2072: Game World, IC thread for 2072: Recruitment always open! Options

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[April 18th 2072, 22:49:07 Seattle, 1 block from the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

The plan was simple, get in, apply tactical pressure to the target, get out; and yet Mark couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong. A boss, even for a triad as small as the 88's, never went with so little security. Mark supposed it had to do with saving face before the incense master but something still nagged at the back of Mark's mind.

"Time to go ladies," Tony quietly whispered from the back of the car where the trid representation of his conscious mind, now very much immersed in the matrix, sprang up from the tiny projector, "everything is clean in the net, back door should be unlocked just as you get there, 50 seconds to get from the back door to the front room of the third floor, 2 staircases. Be careful, the cyber nanny reports an issue with staircase 2, it creaks apparently and there are orders for maintenance on the central system. I'll shout if anything funny goes on outside but once you're in, it's all you mark."

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 21:25:45 Leaving Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]

The troll looked Jack over for a few seconds then nodded, though at the comment or at Jack's obvious inebriation he wasn't certain, "Yeah lexi I can do that, close scrape there. We going to repay the favor later?" Hawke nodded and the troll seemed to settle into the role he had been given. "Where's your doss kid? You got two days to crash then I'll come pick you up natch?"

[RdMarquis]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:31:45, Dust 514, UCAS Server, Lounge]
SIN: Morgan Senlis, PAN: Active

It all happened so suddenly that LeFay could do little else but stare at the spot her contact had occupied mere moments before. But it didn't take long for her shock to be replaced by a crushing fear and, somehow, sense of loss. Whatever she was, the girl had seemed like a friend. A few years before, Morgan would have retreated into the physical world, into her bed. Another child her age might have done the same. Not tonight. Morgan had realized long ago that learning the secrets of the Resonance was going to require making some things less of a priority. Matrix law and her personal safety, to name a couple.

Still, it didn't mean she had to go it alone. Morgan had to trace the path left behind by the girl, and that wasn't a power she possessed. The witch pointed a finger at the floor of the node. Moving it as if she were using a pen, LeFay inscribed a strange symbol, something like a stylized lyre. "Forcas," she intoned, deciding on a name and appearance for the Sleuth sprite. "He who reveals the hidden. Come forth." A veritable wave of liquid mercury surged forth, looming to swallow the little witch.

LeFay stood her ground, though she could swear she felt her heart racing. "Enough," Morgan tried desperately to sound commanding. "I have need of your services." The mass of metal froze inches from her face. It then eased backwards and shrank, taking the form of a giant of a man, clad in armor. The sprite chuckled in a deep voice, then inclined its head in a bow.

Morgan pointed to the faint trail. "I need you figure out where this leads and lead me there." Footsteps thudding against the floor, the sprite walked over to where the trail began. Forcas knelt and placed a hand to the thin line.

That's one. Which means you only have one left. The pale hand of her paragon plucked the carving from the wall. With a flash of light, it changed into a metallic vessel decorated with the same symbol. The paragon tossed it over to LeFay.

"I know how to count, thank you." Morgan became testy when she was nervous. "I'll register him when I need to," she said, catching the vessel. The technomancer was aware she had just avoided being hurt badly, considering the effort required to summon her sprite. She was not in a hurry to take that risk again.

Very well. But I would remind you, my little protege, that one cannot be too prepared. LeFay had turned to watch Forcas work. She nodded silently.

[JxJxA]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 10:47:20; Kreig's Motors, Reading, UK]
PAN - Active ; SIN - Maximilien Danton

Gemeaux nods politely to Argent, doing his best to keep from appearing flummoxed at the magical parlance.

"I see. Then I look forward to the time when we can meet in person once this adventure has come to a close. Indeed, I may find it just as enlightening. Alas, I am heartbroken to leave my beautiful Marseilles, but she shall always be there for me when the time to return is right.

"I suspect your gentleman may be our best bet at the moment, especially if Monsieur Hill is not being modest about the extent of his contacts here."

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:49:27 Seattle, 1 block from the apartment, getting closer]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

Screwing the silencer onto the end of his gun, Mark can't prevent a sardonic smile showing on his face.
Yeah, right. A simple thing, no problems. Just like at the docks.

Looking at the duffel bag Tony had packed with what seems little interest in any kind of order, Mark picks his new toy - the Urban Comabt - over his trusted old Ak-97.
Any trouble crops up, might at least try and handle it silently.
Making sure he has a full spare mag for all his guns, including the special, Mark zips the bag closed.

