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

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:15:23; S 19th St. In a Combat Cab]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor

A street name? Two actually, corner of Wall street and Bond Street.

With a baffled expression, Adrian listens to Saint.

She had a bomb implanted in her own head? Because that was better than - well, somehow not quite as horribly bad as - the alternatives?

Shaking his head, he says Some sort of night life that is. People having bombs put into their skulls.

Didn't even know I was invited. And then this woman, Saint. "Saint" - "Boddhisatva", different frame of reference, roughly same idea. Well, minus some Christian superstition.

Want me to drive you there?

Anyway, if there's a minute strand linking my fate that dead woman's, there certainly is a thick rope between hers and Saint's.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:15:54; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

She looked out the rear window at her bike, then back toward Adrian. She also looked at her surroundings as she spoke.

"Do you have something a little less-- destroyed, in mind?"

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:16:14; S 19th St. In a Combat Cab]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor

Well, I'm no expert in these kind of things but I'd thought we could go have a look-around where I picked her up. Maybe she slipped up and went straight from her, well her operation to the corner; maybe there's something to see giving us an idea what else she might've done there. Or there's someone nosy and talkative. Adrian shrugs. Gotta try something, no?

Something. How about something else? Well, given how much his "tourist kit" cost me, I might as well bother him.
With the telltale look of someone interacting with AR interfaces, Adrian writes out a message and sends it off on its way.

<<from:flyboy to:the_moose subject:just a question>
Hey, sorry to bother you but if I found myself in Everett - say about here<GPS/GridGuide location> - and felt the urgent need to have something put into my head, think there'd be a discreet place to do it?>

Well, here goes nothing.

Just asked someone I know whether he knows someone near where I picked Jessica up, who sticks things into people's heads. Worth a try, I guess.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:16:40; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

Saint looked at him as if he might be hallucinating, which was saying something, her involuntarily twitching eye added to the effect.

"Yeah, got that. My thoughts exactly. But-- I was referring to the functional state of your car, sweetheart. Yeah the thing is a rolling billboard for how sturdy these things are, but you really want to cruise around town with a sign on our back in neon lights stating "obvious war zone in rear-view"?

She sighed, having to explain anything was not her forte tonight. Not that she was usually this gruff, but her headache compounded the issue.

"I was thinking if you have a Joe Nobody car at home, so we can blend in. I have my bike, but it seats one in a general state of comfort, two's gonna get really comfy, yeah?"

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:18:13; S 19th St. In a Combat Cab]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor

Oops. And ouch!

Err, I guess you're right; doesn't look exactly inconspicuous.

Look at the thing. Now imagine you'd have sat there in a normal car...

Sorry, but I can't help you there; got a bike myself too. Looks a lot like yours, in fact.

Wouldn't have guessed that not having a car would be a problem.

Hmm, might be another really stupid question on my part, but can you ride your bike with the way your eye acts up? If so, you could go ahead on your own while I drop off this "billboard" at the depot, get my bike and we meet up in Everett. If you'd rather not risk it, might wanna treat yourself to being chauffeured around on your own bike.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:16:40; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

That perked her up a bit more, things were looking up, a fellow motorcycle enthusiast.

"I should be fine, no breaking of any speed limits happening tonight I can assure you. You said Bond and Wall street? Yeah, I can get directions easy enough. I'll see you there, but at some point I need to go see someone for this glitch."

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:18:13; S 19th St. In a Combat Cab]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor

Ok, take care. Tapping on his commlink again, Adrian causes an ARO - a plain white businesscard that reads "John Taylor", "flyboy" and gives a matrix address - to float in midair between him and Saint. Seeing as you'll probably get there first, why don't you give me a line when you arrive.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:17:38; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

She made sure to route it to her actual commlink, nodding to him. This night was shaping up to be a long one, she felt bad that she'd been cursing Tomoko under her breath for being late in replying, taking a good hour to respond to her in kind. After pulling her effects out of the back seat, she made her way back to the Suzuki.

