Living in the Shadows: IC, Jan 15th-21st Options

[WinterRat1]

World IC Thread.

This is the IC thread for the Living in the Shadows Campaign, for the period of Jan. 15th-21st. Once your character begins Jan. 15th, you should begin posting here. The OOC thread will still be used as normal. This first post will consistently be edited to include all current IC sub-games. Think of it as a table of contents. All remaining posts after the first should be considered to be World IC posts.

Additionally, here are the links for the OOC, Shadowland IC, and the Guidelines thread, which has the character creation requirements, as well as various GM rulings on numerous topics.

General LITS Information

Living in the Shadows: Guidelines
Living in the Shadows: Recruitment 1 (closed; see LITS: Recruitment 2)
Living in the Shadows: Recruitment 2
Living in the Shadows: Special Projects

Main LITS Threads

Living in the Shadows: SR 3 OOC
Living in the Shadows: SR 4 OOC
Living in the Shadows: IC Jan 1st - Jan 7th
Living in the Shadows: IC Jan 8th - Jan 14th
Living in the Shadows: Shadowland OOC
Living in the Shadows: Shadowland IC

Useful LITS-related Links

Living in the Shadows: Story Index Page
Useful Calendar Link for 2063
Seattle Sprawl Map

LITS Run Index

Living in the Shadows: The Warehouse Job OOC 1 (closed)
Living in the Shadows: The Warehouse Job IC 1 (closed)
Living in the Shadows: Running Over the Edge OOC 2 (closed)
Living in the Shadows: Running Over the Edge IC 2 (closed)
Living in the Shadows: Salvation OOC 3
Living in the Shadows: Salvation IC 3
Living in the Shadows: A Short Victorious War OOC 4
Living in the Shadows: A Short Victorious War IC 4

00:00:00 (Specific Day) January 1, 2063
Let's start each post with a date and Location. Please post it in Orange.
I will see how things are moving along and sychronize the dates periodically.

Please put names in BOLD, a character's thoughts/internal dialogue as well as anything being emphasized in ITALICS, and spoken words in QUOTES. Oh, and don't forget to turn off signatures for all IC posts please. Thanks! :)

[bclements]

00:58:10 Monday, 15 January 2063 - outside 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma

Just like in Sung’s. Sway, sway, watch the pothole, sway Tony thought as he rounded the corner, trying to get down to as close as he could to ‘time’ as was possible while weaving and lurching his way down an empty sidewalk. He’d waited a good twenty minutes in his warm car after arriving, now a few blocks away and hopefully not jacked yet. Longcoat out, MP5 strapped muzzle down close to his leg opposite his katana, he was trying for the drunkard staggering means of approach. It kept things decently concealed even with a heavy jacket burdened with…things, but the fast-slow swaying-staggering gait would hopefully keep everyone off guard.

If there even are guards, noting that he was about halfway down the block from the alley that led to the fire exit that Xayide was hopefully monitoring over. Next thing, just keep going, next thing, tip that way around that hole. He’d not seen a human presence on the street since he’d gotten out of his car, and with the wind whipping around his open coat and depressing, faint-streetlight shrouded scenery, he was really hoping that Xayide had the door open when he got there.

Hole there, tip toward and away from it, keep going, cross over in the dark spot up about 20 feet

[grendel]

00:59:27 Monday, 15 January 2063 - outside 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma

Tony brushes up against the wall of the building, barely a meter away from the door. Lifting his head in an exaggerated motion, almost upsetting his balance in the process, he curses under his breath. The door is still closed.

"Relax," whispers a disembodied voice from close at hand. Xayide pushes the panel of the door open, using Tony's momentary hesitation to plaster a thin strip of plastic across the deadbolt and door latch. The swiftness of her motion causes the LCD fabric of her chameleon suit to blur in a series of symmetrical ripples. The distortion is enough to reveal the outline of the slim operator to Tony's eyes before the adaptive optics in the photomorphic fabric recover and adjust back to near-perfect invisibility.

