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

[Notsoevildm]

@Virtual Scream / Dante, Dubstep, Cat
[September 2, 2072, 13:19, Hai Fuk Noodle House, Redmond Barrens, Seattle]

Still apparently snoozing, Dubstep's mind moves at lightning speeds. A burst of data sends Cindy hurtling towards the Mitsuhama Nexus to download the datafile left behind in the empty node. At the same time Dubstep scans for all nodes in the vicinity. He picks up the waitress' link almost immediately and another couple across the room. He can sense others further out, in the kitchen and upstairs but gets nothing on the hostiles flagged up by Cindy. He focuses on the space where the one she indicated as their leader should be and kicks in his Scan program.

A hidden node pings into existence. It seems these gangers have at least a basic understanding of the digital realm.

Feeling a trembling in Dante's arm as his wires engage and the gunslide deploys his pistol into his hand, Cat withdraws her hand and turns her attention to the approaching ganger.

'Chunky' approaches with a swagger, the old Pedator held gansta-style on its side and pointing mostly at Dante.

"What we got here? A filthy trog, a keeb whore and a redskin asleep on the job. Sounds like a joke I once heard or maybe I'm breaking up a meeting of da Meta Liberation Front . Hahahah!"

He leers at Cat, looking her up and down with a mix of loathing and lust, keeping the old pistol hovering halfway between her and Dante.

Hands held up in front of her chest, Jenny Ho edges ever so slowly away from Chunky until the ganger's leader waves his SMG at her.

"Just stay where you are gook girl. No skin off me if you lives or dies."

She halts with a yelp, while across the room, 'Skinny' relieves the chinese couple of their electronics and other valuables. He has put the scanner down on the table and is currently stuffing their commlinks and other items into the pockets of his oversized long coat.

[phlapjack77]

@Virtual Scream / Dante, Dubstep, Cat
[September 2, 2072, 13:19, Hai Fuk Noodle House, Redmond Barrens, Seattle]
PAN: hidden, Response 1, Signal 3, System 2, Firewall 1

<<@Dubstep [Dante] : Can you hack some node in this room, maybe a commlink or their electronic device? Make it cause a distraction.>>

[karhig]

@Virtual Scream / Cat, Dubstep, Dante
[September 2, 2072, 13:19, Hai Fuk Noodle House, Redmond Barrens, Seattle]
PAN: Active, SIN: Moll Flanders (Fake SIN Rtg 4), System: 2, Signal: 2, Response: 2, Firewall: 2

Seeing the fear on the waitresses face sparks at some defiance in Cat's core, giving her a brief moment of courage, or stupidity. Ignoring Chunky in front of her she looks past him, directing her level toned voice at the leader.

"Hey hot shot, eyes on the prize. Genuine rare fauna over here. No point wasting your bullets on her when there's a billion others waiting to take her place."

[Aria]

Balefire
[Wednesday August 17th, 2072; Unknown Matrix Node, Seattle]

Silk stepped out into a confused mess of iconography as her reality filter struggled against the inherent node architecture. Giving it up as an impossible task she unloaded the program to find herself on a black and white chequered path leading through a crazy garden. Ahead of her the rabbit bounded into a hole in the bank under a twisted old oak tree.

Herne appeared beside her in none of his usual guises, instead adopting the two dimensional image of a playing card knight. Glancing down at herself she was relieved to see that she wasn’t also a card. She’d been rendered in some sort of antique courtier’s garb with subtle silvery spade symbols woven into the heavy shot silk.

Bending down by the rabbit hole she brushed aside the whispering flowers to peer into the depths. Half expecting it she looked up into the branches of the tree at a sudden purring sound and the faint scritch of a cat’s claws as it kneaded the bark of the oak. There was nothing there beyond the faint hint of a smile lingering in the air.

“You can go in you know?” Great! Down the rabbit hole…!

And she plunged into a vortex of the wireless link to who knows where. The sense of falling lasted an eon in matrix time so it might represent a satlink somewhere, although the last time she had seen Summer it had been in the flesh here in Seattle. Maybe it was just part of the Alice illusion, she would just have to see if there was an inviting cake waiting for her at the end inscribed “eat me”…

She landed with a gentle bump to find herself in a pleasant garden room with Alice herself, or rather Summer.

“You came? Thank you, I wasn’t sure if you would, I just knew that it was important that you did”

“Can we not talk in riddles please?” Silk responded in an exasperated tone. It hadn’t been quite this bad when she’d had dealings with this strange matrix oracle before and if she could reign in the weirdness before Summer got into her stride then she stood a good chance of understanding what this odd little girl was going on about.

“You found it then, the key to the next step? To your next step…Aria will be pleased”

“Aria?” Silk interrupted, “she knew about all this? Whatever this is…you still haven’t told me. Is it the Mindset files?”

“I don’t know what it is; I just see the pivotal moments, follow the patterns in the Resonance to predict the outcomes and sometimes adjust them. This one leads you to where you need to go.”

“And where the hell is that?”

“I don’t know yet. Aria probably does, but then she’s known about this for years.”

