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

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 18th, 2072, 05:00:00 The Pad]

Becca you're so beautiful. I love you so much...I love when you do that thing you do. *WHAM* Why do you want it so rough now? Jack blinked. That wasn't Becca's hand... Jack rubbed his eyes clearing his vision a bit. An angry old hag stood in front of him. Jack sat up. More in shock than anything else Jack responded, "What the hell?" What are you doing in my home? Jack saw the troll from last night sitting atop an ammo crate, cleaning and polishing a gun that may have well been bigger than Jack's entire body. Then Jack realized he was as naked as one can get. This was a peculiar moment, because though he couldn't remember much about the previous night he could have sworn his clothes were on then. He looked at the troll and then at the old lady and decided ignorance is bliss, and ran to put some clothes on in the bathroom.

He looked at the clock when he was going through his morning routine out of habit. The numbers showed 5:01am. He clearly had a nightmare, Jack never had awaken before eight in this life. Most of the time he didn't get out until the crack of noon. He looked around and pinched himself. His fears confirmed he was awake. He peeked out of the bathroom there was the old woman who looked like she was about to start yelling at him to hurry up. This was worse than a nightmare, it was reality. Because of his respect for Hawke, Jack wanted to maintain his composure and not kill the old woman. Fear of retaliation from the troll may have played a small part as well. He rinsed off in the shower in ice cold water and put clothes on quickly before the woman gave him and even bigger headache.

He walked toward the kitchen area, avoiding ammo crates and grabbed some food so he could pop his morning meds. He felt he would need them this day. He forced a smile, choked back some of the more violent thoughts in his head, looked at the troll and said, "Thanks for getting me home last night."

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 18th, 2072, 05:02:00 The Pad]

The troll smiled in a eerie and over-familiar manner, "No problem chummer, this is the most comfortable night I've spent in a place, having a roof over my head was nice... the bed was a bit small though." He put the gun back in the crate and got up off of his perch. "Anya here says she's volunteered to teach you something about guns and since I've got to lay low for a few days till the meet, I thought I'd tag along."


"Niet! You boys going to sleep all day? We have work to do! First you make me breakfast, then we go shoot those yellow bastards from last night!" Anya's very animated and obviously insane demeanor left Jack the impression that he was not the only person in the room short on medication. "Anya, thats biz for me 'n lexi and you know it. Cant have this greenie out there anyways. Why does lexi like him so much?"

Anya shook her head violently as she angrily attempted to remove the placating hands that were lifting her onto the bed. "Niet! The bastards must pay for the killings last night!"

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 18th, 2072, 05:14:00 The Pad]

Out of all of the rambling between the troll and the old woman, the one thing Jack agreed with was breakfast. Though he had some soymeal with flavoring packets to take his pills, a larger breakfast with actual food might be a good way to improve this day. If his previous dealings with this woman were any indication he would need the energy. Hopefully he would be able to get the education he wanted and be able to defend himself against further home invasions. It seemed a good win-win to him and Jacked like winning. Jack decided to run to a nearby food mart and purchase some spices and eggs and actual ingredients to make omelets.

Jack returned quickly and made omelets for the three of them with few words being exchanged between himself and the other two. They were already at it talking about revenge tactics anyway. This meant little to Jack, he was helping Hawke in a different way and felt no need to go on any suicide mission. He wasn't trained for it even if Hawke did want him to go along. Jack's mind kept daydreaming to the coming game. He kept running statistics and numbers in his head, playing the odds as best he could to make it look good. He planned to come back to game there later, preferably without the sponsor making him take a loss. The record would suffer, but the cash that had been given to him helped ease the pain a bit.

"All right, let's do this."

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 18th, 2072, 05:15:00 The Pad]

The murmuring stopped and both the troll and Anya looked around to where Jack had been quietly ruminating over his breakfast. "Ok tell you what, we'll meet you at the range for practice in 10 minutes?" The troll got up and ushered Anya out the door. Before he moved out himself however, Jackal turned and said, "Oh and by the way... you may want to hide that ammo a bit better... no idea why you keep so much hardware in plain sight. I thought you were the one that needed training?"

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast / Scratch
[April 18th, 2072, 00:31:30, Abandoned Wharf, 76th Pl W, Everett]

The old man merely sat there for a few seconds as Scratch began to feel more and more uncomfortable as he seemed to lean towards her and peer with laser intensity into her eyes. Scratch felt almost as if an invisible hand was gently moving her thoughts around, as they streamed through her mind almost at light speed. I wonder if this is what it is to die.

