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

[Aria]

@E:PL
[June 27th, 2072; ShadowSEA Private Meeting Node, Seattle Matrix]

The icon facing you is of an imposing looking female elf with a tell-tale silver white streak through the front of her hair. The resolution is good and made to make you feel as if this is what the user looks like in the flesh…of course you know better than most that the matrix is as full of lies as of truths…

“Ah, Ælias, thank you for joining me. I take it that you are at the very least interested in the proposal and are free for the coming couple of weeks? Good, then I will introduce you to your Johnson and allow you to discuss the terms with her. If you require further assistance then you have my contact details. This is Ms. Novac from the Stillwater Community…”

And her icon fades from the node as another steps into place. You have heard of Novac by reputation from your conversations with VectΩr. She’s an old school decker and Sysop for the Community…seems she’s branching out as Johnson now. The icon is crudely rendered by contrast with Argent’s but you can see that this is a deliberate statement rather than a lack of investment…on closer inspection each angular facet is made up of countless more down to a sub molecular level. For a mundane she shows some skill and is probably worthy of respect.

“Ælias? I’ll be brief as I understand you have your own commitments to see to. There is a small sub group of the Stillwater Community set up in Chicago dedicated to hiding technomancers from those who would exploit or otherwise hurt them. In this I gather this tallies with your own agenda and that of the Refugees? The Blackwater group is about to be compromised, we don’t know how yet, and we need to get the people out of there and back here to Seattle where they can be protected. I have already arranged for another two runners to meet up with you in Chicago, Dealer and Copperhead are both competent individuals but they lack your matrix expertise. I have a couple of other teams en route and between you we will split the Blackwater Group and have you each take a different path back to Seattle to avoid trying to move too big a group across the borders. This data package will give you information on your charges. Now, do you have any questions before we move onto the details of payment?”

The data burst is short, two SINs and some additional details on Kathy, and Dave, both young, a human and an orc and presumably both gifted like yourself…

[Aria]

freΣdom
[April 15th, 2072 22:31; Apartment Block Basement, Prospero’s Lair, Touristville, Redmond]

Sammy leaves you at a door in the sub basement nodding at the blinking red light on the CCTV camera looking down at you. The door opens with a hiss and your optics automatically adjust to the gloom inside. The place is full of dust and allows you to make out the projectors that are producing the holographic rendering of a withered husk of a human male supported by a plethora of medical equipment. Seems he’s not prepared to meet you in the flesh after all. The voice when it emerges is dry but was clearly once able to sway people with its softness and tone

“Fractal, thank you for being here. I apologise for the brashness of my guardians but they have suffered greatly in the last few hours so I am sure you will make allowances for their grief as well as their youth. You have seen the data file and the bodies in the street…nothing has been touched since the attack, I insisted…I need to know who is responsible and why they came. They have escaped my grasp and my followers are in no fit state to find this knowledge so I must look to the outside…to you… If you can find nothing here then I suggest you track down Summer and find out what she knows…she has meddled here and clearly knows more…I don’t care how you extract the information! Find me the truth and I will reward you well!”

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@ E:PL
[May 5th, 2072; Marseilles, in a dark alleyway about 10 blocks from the Saphir de la Côte d'Azur]

"In mortem a vita ... Mitto ego te ad infernum unde venistis!" The bolt of heavenly wrath which shot from Anselm's work scarred hands was a molten arc of light, blinding its intensity, which filled the alleyway with a garish noon-day glare and left arcing spots across the vision of those who could observe. The smell of sulfur and ozone left in its trail as it slammed into the departing heathen spoke volumes of the source from which it had been pulled.

At the sight disappearance of their masters and the oncoming onslaught of the Angel, the spirits fell back, their main purpose achieved, though from their disappearance as rapidly as they had come, Anselm could tell that at least the satanist was no longer conscious, and most likely extremely charred. Anselm dismissed the Angel with a prayer of thanks and immediately the divine light seemed to flow from his person, leaving him the slightly geriatric looking bent priest in a torn robe flapping about his legs.

