IC: Post or Die, Lifelines, and deadlines Options

[pbangarth]

02:31 Professor's pad, Seattle

<<@Logo: That's a good lead, chummer. Send me the location info and I'll be happy to send you 500.>>

Professor waits for the info and then transfers 500 nuyen to the standard account for Logo. Then he signals the team on their local network.

<<@Team flag URGENT: Got a location in Glow City for someone using an access ID used in the past for some of Big Daddy's transactions. He's looking for a new SIN. Sounds like something to investigate. I'm still up and available. How should we proceed?>>

[Martin_DeVries_I...]

Heka's Pad, Bellevue - 2:36 AM - September 11, 2071

He was sprawled out in his leather armchair, a glass of merlot in his hand. He swirled the dark liquid in the glass and closed his eyes. Heka relished the feel of the cool leather against his skin--he'd removed his ruined coat and the shirt below as soon as he entered, tossing them aside before moving to the kitchen--and wanted this night to be over with.

Two messages sat, blinking, in his AR view. One said 'Urgent.' But he didn't want to deal with them. As far as he was concerned, he was off the clock--and well he deserved it, too, after the way this night turned out. The sort of night that the word "clusterfuck" had been created for.

"What do you think?" he said, flicking his eyes to the dracoform sitting on the couch across the room, coiled up and watching him. The wyvern cocked its head at Heka, looking at him with its glittering yellow eyes. It spilled from the couch and hovered towards him. It landed next to his chair and rubbed its head against his empty hand; he scratched the black scales, idly, the haptics in his gloves making it feel almost real. Real wyverns probably didn't act like cats, he thought, but a digital wyvern was far more impressive than a fake cat would have been.

Heka sipped the wine, still rubbing the coded dracoform, and finally opened the messages with a sigh. Time was tight enough as it is. If there was anything he could provide then waiting til morning would be a mistake. He read the Urgent message from Professor first, and mulled that over while he skimmed the file from Oswald. Pouring his second glass of wine he pulled up a keyboard in his AR overlay and quickly typed out a message.

<<@Team - Re: SIN - Anyway we can intercept and arrange a meeting to "hand over" his new ID? Job becomes a lot easier if he comes right to us.>>

[pbangarth]

Professor's Pad, Bellevue - 2:37 AM - September 11, 2071

<<@Team: That sounds good. And up Oswald's alley. Whaddaya think, spaceman? In the meantime, should we stake out the coffin hotel? I don't have wheels at the moment, but I would be willing to take on that chore with one or more others.>>

[HugeC]

End of the Earth Nightclub, Downtown Seattle, 1:47 AM, Friday, September 11, 2071

Thirty leans back and strokes his goatee thoughtfully while he considers Cyrus' words. Then with a grin, he says, "I look 'normal' now, eh? I bet I could still spook some of the sarariman out there on the dance floor. But drek, I guess I am pretty normal compared to the Stilettos. Mutants, right?" Then jokingly he adds, "No way a guy as good-looking as me will fit in as one of them. Sounds like a little costuming is in order before I go poking around there."

As he mentions costuming, Thirty's mind is cast back to his ganger days for a moment. He used to put on skull face-paint and dress in black and orange leathers when he ran with the Halloweeners. He was constantly pissed off back then; mad at his father, mad at Renraku and the Red Samurai, and mad at himself. When he finally got over his rage, being in the gang lost its meaning, and it seemed silly to get dressed up like that in an attempt to scare people. Still, he understood what it meant to gangs like the Stilettos to show their colors; it offered a sense of belonging that was difficult to find in mainstream culture. They wouldn't take kindly to it if they found out Thirty was masquerading as one of them. He would have to tread carefully in Redmond.

Coming back to the present, Thirty raises his glass and says, "Thanks for the download, Cy. I imagine if I'd rolled down there dressed like this, I'd have gotten clobbered." He stays a bit longer at the club to see if Cyrus has anything else he wants to talk about before heading out.

