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

[Aria]

Balefire / Silk
[May 03rd, 2072; Silk’s Apartment - Madison Street & 11th Ave, University District, Seattle]

Silk approached her apartment by a different route as usual, carefully planned to avoid any kind of pattern. Although Sees criticised her paranoia she had no intention of bringing any heat down on herself that she could possibly avoid. The shift hadn’t been particularly difficult and she felt light and buoyant, a sharp contrast with her life just a few short months ago. She had a three successful runs under her belt now, and another that was at least a partial success, and her handle was beginning to get noticed in a quiet and unassuming way. Which was how she liked it…after all, what was the point of an infiltrator with a loud reputation?

Logging on to the apartment node she checked the cameras for any sign of an intrusion. She knew it wouldn’t protect her from a professional team but it might just give her sufficient warning if her magic detected a pattern out of place. As a final precaution she reached into the satchel at her side and flung the little fly-spy into the air. With a soft whine the drone flew into the entrance hall and up the fire stairs using the vent grills that Silk had long ago removed (and the caretaker had never bothered to replace) to skip around the fire doors.

Finally satisfied that her precautionary checks had been completed she made her way inside, up the stairs rather than restricting herself in the lift. All in all it had added minutes to her journey home but the peace of mind was infinitely more important.

Inside her door she took a final moment to stretch out her senses and take in the patterns of her home…analysing the space for any tell tales…it seemed she really was alone at last. Engaging the locks and trembler switch behind her she flung her satchel onto the sofa and retrieved the fly-spy from its hover to plug it into its charger. The apartment node responded by her presence by shifting the wall displays to a stunning view of Downtown taken from the top of the Space Needle. A soft voice welcomed her home and told her that the soykaf was waiting…Silk grimaced slightly, she kept meaning to change that setting, after several hours working her skin smelt of coffee and the last thing she wanted was more…at least a quick shower would solve that.

After completing her ablutions she was ready to sit down and surf the various matrix feeds that her agents had been gathering while she had been absent. The Citadel was beckoning too but work needed to come before play.

Then her comm routed her a message through one of the blind proxies that she used…damn him, her mood sunk, too many memories, she’d told him before…

<<@Silk: We need to meet and talk through my proposal. Between us we have the skillsets and connections to make a success of this. There is power in names and Balefire has a past that is worth capitalising on. That is without considering the chance to draw them out. Bale>>

<<@Bale: And I told you that I will think about it…>>

Balefire / Bale
[May 03rd, 2072; SE 200th Street, Renton, Seattle]

Stubborn bitch, he thought to himself…just like her bloody mother when he’d met her. Couldn’t she see the benefits of re-establishing the group name? It would be as if they had never been destroyed and it might well draw out the people who had been responsible. It would even be a good idea to take over the old fire station that had served as the Balefire base of operations – granted, Silk really wouldn’t want to go back to where she’d found her mother dead but still, if they gave it the illusion of use it was one more honey baited trap for whoever the murdering scum was who had taken out his brother.

He could do it on his own but he needed Silk’s shadow connections here and despite himself he trusted that the daughter would be as competent as the mother and Bale had always been complimentary of her skills - which was telling given how hard it was to elicit praise from his big brother…

Bale dropped the commlink on to the worktop beside him. He would just have to trust that she would see the sense of what he was saying. It was pointless in pushing it any further, she would come to him if she wanted to. He smiled and nodded to Helen as she came into the room with a squirming boy on her hip. Putting on his best Cockney accent for the little tyke he said

“Orr rite me old mucker, and ’elen. Ows skool? Let’s ave a butchers at ya…ya growin up bleedin fast…”

The boy giggled and ran off down the corridor to his room. Helen rubbed her back and then flopped down onto the sofa in the small apartment, smaller now with the three of them living there. He’d moved them out of their place as soon as he’d arrived stateside, there was no point in making them any more of a target – that was something he was reserving for himself!