“Years? I need some answers! If you can’t give them to me why did you drag me here? I’m not sure I can wring the answers out of Aria but I’m bloody well going to try!”

For a moment Summer/Alice went still, presumably as she did her thing, reading the Resonance or whatever it was, giving Silk a moment to marvel at this matrix place she’d been brought to. The sculpting wasn’t quite UV level, that would have been an unforgettable experience, but it wasn’t far off. She could feel the faint brush of air from the open doors to the garden and smell the heady mix of impossible scents.

“Mindset…” and she shivered “they were hunting my kind. I know that’s nothing new, stories are coming out even outside the shadows now. Why this one is so important to you…” and she shrugged. “But maybe you are just a catalyst for what is coming. The darkness is looming and I have a feeling that you are tied into that. Or perhaps it would be fairer to say that Aria has tied you into that…”

“Aria’s just a hacker that used to run with my Mum and her team…” but as soon as she said it she knew there was more to it than that. Bale might know more, at least he was close to his brother, they might have discussed who Aria was.

“You still haven’t really told me why you brought me here!”

“Perhaps to send you back to Aria now that you know? I’m not given clear instructions you know, I have to interpret what I see. Don’t worry, it’s more than educated guesswork, what I do has a real effect on the world. Whether you like it or not you are dancing to the strings she is pulling, perhaps you always have been, but rest assured, it is important. Possibly even earth shatteringly so.”

“That all sounds a bit melodramatic…” to which Summer could only shrug again. Frag! “Ok, I’ll go and badger Aria and leave you to whatever it is you are doing down here…following the patterns. I can appreciate reading patterns, we might even have something in common!”

Time to find out what this earth shattering destiny was that Aria had cooked up for her. She couldn’t help feeling sceptical, she had a gift and she wasn’t a bad runner but she was under no illusions about the scale of her actions and what they represented for the world at large. Then again wasn’t there a saying about small stones and ripples on a pond…?

[Notsoevildm]

@Virtual Scream, Alex Bianchi
September 2, 2072, 12:44; Not quite the Barrens
Renraku Sensei: Hidden | SIN: Jimmy Delfino (Fake ID, Rating 3) (Re 2 - Sig 4 - Fi 2 - Sys 2)

Charlie nods his twin hypervelocity SMGs at Alex and follows him to the door, while Harvey responds with a simple message.

<<@Jimmy[Harvey]: Okay, it's your play. Need to log while the doc stitches me up. Be careful.>>

From inside the door, he can hear frantic mutterings and noises of people moving around and was that a gun being cocked? A voice calls out hesitantly from behind the door.

"Yea? Who's there? Whadda ya want?"

[ChromeZephyr]

@Virtual Scream, Alex Bianchi
September 2, 2072, 12:44; Not quite the Barrens
Renraku Sensei: Hidden | SIN: Jimmy Delfino (Fake ID, Rating 3) (Re 2 - Sig 4 - Fi 2 - Sys 2)

Okay, they're not all the way on the ball. Authoritative, but don't act like a cop. Bull rush them with words, keep 'em from thinking too hard. And hope that their trigger fingers aren't itchy.

Alex set his face in a calm, slightly annoyed cast. "I'm the person who's got to clean up the mess you made of the situation with the dwarf. Open the damn door, I've still got places to be today."

[Aria]

@E:PL/Chi Town/Gemeaux, Mordred & Tsubaki
[July 9th, 2072, 00:26; East of the river, Clybourn Ave, CZ, Chicago]

Moving as rapidly as caution will allow you make your way to the river. The bridge across is in a sorry state but you think it will bear your weight. Over the far side you can see flashes of fire and in the grim shadows you can see hunched grey forms, giving off very little thermal signature, lurching towards a small group of defenders and then backing off with dimly heard snarls of rage. It can’t be long before the defenders run out of things to throw at their aggressors though…

Copperhead

The rifle round slams into you under your ribs and although it doesn’t penetrate your armour you are going to have a lovely bruise there that will last for weeks! Your return shot blasts into the air above you as you vainly try to pin down Snag. It takes you a moment but you realise that the dimly seen form that you fired at is further to your left than the presence of your spirit would indicate Snag is lurking. The spirit flashes a view of its fangs sinking in to Snag’s malevolent aura but whether or not it has bloodied him it is too early to tell…

[JxJxA]

@E:PL/Chi Town/Gemeaux, Mordred & Tsubaki
[July 9th, 2072, 00:26; East of the river, Clybourn Ave, CZ, Chicago]
PAN - Active ; SIN - Maximilien Danton

Gemeaux draws out Le Dernier Mot and peers through the scope. He frowns when he sees the figures moving towards the defenders.