The hallway revealed by the open door is dimly lit by overhead glow strips, tiled in a neutral gray with the walls painted a darker sandstone color. The hallway leads into the building for approximately fifteen meters before ending in a T. Several doors lead off of it, both on the left and the right, but no one is in sight at the moment.

"After you," offers Xayide.

[bclements]

01:00:35 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma


One day, drek like that is going to get you shot Tony thought, almost rolling his eyes while adjusting the strap on the MP5 to pull it up to firing position and gently pulling out the retractable stock with a plastimetallic *click* and fitting it to his shoulder. The supressor had been a bitch to keep under his longcoat, but now, with a fully extended stock, it made the normally front heavy submachinegun a reassuring piece of iron to take along.

Taking a second to stretch from the hunched over pose he'd had for the last block and a half, he peered out from the doorway down the institutional-looking hallway, Tony didn’t see any cameras or any real security fittings in the hallway. Odd he thought. The clean hallway was incongruous with the graffiti-stained exterior, and the dim lighting raised small hairs on the back of his neck. Lockdown for a few days, maybe? Obscure holiday I don’t know about? This place is fraggin’ creepy he thought, sighting in the subgun on the far end of the right side of the hallway.

Motioning Xayide to follow, Tony continued down the right side of the hallway, keeping the subgun at a point about normal human head height and aimed a point just past the corner of the hallway. Right at the T, then down that hall he thought, keeping both eyes open and moving down the hallway silently, but quickly. He didn't want to spend any more time than necessary in this place.

[grendel]

01:00:38 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma

Tony moves smoothly down the hallway, not quickly but not slowly, but with the steady pace his body naturally fell into after years of CQB training. His weapon was snugged into his shoulder, stock welded to his cheek, muzzle tracking where he looked. He could feel Xayide behind him, a presence at his back that he hoped was just as professional as she'd been to this point. He hadn't asked about her weapons or combat experience earlier, planning on a quick-in/quick-out that would see a minimum of gunplay. Coming to the T in the hallway, he checked left and right, missing the rest of the train that would have covered him as he snapped to the right. Xayide squeezed his shoulder, a message so familiar that he instinctively moved, pivoting on his right foot and moving forward down the right hand passage.

The uniform gray tile construction continued, but ended after only five meters in a closed unmarked door. A simple maglock glows red on the right hand side of the door. Tony halted, reaching back with his off-hand to tap Xayide on her shoulder, before sidestepping left. To his relief, the slim operator slipped past him on the right, her own Ingram Smartgun held ready. Tony pivoted to his left, covering their rear as she went to work, the assault sling snugging her submachinegun to her chest in easy reach while she flipped open a tool kit and attacked the maglock. Eighteen seconds later she backed from the door, reaching back to squeeze Tony's thigh. Pivoting back around to his right, Tony faced the door. He pointed to himself, then chopped his hand forward and left, then pointed to Xayide, gesturing forward and right. She nodded, lifting her weapon to her shoulder. He gave a three count, pulling down fingers on his left hand before slamming the door open with his boot.

The two operators rolled into the room, clearing the fatal funnel and moving to their positions of dominance in the room. It was larger than Tony expected, a full operating theater with a central table flanked by long supply trestles. Glass hermetic storage containers line the walls, half of them empty. The other half contain spidery metallic constructs, thin draperies of fiberoptics and surgical steel. Reinforced plastic cabinets overflow with medical supplies; gauze, bandages, sterile clamps, and drugs. What Tony is not prepared for are the two bodies resting in chairs against the far walls. Dressed in surgical gowns, the two human males could have been merely asleep if they weren't missing everything above their jawline, sliced neatly off as if by a laser.

"Clear," says Xayide in her peculiar flat monotone, breaking into Tony's thoughts.

[bclements]

01:01:04 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma

Yeah, unless you count the hessians there, Tony thought, downturning his grip on the MP5 and looking at the vivisectioned men before him. People dead weren’t an anomaly to him, but sliced off heads were. Too fresh to be from Radian was his next thought after cursory examination; these guys hadn’t been dead that long. How long? While we were watching? How fragging paranoid should I be?
He didn’t dare touch them for fear of some type of trap or from looking unprofessional, but did notice the enclosures of…things…that looked to be cyberware. He was expecting more obvious ‘ware, like arms or legs or something that looked like a bodypart. Not like the does that stuff really go that far inside?!? stuff that he was looking at though a thick glass enclosure. I’m getting in over my head. What is this shit supposed to be?

