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

[Vegas]

20:42:41 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 10808 S. Baker St, Everett, Seattle

Mac nodded, her heart beating wildly as her legs dangled in the darkness below her. She hesitated only for an instant, not wanting an electronic lecture from above and not wanting to delay what they had come here to do. She slid off the ledge and breathed a quick sigh of relief when her minimal weight caught on the line. Her fingers wrapped around the descender and she slowly applied pressure as she was told until she could quickly get a handle on controlling her speed and she started descending the line. She could feel her pulse steady as she regulated her breathing and as she slid further into the inky darkness of the elevator shaft she glanced up at Kovacs and smiled before she squeezed her fingers a little tighter.

[grendel]

20:44:11 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 10808 S. Baker St, Everett, Seattle

There was enough ambient light leaking through the seals of the elevator doors that Mac's low-light turned the shadows into daylight. She could clearly see Tristan and Suda below her, the former dangling on the same line while the latter sat leaning against the wall, apparently asleep. She felt a change in the air around her, and Kovacs whistled past at almost free fall speed, face down with his Ares Alpha trained on the designated door. A gossamer thin cable payed out from the rear of his harness, leaving both of his hands free to wield the weapon. He slowed as he neared the other two, until he came to halt, swinging over to the opposite side of the door from Tristan. Mac arrived some thirty seconds later, smart enough to continue the same slow, deliberate descent she was comfortable with. Tristan unclipped from the line, helping her into a position along the shaft's structural supports. Suda stirred to life, blinking and rubbing her face.

Team, Three, astral is clear, nothing living inside the apartment, hallway is clear.

Mac glanced at Suda, since her icon highlighted itself in her AR as being the originator of the message. She'd heard the team refer to themselves as numbers before, but the convention had never been explicitly explained to her.

Kovacs glanced around, pointing to himself, then to Suda, then Mac, and finally Tristan.

Ready? he asked silently.

One. Drift's icon strobed in Mac's AR, temporarily highlighting itself green.

Two.

Three.

Four. Mac met Kovacs' glance, and felt not a small amount of pride at his nod of approval. Tristan took it as an execute signal, levering open the doors of the elevator shaft. They moved with deliberate stealth this time, rather than speed as they had during the assault on the warehouse. Kovacs cleared both ends of the hallway before moving through the open doors towards the left. Suda followed, then Mac, doing her best to move quietly, watch every direction, and keep her weapon at the low ready. She managed one, maybe two of the three.

[Vegas]

20:58:27 Monday, 15 January 2063 - westbound Hwy 2 into Everett Seattle

The trio moved with the ease and fluidity of well-practice precision, while Mac did her best to acclimate and fall in step with their lead. She kept her attention split between the team's AR, and the various doors and hallways they passed despite Suda's assurances the hallway they were in and eventually the apartment they were headed towards were clear.

While their entry through the elevator shafts had gotten them to their intended floor, they still need the thread their way through the building itself a ways to reach the target apartment. As they pushed in further, she watched as the wireframe of the building changed in her view as they passed where a door should have been, but where a solid wall now stood. She was grateful for the immediate updates in case she needed to rely on the plans to get out on her own.

Their forward progress slowed as they approached the door, Kovacs keeping point and clearing the opposite end of the hallway before they stood outside the door and began to make their way inside.

[grendel]

21:07:39 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 10808 S. Baker St, Everett, Seattle

Before the team made it to the final corridor, they were joined by one of Suda's spirits, the oversized cat padding along behind them silently. It coiled itself around the shaman's legs, its other-wordly eyes staring at Mac. She ignored it as best she could, focusing instead on Kovcas and Tristan. The tall samurai knelt in front of the door, skillfully manipulating the maglock casing with a pair of tools drawn from a small pouch on his web gear. The plastic casing popped open and he slid backwards as if it were a cobra about to strike.

Team, Actual, lock's been tampered with. Someone's been here before us.

The samurai glanced at Suda who nodded, quickly seating herself cross-legged before closing her eyes and slumping against the wall. Kovacs gestured to Mac, and then towards the end of the hall. Mac blinked, then gave a quick nod of understanding, going down on one knee with her submachine gun at the ready, hoping that was the gist of his silent instruction.

Suda opened her eyes. Team, Three, don't see anything that looks like a trap.

Kovacs nodded, gesturing Tristan to the other side of the door. Then, with one swift movement, he kicked in the door. The thin construction plastic panel flew off its hinges, an effect Mac was sure had more to do with previous damage than with the samurai's strength. The unexpected occurrence didn't slow Tristan at all, the swordsman ricocheting through the opening at sprinting speed. Kovacs followed an instant later, leaving the hallway suddenly empty save for Mac and Suda. The shaman slid through the door with feline grace, more businesslike and alert than Mac has ever seen her.