The unseemly stench which filled the vacuum left by the lance reminded him that channeling so much divine favor was unwise to engage in or plead for as a common habit. I really should've cornered this Gemeaux earlier, when I found out about his trip... too much time was wasted and this ordeal has forced my hand too much into the open... Now to dissemble before this wencher and show myself to be another vagrant in this changing world...

Pushing his cowl even further up to shield himself from being fully scanned, he hobbled back to where he had been selling his indulgences, but not before he said in a querulous voice, "My son, you should take more care as to the company you keep. A man such as you would do well to find work in another place... be content for now that God set you in my path this night, for it seems he has plans for you yet, Madame Liane would be sorely upset to find her favorite companion assaulted by so many again..."

[Trigger]

@E:PL
[June 27th, 2072; ShadowSEA Private Meeting Node, Seattle Matrix]

Ælias' gives Argent a nod as she leaves, a mental thanks for the setting up of this meeting. His icon is currently that of a skinny, teenage human, a unspiked flopped over the left side of his face, and his body dressed in a fine Vashon Line Steampunk suit, a virtual dichotomy of status. Whatever will throw them off the trail.

He listens intently to the Johnson's, to Novac's description of the job, letting himself analyze the details she has already presented and what details he can infer from what she hasn't said. Blackwater? That sounds much more ominous than Stillwater, though admittedly, neither name is very reassuring sounding. She also assumes I am going to agree, she already has people on the ground there, I am just the final, crucial it seems, player. Maybe I can use that to my advantage...

"Yeah, I have a question... are the charges willing to be extracted and moved? Are they aware of what is going to happen, or are they going to need to be restrained as well as babysat? Outside of that detail, I am interested in this job; you guys over at Stillwater have been cooperative with us Refugees over the last few years, I like to think that we are each benefiting from the other."

[JxJxA]

@ E:PL
[May 5th, 2072; Marseilles, in a dark alleyway about 10 blocks from the Saphir de la Côte d'Azur]
[Erika Elite, ID "Maximilien Danton"]

As the wizard's duel unfolds between the priest and the goon's spirit, Gemeaux thinks back to Shiawase's instruction concerning magical threats.

"The first rule for combating spirits: Don't. Run if you can. If that option is nonexistent, then hit the mage with everything you have and more. Most mages don't expect "mundanes" to resist. If that's not an option, target the spirit and shoot to annihilate." Time to put that last theory to the test. He loads a full cartridge into his gun and switches over to burst fire mode.

<<[Gemeaux]: Vivienne, my dear, set up a targeting equation optimized for damage on that swarm of rats please.>>

<<[Vivienne]: Of course, Damien. Processing... Hmm, that is odd. Those "rats" are not giving off usual life signs.>>

<<[Gemeaux]: That is because it is a spirit masquerading as a pack of sewer rodents.>>

<<[Vivienne]: Ah... I see. Targeting equation established, you may fire when ready.>>

Time to put my training to the test... He focuses on the smartgun data playing across his vision, watching the "rats" combat the "angel", and then fires a three-shot burst into the swarm. He grins in satisfaction as he hears the otherworldly beast howl in pain. He continues to unload salvos into the spirits, assisting the mage's servant in disrupting the hostile spirits.

When the dust finally settles from the astral-tinged firefight, Gemeaux notices that his cigarette has burned out. He disposes of it with a nicotine addict's practiced flick, and immediately draws and lights a new cigarette. He reloads his gun and looks back at the mage, a world-weary---and now battle-weary---priest wearing some church's denominational paraphernalia. When the man pulls his hood down, it only underlines his prior skepticism with well-placed suspicion.

"My son, you should take more care as to the company you keep. A man such as you would do well to find work in another place... be content for now that God set you in my path this night, for it seems he has plans for you yet, Madame Liane would be sorely upset to find her favorite companion assaulted by so many again..."

Gemeaux gives a congenial chuckle, albeit tinged with an uncomfortably palpable hint of mockery.