Saint's curiosity spiked, having time to think about the mission on her way over. She wasn't quite sure if she could handle two jobs at once, quickly compiling a new message for her fixer before she rode off.

<<@Tomoko: Something has come up, is this the urgent kind or can it wait? [Saint]>>

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:18:13; S 19th St. In a Combat Cab]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor

Watching Saint walk over to her bike, Adrian lets his mind wander for a second. What was that old thing his uncle once muttered? Hate to see you leave but love to watch you go? Heh, some other time, some other life, who knows?

Waving a goodbye to Saint, Adrian drives off

...and takes his time to compose a message to his boss

[April 17h 2072, 23:49:07; 120 th NE Ave; almost in sight of the Touristville Combat Cab department]

...sending it off just before reaching "home base".

<<from:CC#19493@8746 to:CC_8746 subject:ending my shift a bit early>
Cab got caught in a bomb explosion. Might want to have someone look it over. RTB. Taking some hours off.
J. Taylor>

See, didn't even have to lie. And with a bit of luck, I'm already leaving the parking lot on my bike before he even sees it.

With an unusually smug grin, Adrian pulls into the parking spot assigned to Seattle's Combat Cab #19493.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@ E:PL
[May 5th, 2072; Marseilles, The refectory of St. Madeleine]

The elderly and powerful abbot's summons at this very late hour of the night, while most certainly not unexpected, still boded ill for Father Anselm given the events of the evening. I knew I should have reined in my connection with the Lord but there wasn't much I could do... The quiet-moving priest moved rapidly down the hall, seeming to glide in motion, outwardly calm, inwardly a wreck of doubt. The abbot was not known to be merciful to those who brought attention to the inner workings of the church, and if the Sylvestrines had not managed to cleanse the area before onlookers could arrive who would know about magical methods of tracing, it was going to be a worse night.


The slowly flickering fire at the end of the refectory hall glittered softly in the seemingly cavernous space between the refectory entrance and it's high table, some 200 meters in all, it was a grand edifice of a powerful and ancient moral authority. The abbot was back-lit by the mammoth fireplace and as Anselm moved closer he could feel the man watching him with all the power that had been invested into such a frail body. The abbot was known to personally torture those who were deemed useless by the church and well Anselm knew that attempting to resist would just lengthen the process.

The abbot rose quietly and stood watching as Anselm arrived at the steps to the dias and promptly bowed to the ground, "My lord, I ask forgiveness for incurring the Lord's wrath tonight.... I believed that our pawn would be overcome.." The quiet stillness held more threat than any outburst that the abbot could have thrown into his face. Anselm sought to find his inner sense of peace in the Lord's work as he always did during his devotions, but it was a search without success as the very air seemed to grow cold around his body.

NO! I will not go quietly! He felt the abbot building his power around him, releasing the power of the ether onto Anselm's unshielded form. Regardless of future reparations Anselm fought to quench the hungering void of the abyss that the abbot threw around him like a constricting cloak of doubt. He sought to find the fire of the Lord to fill the vacuum and failed for what seemed ages until he finally found a spark deep within his soul that blossomed into a raging inferno to warm his body and close off the void.

Again the abbot's quiet demeanor amplified the attack against his very mind as he felt the abbot send a spear of divine omniscience into the core of his mind, only after a few seconds did he manage to thrust the abbot away, forcibly throwing him backwards over the dias table where he sprawled almost to the fireplace. Anger seethed within Anselm and for moments which stretched into eternity he held a lance of plasma, greater than the one he had thrown at the heathen, in fact greater than he had indeed realized he could have held without being torn to pieces, at the throat of the aging and now weak-seeming abbot. "My Lord you have taken much from me this night, knowing my thoughts in ways that only God should use, especially against one of his servants. You now know I speak no lie when I say I did as I believed the Lord wanted me to... do not attack me again my Lord... God and God alone will be my doubter!"

