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

[Aria]

[Matrix Node: SEAѤ67-∑2: The Citadel]

As you enter the node, you stand on a barren plane, which only makes the towering edifice of the Citadel seem even bigger. Even with the enhanced senses available in the matrix the top of this gothic monstrosity is lost in the lowering clouds, lightening scudding through them in vast sheets. Gargoyles leer at you from the tops of their pedestals and, following a faint cry bourn to you on the wind, you look up to see a huge western dragon, dwarfed by the structure, breath a torrent of fire into the surrounding tempest.

Before you are an enormous set of carved bronze doors cracked open, standing in the shadows there is a hooded figure who beckons to you

“Welcome to the Citadel, I am the Gatekeeper…”

[Aria]

[Matrix Node: SEAѤ67-∑2: The Citadel]

Aria looked down at her displays from her throne room at the pinnacle of the Citadel…although in this case the displays were represented by mirrored pools of water and her throne was a twisted tree in an impossible jungle scape. She mentally acknowledged her master’s insight in creating this place, part test, part game and wholly mesmerising…

The choice to incorporate players own visions for their worldscapes had been immensely successful and had provided some weird and wonderful places to explore. That they got their free subscriptions and their avatar’s names above the portals was payment enough, along with the massive processing power required to run their creations. Aria never ceased to be amazed at the inventiveness present here, and in that creativity was the key to unlocking the secrets that her master cherished so much.

[Aria]

fre∑dom
[April 15th, 2072 22:17; Somewhere in Touristville]

An AR loaded message appears in your inbox with a subtle ping announcing its arrival. The iconography tells you that the message originated entirely from within the ‘trix and you recognise the hooded figure and staff of lightening as the avatar of Prospero, an old school hacker who you’ve had dealings with in the past when you have needed some obscure code or hard to come by program. His hacker gang fre∑dom were based near here although you’d never been beyond the borders of their turf.

<<Fractal? I have urgent need of you…are you near Touristville at the moment? I want someone I know here when the so called investigators arrive. Your reputation for impartiality and discretion should convince them to talk to you…I want to know what happened but I am not about to trust these strangers.>>

A video file tag indicates a nearby node where a shocking series of feeds waits for download. It seems the gang have been attached, decimated even, although it is apparent that the attackers never reached the spider at the centre of his web…is this something you want to get involved in? It would mean relying on agents to follow your current mark until you had time to pick up his trail again…

[sabs]

[April 15th, 2072 22:17; Somewhere in Touristville]

Fractal floated in the black void that was his VR construct. A Blizzard of fractals swirled all around him. As his own ICON altered it's frequency, different fractals would match and deliver information to Fractal. The message from Prospero shimmered for attention, and he played it. He focused his will and changed his surroundings, playing the various feeds. <<For you, anything. I'm actually doing a little side gig in Touristville tonight.>> He checked the people mover and traffic information from Gridguide, <<I can be there in ..>> He calculated, he'd need a new disguise, something more appropriate. <<Give me 20 minutes to get there.>>

A small squadron of fractals broke off and made their way down the Matrix trail, following some scent. <<What kind of investigators? Should I go in all S&S? Or M&S?>>

He routed an auto taxi his way, and highlighted the autovendors on the way. He wouldn't have time for a major disguise, but hopefully something decent. Fractal worked furiously while he waited for everything to come together, coding himself a new disguise.

[ Spoiler ]

S&S: Suits and Sunglasses
M&S: Mohawks and Sunglasses

[Aria]

fre∑dom
[April 15th, 2072 22:17; Somewhere in Touristville]

<<I don’t know who these investigators are. A meddling hacker calling herself Summer turned up in one of my peripheral nodes and said she was sending them to me to help find out who was behind the attack. To say that I am suspicious of her motives would be a gross understatement!

You know this place, coming dressed to blend in will make sure you’re more likely to reach here. I know we aren’t barrens proper but there’s no need to advertise yourself.>>

[sabs]

[April 15th, 2072 22:17; Somewhere in Touristville]

Fractal made sure his agents would do their work, then slithered back out of VR. His logout functions triggered a loud snort, grunt, as if suddenly waking oneself up with a snore. He looked around, and saw that his taxi cab was almost at the destination. he stood up and walked slowly towards it. Checking camera angles, he stepped through an alleyway. Going in as an old Ork, he came out as a very young looking one. Full of swagger and thrust, he stepped into the taxi where it was waiting, and in stilted Japanese, told the taxi where to go.

<<I'm on my way. Should be there shortly. We can talk about handwashing when I get a feel for what's going on.>>

Fractal reviewed the feeds, and started doing searches on this Hacker calling herself Summer. While he was there, he hacked the taxi logs, so it would charge the ride to some corporate account, and forget who and where it had picked up.

