Deep Water Blackout, In Character Thread Options

[BlackHat]

Harbor Island Seattle, 14th February 2070 1905

At the mention of the ship, Carter laughed and patted a nearby hunk of whirling electronics. "Been meaning to replace just about every piece of this ship, at some point. Most of it'll hold for a while, though."

"If we're using sample stock, it'll be tagged and traceable, right?" He nodded his head in the direction of the sensor-array. "We'll want to be careful about where we use it, then. I, ah, don't exactly have all my licenses in order, if'n you guys know what I mean." Carter smiled, "No need to advertise the fact that we've got ultrawideband radar, for example." He then lowered his voice, "... or that we can defend ourselves."

[Lidralyn]

Mitsuhama North American HQ, Monday 17 Feburary 2070, 0745

Lidralyn smiles at his superior and gently banters "When have I ever let you down Kenji? This will be my top most priority and no one will be the wiser that I am working on it"

Lidralyn also effortlessly through his skinlink and eyes creates a copy of the picture that way scrolling by on the frame on the wall and makes a note to further inspect it later.

[BlackHat]

Harbor Island Seattle, 14th February 2070 2000

Carter spent the next hour giving Guy a tour of the ship, and introducing him to the crew, and answering any questions about operations or duties. He took care to point out anything electronic that had been acting up, but stressed that the sensor issue was priority - as the ship would need to be ready to go in a day or two.

[TheOneRonin]

Harbor Island Seattle, 16th February 2070 1100

Desmond maneuvers his way across the deck with his olive drab, 5-foot duffel strapped across his back. On his way off of the ship, he flashes his smile at the rest of the crew.

"I'm off then. Got some things to do before tha meet. You buggers can com me if ya need. See ya at the Strip House."


Northern Tacoma, a few miles from SeaTac, Sunday, February 18th 2070, 2015 hours

Tabitha scrapes the left over Thai take-out into the trash in the kitchen of her 1-bedroom condo. She and Des had just had dinner from her favorite Asian restaurant and were settling down on the futon to watch the trid.

She snuggled up close to Des and gently turned his chin towards her. Her hopeful gaze held his for just a moment before she spoke.

"So Des...I was thinking...my bird is in a maintenance cycle this week, so I'll be free after 1600 for the next several days. And tomorrow night, there is a new gallery opening downtown that I've been waiting for...I was expecting to have to go alone...but now that you're back..."


Desmond bit his bottom lip and broke his gaze away from Tabitha.

"Can't luv. I've got some work tomor..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Tabitha pulled away from him, folding her arms across her chest...her face contorting into that scowl that Des was all too familiar with.

Tabitha turned to face the Trid. "I should have known. No word for 3 weeks from you, then you drop right in out of the blue. Stupid me. I thought you were coming in to SEE ME. But that's not the deal, is it? That's never the deal, Desmond. Only work brings you land-side, never me. I'm just part of the 'supply-run' you make when you are here. You know...come into port, load up on diving gear, booze, bullets, and don't forget to stop and pick up a piece of ass while you are out..."

Des put his hands on Tabitha's shoulders, turning her to face him. "My dearest Tabitha...you know that's not true. And I'll prove it to you. I do have a job...but after it's over, we are taking a vacation together. Some time off from both of our responsibilities. Just you and me...and no interruptions...I promise...you have my word.

With that, he leaned in to kiss her as passionately as he ever had.

Lets just hope I'm still in one piece when this is over...

[Method]

Lidralyn:

Mitsuhama North American HQ, Monday 17 Feburary 2070, 0748

Tomiki squints his eyes a little and peers at you as if he's trying to gauge whether your reaction is genuine or not. After a moment of awkward silence he speaks in a hushed tone.

"Look, its probably not safe to talk here. It would be best to meet somewhere else. A friend of mine runs a club called The Strip House in the International District. Meet me there tonight at 8 and I'll tell you everything I can."

With that he dismisses you by way of a abrupt gesture toward the door.

[pragma]

Harbor Island Seattle, 16th February 2070 1500

Guy blew some dust out of the freshly machined coupler and stared at the small burrs of metal left in the device by the milling process. It really wasn't going to affect the long term behavior of the device, but it would be good to know exactly how much metal would be belched out of the device the first time they started using it at high field. Based on the job in front of him, not much.