On the other hand...
Opening the bag up again, he stuffs three grenades into his windbreaker's pockets - flashbang, gas - pepper punch - and smoke.

Getting out alive with a couple of bangs beats dying silently.

Mark closes the bag again, pushes it underneath his seat, pulls down his mask - feels a bit awkward over his glasses - turns to Silvio on the back seat - similarly masked -, gives him the tumbs-up, turns back and nods to Tony. Let's do this.

Wonder if Sil's smiling underneath that mask. He sure likes grenades.

Good thing the target building is already coming into sight, the suspense this short before action is killing Mark.

Focusing his concentration on his commlink for a second, he checks it's status for the probably dozenth's time - wireless: off; skinlink: active; cyberware: all within operational parameters; bioware: who knows?; glasses and gun register as linked, low-light and smartgun systems operational, he's got a Colt America L36 in his right hand - not my right hand! - with 11 rounds of regular ammo in the magazine and there's a silencer attacked to it's muzzle...
Note to self: Subsonic rounds next time?

Before he can reach a decision in this matter - or go off in other tangents -, the car slows down, they have reached their destination...

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
Adrian Anderson
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 01:19:01; Everett, Pamela's Pie Palace]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor, Edge: 5 / 6

Huh, Saint, there's something about Doctor Bailey I gotta talk about. And for that matter, I better tell you something about me first...

Making a short pause, the young yogi wonders how to explain, then decides on working with - what he hopes is - Trid-fueled general knowledge. While technically not exactly correct, I'm a mage; sort of.
He gives Saint a weal smile, then remembering what mages on the Trid usually do, he adds Well, I'm certainly no Karl Kombat Mage, tossing around fireballs and telling spirits to rip people apart. Shuddering, he continues In fact both my ShiFu and Yidam, err sorry, my teacher and my spirit mentor would never condone such things. Lost in thought for a moment, he has to retrace his mental steps to get back on track. Anyway, what I do do is see and feel things, mostly. And what I've seen and felt in Doc Bailey's office was... most disturbing.

Come on, concentrate, get your thoughts straigthened out, organise what you know then lay it out for someone who doesn't deal with this every day. Someone who doesn't... Frak me! I don't deal with this every day!

Seeing that Saint hasn't upped and left yet - there is a wary look, well known to him by now, in her eyes, though -, he takes a calming deep breath and continues in a more orderly fashion
One: Doc Bailey is capable of some kind of magic, too.
Two: There are many types, traditions we call them, of magic and his seems very close to mine; yet somehow wrong, polluting - evil.
Three: He definately lied when he yelled at you that he's helping everyone - maybe he doesn't like killing, but he accepts the death of poeple such as Jessica as necessary.
Four: I don't know about his magical capabilities, but I wouldn't bet on my being able to protect us if he decided to unleash them...

With a sad sigh, Adrian concludes his monologue, just in time for their tea and cake.

As the waitress leaves, he adds As I'm sure I've forgotten some things and not properly expressed others, please ask me anything you want.

[RdMarquis]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:31:42, Dust 514, UCAS Server, Lounge]
SIN: Morgan Senlis, PAN: Active

Morgan sighed. So close, and yet so far. She couldn't possibly get the to Arcology now. Not in the middle of the night. The witch paced the virtual floor, mulling over the possibility. Could she crack the security on her parents' list of contacts? Find a runner who would be willing to take her on a field trip? LeFay chuckled humorlessly at herself. And it would definitely have to be a runner. No team worth its salt would be willing to work for a paltry 2000 nuyen. She sighed again, deeper this time.

"Thank you." The witch said to the metallic man. "Now, then. I may need your help again." She opened the vessel, and Forcas exploded into a million pieces. To her credit, Morgan avoided most of the resulting shards. The sprite then reconstituted, giving her an apologetic smile.

She felt the pain in both her physical and virtual being. This was bad. Morgan was unused to discomfort, let alone an actual wound. More importantly, injuries had to be explained. LeFay would probably spend the next day merely feeling sore and tired, but if she pushed herself further, there would be visible signs she had been hurt. Like heavy bleeding. Why did she summon something too strong to control? The witch placed her vessel on the ground and watched it dissolve back into data.

