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

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:22:15 Lobby, Bottom Floor, on the way to the Pad

The plumber looked shocked and two other employees sidled away, as if scared to become tainted by associating with a known terrorist. Jake looked quite fearful and said, "Hey man, I think it's garbage too but you've got to have done SOMETHING.... I mean... it sounds like there are some pretty heavy guys there... one guy talked about calling the Dawkins Group.... whatever that group is... but... he had loads of power you could just tell man. I'd steer clear if I were you man. There are 4 of them in your apartment right now... be careful man."

Deciding further contact with an undesirable was not worth his job, Jake sidled away muttering under his breath about fixing the toilet in apartment 346.

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:24:17 Lobby, Bottom Floor, on the way to the Pad

"You know anything about a Dawkins Group Jackal?" Instead of taking the elevator up to his floor Jack decided to take the stairs to see what he could preferably without drawing too much attention to himself. Jack made his way up the flights of stairs. Opening up the door to his hall quietly, he took a quick glance. Jack turned to Jackal while waiting in the stairwell. "I'll head inside but if you hear any gunshots or loud noises come save me quickly. I don't want to cause a disturbance if it's just some guys that the manager let into my apartment because the stupid AI in my house hates me and is causing life to be a living hell." Jack took a deep breath before heading to his place.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:24:20 Lobby, Bottom Floor, on the way to the Pad

Jackal half-growled at Jack, "Look kid... there are some things you don't use, specially on corper property like this.... and that's names... don't use it here. You see that cam there?" He motioned covertly over his shoulder to a camera that Jack really had never paid attention to before. "See.... what I know about that group is that you don't want them to know about you. So let's get out of here and we'll figure it out later."

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:27:00 Lobby, Bottom Floor, on the way to the Pad

The way Jackal made it sound Jack didn't know if he'd ever be going back to his house. He had never considered cameras to be really threatening before. If you can move so the camera can't catch what you are doing or have something properly distracting it's easy enough to pick a mark and leave wallet in hand. Maybe this is why he was given a fake ID by his mom years ago, all those vids he'd watched over the years, complete fantasy really, but maybe an element of it was real. Maybe his mom had known he'd need people outside of Horizon that didn't really know who he was.

He doesn't strike me to be the fearful type. I wonder if he's had a prior bad experience?

Thinking about his own history, it was simple enough for Jack to create a fake profile, Jackal however, seemed downright threatened by the use of his obvious nickname. It occurred to Jack that there was a huge difference between the amount of information needed to create a fake ID and setting up a couple of illegal gambling profiles as a minor. He started reviewing the information on the fake ID that he had been given by his mom years ago, he felt as though he would need to know it better soon enough.

"Ok, I guess." Besides some cheap clothing there wasn't anything other than the ammo in the room that was at all important. The ammo wasn't even his. What does any of this have to do with me? Terrorism? Some bizarre group that Jackal really wants to avoid?

Jack followed Jackal out in silence more in a contemplative mood trying to understand why he would matter to anyone, specifically this Dawkins Group. The inability to answer was more unnerving than calming. Once again, he felt truly alone.

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:55:23 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

Another short wait at the bottom of the stairs manages to drive Mark almost crazy.

Damn all this creeping around, why don't I just run up and shoot anything that moves? Cause her stupid cook isn't in need of killing; cause you're not here to get yourself killed; cause your target might get away if you stomp around like crazy.

He lets the timer run out and slowly proceeds up the stairs, keeping to the wall, hoping that this wooden construction doesn't creak.

Just because the work order's for the next set, doesn't mean these are OK.

Climbing up the stairs, he has enough time to get a good look at the inner courtyard, not his style but still a nice addition to a house - if you got the cred.

Second floor, Triad whore's living room, circa 2070. Damn it, focus!

Starting the timer yet again, Mark sweeps the room with his eyes, looking for the next set of stairs.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:55:23 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

Fortunately the stairs were as silent as the dead as the saying went. The second floor seemed a bit less well kept than he had expected but he could hear faint whispers down the corridor, away from the stairs, but still close enough to make his hair rise. A light below a door about ten feet down the hallway showed faintly in the darkness.