<<@Group[Gemeaux]: Test the bridge if you like. I might be able to start dispatching some of these goons from here.>>

[Aria]

@E:Tribes,
September 1, 2072 22:28 Approx 600m from the Fre∑dom Mall, Puyallup

Scrapheap

With the kill count growing you can feel the adrenalin coursing through you and not bothering to hide the feral grin turn your attentions back to the oncoming wagon. The shotgun blast leaves an impressive dent in the hood but the steel plate that has been junk welded to the front of the car seems to have absorbed the punishment and there’s no sign of actual damage to the functioning of that abomination of a vehicle…the fact that it is functioning at all is a small miracle, at least going by the outward appearance…

Tweak

The tyres tearing up the road as you reverse, you vaguely aim for the remaining biker with your rear facing sensors to guide you. There’s no chance of catching the nimble crotch rocket, even if you were going forwards, but you might be able to distract him enough that he decides not to shoot at anyone…in fact he seems to be deciding that he’s feeling lonely as he takes a look at the bloodbath and makes a bid for his own personal freedom…

Spring

From the dubious safety of a doorway at the side of the road you reach out to draw a spirit to you…

Sprogget

Swerving erratically you cut off the Harley but unfortunately he is too good a driver to force him to crash…it does slow him enough that it allows LeO to draw a bead on him and you get a tacnet warning of the incoming fire, along with the slightly worrying warning that you are in the current line of fire and there is a small, but acceptable, chance of winging the mono bike.

The line of fire stitches a line across the orc’s armoured torso and with a snarl of rage he angles his bike back towards the north in an attempt to evade further attacks, ducking low to make the most of the bike’s armoured cowl…it’s almost as if you have them on the run after the short and brutal engagement! Having their trap turned so neatly against them has clearly been a surprise!

LeFey

You fire at the remaining crotch rocket but the jinking form is at the extreme end of your range already…probably not worth wasting further ammo, they appear to finally be on the run and you are almost amazed to see that your crono indicates not much more than thirty seconds have passed!

[Dakka Fiend]

@E:Tribes
Spring
September 1, 2072 22:28 Approx 600m from the Fre∑dom Mall, Puyallup
[Crouching in a doorway]
Renraku Sensei: Hidden, SIN: Steven Brokvich (fake R3)

Frak, frak, frak, frak!

Spring looks around frantically. His gun at home, his armor as well and on top of that, they're outnumbered and facing a mage to boot.

Well, he's not the only one in town, is he? But I can't just... It'd have to be bigger, something to scare the drek out... but how'd I get them that size...

Maybe it's pure desperation, maybe inspiration taking pity on him, but suddenly he has a moment of clarity, giving him a feeling of deep understanding.

Yes!

The young boy feels a rush of joy and of power like a drug addict getting a long needed high. And like a drug addict, he's not too keen on moderation.

Fire seems to spring from his eyes, his skin seems to glow with power as first slowly then faster then quick as lightning, scrap metal lying on the ground moves and forms a body, additional pieces materializing out of thin air to snap into place.

Hah, so easy, should've done that ages ago.

Hybris, has been the downfall of many a man and this boy seems to be its latest victim.
In the whirling mass of metal, two glowing red eyes form, focusing on Spring

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHO YOU ARE?

I.. I... am. I am the

For a moment the boy and the spirit are locked in mental battle. The powerful glow is gone from Spring, replaced by unhealthy - and decidedly painful - looking flames that wander around on his body, scarring flesh but leaving cloth undamaged.

I am the one who commands you!

With the last of his strength, the young boy manges to win this fight; at a high price.

With an angry hiss, the spirit forms fully. It is a four-legged creature about the size of a small bear made of metal. Or rather the metal framework of such a creature without the skin covering it. Inside, complicated gear systems move and spin and whirr with every move. In the middle, a core of fire pulsates with a mesh of fiery conduits leading from it to every part of the creature like blood vessels in a real animal. Taking it all in at once, it looks like a clockwork dragon. And a pissed-off one at that.

Lowering his head in a surprisingly cat-like movement, the spirit seems to accept his defeat for now. Whipping his head around, it seems to search for someone to take its anger out on while its master behind it lets out a cry of pain.

[Machine Ghost]

@E:Tribes, Sprogget
September 1, 2072 22:28; Ambushed near the Fre?dom Mall, Puyallup
Bionode: Response 4(5), Signal 2, System 4, Firewall 3; Hidden; Analyze(3), Command(1), Edit(1), Scan(1), Sniffer(3), Spoof(1), {s]Stealth(3)[/s], Shield(1), Tacsoft(2), Simrig(1)
CMT Clip: Response 1, Signal 3, System 1, Firewall 1; Hidden; SIN: Paul Brickhill (R3)

The swerve successfully cuts off the Harley, but Sprogget's elation is short lived as the chopper remains under control.
@self:Drek, now what?
Then in the good/bad news area, tacnet shows that LeO is active, and has a target lock, but that the incoming fire is going to be rather close to the monocyle.  Mentally urging LeO's aim to be accurate, he watches the path almost mesmerized.
@self:The mage please, not DR!
As LeO's rounds find the Ork, Sprogget relaxes a little.
@self:Take that!  A little payback for what you did to DR!

