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

[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.

[Notsoevildm]

@E:PL
[June 28th, 2072; Somewhere in Montana]

Copperhead sighed.

While the idea of a road trip had sounded like fun, after eight hours on the road reality and boredom were settling in. She was squeezed into the cab with the detached Dealer on one side and the leering beast that was their driver on the other. He stank of BO and seemed to spend more time staring at her breasts than watching the road. Except when he was jacked in, although even then his aura was almost purple with lust so she couldn't be sure if he was actually driving the 18-wheeler or jacking off to cyberporn.

She had tried practising some of the techniques the dwarf shaman had shown her, but that seemed to set off Dealer and just ended up giving her a headache anyway. Niether did the two breeders appreciate her taste in music, so she was forced to listen to her copy of the new 'Chainsaw Assassins' album on her earbuds. She had already listened to it three times and while she liked most of the tracks, some of tearing flesh sound effects on 'Chop Shop' left her feeling a little queasy.

She had even climbed in the back to try and take a nap, but the small, cramped space made it impossible for her to sleep and smelled even worse than the cab.

She sighed again.

"So. Either of you guys know much about Chicago? I heard dey dropped a nuke on it ta kill da bugs."

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 22:56:01; Museum of Glass Parking Lot]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford

As she got on her bike and checked to make sure nothing had been done to it, her AR lit up with the familiar glowing icon of Tomoko's radioactive spider on a teflon web, <<ヘイヘイ chica! Out hitting up the night-life are we? Well anyways, got something I need done if you are up for it. Let me know asap, usual drop-box is available for messages. Btw baby, I'd be chill over by Tacoma tonight. Got wind of some kind of hit by the yaks on some mid-level Vory manager, could be a lot of blood on the streets if that's true. Just keep your head clear. - Tomoko>>

Saint grins at the cliche mannerisms of the surprisingly socially awkward fixer, even if she is irritated by the reminder of the Vory. The Mirage roars to life with the most pleasurable sound and Saint pulls out of the parking lot, finally having decided to go play with the boys at the most popular night spot for Freshmen boys from UW, the steamy hot night-club Anima. As she races along pacific ave to the 405 Saint hears a massive explosion to the west, almost as if it came from the UW Tacoma campus 3 blocks over. Drek! That sounds like a fragging car-bomb! Hope those boys haven't started fighting on my old campus, won't get any tonight if all the little boys are scared to get it up... Assuming they haven't seen that tape...

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:37:14 Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive]

Jack's confusion gave way to prudent self-preservation as a grenade came whizzing through the Crimean and detonated right at the feet of men obviously belonging to the Vory security team. He hurled himself backwards, away from the doorway as, in quick succession automatic fire splintered the frame where he had been standing a second before.

The screams and cries, along with the staccato report of automatic weapons and pistol fire and the deep-throated roar of what Jack assumes to be the server's shotgun echo in the once quiet gambling den. He is not long by himself however as the shotgun blast is shortly followed by the server who had just left throwing herself back into the doorway to take cover on the left side of the wall, which now sported a good section of new ventilation from several decent caliber bullets.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

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

The assassin could almost be heard struggling with his obvious, and to be honest quite valid, trust issues with following such an unknown man of God, but eventually he catches up to Father Anselm just as Anselm makes the left hand turn towards the next block over.

"There are a few different places here where we can sit and discuss business privately," the man begins cautiously. "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."

Anselm nods but makes no other comment for the 1500 feet that this passage-way covers until they make the right hand turn for the street itself. He turns as he replaces the cowl deep over his face and pulls a business card out of his deep robe and hands it to Gemeaux. "I trust you to be good at what you do Mr. Danton. If you find you need a way out of the city and somewhere far from France and her problems.... contact this number or show up at the Air-en-Provence airfield. There is a small shipping concern located on the north corner of the airfield by the private use section. I will be there from 0800 to 1100 on the 19th. I need a good bodyguard on my business trip for an indefinite time whom I can trust to also do less savory work of God if needed. You will be adequately reimbursed for your time if that becomes the case I assure you, though I feel that simply getting you safely out of the country is payment enough for now no? Also, should you wish to make yourself available, it's a private flight, so bring what necessary tools you feel you might need for the task."