Thirty's Comet, Downtown Seattle, 2:00 AM

Once back in his car, Thirty composes a quick message to the team. <<@Yacht Club: Confirmed that Twisters owner hires out runners. We should talk to him, but we'll have to take some precautions going there, it's a rough neighborhood. Can we meet to discuss our options? I'm still up if you guys are, or tomorrow is fine.>>

[Saint Sithney]

Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett, 2:19 am

Once Oswald had finished checking and sending the message, he noticed that there was a flashing light in his goggles. "Huh. Must have got a message from the Professor. If anyone can dig something up quickly, it's an archeologist! Heh heh heh."
<<@Yacht Club: Confirmed that Twisters owner hires out runners. We should talk to him, but we'll have to take some precautions going there, it's a rough neighborhood. Can we meet to discuss our options? I'm still up if you guys are, or tomorrow is fine.>>
"Well I'll be damned... this Trog has a work ethic.." Oswald mused. "But you know what they say, the harder a Trog works.. the worse he smells... hahaha!! You hear that one Danny?"
"..mm-what's-so-funny-mm.." the robot hummed from the distance.
"Hmm? Oh, I just zinged that Trog so good!"
"..mm-oh-that's-a-relief-mm..
"Ha- Heh... Yeah.. Guess I'd best respond before he gets all 'fe-fi-fo-fum' on me."

<<@Thirty: I'm about 25 miles from Redmond as the blimp flies, but it seems like it would be easier to organize everything virtually first. I've sent you a key to sign up to our own personal VPN for off the grid texts and pictures. It's an old protocol, so there's basically no chance anyone will be able to access it without knowing it's there. Anyway, I don't know if you've had a chance to look at what I dug up on this Long Legs guy, but he seems smart enough for a thud-skull to not pick this of all times to burn his bridges. What I'm sayin, is who decides it's a good time to hide out when he has to babysit three giant-ass container trucks? Guy is probably a week dead and someone else is sitting on our target. By the way, some guy named Viper12 was looking to start shit with our missing underpass-dweller. Sounds like a rival rigger. Could be useful on his home turf.>>

[Martin_DeVries_I...]

Heka's Pad, Bellevue - 2:38 AM - September 11, 2071

<<@Team: I've got a car. Professor and I could hit the coffin--in the morning, I hope, once we're all rested. I've room for one more if anyone wants to come along.>>

Yes, the morning. No way in hell he was going out again tonight. Heka fully intended to have digested a pot of coffee and the morning newsfax before he even got into the shower...

[Saint Sithney]

Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett, 2:31 am

Oswald had spent the last few minutes making a mental inventory of basic wireless consumer electronics in his warehouse which he might consider disposable enough to be used as a throwaway node for team VR meetings. "I'll meet you in the coffee machine in half an hour!" he joked to himself. Suddenly, action!

<<@Team flag URGENT: Got a location in Glow City for someone using an access ID used in the past for some of Big Daddy's transactions. He's looking for a new SIN. Sounds like something to investigate. I'm still up and available. How should we proceed?>>
<<@Team - Re: SIN - Anyway we can intercept and arrange a meeting to "hand over" his new ID? Job becomes a lot easier if he comes right to us.>>
<<@Team: That sounds good. And up Oswald's alley. Whaddaya think, spaceman? In the meantime, should we stake out the coffin hotel? I don't have wheels at the moment, but I would be willing to take on that chore with one or more others.>>

After thinking on it a moment, Oswald replied.