"裝運...它是當失去了？大約4天前...貨呢？大多保存完好...船上的船員之前已經發現了炸彈...它只是外面的環礁海灘，船長可以...雖然船是不可恢復的。良好的工作讓我知道如果有什麼變化。那些黑手黨的私生子要得到他們來...包準備嗎？是先生......它預計今晚將交付。"

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:27:15 Lobby, Bottom Floor, on the way to the Pad

Jack followed Jackal out the door into the night and it had never seemed so desolate. He kept thinking he'd hit bottom but every time he had an upset in life it always seemed to get worse. Jackal got in the wrecker and Jack mutely grabbed shotgun, no longer caring so much where he'd go, too numb to really think of anything.

What if it was just a mixup... I mean they could've just gotten something wrong. That's not my ammo after all... Somehow though, Jack didn't think the authorities would accept that as a reasonable defense. Thinking of all the recent crime prevention posters he had seen scattered around the docks area featuring that imposing troll prisoner named Bubba, Jack decided anything was better than getting locked up.

Jackal pulled over about after about fifteen minutes of driving into a dimly lit parking lot next to a stuffer shack. He killed the engine and sat for a few seconds before looking at Jack. "Now listen here kid. I don't owe you no favors and I don't know if I like you that much but I remember being out by myself a ways back and I figure you need to know somethin about life as it really is... You're bout as green as it comes kid. The Dawkins Group, I don't know what you did to get them after you but it ain't gonna be fun for you and it ain't gon be happy for me either, now I've been seen with you. They are heavy people... All I've heard is rumors but they are supposed to be some sort of elite intelligence group that works with Horizon. Like the dirty end of the Knight in shining armor mentality you think of right? Horizon isn't all nice and well, they are the not so nice end."

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:27:15, Outside a stuffer shack 15 minutes from the pad

Jack grabbed a bag of chips from the store and a drink. Jackal's insight had been enlightening, but a question emerged.
Now that I know my enemy what do I do? This is the group that likely murdered my father and forced my mother into hiding. They have been no doubt watching me since I was moved to this new apartment. So what do I focus on? What hurts Horizon the most? Hitting their bottom line, no doubts. So, this is why I needed the fake ID. Let's hope mom gets me something good for my birthday this year too.

He thought about his upcoming birthday, and then his plans with Becky. The anger that had been raging for so long pent up was coming to a boiling point and then just as quickly as it had started it was suppressed.

"So then, I get where you're coming from. I doubt you want someone like me, just tagging along. What would you recommend I do, since as you say I am so green? At least, until the card game, then I'm no longer your problem."

Ultimately Jack knew that the systematic destruction of Horizon was more than a one man job. Horizon hand given him a lot of things while growing up. Then they had taken away his family, and his best friend's family. He still didn't know where Becky stood on that subject. Not that she had any love for her own dad, it's still difficult to lose family. Jack tried to figure out, other than his connection with his mom, what could this Dawkins Group possibly want with him. He made a mental note before going to bed tonight to activate his new ID. Tomorrow his name would be Quincy Matthews.

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:55:27 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

What the? OK, just record it, might turn out to be interesting.

Fumbling a bit while trying to get the right combo of keys on his comm using his left hand - he won't put away his gun just to start a recording studio on the side -, Mark tries to capture as much of the conversation as possible, then proceeds towards the stairs leading to the third floor.

Two male voices. Damn it's so hard to recognise people's voices speaking another language. Gotta go with the info that he's on the third with his mistress. Of course if things go south, I got two potential hostiles on my six. And noone to watch it.

Reaching the next set of stairs, the one supposed to be problematic, he peeks up, decides to skip his planned wait period - this time he knows there's someone behind him who might choose to talk a walk at any moment - and heads up, again trying to avoid the usually more noise middle of the steps.

Too bad the work order wasn't more specific; yeah, why not wish for a cocktail while you're at it?

[JxJxA]

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

"Monsieur le professeur, that sounds like a lovely place. The last thing I would ask is if it is possible to request licenses to carry the tools of my trade. Other than that, all I can ask is for wine cellar stocked with something French, and a soft bed upon which to rest my head."

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:55:59 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

...we wait for that amateur to activate the traps on the stairs and... . Again, focus. Keep to the wall.

Slowly walking up the stairs, Mark tries to ignore the voices behind him and what they might mean. Hugging the wall as well as possible, the stairs - genuine wood it seems - nevertheless make some noise.

Are they really this loud or is it just my imagination? I wonder nobody's heard my heart beating, feels like it's trying to jump out and run off.

Hoping for the best, he proceeds up the stairs...