"...in which case, I will call upon you once more." In a more managable form, however. "Browse the matrix for information on yourself, then present it to me." After presenting LeFay with a few pages worth of material on the mythical Forcas, the sprite also returned to the Resonance.

For the first time in years, Morgan decided to sleep through the night. She had no desire to continue her game. Not while there was something to be accomplished come the next day.

[Aria]

@Fortune's Forecast / Scratch
[April 18th, 2072, 00:31:23, Abandoned Wharf, 76th Pl W, Everett]


She settled into a resting pose, and almost immediatly moved again when the boards under her feet creaked alarmingly...this guy's home? Who in their right mind would live on this death trap?

"Look, I don't want to hurt him, okay? Well not much but that's beside the point. He asked me to come and see him here, said he'd be here a few minutes ago. I don't know why here, but I hope he's got the intel I need to find my friend. If he's not on the quay I'll go and wait back on land, less chance of me falling into the water! Sorry I disturbed you, hope the fishing's ok..." and she trailed off, not quite sure what to say or think anymore...

[Aria]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 10:47:20; Kreig's Motors, Reading, UK]

Argent smiles at you all "Bien, I will put you in touch with the Professor. He's a researcher at the university and seems to have a knack for bypassing the travel restrictions in England - I suspect that's just what you need right now. Kreig can supply you with a change of vehicle, I'll have a word in a minute and rouse him from his pit. Is there anything else you all need? Ammo isn't my speciality but if you ask Kreig he may know someone, for the right price no doubt..."

[Aria]

@E:PL/Chi Town / Copperhead
[July 8th, 2072, 20:22 PM; CZ, Chicago]

From her position of cover Copperhead sees Ælias give a nod and suddenly after a burst of static she gets an inside glimpse of the comm traffic of the team, all two of them, ahead of her. With their attackers disorientated by the loud booming shotgun they begin a rapid retreat in your general direction.

<<You can hear me? Your hacker said you could...we'll talk later about you violating our comm channels, right now I'm just glad to see some backup. You one of A's groups? Said there might be more of us out here. Frag, left side...>> a flurry of fire and another attacker disappears from sight <<Let's talk in a minute yeah?>>

Copperhead's diminutive spirit unseats another rider and nearly distracts her into walking into another crossbow bolt. Thankfully a hissed warning in her mind gets her to duck behind a fallen piece of ferrocrete. The shotgun barks again and a fuel tank explodes on one of the crappy bikes. The luckless driver is launched into the air and comes down with a sickening crunch.

[Notsoevildm]

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 20:22 PM; CZ, Chicago]
PAN: Hidden, SIN: Charlotte Church

Copperhead pumps a fist as the bike explodes.

"I gots plenty more of dat, you fraggers!" she hoots at the gangers over the explosion and gunfire.

She swings the big shotgun back up and pumps another pair of rounds at the nearest target, then ducks back into cover to compose a reply to the incoming message.

<<This is Copperhead. I read you loud and clear, omae. Yeah, we are on the same team and just be thankful our decker did hack your encryption. Otherwise, I might be shooting at you rather than the other guys.>>

She emphasizes the message by pumping another two rounds in the direction of the gangers.

<<Keep heading towards my position, but watch your nine and don't shoot the pretty keeb. She's on my team.>>

[RdMarquis]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:31:42, Dust 514, UCAS Server, Lounge]
SIN: Morgan Senlis, PAN: Active

"If you were dressed in brighter colors, we'd look like the set of Wizard of Oz during break time." LeFay had a habit of letting her mind wander. "You know, with a witch and a tin man. Well, mercury." The witch was seated in a corner of the node, with the Sleuth sprite looking on.

Focus. You must rely on your talents to see you to your goal. Now...

Morgan continued to bounce ideas off the paragon. "Cracking Mother or Father's commlink for an appropriate guide is sounding like a better idea all the time," she admitted with a frown. "But let's call that Plan B." She rested her chin on her knees. "Suppose I have someone cover for me after school. Say I'm joining a club or something. Then sneak out a back door and switch to the SIN Riley gave me."

You'd still need your parents' approval Besides, they aren't the only ones watching.

"That's right..." She glanced at the sprite. "Can you check if I have an RFID tag anywhere on my person?"