[AppliedCheese]

[April 16th 2072; xx:xx Amidst a haze of allegedly smokeless powder, debris, and strobing flashes.]


*Crack* *Crack* *Crack* -chitch-

The unmistakeable sound of the bolt of an Ares Alpha locking to the rear.

"I'm OUT!"

Typically screaming this is considered a bad idea; however, the network had gone down a while back, when they lost contact with Mr. Green, and not everyone had radios anymore...


ssshhhhhtttt

The sound of an Ares Predator coming out of its Smart-Holster. No time for reflection on the particular brand name dominance apparent in Dealer's weapon selection.

pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft

Never did take the silencer off.

"DIE MOTHER FRAGGER DIE! Copper, where's Demon?!"

In short, all the sounds of a run having gone wrong...

[Aria]

fre∑dom
[April 15th, 2072 22:31; Somewhere in Touristville]

Jazz angrily rubbed the tears out of her eyes once more and hunched back against the propped fire escape door to shield herself from the bitter wind. Why hadn’t she been here…surely she could have done something? Even with clear evidence to the contrary her thoughts strayed back to this again. The other defenders hadn’t been able to even slow down the hunters who had come with their dogs and their guns. Freedom was broken and bleeding

Her lowlight AR glasses, the most expensive piece of tech she owned, picked out Sam across the street. The gangly young teenager looked back at her and gestured towards the approaching taxi…it seemed company was coming sooner than anticipated. She flicked off the safety on the AK and, facing it down towards the wall, briefly touched the trigger to ensure the neon green laser sight was operational…now she just had to see who it was and report back to the boss…

[Notsoevildm]

[April 16th 2072; xx:xx Amidst a haze of allegedly smokeless powder, debris, and strobing flashes.]

Cradling the dying Frenchman in her arms, Copperhead heard the gunfire pause and Dealer shouting, "I'm OUT!"

She kissed Demon gently on the forehead and then eased him to the ground. He gave a weak smile as she wrapped his fingers around the last of his fragmentation grenades and pulled the pin.

She thought she heard him say 'Au revoir, ma cherie' but her ears were ringing too much to be sure.

"He's dead and we need to leave now." she shouted back.

Despite her own wounds, she forced herself into a crouch and called out to Snake.

Mama, I need your help. Grant us your speed and conceal us from our foes.

She swayed, the pounding in her temples increasing to an even more frantic beat, but a translucent serpent hissed into view before her.

"Dealer, I know you don't fink much of mages but if you want to live, take ma fraggin hand and hold onto your fraggin breath."

Her long arm snaked out towards the street sam and then with the last of her strength, she leapt off the dock and into the freezing water.

[Trigger]

[Matrix Node: SEAѤ67-∑2: The Citadel]

Ælias floated right outside of The Citadel's node, looking up at the great archway that served as the portal into the game world. His persona was currently the one he wears as Simon Trent, the fake SIN he is projecting; it is that of a slim, heavily tattooed elven street samurai, katana on his back and heavy pistol at his side. Simon Trent was Horizon low-level management, a middle aged ork who scouted small time urban rap stars, who secretly wanted to be like the prettier metas, or that is what Ælias imagined Simon to be like.

He watched the node for a long while, watching the traffic in and out, watching the shifting of data around him, attuning himself to it. Slowly, piece by piece, Ælias reached out and began changing little bits of information in the flow, slowly building the game account for the user Simon Trent aka username AncientMan87. He found a keycode for one of the old beta test accounts, the trial offer subscription numbers from GameCicada (a live streaming game site he plays on sometimes), as well a few corporate account numbers with multiple accounts already attached to them. Those are usually some employee benefit account set up as a bonus for good wageslaves or office groups that all pay games together. Horizon has changed the ways megas treat their employees, and this kind of account was part of that change, a change Ælias particularly enjoyed.

There it was, the account was ready for him. He willed the time into the upper right corner of his vision, checking how long it took him to crack this one. Six hours? That's pretty wicked time if I do say. Now, let's see what this Citadel is getting all the buzz for.

[ Spoiler ]

Extended Spoof Test for access to The Citadel
*Hacking 4 + Spoof 5 + Paragon bonus 2 = 11 dice
Roll 1 - 1, 4, 1, 4, 5, 6, 1, 2, 5, 6, 3 = 4 hits

So after 6 hours of spoofing, he gets an account.

[Aria]

[Matrix Node: SEAѤ67-∑2: The Citadel]

The massive doors open with a hiss of gasses and a waft of pearlescent steam. The gatekeeper steps aside to let you past. You pass down a statue lined hallway, each one three times taller than a troll, depicting personalities from the game world perhaps? A broad sweep of steps leads you down and through another set of gargantuan doors that whisper aside at the lightest of touches. Inside is an impossibly large room dominated by a swirling planar orrery suspended in light. Swirling vapour trails project out to portals that surround the outer walls of the chamber and at each there are a gathering of avatars coming and going. The persona icons are wildly varied and fill the hall, chatting, rubber necking or on some other mysterious mission relating to the game.