Bowing courteously, but not waiting for his reply the priest begins walking rapidly towards the priory, 4 blocks away.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:37:14 Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]

Everything seemed to slow down as Jackal fought to react to the surprising event. He had the presence of mind to realize that a grenade had just landed at his feet when the world went bright and he was blown back up onto the stairs he had just left. The world spun in his head as he fought to stay conscious, some part of his mind told him that things were really bad... he could feel a soft wet stickiness coming from his head and on his arm but he fortunately couldnt feel a thing yet as he watched muzzle flashes open up in the light drizzle outside like cherry blossoms in a soft evening sky. More impacts were felt as he attempted to half-throw himself, - half-crawl into the alcove that now had impromptu remodeling work done on it. It still offered the best cover available but was very much preforated.

The sounds of automatic weapons fire and shotgun blasts didn't help the ringing in his ears as he crawled over one of the Vory security team who was twitching in a pool of blood, his legs and a good chunk of his torso ripped off in the blast. Frag this is a bad day! First the Yakuza mage shows up on what's supposed to be a milk run and now this...

Once inside he manages to have the sense to channel mana into his body, hoping beyond hope that being a tiny bit quicker will help him fight off whatever or whoever is attacking outside. He quickly ties the threads to his sustaining tattoo praying that its integrity will hold a while longer.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:37:14 Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]

As Jackal looks out the newly aerated wall he sees the tides of battle turn as the security team, minus a few members quickly takes cover behind what Jackal can now see are armored craps tables. One of the customers seems to be especially irate that his game was ruined, as well as quick; before the shooters out side can react, the lithe ork dodges the incoming hailstorm of bullets and calmly puts a shot clean into the Asian spraying his gun randomly into the crimean, who promptly flips backwards over his bike and doesn't surface. The security team works their way into better vantage points and begins showing why you don't mess with the Russians. While one of them apparently calls someone on his commlink the russian mobster with the old-school smg returns fire, spraying the street-hot Hyundai which holds most of the assailants, from the cries which echo within and the sudden ceasefire from the vehicle Jackal barely has time to guess that the occupants are feeling less lucky before the other mobster, a large looking troll with an assault rifle of some sort launches a thank you note right on top of the assailants car. The grenades explosion flattens the entire roof of the car and makes mincemeat of the 2 other bikes involved in the attack.

As quickly as it occurred the violence ends with a few judicious executions for the occupants of the car.

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

Quickly, the reason why the Vory control these Tacoma streets becomes clear. Even before Knight Errant's sirens are heard in the distance, an old tow truck with some Russian business inscription on the side pulls up and carts the bikes and the car away. The fire department shows up, all good Russian speaking orks and Trolls who quickly douse the flames and declare the incident to be over.

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:37:30 Stalingrad Range near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive]

Jack quickly realized he wasn't an atheist in a two second moment while bullets were hitting the door he hid himself behind. He then looked over at the lady and bent down, making sure she wasn't injured. "Are you okay? Jack realized he had nothing to offer in the way of a first aid kit and looked around the range for one. Rushing back to her after finding some rudimentary bandages and a dusty bottle of antiseptic kept behind a counter, "What the hell was that?" She appeared to be fine for the most part.

Jack walked over and took another look outside, initially from behind the door, watching the cleaning crews go to work and thought about Hawke for a moment. "Was Hawke in there? And what do I call you anyway? " The perturbed look on the woman's face indicated that she was severely annoyed, whether that was at the myriad of questions being flung at her or being shot at was anyone's guess. "Or I could wait until you're ready to talk about it..." Careful man, she still has a shotgun.

Jack helped her stand up and support her as she regained her balance, more as a courtesy than her probably needing help. Jack drew his Predator out, just in case something else was still outside. "C'mon let's find out if Hawke is okay. Ermm...nice shotgun by the way" Jack bumbled around his words, feeling even more like an idiot for not even noticing the explosion that she had mentioned previously.

After a few more moments making sure the server was able to compose herself, Jack and the Russian vixen started making their way back to the place to check on Hawke.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:40:23 Stalingrad Range near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive]

As Jack and the server opened what was left of the door and walked into the gambling den proper, the sheer violence of the attack, not to mention the speed of events struck him as something from a slasher flick. The glass chandeliers by the bar were splintered, on the ground and in various wounded (or dead) customers, even the bar itself looked worse for wear with many many holes in it indicating that this had been a particular favorite new home for the man firing the sub-machine gun.