Mac stepped through the door, finding Tristan coming back at her quickly. She moved aside, and he lifted the door panel back into place, propping it in the jamb. Enough light still spilled through the cracks that her low-light functioned perfectly, and she glanced around the wreckage of the main room with a mix of curiosity and foreboding.

[grendel]

21:09:03 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 10808 S. Baker St, Everett, Seattle

Kovacs appeared through the doorway separating the living area from the bedroom, his Alpha resting muzzle down across his chest on its sling. Mac glanced at him, her equilibrium off. A strange smell permeated the air of the small apartment, a mixture of vaguely unpleasant odors that rankled the animal part of her mind.

"Clear," he reported. "Toss it quick but be thorough. I don't want to spend more than ten minutes on the ground here. Look for anything that might point to connections, drop sites, bolt holes. Two, Five, get the bedroom. And watch your step here."

The samurai gestured to an area off to his left, although Mac couldn't make out what he was cautioning them about. Tristan thumped her on the shoulder with his fist.

"C'mon, our fearless leader wants to starve me by keeping me out of the kitchen."

Suda was already rummaging through the cupboards. "Yeah, like that's going to happen."

Kovacs had another kit out, kneeling on the floor of the living area. Mac suddenly identified what he had cautioned them about, the sources of at least one of the worrying smells clicking into place. She watched as he swabbed a sample from the large pool of blood drying tacky on the floor. Clearly something bad had happened here recently.

[Vegas]

21:15:42 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 10808 S. Baker St, Everett, Seattle

Mac couldn’t help the roll of her eyes at Tristan’s accusations but the smirk that accompanied it was short lived as she stepped around Kovacs and the area of the floor he was working over. She couldn’t stop herself from looking back towards the blood as the swordsman led them into the bedroom, it didn’t mean it was Isomer’s contact’s blood, but given the state of the apartment it was highly likely.

She shook the foreboding thoughts from her head as she stepped into the bedroom and let her eyes travel the surfaces, the furnishings, the limited personal items that were lumped into the overall chaos of the space having been thoroughly tossed as if someone had been looking for something in particular. She watched from the doorway as Tristan started stepping over piles of clothing, rifling through everything within his reach. Mac did what came naturally to her at first, she started drawing assumptions on the person who lived here based on what was still contained in the room hoping it might give her a better insight on who he was and where exactly they might find the clues they were looking for. God knew she had seen the insides of countless bedrooms of all walks of life and been able to decipher some of their habits and behaviors of her clients before they revealed themselves to her physically.

“So what exactly are we looking for?”
She posed the question as she stepped further into the room, dropping to her knees next to the edge of the bed. She pushed aside a pile of otherwise non-descript clothing before she carefully ran her fingertips along the edge of the underside of the bedframe, feeling along the barely there lip.

If I needed to stash something quickly, this is where I’d go first.

[grendel]

21:19:27 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 10808 S. Baker St, Everett, Seattle

"Anything that might point to where the missing owner might have run to if he was trying to go to ground." Tristan was systematically dismantling the closet with haste, looking as much with his hands as with his eyes as he pillaged clothes, shoes, and boxes for anything of use. Mac was about to respond when her fingers ran over something that didn't belong. Carefully she felt around the edges until she found the tape holding the item in place, peeling it free to examine her find. An unmarked credstick was sandwiched between an unmarked OMC and a generic brand flash-pak. Popping out her switchblade, Mac cut the flash-pak free rather than trying to loosen it from the tape. The last thing she wanted was to accidentally fire it off in the darkened apartment. The rest she stashed in her pocket, turning to attack the dresser on her side of the room. Pulling the drawers out, she emulated Tristan's search methods, tossing clothes from the dresser onto the bed after running them through her hands. In the bottom of the middle drawer she found a disturbing amount of porn sims. She debated for a moment, then decided to err on the side of caution. Stripping the pillowcase off the pillow, she emptied the chips into it before setting the drawer aside.

"Good idea," commented the swordsman, borrowing the pillowcase and filling it with the handful of items he'd located.

Team, One, Lone Star surveillance drone inbound.

Mac straightened at the message from Drift, but Tristan continued his search, testing the panels in the closet and bathroom to see if any were loose.

One, Actual, are they queued on our posit?

Actual, One, unknown at this time. Two minutes until overhead. Status of ground units unknown.