You took the job, chummer. And hired a competent looking person to help you. Enough dreaming, get back to the task at hand he thought, pulling out the datapad and dotting a finger on the room he and Xayide were in. “Clear, and marked. Next room,� Tony said, readjusting the subgun and pointing back toward the door and down the hall, taking the point and putting the dead men out of his mind for the moment.

[grendel]

01:01:04 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma

Tony and Xayide move down the hallway, clearing four additional rooms. One appears to be some kind of recovery room, with a pair of cheap extruded plastic cots and a couple of chairs. The second could be a meeting room, although it's unlike any conference room Tony's ever been in. Seven chairs circle a small central podium, which is mounted with what appears to be oversized datacable interfaces. Next was a storage room for more conventional items, industrial gray shelving lining all of the walls. Whoever used the room, though, cleaned it out in a hurry. Debris litters the floor and one of the shelving units was pulled down in the process, left bent and broken on its side. The last room is a kind of waiting room, the walls decorated in faux wood and paper fusama panels, a small desk with a data display terminal on it, and four chairs. It, too, is deserted.

[bclements]

01:01:45 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma


“Clear,� Tony said for the fourth time in as many rooms, letting the MP5 down to the floor; the harness taking over the weight as he let out another held breath. He was uneasy after the operating room; noticing the accumliated dust in the closet, and the lack thereof behind the overturned shelving, he didn’t think that whoever had been here had been gone more than a couple of days. Right under our noses he thought, stopping from trying to spin for the Johnson.

Creepy didn’t begin to describe the feeling from the building; the empty hallways, the dead men in the OR, the general feel of the place. Xayide didn’t help, fading out in her chameleon jumpsuit between rooms; Tony could feel her, and knew she was there, but invisible teammates weren’t exactly reassuring. She was good at her job though, and Tony had the heavy firepower and had done this enough not to let it show; he didn’t blame her, but wasn’t exactly looking forward to every room either.

“Think you can load this in that terminal?� Tony said, producing the OMC that the Johnson had given him from his breast pocket.

[grendel]

01:03:16 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma

A blurred arm takes the OMC from Tony's hand, and although he can't see her face, he gets the distinct impression that she's more than a little confused at the simple request. Her uncertainty does not preclude action, though, and after waiting for the terminal to complete its power up, she slots the chip into the reader on the side of the flatscreen and taps in a rapid series of keystrokes.

"It's uploading an executable," she comments in her flat monotone.

[bclements]

01:04:10 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma

An executable? Tony thought. “What do you mean an executable? Like a program?� he said to Xayide, with just a trace of concern in his voice.

He didn’t say anything about running a program on there, he just wanted information uploaded, Tony thought: his knowledge of computers and software basically added up to how to put contacts in his psec and browsing the 'Trix, and unfamiliar, long-forgotten-from-school-class terms didn’t jibe with his expectations of what the Johnson had said would be ‘information’.

[grendel]

01:04:44 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma

"Yes, a self-extracting, self-executing program. Probably an agent. I gather from your question that this was unexpected."

Xayide steps back from the terminal during her explanation, her weapon coming up into low-ready. Tony is fairly certain that her response is similar to his own, a general increase in readiness triggered by the increased probability that something was about to go wrong. He hoped it wasn't the kind of paranoid response he'd seen on previous runs where any hiccup in the plan was accompanied by immediate paranoia among teammates, to the point where gunfire was often the result. The computer terminal zeeps before emitting a grinding noise followed by a halo of smoke.

"Huh." Xayide lets her SMG drop back on its assault sling. "The system transmitted a single message before erasing the drive and killing the BIOS. I hope you didn't need to recover any information from this system because it's well and truly fragged now."