Using the opportunity to get a bit of distance from the Harley, and clearing the line of fire if LeO needs another shot, he reviews the situation shown by tacnet.
@self:The 2 on foot from the West side are out, the one in the building to the East has not been seen lately, the one that was in the Americar that Tweak rammed with van has never made an appearance.  Either taken out by the ram, or was only in place to throw the stinger.  The bike on the West side was wiped out by Scrapheap.  Looks like the bike on the East is mostly interested in leaving, and Harley is going evasive.  Scrapheap took out the gunner, but his last shot did not do much to that other piece of scrap on wheels, and it still seems to be coming.

Spring has a little cover in that doorway, and Tweak is coming back(wards) with the van after that failed ram on the Harley.  Scrapheap does not have much cover from this side though.

Seeing a hint of ghostly fire from Spring's location, he wonders,
@self:What's he up to over there?

[Notsoevildm]

@E:PL/Chi Town/Copperhead
[July 9th, 2072, 00:26; Ghoul central, CZ, Chicago]

Copperhead grunts as the heavy calibre round thunks against layers of armor. Her staff clatters to the ground as she scurries for cover.

Ugh, can't take too many hits like that.

"Need to shoot straighter dan dat if'n ya wants ta kill me, Snagglepus!"

Steel fingers reach for her Enfield, snapping off a round as the smartlink targ swings across the ghoul's torso. It was a hurried shot but she is still surprised by how off target her aim appears to be.

Ssee the truth urges a low, hissed voice.

A nearby supporting pillar gives her a modicum of cover. She focuses her senses on the spot near the ghoul that her beast spirit seems so keen on attacking, expanding her awareness beyond her physical senses.

[Machine Ghost]

@E:Tribes, Sprogget
September 1, 2072 22:28; Ambushed near the Fre?dom Mall, Puyallup
Bionode: Response 4(5), Signal 2, System 4, Firewall 3; Hidden; Analyze(3), Command(1), Edit(1), Scan(1), Sniffer(3), Spoof(1), {s]Stealth(3)[/s], Shield(1), Tacsoft(2), Simrig(1)
CMT Clip: Response 1, Signal 3, System 1, Firewall 1; Hidden; SIN: Paul Brickhill (R3)

Deciding that the mage is still the more immediate threat to Scrapheap, the one team member still fairly much in the open, and in the path the Harley seems to be taking, Sprogget sends a quick message to the CD Owl drone.
@LeO: <<Hit that mage and Harley with a narrow full burst!>>
@self:Come on LeO, Take him out before he gets to Scrapheap, or pulls some other magic rabbitdrek out of his hatbutt.

@jailbreakers: <<Assuming this is about over, do we want to load up and leave quick?  Or stick around to ask questions of any survivors, and pick up the pieces?  Could send a Mechanicals team over with better tools to do the salvage, if the other scavengers don't haul it off first.>>

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@EPL/Chi Town/Father Anselm
[July 6th, 2072, 12:00:00, West 23 Pl and S Wensworth Ave, CZ, Chicago]


The convoy rolled into the flattened and burnt out ruins of the old elementary school and Anselm could practically still feel the residues left from the sudden death of so many innocent lives. The whole trip into Chicago had been one of a mild headache all the way to complete migraines as the aid convoy had rolled through the desecration left in the path of the nuclear explosion and the subsequent years of abuse and Anselm figured it was only going to get worse. It didn't help that every time he felt a particular upspike in the local mana flow he kept relating it to the scene of carnage that had been all that was left of of the Tranquil Sands enclave north of Tehran. Worse still, he kept reliving the struggle with the Dweller and what might yet happen as a result of his actions and the future of the Collots and their brethren.

DeBathayre's goons had been very imposing on that job and it had been so much relief to finally get rid of their tail on the way back via Turkey. Even better that he had been there before and had known about one of the Lodge's safe-houses and had the chance to rest before heading onwards to Chicago. If the groups trackers were right then the Collots, well hopefully both but at least the young Luc from whom Anselm had borrowed the tiny stuffed animal, should be fairly close, if not already at the Blackwater Enclave.

What to do when he got there was something Anselm had not quite figured out. Ostensibly he was attached to this convoy as a medic and spiritual advisor and the convoy commander had been too short of magical help and volunteers to turn him down. He could only really claim a minor moral high ground as he had been key in fending off a few spirit attacks on the way into the CZ so at least the medicine and supplies would be going to the unfortunates in the area rather than any warlord who controlled the local turf.

That was the plan at least, though Anselm didn't give the relief agency much hope that that would actually be the case. He had been able to persuade a few of the more obstinate looking gangers at the various stops though, so perhaps a few of the supplies would actually go to those who most needed them; not to any turf wars that might be in progress over this hell-hole.

As the heavily armored citymaster and truck convoy finally ground to a stop in a circle, perhaps ironically in the old circle-the-wagons formation, Anselm moved down from his place at the observation hatch and shrugged into the lined coat he wore over his robe and under body armor. Nodding to the captain of the Merc detachment who guarded this whole affair, Anselm waited for the hatch to open and donned his respirator. His somewhat muffled thanks echoed hollowly in the bulky apparatus that still made him feel slightly claustrophobic and he quickly scuttled his way to the nearest bit of cover still left in the abandoned school.