"I appreciate the assist," he says nonchalantly in English, gesturing to the downed gunmen. "Whether I am grateful all depends on what your 'Providence' has in plans for me. I would be twice foolish tonight if I did not ask you this question---especially since you seem to have issue pronouncing 'Madame Lianne's' name: What do you want from me?"

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@ Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:24:00 : Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive]

The bustling atmosphere of this mid-sized establishment on the corner of Pacific Avenue and South 19th Street was always a comfort for Jack, he felt at home here in this Vory-run poker den which siphoned the hard-earned, or hardly-earned in the case of a few, wages of the local dock workers and students sentenced to live in this section of town. Something about the old world feel that the Vory had worked so hard to instill in the place, despite its obviously seedy surroundings gave the impression that you might just strike wealth here, and that impression always lent itself to lucky individuals scooping up the wages of the unskilled who plunked everything they had on a single flop of the cards.

It was an early and productive night for Jack, who had already raked in a good seven thousand nuyen from the round-robin tournament which had concluded minutes ago with a stunning stroke of luck revealing a flush to top out the pair of Aces which had been the hope of a younger, and very much unrefined dockhand.

"That's drek man! You got no Hez!" The admittedly large ork was still very agitated and physically threatening as the guards for the business restrained him and tossed him out into the already pitch black night. The nuisance settled, Jack returned to the bar and ordered a real- draft beer. No nutri-brew for me tonight. Not when lady luck has been so kind to me. Jack shuddered at the remembered taste of the soy-based fungal brew that was his drink of desperation when the chips were down. Thankfully though, tonights winnings meant he'd be in the black for some time to come... so long as he could hold onto what he had won.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@ E:PL
[May 5th, 2072; Marseilles, in a dark alleyway about 10 blocks from the Saphir de la Côte d'Azur]

Anselm's occasional slur from his partially malformed tongue made his pronunciation of Lianne's name sound even more clumsy than he had anticipated and Gemeaux was quick to mock the priests sillibant speech, "I appreciate the assist. Whether I am grateful all depends on what your 'Providence' has in plans for me. I would be twice foolish tonight if I did not ask you this question---especially since you seem to have issue pronouncing 'Madame Lianne's' name: What do you want from me?"

Anselm frowned beneath his cloak, he was one who liked to keep his tools in the dark until they needed to know things, but his usual theatrics seemed to be at a disconcerting lack of efficacy these past few weeks, Damn... I have to acquire his services now or he may well shoot me. This last thought was emphasized by the slightly elevated tilt of the freshly reloaded gun in Gemeaux's deadly and capable hands.

He raised his hands and removed the cowl from his head to show he meant no harm.

"I meant no offense my son. I simply was informed that you were a man who might benefit from a timely absence in this country with skills that I would greatly desire on a business trip. I had been told that you frequented this venue as often as I have and meant to speek to you earlier after I had finished selling my wares for the day but I believe you found this intrusion into your privacy acceptable for the time being? Believe me, I have no interest in you in the way these unbound souls did, you are merely a man with talents I desire."

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:25:37 : Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive]

The beer wasn't the best Jack had ever had, but it tasted like victory in this place both dark and rich. The winnings would inevitably go mostly into the next tournament buy-in or at least most of them, but that was a worry for another time. It was the first time he had a decent victory and didn't spend the entire night drowning himself trying to forget about his father's murder. Life was too short, he popped one of his pills while reading the label to himself, "Do not take with alcohol" Jack smiled and finished off his beer. He would have ordered another but saw Hawke walking toward him, most like to congratulate his new friend. Jack had been a fairly new arrival to the area, but had already made and lost small fortunes at this fine establishment. Jack stood up and made his way over politely leaving his empty glass at the bar.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:27:15 : Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive]

Hawke, who's alias readily described his slavic features, was generally a genial medium-built man who ran the day-to-day operations of the floor tournaments and was rumored to be able to point any serious inquiries into the more dubious side of tacoma towards the proper authorities, those authorities of course, varied greatly depending on the party doing the inquiring.