[bclements]

01:06:01 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma

“No, I wasn’t expecting that. Not what I was told� Tony said softly in answer to the first question, flicking up his MP5 into ready at about the same time as Xayide. He was going to ask if she’d tripped the program agent? Some type of program apparently, but from what he gleaned from her explanation it had just started up on the copy process.

Not anything to be done about it now, he thought, and anyway he’d been impressed with Xayide’s professionalism so far, even if he couldn’t see her most of the time. More composed than me he half-admitted to himself.

When the terminal melted down, Tony’s first instinct was to flick the safety off his subgun, but Xayide’s reaction stopped him. “Need? No, but I wouldn’t have minded knowing what did that. No matter now. Let’s blow that room back there up and get out of here. this place is giving me the creeps,� Tony drawled, readying his MP5, and grabbing for the OMC in the terminal before heading down to the room that held the cyberware.

[grendel]

01:09:17 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma

Nothing has changed in the ten minutes since Tony and Xayide first stepped foot into the room, a fact that Tony is grateful for since it means no more surprises. All that's left to do is set the demo charges and he can be done. Done with this creepy building and its half-headless corpses, done with a nearly invisible teammate who worried him about as often as she reassured him, and done with Johnsons who lied about the particulars of a job.

Yeah, right, like you're ever going to be rid of those, sneered the voice inside his head.

[bclements]

01:09:25 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma


“Ok, I’d stand back if I were you,� Tony said out loud, letting the sling hold the MP5 across his body while he fished out one of each of the grenades. Not knowing where Xayide happened to be at the moment, and not even feeling her presence, it felt weird talking to open air like that.

You mean, weird like seen a couple guys with their cranium sliced off in an otherwise empty building?

Weird like seeing an OMC that’s not supposed to have much on it zap a terminal to slag?

Yeah, weird like that

Tony saw the two half-headless men, still sitting in their chairs, as he moved back into the room a few feet. Popping the arming pins, he tossed one, then the other grenade toward the glass tanks holding the ‘ware he was supposed to blow up. For half a second, he saw the metallic tendrils of the devices, tapering from their already thin mass down to the molecular level. His mind flashed to an image of some robotic animation in a horror cartoon he’d seen when he was a kid, the kind of bad-science-experiment thing that hunted college students down for wronging it in some way…

The grenades bounced once, an obscenely loud sound in the tomblike silence of the OR and continued tinkling across the floor, reminding him that this wasn’t a place to wax about old horror flicks. He strode out the door, and started trotting down the hall to the exit as the grenades rolled toward the tanks.

[grendel]

01:09:28 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma

Tony reaches Xayide at the exit door just as the pair of explosives detonate, dull thunder echoing down the corridor along with the dry powdered smell of crushed ceramic and construction plastic. She nods, pushing the door open with her shoulder and sweeping the alleyway to the right. Tony plunges after her into the cold January night, his own SMG clearing to the left. Xayide pulls the tape away from the door, following Tony into the shadows.

[bclements]

01:10:01 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma

Nothing. Surprising Tony thought as he swept the street over the iron sights of the MP5. He’d half expected to see a group of shedim shambling toward them, given the strangeness, or at least some type of response team waiting for them. That transmission that Xayide had said was sent out didn’t make him want to linger for long around this place. Anyway, the wind outside was slicing though his open longcoat.

“Job’s done, near as I can see it,� Tony drawled, producing a credstick from his pocket; the same one that the Johnson had given him. “Thanks, good working with you,� he added, holding out the stick in the palm of his hand. Of course, it would help if I could actually, you know, see who I’m handing this off to..

[grendel]

01:10:27 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma

"So it would seem."

Xayide draws back the cowl of her chameleon suit, disengaging the multiple image scanners and the integral LCD fibers. Shrugging her shoulders, she slides effortlessly from the voluminous garment, folding it quickly into a package which disappears into a duffle bag, along with her MP5 and web gear. A minute later and she's changed into her slate gray longcoat, appearing much the same as when she and Tony met at Babylon. She clears the alleyway and streets once more before turning the unsettling gaze from her cybereyes to Tony.