<<@Team: If you've got the access ID, I can stalk the owner from up to 10 klicks out. I've still got my blimp set up for manned flight, so I'd have to stay on the guy physically. Probably a good thing I'm set up for this. Otherwise, staking out glow city at 2:30 in the morning sounds like a great way to get eaten by mutants. I watch the news. I know what it's like down there.. Intercepting the ID is a bit too physical for me. I don't know who the courier might be, so I couldn't spoof a message from him. But, if this guy's node suddenly goes dark and a new node with a new name pops up in its place, I'm all over it. What time do all of you want me to bug you in the morning? I'll start looking pretty conspicuous come daybreak unless I manage to find a good perch on the nearby mountains... I guess I might as well be off.. unless anyone has some other pressing concerns that I can't address from the air?>>

[pbangarth]

Professor's Pad, Bellevue - 2:40 AM - September 11, 2071

<<@Team: Alright, rest it is, then. Let's be ready to go at 09:30. Heka, thanks for the offer of the ride. Let me know when you can be here {{address of Professor's pad}} once you leave your place at 09:30. Oswald, great idea for the virtual stakeout. We'll let you know when we are on the way. If someone wants to be a third in Heka's vehicle, call in by 09:30. Night all.>>

Professor sets the commlink to wake him by 09:00, though he seriously doubts he will sleep that late. Of course... after tonight....

[HugeC]

Thirty's Comet, I-5 Southbound, 2:36 am

Thirty has fallen asleep on the way home from End of the Earth. So far, his snoring has drowned out the sound of his commlink's gentle beeping as messages from the team have come in.

Ahead of his Comet on the freeway, a small pothole about two inches deep and six inches across is there in the middle of the lane, cloaked in darkness since the freeway light overhead has gone out. It just so happens that this pothole's far edge is almost perfectly perpendicular to the direction of travel on the freeway. To the Comet's radar sensor, the pothole's edge forms a dihedral, which sends a strong return back to it. The visual sensor can't see anything there, since the area is dark and the car isn't close enough yet for its headlights to illuminate the area. The Comet's dog brain decides that some debris is in the road that may cause damage to the vehicle, so it suddenly slows down and changes lanes to avoid it, simultaneously sending a wireless broadcast to any vehicles that may be nearby that it is taking an emergency action. Of course, it is tracking no nearby vehicles, but it sends the broadcast just the same.

Having been jostled awake by his car's maneuvering, Thirty wipes a little drool off his cheek and sits up to check his location. He brings up an AR interface to his mapsoft, which shows he is still on the I-5, coming up on the I-705 interchange. Almost home. Several messages are waiting in his inbox, and he starts reading them. He gets finished about the time Heka's message arrives, which he also reads. After considering things for a bit, he composes a message of his own.

<<@Team: I'll grab my gear and find a place to park & snooze just outside of Bellevue. That way I can be relatively close by if Oswald needs boots on the ground. Hopefully nobody jacks up my ride while I'm sleeping. ETA 1 hour until I'm on-station. Wake me whenever you need me, Oswald.>>

Thirty stays awake long enough to get back to his apartment, grab Kanjin and his other weapons and gear, and get back in his car for the trip to Redmond. He routes his incoming email alerts through his car stereo system, jacks up the volume, and sets the email client to play a spunky J-pop song by one of his favorite idol singers upon message receipt. He sees Professor's 2:40am message awaiting him, and after reading it, composes a response.

<<@Team: Professor, if it's OK with you, I'll park in your driveway while I zonk. Yours is a much better neighborhood, only a little farther away from where Oswald will be, and we can team up if he needs anything. Send me a message to wave me off, else I'll assume it's OK.>>

Thirty changes his car's destination to Professor's house, and then leans his seat back and shuts his eyes to try and get some sleep.

[Sephiroth]

3:21 A.M., outside Jovan's home, Tacoma
PAN mode: hidden

At this time of night, the street was quiet and unoccupied. A few houses here and there had some lights on, but most houses in this neighborhood were dark and silent, their wageslave owners sleeping soundly after an exhausting 16-hour workday. A small gray cat, slinking its way stealthily along the lawns as it searched for something to eat, was the only living thing he saw. His sensitive ears picked up no sign of nearby vehicles. Time to go.

After setting up his link for ghosting and locking up his house, he set off at a run, heading northeast at a smooth 90 km/h. He moved like a pale shadow in the darkness, swift and unnoticed.

