IC: Post or Die, Lifelines, and deadlines Options

[Saint Sithney]

11:24 PM "El Viajero", deck-side, Puget Sound

The men had been quite efficient at tying off the dirigible, taking occasional cues from the now-propped-up robot's front speaker.
"Make sure to throw a few more lines over the top of her, boys. When I get out, she's going to try and jump," Oswald warned.

Once they had it properly secured to the aft railings and ties, the man-sized armored box on its rear creaked open and folded up, revealing its rickety cargo. Oswald had naturally proceeded this with a slight blast from the blimp's smoke projector and an audible accompaniment of "Duun... dunn.. dun-da-dun!" from the bot's speaker.
He stepped from the craft slowly, creaks and whirrs alternately coming from him and the ropes which secured his transport, until he finally stood upright and lightly brushed off his stained and charred steampunk-style labcoat. He looked from one of the guards to the other, a smile stretched across his wrinkled face and the twinkling lights of madness played across his eyes. "Haha heh, I can't see shit in this dark. Could you fellas help me to the cabin?"
The men wearily took a hand each and helped the octogenarian work his way over towards the cabin and his damaged robot. "Danny, come stand under this lamp," the old man ordered, and the robot obeyed, grinding and shifting until it stood shakily under a running light. A quick inventory showed several puncture wounds in the superficial torso. The internal batteries had been shifted, but their integral protection had held. The legs were bent slightly, but could be straightened. The whole left arm had been shattered at the elbow. The wrist and hand might be salvaged, but it was hanging from wires, servos fallen loose as if to remind Oswald of the mangled flesh once hanging from his right arm when it too had been shattered in '53. "Oh, Eliot..." Ozzy moaned distractedly. Wait. Eliot.. Mills-Fargo? Why do I.. "Let's.. let's go inside." Oswald said to the guards. "I need to sit down for a moment.."

11:33 PM "El Viajero", cabin, Puget Sound

Oswald entered, head down, lost in the mental exhaustion of trying to remember. The men helped him to a seat and he sank into it, accompanied by the slight whirring of his ancient cybernetic limbs.
"Welcome senior, I assume that is your manservant? We can get you a replacement if necessary, or have him repaired. " The Spaniard said, breaking him from his reverie.
"Hmmm? Oh, yes... He's not so bad off. I can take care of the superficial damage at my shop. Though I do need a new mechanical arm to replace the one that got slagged. Heheh, ha. I do think I saw a spare one out there on the deck though..." Oswald replied, alternating from somber to jovial to dark in his manner. "I see your man is pretty handy with a bandage. Guess things weren't as serious as I thought.. Anybody still need a helping of healing hands?" He punctuated the last part with a slight smile and wiggle of his mechanical fingers.

[HugeC]

Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma, 11:48 PM

Benichi walks the rest of the way to the end of the pier where the men are waiting outside the warehouse. He watches them for any sign of hostility; though he doubts that Cyrus would willingly send him into a trap, he has to assume it is a possibility. Cyrus isn't immune to being leveraged, he thinks. He takes note of the available cover as he approaches, and makes a mental plan for how he will deal with the men he can see should violence suddenly erupt. The closer I get to them, the better, he thinks. As he gets to within conversational distance, he adopts a mild swagger, his expression confident but neutral. He waits for an appropriate lull in their conversation, and with a conspiratorial grin, he says, "I see I'm not the only one working late tonight, eh fellas?"

His smartlink software active, he stands far enough away to see them all, yet close enough to be within a few quick strides. He keeps his hands out of his pockets and at his sides, and his face shows none of his concern as he waits to see what they will do.

[Ellipsis]

11:40 PM "El Viajero", cabin, Puget Sound

"Well the replacement gear is surely appreciated friend as I'm not exactly rolling in it right yet. I could get used to this treatment, but I'm starting to wonder just how big the problems we're going to run into are considering the treatment." He examines his now bandaged arm and tugs remembers to try and sit in a ladylike position, gives up and moves to the benches finally.