"I would say it's been good working with you, but then I never did enjoy this kind of stuff. It has, however, been profitable. If you need someone in the future, you've got my number."

A brief smile flickers across her face before she turns and walks away.

"See you around, Hillbilly."

[bclements]

01:10:49 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma

“Same to ya,� Tony breathed as he watched her walk away, still not sure if Xayide was joking or not in the use of his working name. Shit, she could be in my apartment if she keeps wearing that drek. I’ve got to do something about that, he thought, reslinging his MP5, tucking it back behind him, and pressing his coat closed.. Yeah, I don’t like this kind of stuff either, but it pays the bills. Well, hopefully pays the bills, we’ll see about that, he thought on the way back, striding briskly away from the building toward his car without doing the drunken man impression that he’d done on the way in. The stiff wind blew from his back now, and Tony looked into it enough checking his tail, Nobody out, no cars coming, no drones flying, clean as I can ask for he thought, firing up his icy cold Americar after depositing his gear in his duffel bag.

He didn’t dial the Johnson until he was a couple of kilometers away from the spooky building, partly due to winding down his nerves and partly due to wanting the heater in the car to warm up. Thumbing his psec to the number he’d programmed in for this Johnson, he selected it to dial. The LTG rang once, then beeped.

Well, I didn’t expect much different Tony thought. “Services have been performed as requested. Please contact this LTG,� Tony rattled off his number, “for billing at your earliest convenience,� he said cordially, ending the call. “Bastard,� he said aloud, tossing his psec into the cold cloth of the passenger seat. Cruising down the backstreets towards his doss, streets still holding on to the crusts of ice from the blizzard last week, the overcast night sky a slate-tinted-to-slathered with pink from streetlights on the roads and still-lit shopping districts that pretty much ruined any chance of seeing a star even on the few clear nights.

Lot less light back home, he said, driving down whatever street his autonav had said to turn down after he’d programmed it to not take the 5 back to his spare doss.

Lot less friendly there too. You can’t go back there. One job done though. One ex-girlfriend in some godforsaken prison down in Calfree. One who-knows-what-she-is up here, he thought, almost reaching for the phone to call Reign up. NO he thought. He was already tired from the early hours and the adrenaline comedown, and would have to be up a few more hours watching newsfeeds and the ‘Trix to make sure he didn’t get a bullet to the head as a wake-up call. He also wasn’t in the mood to mix it up verbally or physically with her. Also, despite her prostrations, headless corpses didn’t exactly make good dinner conversation. He brought his hand back from where it had been reaching for the psec, and placed it firmly on the wheel.

02:18:91 Monday, 15 January 2063 4054 East Gate Dr. Apt 4b, Bellevue, Seattle UCAS

Last turn he thought, following his psec’s directions. The neon lit street was littered with carts, and Tony had a loud exchange with a noodle cart vendor about a parking spot, the vendor only moving when Tony bought a couple of plastic bowls to get the cart out of his parking spot. The casino down the block did a brisk business at night, he remembered. Paying for a his two ramen bowls, he unlocked the real-key burgler gate to the apartment building, and went up.

Almost as comfortable as the bed Tony thought, stretching out on the futon that sat opposite the smallish Fuchi telecom that he had tuned to KASF. A mostly full whisky and a couple of empty soybeer bottles nestled on the end of the plastic coffee table. Nothing had come across, either on the newsfeeds, Shadowland, or the broadcasts about Bellevue even in general. Well, we did get out clean he thought, wishing for eight full hours asleep before anyone waked him.

[grendel]

07:16:23 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Wallingford Pizza House, 106 Fairview Ave SW, Auburn, Seattle, UCAS

Despite the fact that the restaurant was inland from the Sound, sheltered by blocks and blocks of gray industrial buildings and glass walled high-rises, the wind is still bitterly cold. Ludi hunched her shoulders inside the heavy work coat she wore, trudging through last week's left over snow with a tool box in each hand. The sky was still dark with clouds, the morning sunshine a wan glow filling the eastern horizon and fighting with the all-night illumination from the street lights. Up ahead she could see the fenced off area surrounding the restaurant, a single gate open to allow the on-coming shift access to the site.