Strangely, Scratch felt no remorse, if this man was going to kill her as it seemed then at least it was a gentle way to leave the world. She could see now that he was quite obviously not all that he appeared as a light blue nimbus had surrounded him and seemed to be flowing out to reach toward her.

Abruptly the light faded and she felt her mental pace return to it's old and familiar routine of worrying over every detail, every bit of information that meant survival. Before she had time to go into a fit the man smiled and rose from the oil can he'd been perched on, "You are lucky you have no intent to harm my domain Miranda. The supplicant is waiting for you and you are safe her while on my docks."

A hefty chuckle echoed from the broken down attendants shack as Col stepped outside, "Oh frag off it, you knew you were going to let her in the moment you spoke to her. Thanks for the protection though, I appreciate it." Col looked to Scratch and winced slightly, "Sorry for the theatrics but this is the only safe place outside the ACHE that I know of these days, specially with all the missing. You better come inside."

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
[April 18th, 2072, 05:15:42 The Pad]

Maybe it had been the missing coffee, soykaf or otherwise, but Jack was slowly able to put two and two together. "Hold on a moment, this isn't my ammo. I thought you brought this in?" Jack wondered if his 'dead' mother had left him another present. He looked at the crates with the troll still barely fitting in the doorway. "Do she bring this in here?" Jack half said it to himself and then realized that this thoughts were verbalized and gestured toward the direction of the irritating woman who had just left his abode.

Jack went over and grabbed his link to check for messages to see if anything explained the crates. How in the world? Jack didn't know if he should be worried or not, but while his system was still waking up he was a bit bewildered.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
[April 18th, 2072, 05:15:50 The Pad]

Checking his commlink revealed no new messages or apparent activity. Feeling rather clueless, Jack shrugged and walked out the door after the troll, pausing to close it as he did so. "Erm, I'm not quite sure what to think about all that... not to mention how it got into these apartments...." Jack went silent as he rounded the corner to the elevators and noticed the seemingly huge security camera pointing down the hallway, "and how the hell I'm supposed to get it all back out".

The troll laughed and shrugged his shoulders as they waited for the elevator to descend the 8 stories from his level to the underground parking garage, "I don't know but it's a fragging nice win for you eh Wild? Anyways we'll be shooting alot today hopefully and then a nice ol' card game the day after. My idea of a vacation is any time I'm not getting shot at; by the way, names Jackal."

[RdMarquis]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:31:44, Dust 514, UCAS Server, Lounge]
SIN: Morgan Senlis, PAN: Active

The witch smiled faintly at the Sleuth sprite. That made two services. "You have lived up to your reputation, and your obligation to me is now complete. I release you." With that, Forcas disintegrated, the droplets of mercury comprising him floating off into the ether. Morgan's expression returned to a frown. And yet, she was basically back where she started. She knew where the girl was, and that she was revealing too much about herself simply by meeting her physical needs. But there was no way to act on this information. At least, within her own means.

Morgan opened a magic circle in the wall of the server, and stepped through it. On the other side was the familiar palatial design of her house's node. Hovering closer, she began looking for her parents' commlinks. "You've decided to eat your words, I see." The witch nodded distractedly. "Mmm." Were they set to hidden?

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:52:27 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

How do I want to do this? In my doss with a beer and infinite retries in Miracle Shooter, of course.

OK, let's go over to the door. I'll go through it first, you'll wait 30 seconds, watch for anything suspicious then follow. I'm gonna go right and use those bushes for as much cover as possible, try the same when you follow me. We'll meet up at the house's back door and see whether Tony's done his thing there as well.

He better have or we're gonna have to find out how to walk through walls; silently.

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
Adrian Anderson
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 05:12:30; Redmond; a cellar]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor, Edge: 5 / 6

The drive home had been uneventful - a welcome respite from this night's events - and a good opportunity to think things over.

The spirits seemed to be on Adrian's side again; the members of the gang that "owns" the building he lives in had only nodded at him when he parked his bike; just this one time foregoing the usual illicit offers and derogatory remarks when he declines. Even more surpirsing, he even got five minutes of shower time - cold water, asking for more would be ludicrious.