Hans shakes his head slightly at the old man's gallows humor One carrot short of a salad this one is, I wonder if he's really serious about the surgery he claims to be able to do or if he is just senile and playing at it? Probably best not to find out. and he inches just slightly away from the gently whirring geriatric. He clears his throat quietly and says in a overly theatrical and weary voice, "Well, since we're not talking dollars at the moment I'll take up that drink now if we could a couple fingers of scotch might help smooth this all over for me..."

[pbangarth]

11:40 PM "El Viajero", cabin, Puget Sound

Oswald's entry get's Professor thinking. The old guy looks familiar. Professor scours his prodigious memory, but can't find the answer immediately. This irks him. Something about science... space maybe. It has to be old though... yeah... look at the guy. He makes a mental note to do some research later. Or... he could just ask him.

He pours a glass of water from the service in the room, and ambles over to the old guy, glancing at the drone as he passes it. He addresses the old man as he offers a glass of water, "I've seen you somewhere before... in the news.. science section , maybe. You ever have anything to do with space science?"

[Red-ROM]

Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma, 11:48 PM

The guys at the door hardly seem to care about the newcomer. At least that's the impression they give. The Asian faced man on the bike responds,"If you're lookin for work, your ships coming in. Just wait inside". He then nods to the guy on the crate, who opens the door. Up close, the ork can spot the Vibroblade under the talker's coat, and the Uzi III with the laser sight tucked behind the crate. While they don't seem to be taking their job too seriously, they are carrying some hardware. Inside the building are two docks with boat lifts in front of open hanger doors looking out on to the black and starry water. Three more Triad members wander around the interior impatiently waiting for the boat to arrive. They seem a little more alert. and a little more armed. The girl in red leather chaps and black jacket has a rifle slung over her shoulder like it was the wild west. The two men, in less flashy street clothes, both carried assault rifles.

11:40 PM "El Viajero", cabin, Puget Sound

The Johnson breathes just a hint easier as his guests begin to talk some. He turns his attention to the...Lady of the group?.. He smiles and rises to fetch the scotch himself,"My apologies, this isn't the real thing. But it's a top shelf impersonation. We will reach the docks in about ten minutes, and I assure you we will find a number we are all comfortable with"

[HugeC]

Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma, 11:49 PM

Benichi nods politely to the biker that spoke and heads through the door, less concerned now about the possibility of a trap. It's probably a good thing they didn't ask my name, I'm not sure Thirty is a number they'd like, he thinks.

Once inside, he greets the interior guards with a nod and a casual wave. "Evening. I'm here to meet the boat," he says. With some time to kill and nothing to do, he finds something handy to lean against, then half-folds his arms, using his right hand to idly stroke the goatee on his chin, his left hand tucked into the crook of his right elbow. He fixes his gaze upon the water outside the building, and for a moment he really is watching the waves, but then he lets his eyes defocus, and he watches the guards with his peripheral vision from behind his mirrorshades.

He can't help but glance at the woman in the chaps a few times when she turns away from him. Maybe she's from the NAN, he thinks, or maybe she just watches wild west trids too much. The sudden realization that he himself watches far more samurai trids than most people would call healthy makes him smile. Maybe she's just my kind of crazy, he thinks. But then he reminds himself that the picking-up-women portion of the evening is already over. He goes back to idly watching the guards as the minutes tick by.

[Saint Sithney]

11:40 PM "El Viajero", cabin, Puget Sound
- - PAN mode: Hidden

Oswald scanned the faces of the cabin's occupants. Being here made him uncomfortable. New faces. New names. So many already hanging on the walls of his mind. After a while, a body gets so that he can't invest any more energy into people. He liked these rebel types though. The shadow walkers. Just like that Native fella by the wall, these types earned their names. They weren't assigned by birth. Their names were stories. He would learn their stories. He would take their names, and he would put them on the wall of his memory. He wanted to make them solid. Even if they died, like that one up top, he would make them real. None of them felt need for his offer though. "It's just as well. These drugs aren't keeping me as fresh as I might like."