A game agent, an icon you had initially taken for another piece of statuesque architecture, steps down from its alcove and approaches you. The ancient marble of its surface now ripples with life

“AncientMan87, this is your first time in the Citadel. Welcome to the Gathering Hall…from here you can go anywhere that your imagination can conceive, and many places that it cannot. Each portal will take you to a different game sphere, most can be reached from here, some only from within another sphere. From your profile I suggest the Gardens might suit you for an initial look at what we can offer but you can return here at will and pick any sphere. Ask and information will be made available to you…”

Time to play!

[Aria]

[April 16th 2072; xx:xx Amidst a haze of allegedly smokeless powder, debris, and strobing flashes.]

Ember wiped the water out of his eyes only to feel the stickiness and smell the metallic tang of blood

he listened dimly to the chatter of gun fire in the distance…so far away…



he clutched at his shoulder which bubbled with bright red blood…


clawing his way back to consciousness, fighting the pull of blissful sleep and escape from the pain…

~Sirene, child, protect my family, guard them from harm…~


Angrily he stood, swaying, feeling his strength draining away…he raised his clawed left hand to the heavens only to be jolted as another round caught him under the breast

~Mighty Lugh, grant me a boon now as I have never asked before, send me a bright warrior to cleanse the ground of my foes~

The ogam stone in his right hand was slicked with blood, so bright, the mana flowed through it, more than he had ever drawn on before, the blood…the spirit that appeared blazed incandescent on the astral mere moments before

dark…



so dark…





fire…

[Doctor Bob’s, Touristville, Redmond]

Sirene looked up as Argent lurched upwards in the bed, clawing at the drip in the back of her hand, gasping for breath and then Sirene felt the words of her master in her mind…fading…and the link was gone. She felt a surge of power and for a moment she prepared to launch herself back to her native plane, freed from the fetters of the mage’s whim…until she saw the eyes of the ones she had been charged to protect…so full of life and pain, did she really want to leave all this behind…?

[JxJxA]

@ E:PL
[April 16th 2072; Marseilles, at the Hôtel Embrasser Sensuelle]
[Erika Elite, ID "Maximilien Danton"]

Au revoir, mon chéri...

Gemeaux awakes with a start. He is breathing heavily, and notices his hair, skin, and faux-silk sheets are damp with sweat. A nightmare... he thinks to himself, ...and yet...too real to be just a bad dream... He thinks back to the one bit of science that managed to stick in his mind from his lessons---that some bits of matter and energy are so alike that they can "feel" each other across the universe. If that can be true for something as commonplace as matter, why could it not be true for souls? As someone whose entire existence is copied from someone else's unique blend of DNA, the thought often occurs to him that they share something of the metaphysical as well.

The philosophy also comes in handy when used as a pickup line, as a gentle squeeze from his amant de la nuit reminds him that he is not alone. He looks over at Beatrice---a pretty, young, twentysomething human woman who is still slumbering. Her beauty is not a thing of nature, as she bears all the telltale scars and signs of looks granted by the surgeon and not from her sires. Still, she had caught his oft wandering eye while she too was looking for some form of comfort in this cruel world, and tonight they agreed to take refuge in each other's embrace.

He brushes a few stray strands of her auburn hair away from her face, gently caressing her cheek as he does so. She mumbles some sweet nothing and holds him a bit tighter.

<<[Vivienne]: Damien, your heart rate has risen above normal levels. Is everything all right?>>

His PAN's personality program, modeled after a dear lost friend, interrupts his train of thought.

<<[Gemeaux]: Everything is fine, ma belle, nothing but a nightmare.>>

<<[Vivienne]: Very well, Damien, returning to slumber mode. Good night.>>

As the voice disappears, it begins softly playing a lilting piano piece by Faure. He leans back and closes his eyes, hoping that the soothing melodies of the piano and the warm embrace of Beatrice lure him back to sleep. However, he cannot help but think back on the nightmare and the possibility of entangled souls. He tries to remember the dream, but it is lost in the abyss of subconscious thought. He spends his last waking moments trying to figure out what disturbed him so before slipping back into unconsciousness.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@ E:PL
[April 16th 2072; Marseilles, at the Abbaye de Saint Victor(Abbey of Saint Victor)]


"I, Father Anselm Augustus, now, in the presence of Almighty God, the Blessed Virgin Mary, the blessed Michael the Archangel, the blessed St. John the Baptist, the holy Apostles St. Peter and St. Paul and all the saints and sacred hosts of heaven, and to you, my ghostly father, the Superior General of the Society of Jesus, founded by St. Ignatius Loyola in the Pontificate of Paul the Third, and continued to the present, do by the womb of the virgin, the matrix of God, and the rod of Jesus Christ, declare and swear, that his holiness the Pope is Christ's Vice-regent and is the true and only head of the Catholic or Universal Church throughout the earth; and that by virtue of the keys of binding and loosing, given to his Holiness by my Savior, Jesus Christ, he hath power to depose heretical kings, princes, states, commonwealths and governments, all being illegal without his sacred confirmation and that they may safely be destroyed."