Team, Actual, evac in one minute. Two, we'll be coming out the north door. Three, sterilize.

Mac turned towards the door and almost ran into Suda. The shaman slipped aside to stand amidst the wreckage of the room. She mumbled something under her breath, and Mac saw the telltale flicker of energy swirl around her as she drew mana from the astral plane to do her bidding. Tristan bounded past carrying the pillowcase over his shoulder.

"Fire escape?" she heard him ask.

"Set the line," Kovacs confirmed, "we're right behind you."

The tall samurai pointed Mac after the swordsman, and she hustled into the hall. Suda passed her at a jog, snapping her fingers at the spirit lounging by the door. The ethereal cat bounded after her. Kovacs set the door panel into the jamb before turning to catch up.

"C'mon," he urged Mac, his tone commanding but without the harshness she expected. She followed the digital footprints echoed on her AR from Tristan's lead, her submachine gun cradled in her arms to keep it from slapping against her chest. A muffled collision sounded from ahead, and seconds later they passed a junkie sprawled on the floor, a dazed look on his face. Mac slowed instinctively, only to feel Kovacs at her back. She skittered around the fallen figure, while the taller samurai simply hurdled him.

Turning the corner, she saw Tristan fiddling with the door leading to the building's external fire escape. He had it open before they reached him, having run a simple bypass on the alarm to keep it from sounding. Suda never stopped, twisting lithely over the railing and dropping into thin air. Mac slowed again, expecting to hook up to Tristan's line like she'd done earlier. Instead, Kovacs picked her up and thrust her into the swordsman's waiting arms.

"Wha?" she hissed in surprise.

"Hold on!" grinned Tristan gleefully, clipping the carabiner on his climbing harness to hers before taking two big steps and diving off the landing. Mac clamped her mouth shut on a scream as she watched Kovacs snatch the cable unspooling from the rear of Tristan's harness and clip it to the railing. Then he, too, was off and falling through the darkness after them.

"Weight coming on," advised Tristan, laconically, before a giant tug pulled them almost to a stop. Something overhead SPAANNNNGGED, and they dropped the final meter onto terra firma. With a single move, the swordsman released the carabiner holding them together and swiped behind him. Kovacs didn't bother with the halt, simply slowing to a survivable speed before tagging the line behind him with the catalyst stick and dropping the last meter or so to the ground. As the myomeric lines began to dissolve, the three boarded the waiting Roadmaster, Suda having already seated herself inside.

Rolling, advised Drift over comms, and the heavy van bumped down the curb and accelerated into the night.

[Vegas]

21:33:13 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Eastbound Hwy 96 into Everett Seattle

Drift had pointed them southbound, taking a different route to wind them back towards Redmond. As soon as everyone was confident they weren't carrying any type of tail from the apartment building, they got to work laying out what they had managed to salvage from the apartment. Tristan was quick to pull the various items they had revived from the bedroom, laying them out for Suda and Kovacs to add to anything they recovered. He upended the pillowcase, sending the various porn chips scattering across the pile. Suda raised a brow with a look of distaste curving her lips.

"Don't judge a book by its cover. He could have hidden anything in plain sight that way," Mac shrugged slightly as she reached for the pocket along her right leg, tearing the Velcro closure open with a violent rip. She pulled out the contents and added them to the pile, holding the OMC between her fingers.

"I'll see your porn chips, and raise you a flash pak, a credstick and this."

She held the chip before Kovacs until he took it from her fingers.

[grendel]

21:41:29 Monday, 15 January 2063 - southbound I5 into Downtown Seattle

Kovacs passed the chip to Drift. "Be careful, if we need to we can get an expert on it."

The rigger acknowledged, slotting the chip anyway.

"Oh hey!" Tristan's face was reverent as he held up one of the porn sims. "He's got a copy of Flower In Bloom with Rei Ayanami in it! They only made like a dozen of these!"

Mac chuckled as the swordsman pocketed the loot, glancing over at Suda in expectation of a snarky comment. The shaman, though, wore a puzzled expression on her face as she turned over a pair of boxes of NutriSoy Ultimate Flavor Enhancer - Steak flavoring. With little ceremony, she upended the opened package, spewing the pale powder out over the pile of gear already on the floor of the Roadmaster. A slim wrist model commlink protected by a watertight bag clunked onto the floor.

"Bingo," said Kovacs.

Suda nodded. "I was wondering why the used box was heavier than the new one."

Mac brushed the package off, handing it towards Drift, who shook his head.