He looked over to the other older gentleman, a glance passing and passed back. "I've seen you somewhere before... in the news.. science section , maybe. You ever have anything to do with space science?" The man in the stetson asked him.
"Hrmm? Yes, yes. Commander Oswald Shankles. United States Astronaut. Doctor of Medicine, Chemistry and Physics... I've.. been.. Out of circulation.." He paused a minute, picking up a hint of green as the swirling memory and rocking boat left him spinning. "...excuse me a moment. I'll.. listen in from my deck. I.. This boat.. Sorry."

With that, Oswald pulled his goggles down over his eyes, dropped into VR...

and found himself, once again, at the helm of the Starship Genesis. Back in control.
<Monty - Pull up my eyes and ears. I need to keep my senses tuned.> The Agent obliged, taking up the feed from his headphones and goggles and putting them on a virtual screen for Oswald to watch.
He wished Danny were here.
<Skypod - Go ahead and run an area Scan; then beam me the list. If we're running comms free again, I might as well see if there's anything funny in the air.>
"Information is control. I've got to stay on top things... That Professor character is pretty sharp. I'll keep an eye on him.. I.. Just gotta collect myself for a moment. Organize."
His work was his purpose. It kept him focused and moving forward. So, he set to it, looking to find anything broadcasting and to sniff out whatever it might be saying.

[Red-ROM]

Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma, 11:55PM

Dark shape drifts through the water toward the boathouse on Pier 7. "El Viajero" slows down as she pulls into the docks. Her motors quietly humming over the lapping water. The human guards made their way out of the cabin to secure the boat and greet the people waiting outside. The Johnson spoke up,"Please, stay comfortable, We have another potential hire coming aboard, and we can get started"
The twins take the unconscious women and disappear further into the ship.
On the dock, the young Chinese cowgirl smirks at the Ork with his arms folded,"All aboard Samurai Jack"

[Martin_DeVries_I...]

11:40 PM "El Viajero", cabin, Puget Sound

Obviously stiff and a bit shaken from the sudden excitement, Heka stands and makes his way to the drinks, helping himself to a tumbler of that synthetic scotch, his previous glass lost somewhere up top in the excitement. Although healed, his head still rings a little from the blow he took and he sips the drink with a scowl.

"Did he say..?" he says, looking at the old man who has just slipped off into his own VR world. "Did he say 'United States Astronaut?' He's..." Heka shuts his mouth, not wanting to blurt out the obvious in front of everyone. But this dude was old.

[HugeC]

Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma, 11:56PM

Benichi tips an imaginary ten-gallon hat to the cowgirl and puts on a playful, tusky grin as he says, "Until next time, Calamity Jane." He pushes off his leaning post and ascends the gangway onto the boat.

There are some signs of wear on El Viajero and her passengers, but Benichi passes them off as the results of a late night. He puts on his biz-face; expression serious, a slight crease between his eyebrows, his posture erect and alert, exuding competence and confidence. He takes a few moments to evaluate each of the other people aboard, then decides that, from his bearing, the large man in the white suit must be the customer, so he greets him first. "Mister Johnson, I presume," he says, and bows slightly, offering his hand to shake if Mr. Johnson seems amenable.

Addressing the entire party, he continues, "Ladies and gentlemen, please call me Thirty. My specialty is physical security." He turns back to Mr. Johnson and says, "If you'll fill me in on the general details of the job, we can decide if I am a good fit before we continue on to the specifics."

[pbangarth]

11:57 PM "El Viajero", cabin, Foss Harbour, Puget Sound

After Thirty introduces himself, Professor marvels at the efficient way losses are replaced in this organization. It would appear losses happen a lot. Not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad one, from a runner's perspective.

He waits for the Host to open proceedings.

[OOC: Edited to get the time right]

[Ellipsis]

11:45 PM "El Viajero", cabin, Puget Sound

A small nod is thanks to the host for the refreshment which half is then taken as a gulp and the rest pressed lightly to Hans' temple attempting to ease the persistent throb in his brain. The wear and tear of the evening are becoming all too clear and as the welcome fire spreads through his shoulders and extremities he slouches somewhat perceptibly. Shiiit...I'm going to be all but useless for negotiations at this rate, whatever one of these fine fellows will put out another ludicrous request, the man will laugh politely, it is always the same anyway...