Bart had built an impressive coupler. The man was going to be worth his weight in gold if he kept up this kind of work in the shop. It was also nice to have someone to talk shop with, Guy even felt outclassed chatting about certain hardware aspects. He was impressed. And the man was easy to talk to, even if Guy got the impression that he was trying too hard sometimes. He couldn't complain about having a talkative mechanic on board no matter that it felt a little like he was being swindled.

He slid the coupler gently into place between the pre-field coupler and the main array. It fit perfectly.

The cajun man and the Scot were new too. Though Carter seemed a little more familar with them. Petwo was a little bit of a legend, and reportedly a miracle worker. Nothing stayed broken while he was around. Guy hadn't heard of Des before and hadn't had a chance to meet the man before he headed shoreside. Guy wasn't sure what exactly what Des did. Carter wasn't dumb though, Guy had no doubt the man was useful.

He stretched as he stood up, letting a few charms and assorted holy symbols that he wore clank together. He wore them all to symbolize the togetherness of the spirit. He doubted he'd get to talk much about that. As much as Carter had done for him, the man still had no patience for the higher spiritual things in life and Guy was far from evangelical -- better just to let the spirit flow.

He headed to the bridge to overhaul the ship's network iinfrastructure. There were holes you could drive a truck through in the firewall. Could be a long afternoon. But he had water under his feet and that was a relief.

[Method]

Crew:

Harbor Island, Monday 17 February 2070, 0800

Having completed the introductions the crew gets to work. The weekend is spent tidying up the Odyssey and settling in to new quarters and new duties. Despite the dreary weather some maneuvers on the Sound serve the dual purpose of breaking in the new crew members and alleviating the costs of anchoring at port. Everything seems to go smoothly, but some are eager to disembark when the ship makes port again late Sunday afternoon.

---------------------------

All:

International District, Monday 17 February 2070, 1900

The Strip House is one of the newer clubs in Seattle catering to the after-business crowd and other well-to-do urban party-goers. Themed after a 1900's burlesque den, the club features a menu chocked full of real Kobe beef and a nightly show, making for a wonderful double entendre. The dimly lit interior of the club is decorated in opulent hard wood, ruby red carpet and polished brass fixtures. But the most striking feature (besides the scantly clad waitresses) are the hundreds upon hundreds of framed photographs- famous beauties of by-gone eras ranging all the way back to the days when movies were two dimensional and didn't even have sound.

As you approach the front entrance you are met a stunning blond bombshell in a skin-fit red dress. If she's had cosmetic surgery its too good to tell. She is flanked by two very large, very unfriendly looking orks dressed in dark pinstriped slacks, white button-up shirts, suspenders and newsies hats. They eye you suspiciously as enter, and one of them holds a sensor paddle of some kind.

Bombshell flashes you a flawless smile. "Welcome to the Strip House, boys. What is the name of your party?"

[Lidralyn]

International District, Monday 17 February 2070, 1900

Lidralyn doesn't make a gesture at all but using his skinlink transfers 100 credits to the ork asking him the question. Once he realises the ork knows he recieved them Lidralyn exclaims "I am not here for a party, I am here to see the owner, I have an appointment."

[Method]

Lidralyn:

Bombshell averts her eyes a little and appears to be staring off into space. She runs her long slender finger through the air in front of her and appears to tap on something that isn't there.

"It says here that we're holding a special table for Mr. Tomiki, a good friend of ours. He hasn't arrived yet, but I'll show you to it."

She leads you into the club through a large open area and into a more intimate side room with fewer tables and less noise. She indicates a private booth along the back wall and hands you a hard copy menu, which is also available in AR.

"Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?"

---------------

After about 20 minutes Tomiki finally arrives. He enters the same way you did but stops along the way to say hello to someone you hadn't noticed before. The other man is also Japanese and appears to be in his mid-forties. He wears an older business suit without a tie and dark glasses that just barely fail to conceal a scar across his right eye. You have a distinct feeling that you've seen the man somewhere before, and while you watch them converse you try to imagine him a little younger without the sunglasses and scar. Pulling up the image you snapped earlier that day you immediately recognize him as the third man in Tomiki's fishing picture.

The two old friends talk for a few minutes and the stranger introduces Tomiki to a few other Japanese business men he's sitting with. Finally Tomiki shakes his hand and thanks him profusely before coming over to sit down at your booth.

[DireRadiant]

International District, Monday 17 February 2070, ~ 1900

"Kurita."