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 01:23:10; Everett, Pamela's Pie Palace]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

She didn't have time to study him, her face went pale at the mention of Bailey being a mage. If she'd have known, she would've never stepped foot in the place. Her fears made her paranoid as her lips dried out and her palms got sweaty. What had she gotten herself into? That man could've fried her brain and turned her into a human meat puppet for his own sadistic pleasures, that idea spawned other dark thoughts, and it was starting to make her feel violated in the worst way. She'd never do that again, her memories were too precious.

When her eyes came back to Sport, they were filled with accusatory contempt.

"What in Dunkelzahn's magical ass, Sport?!" Remembering her location, and the proximity of prying ears calmed her a moment, she visibly attempted to calm herself enough to at the very least shout a whisper. "You're a mojo slinger? And you didn't bother to tell me until now?"

Her mind went to another dark place, he could sense feelings, HE was most likely able to read her mind, too! Mimicking his list of points, she continued it.

"Five: Stay the hell outta my head.
Six: I'm going to assume any thoughts about liking you were planted.

How the hell am I supposed to trust you now? That's too big of a secret to be holding all to yourself while I stood there next to you, how do I know you haven't already done something to me or stole all my secrets?."

She withdrew from him into her chair, he could tell she was bottling up, the once sure woman had gone from royally pissed at him to something else... He had reason to believe it might even be fear. She wouldn't make eye contact, she hadn't moved from her chair, but she was hugging herself tightly, staring at the floor beneath the table until her eyes seemed to glaze over.

[Ears]

Adrian Anderson
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 01:23:12; Everett, Pamela's Pie Palace]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor, Edge: 5 / 6

Watching Saint, Adrian's mind is consumed by one thought: Not again. Please, not again...

As the - by now almost usual - catastrophe unfolds, he can only console himself in two ways. At least, she didn't run out. At least it's not adoration. Fear and hate - while still painful - were relatively bearable compared to the unjustified devotion he had evoked in a few people before. For a second he can't help but think of the stalker who had followed him for a while, turning up everywhere, picking fights, thinking his "spellworm best buddy is gonna kick ass(es)".

Having gone through this before doesn't completely help keeping the hurt he feels at these accusations from creeping into his voice.

I... Saint, I didn't plant anything in your mind, I wouldn't do that; couldn't even if I'd want to and I don't wanna ever learn to. And I, I don't read minds. Damn, been here a hundred times, still not getting easier. Sorry.
It's more like an improved version of what everybody does. You know, how people say that someone's beaming with joy, fuming with anger, green with envy; for me they're not just metaphors, if I concentrate on someone, I can actually see strong emotions, no thoughts and only strong emotions - such as with Dr. Bailey who was radiating both regret and grim determination when dead prostitutes came up.

Taking a moment's pause, Adrian sips at his tea. On to the big fish...

How to trust me? How to trust anyone in this kind of worldf? Honestly, I got no easy answer. One has to go with his gut feeling.
Taking the spoon out of his tea cup, he licks it, places it on his napkin and pushes it into the middle of the table. Guess Moose was right that I'm the kind of guy who'd mess up his cover in record time.
And I guess someone has to start wit it. My real name's Adrian Anderson, licensed magical practitioner and pilot. Last I checked, using a counterfeit SIN was a crime. Make an anonymous tip-off with my DNA here and my cab registration and even Knight Errant might be bothered to get active. I'm sorry for not telling you sooner and for how you are feeling now. Only thing in my defense I can say is: If one part of you caused practically everybody you meet to think of you either as a demon or some kind of freak superman before you had any chance of registering as a person, would you really hurry to share it?

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 01:23:58; Everett, Pamela's Pie Palace]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

It took her a moment, but she looked back up to him a moment. She'd had time to withdraw, but she caught on the words he'd said at the last part. He did seem genuinely hurt as well, she didn't have to read his mind to do that. And from how he described it, he did pretty much the same thing she did on a daily basis. Which was about the same time she felt like she'd totally made a complete ass out of herself.

Here he was spilling the beans about his personal matters, when she'd have never told the truth in the first place. He really didn't seem the type to lie very well, and his points were valid enough. This business wasn't filled with friendly, charitable faces; this was the real world after all. It was hard coming to grips that she'd totally over-reacted, but she'd never seen a mage before, and now that she took a second look at him, even with the new label she had for him, he still didn't look any different than he did before. No magical astral wings, a severe lack of magical symbols or crazy wizard robes. In fact, he looked Joe Average, if he was magical, he had to be hiding it on purpose. She had secrets of her own, and she planned to keep them just that.