Balefire / Requiem
[May 04th, 2072; Silk Dragon Dojo, Redmond Way, Touristville, Seattle]

Requiem wiped the sweat off his face and tossed the towel back onto the bench for the cleaning drone to retrieve. Behind him he could hear Jitan brow beating one of the more recalcitrant pupils and he winced as his voice dropped into the vicious whisper that meant there was true anger involved. Personally he preferred a calm approach but the dojo belonged to Jitan and by the sounds of it he was reaching the end of his tether. The pupil wouldn’t last long…some street trash were beyond redeeming and this one was a particularly arrogant and violent breed of ganger representing the worst of his kind.

Stretching out the kinks in his muscles he tried to ignore the ticks that ran down his right arm as the nanites desperately tried to keep his wires in check. One of these days, he promised himself yet again, he would get the whole lot stripped out and a modern equivalent installed…it was just the thought of all that surgery and then the recuperation time that filled him with horror…he wasn’t on company time now with the pay cheques rolling in no matter what state he was in!

As he retrieved his ‘link from his locker, preferring not to have any distractions when teaching, he noted with interest that the message icon was blinking with the flag attached to Silk. After their split they had been amicable but hardly sought each other out. Well no point in musing what she was going to say before reading it, and he opened the message, interesting!…

<<@ Requiem: A and another have approached me with a view to starting up the team again. We could do with your skillset to round out the roster. I’ve been persuaded to dust off the equipment stores from the old team so we’ll have a ready-made advantage.>>

Well, he’d never considered that she would be pulled back into this again. He knew that she was still searching for answers about her mother’s death and that she had begun running the shadows herself…but to try and resurrect Balefire? He only knew of their reputation and what little Silk had told him, but they had been a class act back in the day. Most people in the shadows will have already forgotten about them, however, it was nearly two years after all…so why not start from fresh? Well, it would be worth a meeting to find out at least, particularly if Argent was involved, he owed her too…

Balefire / Sirene
[May 06th, 2072; Oakfarm Estate, North Bellevue, Seattle]

As she stepped from the car she thanked David and walking towards the house, only dropping her disguise once he was out of sight. Her pretence to be Ember would have to continue for now until he could safely return to France, but there was no need to rub his family’s faces in his death or his impossible return. As a spirit there was no real need for the mundane transportation but she found the journey settled her and gave her an appreciation of the limitations (and achievements) of the mortal kind.

As she walked up the drive through the trees she allowed the gentle drizzle to flow through her and purify her thoughts. The water was marginally cleaner out here than nearer the urban cores but it still smelt of heavy metals and the other toxins that were pumped into it on an hourly basis.

From inside she could hear the muted sound of children playing. They had been more resilient to the loss of their father than might have been expected, perhaps she helped with that? A last piece of him for them to hang onto? She knew their mother worried about them but took much needed solace in their strength too. They were Celts, their strength was in their blood, despite any intermingling with the pampered aristocracy. They had rejected their Grandfather’s advances, Argent was still at a loss as to how he had seen through their pretence and knew that Ember was dead. All ties with that side of the family had died with their father and Sirene knew that she would fight to help them keep their independence. She had seen enough in Argent’s mind to know the traps that lay along that path…

She stepped over the threshold with the familiar tingle of passing through an aspected ward. They would leave again shortly to meet up with the beginnings of the Balefire team. She had already bonded with Silk and Bale back when she had recently achieved consciousness. Both had lost a key figure in their lives and she had welcomed the chance to experience their pain and set it against what she felt from Argent and her family. Perhaps this other, this Requiem would also be a suitable candidate for the Pact…?

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:06:42; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

If she got too close to the explosion she'd be considered a suspect, if she stayed she'd be in for some particular questions. But Saint wanted to know what happened here. KE be damned, this was some weird mojo that just got spread thick on reality's soy toast. She mentally kicked in her radar visualizer, hoping that it'd give her some depth perception past the smoke.

She checked the area for any sign of Jessica, or as it was best to perhaps generalize that statement, any piece of her left that might've survived the blast.

[sabs]

freΣdom
[April 15th, 2072 22:31; Somewhere in Touristville]

Fractal nodded. "I'll look into it. I got to say though, first impression is.. that the scene looks posed." Fractal is already running some analysis software on the data collected, to see what he can pull from it. "I'll be in touch." He nods to the Old Man, "Come on Sammy.. Time to get some work done." With that he turns to leave. there was no reason to let the Old Man's emotions muddy things. He started going through his files, looking for information on Summer.