When Thirty arrives he raises the glass momentarily and offers a small nod, "Welcome to the survivors my friend, and I wish that all our extremities shall stay attached, all our organs remain internal and the checks always cash. Cheers!" At this he tips the rest of the scotch back and returns the ice filled glass to his aching head.

[Red-ROM]

12:00 AM "El Viajero", cabin,Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma

As Thirty joined the others in the cabin, a low static sound creeped into the cabin, a white noise generator in the yacht's sound system. Some in the group, like Oswald, notice the jammer come back on. The two men in matching jumpsuits and the shaman retreat further into the boat. The Johnson seems more serious now as he gets his assistant to bring up the holoprojector in the cabin and reloads the Trids from earlier,"I am truly sorry for our interruption. Again, I will replace damaged goods, and I will obviously compensate in pay as well. I welcome you, Thirty, to our little business venture. As I had started before, I am looking to re-aquire three truckloads of goods from this man and have them delivered to a port in Everett. I had offered five thousand a head, and I am willing to change that to ten in light of recent events, plus an additional two thousand up front. "

[Saint Sithney]

12:00 PM "El Viajero", cabin, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma

Oswald kept the blimp running continuous scans all the way into the harbor. 10 km signal radius is a lot of blips. Seemed as though none of them were following the El Viajero.. at least not that he could tell. Nearly 30 seconds per frame didn't make for a particularly coherent story. Though, it was almost a perfect metaphor for his current situation. He was only getting snatches of what was there, but for every snapshot he got, there was a long darkness in between. He concentrated on this most recent event and worked backwards, attempting to create a map of dots in time.

He was on the boat now, meeting with a group of skilled assets. They were discussing their Jedi hoodoo while he watched their back here in virtual space.
He came to the ship after the explosion. He wanted to take stock of things after the smoke cleared and it became apparent that they were not being actively assaulted.
But the explosion still happened. It killed that... one fella. Was it the fishing boat that exploded? Why would that happen? It couldn't have just been an attack on the zug-a-boo. A secret meeting had to be the worst damn time possible to try and grease a greenskin. "Just put out a plate of poisoned truffles and it'll will gobble them right up! heh-heh-heh!" So, the explosion was most likely intended to kill everyone on board, but the attempt failed.
Before that, the Spaniard was talking. He had ripped off Ares. "Ares..." and had himself been ripped off by his bonehead truck-beast hireling... what's it's name.. Big Daddy Short-brains? Some Redmond garbage hauler? If he was behind the attack on the vessel, then this Spanish fella has got major information control issues.. "If it wasn't the traitor, then we've got bigger problems, or, I suppose, he does."

Just then, the thousand points of light went dim. "Jammer's back on," Ozzy surmised.
"Guess I'll beam back down planet-side."

And so, Oswald came out of VR just as Thirty walked into the cabin. "So true what they say. You step on one and another pops up right in its place."

"...I had offered five thousand a head, and I am willing to change that to ten in light of recent events, plus an additional two thousand up front." Johnson said.
"I'm just going to assume that your monetary kindness is meant to brush off questions as to why this meeting almost ended at the bottom of the bay. Accepting that and moving on, let's get back to the business of fucking over Ares. Tell me about this cargo. Will we need to take any specific precautions in handling or storing it? Would any such considerations help us find it? A week of days is a whole lot of catchup work..."

[HugeC]

12:00 AM "El Viajero", cabin, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma

Benichi hears the offer of 12k apiece, and he thinks, That must be in UCAS dollars. Wait - he said he offered 5k before, and that seems a little low unless we're delivering soymilk.

Benichi's mind races to put together the pieces of the puzzle. Behind his mirrorshades, his eyes settle on Caper. She said they were the survivors, but survivors of what? he wonders. Then he notices a dark stain on the back of Otto's suit. Dried blood. Nandarou?!

