IC: Post or Die, Lifelines, and deadlines Options

[Jason Packer]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:04 PM, Elliot's Restaurant, Pier 60, Seattle

<<ElliotsRestaurant: @KittyKane Your table is ready - please meet the head waiter in the entry.>>

Amber sent her acknowledgement to the Matire d' station as she made her way into the restaurant proper, simultaneously fuming at Leapus for his perverse sense of humor. Half a dozen Mafia quality false SINs he'd acquired for her and every one of them with a name that wouldn't be out of place on a simsense porn star.

At just eight o'clock, she was a bit early for dinner, if she wanted to be part of the elite of the club scene, but it had been hard enough, and expensive enough, to get the reservations to Elliot's on short notice, and she didn't to be too late when things really started happening at Dante's or Infinity, anyway. It had cost her more than she liked - 50 to the valet to keep the chipheads away from her car, another 50 to the doorman to get her on the VIP list, and a cool 100 to the Maitre d' to get her a table with a view onto the pier itself.

She graced the waiter with a beaming smile as he showed her to the table and pushed in her chair for her. She perused the wine list and dawdled as she did. It didn't pay to be in too big of a hurry - all the better to be seen on the scene, after all.

[Sephiroth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:04 PM, Redmond in astral space

Jovan's ethereal form frowned to himself at the news of severe injury. He hadn't seen Professor carrying any kind of blade earlier, so the victim must either be Thirty or the newest one, this Acme person. A tiny part of himself hoped for a second that the victim would survive; not because he would miss them or grieve over their death, of course, but rather because their deaths were so ... unnecessary to this job. Such apathetic brutality these shadows harbor.

I presume it is materialized in some sort of serpentine form, correct? Follow the link from the spirit back to its conjuring magician. Now, if not sooner. Once you find the summoner, even if you see that he or she is about to disrupt you, you must immediately send me what you see of his aura through our mental link. Immediately, understand?

Elemental. A spirit is attacking the aforementioned ground vehicle whose pursuer you spied upon earlier. If it is still present when you get there, then beat it back to its native metaplane, but do so in such a way as to give my watcher time to follow the link back to the spirit's summoner.

[Red-ROM]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:04 PM, Redmond

The slithering spirit swayed for a moment, gazing at Acme and his chanting. The link between this spirit and its summoner was weakening. Jovan's watcher found the wavering link and made off towards its source. Ferret punched the Snake's tail but it barely noticed. Crew finally pops open the back of the van and he and Strawberry spill out onto the street. Rusty is pinned under the beast's midsection. He's struggling to pull his cattle prod out of his poncho. The Black truck that the team had been pursuing is reaching the shop and save parking lot, and so is Oswald's glider.

[Acme]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:04 PM, Redmond

"I said look at me, Hiss!" Acme snarled out. His face was getting more animalistic as he kept his banishing ritual going, humming under his breath as he eyes went to a full amber coloring, his black hair beginning to wash out into a brown with tan and grey highlights. He made too backhand the spirt as part of the ritual. "Get out of here, your summoner is wasting your time!"

[Saint Sithney]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:04 PM, Oswald's Rover, East Redmond

<<@Yacht Club: They're buying time. We've got to make them think they've got it or they'll come right back at you with another spook. Meantime, they just walked into my crosshairs.>>

<<Oh what the hell? You got made? Hunker down; I'll have reinforcements on your position in ten.>>

[Acme]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:04 PM, Redmond

Acme was slammed back into the side of the van with the spirit's counterattack, seeing stars from the power of its hatred towards the runners. Several vessels burst in his nose, dripping on his shirt as he groaned, holding his head from the draining that the serpent spirit dished out. "Ffff....aarghh.." was about all he could breathe out as he just stopped from banging loudly into the side wall. His totem's features were still evident, but he was getting quite tired already. "Fuck... you're pissing me off now..."

[Notsoevildm]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:04 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Frag, we're all gonna die! thought Ferret as the spirit knocked Acme into the side of the van.

Struggling left-handed with his seatbelt, he finally managed to free himself. Then, climbing up onto his seat, he launched himself into the back of the van with a screech.

"Death from above!"

[Red-ROM]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:05 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Only a dwarf would have room for a flying attack in a crowded van, Ferret sails over the seat onto the spirit's back with his spur. The giant serpent evaporates as quick as it had appeared. Rusty pulled up his weapon as the Snake vanished from on top of him and he looked around in confusion. Crew was running down the street while Strawberry was frozen with indecision. Thirty lay face down on the seat, not moving. The air elemental arrives to find his last duty unfulfilled. The spirit has been dispatched already sir.