Fractal spendt the next hour going over the crime scene with a fine tooth comb, Sammy in tow. "Tell me what happened, just the way you remember it." He had his recording devices running, to be sure he didn't miss a single detail.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:46:30 Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

The server's mood lightened slightly as she hurriedly snatched the hard cred out of Jack's hand, "Chips later, they take 30% off the chips we collect in tips for the night." She walked Jack back to the gun range and fondly placed her shotgun back in the case where it had been stored and then continued down the hall and took a dogleg right to an old janitor's closet. She banged on the door and fired off a quickfire burst of russian. A muffled scraping behind the closet door preceded an aging only geriatric lady who could not have looked more out of place.

The would-be candidate for the rest home olympics, complete with fairly badly tucked in Depends showing under her flowery night shirt, looked skeptically at Jack and shot an equally fast aside to the server. "She wants to know what you can do for her in return. Money she has, and doesn't need, what makes you think you are good enough for her to train you."

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:07:15; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman


The grainy image that gradually cleared up on the screen in classic television black and white clarity showed a very large amount of devastation as the corner building that had taken the brunt of the blast was now something from those old-school world war flat screen vids. Fire crews and emergency personnel rushed past her, not even going through the usual suspects type behavior in their haste to rescue what remained of the crime scene and those people still able to draw breath except to ask her to leave the scene.

Saint carefully recorded everything she could see to her commlink, Well at least this is one for the news-hounds. I might cash in yet.
She had a sudden inspiration and, even though her left cybereye was reporting 62% operational integrity and offering to call in and have an appointment for regularly scheduled maintenance set up, managed to view the microseconds that her eyes had captured before she was thrown from her bike. Ok this just keeps getting weirder and weirder Saint paused as she watched the video unfold in slow motion in her AR as the street-walker turned with a terrified but determined look on her face as the drones prepared to cuff her. The next frame showed her head exploding in a shower of gore and hot white impulse, much like Saint had seen on the trid-coverage about terrorists using cranial bombs to target unsuspecting and heavily secured targets.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:07:15; S 19th St., In a Combat Cab April]

The blast however, had totally disrupted Adrian's ability to focus and his normally soothing mantra failed him entirely. He had just had the chance to glimpse his passenger running hurriedly around the corner with KE drones in hot pursuit before the explosion had shattered his windshield and sent huge chunks of building flying. Not a good day for zen, no matter which way you slice it. Adrian, for the first time in his wandering, regretted picking up the combat cab job as not having suitable death benefits, or more to the point, life benefits.

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:47:54 Stalingrad Range near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

Jack began looking around for candid cameras after seeing the aged fossil he apparently paid to be introduced to. Seriously...I think I'm getting punked here. I just shelled out how much cred for this? "Sorry to have bothered you ma'am I'll let you get back to whatever it is you were doing."

Jack started slowly walking away strongly considering some choice words to say to Hawke about his choice of associates. Jack paused for a moment realizing that anything that he could say to Hawke might be deemed as offensive which would not be good, especially since Hawke knew all the gambling tournament locations that were coming up. He looked at the server with a renewed purpose. "Won't you be so kind as to introduce us, many of my friends call me Wild Card. I would be happy if we all could be friends." Jack stared directly at the server partially saddened and partially relieved she no longer had the shotgun.

"What does she want done?" Jack reminded himself to talk with Hawke later, and find out the truth from him then.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:07:15; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

Saint reflexively willed herself not to vomit. Exploding grey matter wasn't her thing, especially with what she did for a living. A chill went up her spine, what kind of a sticky mess would've resulted if she HAD hacked into Jessica's 'link? Would she have triggered the cranial bomb at close range? A new surge of questions came about, enough for her to ignore all the crime scene techs' attempts at shooing her away. All bad things happen for a reason, or at least she hoped so as a long-since unsaid prayer escaped her lips to whatever deity was listening.