In his small abode, fresh incense smoke wafting through the otherwise damp room, his head had barely touched the tatami mat he slept on before he fell asleep.
...
Waking up with a scream, Adrian takes a few minutes to realise that he had escaped his strange nightmares of armies of dolls with exploding heads, giant spiders that suck the magic out of entire stellar systems and a possesed taxi hunting him through the streets of Seattle.

Time to wake up, anyway.

Putting on some clothes that could be said - by a benevolent observer, at least - to be still OK, he proceeds to climb the stairs leading to his bike. Just as he is about to drive off, he remembers where exactly is about to head.

I better get rid off my vest and taser.

After a brief return to his doss, he finally blasts off, heading for Snohomish.

[Aria]

@Fortune's Forecast / Scratch
[April 18th, 2072, 00:33:37, Abandoned Wharf, 76th Pl W, Everett]

Scratch shook her head to try and clear the fog away…what the hell…!

"Fraggit Col, you’re scaring the shit out of me! You said you might be able to help me find Summer, you make me trek out here and then tell me it’s safe?!”

The anger helped to mask the feeling of things slipping away from her

"Just wait until Ma gets hold of you! I think she’d have a thing or two to say about what’s going on here! Cummon then, what are we still doing hanging about out here? I hope inside is a bit more stable than out here, a swim is the last thing I want tonight…”

[Aria]

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 22:06 PM; CZ, Chicago]

As you begin to move down the rusted gantry ladder into the stygian gloom you feel a waft of warm fetid air coming up from the depths below. There is a distinct feeling that whatever lies between you and your quarry isn’t friendly!

Ælias scowls ahead into the darkness "I can’t get through. Don’t know if I’m being jammed or if they just don’t want any signal leaking out…? All this crap…" and he indicates the decaying machinery "isn’t exactly helping either."

Stitch leads the way and you plunge on. Snake can still dimly been heard over the general astral static of this place hissing imprecations. As you go deeper there are increasing signs that hands other than metahuman had a hand in shaping this place and in many ways you are glad that you can’t see details too clearly.

When you are in the equivalent of the third basement level, perhaps ten to fifteen meters below the surface, the trail that Stitch seems to have been following evidently peters out. Suddenly from above you there is a shriek of metal and a large arachnid looking thing launches itself out of the girders and plunges towards him…it is barely visible to thermal vision and the lowlight flashlights make little impact on its mottled carapace…

[Aria]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 12:07; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]

The Professor ponders Anselm’s words for a moment and then smiles at you again,
"Hmmm, that should not be a problem. Mademoiselle Argent has authorised me to exercise my considerable contacts on your behalf and a registration licence is in some ways easier to acquire than a firearms one, at least for me. I take it you will be wanting the latter? Don’t worry, you shall all be travelling scholars on an extended field trip. I have a couple of favours owed to me from one of the noble estates near Taunton, they will be your initial destination. Now, for somewhere to stay until I can get things together…there is a discrete little guest house in the north of the city, little being a subjective term, yes that should suit your needs admirably. Now, is there anything else I can do for you before we part company?"

[Notsoevildm]

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 22:06 PM; CZ, Chicago]
PAN: Hidden, SIN: Charlotte Church

The minutes tick by slowly as they descend through claustrophobic corridors and rooms filled with rusting machinery. The walls, and even the equipment, seem to grow more organic the deeper they go. Worry and fear leak from the team and Snake's indistinct hissing only enhances her own nervousness.

How could they think this was a safe place to hide those kids.

Pausing a moment to wipe sweat from her brow and adjust her mask, the sudden shrieking of metal is her only warning of the bug's attack.

"Bug! Shoot it!", she yells as she tries to bring the big gun to bear before the thing can reach Stitch.

She hopes the bullets will work. She knows that the more powerful the spirit, the more difficult it can be to harm it with mundane weapons. She chides herself for not switching the ammo drum for the APDS one. Her feet move her forward without her own accord and she can feel Snake's presence, close now, as her features distort into those of a serpent despite the goggles and mask she wears.

[Aria]

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 22:06 PM; CZ, Chicago]

The roar of Copperhead's shotgun lights up the gloom, the echos of the thunder coming back to you umpteen times from the depths below. Despite the darkness and the barely visible target the solid shotgun slugs impact in the things hide...and sparks rather than the expected ichor spring out. Her second shot rips one of its limbs off and with a squeel the thing crashes to the ground at Stitch's feet, a leg inefectually scrabbling at him until he fires his own weapon point down into the thing's brain pan.