So Jack had heard anyways, from the few "friends" he had made in the bare month since he had been relocated off of his family's quarters in the small condo by the Horizon Creative Focus Retreat for "further expansion of his creative nature and in the company's best interests due to the mentally destabilizing effects of sudden loss". Expansion of my creative nature my ass! What they really mean is to keep me on hook line and sinker for mom, wherever she is... and probably so they have a convenient scape-goat if they find real evidence to pin on me.

"Jack, my young friend! Welcome back!" Smiling as if he too had just profited greatly from being in the same room as Jack and he was some long-lost cousin, Hawke barked a few orders in russian to a passing server who immediately disappeared to return moments later with a freshly refilled glass of beer. "I see you have had a new date with you tonight? Lady luck must be well charmed indeed to spend so much good fortune on one young man."

As Hawke deftly steers the slightly non-plussed Jack back towards the poker tables with a friendly but iron-clad grip, Jack realizes he probably wont leave tonight with all of his winnings intact.

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:27:44 : Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive]

"Hawke, good to see you around. I was hoping to make use of your facilities next door, though I realize it is after hours. I would be happy to compensate you with some of my recent winnings for the inconvenience." Jack fell prey to the same trap he typically did after winning a game with a decent payout, the curse of generosity. Maybe combining pills and alcohol isn't such a great idea. So let's throw guns into the equation to help balance it out. Jack realized he must have drifted off for a moment after talking to Hawke and quickly came back to reality. Jack was hoping his pills would kick in a bit faster, he had felt his grip slipping towards the end of the game but didn't want to show weakness to his ork opponent. Luckily for Jack that nuisance had already been dealt with.

"I was also wondering if you knew of any other games in the area, preferably with a 5,000 nuyen buy-in?" He wasn't going to make any money at the big games until he worked up to it with the small ones. The major game Jack had been trying to earn the cred for was a 100,000 nuyen buy-in and he was no where near the kind of cash to play at those tables. Just breathe and wait for a few man, they just need time to work.. Jack took a sip of the beer Hawke had so generously offered him.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:27:15 : Outside the Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]

"That no good breeder! He can't take ma hez from me like that! Rasta won't take that omae! You watch your back pinkie!" The fairly sedate Tacoma night was broken by the enraged yelling of the ork being tossed out of The Crimean in an unceremonious fashion by the bouncers at the door. Jackal finished smoking his cigarette where he had been watching the passersby from across the street and stubbed it against the bullet-scarred barrier separating Pacific Ave from the 705 corridor.

The ork drunkenly swayed back towards the docks from which he had come, shouting all manner of obscenities about the breeding and parentage of the human scum that had oppressed his ancestors as Jackal casually strode across to the front entrance of the Crimean. Standing an impressive 3 and a half meters he towered over the human guards out front who gave him suspicious if cautious looks from behind their shades. He moved through the doors and immediately spotted Hawke who at the moment had his arm wrapped around a gangly looking and uncertain youth by the poker tables. Heh, guess Hawke is eager to hang onto as many chips as possible tonight.

Catching Hawke's eye, Jackal motioned to the back stairs with his head and began heading to the bar for a drink.

[Aria]

@ E:PL / Gemeaux, Mr Hill
[May 5th, 2072; Marseilles, in a dark alleyway about 10 blocks from the Saphir de la Côte d'Azur]

As you eye each other up in the alley way, trying to judge each other’s intentions, you hear a scream from above you. It is easy enough to place the location as the shattered window that the shaman crawled through a few moments ago. Whether he is dead or still amongst the living is largely irrelevant now that he’s been discovered. There is no telling exactly what the response of the screamer may be, after all this isn’t the kind of neighbourhood where the first response is to summon the Police Nationale, but the streets have other authorities that don’t take kindly to disturbances outside their establishments…vacating the scene is probably prudent...

[Aria]

@E:PL / Ælias
[June 27th, 2072; ShadowSEA Private Meeting Node, Seattle Matrix]

“I appreciate your concern for their safety. Yes, they are aware that they are to be extracted to Seattle and will come willingly, in fact I think they will be very glad to see you, Blackwater isn’t the nicest of places. The reason we are employing runners isn’t just to guard our charges against those hunting them. Blackwater is underground within the former containment zone. In fact it was a former hive before Ares fragged the place in fifty eight. But then, where better to hide a nascent technomancer movement? Or so we thought…we need to get them to a safe haven before the group is compromised.