"Nope. Not touching that thing with a three meter pole. Liable to have some nasty IC on board."

The tone of the Roadmaster's engine changed, and Mac felt them shift lanes. Kovacs glanced at Tristan. "JW?"

"Yeah," replied Tristan, "let me make sure he's awake."

The swordsman punched in a call on his commlink. Suda was drawing figures in the piles of powdered flavoring on the floor of the truck. "You know we'll have to wait in the truck, right?" she asked Kovacs.

The tall samurai shrugged. "Tristan and Mac can handle the details. I know it would freak Eight the frag out if we showed up."

"It's incapable of freaking out," corrected Suda, "it has no emotions left. We should have put it out of its misery long ago."

Kovacs face tightened into a wintery grimace, and his tone was icy cold. "I'm not rehashing this with you now. What's done is done. Keep focused on the target."

The shaman shrugged, standing and dusting off her hands so she could sit by Drift. "Just sayin'."

"We're good," interjected Tristan, signing off his comm call. "JW will be expecting us."

[Vegas]

21:42:16 Monday, 15 January 2063 - southbound I5 into Downtown Seattle

Mac shifted in her seat as the temperature in the van dropped a good number of degrees with the exchange between Kovacs and Suda. Her brow arched sharply while her eyes moved between Kovacs and Tristan, finally settling on the swordsman, the silent questions evident on her face. The one she spoke however was benign.

"So who exactly is JW? Some tech wiz."

[grendel]

21:55:09 Monday, 15 January 2063 - southbound I5, Downtown Seattle

"Not just a tech whiz," replied Tristan, ignoring the testy exchange between Kovacs and Suda. "He was one of the interface pioneers that worked for Fuchi Electronics back when it was Fuchi and not Cross. He was one of their best engineers, brilliant in his work. But not ambitious, he was one of those guys who just liked to tinker and build stuff and make things work better. One of his less scrupulous coworkers stole some of his tech and froze him out of the corporation. He'd never been on the outside and ended up surfing the mean streets for a couple of years until he started selling his skills to the shadows. He's kind of eccentric, but harmless, and definitely an elite resource to have."

Mac nodded, building a mental picture in her mind of a clearly older individual. She knew she shouldn't, but the dark part of her heart couldn't help but needle the shaman.

"So who's Eight?"

The swordsman glanced forward to where Suda sat, but if the shaman heard she didn't react to the question.

"He's the reason we got to know JW in the first place. He's one of those guys that are more machine than human. And in his case, almost completely machine. He tends to rub the more natural people the wrong way."

[Vegas]

21:57:43 Monday, 15 January 2063 - southbound I5 into Downtown Seattle

She found herself nodding towards Tristan as if his description of the infamous Eight made perfect sense and as if she ran into heavily augmented types all the time, when it couldn't be further from the truth. The hairs on the back of her neck raised as Suda's statement replayed in her head and a chill of forbidding ran through her. She knew the shaman was dangerous both from the rest of the team's declarations as well as her own observations, but it was like another layer was revealed in that moment and Mac was fairly certain that the woman would deal with things she found no longer useful or complicating in a most decisive manner. She was fairly certain that went for people too. She swallowed hard against her throat gone dry and tried to keep her voice low and level. She wasn't about to let the shaman rattle her cage, or at least not let it show.

"So, if you met JW through Eight, is he some kind of byproduct of his tech?"

[grendel]

22:08:34 Monday, 15 January 2063 - southbound Hwy 181, Downtown, Seattle

Tristan shakes his head, but it's Kovacs that answers. "Not a byproduct, really. JW's just more comfortable around technology. He has a hard time relating to anyone not technically versed."

Mac nodded. "I've met a few of those."

"Not like JW you haven't," Tristan chuckles. The swordsman is busy tidying up the mess left over from their ransacking of the apartment, doing his best to sort and organize the random collection of items recovered.

Nothing on the chip but paydata. Double-checking but I don't think it has any location info.

Kovacs acknowledged Drift's message over the net with a double mic click. Mac glanced at him. "Paydata?"

"Like a money stash, stuff that he could fence quickly to get some nuyen. Possibly bribery or blackmail material as well," replied the samurai. Mac nodded.

22:23:16 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4029 Marshall Street, Auburn, Seattle

Drift parks the Roadmaster adjacent to a rundown, three story brick building. Although it appears deserted, an anonymous skeleton amidst an urban graveyard here on the edges of Auburn, Mac can see a few tell tale lights burning inside. At this hour little traffic fills the street, mostly the odd delivery and cargo trucks out making their rounds. Snow remains piled high on the curbs and sidewalks, and no other pedestrian is visible amidst the dark, chill wind.