A heavy set ork wearing stained canvas coveralls and a white hard hat is checking IDs of the workers coming and, and holds up a hand when Ludi tries to enter. Before she can launch into an explanation of why she's here, an older looking human shouts to the guard, motioning with his arm. The ork grunts and waves her inside.

"Hey, I've been expecting you," hisses the Foreman, the one who got her past the guard. He pulls her aside, into one of the rooms just off the main entrance of the restaurant. Dust and dirt is everywhere, the inevitable cast off from any kind of renovation. The air is cold and smells like new plastic and epoxy. It makes the back of Ludi's throat itch.

"I know you're here for a special job, but everyone else is just going to think you're a replacement electrician. Just do what you need to do and get gone, scan?" The Foreman isn't hostile, just nervous about letting someone into his worksite. If something goes wrong, it's his hoop on the line.

[Mister Juan]

07:19:55 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Wallingford Pizza House, 106 Fairview Ave SW, Auburn, Seattle, UCAS

Lifting her head ever so slightly, Ludmilla stared at the foreman from under her baseball cap with icy cyber eyes. She wasn't quite sure how much the man knew, and how likely he would be to snap under pressure if things came down to it. But then again, if all went well, she'd be out in a less than a few hours.

The Russian woman simply nodded that she understood. She had no real idea who it was that owned this establishment, but odds were that her thick Russian accent would stand out like a sore thumb the second she'd open her mouth. And so, all she did was that; nod and swallow down whatever it was she had intended to say.

Not far from where she was standing, workers were already going in and out of the restaurant, carrying both tools and construction materials. From what she had understood, the place was going through some sort of “renovations� as well as updating their fire suppression system and handicap access. Head low, shoulders slightly slumped, Ludmilla entered the establishment. The baseball cap tucked low on her head, partly to obscure her features... and the fact her eyes were mostly bloodshot (from the very short and rather restless night), she sighed in relief as she noted a small rickety table with a coffee maker and some Styrofoam cup not too far. She had expected people to ask questions; to look at her, to scrutinize her, to go through her tool boxes. But it seemed that for once, her own cautiousness had taken her imagination a little too far. Truth was that no one cared at all. No one paid the slightest attention to her. Everyone had a very precise job to do, and couldn't be bothered with some random chick showing up to do God only knew what.

Everywhere, the banging of hammers and buzzing of saws echoed, as a the smell of wood chipping and plaster flowed about. Some big ork in a green coveralls and a hardhat gave her brief nod, blurting a simple “morning� as she came next to him to pour herself some coffee. Ludmilla simply returned the greeting with a faint smile, immediately focusing all of her attention back on the small cup she was cradling in her hands. This wasn't her first time posing as someone else. It wasn't even her first time going “behind the lines�. Odds were, it wouldn't be her last. But as always, she felt nervous. Anxious. Apprehensive. Every second, she had to remind herself that this was just some work site. Those people were just simple and very common construction workers. No one could read her thoughts. No one could know that the miscellaneous pieces of electronic she carried in her tool boxes were in fact pretty darn sophisticated custom made bugs.

Using a few bobby pins, Ludmilla had pulled all of her short black hair back, and tucked it neatly under her cap, which she was now trading off with a hardhat that sat, with many others, on the table next to the coffee machine. As she pretended to fix up her tool belt, her trained eyes went around the room a few time, the blueprints she had memorized days before overlaying themselves on the actual sight.

At least, Sascha had come through with something useful. What he had given him was accurate. Everything was where it was meant to be... which meant she could go about doing her job the exact way she had planned on doing so. In total, she had six devices to plant: five bugs, and one repeater. Pretty much everything had already been assembled, with the major components of each bug being simply plug and play.