Slowly he brought his hand up and tilted his white stetson back over his dark kinky hair as he smiled broadly and scanned the woman admiringly.

Suddenly he pointed to one of the wall images, "Well, if it isn't the Cattle Queen of Montana herself."

"oooh, and that's Lili Von Schtupp from Blazing Saddles!", as he looked at another one.

[pragma]

"Nice Digs," Guy muttered half to the dwarf next to him and half to the air. He surveyed the pictures as Bart worked his charm on Bombshell. He idly fingered the Star of David hanging between his crucifix and peace symbol. It was a nervous tic -- he was growing concerned that his nicest jeans (no holes he knew of) and an organic, fair trade, cruelty free hemp shirt would leave him underdressed.

Almost out of habit he probed for wireless traffic, scanning for and triangulating hidden nodes -- they were usually the ones to pay attention to -- and getting a feel for what the local matrix had to offer.

[crizh]

International District, Monday 17 February 2070, ~ 1900

Petwo glanced up at Guy 'Sorry, say what? Distracted by the blond....' and winked.

He smoothed the lapels of the charcoal pin-stripe suit he was wearing and adjusted the strange concoction of feathers and chicken bones in his buttonhole.

Harbor Island Seattle, Monday 17 February 2070, ~ 1800

He peered down at the dirty dayglo orange jumpsuit he was wearing. Not too professional. Perhaps something more Cosa Nostra, hmmm.

His brow wrinkled and furrowed and his eyes glazed over a milky white. The tough ballistic fibres of his jumpsuit started to morph and flow, changing colour as they moved, within moments he looked like he'd just walked out of Vashion Island having blown a bomb on the latest 'Gangsta' line of suits.

The furrows faded and a disconcerting toothy grin took their place. He pulled what looked a black cloth coif from an inside pocket and cracked it like a whip. It solidified into a solid black disc which Petwo span jauntily between his palms before snapping it out into a top hat.

His grin broke into a deep, throaty, Eddie-Murphyesque laugh for a second before he once again folded it flat and tucked it under his arm. Quickly, he hurried off the deck and down the steps after the others on the dock.

International District, Monday 17 February 2070, ~ 1900

Peering around the Bombshell he took in they're meeting place.

Yes, Guy, very retro. I think I will blend in nicely here.

That laugh again.



Harbor Island Seattle, Monday 17 February 2070, ~ 0800

He counted through the shells he had enchanted the past few days. Satisfied he tucked them into a small leather pouch of somewhat suspicious looking origin.

Not a bad few days work, but today something different. I will not go to a meet on dry land without backup.

He bowed to the centre post and slowly began an ancient chant beseeching the Loa to send him a spirit to aid him in this enterprise. This would be the easy bit, the long ceremony bargaining for more substantial aid would take all day and would be thoroughly exhausting. Still better safe than sorry and there was plenty time before the meet.


International District, Monday 17 February 2070, ~ 1900

Petwo smiled at the vision in blond and red. Mmm fraises et creme. Bonsouir, enchante Mademoiselle.

[BlackHat]

International District, 17th February 2070 1900

Carter spent a while digging up the nicest outfit he could find on the ship - which seemed to be an arbitrary choice. When he returned to the rest of the crew, it wasn't readily apparent that he had done anything to change his appearance at all. He headed ashore, with the rest of the group, letting those more familiar with the International District lead the way. He also didn't jump up to do any talking at the door. It wasn't his contact they were going to meet - or the contact of one of his contacts - so, he preferred to keep a low profile. Since he was unarmed, he didn't get a lot of hassle, but, like the others, he became sure that he would stick out like a sore thumb here.

[Method]

Team:

Bombshell surveys your party with a look of uncertainty, but quickly regains her perfect composure. She seems genuinely charmed by Bart's childlike appreciation for classic western icons.

"If you like those we have a great portrait of Betty Hutton over by the stage, although she isn't in her classic Annie Oakley costume..." She pauses to access her AR guest list. "Mr. Kurita has been looking forward to your visit. But it looks like one member of your party is running late?"

[DireRadiant]

International District, Monday 17 February 2070, ~ 1900

"I can just picture her in a nice set of buckskins."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be along soon."