Tristan hefts the recovered commlink, flashing Mac a smile. "Ready?"

She smirked at him. "Born ready."

True to their word, both Kovacs and Suda remain in the truck, leaving Mac and the swordsman alone to cross the alleyway to the building, heading around street side towards the one obvious entrance. Mac is a little surprised then Tristan is simply able to open the door, unused to people trusting enough to leave doors unlocked. Especially in this neighborhood.

The interior of the building appears pitch black initially, and its with difficulty that Mac's low light gathers enough ambient illumination to reveal racks of undefined equipment and floor to ceiling shelves overflowing with technological detritus, circuits and ports glinting in the half-light, sinuous coils of cables drooping carelessly from plastic bins like adders hanging in the jungle foliage. Indistinct voices mutter in conversation from somewhere within the labyrinthine room.

At least Tristan seems to know where he's going, moving confidently through the maze towards the voices. He halts abruptly, though, his left hand held low at his side in warning.

"Good evening, Eight," he says, addressing the shadows. "I called a few minutes ago, JW is expecting us."

A figure, standing so still Mac thought it part of the technological rubble, shifts in the darkness. A pair of eyes glow to life with neon blue lambency, and a low buzzing, grating noise emanates forth, like an optical drive accessing data. The figure glides off in near silence, and Tristan motions for them to follow.

"Good to see you, too," he says, his tone betraying a hint of uncertainty.

After a minute, they emerge into a large workspace in the middle of the room. Three long tables mark out a square with the fourth side left open. Electronics in various states of (dis)repair lie open on the tables, intertwined with diagnostic machinery and power supplies. A tail of ozone tickles the back of Mac's throat, and she resists the urge to sneeze. Overhead hang a dozen large display screens, four of them tuned to different trideo channels, while the rest are text readouts of RSS feeds or matrix chatrooms or clusters of UMS iconography or more fanciful sculpted systems. Three of the screens have their volume up loud enough to be heard, and are the source of the muttering voices.

Seated on a high rolling stool at one of the workbenches is a stooped figure, shapeless in a set of canvas coveralls, an unruly mop of blonde hair sticking out from beneath a set of image intensification goggles. Eight's shadow appears at the far side of the table, this time a series of rapid clicks join the low buzzing, like a server swapping between drive sectors. The figure turns, straightening and turning towards them. Even then Mac can tell that he's short, probably less than her height. The face revealed is old, creased with lines and spots. But the eyes, sunken amidst a mass of wrinkles, still burn with bright intelligence.

"It's good to see you again, JW," says Tristan.

"Ah, yes. It is good to see you, too, Tristan."

[Vegas]

22:25:41 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4029 Marshall Street, Auburn, Seattle

If Mac felt out of place toeing the edge of Kovas' world over the last week, she felt positively alien in JW's workspace with Eight hovering in the background. Her eyes moved across the workspace, the various screens, sweeping over the myriad of electronics, never lingering on much for long enough to be accused of staring. She finally rested her gaze back on JW's face, drawn back to the depths of knowledge there as She let Tristan make any introductions as he felt necessary before they got down to the reason for their visit. She was out of her element and Eight's lurking put her further on edge and she was digging her nails into her palms to try to keep her composure.

[grendel]

22:31:06 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4029 Marshall Street, Auburn, Seattle

"JW, this is Mac, she's working with us on this," Tristan made the introductions as he rummaged in his pocket.

"Mac, a pleasure to meet you," JW extended his hand, which surprised her since he was the only one to have ever done so. After a moment's hesitation, they shook. She watched as he turned back to Tristan, obviously more comfortable dealing in something requiring his specialty. The swordsman offered the still sealed commlink.

"We need everything on it as soon as you can."

JW turned it over in his hands, flipping down one monocle of his goggles to examine the device. "How secured is it?"

"Unknown. But it belonged to someone who hustled data professionally."

This elicited a hum from JW, while Eight burred in caution. The short technician acknowledged with a nod. "Yes, yes, my friend. We'll use the stand alone. Go ahead and isolate all our networks."

Tristan stepped back to give him room to work.

[Vegas]

22:33:13 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4029 Marshall Street, Auburn, Seattle

Mac was still parsing the handshake, strong grip, leathery skin, his face so similar to the many older men she had shared company with, yet none had held even a hint of intelligence that JW had. A tilt of her head as she watched, studying them both.