Setting her toolbox against one of the far wall of the room, Ludmilla shrug off her coat, and adjusted the still empty tool belt she had on. The blue coveralls she had gotten a hold of in a thrift store, along with a pair of non conductive gloves and working boots completed her “disguise� to perfection. Ludmilla knew very that, if she had ever wanted to, she could have actually done the real honest work she was pretending to do today. But working permits were a little difficult to come by for the SINless mass. Unzipping the front of her overall, she slipped a small black pouch she had been carrying, throwing a careful look over her shoulder before tucking it inside one of the tool box. Out came different tools, slipping easily in one of her many pockets, or finding a little nook to clip themselves on her belt.

As she pretended to fiddle with something no one else could see, she clicked in place the remaining components of each bugs, stuff the finished product either in her sleeves or in little pockets she had sown inside her suit.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up and went to work.

[grendel]

11:06:40 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Wallingford Pizza House, 106 Fairview Ave SW, Auburn, Seattle, UCAS

Despite the relative freedom with which she worked, it still took Ludi the better part of four hours to complete the installation. True she was able to move amongst the rooms of the restaurant with complete freedom, but to accurately install and conceal her surveillance devices still took time. Additionally, she preferred to work without people looking over her shoulder, just on the off chance that someone might recognize the non-standard nature of the electronics she was installing. Always better to be safe than sorry. Plus, she wasn't really in the mood to fend off awkward questions.

By the end of the time, though, she was a sweaty, dusty, dirty mess. The coveralls would pretty much be a write-off, given the amount of grime staining the knees and back. No one had bothered to clean before the renovations started, so when Ludi climbed up the shelves in the loading dock, she encountered at least a year's worth of dust and grease. She desperately needed a shower and to get into some clean clothes.

Just one problem presented itself, though. An hour ago her commlink buzzed with an incoming message from Sascha.

CODE

Payment's waiting at the Bakery when you're done.  Stop by ASAP.

[Mister Juan]

11:11:49 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Wallingford Pizza House, 106 Fairview Ave SW, Auburn, Seattle, UCAS

Every move she made gave her a slight chill of disgust. In fact, it wasn't being crudded all over that bothered her... Being dirty was actually something Ludi was pretty used to. Spending weeks on end without a shower, stuck knee deep in mud and crawling through charred body parts had a tendency to harden you to a certain point. No; the cringing was mostly due to the fact she not only had no clue what in the world she was covered with, and why it had been in those tiny crawl spaces. And to make things a little different from usual, she was in an excruciating bad mood. Very bad mood.

She hadn't seen or spent any time with Lana, she had a missed church, and now she had to go back to Sascha. As she had been planting the bugs, Ludi had finally made her mind up: she would tell Miki about Sascha's little side job. She simply couldn't play along with him anymore. Even if the job was of no importance to Mikhail, at least, she would still be in his good graces. Who knows... maybe he'd get rid of Sascha for her.

But all that wouldn't change the fact that if he felt like it, Sascha could send her right behind bars. She'd, of course, never even make it to bail. Someone would make sure she wouldn't talk. And odds were, it would be old friends standing behind the gun.

Sitting in her car, she lit herself her very first cigarette of the day, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. The work site had been none smoking, and although she could have very well taken a short break to puff quickly, the last thing she wanted was to stay there longer than she really had to. Fortunately, everyone had been either too busy to notice what she was doing... or no one simply cared.

And now, as smoke slowly filled the interior of the small car, she wondered what she would do next.

If she blatantly ignored Sascha's call, she risked having him stiffen her on the pay, or maybe even worst. But, knowing him, she couldn't simply show up like this. That and it was against her own personal sense of pride. Without a layer of kevlar and the reassuring weight of a gun, Ludi felt terribly vulnerable. She felt down right naked. That meant, she'd have to swing either back home, or at the shop. That would take some time... which would piss Sascha off.

As she lowered her window for a moment, chucking her cigarette butt outside, she pulled her psec out of her coverall, thumbing Sascha's number. He was going to have to wait a little. No way in hell she was showing up at the bakery with her dirty coveralls. He'd wait. That and she needed to get in touch with Miki.

It started to ring.

Pick up, you asshole...

[grendel]

11:12:03 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Wallingford Pizza House, 106 Fairview Ave SW, Auburn, Seattle, UCAS

The line connected with a voice only component.