The anger spent, Anselm released the spear, allowing it to billow up to the refectory roof and disappear, thankful indeed that he had been given the grace to hold such power for even a second in his righteous defence. The abbot regained his composure remarkably well and though he eyed Anselm warily, as one alpha wolf to another, he merely held out his hand and said, "My son, it seems God has more in store for you than I could have seen. However, you committed grave acts that threaten to break our secret charge in the world this night and moreover, you did so with articles of the Church in your possession... I require them of you now, or you will feel the full might of Holy Church against your soul."

His threat was not idle, as Anselm could practically see the buildup of power around the old abbot. He realized in that instant that the abbot had merely been testing him, and that his full power had been sheltered so that he could gauge the worthiness of Anselm's fervor. Reluctantly, Anselm handed the two foci over that he had been lent during his time in France, neglecting to mention his possession of two more which he had encountered on his travels to the Holy Land. "As you wish my lord.... would you still have me carry out the mission for which all was risked this evening?"


The abbot smiled, in such a drawn face it was almost a rictus of death, and nodded in affirmation, "Indeed my son, you have proven yourself worthy of the mission as well as now having a need for you to be absent from our small city for some time, at least until you have something to show for your efforts...You will find your package to be two people, a father and his son. The son is collateral but the father is the real point of interest for this group of heathens and devil-worshippers; be on your guard, he is one of those whom the devil has granted the ability to interface with all manner of matrix based machines. How one can not see that this is not of the Lord is beyond the sight of the faithful as how can one commune with that which has no soul, that which is harsh and unmoving? Either way, ensure he reaches his destination safely at all costs; we must know how many more to purge or if any can be turn to God's holy work. You will stop over in the UK, in fact quite close to our friends at the newly reconsecrated Rosslyn Abbey. Then from there, it is hoped that this group, who goes by the name of Stillwater, will facilitate further transport for you; if not however, you are to be in contact with a fixer known to sully her reputation by dealing with such people by the name of Argent, and our faithful will arrange for your convenient transport via Chicago and then on to Seattle."


Anselm stood for a moment, uncertain as to his dismissal before bowing mutely and retreating as quickly as he had come. Now to pick up my charges and flee this country as quickly as possible before the abbot changes his mind.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@ E:PL
[May 19th, 2072, 08:05:45; Aire-en-Provence Airfield]

Sorting out the disposal of his package had been a tedious affair taking much of the previous night as the son had not been, as Anselm had assumed, a youth in his teens but rather a toddler, no more than 2 years old and expressing some rather interesting genetic tendencies himself. The headache the child's bawling had instilled in his mind left the normally emotionally neutral priest in a state not fit for normal company.

"So, I am here. Where and when do we begin?" The lithe Frenchman showed up right as Anselm had expected and hoped for, looking indecently clean and well-rested. The priest merely motioned to the waiting cargo plane and turned to move up the steps to the passenger's portion of the craft. "I want to be rid of this cargo as soon as possible... the child is a mess and therefore I'm certain you will have no qualms with watching over it correct? Either way, there is refreshment in the cabin once you get your gear settled, please, I know you can be trusted to be professional but at least make certain your safeties are on? This child has been a nightmare and I have not slept one iota..."

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 21:10:03 Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

Hawke paused for a second, looking at Jack with a quisical tone, "My young friend, let me give you a piece of advice for free shall I? In your games, do you always tell the players what you intend? Do you in fact wear all your emotions on your sleeve? I would think not, especially seeing how well you have done in my games... Take a piece of your experience there and use it to your advantage.... Alina is good and everything she does, she does for a reason... Be kind to her and you will find you have learned a lot by the time she is ready to teach you. You seek to make a name for yourself my young friend.... don't do it by having my Grandma kill you..."

Lightning quick, his tone is back to genial and light as Jack had always known him. "But my friend, I will see what I can do about finding you some opportunities to make good on getting into the better games shall I? I know your eyes light up every time you hear loose lips speaking of the Vashon Island game... but you are a far pace from that yet."

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 21:12:24 Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

Grandma? Does he mean that literally or as just a point of keeping things family-like here?

"I would be very grateful about any information about the Vashon Island game or any game with enough chips involved. As far as your Grandma is concerned. She wanted me to get her some caseless ammo. I'm afraid that's one of those many things I'm still learning. I am trying to get her how to teach me how to shoot better, and I don't know who to talk to get the right kind of ammo or whatnot. Any ideas on who I need to talk to, or do you know anyone that you trust with me getting ammo for your Grandma?"