As if this simple binding can hold any power while I know the truth...

"Therefore, to the utmost of my power I shall and will defend this doctrine of his Holiness' right and custom against all usurpers of the heretical or Protestant authority whatever, especially the Lutheran of Germany, Holland, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, and the now pretended authority and churches of England and Scotland, and branches of the same now established in Ireland and on the Continent of America and elsewhere; and all adherents in regard that they be usurped and heretical, opposing the sacred Mother Church of Rome. I do now renounce and disown any allegiance as due to any heretical king, prince or state named Protestants or Liberals, or obedience to any of the laws, magistrates or officers."

It had been many months getting to this point and whatever Peter actually thought of the days ceremony were buried behind miles of the lies he had already uttered to get to this point.

"I do further declare that the doctrine of the churches of England and Scotland, of the Calvinists, Huguenots and others of the name Protestants or Liberals to be damnable and they themselves damned who will not forsake the same."

"I do further declare, that I will help, assist, and advise all or any of his Holiness' agents in any place wherever I shall be, in Switzerland, Germany, Holland, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, England, Ireland or America, or in any other Kingdom or territory I shall come to, and do my uttermost to extirpate the heretical Protestants or Liberals' doctrines and to destroy all their pretended powers, legal or otherwise."

"I do further promise and declare, that notwithstanding I am dispensed with, to assume my religion heretical, for the propaganda of the Mother Church's interest, to keep secret and private all her agents' counsels from time to time, as they may entrust me and not to divulge, directly or indirectly, by word, writing or circumstance whatever; but to execute all that shall be proposed, given in charge or discovered unto me, by you, my ghostly father, or any of this sacred covenant."

"I do further promise and declare, that I will have no opinion or will of my own, or any mental reservation whatever, even as a corpse or cadaver, but will unhesitatingly obey each and every command that I may receive from my superiors in the Militia of the Pope and of Jesus Christ."

The blind leading the blind... I wonder how many here know what they are preparing for....

"That I may go to any part of the world withersoever I may be sent, to the frozen regions of the North, the burning sands of the desert of Africa, or the jungles of India, to the centers of civilization of Europe, or to the wild haunts of the barbarous savages of America, without murmuring or repining, and will be submissive in all things whatsoever communicated to me."

"I furthermore promise and declare that I will, when opportunity present, make and wage relentless war, secretly or openly, against all heretics, Protestants and Liberals, as I am directed to do, to extirpate and exterminate them from the face of the whole earth; and that I will spare neither age, sex or condition; and that I will hang, waste, boil, flay, strangle and bury alive these infamous heretics, rip up the stomachs and wombs of their women and crush their infants' heads against the walls, in order to annihilate forever their execrable race. That when the same cannot be done openly, I will secretly use the poisoned cup, the strangulating cord, the steel of the poniard or the leaden bullet, regardless of the honor, rank, dignity, or authority of the person or persons, whatever may be their condition in life, either public or private, as I at any time may be directed so to do by any agent of the Pope or Superior of the Brotherhood of the Holy Faith, of the Society of Jesus."
"In confirmation of which, I hereby dedicate my life, my soul and all my corporal powers, and with this dagger which I now receive, I will subscribe my name written in my own blood, in testimony thereof; and should I prove false or weaken in my determination, may my brethren and fellow soldiers of the Militia of the Pope cut off my hands and my feet, and my throat from ear to ear, my belly opened and sulphur burned therein, with all the punishment that can be inflicted upon me on earth and my soul be tortured by demons in an eternal hell forever!"

It's a damned good thing they forgot to get a decent ritual sample that cant be defended against...

"All of which, I, Father Anselm Augustus, do swear by the Blessed Trinity and blessed Sacraments, which I am now to receive, to perform and on my part to keep inviolable; and do call all the heavenly and glorious host of heaven to witness the blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist, and witness the same further with my name written and with the point of this dagger dipped in my own blood and sealed in the face of this holy covenant."

The long and interminable oath done with, Anselm rose from the bright red cross which covered the floor where he had been kneeling and left the shadow of the flags of the pope and the church militant and was embraced by the Lord-Commander, "My brother, you have been faithful to God and so many others this day! Go forth from here and Brother Tyrimus will have your mission for you shortly."

With barely a smile Father Anselm turned and strode down the echoing crypt passage to the waiting dormitory, at last, at long last, he had been inducted into the New Society of the Jesus... yet another step on his long road to complete his mission.

