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

[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.

[SoyKaf Adict]

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

She couldn't resist. KE everywhere, her target right there none-the-wiser. It was like having sex in public, but a great deal more secluded, and less messy. Good thing she had her helmet on, no photo identification beyond her suit, as she was sure the KE fellas were just as interested in recording the scene. She added a new window to her AR displaying a muted view of the Matrix before her and her icon inset within, she'd be at meat speeds, but it was slightly more inconspicuous than falling over in the middle of the street. That and some people just deserved this kind of attention, not the least of all being the woman who stood just before her, trying to get as close to the ARO just erected of a circling police line with scrolling text. "DO NOT CROSS! Knight Errant Crime Scene! Please Back Away."

She opened up her list of programs, using her hidden commlink as opposed to the knock off one she kept in plain view on her hip. The other was firmly attached to the small of her back and she knew that she'd have to keep this discreet. Unfortunately for her, her commlink wasn't bleeding edge tech, the most she could manage without bogging down her protocols were 4 programs.

She began by running her Stealth program off the bat, dragging it onto the Run Mode side bar in her field of vision. Next she passively scanned the area for Jessica's wireless node. Forget recording this, don't want a unwanted trail leading back to me. Another time perhaps. Or~ who says I have to record at all? She kept her sniffer program in mind.

This promised to be fun.

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:43:10 Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

"Who's Alina and who are you? And who said anything about a thousand? I said 500, I have a game I need to buy into." Jack held out a wad of cash totaling 500 cred.

Jack observed the goings on around the bar. The first time he had seen carnage like this was a month ago, when he found his and Becky's father and mother murdered. Now this is a cluster. Jack holstered the Predator, it seemed as though nothing was happening immediately. Jack took another look at Hawke and wondered what he had gotten himself into when he first walked into Hawke's establishment.

"Lead on, no time like the present."

Jack sent a quick personal message to Becky on his other link. He had no hope of response any time soon as he knew how important the night life was for her. Hope you're having fun, it's been an interesting night. I'll catch up with you later.

Jack followed the shotgun wielding server. I'll need another drink after this, it's going to be a long night.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:00:18; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

Or at least she thought it would be fun, all she got for her trouble was that Jessica's PAN was nowhere to be found. Probably hidden for all she knew, but that didn't help the fact that while frantically searching she'd barked up the wrong tree. She'd accidentally spiked on one of the Knight Errant's commlinks. A particularly chubby one as a matter of fact, when he looked over at least he had the common courtesy to stare at her biker's helmet for a nano-second before eyeing the goods. She could already feel his grubby hands all over her. Other officer's started looking at her, it was a good thing she didn't stand out. Oh wait, she was one of two people and she would be far more interesting to interrogate than Jessica... Or would she be? She had to think fast. Saint lost the demure stature and adopted one of a fan girl geeking out, she attempted to raise her voice a little as a finishing touch, not to mention taking a deep breath so she could spit out words a mile-a-minute like she needed to. And~ scene.

"Oooh, damn, I didn't want to bother you because you're on the scoop. But aren't you Jessica? That famous news sleuth? I tried to find your PAN so I could slip you a message, but it must be hidden or something. Haha, I'm not really good at this. It must be a PRETTY important story if you're here!"

As gushy as she sounded, her mind was revolted that she'd have stooped so low. The shoe was on the other foot now, but she could play hopscotch with the best of them. She made sure to put on a show for the cops too, adding a cup size when she balled up her fists and brought her elbows in. Made for a nice accentuating touch of squishing the unmentionables together. One working girl to another, at least Saint had the element of surprise and anonymity to her advantage. She still had her helmet on, but what fan-girl thinks about last minute details?

[JxJxA]

@ E:PL
[May 19th, 2072; Marseilles, in a dark alleyway about 10 blocks from the Saphir de la Côte d'Azur]
[Erika Elite, ID "Maximilien Danton"]

Gemeaux looks over the business card and then watches the enigmatic priest walk away. He chuckles to himself, pocketing the card, and lighting another cigarette. He nonchalantly leans against a wall in the alleyway, and gives himself a moment to savor the remnants of the adrenaline rush from the firefight. He counts himself lucky---eight versus one were slim odds, especially when one of the eight was a mage. Whether his luck is chance or contrived has yet to be determined.

It all seems too convenient... However, I do need something to occupy myself while taking a vacation from Marseilles. This could prove interesting.