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:6:20 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

Mark slowly half-crawled, half-walked up the side of the stairs and slid his eyes just above the last stair so that he was just barely peering over the floor itself. No lights, except for the smallest glow from a recently blown out incense lantern probably some fifteen feet down the passageway towards the front of the house betrayed any sign of recent human inhabitation. The waxed hardwood floors shown faintly in the gloom and Mark slowed his breathing as much as he could. He had no formal training for this and no matter what he told Silvio he wasn't sure why Johnny had sent him after all.

Some sick test of loyalty this... assassinating a triad man at his whores house... the fuck kind of a job is this?

The goal lay straight up and around to the left, currently out of sight but, whether it was nerves or some other sense he couldn't feel the need to move, to burst into action.... to kill.

[Aria]

@Fortune's Forecast / Scratch
[April 18th, 2072, 00:35:42, Abandoned Wharf, 76th Pl W, Everett]

Tonight was turning into a real cluster frag. Everything seemed to be whirling and Scratch could feel her control over her emotions slipping, and that wouldn’t do anyone any favours…least of all Col who had lost so much more than she had…yet…

“Col, don’t beat yourself up about not being there. Ma could take care of herself and one more body would probably have been just that! I don’t want to lose you too you hear me?”

Glow City? Frag!

“Redmond is waay off my turf, if we’re going in there then we’ll need a guide…we are going in right? Just to check it out, I’m not talking guns blazing or anything. If we blend in maybe we won’t be noticed, especially if there are loads of kids there?” she hated the pleading note in her voice but she needed something right now…

[Aria]

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

Whilst Requiem guards your six, Stitch and the others join you at the door. Just as you are about to pound on it again a small viewing hatch slides open and bright light momentarily spills out across you.

“Frag me, I don’t know what’s happening today but you weren’t expected until tomorrow. We had another incoming group ambushed in the tunnels this morning and people are a little jumpy. Look, just let me see everyone’s face and then I can let you in, I just want to be sure ya scan?”

[Aria]

@E:PL UK / Mordred
[May 19th, 2072, 12:42; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]

Monsieur Collot clearly appreciates your efforts, even if they are a little stilted given your respective language differences. “Bien, it will be good to be somewhere safe! Thank you once again for sticking with us, I am sure others would not have done so…”

Despite the time difference and the fact that Nicholas was probably teaching you get a speedy response to your query <<Don’t know anything specific about a Clearwater in the UK, a quick search didn’t bring up much that looked relevant but I can have someone do some more digging if you need me to? Argent is a bit trickier, there are a number of people or organisations who use that handle, it’s silver, or cash in French so fairly widely used. There was a prime runner who used the name but he dropped off the scene a while ago. There’s a fixer here in Seattle who goes by that name too, how about giving me some more details and I’ll narrow that down for you?>>

@E:PL UK / Anselm
[May 19th, 2072, 12:42; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]

The professor nods sagely to you “I am sure that, should you enquire, a place can be found for your privacy. The special rooms in the cellars will be more than adequate I suspect as a haven…Now I am afraid that I must leave you, I have other business to conduct and although this conversation has been congenial time waits for no man and all that…”

Turning to your bodyguard come assassin he smiles one last time "I assure you that they deal in the best discrete service and I am sure that the wine will be of equal quality..."

[RdMarquis]

@E:PL UK / Mordred
[May 19th, 2072, 12:42; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

The adept's only response is a noncommittal nod. Mordred was a little distracted putting together his next message. Plus, there wasn't much else he could say. It was clear that it would take more than reassurances to change Mr. Collot's pessimistic views. Before he begins his next message, Mordred takes a quick look at his commlinks, double checking that the one displaying his SIN was on Active, while the one in his hand was Hidden. The information he was sharing was of a sensitive nature. Though the adept would trust Nick with his life, his firewall was another matter.

We're probably talking about the fixer. She was the one who hired me for this job. I'm to make sure a VIP makes it safely to Clearwater. By the way. From what I can tell, this Argent is a mage. She appeared to us in astral form earlier. I'd appreciate anything you can come up with, but what I really need to know is how far I can trust her. No hurry. I have a couple hours to kill. And thank you.

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:6:22 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

Some sick test of loyalty this... assassinating a triad man at his whore's house... the fuck kind of a job is this?

Mark gets ready to take the last few steps that will put him on the thrird floor, hesitates, checks the AR readouts for his gun, takes a deep breath and tries to will himself into motion.