[Notsoevildm]

@ E:PL
[April 19th 2072; Dr.Ted's surgery, The Barrens]

Copperhead awoke with a start. She had been dreaming about the frenchman again.

For a moment, she did not know where she was, but the scent of antisceptic reminded her of Dr.Ted's surgery. With great difficulty she raised her head and took in the familiar surroundings. She had helped out here, supposedly while learning more about first aid and the magic bear that was currently resting on her chest, it's one glass eye staring back at her.

Not a good sign. Dr.Ted normally only uses the bear on his most seriously injured patients. Guess that's me at the moment.

She let her head drop back on the pillow. Her body felt strangely distant, sort of like when she went astral. That worried her a little. Just how badly injured was she and more importantly how the frag had she ended up here? Her last memories were of the ambush and hitting the cold water of Puget Sound. Not her best idea, she thought to herself. After all, she could barely swim and the currents in the sound claimed several lives each year. Not to mention the awakened creatures that lived in the water.

A faintly amused hiss reached her ears.

Not done with me yet then mama?

My daughter, I have barely begun. But firsst you musst recover your sstrength. Now sssleep.

[Trigger]

[Matrix Node: SEAѤ67-∑2: The Citadel]

Ælias spent a few moments gazing around the impressive architecture of the game's central node, looking over the multitude of other players around him, so many people. He shuddered slightly at amount, still a bit uncomfortable being around so many people after so much isolation. Anonymity though was best found in the throngs of metahumanity, something he had quickly learned in these last two free years.

They will never find you if you are just another face in the crowd. Just try to be like everyone else, to look like them, and they will never notice.

Ælias stepped into one of the small alcoves to the side of the hall, a dressing room of sorts. Time to get into something more fitting. He kept his base Elf persona, and then began the long but enjoyable process of deciding on just what kind of character he wanted to play. He finally decided on a outfit and character traits, a full set of dark, supple, leathers, short swords and a hand crossbow, and traits to match. He was an elven warrior thief, Simon would approve.

Next was the Gardens, like the game's agent recommended. Get used to the rules of the system before diving into the deep end and having some real fun.

[AppliedCheese]

@ E:PL
[May 2nd 2072; Novatech private bizjet, on the ground at ATL INTL]

<<We're here. We'll keep the deal>>

The well dressed Asian man walked back into the passenger compartment of the bizjet, looking at discarded caviar samplers and half empty champagne glasses. A small fortune in food and drink consumed by a man who had just spent another small fortune on travel. Or rather his corp had, but when your the senior VP, the lines tend to blur.

Like many imported MCT employees, he spoke English better than most English speakers. And that should have been a give away, because no corp would waste a scholarship on a low level flight attendant, the mnn would be known if he was a mover and shaker, and if he was just security, there's be no need for the expensive English instead of a linguasoft.

But Johnathan Teague was drunk. On Champagne, and just as importantly, on sucess and survival. Hansai dead, the shadowrunners out of the way, grand jury ditched the case for lack of evidence. A good week. The type of week to celebrate with champagne, caviar, and young women who thought they could be pop stars. The airplane always worked on them, though his current selection had apparently confused champagne with soda because of the bubbles, and was snoring soundly.
"Mr. Teague, we have arrived at Atlanta International airport, and Novatech east is happy to welcome you to its family. We hope you have just as much success here as you did in Seattle. I have a message from your former CEO, a traveling present."

The man handed over a commlink. Teague looked at the screen, blinked, and opened his mouth to scream. Which is where the bullet entered. The exit was not nearly as natural an orifice. The commlink clattered to the floor, a live feed of a grinning troll holding up three heads playing in its screen.

Hacker, Shaman, Muscle. That took some killing. But that was definitely worth it.

Dealer picked up the link, celullar gloves still holding the nanopaste skin tone , and sent a simple message <<@ Owner: Deal is complete. Thanks for the ride>> . Then he popped the battery and slid it into his pocket.

He nodded at the flight crew on the way out, his arrangement with a now much more comfortable Novatech CEO concluded.

Have to collect Copper out of baggage

[Trigger]

[Matrix Node: SEAѤ67-∑2: The Citadel]

The shadows hugged Ælias like a velvet glove as he moved through another hedgerow archway. He had been given a task by a Guardsman agent, to track a hobgoblin bandit who had escaped him in the hedge maze in the center of the Gardens Node. He hadn't told Ælias that the hobgoblin had friends though, or that they were using part of the maze as a headquarters to make attacks on the Gardens. Or, as he peaked around hedgerow corner, that they had dogs with them.

This is not what I signed up for. Guardsman figured me for an igit. Well, I'll show that shiesty statie, Ælias ain't no pushova.