3:23 A.M., Electronics section, Saver's Central, Tacoma
PAN mode: Active

As Jovan's eyes perused the selection of commlink accessories in front of him, he felt vulnerable and out of place in this store. It had been a long time since he had gone out in public. A long time. He didn't like the bright lighting of the place; it made him feel like he was in the sun, like he would start burning any second now. He didn't want to look at anyone else in the store, though thankfully there was almost no one here at this hour. This felt too much like his younger years. This felt too ordinary. He wanted to get this done and get out of here as soon as possible.

After finding a decent-looking sim module and set of trodes, Jovan walked quickly and purposefully to the U-Check counter, letting the products fall gently into the waiting plastic bag. According to the RFID tags in the accessories, the total cost was a decent 150 (IMG:style_emoticons/default/nuyen.gif) ; it wouldn't really put a dent in his funds. He let the cost be deducted from his account, and turned and left without waiting for the AR female clerk's message. By the time she had finished, he had already disappeared into the night.

3:26 A.M., Jovan's home, Tacoma
PAN mode: Passive
Jovan settled into a comfortable armchair in his basement, with his new equipment installed and their RFID tags erased. Let's get this over with, he thought to himself.

<<I am ready. Shall we meet now to discuss the job at hand?>>

[pbangarth]

Professor's Pad, Bellevue - 2:40 AM - September 11, 2071

Professor sets his driveway light to stay on, half intensity, till Thirty's vehicle pulls in. Then the condo will signal the vehicle a welcome and request permission to shut off the light. The environment and all, you know. He adds a message, "The couch is comfortable, and quite big and sturdy, you know. Your choice. Come in for breakfast."

By the time Thirty pulls in, professor is snoring, but the pad is ready to admit his guest and resets the breakfast menu... twelve eggs instead of three. Thirty shouldn't cause any trouble for the wards.

[Red-ROM]

3:26 A.M., Jovan's home, Tacoma

Mrs. Johnson responds to Jovan with an invite to a private chat room on Ghostserv. As Jovan enters the door to the site, he finds himself in the foyer of a luxurious mansion. A woman in a black dress stands by a fireplace in the sitting room. Judging by the decor and the dress, its early 20th century America. A servant escorts Jovan to the sitting room. He seems to be an agent of some sort. The woman offers a greeting and a seat to her guest while she gracefully perches on a chair,"I appreciate your quick response. I don't wish to waste your time, so I'll be brief. I have an operation in progress, and I feel a little short staffed. Currently, It's a team of four. A talented group, but my organization has found that five to six operatives work the most efficiently. I have details on the mission, but the price has been well negotiated and, I am afraid, is firm. Twelve thousand each. If this is not acceptable than we are at an impasse, shall I proceed?"
The woman takes the briefest moment of silence as a yes and continues,"The group is in the process of recovering three truckloads of stolen goods that were to be delivered a week ago. The team that acquired these goods originally has disappeared. We have the faintest of leads on the Rigger who we believe possesses the goods. They are to recover those goods and get them to a boat in Everett. Questions?"

[Sephiroth]

3:26 A.M., Jovan's home, Tacoma

Jovan's icon smiled in his digital chair. He had but two questions; no doubt the group he was joining would be able to elaborate on the other details, if they didn't kill him first. "'This is the short and the long of it.' What information do you have on the original team, and how much time hath we to do this job?"

[HugeC]

Thirty's Comet, outside Professor's Pad, Bellevue - 3:40 AM - September 11, 2071

As the Comet glides into Professor's driveway, Thirty is already sleeping soundly. His commlink pings, and he stirs, but does not awaken. Satisfied that it has reached its programmed destination, the Comet contacts the home node in Professor's house and performs a wireless handshake. It then engages the parking brake and shuts down its powerplant, but leaves the stereo system on, since it has been slaved to Thirty's commlink.

Thirty, who is used to sleeping on a hard mattress meant for trolls, is only slightly more uncomfortable than usual sleeping in the reclined bucket seat. He snores softly, dreaming of things he will not remember when he wakes.

