IC: Post or Die, Lifelines, and deadlines Options

[Acme]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:52 PM, Redmond, Ferret's van

Acme grunted, the text buzzing in his commlink. He nodded at the message, knowing that the team was counting on his abilities and that his future pay and safety were counting on them as well. He tacked out a quick reply, settling back.

<<@Jovan: If you can give me probably ten to fifteen minutes, I'll have a little bit of rest and then I can pop the patch on.>>

[pbangarth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:53 PM, Redmond, Ferret's van

Professor keeps an astral eye out. Seeing as he is no longer invisible, he uses his mental focus to overcome the distraction of being aware in both the physical and astral realms. Adding a conversation in the digital realm to finally answer Jovan's question stretches him somewhat.

<<@Jovan[CC:team members only]: Chill Woman is the number two in the operation. Number one is male, probably southern Spanish by his accent. Fat man in a white suit. Go figure. International connections and business. Just expanding business into Seattle, hired Long Legs and his crew to move the Ares cargo to a ship in Everett. The cargo is destined to some operation offshore in which Señor Johnson has interest.

Met him on a boat in the Sound. Professional people working for him, but he seems to have fingers in many international pies and hopes we (now that BDLL is persona non grata) will be his legs on the ground in Seattle. More work to come if this job pans out. Through direct assault on the boat, attrition on the run and possibly coincidental accident, we have lost four people in less than a day and Thirty doesn't look too healthy and may become number five. Hard to say whether this casualty rate is due more to our employer drawing attention, lack of information, mistakes on our part or bad luck. It would be well to remember we lost our first member while still getting hired on the boat, due to an explosion on a craft that sneaked in beside Señor Johnson's boat. Clearly they didn't see that one coming, but reacted quickly and efficiently.

Chill Woman is assigned to be our handler in this job. She didn't look too pleased when she learned of this role. She gives the impression of being all business, but my sense, only a hunch at the moment, is that she finds working with us beneath her. This could be why she has been less than forthcoming with information she may have about the Vipers. This strikes me as odd, given the ostensible importance to their international business of this cargo. Given that the Vipers may not actually be after our target is immaterial, seeing the interaction the two teams just had. Under different circumstances, we and the Vipers may actually have been able to cooperate. Doubt it now. I got a better vibe from Señor Johnson, but he is likely to delegate Seattle business to a second. If Chill Woman is to be our handler in the future, we will have to establish a professional and cooperative context in which to deal with her.>>

[Sephiroth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:52 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

Met them on the Sound, did they? I was hoping there was some sort of link putting them in the chapterhouse's area of influence. Not a great deal to go on, of course, but it is better than nothing.

<<@Ghoul Liberation League: Good evening, my Infected kin. I am contacting you to request help with something that has come to my attention. Last night, less than 24 hours ago, there was a professional meeting of some sort out on the Sound, during which a bomb exploded next to the boat. The owner seems to be a fat international businessman from southern Spain, who is looking to expand his business and influence into Seattle. He may have been docked in Tacoma, thus why I am contacting you. I need more information on this man, the woman acting as his number two here in Seattle, and what he is currently trying to accomplish here. What info can you give or find for me? Do you require more information to go off of?>>

[Red-ROM]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:51 PM, Redmond,

Amber could see the mods on the gun as the man brought it around for inspection,"I did manage to get a smart link on here, top mounted, and I got a shock pad on the stock. It ain't top shelf, but it works pretty damn good. Recoil is pretty high, I might be able to rustle up a tripod if you want."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:52 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

The mercenary at his feet closed his eyes and leaned his head back while Jovan sent his messages.

The response from his ghoul associates came swiftly,<<GLL@ Jovan: This is the first I've heard of these things. The docks are crawling with Triads and yacks here, and neither group has any compassion for our kind. Add to this that few of our members left us for a new group in the barrens, and our security is a bit thin. We have hardly left the sewers in weeks.>>

[J. Packer]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:52 PM, Redmond,

"Mmmm..." says Amber with a purr. "May I?" She holds her hands out for the rifle and, after removing the magazine, her new best friend hands it to her. "Yes, I like this. I think a tripod would just get in the way, and we are likely to need to move quickly." She looks up at the fellow with a sexy smile. "Now, tell me you have some fun rounds to go with it?"