When Oswald says, "...almost ended at the bottom of the bay..." Benichi finally puts it together. Whomever this guy is on the holoprojector, he must have killed one or more of them at the start of the meet. Or maybe it was Ares, since the old man seems eager to get revenge on them for something. Now the Johnson has to offer us more because of the high threat level, he thinks. He half-folds his arms once more and absently strokes his chin as he weighs the risks. I've done high threat before, and 12k nuyen would come in real handy. If I live through this job, there might be more in the future, and okyaku-sama must be loaded if he's willing to shell out that kind of cred when things get hot. Yeah, I'm in, he thinks.

His mind made up, Benichi grits his teeth, causing the muscles in his jaw to flex visibly. He waits to see if one of the other runners will handle final negotiations on price, ready to step up himself if needed.

[pbangarth]

12:00 AM "El Viajero", cabin, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma

The astronaut seems happy with the money, and Professor is too. He is thankful his inept negotiating skills didn't scotch the job from the beginning. The new guy, Thirty, by his jaws working overtime, is either angry or itching to get started. The others seem noncommittal. "I'm going to have to convince someone in this group to take charge of negotiating. It sure as hell shouldn't be me!"

"There seem to be no objections to the financial end of things. I guess, as Oswald suggests, more details are in order. Information about the cargo itself would help. We have the identity of a likely target in the miscreant group. I am not interested in the offer of wetwork if the fellow turns out to have cheated you, sir. Without a doubt, if one reneges on a deal in this business, he can expect the kind of treatment you suggest. I'm happy to shoot back at someone who is shooting at me, but I won't commit murder. Of course, were we to report back that he did indeed cheat you, I wouldn't bet on his lengthy survival." Professor grins. "Hell, even coming to talk to you seems to be deadly!"

Hmm... is Otto looking a little peaked?

[Martin_DeVries_I...]

12:00 AM "El Viajero" Cabin, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma

"The.... Commander... raises a good point. Three truckloads of Ares bang-bang could easily require additional considerations in terms of transit, or the type of storage Big Daddy might be using. Also, what sort of time line are we working with? When do you need these goods shipped out by?" Heka sipped his scotch, thinking about Johnson's prices. He didn't want to start off appearing too greedy, and the boss had already doubled his offered price and tossed in the signing bonus. That satisfied the dwarf for now--but if this was going to be a rush job, then he'd have to insist on a little extra.

[HugeC]

12:01 AM "El Viajero", cabin, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma

After hearing what Professor has to say, Benichi says, "I agree. Wetwork can cause complications. Better to handle that as a separate job." With separate pay, he thinks, then continues, "For the recovery of your cargo, your offer of twelve thousand nuyen each sounds reasonable to me, so long as the concerns of the others can be addressed."

I hope it's just some runner who got greedy, and not Ares, he thinks, though he maintains his mask of confidence despite his worry.

[pbangarth]

12:00 AM "El Viajero" Cabin, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma

Professor opens his perception to the Astral and looks at Otto, 'cause something funny seems to be happening to him.

[Red-ROM]

12:02 AM "El Viajero", cabin, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma

Slowly, the conversation grows quiet, as others besides Professor notice The sudden change in the pallor of Otto. His wounds had been treated, and magically sealed, but some shrapnel remained. It remained a little to close to a major artery, And as Otto maneuvered against the discomfort in his chest, He was undone internally. On the Astral, Professor watched his aura explode in agony and surprise, and then fade into shadows. It was a sight he would never forget. In the flesh, Otto simply clutched his chest with a grunt and turned grey, collapsing to the floor in an awkward pile. The johnson called for "Duece" who turned out to be the jumpsuit with the medkit, but it was too late.
"This is too much," The man in white sighed,"Well, it looks like we have another burial at sea. anyone want to say a few words?"