[Saint Sithney]

Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett, 2:55 am

"Hey kitchen! Make me another one of those shitty soybean hamburgers!" Oswald called out from across the warehouse floor.
He had just spent the last 20 minutes winching up one of his Kulls and securing it to the launching stocks wedged in the doors of his rover to hold the light craft over the roof. Four metal poles, secured across the top of the car through the roof ties and with a flat, lubricated surface from front to back (with quick crook in the rear to hold the wings and keep it from sliding off backwards) and he had a launching platform that could work on road or off. Just crank up the propellers, accelerate the car down the local industrial road, quickly stop the vehicle once a good speed has been reached, and the lightweight Kull zips of the roof. Then, in two minutes time, it could easily cover 30 km to drop its payload wherever Oswald needed. The payload in this instance being the 20 slaved HE grenades stuffed in its dual cargo holders and controlled by the Bombing Autosoft or Oswald himself.

As backup plans go, it was overkill, but nothing excels like excess.

Oswald looked it over, basically satisfied. "Oh wait, almost forgot the ropes." he chided himself before retrieving the two tie-downs from the old milk crate by the wall. Each rope clipped to a notch on the Kull's wing and had a large monkey's-fist knot on the other end. Oswald ordered each of the rear windows on the rover to come down, slipped the knots through individually, and rolled the windows back up until the ropes were secured between the Plexiglas and door-frame. That ought to keep it from sliding off too soon.

Food all packed, smoke projector all full of cloud-juice, bottle for pissing in ("I really need to get my flight suit back...") and Oswald was ready to spend the night in the air. He secured his Redline to his hip, checked the bed-sheet he was using to cover the under-mounted sniper rifle from view, and climbed into the cocoon. This time he would be flying over hostile territory, so he took further precautions. Rather than simply jacking into his comlink and slaving the blimp to it, he first loaded all his basic programs onto the blimp, putting the Autosofts into backup, slaved the blimp to his com and just plugged the optical line, usually reserved for diagnostics, straight into his comlink's input jack. Now the blimp wouldn't allow any outside input from wifi sources other than the com, and the com wouldn't be broadcasting to it at all. Satisfied with this level of protection and preparation, Oswald took to the skies.


Oswald's GTS Tower, "Sky-pod," hanging roughly 80m over lower Redmond, 3:10 am
PAN mode: Hidden

<<Alright Poddy, time to find me a thief.>> Oswald commanded the Drone's pilot to begin an extended sweep for Hidden Nodes in the area with its Scan program and electronic Warfare Autosoft. That done, he Browsed for the ID belonging to his target, and within 9 seconds of first ping, he had him. Having established the whereabouts of the target device, he reeled the blimp back from the rotting and run down structure until the node failed to respond. Oswald then stopped and moved a bit further forward until he regained his signal. Giving it a few meters of play, he settled into a dead drift and expelled a touch of smoke to break up his outlines up in the air.

[pbangarth]

Professor's Pad, Bellevue - 4:40 AM - September 11, 2071

Professor rolls restlessly in his sleep. Images pass through his dreams....

{A tent flap opens.... inside two young people are sprawled across a wooden table, papers, maps and books soaked in blood...}

{A figure... elf?... walks out of a mist.... what is he wearing? A clown costume? ... No, but his face is painted... he is angry... }

Professor moans, talks in his sleep... "Who are you?"

[Red-ROM]

Friday, September 11th, 2071, 3:27 AM, Private chat room on Ghostserv

The female persona stared at Jovan with two limpid pools of blue that glowed brighter than the fireplace behind them,"You have about a week to do the job, I have a file with the pertinant information on Big Daddy. The rest of his team will be handeld as a seperate job, that information will be forthcoming at that time, if this mission goes well, and the interest is there.Our concern is the cargo at the moment"

Oswald's GTS Tower, "Sky-pod," hanging roughly 80m over lower Redmond, 3:30 am

Tracking the node through the matrix was simple enough, having the access ID already. But there was some interference when it came to pinning down its physical location. Signals got spotty in Redmond, and the radiation didn't help. Oswald, however, had prevailed, and he now hovered in the night sky, roughly four old fashion football fields away from a group of buildings that contained the target. The target's comm was currently streaming mixed-meta porn in hot sim.