Jack played the ignorance card. It wasn't a good defense, or even a defense at all. He offered the one thing that most in the shadows never offered about themselves...the truth. There was a simple realization that occurred in those few moments, Jack would need help to get into the card games that had higher stakes. Those people would not necessarily be as friendly as those in the Palace, and he would need to defend himself. Winnings, if he was going to win, meant nothing to a dead man.
Jack looked around and though his voice probably could be heard by those interested; the establishment knew well enough not to screw around with Hawke or Alina for that matter. Jack wondered if this was going to be another frivolous goose-chase. He grabbed the laundry and proceeded to accomplish at least one good deed for the day.

"I'll be back for that answer in just a second, I have laundry to deliver," Jack flashed Hawke a winning smile while entering into daydream fantasies about the Vashon Island Tournament.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:41:11; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

It was getting colder as time passed, the wind still trying to steal every degree of body heat she had. She didn't know how long it would take John to get back to his taxi service center, but she had a pit stop of her own to make. It wasn't too terrible going the speed limit, it actually helped ease her mind though focusing was still a nuisance. While the I-5 would have taken her all the way up to just about where she would need to be, she veered off onto 20th street in Fife, taking that, Milton way and highway 161 up to her apartment. She needed something warmer, and to stock her backpack a little better.

She pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex after keying in her passcode at the gate. It wasn't huge on the security but it kept out undesirables and the like. The maglocks on the doors were still functional, too, which was a plus. Milton had seen better days, especially being so close to the Puyallup barrens, still, this was home to her for now.

The stairs were still a bit slippery from when her neighbors had thrown a pre-finals party. Maintenance had a lovely time hosing down the aftermath. After she got her cardio in for the day running up four flights of stairs, she punched in the final code to get into her apartment and reveled at the slightly less chilly interior of her personal paradise. She first grabbed the only jacket she owned from her closet, then took an inventory of what she might need. She had her Elan in her backpack along with her flashlight, not much else. Her first thought was to snatch the extra clip of stick n' shock ammo she had underneath her bed. Her smart ammo pouch to put it in, and she stole the concealable holster she kept with her party dress designed for her Elan. It was designed to be strapped to her leg, but it also had velco adjustment, so it was just a matter of fiddling with it around her arm. It was an odd fit, and she wouldn't be getting to it in any sort of quick fashion, but it was fine as far as her budget was concerned. Once she had her Elan set, taking the time to make sure the safety was on, it was all about figuring what an amateur investigator would need.

Hmm... Ammo, weapon, holster. What else, what else...

She honestly didn't expect there to be much in the way of problems on this little reconnoiter, but it helped to be sure. She didn't want to take anything illegal if she didn't have to. Her Savalette would be staying in its little hidey hole for now. Confident with her choices, she made sure to lock the door behind her, keeping an eye out if anyone was nearby out of habits sake. Time to make a long journey up to Everett. She'd continue taking the I-5 up and since she had her bike, navigating traffic would help cut the overall time. She took a moment to look up directions to Bond and Wall street while having the public access available to her wireless. Once she had a route planned, she set up a screen in her AR before she was ready to take off.

[JxJxA]

@ E:PL
[May 19th, 2072, 08:05:45; Aire-en-Provence Airfield]
[Erika Elite, ID "Maximilien Danton"]

Gemeaux's expression twists into a disappointed pout, frowning at the thought of having to babysit not just one but two people.

"Is there not a stewardess on the plane? They are used to dealing with infants, at least more so than me." He ducks his head into the passenger cabin, looking to see if there is a flight attendant crew onboard.

"As for safeties, my sidearm responds only to my touch until I am inclined to let another use it. That is highly unlikely, and I am not one for killing children---no matter how insufferable they might be. A man must have standards, even in this sorry day and age.