There were two dogs and their hobgoblin caretaker around the corner, he sitting at a rickety table, eating something bloody, with both of the dogs resting at his feet. Ducking back around the corner, Ælias gives himself a look over, trying to figure out a way to distract the dogs. He had his short swords, his hand crossbow, as small shield he had taken from a lone hobgoblin earlier (not something he intended on keeping), and a few flowers from one of the plants in the Garden. He had identified it as capable of producing a moderate ingest-able poison, not something for his blades but for something more subtle. Something he didn't have, but maybe something he could fake. He had seen bones elsewhere in the Garden, but he didn't want to have to treck back out of this maze, it took an hour and a half to make it this far. But he could trick the system into thinking that he had grabbed it earlier and that is was now in his satchel.

Ælias let out a slow breath as began bringing the image of the bone to his mind, reinforcing his concentration on the Spoof, making the image more clear, more concrete. He coalesced the image into perfect clarity in his mind as he reached his hand into the satchel, summoning the fragments of data and code around his fist as he tried to spoof the bones into existence. This will be wicked pissa if this works.

[Notsoevildm]

@ E:PL
[May 3rd 2072; Copperhead & Cutter's appartment, Tacoma docks, Seattle]

Copperhead awoke with a start. She had been dreaming about the frenchman again. But rather than bleeding out in her arms, this time he had been in a stylish restautant in Paris in the company of an attractive red-head. They had been speaking French, none of which she could understand, until right at the end of the dream when he got up to leave. After passionately kissing the woman, he had whispered, 'Au revoir, ma cheri.'

It took her a moment to realise where she was. They had only moved into the appartment a week ago and were barely settled in when Dealer had contacted her about 'tying up loose ends'. That had involved an uncomfortable flight in the baggage hold of a Novatech private jet, followed by a a cramped, messy and brutal hand-to-hand fight and she hadn't even got to put the bullet in Teague's brain.

Well at least the payoff had been good. We finally got ourselves a proper place to live and still got some cred left over even after paying off Dr. Ted's medical costs and replacing the gear I lost in the sound.

[Trigger]

@ E:PL
[May 5th, 2072; Ælias's Studio, Auburn, Seattle]

Ælias sat up with a long stretch, feeling the weight settle into his muscles after hours in the 'Trix. The sky glowed with a deep orange red, a twilight only possible because of all of the pollution put off by the Federated Boeing Plant in the district. It was shaping up to be just another night in, reading the boards and playing Citadel, when a ping came in from VectΩr, one of his guild member buddies from the Refugees.

<< VectΩr: Hey chum, get off your butt and get out for a night. I know you, your sitting on that ugly green couch at home, about to sign into Jackpoint or something. I'm going to at the Cathode Glow in Tacoma tonight, and I got a little bit of business I could use your help on. Come on man, get out of the house and I promise, it will be worth your while. See you on the flip. >>

What's he mean, I get outta da house all the time. Don't know what he's talkin'bout. Fuckin' guy, whateva. I'll show him when I show up.

With a small grunt, Ælias hauls himself up off a battered green couch, worn but comfortable, and across the large studio to the single bathroom for the place. It small and not quite sized for an ork, as small for one as he might be, but it always had hot running water and refills on good, foaming, antibacterial soap thanks to a little spoofing here and there. It was the little things in life that made it worth coming out of the 'Trix, and hot water was definitely one of those. A quick shower and then he would skip over to the Cathode Glow. With a mental flick, he brought up the node to the taxi service three blocks over, he had left a backdoor there weeks ago and the owner still hadn't noticed. With another thought he put a reservation in for himself in an hour and then he was back out, the system none the wiser.

[May 5th, 2072, 10:45 PM; Cathode Glow, 6th Ave & North Cedar St, Tacoma, Seattle.]
<Passive PAN: SIN - Alex Random, UCAS Citizen>

Alex Random is a small ork, his tusks capped in silver, a digital circuit grid tattooed across his left cheek, with stunning silver eyes. His hair is pulled back in a short top knot, and most of his bulk is covered in a heavy Berwick great coat. Ælias has his Cavalier Scout in a hidden in shoulder holster, and a disposable commlink on his wrist, using it to run his public PAN and SIN. This was a simple disguise for him, a couple of accessories on his face and a different hair style, but it worked to change him enough for casual use. VectΩr would know what to look for though, the dwarf had the talent for finding other unwireds. All he needed to do right now was to just get a drink and check the place out.

"One lager and one whiskey."

[JxJxA]

@ E:PL
[April 29th 2072; Marseilles, at the Méditerranéenne Grotte]
[Erika Elite, ID "Maximilien Danton"]

"What a delightful place, Maximilien! How did you ever find it?"

Jolene giggles as she takes a dainty spoonful of soup from their serving of bouillabaisse for two. Well, as dainty a spoonful as is possible for an orc. Gemeaux smiles as he takes a bit of rascasse blanche from the seafood plate, and gently indicates to his date that she has a tiny bit of lipstick on her tusk.

