the man stands, the tilt of his head seems familiar.
She closes her eyes and shakes her head in disbelief as a very familiar gesture confirms her suspicion. "Of all the streets, in all the towns, he has to walk into this one" Doza is a fan of old 2D films.

Jotamon turns as she approaches, his eyes widen in recognition.
"Garggle..... But.....Huh...but you're dead"
"The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated." Doza had been itching to quote that to someone, anyone for over a year. She suddenly realised, of all the people she could have said it to, this man was the one who was most important to her.