<<[Gemeaux]: Vivienne?>>

<<[Vivienne]: Yes, Damien?>>

<<[Gemeaux]: Send this to Lianne, and then pull whatever you can find on the Air-en-Provence airfield. I'll be traveling with my wetwork gear, and I would prefer to take a route that avoids corporate gendarmes.>>

<<[Vivienne]: Understood. I take it this means no more Marseilles?>>

<<[Gemeaux]: For a little while, at least. I plan to return, though. There is something about this city that makes it feel like home.>>

[Trigger]

@ E:PL
[June 28th, 2072, 11:51 AM; Ælias' Apartment, Auburn, Seattle]

Ælias' body lay sprawled out on his couch again, looking almost passed out drunk, although the furrows and sweat on his brow would point towards a more cognizant mental state. In VR Ælias' mind was in a much different place, locked in contest with a Crack sprite, a more powerful one than he was used to actually. It had come to his call easily enough, a digital shadow of constantly rewriting data, of false commands and exploited passwords, but when he tried to register it to himself, well, then it seemed to get mad. Locked in a mental engagement with the sprite, it gained upper hand of the melding. It chased him through his mind, seemed to tear through his memories; it went on and on. It seemed to go on forever.

[June 28th, 2072, 5:52 PM; Ælias' Apartment, Auburn, Seattle]

He sat up with a start, vomiting blood from his throat and stomach, pooled there from the leaks coming from his nose, eyes, and ears. His eyes were veined in red, and his body shook with pain and shock. Barely conscious and cognizant, Ælias rolled off his now green and dark rusty red splattered couch and crawled across the studio to his restroom, leaving bloody handprints and drips across the floor as he crawled. The shower rinsed him clean and made him all the more painfully aware of the ache in his head that radiated out into the rest of his meat.

He rummaged through the small bathroom, pulling out a medkit he kept stored in the house for a time such as this. He followed the AR instructions, which mainly had him take painkillers for his head and muscle pain, and decided that he should probably take a nap. A long nap.

Ælias staggered back into the main living area of the studio, trying not to pay attention to the mess he had left everywhere, that was what the CHN drones were for. He pinged the CHN to get the drones started on the living space, and then noticed the shadow still hovering in the 'Trix space of the house, the Crack sprite still waiting there, still tied to Ælias by tasks owed. It had nearly killed him, it had taken control of their link and used it to hurt him, but he could not bring himself to blame the sprite. It was like him, a digital shadow, trying to hide in plain sight in the 'Trix, and he knew that he wouldn't have taken it very well if someone had tried to bind him, no matter what their intentions.

<Be free. You owe me no more tasks.>

[July 1st, 2072, 3:00 PM; Ælias' Apartment, Auburn, Seattle]

The time seemed to both stretch out and condense across the three days Ælias stayed home, in bed, recovering from the trashing the sprite gave him. Someone came through on the simrig for him, VectΩr actually, and he started browsing the schematics and coding of it in the few hours during the day that he was awake. At some point on the second day a message arrived to his personal node, nudging him out of a painkiller induced stupor.

<<You okay bro? None of us heard from you in days. I found that name for you, I posted on the board, but I figured this might be more likely to connect with you if are avoiding tradtional channels or somethin'. Log on when you get a chance, let people know you live and shit. Peace, ~Brer Fox [Attachment:: SIN: Walter Simmons]>>

Ælias gave a mental thank you, a quick message back, dropped the SIN in harddrive, and then passed out for another handful of hours.

It wasn't until midday on the 1st that he finally got to his feet without a twinge in his brain or a tremor along his spine. Everything seemed to get much better after another night of sleep. He felt like he might actually be able to make the day without a nap, so that had to be a good thing. Now it was time to get started on that simrig, he only had a few days til the flight to Chicago, and he wanted this done before then. He wanted a record of what he was going to do, of what he might see, of evidence he could get out to the other Refugees in case this all went south.

[AppliedCheese]

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

Dealer eyed the road with what he hoped passed for professional alertness. Really, the chances that anything would happen to this load of beetles was pretty low. Exceedingly low actually, since all the proper bribes had been paid in advance. Between that and a long drive with infrequent breaks for Kaf and urination, even the very best would be below their edge.

Not a drone of course, which was why the microcams were running constant comparisons of relatively unconstant traffic through the truck's hardwired node. Comparatively, drones did not possess a sixth sense, nor did they respond particularly well to circumstances outside their programming. And you simply couldn't rig every truck running legit or illicit goods with its own rigger. Hence the practice of "shotgun" continued, boring as it was.

When Copper finally spoke after an hour of listening to what sounded like someone beating a steel drum - funny how people automatically assumed that even on "armageddon loud" the mere fact it was over a headphone meant no one else could hear - it was at least something to do other than stare out at the passing fields in case one of them had a highly unlikely truck jacker waiting in it.