"I-- I'm sorry," she managed, even though she couldn't look him in the eye when she said it. The shame on her face was pretty obvious. "I feel like a massive slitch now," letting out a nervous laugh while she spoke, "I didn't know you guys could be-- well, so lame."

Then she realized she'd did it again, not fully able to call on her central powers of foot-in-mouth remover. Her eyes went wide, realizing she'd probably offended him. "Oh my god, I didn't mean for it to come out that way. Please don't turn my pie into a monster that wants to eat me!" She was talking a mile a minute, flinching as if expecting the worst when she was finished. The serious apology, and the plea for her life were honest, but it didn't stop it from being at least a little bit amusing.

[Ears]

Adrian Anderson
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 01:24:01; Everett, Pamela's Pie Palace]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor, Edge: 5 / 6

Waiting for Saint's reaction, he wonders what it'll be and how to behave. His right hand decides to take the fork and put some cake into his mouth.

Still not running, a good sign at least.

As Saint's apology he wants to open his mouth, remembers the cake, swallows and... Lame?

Before he can react to that, she fires off another salvo of words.

Genuine the outburst is, Adrian still can't help but smile a little at the idea of the cake getting up and moving on its own.

Nah, wasting good cake that way would be... lame.

That the right time to make jokes? Between lame and dangerous you want her to decide on the latter?

Sorry, couldn't resist that one. It's Ok, I'm not gonna hurt you. Look, we've both had a tough night, how 'bout we catch some sleep, think it over and meet again, say in the afternoon?

Sleep, hah! And dream of exploding heads. Guess I'd better go see my uncle first.

[Aria]

Balefire
[Tuesday June 14th, 2072; Under the Sintec Facility, Downtown Seattle]

The quiet was shattered by a sudden grinding and then crash as a rent wing mirror finally gave up its fight against gravity and crashed down on the still form of one of the corpsec team. Cobalt’s high velocity rifle spun slowly to a stop, the barrels glowing a dim red against the darkness of the chameleon cloaked form.

Bale’s voice came weakly across the comm

<<Sound off, who’s still here?>>

<<Still alive, barely>> Requiem

<<Yes, I’m still here>> Silk replied

<<Now let’s get the frag out>> Riptide

<<Amen! Sounds like they’ve finally realised we’re too much to handle. A call went out to Knight Errant and they are inbound. We do not want to tangle with them! I’m recalling my drones and bugging out, see you at the rendezvous>>

Silk struggled out from behind the crumbling car that had been sheltering her, favouring her shoulder and inwardly wincing at the sticky feeling of blood that was restricting her movements. Her mind instinctively catalogued her surroundings, the ruined bodies and the traces of the fight in the smells of cordite and the streaks left in concrete and vehicles from stray rounds. Her chrono and senses told her that the fight had lasted a brutal twenty seconds, no more, it was the strange effect of ‘combat time’ that made it feel so much longer.

<<Are our charges ok? We lost Emma, did the others make it?>>

<<For now. Sam is injured but he’ll live. You take the decoy Rover. We’ll jam your signal through the link and we can scrub the vehicle for tags once we are a distance away, or just ditch it>>

So they had rescued four of the nine, and the cost was higher still considering the damage these bastards did to the tribe when they came hunting. The loss of a research lab would barely dent Sintec’s bottom line but hopefully liberating these people would slow whatever their foul research hoped to achieve. There was even a chance that they had their data backed up on site, the fire above them might eat through their servers and cause significant harm.

***

About a mile from the rendezvous Silk and Requiem pulled over. As far as they could tell they had avoided pursuit for now but given they were using one of Sintec’s motor pool it seemed prudent to change vehicles now rather than spend the time trying to clean it for digital tags. It wouldn’t take long for Knight Errant to track their route through the gridguide cams if they wanted to, it depended on how much Sintec wanted to involve them, so this underpass offered them a momentary haven.

Levering herself gingerly out of the passenger seat Silk climbed down. She lifted the helmet away from her head, wiping the sweaty strands of hair off her face and drying any traces of tears. Requiem was limping badly and the people they had liberated weren’t in much better shape.

Peeling back the blood soaked armour it took all of Silk’s willpower to stop herself crying out. Even then a whimper escaped her as the medpatch was stuck on just over the reddened flesh around the exit wound. At least the round had gone through cleanly and she still seemed to have some use of her arm. She had been shot a couple of times before and it wasn’t something that she particularly wanted to repeat. Usually the work that they did was more successful and everyone walked away unscathed.