There are the dangers of the lawless which go beyond what you might see in the barrens here in Seattle. Chicago is a changed place that has been abandoned by all but the desperate or the insane. They’ve always avoided the bug nests though. Bring them out, avoid any entanglements with the authorities and the gangs and keep them safe from the hunters…simple enough right?

Here are the contact details of Copperhead and Dealer. I will leave it to you to decide with them how best to get your packages out of Chicago and back to Seattle. Dealer has smuggling connections but if for some reason you can’t use them then we can connect you with alternatives…but we’d prefer to keep our network out of this if we can to avoid any repercussions if things go badly in Chicago."

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:27:44 : Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive]

Hawke seemed to be in a good mood and after a 500 nuyen tip the doors to the shooting range were opened for a private audience of one. Jack stepped through the door went to the nearby stall and started unloading rounds. The ammo wouldn't last forever so after another 500 nuyen tip several small boxes of ammo were placed on the table behind the range in use. Jack's mind began to focus better as the meds took effect. "Hawke, you know anyone that can actually teach me to hit any better. I've had this gun for a couple of years now and I still feel clumsy?" Jack fired off a few more and evaluated his shots.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:35:32 : Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive]

Hawke, however had slipped out of the room and left in his stead a pretty human female that only good Russian genes could produce. "Hello sir, Mr. Vladoff instructed me to do anything you would require... Anything at all." The way she batted her eyelashes and the remarkable bosom that she displayed by leaning eagerly forward to assist Jack reload the magazines hinted that she took the instructions to the letter. Mr. Vladoff has important guests to attend to at the moment but I'm certain we can assist you with that... I know many women who can help you with that skill...

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@ E:PL
[May 5th, 2072; Marseilles, in a dark alleyway about 10 blocks from the Saphir de la Côte d'Azur]

The piercing scream once again showed the fool-hardy nature of having gotten involved at such an inopportune time and brought Anselm once again to feel that he seemed to be experiencing a radical day of misfortunes in terms of planning. Damn.... Now we really have to get out of here, hired or not.

"Ahem, However, regardless as to whether you believe me or not I suggest that we exit this alley with all divine haste... I'm certain someone will be here momentarily..." And I just did a HUGE amount of magic...hope the cleaners can get here quickly or this will get even worse... Anselm mentally called up the priory and sent him as trite a message as possible, <<22:32:10 - Padre - I did not mean to call this number unsecured but it would seem that God chose to work his will in an unusual way this evening. I need the cleaners here at Rue 67 San Soucie post haste... theres been an unfortunate amount of divine intervention on my part. - Anselm >>

Hoping Gemeaux would follow, Father Anselm turned and began vigorously striding to the other side of the alleyway, further down the passage in order to use a fresh exit.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:30:12 : the Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]

Hawke disappeared momentarily into the adjacent shooting range with his new young friend in tow and reappeared moments later, issuing orders to an especially attractive female who quickly disappeared back into the door which he had just vacated. He looked over to where Jackal was watching him and nodded quickly and turned to head for the back stairs and the office above the gaming parlor.

Jackal finished his soybrew and casually walked over to the stairway. As he mounted the stairs he felt hands on him as the hidden security guards in the alcove to the side frisked and patted him down, pausing several times to feel for his concealed Ares crusader and other special goodies. "Hey, a man's gotta have company on these lonely nights omae." The security team made no reply, body language or otherwise and simply stepped back inside the alcove once the check was complete.

Free to continue upstairs, Jackal turned left at the second landing he came to and knocked on the old oak door. "The Pony Express was an experiment in breaking the law." Five seconds later the door creaked open and the luxurious middle-managers office, or at least luxurious for a mid-level floor manager in the Vory crime family opened up. Mr. Vladoff was seated behind his teak desk with a rocks glass filled with a crystal clear liquid and a freshly opened bottle of real Russian vodka pooling condensation on a cooling tray.