His normal paranoia had been on such a high state the whole time that he felt finally relaxed as the guards fanned out and the relief supplies started to get unloaded; the apparently abandoned city-scape suddenly bloomed with starved, desperate looking wretches once it was clear this wasn't another euthenization squad out to clean a bit of the CZ back one body at a time. "'Scuse me.... you a church guy right?" Startled, Anselm turned around to the very intimidating sight of a young orc, probably no more than seven or eight years old toting a fairly beat up submachine gun of some kind that was pointed rather directly in his general direction.

Not wishing to disturb or spook the youth, Anselm turned so that the kid could see his white clerical collar and the front of his cossack and cross. "Yes my son. Do you need help?" The last came out somewhat pathetically as it occurred to him that that could well apply to any poor soul who had to live in this neighborhood. The orc didn't look threatening though as he slightly lowered his weapon. "Well, ma's sick and there's noone to baptize my brothers and sisters, or to...." The kid just drops off and Anselm could see tears start to well up in his eyes as this probable bread winner of the family just tried to cope with stuff he wasn't designed for at his young age. He moved closer and crouched down a few feet away, "Son, where is your mama? We'll get you some food and then I can give you the sacrament." The youngster visibly brightened and it was a testimony to the Lord's presence even in the darkest place that that promise made any sort of difference to an otherwise hardened individual living in one of the world's darkest shadows. "Oh I grok that! Thanks priestman."

Anselm returned to the convoy, youngster in tail, and approached the quartermaster who, although extremely busy at least had the curtesy to not tell him to frag off and gave him a satchel containing various supplies which he promptly slung around his frame and positioned amongst the other bags and gear on his person.

Struggling to keep up, the father moved after the now eager youth who darted off into the buildings ahead. I hope this isn't a trap. If I die this way, what a waste of potential.... if the child dies today.... what a waste of faith.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@E:PL/Chi Town/ Father Anselm
[July 8th, 2072, 22:20:14, 100 yards North of Blackwater, CZ, Chicago]

The kid had been more of an asset than he had expected, due mostly to the seemingly minor event of offering the sacrament to his mama who had not been sick but rather in child-birth, and baptizing the newborn litter. This had galvanized the young orc so much that he had offered to help Anselm any way he could. This unexpected aid was obviously heaven sent as the youth had offered to part with one of the family's spare weapons. The slightly beat up mp5 was in bad condition but the magazines of ammo the kid had given him were clean and it was obvious the youngster very much doubted the safety of a priest in the CZ without sufficient defence. Having slotted his automatics autosoft Anselm had decided to acquiesce and gave the child 800 in hard cred that he had been keeping for the times when cred would get him further than religion. The gift was received nonchalantly and Anselm realized once again that in here, things that could keep you alive were valued well above plastic cred.

Taking a chance and hoping that the Lord would help his search, Anselm had tenatively asked about the blackwater enclave; not by name of course but by the vague description that had been given him by DeBathayre before she had left him at the airport. The kid had perked up at that and offered to guide him to the place. It was clear the orc believed that the priest would help those unfortunates too and further questioning revealed that the erstwhile group of technomancers had provided some key security for his family in a time of need and he felt loyal to them as a result.

"Well, best I be about it. Thank you my son, you have been kind to this one and I am certain the Lord will keep you in his peace. You get on home to your family and Godspeed go with you." The kid scampered off and just as Anselm began to hop down from his perch he heard the unmistakable rumble of an HTA craft speeding towards him from the north; not one but two of them appeared over the horizon flying low and fast in a beeline straight towards his hiding place.

Always late to the party.... There was no mistaking their target as they performed a neat insertion above the area which he had been informed was the main entrance to Blackwater and twelve men in dark black combat fatigues fast-roped out of the first tbird. They dissappeared into the hole and within minutes he both heard and saw explosions and dark clouds of smoke and dust pour out from not one but two depressions in the ground.

The black painted craft pulled off as one sped out and took up a patrol route while the other maintained height and began gunning down the individuals now scurrying from the warren like rats from a sinking ship. The carnage was terrible and Anselm was about to end the existence of the main t-bird but hesitated as, out of the corner of his eye he saw a few shadows dart out of a nearby exit almost directly below his building. One, a troll from the looks of it, and it's apparent temperment, roughly grabbed a smaller figure who had been obviously coaching his comrades in the morale department. The troll shook the young man roughly before dropping him to the ground and urging the rest of the company to bolt off into the shadows, though only two followed.

Suddenly, the troll turned around and gestured at the youth and, even from this distance Anselm could discern the tell-tales of spellcraft as the youth reached to his face only to dodge out of the way as 3 ants, large beyond belief came racing out of the exit they had just left. Anselm quickly flung himself back into the recesses of the building and began to run down to the ground floor as quickly as he could all the while attempting to avoid the most suspect looking patches, ready at a moments notice to levitate himself to keep from falling.