[Sephiroth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:52 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

<<@GLL: I am sorry to hear of this misfortune. However, I am glad that you mentioned it to me, for I am currently following another possible lead on this fat man in the Barrens. I'd like to hear more about this group if you know anything else, so as not to be caught unprepared should I find myself in tense or even hostile first relations with them. Could you please elaborate?>>

[Red-ROM]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:52 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

<<GLL@Jovan: A Ghoul named Jonathan said he was heading for a spot in the barrens where our more...progressive cases could have space to roam. He was looking to help those with little mental faculties left to them, and many of us saw it as a chance to remove some of our kin that were a danger even to us, but like I said, it has left us a little thin in the numbers >>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:52 PM, Redmond,

Amber's new friend smiled as the dwarf girl talked shop with the assault rifle,"I only got the regular load, but I got a friend up the street with some high explosive rounds, I call 'em shredders. They'll rip a car door off in a quick burst or two."

Ferret grabbed up his tools and went to work on the commlink. He popped off the back and saw a tiny digital timer wired to a disk on the back of the data chip. This was definitely some after market additions. There looks to be an anti-tampering circuit run around the whole set up.

[Notsoevildm]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:53 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Jeez, these guys sure are paranoid. thinks Ferret as he spots the extra circuitry. Nice work too. Very professional. I'll need to spend some time on the team's links when we get through this run.

He examines the circuit carefully, the tip of his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he concentrates on the job at hand. When he thinks he's got it worked out he reaches for his tools. He is just about to snip one of the wires, when something catches his attention.

What the...Oh come on. That's just fragging sneaky. He squints closely at the concealed trip switch and prepares to disable it.

[J. Packer]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:52 PM, Redmond,

Using nothing short of her best bedroom voice, Amber purrs at the mention of the explosive rounds. "You know just how to talk to a lady!"

She narrows her eyes a bit. "What do you say to 1,500 for the rifle, and 100 for each magazine you've got of stock rounds. I'll pay 500 for each magazine of the hot shots your friend has, if he'll bring 'em down here..."

[Saint Sithney]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:53 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

The tension of waiting for a Spirit to suddenly appear and attack was putting Oswald into fits. He was shaken and his nerves were fried. He wanted to get back into his cocoon where he was safe. On top of that, he had been holding his breath for 10 minutes trying to avoid the stink of this place and its people, and the carbon dioxide buildup was turning his blood acidic. He was determined to get out of here rapidly. Oz wasn't doing this for money, but they sure as hell weren't paying him enough to fight a mercenary company if he didn't have to. Especially a mercenary company that didn't do business with corps.

<<@Agent: Monty. Call off the attack. Yes I know you can't find the ID. It doesn't matter anymore. We're moving on.>>

<<@Jovan: I think we've finally got the guy's contacts. If you've determined that they, for sure, are not after the same gear as us (that it wasn't part of the "bonus" BDLL had promised them,) and will truthfully stay out of our way, then we need to call his backup and figure out where to drop the guy off. That is, if you're convinced they'll honestly keep to their word and wait for us to deliver the goods to them. Let's face it here, it's easier to convince one guy that he's been scared to death by an illusion than it is to fight off two score trained combatants. But if you think that they'd come after us anyway, then he's no longer of any use to us.>>

[Red-ROM]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:54 PM, Redmond,

Ferret delicately removes the chip from the nest of wires after bypassing a few tiny circuits. The comm looked like it was in the middle of open heart surgery. He quickly went to work on cracking open one of the others from the bag, and swapping out the chips. when he brought it online, it was ugly, but it was functional. It only took a few more seconds to get the ID's he was looking for.

The ganger inside tried not to let his jaw drop to the floor when Amber threw out the numbers. He went into his pockets and pulled out two extra clips,"That works for me lady. I'll get my boy down here in a minute" He picks his comm back up and dialed in a number,"Oi, Bucket nuts! what're ya doin? Bring those shredders for the M23....I'm at the bar... look, there's cred in it for ya, just move your ass!" He smiled at the dwarf,"He's just up the street, uh, you mind if I see some cred?"

[Sephiroth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:53 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

Jovan stared blankly at a small pattern on the surface of the wall in front of him. What a delicate situation this was. The return of their companion could keep a possible enemy off our backs, which would no doubt have significant effect as this run continues. But they could easily refuse to honor their word; it's not as if tact is their strong suit anyway. And then we would still have an enemy breathing down our necks - an enemy made stronger by the return of one of their men. Not to mention that these people slaughtered a bar full of people, and used brute force to get information out of an innocent. In that regard, letting him live would be a violation of my principles.