"I don't recall having anything to discuss over the phone." Sascha's tone alone would have rankled her, let alone his words, and anger boiled through Ludi's veins unchecked. Grinding her teeth, she forced herself to calm down. Her tone is still an angry snarl, though.

"Look, the job's finished but I've got to go clean up. It'll take an hour, maybe ninety minutes before I can meet. I just wanted to let you know so you didn't get your panties in a twist when I didn't rush right over to the bakery."

Sascha barks an ugly laugh.

"Trust it to a girl to have to put her face on to meet. Fine, whatever, you look better when you're a little more put together anyway. Just get here as quick as you can."

The line goes dead.

[Mister Juan]

12:29:37 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Ludmilla's Workshop, Everett, Seattle, UCAS

Ludmilla lifted her head from the sink, sending her short air flipping back and away from her face. Tiny droplets of icy water shot out, dotting the mirror in front of her, and back wall of the tiny bathroom. Rough hands moving over her face, rubbing her eyes and wipping away the water. Holdinger her hands cupped over her mouth and nose for a moment, she locked gaze with herself. No matter how cybernetic here light green eyes were, they looked tired. Both set deep into their sockets, dark bags forming under them. Ludi's face looked tired. For a moment, contemplating in silence her own mask, the russian woman realized she had grown older. She hadn't even spent 5 years in Seattle... she was barely 30. Yet, she felt old. Her body was in top shape, and would stay so for as long as she could stand on her own two legs. But... Ludi couldn't help but feel like she was, at this very moment in time, stretching thin.

Taking a deep breath in, she ran both of her rough hands over her face and into her hair, slicking them away from her forehead. She leaned forward, still looking deep into her own eyes.

This is no different from a dance in the ring. This is no different.

She breathed out, feeling a slight shake in her throat.

Just a different ring. But no different.

She breath in once more, trying to steady herself.

“Knock them dead.� she said outloud, for her own ears.

Ludi exhaled, now in control of herself.

Grabbing the lone towel, she started to pat her face dry as she walked back into her workshop. On the drive back to her workshop, she had finally made up her mind. Today, she was calling Mikahail. She not only needed to see him for her own personal selfish desires.... but her business with Sascha couldn't go on anymore. Not quite sure yet if she was indeed going to tell him “everything�, Ludi was sure she'd at least tell him about the bugging job she had just carried. After all, Sascha was supposed to work for Miki... so he was entitled to know. All she hoped was that Miki's feelings would be enough to protect her. There was nothing stopping him from confronting Sascha... which would put Ludi in more than troubled water. And no matter what happened, one of two things would have to go down: she would have to deal with either Yuri, or Sascha. And neither tasks would be easy. All she could hoped was that, by tonight, Oracle would have some answers for her.

Slipping on a black Blakhawk CQB belt around the waist of her baggy tan cargo pants, Ludi secured her Fobus Roto-Holster on her right hip. She had gotten the Roto-Holster system about a year ago, after coming to the conclusion that different circonstances would force her to alter how she went about carrying her weapons. Altought she prefered the under the shoulder method, for the ease with which she could conceal a rather big piece like her Predator, it made her slower on the draw. Making sure the holster was tightly hooked, and slipped her heavy Predator in, setting in two full clips on her front left side, where she could access them easily. Sure, it wasn't the most “subtle� of set ups she could employ, but it was the most combat efficient. At least, in her own opinion.

Bending down, she pulled her right pant's leg up, strapping on the ankle holster that held her Colt.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Sascha had better not put her in a bad mood.

[Mister Juan]

12:34:31 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Underground Parking Garage, Ludmilla's Workshop, Everett, Seattle, UCAS

Sitting, lonely, in her car, Ludmilla's fingers were drumming nervously on the dashboard. She had been sitting in the underground parking lot, in the dark, in silence, for some time now. Five times now she had dialed half way through Mikhail, only to disconnect the call in a hurry. Every single time she thought about hearing his voice, she became uneasy and nervous. As ironic as it might have seen, Ludi felt like and unfaithful wife calling in to inform her husband of the other man she was taking to bed. Cursing herself one last time, she dialed... completely.