The elegant dance between man and machine as JW and Eight set up to crack the found commlink, careful to insulate the rest of their electronics and gear from whatever might come at them. Every questioning or curious noise that escaped JW's mouth was met with an equal yet electronic one from Eight.

Mac was so engrossed in watching the two work that she wasn't ready when Tristan stepped back, either to give them space to work or to leave, and bumped into her instead. She bit her lip and shook her head as she stepped back giving the pair room.

"Sorry, are we leaving?" She spoke in hushed tones as she looked up to the swordsman.

[grendel]

22:48:27 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4029 Marshall Street, Auburn, Seattle

Tristan shook his head. "Just gotta hang out for a bit, it shouldn't take too long."

He gestured to one of the overhead screens, cleared of its original collection of RSS feeds and now showing a rather undecorated collection of UMS iconography. Both JW and Eight were now still, focused entirely on the VR and their attempt to crack open the encryption protecting the mysterious commlink without damaging any of the information contained within. Mac knew she lacked the vocabulary to understand what they were doing, and she suspected that Tristan did as well. The swordsman was busy rummaging through his pockets, probably in search of something to eat, rather than paying attention to the overhead display.

Minutes ticked past, and Mac finally ended up clearing off a bit of bench space for herself and taking a seat. Tristan had found a snack bag in his pocket and was happily munching away. She sighed, fidgeting. Waiting was always the hardest for her, especially given everything that had transpired within the past twenty four hours.

JW leaned back with a sigh, lifting his goggles and rubbing his eyes. Tristan brushed his hands against his pants, clearing them of crumbs.

"Well?" he prompted.

"Your decker friend utilized this commlink to echo his own network, copying down twelve hours of his life at a time as an off-line backup. It recorded his online movements as well as storing his cyberware data. We scanned through the data quickly, and on the surface I don't think we've found anything of particular interest. Except the last few minutes of data recorded."

The display screen flickered before resolving into a view of the apartment that Mac found familiar, although much cleaner than when last she saw it. The view didn't answer many of the questions she had about the nature of this contact, just that he spent his Monday evening multitasking on the matrix while playing one of the endless AR games available. Something violent happened to the left of the field of view, and as the contact reacted it became clear. The door to the apartment stood ajar, smoking in response to the breach by the pair of bulky attackers filling the hallway. A weapon along with a smartlink crosshairs appeared in the field of view, but he wasn't fast enough. Gunshots flashed, and Mac flinched aside. When she looked back, the field of view was of the ceiling, a view that was obscured when a face leaned over the prostate body of the contact. The view screen froze with a frame of the face and Mac glanced at Tristan in confusion.

The face was that of a child, no older than ten or twelve, but with completely white eyes.

[Vegas]

22:54:19 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4029 Marshall Street, Auburn, Seattle

"What the fra..."

Mac shook her head and tried to clear the image of the person with the white eyes. No, she silently corrected herself, the kid with the white eyes. She hoped Tristan both could and would explain but something nagged at her in the video and she spoke up, her request to JW instead of the swordsman.

"Can you go back, just before he first turns."

She got a quick nod from the tech wiz, the screen above her rolling back and pausing just as the subject's head began to turn.

"A couple of steps back, when he's distracted by his game. Please."

JW complied again and Mac studied the game for an instant, the iconography familiar though she knew she had never played. She ran her thumb over the tips of her fingers as she tried to remember why it was familiar before she snapped her finger and pointed while she took a second to make sure her commlink was open and the rest of the team could hear her revelation.

"The Quest of Narsheck! It was one of those games Ricky was always distracted by," She said this as if Tristan should know exactly what and who she was talking about and when he just stared at her with a confused look on his face she sighed dramatically and continued to explain. "He's a friend of Frankie's, a big matrix geek, he let it slip that he and his buddies were always connected into the game, not for its merits on the gaming spectrum, but that it had a killer "Inn" that the characters could meet up at during their quests. I highly doubt they were there to virtually drink grog and scope out the wenches if you get my drift."

She caught JW nodding in understanding an instant before Tristan connected the dots.

"I'm fairly sure it was more of an information clearinghouse more than it was ever a game."

[grendel]

23:02:26 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 4029 Marshall Street, Auburn, Seattle

"Good eyes," commented Tristan, palming a credstick and setting it on the workbench next to JW. The older human glanced at it before disconnecting the commlink from the diagnostic cables, closing the back panel and slipping it back into the protective plastic sack.

"Well, it looks like our job here is done?" JW ended with an uptick, offering an opening should Tristan have anything further he needed. The swordsman nodded.