It appeared that one of the vory had either died or been seriously injured as to make no difference, as both he and his parts were being carried out in a respectful manner by one of the servers, who was trying very hard not to cry as she gently laid him on a stretcher. There was a stout sullen man attempting to stanch the flow of blood though so maybe things would turn out better after all.

The fire department had already shown up, Jack noted with some relief, though they seemed to take the incident in their stride, not even batting an eye, nor turning to extinguish the fire in the car until the wrecker pulled up to cart it away... Hmm guess the rumors are true, Knight Errant hasn't even shown up yet, these guys really do run this town...

Momentarily distracted by the scene of carnage and mayhem, Jack was brought back to his senses as a familiar figure came down the stairs and spoke quickly but quietly to an abnormally tall Troll who's body armor and clothing was awash in blood, though it looked like the medics had taken care of him and his bleeding for the moment. Hawke was, as far as Jack could tell, totally unscathed by the event, and moreover, eerily calm for just having been in a building which moments before had seen a re-enactment out of some of those old flat screen video games Jack used to play while in the Horizon middle school.

Hawke caught Jack's eye and nodded, smiling briefly before turning to one of the other Vory members close to him and letting loose a staccato of quicksilver Russian too fast to hear.

The server, who Jack had attempted to chat up so unsatisfactorily, turned and finally gave Jack a mocking look. "Well... it seems you do need to learn to shoot. Hiding wouldn't have done you much good if those Yaks had been able to get in here better than they did. I'll talk to Alina and see if she can't sort you out abit. But you will owe me kid... and I'll take that thousand up front."

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 22:57:21; Pacific Ave.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

She wanted to check it out, if only to gloat at the misfortunes of the Vory, if this was tied to them. Tomoko's message cleared from her overlay after a couple seconds, her PAN recognizing that she was behind the wheel, and therefore too preoccupied to close it out. There were already AR screens popping up that prompted detour routes, but she knew where she was headed. Following the smoke, and taking back roads was the easy part. Maybe she could even beat any CJ's to the scene and get a few nuyen for the footage. She veered off to the left onto S. 21 St. A right onto Jefferson, and finally a left onto S. 19th St.

She'd have to keep off to the edges, shadows stayed in the shadows. No doubt there would be Knight Errant on tap tonight, and she needed to keep some distance. Once she arrived at the scene, she made sure to park as legally as possible, taking her key out of the ignition as the steady purr of her Suzuki Mirage's engine died out with it's egress.

She opened a window in her AR that revitalized Tomoko's message, sending a reply in-kind. Her AR gloves allowing her to tap on a newly-formed keyboard out in front her, fingers blazing away.

<<@Tomoko: You know me, sugar dumpling, ever the enthusiastic and helpful member of society. A car bomb just went off near here, I don't think things are quieting down as soon as expected. I'll let you know if find anything worthwhile, otherwise, expect a line soon. [Saint]>>

She surveyed her surroundings, having parked half-a-block down so that she could walk up to the scene. She made sure to note where and if there was surveillance or any KE activity.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 22:59:56; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

Unfortunately, she found that prudence had guarded her actions a bit too much as she spotted a large amount of KE off to her left once she got back to Jefferson Ave. About 150 meters down the street, almost to where broadway merged into Jefferson, there was a large mass of KE citymasters and ambulances swarming around a large amount of flames. It did appear however that only 1 scooper had made it to the scene just a few seconds before, as Saint saw a hurried looking elf with an old KCRA jacket on running down to get closer to the action. She'd know that sleezy fake platinum hair anywhere... Jessica, an ex-street walker who went by the name of Crabby Callie at least to all her clientele, was as dirty as they got. She'd sell her own mother, if she had had one, and if the price had been right.

I wonder what that slitch is doing here... A thought occurred to Saint, that maybe she could make this work out to her benefit while she dealt with other more interesting past-times, Couldn't hurt to see if her PAN's secured now would it? Saint continued mulling the idea over in her head as she walked towards the blaze.