When he reached the ground floor and peered out of the doorway there was no sign of the group or even the ants, though the youth who had been attacked was still groggily lying on the asphalt and seemed in no hurry to save himself.


He rushed to the young man, whos only obvious wound was a copiously bloody nose and asked, "Are you ok? What happened in there? Did the technomancers survive?"

The young man shook off Anselm's helping hand and rose unsteadily. "Leave me alone trog lover! The rest of them will die because I want to live scan?!"

So, he's probably a techno.... and he just, what? Sold them out?

Anselm wasn't sure whether to be disgusted, appalled or uneasy with the instant comparison to himself in many ways. He mentally called on the spirit of St. Alban, the patron of refugees to aid him in his search and roughly manhandled the young man back into the building. St. Alban answered and materialized in front of the belligerent pain in the ass. "My son, can you find the others? I need to know if there was a young boy and his father in there. They'd be 'mancers, like yourself, and I hope in the Lord's name you haven't hurt them. Vengeance is swift and the Lord sometimes chooses me for this work so you had better tell me everything you know."

The spirit apparently made a convincing supporting evidence as he glowered menacingly in the youth's direction and tried to influence his thoughts. Anselm couldn't tell if it was the threats or the spirits work but the boy brightened visibly. "Nah, don't know of any young kid or a father.... tons of people down there so you best go in there if you want and slot off my case neh?" The spirit punched the youth as quick as thought and the young man skidded across the concrete floor from the force of the blow. "Ok, Ok, you after 'mancers too huh? Well I can find them for you, I can do it if you let me go free. Just let me live and I'll help you."

Nursing a few obviously broken ribs the kid gingerly sat up and looked questioningly at Anselm, who nodded curtly and merely motioned for him to lead onward. "Be warned, if you betray me like you betrayed your kind. Hell will be a relief for your poor soul." Something of the steel in Anselm's eyes must have convinced the kid because he calmed down, in fact almost seeming to be pleased with himself for some obscure reason as he lead the priest back through the buildings along what the generic mapsoft (SOTA 2063) said had been North Damen Ave.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@E:PL/ Chi Town/ Father Anselm
[July 9th, 2072, 00:23:00; N Besly Ct, On top of a ruined advertisement board tower]

He had lost the traces of the technomancers that his hostage cum-guide had been leading him after, but he had decided to press north on a hunch that any sane individuals would attempt to make it to the edge of the CZ and relative safety. It seemed to have paid off as he had spotted a glimpse of gang members running into a set of buildings, obviously in pursuit of some unfortunate individual and the only people stupid enough or perhaps just not streetwise enough to get caught like that were most likely his intended quarry.

The kid had put up a big stink about trekking across the railroad tracks in Anselm's bid to keep as much of a distance between himself and any potential ambush sites as possible; complaining that it was all well and good if the priest wanted to die but why didn't he just let him go free. Only the desire to punish the kid for his betrayal and his need to attempt to track any potential signals kept him from just getting rid of the technomancer and being on his way.

Finally tiring of the walk Anselm called to the patron saint of Edmund the Martyr with the intent of having him despatching the traitor. He did not give the order however as just at that moment he heard several gunshots to the north. A quick levitate to the top of the nearest tall structure, in this case an old billboard tower complete with lack of AROs, showed sporadic weapons fire from a group of 4 individuals hunkered down in some cover close to the dilapidated bridge and a semi-familiar figure, that of the troll he had seen leave Blackwter, break off and rush towards the building complex from which sporadic gunfire was coming. Something about the way the figures attacking the smaller group moved sparked a memory in Anselm's mind and he quickly flipped his perception to the astral. Ghouls.... The bile rose in Anselm's mouth as his anger flared. The unholy and damned creatures were utterly repulsive, he had fought them before, back in the middle east about a year ago when on a mission for the Lodge and his distaste for them had not grown any less. The sight of them attacking the beleaguered party struck a chord with Anselm much like the one he had experienced watching Luc die in his minds eye when on his quest for enlightenment and he mentally commanded the spirit of Edmund the Martyr to have his vengeance on these undead heathen.

[RdMarquis]

@E:PL/Chi Town/Gemeaux, Mordred & Tsubaki
[July 9th, 2072, 00:26; East of the river, Clybourn Ave, CZ, Chicago]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Hidden

Mordred activates the polymers in his suit and fades from view as he closes in. <Looks like some of the locals. Ghouls.> The adept ducks behind some debris and readies his silenced pistol. There was only one chance to catch them off guard. He chances a peek to make sure their attention was focused on their intended prey, then charges, firing his weapon.

[JxJxA]

@E:PL/Chi Town/Gemeaux, Mordred & Tsubaki
[July 9th, 2072, 00:26; East of the river, Clybourn Ave, CZ, Chicago]
PAN - Active ; SIN - Maximilien Danton

Gemeaux is still climbing up the fire escape of a ruined building when he notices that Mordred has gotten close to the ghouls. He activates his own chameleon suit and disappears from view. However, he has Vivienne send updates to his location to all of the members of his team.