"Ah, Jackal, have you what this traveler requires?"

Jackal didn't reply, except to pull the large package out of his capacious jacket pocket and set it with one hand on the desk in front of Hawke. The size comparison was not lost on either of them as the package that had easily fit in Jackal's palm took both hands for the Russian to move closer.

"I got what you requested, though it seems the sokaiya didn't want to part with it easily... I need extra compensation for that hassle, you didn't include that in the details Hawke..." The package, old ledgers actually written in paper, quite useless as far as Jackal was concerened, even if they did tell a bit about the local Yakuza human resourcing budgets, was actually two 5 inch thick manilla envelopes taped roughly together. Hawke looked up, slightly irritated from the peevish expression on his face, "You could've packaged these more carefully... a bag would've worked as well."

Jackal's eyes narrowed and he spoke softly, "I didn't exactly have time Mr. Vladoff, lead was flying fast and they even brought a slitch in who could toss spells... You didn't say that the Shigeda-gumi ran this operation or I'd have been able to assemble a team with more juice."

Hawke paused, caught half-way between anger at this imposing troll's impudence and respect for a forceful character that wasn't about to back down, especially when he was correct about the intel. Hawke of course, couldn't have known about the mage-bitch or who ran it, his masters had commanded that the target of opportunity be hit and he had complied. Still, the troll could be awarded, it paid in the shadows to make friends with imposing individuals such as this, they could be pinned for things too...

"Alright, Alright, 5k no more no less. Alexei will cash you out and take care of any supply issues you may need to address..." Hawke turned, quickly rifling through the packages and storing them in the safe Jackal knew to be behind his armored teak desk. "Thank you Hawke, I always appreciate an understanding soul."

Jackal turned and retraced his steps, turning right on the first landing to stop by the "cashier's office" and pick up his certified credstick from Alexei as well as to place an order for some ex-explosive rounds for pick up in a day.

As he finished heading down the stairs a massive explosion rocked the building and the front doors, 60 feet across the parlor floor blew inward along with most of the front wall. Screams filled the air as patrons and employees alike scrambled for cover and the security team inside the alcove burst forth, all looking deadly serious and equally well armed.

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:36:11 : Stalingrad Range, adjacent to the Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive]

"Awesome, so you know how to shoot? I have seen all these different trids, they make it seem easy and all, but I have an actual need to learn here. There are a lot of punks out there claiming to be the best, I'm not one of them. I am the one that needs to get better and I have the motivation to learn. How's your motivation to teach? Would 500 be enough to motivate?"

You friggin' idiot stop waving your cash around you stupid showboating piece of drek. Quit acting like a child. Jack looked at the woman and was curious as to why Hawke had sent her to deal with him. Usually he sent this particular piece of eye candy to deal with the more formal guests. Jack fired off a few more rounds and waited for her reply.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:36:32 : Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive]

"I can teach you any time baby... What was that?!" The stunning model cum server whirls around and looks at the door to the Crimean. "Did you hear that? Something just happened! I heard an explosion I think! дерьмо!" She immediately turns and goes straight to a beat up old locker which Jack hadn't noticed before and flipped open the lid. She rummages through the box and deftly pulls out a Defiance T-250 shotgun and grabs a box of shells. She turns and finishes loading the shotgun with incredible speed for someone so unlikely. 'Not in my home, those bitches had better not be back here again... I blow their brains out!"

Not wanting to antagonize the obviously pissed off server Jack is left standing flat-footed, mouth agape at the sudden change in mannerism. "Uh, what? I didn't hear anything.... can you teach me to shoot or not?!" The rest however falls against a retreating back as the girl rushes to the door and opens it slightly. Now it would appear that the girls senses are right as the opened sound-proof door is now no barrier to the cries and screams echoing beyond.