[TheOneRonin]

International District, Monday 17 February 2070, ~ 1900

The Robo-Cab™ trundled to a stop at The Strip House, breaking briskly right outside the front door. A harried looking Desmond virtually leaped out of the back, easily catching his balance on the slick plasphalt in front of the club. When he peered up at the front door, he spotted the disapproving looks from his friends, who had already made it through the line of patrons waiting to gain entrance to the exclusive restaurant.

Des flashed the same winning smile he used every time he was late, which inevitably elicited a chorus of eye-rolls from his teammates. 'Not like me being late is something new. Bahh, they'll forget all about it as soon as the first round of drinks makes it to our table,' he thought to himself.

Good evening gentlemen! Looks like I'm right on time!

[Method]

Guy:

With a thought you activate the array of microprocessors built into your head and the room lights up with virtual ebb and flow of data traffic. You start to glance around with enough feigned curiosity to convince any casual observer that you are enjoying the framed photos as much as the black cowboy.

The public node is pretty typical for a club- AR menus, adverts for drink specials, a library of virtual background music, etc. There is an ARRO tagged to each photo that pulls up a bio on the starlet and a few media clips of her movies. A waitress agent informs you that it can take the form of any of them, in case you'd like to order a drink from Louise Brooks, Jane Fonda or Angelina Jolie. Sifting through a sea of interpersonal networking traffic and other spam you scan the local wireless environment for anything unusual, but nothing really jumps out at you. Satisfied that nothing seems amiss, you wait patiently with the group.

[pragma]

The heavy encryption on the burst transmission from Guy's commlink, relying on a few deeply entangled photons and prime numbers so mind-bogglingly large that they rendered generations of number theorists nearly autistic, was probably unnecessary. A little caution went a long way in his business. His brain relayed the message:

<<There's not much sec we don't see guys. Looks legit.>>

He turned to the hostess. "That's the last of us, our party's groovy."

[Method]

Team:

"Alright boys, follow me." Bombshell sashays out ahead of the group and leads you through the busy club and into a more intimate side room with fewer tables and less noise. Stopping at a secluded booth under a unusual portrait of Theda Bara, she bows a little and announces your arrival. �Kurita-san, these are the men you’ve been waiting for.� Her Japanese like everything else is flawless.

Kurita glances up and scans the group from behind his dark sunglasses and a haze of cigarette smoke. With a motion of his hand he waves away the two Japanese businessmen sitting with him, and they scurry out of the booth to make room for the team.

�Please, have a seat.� he says in a gruff voice, extinguishing a spent cigarette and taking out another. �Can my hostess bring you gentlemen anything to drink? Its on the house.�

Kurita is a middle aged Japanese man of average height and build. He looks like the kind of guy that always wears a suit but never a tie and he has an air of stoicism about him. His dark sunglasses barely fail to conceal a scar that runs across his right eye. He lights his new cigarette and takes in the motley crew sitting before him.

"My associate Mr. Kawamori tells me that you gentlemen have certain marketable skills that might be of use to an individual in my line of work. He gave you a very good referral, Mr. Connelly and said he's heard good things about the company you keep." He takes a long drag of his cigarette and produces a holopic from his lapel pocket. "I'm sure your time is as valuable as mine, so I'll get right to the point."

He slides a holopic across the table. The image is of a young looking Asian elf in a bad oversized suit and shades. He stands in front of a run down strip mall and appears to be posing for the picture and doing his best to look cool. "That young man is Billy Chan. He's a small-time street hustler who would like very badly to find an "in" with the local Triads. It seems Mr. Chan has seized upon an opportunity to impress them by arraigning an illegal shipment into Seattle within the week." He pauses and takes another drag. "I'd like to teach young Mr. Chan a lesson about ambition..."

-------------------

Lidralyn:

Tomiki is nervous. He downs his first drink before the scantly clad waitress can even step away from the table and orders another. In the rigid hierarchical etiquette of Japanese culture anything you say while drunk is (mostly) forgiven. You get the distinct impression he's about to say some things that he shouldn't.

"Thanks for coming, Lidralyn. I know this is a little unorthodox, but I can't be too careful... there is my family to think about." You can see the obvious concern in his eyes. "There's something big going on inside the company. There are rumors that an important investigation is going to be assigned to our section, and they're even talking about bringing in outside personnel from Los Angeles." He glances around the club nervously for a moment and then continues his flight of ideas. "I have reason to believe that there may be a cover up going on- something happened at a secret research facility and the company is trying to sweep it under the rug. I'm even starting to think that Bob Johnson's death might not have been an accident..."