The watcher that sought the spirit's master spoke once before he was destroyed, The mage is far to the west, in the city. a Building...

[pbangarth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:05 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

"Strawberry! The snake is gone! Get back into the van!" Professor shouts. "We'll collect Crew, too, if we can."

He collects his wits and looks to Thirty, drawing out his medkit. It looks bad.

[pbangarth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:05 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Hastily putting gauze patches on Thirty's neck wounds and setting the medkit to analyze Thirty's state, Professor comes to a realization.

Great Grampa was right. All my life I have resisted his words, "Sometimes, kid, ya gotta solve a problem with your fists, not your mind." I don't know how many times he told me in his last few months about that swordsman in the Cairo market. I rejected it all. But here I am, blood and guts spilling around every corner, and the best I can do is patch up the holes in my friends.

If I am to hunt down the bastard who framed me, I have to enter his world. Not half-assed as I have done, but adapt, improvise, become.

When it is over, will I be able to return? Will I hate what I have become?

[Acme]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:05 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Groaning as he peeled himself off of the side of the van, the shaman coughed out, wiping the blood leaking from his nose with the back of his hand. "That thing kicked way too hard," he muttered. Coyote had always admonished him that he spent too much focus on getting the gifts of the spirits without dealing with them directly. It was a bad habit of his, saying he respected them too much to try and whistle them up like a dog, but times like this just hammered home that he needed to study spirits more, that even if he didn't summon them it would help better in these situations... He let out a long breath, just trying to make the ringing in his ears go away.

[Red-ROM]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:08 PM, Elliot's Restaurant, Pier 60, Seattle

Amber's ears couldn't help but pick out two voices in the restaurant speaking German. While it's a common enough language, it's rare enough Seattle to stand out. A few tables behind her a woman and a man were having a very serious chat. The woman was quietly irate,"Warum Sie würde, bringen Sie das hier(Why would you bring that here)?"The man responded casually,"The whole body would have been tacky don't you think? We can have a proper discussion when I get my tea. You should relax, this is not some runner bar. These people are tending to their own affairs."

[Red-ROM]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:06 PM, Redmond
Oswald watched the other team from his blimp. The driver of the SUV pulled out a large case and went to the helicopter. He was human, and he and the ork pilot seemed to be working on the instrument panel of the downed bird. the second ork was waiting in the truck. There was still no sign of their friend inside the store. At least not from the blimp's vantage point.

Strawberry stood confused, too scared to move, while Crew was fading away at full speed. Rusty called out to the girl,"Come on hon, yer better off in here. I'll look out for ya". He looked at Thirty, laying there, barely breathing, and hoped he was right.

[J. Packer]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:09 PM, Elliot's Restaurant, Pier 60, Seattle

Any other time, Amber would be hoping to be noticed, but just now her instincts were telling her to be just as boring and normal as she possibly could. Casually, she set her ear recording unit to operation, feeding the data into the storage in her data jack. While she continued to play the part of the vacuous girl who couldn't decide on which wine to have with her meal, she focused her real attention on the couple, even going so far as to figure out an excuse to look their way and get a visual recording to go along with the voices.

[Notsoevildm]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:05 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Ferret looks Acme over. He doesn't look too badly hurt, mainly just shaken up.

"See if you can help the Prof with Thirty." Still facing the rear doors, he jabs a thumb towards the front of the van, unwilling to look back to see just how badly injured Thirty was.

He then moves to the back of the van in time to see Crew disappear around the corner. He retracts the spur and holds out a trembling hand towards Strawberry. He tries to keep his voice soft, but his words come out rough, mixed with anger and sadness.

"Rusty's right. The spirit's gone. You'll be safer in here than out there in the street. We'll get you guys somewhere safe, then deal with these fraggers ourselves."

[Red-ROM]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:06 PM, Redmond

The fall of twenty grenades was so ironically quiet. The few clinking sounds on the pavement barely registered in the ears of the mercenaries before the force of the explosions evaporated them from this world. The truck and helicopter both were shredded, their fuel tanks erupting into fireballs. pieces of shrapnel flew out across the parking lot and stuck into walls and cars and a few people as well.
Strawberry reluctantly returned to the van, pausing a moment at the distant thundering sound of the explosions. Professor was just getting the medkit hooked up to Thirty. His vitals were very low, and there was a suspected poison in his system the machine couldn't Identify. The skin around the wounds was purple and yellow and he had broken into a cold sweat.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:09 PM, Elliot's Restaurant, Pier 60, Seattle

Amber watched her waiter as he passed, using him as an excuse to turn her head. She saw the back of a blond woman's head facing a man in a fine, yet outdated, tuxedo, including a top hat. He was dressed perfectly well for this kind of establishment, but at the same time seemed absolutely absurd. Most people would think rich and eccentric, she supposed. He looked up at her as she called to the waiter for a fresh water. She continued to follow their conversation from afar.