[JxJxA]

@ E:PL
[May 5th, 2072; Marseilles, in a dark alleyway about 10 blocks from the Saphir de la Côte d'Azur]
[Erika Elite, ID "Maximilien Danton"]

Gemeaux notices the priest's furtive glance at his gun and smothers a grin. The gesture was meant as a professional courtesy, letting the priest know that his question was a serious one---especially given the curious circumstances of their first encounter. He thinks he sees the man's demeanor shift slightly, but with the low light and various sensor data still scrawling across his vision it is a little hard for him to tell.

"I meant no offense my son. I simply was informed that you were a man who might benefit from a timely absence in this country with skills that I would greatly desire on a business trip. I had been told that you frequented this venue as often as I have and meant to speek to you earlier after I had finished selling my wares for the day but I believe you found this intrusion into your privacy acceptable for the time being? Believe me, I have no interest in you in the way these unbound souls did, you are merely a man with talents I desire."

A business proposition, and a convenient one. It would not hurt to hear him out as he did help, although I am not sure I wish to guess at what sort of dirty work a man of the cloth has in store for an assassin.

A bloodcurdling scream from the building where the shaman fled breaks his train of thought.

"Ahem, However, regardless as to whether you believe me or not I suggest that we exit this alley with all divine haste... I'm certain someone will be here momentarily..."

"A wise choice," Gemeaux replies. "Back alleys are only useful for killing and carnal solicitation. I am done with the first, and uninterested in the second. If we are talk business, I would prefer to do it somewhere well-lit."

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 22:31:58; E. 18th St., St. Paul Waterway Overlook]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford

Another uneventful day, or night, depending on one's outlook on cup contents, cheery dispositions, and unicorns crapping rainbows. Saint leaned against the safety railing looking out over the rippling mass of water, and whatever else was mixed in. The cold breeze coming off it was blowing right through her form-fitting armor, even though it doubled as a great bike jumpsuit, she was displeased with the inability to look good and stay warm. She wasn't alone out here, she knew that between the Museum of Glass and the Overlook was a haven for college dates, not much for the singles crowd, though. Beyond being by herself, her look in general was something unbecoming of the atmosphere, which made her stand out more.

A couple passed by on the walkway behind her, she caught a snippet of their conversation, discussing upcoming finals and the latest rad movie. Bug Hunter X: Now they're here for your women! ™ At least the bugs had the right idea this time, she could probably pirate the movie while she was waiting, but she could do that at her home in relative comfort, and more particularly, warmth. Now bored of the static form of the waterway, she turned her back to it, taking in the sights that AR had to offer of the Museum and the local gathering of bundled-up students. She stopped herself after reading half of the taken ladies' profile statistics.

Boring~.

The popular consensus was that they were straight-shooters and loved candle-lit dinners in Tahiti, not to mention they were nuts for nuts. She popped a cigarette in her mouth, inhaling sweet nicotine like it was better than oxygen, well, that was partly true in point of fact, all the more reason she wasn't quitting any time soon.

She looked over at the time display in the top corner of her field of vision.

Damn!

Tomoko was late as usual calling her; granted, Saint had only started doing a few runs with her but it was damn inconvenient to be kept waiting like this. She took another puff of her cigarette, taking a casual glance around the area to make sure no campus sec drones were nearby, or any officers for that matter. She wondered what kind of mischief she could get into while she was stuck waiting for her fixer.

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:37:04 : Stalingrad Range, near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive

This is a prime reason why I never trust beautiful people. They will do whatever they want every time including Becky yet I still trust her, weird.
Jack pondered why the attractive woman was so frantic, fired off a few rounds more, and decided that it might be worth it to investigate. Who knows? Maybe she could help think of a birthday present to give to Becky. Why must women be so confusing?

Jack pocketed the remaining ammo after loading up his gun. He put his gun back in his holster and opened up the door to look out. After remembering to take off noise canceling headphones and put them back on the rack he found at the range, there was some sort of event happening. When he flung the door open and tried to think of something as suave as he possibly could.

"Hey umm...lady? Where are you?

Jack looked around outside for a moment and decided his interactions with the fairer sex were usually awkward for whatever reason.