"Chicago? Not a whole lot. Major city till Ares nuked the drek out of it back in the 50's. Good job on them for doing it to. Bunch of insect spirits were taking it over, probably with a bunch of mages cackling over how it would be a great research project and tell them oh so much about the astral. Well, the spirits got a little out of control, and I guess those mages who thought they were brilliant found out they weren't about the time some exoskeletoned legs punched through their chests...Ares said frag this, sent in firewatch, and blew the whole place to hell.

Real firewatch mind you, not the bull drek second string public ops stuff we saw with Toxic. The actual hardcore, the ones they don't waste on one or two guys in a hotel.

Anyhow, the city is pretty much a containment zone, pretty feral, post-apoclayptic, btu i understand a community of sorts operates around the edges. Not exactly prosperous, but doing ok for itself off the Corp research facilities in the area. Kind of like a military town, scaled back. Outside is like a wierd mix of the veyr old west, cutting edge corp facs, and a barter town. Inside is...well..a nuked city with drek running wild."

[Ears]

Tourist
<<Seattle, Redmond, 12th April 2072>>

Adrian opens his eyes.
A glance, everything's clear, he exits the cave. Left and right are figures
just like him, a raiding party in the night.
Something over to the far right seems to interesting. Their leader runs ahead,
they follow.
One of his mates jerkes his head around, did he hear something?
Whatever it was, it seems to belong to a huge spear suddenly descending from
the sky to hit his mate and, flying back up, taking the still twitching body
with it. He turns, running, looking around, wasn't there a nice hole
nearby? With a jerk he stops, his head still swinging around. As his vision
dims, he can see the ground receding below him.

Adrian opens his eyes - his own eyes - and looks around. A group of ork kids are
cheering. All of them have long metal spikes, some of which hold dead rats.

Death for some, dinner for others.

"Point of view", he says to nobody in particular.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:01:07; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman


Saint's cleavage filled fangirl threw Jessica off and handily kept the interest of the watching KE boys to a pedophile type nature. The ex-street walker began to become visibly nervous as the porcine officer began to walk over, looking at both girls with equally sinister intent written on his face, perhaps anticipating the chance to get a "double feature" out of his trouble. If Saint began to slow her pace and become rather nervous it was nothing to Jessica's look of near hysteria plastered on her face. She turned and fled back to 19th St. As she ran the Knight Errant officer changed entirely in his demeanor as he moved exceptional fast for such a fat man and ran after her while he yelled over the radio for back up with a suspicious girl wearing a black jacket heading to South 19th St with no advertised PAN.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast/ Adrian
[Seattle, Tacoma, South 19th St., In a Combat Cab April 17th 2072 23:06:42]


58. Yathā saṅkāradhānasmiṃ
ujjhitasmiṃ mahāpathe
Padumaṃ tattha jāyetha
sucigandhaṃ manoramaṃ.

59. Evaṃ saṅkārabhūtesu
andhabhūte puthujjane
Atirocati paññāya
sammāsambuddhasāvako.

Adrian restored himself with Tara's mantra as he sought fulfillment from his daily grind. He had managed to pick up a small time ferrying job with the Tacoma branch of "Combat Cab" as his mediocre driving skills, combined with his small talents in magic and lack of familial connections made for a perfect cost effective cabby in the rougher parts of town. He did not really like it so much but it was a way to tour around some of the more interesting parts of Seattle with an excuse to wear armor that would normally get him looked at by Knight Errant.

I also get to meet one large amount of people that remind me of mom and dad.... drek, maybe they were even in my cab. It was in essence, a compromise in Adrian's mind; he could see what he wanted and get in contact with people that really saw the world for what it was, but it also didn't push his Uncle over the line into the "why are you wasting your life zone". That said tonight had been an interesting night; more interesting than usual anyways, drop off this wierded out woman who looked like a used-up street walker, the explosion a block over maybe 10 minutes after and being told to wait here... just plain odd.

So, like any good Buddhist, he waited and sought to instill vibrations in the cab that would ease his night and help him learn where the wheel would take him.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:44:00 Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]


The server didn't move but glared up at him as she fingered her shotgun. Drek! I gotta remember that thing about women and shotguns.... they just don't mix... "Niet! 1k nuyen or you find your own teacher!" The irate Russian female stood her ground firmly, perhaps it was the stress from being shot at, perhaps it was her failure to seduce him, either way, Jack got the idea that this was going nowhere fast.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:01:07; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

Saint watched as Jessica fled from the scene. The hacker had forgotten her focus in coming here, but things were getting a bit too bright for her to stick around.