The kind of job that's gonna get you killed if you don't do it. Think you can just walk out, tell 'em you didn't feel like it and they're like "Sure mate, why don't you go into accounting instead?" So, stop stalling, geek the guy and get the fuck outta here.

Slowly he finally sets foot onto the third floor, turns and heads for the room his target is supposed to lie.

Better hope he's poured enough drinks into this whore of his to knock her out cold.

[Notsoevildm]

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

Copperhead lets out a breath she didn't realise she was holding. It hisses passed her tusks and through the respirator. She pushes her goggles up onto her forehead where they are held in place by her horns and unhooks her large, bulky respirator letting it hang to one side.

Blinking against the bright light coming from the viewing hatch, she bends down to bring it to eye-level and gives a mostly friendly smile.

"I is Copperhead, team tusker and magical support. We is early cos none of us wants ta be in dis hellhole longer dan necessary. I guess dat goes fer youse too, neh?"

She holds the pose for a moment, trying to get a glimpse at the people beyond the door, then steps back to let the others introduce themselves. She then returns to the door.

"Okay, so me, Jess and Ælias are here fer da two kids, Jack an Jill. No wait, dat's not right."

She snaps metal fingers at Jess and Ælias.

"Hey, what's da kids' names again? ... Yeah, yeah dat's em."

She returns her attention to the door.

"Not sure who da boys is here for, but don't worry none, cos we'll take all a youse dat wants ta come. Maybe even squeeze a bonus outta Mrs J fer rescuing your hacker asses."

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:27:35, Outside a stuffer shack 15 minutes from the pad

Jackal seemed tense, uncertain and at least half-reluctant to even be next to Jack, but he didn't tell Jack to get out of the wrecker or edge away so that counted for something. "Finish the job you got from 'lexi.... and maybe this life is going to be more your style than I thought. Maybe not style, its a drek life man but you probably dont have a choice. One thing though, you get yourself a new ID, never talk about your past and you disappear k? Like nothing from your past life 'sides lexi and the crew and even then mebbe they'll ship you somewhere new for a bit, till the heat dies down. You aren't yourself anymore, no friends, new handle, nothing to get yourself caught again. Kid if you get me killed at Casino Corner, my ever-fragging spirit is gonna come and haunt your ass wherever you are scan me?"

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast / Scratch
[April 18th, 2072, 00:35:49, Abandoned Wharf, 76th Pl W, Everett]

Col's eyes seemed to bug out of his head, "Da frag you say?! Drek no I'm not taking my sorry hoop in there scan me? Sure some of my little ones are missing too, but damn if I'm going in there looking for frag knows what. That shit is WORSE than the SCIRE; you remember that dontcha?"Look, I toldja what I know and that's all scan me? Lissen Scratch, your a good friend, but I can't put my hoop on the line no more, I've got the rest of the gang to feed now...

[Aria]

@E:PL/Chi Town / Copperhead
[July 8th, 2072, 22:12 PM; CZ, Chicago]

Once you’ve been visually interrogated the door is opened with a scraping of hinges and protesting of hydraulics – the thing is bloody massive, good job you didn’t try bashing it down. The air that washes over you smells vaguely of CO2 scrubbers and dust but is infinitely better than the cloying damp of the tunnels you’ve been in. You hadn’t realised how fetid the air was out here until you felt the contrast.

The lights are bright and as your eyes rapidly adjust you get a look at your welcoming committee. They don’t quite look like the image of cave dwellers that had been lurking in the back of your mind after your descent into the depths…in fact most of them you wouldn’t have glanced at twice passing them above ground (well maybe above ground in Chi town but…), they look like slightly dishevelled wageslaves. They are a mix of metatypes and sexes, although no trolls that you can see, the ceilings are uncomfortably low for someone of your stature. The bearded human that opened the door to you gestures expansively

"Cummon in, we don’t know what else is outside at the moment. Our surveillance network has been falling apart at the seams and, well, you don’t want to hear about all that right? So you’re the evac party, well one of ‘em, good. Erm, name’s Franks, Katie and Jon’ll be pleased to see you, they’ll be the third group to depart and they’re eager to get back with their friends…now listen to me blather on…this way…”