[Sephiroth]

Friday, September 11, 2071, 3:27 A.M., Private chatroom on Ghostserv

"Then the cargo you shall have. I don't believe there is anything else that needs to be discussed. If you can give me a copy of this file and put me in touch with your team," Jovan said with some disdain as he rose from his chair, confident that they wouldn't act like much of a team when it came to him, "then I can let you return to your affairs."

He took a few steps towards the Mrs. Johnsonand bowed civilly, though a savvy observer could detect a hint of arrogance and mockery in his icon's body language. "'Good Night, Good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow,'" the bloodsucker said with a smile and a hint of sarcasm, as he prepared to log off and get to work.

[Notsoevildm]

Thursday, September 10, 2071, 23:27, Parking lot of coffin motel
PAN Hidden

Ferret pulled his van into the coffin motel's parking lot and looked for a secluded spot away from the main entrance. Nowhere in the barrens was really safe to park overnight but the parking lots of motels, fast food joints and 24/7 shopping arcades were a lot safer than a random dark alley.

Then he settled himself as comfortably as possible on the passenger bench seat, wrapping his thin, grubby blanket around him. He closed his eyes and spiralled off into the matrix. He loaded up the latest 'Neil the Ork Barbarian' game and played for a few hours, before jacking out and falling asleep.

[Red-ROM]

Friday, September 11, 2071, 3:28 A.M., Private chatroom on Ghostserv

The woman stood motionless for a moment, as she composed a message to her team
<<@Team: I have procured another set of hands to help in this project. I expect you can bring him up to speed. I have also been informed that Caper has been terminated in a car accident. So we are still a little understaffed. I will try to find another runner, but if any of you have someone in mind, I'm open for suggestions.>>
She forwards Jovan's contact info to the group and returns her attention to the chatroom,"Here is some contact info for the team," As he bows and makes his farewells, the woman has clearly picked up on his arrogance,"I am not impressed with the chatter of horny teenagers, mr. Jovan. Good evening, I will be in touch"

[Notsoevildm]

Friday, September 11, 2071, 08:12, Parking lot of coffin motel
PAN Hidden

Grey light filtering through the van's windscreen rouses Ferret from his slumber. Yawning and stretching, he scratches at the stubble on his chin. He reads the time off the clock floating in the corner of his vision and begins opening multiple AR windows onto the virtual world even as he thinks to himself.

Hmm, I could use a shave. Phew...and I could REALLY use a shower.

Clambering over the bench seat into the back of the van in a practised move, he surveys the chaotic jumble of his worldly goods. Half the rear compartment is taken up by his pimped scooter, the other half with a workbench. Bins of tools, electrical components, chemical bottles and empty food cartons are stacked haphazardly on and around it, mostly held in place with gecko tape. A half (dis)assembled trid player sits at the centre of the bench. Ferret's stomach grumbles as he shifts an empty pizza box off the chair and sits at the bench.

I really should finish fixing that...and get some food.

As he searches through the piles of equipment he checks the news in one window and his mail in another. His inbox is disappointingly empty. For a moment he brings his attention back to the real world, surveying the few items he has gathered in his hands. A credstick with 200 yen, some corp scrip worth about another 150 at current exhange rates and a few tabs of cram worth maybe another 50 if he can find a buyer.

Frag. I need a job.

With the news playing in the background he opens another window and composes a quick message.

<@Beetle: Hey chummer, I'm looking for some work. Preferably some data work if you know what I mean. But hell, the way my finances are right now, if you need some product delivered I'm your dwarf.>

Ferret leans back in the chair letting the matrix envelop him fully. He is a chromed icon of a ferret now, his silver whiskers twitching, the large reflective globes of his eyes drinking in the digital. He scurries off, sniffing for the data that will lead him to the Shadowland server.