"That being said," he says, changing topics, "I suspect it best for you to get some rest. Then, I need you to explain in more detail what you need me to do. I am in my best element when unseen by and far away from my quarry. Playing bodyguard requires a certain level of...visibility, shall we say."

And invites an uncomfortable amount of vulnerability on my part. I am an assassin, after all. Not some thick-skinned brute accustomed to absorbing bullets or punches. However, he leaves that particular thought unsaid.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@ E:PL
[May 19th, 2072, 08:05:45; Aire-en-Provence Airfield]

Grinning inwardly at the hitman's obvious discomfort, it was a relief after all to see that young infants had the same terrorizing effect on a man who, as rumor had it, regularly assassinated in cold blood, Anselm shook his head, "Unfortunately no, I was not expecting live transport either and my associates mentioned it only in passing as the time came to pick up the package... However, I will let you know everything when the time is right; even though we are on a fairly secure plane who's motives are beyond questioning... certain precautions ensure that what you do not know can't be beaten out of you oui? One other thing to note," and Anselm dropped his voice beyond a whisper at this point, "See to it that you are careful with your electronic devices, the father is one of those whom they call technomancers..."

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:52:13; Touristville, Combat Cab parking lot]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor

Now, in the somewhat safe and familiar surroundings, Adrian can't help but walk once around his damaged cab and survey the damage done to its front.
And that just from what fit into that woman's head? And it had detonated inside...

He shudders, gets his black jacket from the cab's trunk and heads over to his bike.

Ignoring a message from his boss', he hits the road, heading back north. Not quite as good as flying...

[JxJxA]

@ E:PL
[May 19th, 2072, 08:05:45; Aire-en-Provence Airfield]
[Erika Elite, ID "Maximilien Danton"]

<<[Gemeaux]: Vivienne, my lovely, I need you to make sure that you turn off my sidearm's smartgun system and shut down immediately if you feel someone tampering with you.>>

<<[Vivienne]: Of course, Damien. Should I be worried?>>

<<[Gemeaux]: There is a technomancer in our midst, and I have yet to meet and measure the man. Be certain, though, that if he lays a digital finger on you, I will flay the man alive. You have my word.>>

<<[Vivienne]: Don't worry, Damien. I believe in you.>>

Those last words from the personality program cut across the unhealed wound that was Vivienne's death. Those were her last words before she was killed by Shiawase's bounty hunters. He considers reprogramming the personality to never say those words again, but then decides against it. The program represents his memories of her, and editing away its spontaneity and free will would be criminal as spitting on a Monet.

"I will make the proper precautions," he says to Anselm. "Though, I do need to know more of what is going on. I am fairly decent at keeping a secret, and I do not cross those who have yet to cross me. A friend once gave me this piece of advice: 'When dealing in the Shadows, be square or beware.' The advice is especially true for those in my profession."

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:22:30; Wall Street & Bond]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

This may have been one of her worst decisions-- ever. I-5 had been a risky choice anyway, at was a primary thoroughfare, but it really got bad when you hit downtown. You're only as good as the driver in front of you, and considering she had a difficult enough time seeing that, it was inevitable that she over-corrected when there was a rapid deceleration and she had to pull onto the shoulder to get past. That decision had cost her a year of her life, when a merging drone semi had barreled up the on-ramp, blissfully unaware that such a maneuver was feasible. Scared half to death after the ordeal, Saint decided that caution was the better part of existence, no doubt that accident would be funneling KE into the area. No more weaving through traffic for her. Still, after she'd gotten off I-5 onto Broadway, she made a decent cut in her approximate arrival time.

Pulling into a parking space at her destination, she took a good look at her surroundings. The place seemed seedier than her neck of the woods by a long shot. Docks always had a tendency to draw the shifty sort of people, and no doubt there were more than a few reasons Jessica might have come here for. Drugs, a story, maybe seeing a pimp for some "off-the-clock" work, oddly enough there was a hospital she had passed just a second ago as well. Too many questions, again.

She pulled a new window up, putting John's commcode to good use.