"Viper 5, I have a different kind of question for you now." His eyes did not leave the small pattern on the wall as he spoke. "How high do the Vipers value their own promises? If an enemy of theirs tries to negotiate with them, do they accept the negotiation and honor it, or do they get what they need out of the deal and then kill their enemy?"

[pbangarth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:54 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Professor weighs his options and talents. How can I contribute here? What do I have? Planning, patterns, languages, street cred... heh.. nil. Wait... it worked once.

Professor drops the encryption on his transmission to the team. <<@Team: This is on an insecure channel. I sincerely hope the Vipers are listening in. This conflict between them and us is in error and costing us both. We want different things from the same guy. Instead of beating our brains out against each other, let's call a real truce, one we both know about.

Jovan, when you have the information you can safely get from our captive, let him go with his hallucinations, please. We need that demonstration in good faith, and they need their teammate back. What happened was unfortunate, but neither we nor the Vipers are stupid enough to continue a battle with the wrong people. Big Daddy is our common target and instead of getting in each others' way, we may be able to help each other achieve our goals.

This is the only logical course of action. Any other is likely to continue the attrition.>>

[J. Packer]

[quote name='Red-ROM' date='Jan 26 2011, 07:14 PM' post='1036836']
Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:54 PM, Redmond,

"What's that? The rifle and three loaded clips? 1,800, right? Gimme your ID and I'll transfer it right over to you." She prepares to send the nuyen once she has the necessary ID. "I don't know where we're going from here, sugar, but if you don't mind, I'll keep that ID on hand, in case I find myself in need of something special? Maybe you can run interference for me?"

[Saint Sithney]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:54 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Yep. Time to play the role of the raincloud.

<<@Team: What happened wasn't unfortunate, it was a calculated act of terror. They attacked an unknown force repeatedly, from a distance and they as good as signed their name each time. They must have been looking for a reaction. They got one. I'm not sad that it wasn't the reaction they were hoping for. Are they stupid enough to keep going after that? Well, they're certainly stupid enough to try and pick a fight with an unknown force just to gather intel, so I wouldn't put it past them... or at least whoever is running this op at the moment. At this point I'd bet he's going to have to justify his casualties to a superior officer. All that "glorious death" and "remember this day" horseshit Mr. Mojo was spitting makes me think that this group takes itself too seriously to let a fuck-up like this go unanswered for. If all he has to show for his decisions is the satisfaction of making sure that some Trog didn't get away with bilking them, you really think that'll be enough? We haven't taken any actions against them since this surprise truce business. We removed one of their agents from the site of a closing police dragnet. He's unharmed as of yet, and ready to be dropped of at a location of our choosing. More than what could be said if we'd have left him to the SWAT. Hell, I'd welcome them taking aggressive action against us at this point. Then we could just kill their head of operations and this series of massive fuck-ups dies with him. The next guy doesn't have to inherent his mistakes. You know, the ones that've led to "war" as he put it.>>

[Notsoevildm]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:54 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

<<@Team: Well if you want to tell them where to stuff their truce, here's their comm-codes: {list of codes}. But I'd just like to point out that with Thirty out of action, we're a bit light on muscle unless you're planning on hiring on the rest of the Crush here. Me, I kinda like my skin and wouldn't mind keeping it intact. So maybe Prof or the bossy bint should have a word with them first. Y'know like before we start shooting at each other.>>

Ferret leans back in his chair, examing his work with a professional eye. Nice job Mr Dobson, even if I do say so myself. And in such a short time too.

Well thank you, Mr Dobson. I'm not one to boast but...ooops!

The jury rigged comm makes a 'squee' noise as sparks begin to fly. Reacting quickly Ferret grabs the small fire extinguisher next to his workbench and pounds the burning commlink into submission.

Addressing noone in particular, he gives an embarrased laugh "Well at least I got the data off it!"

[Acme]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:55 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Acme smells burned plastic and wiring and coughs out. This wasn't a great way to recuperate, but he didn't really have a choice. "Good... Can you not try to blow up the place next time? Some of us wanna live through this."

[J. Packer]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:55 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

<<@Team:[Amber]: The "Bossy Bint" is busy upgrading her firepower, twerp, so if you can give me a minute for my munitions to arrive, I can come play peacemaker with the snakes, or the Professor can handle it.>>

[Sephiroth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:54 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

<<@GLL: Thank you for this information, brother. I know it is not what I initially asked for, but do you require anything in return for this information?