12:20 AM

After the body is taken care of, The Johnson tries to get the meeting under way,"I will try to answer your questions and move through this quickly. This night is really taken some strange turns. I have a cargo ship in Everette, it leaves in seven days. I want those trailers on it. The contents of those trailers are mostly personal arms and ammunition. But there is also a good amount of armor and explosives. The explosives are plastic and very stable, so transport should be safe. As I said before, I have an interest in what transpired, but it's value will be determined separately from this job. I put no value in the rigger's death. I just hope he doesn't become an obstacle"
He looks to the spot where Otto hit the floor,"And speaking of obstacles, we seem to be short some manpower again. I will get My assistant... mrs. Johnson to find a suitable replacement. She will be staying ashore to oversee this operation"
Mrs. Johnson, even with blank chrome where her eyes should be, was visibly surprised, and maybe even irritated at the unexpected news. But she did not speak. She regained her shrewd composure within a heartbeat, before mr. Johnson looked her way. When he did, she simply nodded in agreement.

[pbangarth]

12:20 AM "El Viajero", cabin, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma

Professor broke the rule he never broke. Here, in the middle of a job meet, he went to the bar and poured himself a stiff scotch and downed it in one gulp. The burn of the synthehol only marginally dulled the sensations remaining from what he saw on the Astral. Focusing all his attention on Otto, he had seen in minute detail, in slow motion, what the death of a soul looks like.

He didn't even know the guy. Small mercies. For once, he cursed his photographic, eidetic, three-fucking-D memory. This would stay with him forever.

"Can we get off this boat? We have a week, and a job to do." Off the boat. Before another one croaks.

[Saint Sithney]

12:04 AM "El Viajero", cabin, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma

Oswald had sat dumbfounded as blood spilled out of Otto's back and ran down the seat like a burst hose. "His thoracic cavity must have filled with enough blood to burst the sealant binding his wound. At least it was quick."
"Wow. Geez..... I guess that just happened..." Oswald blinked. "I'll repeat my offer. Medical doctor. Ready to work. Well, my mobile apparatus is back in Everett, actually. I'd carry a bag, but that seems too Jack the Ripper to me. You types know who Jack the Ripper was, hm? Some Brittish fella went and cut up a handfulla whores back in the 1800s. Got stupid famous from doin it. Always seemed peculiar to me how a guy could get so famous for something as dull as killin' women whose compliance is for sale. Now, Dr. Henry Howard Holmes, he built himself a murder castle in downtown Chicago. That was style! Offing his own employees so he could collect on the life insurance which he took out on them without their knowledge! Murder as enterprise! A labyrinth of death built by unpaid workers without any idea of its overall purpose or design! It's a perfect microcosm of corporate culture! I guess 1893 wasn't ready for the corporate dream just yet.."
As all this gibbering was going on, Oswald had been working his gloved fingers into Otto's cooling back. Autopsy by autopilot.
"Ahh, there it is!" he exclaimed, producing a pointy shard of fiberglass. "Just as I thought. Piece of stray hull sliced his Aorta." He turned to Deuce. "No need to feel bad about this one. Scans always have trouble with fiberglass. It's not a proper mass, so the signal sort of diffuses through it and around it in weird ways." He put a bloody hand on the man's shoulder. "Could've happened to anyone."

[HugeC]

12:02 AM "El Viajero", cabin, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma

Benichi's eyes go wide as Otto expires, but there is nothing he can do. He whispers, "Damn," and wonders if there are any next of kin out there who would like to know what happened to the poor fellow. But he doesn't know the man, and has no idea where to start looking for anyone who may care that he's dead. Otto probably isn't his real name anyway. He's probably got no SIN if he's in this business. I can't exactly take his picture and shop it around, either; I'm sure Mr. Johnson wouldn't appreciate that at all, he thinks.

Benichi manages to keep his dinner down while Oswald performs his brief autopsy. Good thing, he thinks, nobody wants to look at regurgitated kibble. He looks at the tiny shard of fiberglass that ended Otto's life, and marvels for a moment at the frailty of metahumanity. Then his practicality takes over, and he says to Mr. Johnson, "Let's head out into the sound a ways so his body doesn't immediately wash up on shore. If you have anything heavy on board you can spare, let's tie it onto his leg. I'll come up with something to say for him."