"Fragging drone looks like...certainly looks like a bug on the outside but it's bleeding oil!"

[Notsoevildm]

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 22:06 PM; CZ, Chicago]

"Wat da frag!", grumbles the snake-headed troll over the ringing in her ears, her shamanic mask reverting slowly back to goggles and respirator.

She steps close to the sparking drone and carefully prods it with the toe of a combat boot.

"Frag, I really thought it was a bug. Damn near pissed my pants."

"Ya know da boss lady nevah said anyfing about drones. I'm thinkin maybe dis belongs to whoever is snoopin' around. Would explains why dey wasn't willing ta talks to ya, Ælias."

She snaps out the Enfield's ammo drum and replaces it with the one loaded with APDS.

"But dat means dey is already here or is at least close by. And if dey is, dey sure knows now dat we is here too. So let's move it and find our deckers before anyone else gets ta dem."

She ratchets the action on the Enfield and nods at Stitch to move out, taking up her position at the rear so she can cover them all.

[RdMarquis]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 12:05; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

"I think what we have planned so far will be adequate." Mordred holds out his hand to the professor. "Thank you."

[Aria]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 12:05; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]

"Excellent, excellent! Please pass on my regards to Mademoiselle Argent when you speak with her next. I will contact you as soon as the arrangements are in place...for now here is the address of the boarding house..." and he fires a link to your PANs.

The details are sparse but a cross check against the local grids gives you a bit more intel. It is a registered guest house, apparantly all booked up, clearly you need to be in-the-know to get a room there. It should be perfect! First check-in isn't until three so you have a couple of hours to kill wandering Oxford if you want to. It will take you about half an hour to walk the distance to North Oxford unless you want to hail one of the electric taxis to save your legs...

[Aria]

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 22:06 PM; CZ, Chicago]

The silence is ominous after the roar of combat and your adrenalin levels aren't about to come down anytime soon. You plunge deaper into the maze of decaying below ground rooms, following some trail that Stitch is leading you on. Suddenly up ahead, down a long stretch of service tunnel, a light blooms as a heavy door is opened. You hear the frantic sound of whispered conversation and then suddenly it slams shut again. The sound of scuttling can be heard, the sound of either mechanical or chitin claws isn't clear...

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
Adrian Anderson
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 06:45:00; Snohomish; inside a Buddhist temple]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor, Edge: 5 / 6

As always the contrast between Redmond, well any other part of Seattle really, and Snohomish was extreme. Decrepit buildings, torn streets, open violence there and trees - actual, healthy trees -, well-kept roads and an almost serene mood (if you kept away from the big agricultural enterprises) here.

As always, he had taken the roundabout route 'recommended' to him should he want to enter the area his Uncle's temple was located in unanounced.

As always, he had been spotted about two kilometres out from his destination and then discreetely followed by two Koreans on motorcycles not unlike his own.
The Komun'go ring had this area firmly under control and guarded it and the temple - owned and cared for by a foundation established by a wealthy Korean 'business man' on his dying bed- within. It fact, it was part of a small compound housing not only the Buddhist temple but also a Shinto shrine, several shamanic huts and a small church; whatever the benefactor had done in this life, it seems he had felt the need to garner goodwill from more than one source in the next.

Waiting for his uncle to exit the room he performed his morning meditation in, Adrian thought about whether a life of causing suffering could really be balanced out by one grand gesture at the end of it.

So, you're not here to stay. Yet you have come. Certainly to ask for something. How dare you, you insolent pup!

His uncle had snuck up on and surprised him. Before Adrian has any chance of recovering, his uncle continues with a chuckle.

Still as easy to spook, are we? Ah, it's nice to see my favourite - and only - nephew again. Come on, let's have tea.

Turning without waiting for Adrian, his uncle Wu heads for the kitchen.

Guess we'll both need it when you've told me why you're here; I feel trouble around you. Tell me, if you manage to find your voice, that is.

Scrambling after him, Adrian tries to recover for a appropriately witty reply.

Still makes me feel like a small kid, in a way my parents heven't in a long time.

...

Most of the events of the last 24 hours told, the two drink their second can of tea, Adrian finally getting to Dr. Bailey's office.

...a way serene like here, in fact very much like here, yet different, slightly off key, shifted in a ways. As for the man himself, it felt even more profound with him, he had the aura of someone in equlibrium, but still coiled, ready to unleash great forces. And he seemed to be covered in a sort of black net, tainting the very mana it came in contact with....