"I have a penchant for all things Marseillaise, my dear, and this cafe is the one place that has all of my favorite things: bouillabasse, Côtes du Rhône, and, of course, a beautiful view." He gestures to Jolene as well as the window behind her, showing a picture perfect scene of the Vieux Port.

"You are terrible," she replies, but the slight blush on her cheeks lets him know that the compliment managed to hit home.

Unfortunately, it is at this very moment that Gemeaux notices four burly, gun-toting thugs walking into the cafe. The host tries to intercept them, but he is casually shoved aside by a particularly large troll. They scan the room until one of them spots Gemeuax and points a grubby finger in his direction.

This shit again.

"That's gotta be him, mate," says one of the thugs in English---a swarthy looking dwarf with an eyepatch. "Time to bag 'im and tag 'im."

"Maximilien, what is this?" Jolene stammers, the color quickly fading from her face.

"I do not know, my dear," he replies, "I am as confused as you are, but I will take care of this." He stands up, straightens his coat---and reassures himself that his concealed Savalette Guardian is still in its proper place, and addresses the band of vagabonds.

"I beg your pardon, but it appears that you addressing me? Why is that?" Gemeaux says crossly. He switches to English to be sure that the men can understand him.

"Look, a joker," says the troll. "Listen, chummer, we got a contract here that says you're worth at least 50 grand alive."

Gemeaux gives the gang his best attempt at feigned shock and disbelief.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, but you are disturbing me and my guest. I would have you apologize to her for rudely interrupting our dinner, and then I will entertain the possibility of clearing up your misconception."

The gang laughs, with the other three looking to the troll to take the lead once more.

"I don't know who you think you are, or how much you paid that street slut, but there ain't nothing to discuss. You're coming with us." As if to emphasize his leader's point, one of the troll's cronies---a gold-toothed human with a torn ear---hocks up a disturbingly green wad of phlegm on the seafood plate. This is the tipping point for poor Jolene, whose nerves and gag reflex finally get the best of her, and she goes tearing off towards the bathroom while desperately holding in the contents of her roiling stomach.

Gemeaux narrows his eyes at the "bounty hunters."

<<[Gemeaux]: Vivienne, my dear, please release the safeties on my sidearm. It appears I will have to use it tonight.>>

<<[Vivienne]: Very well. I've collected the information on the RFID tags from the four thugs as well. It looks like Shiawase will always haunt us, won't it?>>

<<[Gemeaux]: It certainly looks that way, but keep hope alive. Without hope, life is not worth living.>>

As he carries on the conversation with his PAN, he addresses the thugs.

"Gentlemen---and I use the term loosely given your lack of manners---you have insulted me and my guest. Apparently, you believe you have business with me, but you have none with this establishment or with Jolene. We will continue this discussion outside, and once we clear up this situation, I am certain that you will feel very ashamed and foolish for how you have just carried on." With that, he marches outside past the somewhat surprised bounty hunters. However, they soon follow suit, drawing their weapons and poking the muzzles into Gemeaux's back.

"Not so fast, Frenchie. Don't try anything stupid."

"I am but walking outside with the four of you aiming weapons at me. What could I possibly try?"

They exit the Méditerranéenne Grotte through the front---which happens to open up to a back alley. This let the cafe maximize its view of the Vieux Port. It also made for a discreet entrance and exit, which is the real reason why Gemeaux favors the cafe---although it's take on traditional Marseillaise cuisine makes for a wonderful bonus as well. Having access to an alley sans witnesses made what Gemeaux was planning possible.

Upon crossing the alley's threshold, one of the thugs shoves Gemeaux with the muzzle of his gun again. With an exaggerated huff, Gemeaux stops walking.

"I would advise you not to do that again, monsieur."

"What, this?" The thug shoves him again.

Yes. That.

Gemeaux pretends to stumble from the force of the second push, but instead snaps out his silenced Savalette Guardian and fires a perfect shot right between the offender's---the dwarf--beady little eyes. As the action unfolds, time seems to slow down for the Frenchman as he watches on with no small amount satisfaction. The dwarf's head erupts from the impact of the explosive bullet, startling the other three bounty hunters and giving Gemeaux a chance to fire on the human. Another shot to the head leads to another eruption of woefully underemployed gray matter.

The two remaining bounty hunters---the troll and a twitchy looking elf---try to bring their weapons to bear on Gemeaux. However, his former masters' hardware and his own instincts kick in to deal with the situation. He dashes between the two bounty hunters, hesitating for just a moment as he passes them. The gambit pays off, and both of them fire their weapons without paying any heed to whom they are actually shooting at. Gemeaux glides past the two men as they pump slugs into each other, and adds a pair of his own to each bounty hunter's head.