"We appreciate it, thanks for seeing us so late." Tristan gestured to Mac, scooping up the commlink as he went. Together they retraced their steps out of the cavernous building and to the alleyway where the Roadmaster idled. Tristan filled the team in on what they found from the commlink as Drift pointed the heavy truck back into the city.

"Back to the safe house," confirmed Kovacs. "I'll have Isomer set us up an account on this game. Mac and I will go, we'll drop in from one of the anonymous havens."

"I'll need the day tomorrow to work if you want the big guns," said Suda. The samurai nodded. "You're clear."

Tristan clapped Drift on the shoulder. "Looks like it's just you and me, big guy."

"Fine by me," replied Drift. "Just so long as I get to be the big spoon."

[Vegas]

23:11:41 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Northbound Hwy 181, Downtown, Seattle

Mac laughed brightly at the banter between Tristan and Drift but it quickly morphed into a giant yawn that she tried to hide behind one of her hands to no avail. She was fairly convinced that if she stood still too long she'd be asleep on her feet. She raked her finger through her hair and blinked a few times before she turned her attention towards the samurai and grew a little more serious.

"If Isomer can create you an account with enough history to access that part of the game that's great. If not, we can always go in on mine," The corners of Mac's mouth turned up slightly as Kovacs looked at her questioningly for an instant.

"What? I'm not any kind of gamer, I've just got an account, Frankie does too. Hell most of our inner circle does thanks to Ricky. Pretty sure he hacked some marker into our accounts that vouches for us or something amongst that particular set of players if they know what to look for," She shrugged her shoulders clearly out of her league when it came to the finer details of the inner workings of both the game and the hacks in her account.

"Just saying I could probably vouch for you if anyone got skittish over your sudden appearance in the game.

[grendel]

23:22:13 Monday, 15 January 2063 - 1400 Willow Heights Road #4, Tacoma, Seattle

Kovacs shrugged. "No arguments, I'm just thinking that if you already have an account then we won't bother talking to Isomer at all. You run the recon and I'll cover you."

"Okay, anything in particular we're looking for?"

"Isomer's contact goes by the name Pershing, although I don't know if his online alias is the same or not."

"It was on his datachip," interjected Drift.

"Easy day, then." Mac rubbed her hands together, trying to ease some tension from her shoulders. She wasn't sure how both Kovacs and Tristan remained so calm and relaxed. The swordsman's constant food addiction probably helped. Even now he was busily munching away on some kind of organic granola bar. The rest of the ride back to the safe house passed uneventfully. The team broke up to their assigned duties as soon as the Roadmaster pulled up, although Drift kept the heavy van outside until Mac and Kovacs departed in his truck.

23:49:34 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

Nothing had changed about the anonymous matrix access point in the few days that transpired between her visit with Tristan and now. Kovacs led in the same way as the swordsman had, although he waited longer outside the unmarked door before being granted access. Mac wondered if it had anything to do with the hardware she knew he carried beneath his longcoat. Regardless, she soon found herself amidst the chipped and faded plastic cubicles, covered with their patina of graffiti and peel-tabs from used stim patches. Beneath her lover's watchful gaze, she jacked in, letting her mind submerge into the electronic ether before calling up the address of the game world.

[Vegas]

23:53:57 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

The Quest of Narsheck was like countless other MMORPG’s that littered the matrixverse, you take on the role as a mighty hero who must set out to protect the lands of Narschek from those who conspire to see it destroyed. You fight through creepy monasteries, search in the bowels of the earth for dwarven treasure, or investigate a mysterious castle. Mac had never set foot outside of the game’s individual player’s lobby or the Inn she had mentioned to Tristan.

Her personal lobby is where she found herself once she entered the game, surrounded in the space by the constantly updating leaderboard, maps of where her character had (not) explored that marked her last location with a glowing red ‘X’, the game’s General Store, the list of her “friends” online and the private message interface. She was about to read the three messages that had arrived since her last visit when she felt herself pulled through the game by a familiar game persona who had summoned her to the free-for-all Inn she had mentioned back at JW’s workshop. She quickly found herself seated across from a burly human character at in the tavern. He was one she had met up with in the flesh in an exchange of info for cred, one she knew in the meat as an Ork who went by the name of Gryphon.

Mac inclined her head towards the familiar character, sending a tumble of copper curls covering her character’s green eyes. She was always amused at how far her game persona was away from her reality and how often it seemed to occur that way. She wondered as she looked around the half-full tavern just how opposite most of these people must be in the flesh.

“Imagine running into you around here. Looking for something in particular, or just catching up for old time’s sake? I’m kind of working up against a deadline tonight.”