While first aid was applied to all their wounds a signal was sent out to their backup vehicle; a basic Americar that had been tasked with circling the run site on a random route waiting for their call. The thrum of its ethanol engine was very welcome and the four of them climbed in onto the plastic sheets thoughtfully spread across the interior to catch any rogue forensic evidence.

***

As they pulled up beside Opium’s Hermes van Silk took particular note of the feed from the invisible gasbag drone hovering above them. It provided a reassuring degree of aerial surveillance for a significant distance around them, and barring milspec grade sensors, should be more or less undetectable. She had been taught not to rely on it, but it felt good to have the tactical grid up again. Tonight’s activities were proof enough that it sometimes was unavailable and there was always the risk of it being compromised as Riptide had done to their opponents.

The team’s Roadmaster was also there and this would make a more convenient meeting place for the team and the people they had rescued. Opium would join them via AR feed as usual; the illusive hacker could be the other side of the world for all that Silk knew. She did know that her skills and the drones she manipulated with them had saved their collective arses tonight.

Wearily the runners gathered in the back of the truck, gratefully slumping into the comfortable seats installed for just that purpose.

Bale stood as they clambered on board and helped them in one by one. He gruffly indicated that Silk should peel the remainder of her armour off, and sitting in her underwear she withstood the numb stares of the people they had liberated. Requiem received similar treatment, gingerly removing his armour and the body glove under it. Silk watched once more in amazement as Bale worked his magic, the wounds in Requiem’s leg visibly scarring over under the gentle blue light that emanated from Bale’s palms.

By the time he was finished he was staggering from exhaustion but the worst of their injuries where nothing more than painful memories. That wasn’t to say they weren’t hurting, if another significant threat came after them now they would probably just stare at it as it ripped through them.

***

After the brief rest that was all Bale would allow them he addressed their charges

“Sam, Casie, John, David…” the bewildered quartet just nodded mutely “We’re going to take you back to Prospero now. The tribe had to move on after the attack and they’ve relocated to the south so don’t worry if you don’t recognise where you’re going. You’re safe now with us. I’m Bale, this is Silk, Requiem and Riptide in the front. Opium’s out there somewhere” he gestured vaguely “keeping an eye on us all. There will be time for questions later, just take it easy now and we’ll get you home. If there’s anything you need let one of us know…”

[Aria]

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 20:22 PM; CZ, Chicago]

With the battle turning unexpectedly against them the attackers seemed to disappear like cockroaches under a torch beam. An apt but uncomfortable analogy given where the runners find themselves. The tall suited figure turns back to his fallen comrade and appears to dismiss him. Evidently life is as cheap here as ever. Striding towards Copperhead he disengages the helmet seals on his armour and with a hiss, slides it off his head. Copperhead sees revealed a slightly sweaty but otherwise attractive elf, aren’t all daisy eaters too attractive for their own good?

His companion follows suit, although the more robust figure turns out to be an orc with an interesting array of nanotats writhing over his face.

“Thanks for the intervention. Bastards seemed to know we were coming. Just hope they don’t know where we’re heading. You can call me Requiem…the ugly one is Stitch…”

[Aria]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 11:23; Outskirts of Oxford, UK]

Half an hour or so after leaving Kreig’s you are approaching the outskirts of Oxford in your borrowed wheels. The dreaming spires come into view, along with the corporate glass and steel monstrosities in the business district to the east of the centre. A hastily downloaded visitors guide lets you know that going to Oxford is like stepping back in time to a better place…for those with money no doubt, some things never change and it has its underbelly just like any other metropolitan area. You are bound for the centre however, and a meeting with this Professor that Argent set up for you before she whisked herself off to wherever it is that astrally projecting types go to…

You will need to leave your gas guzzler on the outskirts, no cars are permitted in the centre without the proper authorisations, which needless to say you don’t have. You can either take the bus in and act like tourists or hoof it. Kreig assured you that your more dubious possessions will be safe enough in the smuggling compartments of the motor until you are able to come back for them…

[mister__joshua]

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 20:22 PM; CZ, Chicago]

Jess emerged out of some nearby rubble from where she had been viewing the action. She wasn't much for this full-on combat. Too messy and not nearly discrete enough. Fortunately she was good at being discrete and inconspicuous, so normally managed to avoid such situations.