"I told you that you would feel ashamed and foolish," he chides softly, switching back to French. He checks the bodies for IDs, credsticks, and commlinks.

<<[Gemeaux]: Vivienne, could you be a dear and upload all of this information to my PAN? I need to find out how these villains found me, and determine if there are any other would-be fortune finders that I have to eliminate.>>

<<[Vivienne]: Done and...done. All information uploaded to your PAN. Perhaps you should check in on Jolene? I'm sure she is still in shock over this whole debacle.>>

<<[Gemeaux]: Of course, how could I forget? What would I do without you, Vivienne?>>

[Aria]

@ I'm on a boat
[April 15th 2072; 23:56:30 SS Henry VIII Puget Sound, 3585m off shore]

Silk swore under her breath...Khalil wasn't responding, Siran had rushed out into the night somewhere and her spy drone wasn't registering her any more...dammit, this was why she didn't like working with people she didn't know and trust...perhaps it really was time to reestablish Balefire again as he wanted? For now she was stuck here with the freaky muscle and the Captain but at least the shooters had moved out of sight for now. Clutching her mashed side she slipped a pain killing patch onto her shoulder...

<<@Nine: we are making for the exit with the package...I hope you're listening as we're going to be bloody exposed out on that gantry>>

She gestured back to Robert and then stepped cautiously back in to the line of fire, trusting that her suit would give her sufficient cover for now (not that it had done much good before)

"Let's go Captain, we are making for a life boat...let's not make this any more difficult that it is, you will have worked out that our employers want you in one piece but if you make us drag you then I have no compunction about knocking you out and having my colleague carry you. Let's move!"

[Notsoevildm]

@ E:PL
[May 5th 2072; Simon Finney's lodge, Seattle]

Copperhead glared at the dwarf. He was worse than Snake when it came to secrets. When he was explaining magic theory to her, it all seemed straightforward. But when she tried to put his instructions into practice, nothing worked.

The dwarf could clearly sense her frustration. He twirled his moustache and sighed, "You are doing great. You just need to relax and let the mana flow through you. Look, perhaps we should call it a day for now. Come back next week and we will pick up where we left off. Okay?"

He was treating her like a moron and she felt like one too. Her head was aching from the exercises and his magic theory babbling. She packed up her gear and with a mumbled agreement, clumped out into the night.

She was burning through her cred and had no work. Maybe Argent could set her up with something. While things had quietened down and she was no longer being actively hunted by half of Seattle, she was still too much of a shadow celeb. So, something out of town might be best. Maybe Boston or Chicago. Probably best not to go back to Atlanta after her recent trip there. She dialled the number on her new commlink.

[Aria]

@ E:PL / Copperhead
[May 5th 2072; Outside Simon Finney's lodge, Stillwater]

Ignoring the large amounts of nature intruding on your thoughts and Finney's mantras that are still hissing around the back of your skull you contact Argent on the secure line that she gave you. The AR image resolves quickly into her striking but slightly haggard face, eyes reddened and facepaint non existent. She has clearly pulled herself together with an effort of will but it doesn't take much to see the cracks

"Copperhead? It is good to see you again, I am sorry I haven't been able to put any work your way recently but you will appreciate that the shadows are still buzzing after Teague's temmerity and then recent misadventure. I hear the upper management are satisfied with the outcome so surely things will calm now, these things are never remembered for long..." there is bitterness in her tone, she will clearly remember... "I have some courier work you can do if you want to get out of town for a while? I should be able to find you something more lucrative in the next couple of months, I know that the Stillwater group have some sort of agenda that they wish to discuss with me and I will give them your name if it fits your talents. For now there's a lodge on the southern face of Cougar Mountain...if you tell the Toymaker that I sent you he will provide you with the details. I trust you can make your own arrangements to leave Seattle but if that is a problem then I'm sure I can fix something..."

[Aria]

fre∑dom
[April 15th, 2072 22:31; Somewhere in Touristville]

The orc that stepped out of the taxi was in street gear, and he’d arrived in a taxi rather than some armoured van and black ops gear like the attackers from before…that did little to make Jazz inclined to get close to him…

---

Your eyes rove the street ahead as you step from the taxi and it departs with the chirpy beep of acknowledgement for the fare you’ve just palmed off on someone else. This was clearly a nice place to live once but the neighbourhood has decayed gently over the past decade or so. Your wifi search picks up the usual trash signal…including a fridge screaming about a growing biohazard in its depths…but clearly indicates a cheap comm on the figure crouched in a second floor fire escape door some twenty meters or so ahead of you. Opposite there is another signal and you see a less well concealed ganger fumbling with some sort of hand gun. He’s a skinny punk, can’t be much older than twelve, the threat is in the other one as you recognise the tell-tale profile of the ubiquitous AK, the green laser sight swinging along the crumbling asphalt towards you…