[Saint Sithney]

Oswald's GTS Tower, "Sky-pod," hanging roughly 80m over lower Redmond, 3:33 am

Having settled into position for a long night of waiting, Oswald kicked on his coat's massaging liner, dropped into AR and checked his messages.
"Hmmm, which one was that?" Oswald flips though his virtual notes. "Caper... the quiet one's dead? Maybe he just took the advance and ran... I wouldn't blame him, the way these people operate. Pain in the ass meeting that gets blown up regardless.. Shame to see him/her go, but paranoid people are trouble regardless. It seems to me that if you can't trust.. you can't be trusted." Oswald shifted a little in his seat, trying to get comfortable. "Might as well welcome the new guy and set him up on the VPN..."

<<Oswald@Jovan - Greets, Jovan. Name's Oswald. I'm pulling the night shift this evening. I'll go ahead and set you up on our off-Matrix message board. It should have all the information and pictures we've gathered so far. If you're ready to work tonight, ping me back. I'm always hungry for action.>>

Speaking of pictures, Oswald figured he might as well take some shots of the hotel with the drone's long-range camera and indicate which room the com's signal appeared to be coming from. And, speaking of action, he also figured he should check in to see what this node was up to. He kicked on "Nite flights" popped open his soy chips and ordered the Sky-pod to grab up that node's wireless signal...

[Red-ROM]

Friday, September 11, 2071, 03:40, coffin motel in Redmond

What has been called "the coffin motel" is more of a rotten husk of a coffin motel, left to decay and become infested with the human vermin of Redmond. The cost of staying here is having enough cred or intimidation to keep the locals at bay. The weather hasn't turned cold yet, so the building isn't overrun. A few cars in the parking lot still function, but the scrappers are eyeing them for the opportunity to change that. On the second of four floors is a node that is patiently waiting for news of a new identity. Some unknown person lies awake, more than likely masturbating in a four by eight by eight room with a bed.

[HugeC]

Friday, September 11, 2071, 3:28 A.M., Thirty's Comet

As the message from Mrs. Johnson arrives on Thirty's commlink, the stereo speakers begin blaring "Kiba Aru Demo," one of Thirty's favorite songs. A young Japanese woman belts out the vocals with a peppy pop accompaniment.

Anata no kokoro wa,
itsumo shinsetsu,
Kiba aru demo, ai shite iru!

Thirty jolts awake at the sound, and quickly shuts off the incoming message alert. He checks the message from Mrs. Johnson, and composes a reply.

<<@team: Welcome aboard Jovan. I'll let Oswald catch you up on current operations (he's actually awake), but here's a rundown of the rest of the team and skillsets:

• Thirty (yours truly) - Close combat and pistoleer
• Oswald - Rigger, hacker and spaceman
• Heka - Subtle mage
• Professor - Information collection & analysis

Jovan, If you'd be so kind, give us some idea of your specialty in a document on Oswald's VPN, and I'll check it out in the morning.

Oswald, I'm almost to Professor's place, message me if you need me.>>

His eyelids heavy, Thirty sends the message and lets his body collapse back into the seat. He's asleep again in under thirty seconds.

[Red-ROM]

Friday, September 11, 2071, 07:32, Parking lot of coffin motel

The sun rises in over the motel in a haze. Splitting the eyelids of the people who passed out in the street. A general rustling is seen along the broken sidewalks and not quite abandoned storefronts that sprawl in every direction. Some people are just awakening, and others scurry away from the coming day after a busy night. Two messages are on their way to this place through the digital ether. While unrelated, they will bring a group of strangers to know each other quite well.

8:22
As Ferret Probes through the Shadowland nodes He gets an Alert from Beetle for an audio chat. At almost the same time, Oswald finally gets a bite on the signal he's been monitoring. A message coming in under heavy encryption.