You are led away from the door. The bulkhead lights overhead flicker sporadically, they look temporary at best, shot fired into the concrete walls. Everything looks scrubbed clean and you can see that Requiem is visibly relaxing as the signs of the dreaded bugs recedes. You suspect this was a storm water system originally, the rounded tunnels and open chambers would no doubt have appealed to the former residents. You also begin to see that the assertion that you would save more of their hacker arses might be a bit extravagant…multiple pairs of apprehensive eyes follow you, kids, old folks and everything in between, you’ve perhaps seen fifty people by the time you make it to your destination…

[Aria]

@E:PL UK / Mordred
[May 19th, 2072, 12:42; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]

The response when it comes a little later is both reassuring but also potentially raises more questions…

<<Ok, here goes, the scan on Argent the fixer…she’s based here in Seattle but has European roots, guess that’s why you are over the pond right now. She’s fairly well respected as far as I can tell, middle of the road fixer, not exactly big leagues but she has ties to the Euro toffs and that’s as murky waters as it gets! Rumour is that she’s some sort of witch so that also ties with your intel. As for trusting her, her rep says she is trustworthy but, remember what I told you…you need to form your own opinion on that one…I haven’t found a reason not to trust her but that by no means says that you should. Judge by her actions and be cautious until you know in your own mind. We have to trust sometime or nothing gets done… Stay safe out there, and watch you back!>>

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
Adrian Anderson
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 09:16:21; Snohomish; inside a Buddhist temple]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor, Edge: 5 / 6

His uncle merely shrugged, or at least seamed to; the old monk never telegraphed his physical movements but even the slightest lift of the shoulders allowed him to convey meaning. "A man seeking wisdom must know when to sit and gain serenity, but a man seeking to what is right needs wisdom for balance, will to act and a conscience to consider his fellow man. Adrian, you are my nephew and so I care for you but only you will be able to find your aum in this; it is just and worthy to want to help the lady and save more from dying, but make sure you are quite ready to begin your next cycle on the wheel should you pass from this world. You are hasty but also wise boy.... do what your soul says you must, but strive to keep from that man, he is strong and wrongly guided and it will not be well for you to run into him before you are ready."

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:31:46,The family node]
SIN: Morgan Senlis, PAN: Active

Morgan shield her eyes as she probed, taking extra precautions to look deeply before accessing the crannies in the locket that would hold the necessary connections but she could see no traces that would offer harm to herself. Each grove she placed her key fit perfectly as if made for the other. Why this should have concerned her she wasn't sure but she was, it was as if she had been added to security or something, though how they could've managed that was beyond her ability to fathom. There lay the node at the center of the locket in the shape of a beating heart, her fathers commlink.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Foretune's Forecast/James
April 18th, 2072, 01:05:02 Sight of the Cranial Bombing

The great private detective MAX LUCAS, renowned for his collaring of the despicable tempo dealer La Reina, the female voodoo practitioner who had evaded Knight Errants noble and feeble efforts to capture the last of the tempo dealers, was on the case. The source had said that the best place to look for the suspect, well what was left of the suspect was over down by that old vory gambling den, bout a block down and Max figured he just might do that...

James moved from the shadows where he had been scanning the traffic as the security contractors and other personnel had cleaned up the scene of the crime, to resolve business as usual. He of course, was not allowed access to the feed the security drones had taped of the incident, not being officially assigned to the case nor being on duty but he had his methods from old experience skirting the gray areas between his job and committing treason to pursue material for his book. The lady on the kitty corner had been most impressed to hear that he was a crime journalist interested in her old fashioned closed circuit camera system. Noone had given a damn or really recognized her odd collection of memorabilia in the front window of her antique shop for what it was but there was enough of the sleuth, and well to be honest luck, that he had seen something similar to them in a few flat screen vids way back in the day. Five hundred nuyen had given him the only copy of the tape and he was for damned certain not about to let it out of his sight, though he had watched the replay in the back through the old fashioned 2-d viewer on the premises.

The criminal had had help, that was for sure... probably the two suspects that had been seen alternatively driving up in the combat cab and dropping her off as well as the lady that had been pursuing the terrorist moments beforehand. That the lady hadn't been caught on security tapes by the drones or any other surveillance made James all the more suspicious, and thankful, that there had been a different and unexpected level or recording present at the antique-cum-pawnshop. The two had driven away, who knew where but Max was a good man once he had a hunting clue and that cab was pretty badly demolished by the blast, only having been saved by the normative and prodigious amounts of personal protection that came standard on the things.

He had a plate, though of course it would probably be faked, but that meant he had a lead. All he had to do was get in contact with a few select friends over at HQ and make it seem as if it was another of his random requests....