<<@Group[Gemeaux]: Get closer if you like, mon ami, but I think I shall keep my distance and provide cover from afar. Let me know where exactly you are, though. I would hate to find you between my rifle and my quarry.>>

When he reaches the top, Gemeaux puts down his chameleoned smartpack, unstraps his sniper rifle, and gets ready to work. He is grateful to finally be in a familiar combat setting---several meters from prey who have no idea where he is or that he is about to start killing them. He takes aim at the closest ghoul, grins, and pulls the trigger...

[Notsoevildm]

@Virtual Scream / Cat, Dubstep, Dante
[September 2, 2072, 13:19, Hai Fuk Noodle House, Redmond Barrens, Seattle]
"Hey hot shot, eyes on the prize. Genuine rare fauna over here. No point wasting your bullets on her when there's a billion others waiting to take her place."

The restaurant falls silent at Cat's outburst and every eye turns towards her. At the far table, Skinny looks up, one hand filled with stolen tech, the pistol in the other moving in her direction. Their leader's attention and SMG move from the trembling waitress towards the elven woman and he begins to move towards their table.

---

In the matrix, Dubstep easily breaches the firewall of the leader's comm, although part of his mind registers that it was not the Metalink's standard, crappy default. He surveys the node's standard matrix iconography and is keenly aware of the lack of icons that tend to build up in any node over time. Frag, it even smells new.

Apart from the standard commlink features, there are only two other icons in the node. The first is an old version LinkDefender's Analyze routine. The lighthouse icon's beam sweeps across him even as he examines it. But it does not pause, not this time. The second icon is an attack program in the form of a badly rendered wolf or dog. It's clearly not a powerful one, but is still probably pushing the limits of the Metalink's OS. But the simple fact that it is here means that whoever set up this link has some knowledge of matrix security. With only user access, Dubstep quickly realizes that he does not have the permissions needed to deactivate either of them and that the local admin account has been disabled. More worrying though, is the fact that the node is being remotely monitored from another device!

<<Completing transfer of first >1rtu@l5cr3@m file to your link, boss!>> chirps Cindy.

Not that she needed to tell him, he can already feel the drag on his link's response from just the one. All three are likely going to slow his link to a crawl.

---

As the ganger's leader approaches their table, the only sound is a low, nervous keening from Jenny Ho. And then there is a roar. Chunky's face, which had been getting redder and redder, is now purple with rage.

"You shut your fraggin' whore mouth, you fraggin' keeb slut!"

His hand swings back, and lashes out towards Cat's face.

[Notsoevildm]

@Virtual Scream / Gossamer
[September 1, 2072, 12:22, Argent's ‘link node]
PAN: N/A, SIN: None, Response *, Signal *, System (5), Firewall (4), (Analyze, Scan, Decrypt, Exploit [5, inherent], Stealth [6, inherent], Armour, Browse, Encrypt, Medic [6, ergo, optzd])

Slater makes himself comfortable on the floor next to Gossamer's pod. He folds his long legs almost into a full lotus, settles his hands on his knees and leans his head back against the wall.

A pale blue icon of a slim elf appears above his head. It is thin, almost frail-looking, with too long limbs, fingers and ears. It's surface is completely smooth with no discerning features. It reaches a hand out towards Gossamer and says in Slater's voice.

<<Come on over and let's take a look at this >1rtu@l5cr3@m squatter together.>>

His touch transfers the data she needs to create a user account on his link. It's sleek, fast, and at least as powerful as Argent's. Together the decker and the AI log into her chassis' node. It has been rebooted and reset to factory defaults but as Gossamer enters, it recognizes her and begins reconfiguring itself to her preferred settings. Default iconography gives way to grass and trees as her reality filter reasserts itself on the node.

<<@Slater, Gossamer[Cutter]: While you to do whatever cyber 'activities' you need to do. I'll go pick up your new squeeze's new body. Don't do anything stupid.>>

The latter comment seems directed more at Slater than Gossamer, but it's hard to tell from the text.

Even despite the comforting familiarity, the presence of the >1rtu@l5cr3@m icon is still disturbing. The icon takes up much of the node's interior. The human torso lies in a pool of blood that drips from the surgically precise wounds where its head and limbs should be. The skin on the chest and stomach is pulled back to reveal a cavity devoid of organs. But most disturbing is the whispers she can hear. A siren song calling her closer. Slater seems to sense her hesitation.

<<Jeez. No wonder you don't want to come back here. Sorry, no offence.>>

He turns his featureless head towards the icon and a pale blue light emanates from where his eyes should be, scanning over the surface of the grisly icon.

<<Most of it seems to be data. Let's see what we can find, neh?>>

---

[September 1, 2072, 16:42, Argent's ‘link node]
PAN: N/A, SIN: None, Response *, Signal *, System (5), Firewall (4), (Analyze, Scan, Decrypt, Exploit [5, inherent], Stealth [6, inherent], Armour, Browse, Encrypt, Medic [6, ergo, optzd])

By the time Cutter arrives back with Gossamer's new body, Slater and Gossamer have scanned through thousands of scraps of data. None of it is complete. Video clips last barely longer than a few seconds and show mostly trid footage of corp employees moving through corridors or in offices or meeting rooms. The audio files are no better, just snatches of conversation, often no more than a few words long.