Mac's face softened as she watched the man across from her react to her bitchier-than-intended tone. It wasn't his fault she was in the game looking for anything that might open doors or make things clearer when it came to their search.

"Sorry, it's been a long night."

She managed a slight smile as she continued to study Gryph, her eyes lingering on the 'clan' badge that was clipped to one of the thick leather straps that crossed his persona's chest. She wore an identical one on her hip.

"Actually, you might be able to help me out of a tough spot. How well do you know Ric... Er Rhys' clan"

[grendel]

23:58:06 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

Gryph shrugged, forgoing any reaction to her early snappish comment in light of the question. "I know it, but that's about it. We're not feuding currently if you're looking to build a party."

Mac shook her head. She wasn't here to gather a raiding party together to conquer one of the multitude of quests available for gold and XP. "Nah, not tonight. I'm actually just looking for one person in particular but I'm not sure the best way to go about it."

There was a pause as Gryph looked confused, his avatar scratching one oversized tusk. "Is the banner portal down again?"

Mac knew he was referring to the notoriously buggy teleportation system in Narshek, the one that was supposed to deliver you to the proximity of whatever player's banner you clicked on, but more often than not unceremoniously dumped you at a random location in the game world. Often with unpleasantly lethal results.

"I'm fairly sure he's not currently online, I was hoping to find out if he'd cached anything."

Gryph glanced around to make sure none of Narshek's Peacekeepers were within earshot, since Mac was suggesting something not just a little against game rules. It wasn't exactly stealing to crash another player's cache, but it was damn close. Even if all she wanted to do was read the private messages linked to the account, if she was discovered it would mean a permanent ban from the game. Gryph lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Cache crashing? Never figured you for the type. What's he hoarding?"

[Vegas]

00:01:42 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

Mac looked around their immediate area as if she was looking for Peacekeepers as well, when what she was really doing was buying time as she figured how she wanted to play this and just what she could afford to give away.

"That's the million nu question."

She dropped her gaze to the table, falling back into one of her cons as easily as she breathed. She knew she was telegraphing shame and guilt even in her digital persona as she wrung her hands in her lap.

"I'm afraid he might have files... Photos and videos he could use against me, if you know what I mean." She choked out, fighting not to fall apart.

If she could convince Gryph to help, she needed to build a plausible reason to sift through Pershing's messages without a second set of eyes. Incriminating photos and videos involving her might buy her that privacy as well as spark the need in Gryph to help "rescue" her.

[grendel]

00:05:19 Tuesday, 16 January 2063 - Recott Lane, Redmond, Seattle

"You sent him nudes? Man, I...uh...yeah, that sucks." Gryph shook his head, frowning. "That'd be worth it, though, risking the game to get 'em back. What's his name?"

Mac maintained the illusion, casting her eyes about to ensure their conversation was still private. None of the other avatars loitering around the Raven Horse Inn seemed to be paying attention to them at all. "I'm pretty sure he goes by the name Pershing."

Gryph blinked in surprise. "You're drekkin' me, right?"

When he saw that Mac not only didn't recognize the name nor the implication, he shook his head. "I think you're going to be mostly out of luck. The guy's a level twenty five paragon! His retainers have retainers! There's no way you're getting close enough to his cache to pry it apart."

"Well frag," she muttered, although her frown was mostly for show. If what Gryph said was true, then information gathering might be easier than anticipated. If Pershing employed retainers, it was a good bet that at least some of them would be actual players rather than AI bots. They might know more details about Isomer's missing contact.

"Could we at least take a look?" she asked. Gryph shrugged. "Sure, I suppose so. It's your funeral."

He stood and lead her out one of the Inn's many entrances, to the stables across the muddy road. Torches lit the exteriors of both buildings, pushing back Narshek's perpetual twilight. Mac had no idea if her avatar still retained the horse it once had, but they solved the issue by simply purchasing another. It wasn't anything fancy, but then she wasn't planning on charging into combat with it so she didn't need one of the expensive war striders. As it was, they ended up fleeing a couple of random encounters, even on the roads you couldn't avoid the odd brace of dire boars or a roaming ettin marauder. Eventually, though, they emerged from a thin copse of trees onto the bare crest of a rise that sloped down to a narrow valley. At the head of the valley, rising majestically into the clouded twilight, was a multi-towered keep. Mac whistled softly in appreciation. If Pershing could afford something like that, Gryph's assertion of his prowess must be spot on. Her companion, though, frowned.

"Strange. I don't see anyone around."