She stood next to Copperhead and gave this new group a looking over before timidly introducing herself.

[Notsoevildm]

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 20:22 PM; CZ, Chicago]
PAN: Hidden, SIN: Charlotte Church

Frag, hope he doesn't take the 'keeb' remark seriously. You never know with elves.

She slides her goggles back onto her forehead and loosens the respirator, giving the pair a friendly, tusky smile.

"Pleased ta meetcha. Nice tats bro. I'm Copperhead. Gangbanger and magic support. Although wid da background count here, mainly da former. Our decker is Ælias. Hey Ælias, you can come outs now. Dey is runned away. And Jess is.."

She breaks off as the elf woman steps out of cover and lets her introduce herself, taking the time to replace the drum on the Enfield with a fresh one.

Yeah, what the frag are you, Jess?

She nods to where Requiem's fallen teammate lies.

"Sorry about yer chummer. I fink its best we sticks together till we gets outta here. We spotted a fragging B-U-G earlier and da locals so far aint been too fraggin friendly."

She chews on a ration bar while they discuss options and sips water from her canteen. Only when they agree to move on does she reseal her mask and pull the goggles back down. Requiem and Stitch take point as they are at least stealthier than she is. Copperhead follows a little behind, but close enough to back them up if they run into trouble. Ælias and Jess bring up the rear.

[RdMarquis]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 11:23; Outskirts of Oxford, UK]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

A scornful chuckle escapes the adept's mouth. "You know, my old man always wanted me to go to a school like Oxford. I presume he was hoping for different circumstances, though." The place reminded him of home, which wasn't a good thing. Oxford was entirely too much like Bellevue. Thousands of people living in the sort of luxury and security only an absolute authority could provide.

Mordred knew he resembled the type of person this authority wanted to keep away from its citizens. In an attempt to blend in just a little better, he had swapped his earlier outfit for a dark blue suit, and made a token attempt at tidying his hair. "I say we walk," he said quietly, trying to avoid being overheard. "Try not to look like we're all together in a group, and talk through our commlinks." The adept had also taken along what he could conceal in his suit. A taser, the autopicker, and some ammunition.

[Fairy]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 11:23; Outskirts of Oxford, UK]
PAN=Active; SIN:Nina Okada

The taser fits right into her back pocket. It even comes equipped with a neat little laser light and a total of 12 taser darts. Tsubaki humbly accepts the little bit of equipment Kreig's Motors provides for her...

The lack of effort the man called Mordred takes in an attempt to conform all the hairs on his head in the way nature planned it bothers Tsubaki. She will step up beside him, reach up with a single hand, and tend to the one stray strand at the back of his head that was missed. It's because Tsubaki is nice like that. Distracted more so, but it's really because the woman is being nice. Really. So, as Mordred suggests the route by foot, the woman gladly replies simply, "I like walking." She wonders how the others felt about it, too. It sounded like they all weren't going to lose or gain any time on foot or by public transportation.

[RdMarquis]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 11:23; Outskirts of Oxford, UK]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

The adept didn't quite know what to say or do. Perhaps the issue was that her gesture was a friendly one. For Mordred, physical contact was usually violent, and his only reply was a swift, vicious counter attack. Here, it would have been an overreaction, to say in the least. The adept continued walking for a second or two before looking back to say, "Thank you." Mordred looked over Tsubaki's shoulder to see if Collot and his son were alright.

[JxJxA]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 11:23; Outskirts of Oxford, UK]
PAN - Active ; SIN - Maximilien Danton

Gemeaux grimaces at the prospect of going on foot. First, I endure a flight in a commonplace cargo plane. Then, I am subjected to a cramped drive in a towncar. Now, I am expected to walk? How quaint. At least I am properly dressed for the weather. He pulls his long coat over his new change of clothes, a loose long-sleeved casual shirt, sweater vest, and a pair of designer jeans. He had taken the opportunity to change back at Krieg's, throwing away the entire set. While only the pants were torn, the set was ruined---not to mention a dead giveaway for any bobby worth his baton looking for a Frenchman dressed in stylish spring wear.

He slips his two pistols into concealed holsters. One goes in the coat and one under the vest. He grabs his spare pistol clips, and takes them along as well. He leaves the more telling tools of his trade back in the car. After all, one does not simply walk into Oxford armed to the teeth like a gun-toting hooligan.

"I am ready to leave when you are," he says to the others.