<<@John: Hey, just got to the location. Don't know if you beat me here or not, just wanted to grab some goodies from home first. What's your sitch? [Saint]>>

Took her a minute until she could finally hit send. This damned eye was starting the bug the ever-livin' drek out of her. Maybe it was a good thing that there was a hospital nearby, she could take a few minutes and get her cyber eyes re-calibrated and restored. In an ideal world.

[Aria]

Balefire / Silk
[May 08th, 2072; Matrix Node: SEAѤ67-∑2: The Citadel]

Her Sunday lunch shift was over and she’d run back through the rain and settled into the thread bare sofa to finally bow to Bale’s wishes and begin the painful process of patching Balefire back together again. She settled the skin contact from the portal on her Avalon and felt the prickle of current as the ‘link connected, syncing her mind with the beautiful perils of the ‘trix…

Her stomach did a graceful flop as the fighter broke away from the dock and lunged down towards the whirling gas clouds of the planet below her. Flicking her hands over the AR controls she turned her swallow dive into a beautiful sweep that took her across the orbital ring of Fleet Pandora, marvelling again at the feeling of reality in this breath-taking simulation. She input the coordinates that Aria had given her and couldn’t help smiling at her whimsical friend’s choice of meeting location – you didn’t get much more obscured than inside the vapour clouds of a gas giant in a fictional universe. Although she didn’t know who the servers belonged to, the sheer volume of traffic through this popular gaming node should mask their presence, and Aria wouldn’t have picked it for a private conversation if she was concerned about its security.

The magenta and gold clouds gave way to swirling azures and then she gasped involuntarily as the maw of a spacecraft opened before her, dwarfing the small craft that propelled her inexorably into its grasp. Over the internal speakers she heard a familiar chuckle…

“Thank you Aria, you’ve spooked me again…I would love to play but I’ve got things I need to discuss with you…”

Considerably more sober she heard the reply in her mind

“I’m sorry, I love this place and sometimes can’t help myself…it’s always so unexpected! I’ll transfer you to somewhere that we can talk…”

and Silk’s icon in the game world de-rezzed into a flare of pixels and coalesced in an exotic garden dome at the top of the craft with a stunning view of the gaseous environs, and dimly the stars beyond, held at bay by some sort of energy field. Aria had made no concessions to the metaphor of the game world and her icon appeared here as the usual little girl with impish smile. Silk stood tall over her in the armoured flight suit but was under no illusions as to who was in control of this situation…something that suited her perfectly!

“Greg Scott has been to see me…he’s taken his brother’s handle…”

“So Bale is reborn? Interesting…”

“Not only that, he wants to restart Balefire…and I’ve agreed…there’s a slim chance that it will flush out whoever was responsible…whoever hired those bloody mercs…”

“And you need my help? I’m not a runner any more sweetie, I’ve got other commitments…”

“I know that, but I need your help to find your replacement on the team. We’ve got the other bases covered.”

“Well I’m sure I can come up with someone…” there’s a pause as Aria looked off into the distance, no doubt accessing her database of those who owe favours, people that can be trusted, and those that can’t…

“There is a name that has come up favourably recently…one Fractal…he has done some work for the Freedom hacker tribe and Prospero speaks highly of his competence. Perhaps if you contact him? If that doesn’t work out then I have other names.”

“Thank you! I’m sorry I can’t stay and play, perhaps when we’ve established this thing and worked out any kinks…then there’s just the small matter of finding work. But somewhere as busy as Seattle there’s always something going on.”

She kissed her hand and touched it to Aria’s cheek… “see you soon”

Her icon rematerialized in the great hall of the Citadel, directly under the spinning orrery. Ignoring the dazzling iconography she fired off a message to the drop box that Aria had supplied for Fractal

<<@Fractal: My name is Silk. I have a long term proposal for you, we are forming a team for a series of sporting events and your name has been suggested as someone who might be interested in joining us. Contact me at this number if you are interested and I’ll give you the location for our first meet in a couple of days time. S>>

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 18th, 2072, 00:23:54; Everett, Bond St]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor

Having taken a slight detour, Adrian nears his destination from the north, keeping an eye open for a nice spot to park his bike.