[Notsoevildm]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:55 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Ferret grimaces at Amber's response. Crap, I forgot I added her link to our channel. Well, there goes your chances, not that you had any in the first place, idiot.

He shoots a glance at a smirking Acme. "Don't even say a word chummer."

With a sigh, he scrapes the remains of the two commlinks into a wastebasket next to his workbench and returns the fire extinguisher to its mounting. I really should get a replacement for that. One that actually works.

He then climbs back into the driver's seat and buckles up.

<<@team: We should get moving as soon as Amber finishes up whatever she's doing with the Crush. I'm starting to feel like a sitting target out here.>>

He starts up the van, tweaks his system settings and scans the local nodes in AR while waiting for the lady to arrive.

[Saint Sithney]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:56 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

"'Starting to feel'? Have you ever seen one of those ghosts appear out of nowhere and attack a guy before he ever gets a chance to figure out what's happening? Oh, wait, yeah. That just happened like 30 minutes ago. If we can't figure out how this bastard is tracking us with spirits, we're all well fucked." Oswald took a moment to spit.
"Then again, maybe this guy is too scared to show his head again without reinforcements. After all, the last time they stuck out their necks, I did them the favor of cutting 'em open. Hopefully with those bugs off us, we can operate with some amount of cover. Maybe Mojo used them to find us the first time and hasn't tried again. After all, way I understand it, those little spooks are dumb as the night is black, but they got special rules for crap like messages. Something bigger needs whipping up so that it'll do your business, at least outside of your immediate influence. Wilie.. er, Acme, help me out here. What are the rules on spirits finding and attacking people? I'm only guessing on most a this, but if that guy's got to do some kind of ritual, then that gives us time, right? I'm sorta losing track of that.. time.. It feels like I've been sitting here for weeks.. That's just the Cram, right? Like why I'm having trouble censoring myself..."

[Red-ROM]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:58 PM, Redmond,

"call me Arsenio, and don't go thinking I'm a sucker for some shortcake with a gun. I don't stick my neck out unless the cheese is right" Amber barely has time to get the gangers ID before his friend shows up. He's a tall wiry human in a thick, long coat. He makes his way to the table and immediately pulls two magazines from his jacket and stacks them on the table. The fellas nod to each other and Arsenio pushes the ammo to Amber,"This should keep 'em busy for a while"

Jovan could almost hear his captive thinking. His breath held for a moment as if he forgot to operate his lungs and then continued again as the lack of oxygen reminded him,"The old man is probably asking himself the same thing about you. These guys have been at the war game their whole life. We like to think ourselves men of honor, but such novelties must be abandoned when they become a weakness. I'm sure I'm listed as a casualty of war by now. It's gonna be a cost risk analysis on their part at this point. The gear isn't worth that much. In the face of real opposition, they might wash their hands of the whole thing. Of course, they might be worried about their reputation. To be honest, the General is pretty unpredictable. "

[Notsoevildm]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:56 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

"Jeez, Ozzie, take a chill pill or something. Actually, ignore that. I think maybe you already took one too many. You know that cram can really mess you up long term."

He rolls his eyes and turns to Acme, lowering his voice so Oswald hopefully won't hear him. "Y'know the old coot's right. I don't really want another one of them spirits popping out of the astral and into my van. I zapped the electronic bugs but don't know anything about magic ones. You up to doing something about it."

[J. Packer]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:58 PM, Redmond,

Amber twiddles with the touch screen on her 'link and arranges for the nuyen to be transferred to Arsenio, 3000 total, and make a note in her contacts database under munitions procurement.

"I threw in a little something extra there for you, A, for expediting the delivery. A pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen," she says, slinging the rifle that's nearly as long as she is tall. "I'd best get back out there - the boys are getting restless. You go five minutes without blowing something up, and they start to fidget..."

She favors the room with a beaming smile and heads for the door, stepping out to where the rest of the team waits. Simultaneously speaking live and on the 'link, she says, "Alright, gents. I think I'm through powdering my nose." To punctuate that, she slaps a clip of the standard ammo into the rifle and both chambers a round and puts it on safe via smartlink.

[Sephiroth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:58 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

"But would he choose to turn around and shoot my companions in the back if they attempted to negotiate a cease-fire? That is of more immediate concern than the likelihood of his giving up on the whole affair." Jovan glanced passively at the bound mercenary out of the corner of his eye. "How much of a weakness does his honor have to become before he chooses to throw it away?"