[RdMarquis]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 12:05; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

Encouragement wasn't exactly his forte, but Mordred had a few words of assurance for Monsieur Collot. "Nearly there. We just have to do a little more driving. How are you doing?" On an escort job, it wasn't enough that the runners were prepared and equipped to get the job done. You had to consider the needs of the person being moved from Point A to B. Speaking of which, so long as they had some spare time, the adept decided to contact the person who had given him this advice.

Mordred sent a quick message to his (other) mentor. What do you know about Clearwater in the UK? Also, does the name Argent mean anything to you?

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 05:17:27 Leaving 'The Pad'

The troll seemed a reasonable sort, most of the trolls he'd known at this first place were all security grunts. Some were more friendly than others but they were usually fairly easy marks for a couple of quick bucks with a game of poker or a five finger discount when earning money wasn't an option. Jack felt no need to test this particular troll, he was going to teach him another aspect in survival. Jack needed all the friends he could get out here. It was painfully obvious how alone he felt away from where he had grown up for most of his life. Friends like Becca came around once in a lifetime. It seemed to Jack that the stars that shine the brightest also burn out the fastest. Jack worried for Becca in that moment for no other reason than it had been too long since he had seen his best friend.
Turning to Jackal, "So Jackal? How does one earn the name Jackal? Or should I wait until after we're done shooting to ask that question over a keg or two, my treat of course."
Jack followed the troll out of the building wondering only briefly about the ammo crates and if his mom had some news for him or if it had anything to do with her at all. It's going to be a fun day.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 05:17:45 Leaving 'The Pad'

The big troll just shook his head and pointed to a scar that traced from the top of his forehead all the way down to just above his adam's apple, "You live desperate, you fight desperate sometimes. I earned this one, the other guys, well they got what they deserved to kid." He paused for a second as they walked down to the wrecker that Jack recognized from the previous night, "you'll learn that too kid, you stick around long enough. Why stay around this life hmm? Trust me, it isn't all glitz and glam kid. My job is to keep you company at the tournament, and I'll do it too. It's a milk-job and life teaches you to take them when you can but don' count on us just being chummers k? I'll keep your back cause doin tha keeps my hide together for another night, and then you stay in this nice apartment yous got here. You don't want to get in with our kind, not when you have a choice, scan me?"

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 05:18:12 Leaving 'The Pad'

Glitz and glam? My place may be posh, but a prison is still a prison. "Impressive scars though, some lessons are tough to learn others are impossible to forget." Jack was more lost in thought at that moment. The troll was leading while talking but Jack couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. If Jackal thought this was easy money, then why did he get assigned for a simple card game. There was probably a lot more to this than just losing a card game. As far as Jack was concerned it was above his pay grade. Time to learn how to shoot.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:52:34 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

Sil nodded and Mark took off through the door, aiming for the bushes that seemed, at least in the semi-darkness, to be waiting animal guards watching over the small estate. Superstition or perhaps nerves made Mark halt for just a fraction of a second; enough for his less willing companion to pass him as they made cover behind a particularly large topiary carved in the fashion of a crane. "Frag!", Sil stumbled and fell backwards onto Mark, nearly knocking him over from the suddenness of the course change. The dim light revealed little but Mark could just make out the fact that Sil's arm wasn't in quite the right position, in fact it appeared to be much lower and wierdly shaped than it should have been in any normal circumstance.

Muffled cries echoed in the still night air that had suddenly gone much more than eerily quite, as if the whole world was spectating, as Sil bit and bit hard on his black duster. Closer inspection, as long as it took because of Mark's already frayed nerves, revealed that his compatriots whole shoulder had been sliced cleanly and only a few mere tendons held the arm to its owner. Given the injury it was a miracle that Sil was even alive but the slim man had quick reflexes and had instantly ripped open an clotting factor from his med kit and managed to get the bleeding to stop.

"G'damned monowire..." All the words that Sil could spit out without screaming and a vague motioning hand spasm directed Mark's searching gaze to where he would have been gutted if not for that fortuitous stumble which had made him seconds slower than Sil. Hanging in the pale-orangey haze was the faintest glimmer of a strand stretching from the topiary at a diagonal and fading into the distance amongst the bushes, it was much easier to see now that it was quietly dripping blood but the sinister nature of the slow, repetitive drips put Mark even more on alert than he had been.