"I just wanted your auto-sig!" She pouted in response to the CJ's quick exit.

She looked dejectedly at the scene of the bombing, it was a casual glance for her, if she stuck around she was the only thing these guys had to stare at. It wasn't a good idea to keep them from their work. No way this tidbit was worth THAT much to her. She continued playing the dejected look, having to physically sag her head and shoulders as her audience couldn't see her face. Wolves had to chase, it was their way if you ran. She took a slow walk back to her Suzuki.

She smiled behind her helmet, revving the engine back up to a strong purr.

"Oh, Suzuki, you're the one who can cheer me up after being spurned like that." She spoke in mock sadness. She'd cut it too close, but her adrenaline was going and that's was an unexpectedly positive side-effect. Saint wanted to hit up that dropbox, but it was too crowded here. She u-turned back the way she'd came on E. 19th, the same way Jessica had run. She kept an eye out for how far the elf had gotten down the road. A good fangirl always pursues her prey with the utmost diligence.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:01:37; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

However, the sudden impact of the shockwave which knocked her off her bike a few seconds later, before she could make it up to E. 19th knocked the breath out of her. She had just glimpsed Jessica turn towards the pursuing cops and raise her hands in the air. That was it, and then the blast. Frag this is a bad day! Saint had to wait a few seconds to regain her composure and stop sucking wind before she could take stock of what on earth had happened. She thought that the explosion had come from Jessica, but there was no way that could happen; to her knowledge Jessica wasn't magical in nature.

Saint gingerly regained her seating on her bike and surveyed the devastation around her, cars over turned, thick black smoke roiling down the street concealed most of the scene from view but she could make out a crater where Jessica had been standing moments before, along with the wreckage of the pursuit drones which had cornered her.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:01:49; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

She checked her body, no holes, just a horrible bump on the head... No worse than jacking out of Matrix in a mad panic, even though it still hurt like a slitch. She was still fuzzy, her mind attempting to process the moment's actions. A million questions logging through her brains data stream, too fast to answer. Luckily she'd been wearing a helmet!

Could she have been a mage? Was there an ulterior motive to keeping her commlink in hidden mode? Had some kind of mage bedazzled her with their powers and turned her into a living plastic explosive?

The last one made her chuckle, putting in detail just how jarring that blow to the head was, but not for long as she realized that the KE fellas would be soon investigating this scene as well. You've got to be kidding! I was perfectly fine being on the sidelines, now I'm a part of it. Too much so. She was at a loss for how she could benefit from the situation, what with her luck running so crumby at the moment, she could hardly keep up with the need for on-the-spot thinking. A mild concussion not withstanding. Worse than even the throbbing in her head, it bugged her how many questions she had with absolutely no answer. Ever since she'd had her boosters installed, it was like she craved puzzles and trivia. This, above all, had piqued her curiosity.

[JxJxA]

@ E:PL
[May 5th, 2072, 08:05:45; Aire-en-Provence Airfield]
[Erika Elite, ID "Maximilien Danton"]

Gemeaux nonchalantly walks towards the private flight with a pair of large suitcases in tow. He is dressed comfortably for a mild, May morning, with a pair of slick sunglasses to shield his eyes from the new day's light. The outfit---a light jacket over a buttoned shirt and khaki slacks---gives him the appearance of a casual tourist while allowing him to hide his true "business wear"---his sidearm of choice, form-fitting full body armor half-suit, and his PAN-linked contact lenses. His heavier wetwork equipment is hidden in the suitcase---a customized sniper rifle, a customized assault rifle, and various ammunition, grenades. Normally, he would be loathe to travel with so much equipment, but he needs to take a sojourn from Southern France given the recent proliferation of "clone hunters," and this promises to be the most amusing avenue with which to do so.

When he sees the priest, he walks up to him and flashes a suave smile.

"So, I am here. Where and when do we begin?"

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:44:12 Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

As if women aren't persuasive enough, we have to bring guns into the mix. Jack had no fear of women and guns, it was more of the distracting nature of two of his favorite things causing blood flow to increase from one head...to the other.

"Fine." It seemed to be all Jack could muster at the moment. He wasn't about to start bargaining with her. He no longer carried a chocolate bar with him, Becky had relieved him of that several days ago and he didn't have his backpack with him where he stored various goodies. Jack produced two poker chips worth 250 each in addition to the hard cred he still had in his hand. "Half now, half later. You want the chips or the cred?" As the question had been asked Jack started walking back to the range.

Jack smiled because of all the extra rounds he had pocketed earlier would come into play now. This could be interesting.