[Trigger]

@E:PL / Ælias
[June 27th, 2072; ShadowSEA Private Meeting Node, Seattle Matrix]

“I appreciate your concern for their safety. Yes, they are aware that they are to be extracted to Seattle and will come willingly, in fact I think they will be very glad to see you, Blackwater isn’t the nicest of places. The reason we are employing runners isn’t just to guard our charges against those hunting them. Blackwater is underground within the former containment zone. In fact it was a former hive before Ares fragged the place in fifty eight. But then, where better to hide a nascent technomancer movement? Or so we thought…we need to get them to a safe haven before the group is compromised.

Bug hive? What the frag am I getting myself into? I should walk from this, but it's unwired kids... why's it got to be kids?

There are the dangers of the lawless which go beyond what you might see in the barrens here in Seattle. Chicago is a changed place that has been abandoned by all but the desperate or the insane. They’ve always avoided the bug nests though. Bring them out, avoid any entanglements with the authorities and the gangs and keep them safe from the hunters…simple enough right?

Simple if you're sitting safe and sound in god damn Seattle. Simple on paper. Nothin's ever simple, it always goes to shit when they say that...

Here are the contact details of Copperhead and Dealer. I will leave it to you to decide with them how best to get your packages out of Chicago and back to Seattle. Dealer has smuggling connections but if for some reason you can’t use them then we can connect you with alternatives…but we’d prefer to keep our network out of this if we can to avoid any repercussions if things go badly in Chicago."

Ælias' icon sits silently for a moment, thinking, weighing the options, and thinking about all the horror stories of the CCZ he had heard on ShadowSea. But, it was still kids, and unwireds like himself. He knew what is like to be trapped somewhere.... Besides, Ares said they cleared the infestation, so it wasn't that bad, right?
"Sounds like a trek, but I am in, pending talk of nuyen and such. Bugs, three border crossings, bugs, Z-Zones, refugees, and more potential bugs. So, what's the take for such a run?"

[JxJxA]

@ E:PL
[May 5th, 2072; Marseilles, in a dark alleyway about 10 blocks from the Saphir de la Côte d'Azur]
[Erika Elite, ID "Maximilien Danton"]

Gemeaux frowns slightly when the priest turns down another dark alleyway. Following strangers---even Good Samaritans---into darkness takes an uncomfortably large amount of faith or foolishness. However, staying in the alley is not an option. He takes a last draw of his cigarette before expertly flicking it into puddle of blood, and moves to match the man's stride.

"There are a few different places here where we can sit and discuss business privately," he says. "There is a cafe nearby, La Baguette Fraîche, where the owner understands that his customers value discretion and privacy. Perhaps you know the place? I am open to others, if you know of a safer place."

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 22:50:12; E. 18th St., St. Paul Waterway Overlook]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford

She thought better of it, after all, this wouldn't feed the rush to test her programs. Most college kids didn't have the money to pop IC in their 'links, let alone a decent firewall. The only reason she'd come here was to feel that odd sensation of having been part of something, it felt all-together alien to her now. Phantom memories of people she'd known and fun times that were had, but they weren't from the present. She was a different person now. That, and sometimes you just listened to your gut when it told you things.

She pulled herself away from the railing, swiping up her bike helmet and backpack from the ground next to her. She slung the bag over her left arm, and tucked the helmet underneath the other as she plodded her way back up to the Museum of Glass' parking lot. Maybe she'd just take a ride around town before heading home for the night. Maybe she'd shack up with someone from campus, or she'd hack a Stuffer Shack and switch the PA system to Christmas time and have it play horribly out-of-season jingles at half-speed. Nothing like happy upbeat music with a satanic twist.

She came alongside her bike, taking a cursory look around to make sure no one was about to walk up on her. Campus' were safe... most of the time, never hurt to check. She was only worried because her Elan was in her backpack, and it wouldn't be an easy grab. On the other hand, this was Vory turf, and they had a habit of making quick examples of people working their turf without the go-ahead, strange that she felt safer on this side of town considering her past with the Vory, but she knew their way of doing things. There was comfort in familiar territory, even if her piece-meal memories told her that the feeling was a non-encrypted data file on an ultraviolet node. Not to be taken lightly.