Once the boat is out in the sound, Benichi helps Mr. Johnson's crew hoist Otto's lifeless form over El Viajero's railing. As the body splashes into the inky water, he claps his hands twice, then holds his palms together, bows his head and gazes at the disturbance on the waves where the corpse went under. Normally he would pray in Japanese, but a burial prayer is really for those still living, so in English he says, "We knew you as Otto, but the spirits of the water know your true name. May they carry your soul to your ancestors, and may you rest in peace." After a few moments of silence, he gets a disinfectant wipe from his pocket and cleans off his hands, and any blood that may have gotten on his coat, then throws the wipe overboard and heads back into the cabin.

12:20 AM

After the announcement that Mrs. Johnson will be the runners' liaison, Benichi nods to her, and says, "I assume we should all exchange matrix information so that we can keep in contact while we do the legwork." He mentally orders his commlink into active mode, then tells it to advertise his contact info. In AR, a number of six-inch-tall replicas of Thirty begin floating in a circle around him, each clad in glowing blue samurai armor. They are AROs which, when pointed at, beckoned or otherwise interacted with, draw a glowing blue katana and fly into the user's commlink to deposit Thirty's commcode before they disappear and reappear floating around him.

[Sephiroth]

10:30 P.M., Tacoma
PAN mode: Passive

An inconspicuous house in a moderately comfortable neighborhood sits silent on its small plot of land. It is dark inside the house. If one puts his ear to the outside walls and listens closely, he can hear the faint whirring of cleaning droids. No living thing moves inside the house.

"I don't know, Jo. This station's awfully quiet. Maybe we should get a taxi or something." Five people stood in an underground space. Stairs went up behind them.
"That'll take too long, Lethe. This is the quickest way to get back to the hotel. Besides, where's your sense of adventure?" one of them said playfully.
The largest one laughed a hearty laugh. "'Atta' boy, son! We're in Europe, for heavens sake! We should be a little adventurous! A coupla' minutes in a spooky subway station is nothin' ta worry about!"
The images changed then. Lost their coherence. They flashed before his eyes in quick succession. A woman with no hair and sharp teeth, blood dripping down her chin. Two people fighting. Loud noises and a train. Someone standing over him, watching him. A woman beneath him, screaming into a gag as he tore at her throat for the blood. Blood everywhere. So much blood. Sweet sweet blood. The images stopped making sense, like his mind was fragmenting. Dizzying images blood so much blood can't make sense of this blood need blood what's happening to me blood want blood alas I am slain bloodbloodblood what a bloodblood piece of work is man bloodbloodbloodneedbloodgivemeblood purr the cat is gray whereisbloodneedbloodsogood something is rotten in the state of Denmark sweetbloodblood speak more fly than thou knowest bloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblood sell drugs for what thou owest bloodbloodblood use the mojo when thou throwest bloodbloodbloodbloodblood in unicorns thou trowest bloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblood......................

Amber eyes shot open. His mind returned to him.

Damn dreams.

Jovan got out of bed and made for the door, checking the time on his comm as he did so. 10:30. It seems I slept in. Tsk tsk. He walked downstairs and into the kitchen, where a soycaf sat waiting for him. He was unsurprised when it tasted like it was made seven hours earlier. Knowing his damn CHN, it probably was.

Now then. I fed yesterday. My soul feels a bit weak, but I should have about a month or two to take care of that before it weakens further. I have no other business to attend to tonight. So unless someone bothers me for my valuable assistance, I have the night to myself. He smiled. About damn time.

With a slight bounce in his step, Jovan walked into his basement, where he kept his collection of books, spell formulae, and notes. A pleasant evening of research and reading Shakespeare seemed to be in order.

[Red-ROM]

12:20 AM "El Viajero", cabin, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma

The blond with no pupils brings up Virtual credsticks in AR and sends them to each guest. The file contains 2,000 nuyen, a commcode, and all the info they have on "Big Daddy Long Legs".
The Johnson smiles wearily, "So, we have an agreement? I share Professor's feelings that this meeting has been long for everyone."

3:00 AM, Tacoma

What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how
infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and
admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like
a god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals—and yet,
to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me—
nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.

Jovan had to finish the line before he checked his comm. The message was from Zayne. It had been a while. The message was short.
<<A job cropped up from an interesting source, it seemed to be your time of day and the pay is good. Time is short. you want in? I can send you a number>>