Yup, still the dump it was about an hour ago.

Parking about 200 metres short of the interssection with Wall St, Adrian slowly walks south, eyes peeled, scanning his surroundings.

Stepping into a doorway so he won't be in the way of other pedestrians, Adrian takes a good look at the astral version of the street.
Not a nice neighbourhood, no matter which set of eyes you look at it with.

Wonder where Saint.... Murmuring, spotting her on the other side of the street and receiving her message all happen within split seconds of each other.

<<@John: Hey, just got to the location. Don't know if you beat me here or not, just wanted to grab some goodies from home first. What's your sitch? [Saint]>>

<<from:John to:Saint>
I'm just across from you, by that pink scooter. Not mine btw. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/wink.gif) >

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:23:59; Wall Street & Bond]
PAN=Passive, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

She chuckled, he was a goofball, this was good as it also meant he'd had time to forget earlier events. She needed something to offset her jaded world view right now, as they had squat to work with. She briskly walked over onto the sidewalk, making sure her keys were in her pocket as she sidled up next to him against the building, taking her helmet off in the process.

"Heya stranger, this lady sure knew how to pick 'em. I saw a hospital campus not a minute back the way I came, though I somehow doubt it, she might've had a visit, and the registry would log that kind of data. Otherwise, I have a feeling snooping around the docks might offer some leads if we don't get too conspicuous. What're you up for, detective?"

She was unusually placid, taking their brief encounter before in mind. She lit up a cigarette while she waited for him to decide. Her head definitely felt a lot clearer, even with the cybernetic ramifications of the accident still apparent. It was good to be focusing on a new lead. It felt like a fresh start.

[Aria]

@ E:PL
[May 19th, 2072, 09:32:33; En-route to UK]

The plane ride has so far proved to be uneventful. Your packages have isolated themselves in the forward cabin, the father whispering soothing non-words to his excitable son who insists on pointing at the lights and the clouds flowing past outside the windows. The father himself is an unassuming individual, certainly not the demon that the media would have you believe these technomancers are. He looks more like a tired middle manager type with the weight of the world on his shoulders – perhaps no surprising if he is being hunted as your mysterious fixer would have you believe.

The captain’s voice is routed directly to your commlinks rather than come across the internal comm

<<We’ll be landing at Farnborough in the next 25 minutes. I am assured that customs understands the nature of our visit and that we won’t be detained by unnecessary protocols. The usual checks have been waived and a car will be available to take you from the airport to Our Lady’s church in the town. After that I understand you will make your own arrangements.>>

So, the wheels have been greased, so to speak, and the usual bureaucratic nightmare involved in getting into the UK has somehow been removed. Mr Hill in particular will be glad that the ritual sample normally required of mages entering the country seems to be bypassed. It’s almost as if someone up there has granted you diplomatic status…just as well considering you are harbouring a technomancer with dubious legal status…

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 18th, 2072, 00:25:04; Everett, Bond St]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor

What're you up for, detective?

After that question Adrian furrows his brows for a moment, hmms and says with a mock serious tone
Well, based on my years of experience as undercover agent, He makes a brief pause for a smile I'd say let's snoop away. People still around now might leave any moment; I doubt the hospital logs - whether there is anything interesting in them or not - will.

Although it would be interesting to see how she'd go about getting at those logs. Shouldn't they be protected? Patient doctor confidentiality and such.

Pointing at a cheap snack bar close by, he continues Guess that's as good a start as anywhere. You don't happen to have an image of her...before the explosion?

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:25:32; Wall Street & Bond]
PAN=Passive, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

Saint looked at him as if he were testing her abilities. She thought about it a moment, taking another puff from her cigarette.

"I guess I could isolate an image from my eye recorder, shouldn't be too hard to do."

She speedily went to work, opening up a window subset of her edit program on the moments before Jessica's head exploded. It pleased her to no end that didn't have to go any further into the video. Within a couple of minutes, she had an image file she had doctored for better clarity and easy identification.

"Open up your AR and tell me what you think, I'll send you a copy for your personal use."