[TheOneRonin]

Desmond lounges back in the plush seating of the booth, making himself comfortable. Never one to turn down an offer of hospitality, Des turns to the hostess and flashes his wry grin. "Aye love, I'll have a Rob Roy with a twist o'lemon, if ye'd be so kind."

After placing his drink order, Des graciously accepts the compliment thrown his way by Mr. Kurita. 'Greg rarely hands out praise like that...the Redding job must have really paid off. Mental note...push for a discount on guns and ammo next time we talk.'


Des casually glances at the holopic while Kurita explains the job.
"So...exactly what kind of 'lesson' did ya have in mind, Mr. Kurita?"

[Lidralyn]

Lidralyn orders a drink and sits back casually, "Well this is what we do my friend, If Mitsuhama never needed to have anything fixed for them then we wouldn't have a job...please, continue"

[BlackHat]

As the waitress passed by, Carter put his own order down. "Yeah, go on." His face was all smiles, but his tone was informal, and just a little bit sharp - it wasn't difficult to see he wasn't as happy as he would like Mr. Kurita to think. The expression didn't sit well with some of the crew. Carter was a pretty laid back guy, and there wasn't much he wouldn't consider for the right price. Seeing him squirm was a sure sign that the Capitan was getting a real bad feeling about this. "I had the impression that you wanted us to bring something into Seattle, discretely. If you're looking to stop somebody else from doing the same, I know some guys in Harbor Patrol that I could put you in touch with." He phrased the sentence as a reasonable suggestion, but Carter was really just probing for more information. Specifically, although he could think of a number of reasons why Mr. Kurita might not want to get the cops involved, Carter wanted to hear one of them, and maybe use it as leverage.

[Method]

Kurita responds to Des' question with a wry smile. "'Be careful what you wish for', 'There is always a bigger fish', 'Don't brag about moving illegal swag into my city without cutting me in'. You know, life lessons for an up-and-coming amateur..."

Sensing Carter's uncertainty he explains a bit more. "I think that due to the nature of this shipment it would be wise not to involve any authorities. Besides, if you 'know' some guys on the Harbor Patrol, chances are other people 'know' them as well. I'd prefer to handle this more discretely, which is why I was hoping to hire some non-local talent. At this point the Triads aren't aware of Mr. Chan's plan. I think we would all prefer to keep it that way." He leans back from the table a little and takes another drag from his dwindling cigarette. "Mr. Kawamori assured me that your crew was versatile enough to handle this kind of thing. Perhaps he was mistaking?"

[BlackHat]

Carter seemed put at ease with Mr. Kurita's examples, and his assurance that the triads weren't already aware of Mr. Chan's plan. "No, no. You want to show somebody the ropes, we're your men."

[Method]

Lidralyn:

Tomiki seems somewhat more at ease listening to your reassurance. He takes a big breath and continues. "Well I guess you're right about that. That is why we took this job, right? To root out the truth in all its ugliness?". The waitress arrives with your drinks and he takes another healthy swig. "Alright then... A few days ago I received a disturbing message from a friend of mine, Hiroshi Tada who you saw in that picture today. I haven't seen him in a year or two, not since he took over a new position within MTR and was moved to a secure location to do research. Anyway, in this message he seemed distraught... delirious or something and he was rambling on about seeing his little girl and needing my help. The thing is his little girl, my niece, died years ago." He pauses for a moment and seems far away. "I know Hiroshi isn't crazy so there must be something more going on..." he says, almost to himself.

"Well I haven't been able to reach him since, and needless to say this raised my suspicion. During his message he used an acronym- 'MDMH'. I did some digging and it appears that the company spent an incredible amount of money between 2061 and 2062 developing something called the Mitushama Deep-sea Mining Habitat. The thing is, as far as I can tell the company shut down all operations there in '62. And whats even more odd- starting in '63 all data relating to the MDMH was classified by the corporation. I'm convinced that is where my friend is, but I don't know why.

"The upper management have called a meeting this Thursday to discuss a special investigation. Like I said there's talk that they are bringing in some expert or specialist or something from Los Angeles. Chances look pretty good that our section will get the assignment, and should that happen you will by lead man." He tips his glass in your direction and throws it back. "In the meantime, I need you to find out everything you can about the MDMH. Do you think you can help me?"