"I would still choose your words carefully my friend, just as a professional" replied the woman.
"Of course, my dear lady, of course. So it appears that our mutual associates little side venture has caused quite the mess." said the man while he fixed his tea.
"Agreed, but it looks to be ironing out, I just hope my team doesn't come up short on manpower because of this, I'm running out of new talent" The woman sounded a little tired with that last remark.

[J. Packer]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:09 PM, Elliot's Restaurant, Pier 60, Seattle

Amber is nothing if not impulsive, so when the jauntily dressed gentleman makes eye contact with her, she tips him a saucy wink before appearing to go back to her menu. When the waiter passes next, she places an order from the light bites portion of the menu, but is so intent on the conversation behind her, and the possibility of the blond being in need of "talent," that she can't remember what she's ordered mere minutes later.

[Acme]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:05 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

"I'll... mmmnngh... see what I can do," he offers, but barely moves over. Where Ferret would just see him as banged up, Prof could see that he was weakened by the attack on the spirit. His eyes were half-lidded and he was holding the side of his head as he looked over Thirty. "Whatcha need done?" he asked, holding it together.

[pbangarth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:05 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Professor looks at the haggard elf beside him and thinks, "Many a time I've looked like that." "You look like shit.

"My medkit is trying to figure out what that spirit snake injected into Thirty. I think I have him stabilized, anyway. I'll set it to continue that in the background so while it searches, I can see what I can do for you. Thanks for sending the spirit home, by the way, I don't know how effective I was."

He attaches a couple more monitors to Acme and waits for the verdict from the machine.

[pbangarth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:06 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Professor tries something:

<<@Oswald: You have any electro-mojo you can send down our way to help me fix Acme's drain? He's looking pretty beaten up form sending the spirit home.>>

[Saint Sithney]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:06 PM, Oswald's Rover, East Redmond

<<@Professor: Well, yeah. I've got a medical shop in the back of my vehicle, but if you've got a kit, just give me its matrix ID and permissions and I'll take care of him from here. I'm fully trained in remote medical operation.

The cargo dropped, Oz sent the small plane on an automatic route around Bellview to circle over the Puget Sound and await further instructions. In the mean time, Oswald shifted his focus back to the blimp to try and survey the site of the bombing.

"Well, I don't know how many of them I got, but I blew the shit out of a few of them. Maybe you've got a spook who can see any survivors? Also, if any of their 'tronics survived the blast, I could try and get their base of operations off that. So, how are you on the idea of pressing the attack?"

[pbangarth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:06 PM, Ferrte's van, East Redmond

"Hang on Acme, I have medical expertise coming through momentarily." Professor sends the medkit address to Oswald.

<<@team: War is like a woman. It disrespects a man who only does half the job. Now that we have attacked, let's finish what we started. I still think Jovan's suggestion of a prisoner is a good one, if we can swing it.>>

[Sephiroth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:04 PM, Oswald's Rover, East Redmond

Jovan gave one more look around the astral scenery, and then returned to his body, the threat posed by the spirit eliminated. "I have returned," he said upon opening his eyes as he looked quickly through his new messages. "I presume you have either already rained death down upon the Vipers or are about to do so, correct? One of the people inside the chopper was able to escape from the cockpit and flee into the nearby store before you got there. I believe he would be an ideal target to capture, no?"

<<@team: The magician who summoned that spirit is holed up in a building far west of here, though I could not verify whether he is in Redmond or outside its boundaries. Is there anything of note in that direction, to the best of your knowledge?>>

[pbangarth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:06 PM, Ferrte's van, East Redmond

<<@Jovan: I don't know.>> That green ooze in Thirty's puncture wounds looks ugly. Professor changes the gauze.

[Red-ROM]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:10 PM, Elliot's Restaurant, Pier 60, Seattle

The man in the top hat smiled at the wink and switched the conversation to English,"Curious indeed, a small Mome has taken a liking to me,"
The woman could barley say,"What?" before he continued.
The man pushed his wispy blond hair back from his pale face and sipped his tea,"Well I believe it is customary to invite this lady to the party... so of course I mustn't you see? I will keep in touch. This reservation is well worth the price of a drink my dear. I wouldn't waste it"
With that he stood, tipped his hat with a bow, and turned for the door.