Some of the data is encrypted. The few pieces they have managed to decrypt so far contain fragments of information similar to the raw data. It could take days or even weeks to go through it all, but they have had some success. By cross-referencing the fragments of information, they have managed to extract two corporate logos. One belongs to Cyberdyne Security Systems (CSS), the other to Mammoth Memory Operations (MMO), a subsidiary of CSS.

[Notsoevildm]

@Virtual Scream, Alex Bianchi
September 2, 2072, 12:44; Not quite the Barrens
Renraku Sensei: Hidden | SIN: Jimmy Delfino (Fake ID, Rating 3) (Re 2 - Sig 4 - Fi 2 - Sys 2)

Alex's comment seems to get their attention. There is a burst of whispered conversation.

"...he knows about the dwarf...I told you not ta gank him...fragger deserved it...better let him in then..."

Clearly these chumps are not university material. The first speaker clears his throat and tries to put some macho into his voice.

"Okay, I'm opening the door. No funny stuff or we shoot yer ass."

The door opens about half a meter to reveal a skinny teenager in gang leathers. They are painted the colors of the Young Guns, a teen gang that deals mainly in Novacoke and BTLs. He looks up at Alex, the laser dot of his battered light pistol playing across the ex-detective's face.

He seems not to have noticed the drone crouching eagerly at Alex's feet. Not yet, anyway.

[Notsoevildm]

@Virtual Scream/Noodle House
September 2, 2072, 13:19, Hai Fuk Noodle House, Redmond Barrens, Seattle

Cat's arms come up almost reflexively to protect her face, her corporate self-defence training kicking in automatically. Her arms and leather jacket block the worst of Chunky's powerful blow, which knocks her and her chair a good meter away from the table.

---

Dubstep begins uploading data to the link's AR interface, mixing some thrash metal with a video link to some very in-your-face, nothing-left-to-the-imagination troll porn. As he does so, the beam of the lighthouse swings back across his icon. This time it does stop and he hears a noise that could be interpreted as a growl.

---

Leader cries out, "Da frag is dis?". He raises his left hand to his eyes as though trying to swat something out of the way. He barks out out, "Xbox, get dis shit offa my AR."

"Frag you! I'm workin' on it. Da redskin must be der hacker. Shoot im!" whines back Skinny/Xbox.

[ChromeZephyr]

@Virtual Scream, Alex Bianchi
September 2, 2072, 12:44; Not quite the Barrens
Renraku Sensei: Hidden | SIN: Jimmy Delfino (Fake ID, Rating 3) (Re 2 - Sig 4 - Fi 2 - Sys 2)


Alex raised an eyebrow after the dot finished passing over his face. "Some advice for ya? People doing 'funny stuff' don't knock, they just come through the doors and windows while you're weighing bags of snow. Which is why I'm here in the first place."

The detective inclined his head at the room behind the ganger. "So, you gonna let me in, or are we just going to stand here eyeballin' one another? 'Cause I can just come back after the SWAT team rolls through and cacks your stupid asses for icing a friend of theirs."

Alex shrugged. "Choice is yours, but you ain't got a lotta time to decide."

[phlapjack77]

@Virtual Scream/Noodle House
September 2, 2072, 13:19, Hai Fuk Noodle House, Redmond Barrens, Seattle

Dante is surprised, and if truth be told, pleased at what an efficient distraction his two teammates have provided. Sure there were still three guys to take down, and sure it would still be all up to Dante, but it was going to be much less difficult because of Cat and Dubstep. He could like working with them.

<<@Cat, Dubstep [Dante] : Please stay low now>>

He reached out a hand to the momentarily-blinded porcine form standing over Cat and accessed his magnetic system, setting it for overload. He hadn't had good roast pork since Beijing, they got the flavors all wrong here. You want something done right, you do it yourself.

[mister__joshua]

@E:CoP/Johnny Awesome
[August 20th, 2072, 22:05; NeoNet Tower, Oxford]

"I think I'll work the room if you don't mind. I'll come and find you again later though for a night cap, when it's dying down." He gives Ryl a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek and sets off back into the party. He looks for Maggard, finding him in a corner silently watching the room, and leans next to him. He's found a spot with a perfect view of the floor. He always did. "Anything interesting going down Mag?"

Maggard didn't talk. He never did. But he silently beamed several photos to Johnny which now filled his AR. They were just people meeting people, but it was always handy to know who was talking to who. There was one of a man handing something to a waiter, another of a woman looking uncomfortable. You'd be hard pressed to do anything in the room and not have him capture it. There were several trid clips of his own exchange with Ryl too. He may want to watch them back later and see if there was anything he missed. He disliked watching himself. He could tell that he was slick, smooth, but to him it always seemed fake. Maybe because he knew it was. He'd overanalyze his own performance later. Now was the time for checking out the other snippets Mag had sent to him.