The damage was bad, even a cab had been hit by the blast. Talk about luck, or lack thereof. There was something different about that cab, something off, but her eye kept messing with the fine details. She shut the malfunctioning eye for the moment, as she brought an AR display to refuse the request for service. She could just hit up Doc Roe, if he wasn't busy this time of night. She was just happy to be alive after the case, and besides, maintenance was cheap and it would be a good way to catch up with an old friend.

Driving would be interesting with partial depth perception, oh how one notices the subtleties of useful items after they've gone, or when they rendered her personal image as something similar to a novacoke addict in withdrawal.

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:08; S 19th St., In a Combat Cab]
Eys closed, Adrian sits frozen behind the wheel.
Her head, her head, her head, ...Breathe in, breathe out. Ok. But her head! Snap out of it!
Frak!
Good thing Marcus can't hear me. Right, what would he say? Probably something like "When was the last time ignoring reality did any good?" Gotta open my eyes someday anyway. Ah well...
Blinking his eyes, Adrian looks around cautiously.
Seven minutes left on the clock. Seven? Wasn't it 12 just a second ago? Getting bombed ain't good for my sense of time, it seems. So what's next? Am I hurt? Nope. Anybody else?
Near the site of the explosion, Adrian sees a woman who seems to have problems with her eyes.

I don't wanna go there.

Adrian gets ot of his cab, tries not to think of where some of the things now embedded into the windshield might have come from and shakily takes a few tentative steps toward Saint. Hoi there, you ah, you OK? Urk! Clasping his hands over his mouth, Adrian obviously has to fight the urge to vomit. A battle he just so wins. For now. Uh, hey, if you need to sit down for a moment, you can do so in my cab. Won't bill you. I'll need a moment or a few hundred before I can drive again, anyway. After seeing... this Adrian turns around and walks briskly back to his cab, fleeing inside.

Adrian starts rummaging around, looking for the medkit every cab supposedly carries, busying his mind - and eyes - with something other than the carnage outside.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:10:23; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

She'd never been propositioned like that before, least of all, to go back toward a taxi that was closer to a blast zone than she already wanted to be. Considering she didn't know the man for longer than an awkward split-second, she couldn't really take it any other way. But a kindness was a kindness, if there was another explosion, best to be inside an armored car, she wondered how he'd managed to keep the crime scene snoops from ushering him off the scene as well.

Saint made sure she had her key on her, backpack still firmly in place, her commlink safely underneath that. She had trouble walking straight, but managed to get to the passenger-side door with some semblance of dignity. She placed her helmet and backpack in the back seat, while sliding into the comfort of the seat across from Adrian.

"Great night to be driving, yeah?" More than a little sarcasm dripping out of her comment, most of her focus was in AR, taking a diagnostic of both of her commlinks. Her explosion of white hair engulfed the headrest, disappearing beneath it. She had also forgotten to tone down the dynamics of her chest as well. Something, at any other time, she would had the sense to do when having polite conversation, unless she wanted something.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:51:54 Stalingrad Range near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

The old lady shot off a rapid-fire stream of Russian at the server girl who, for some odd reason, gave Jack the impression of stifling a smirk. "She wants you to go pick up her laundry from across the street at Olga's laundry room, then buy 6 cases of ammunition for her warhawk, caseless ammo only of course.... and finally she wishes you to go pick up her daily supply of fish from the fishery in Everrett. After that, she will talk to you about training."

The server looked at Jack, "Nice to meet you Wild Card... interesting name, you can call me Alex."

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:53:22 Stalingrad Range near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

You've got to be fraggin' kidding me... Jack decided to flourish his upcoming conversation with Hawke with more than a few choice colorful metaphors. In the mean time however, knowing the intricacies of the culture and the powers that be; Jack decided to make a prudent choice.

"Yes ma'am. I would be delighted to get your laundry for you." Maybe I should double up on my meds if I have to deal with this one much longer...maybe I could politely excuse myself and find a game to make some cred. It's got to be less humiliating than this. Alex seems to be enjoying this at least. If it takes this to get her name I don't know if I'd want to find out what it takes to get any more information out of her. Jack droned on in his own head for a while longer, trying not to remember the sheer tedious nature of the situation he found himself in. With that he headed across the street to pick up some laundry.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:57:22 Stalingrad Range near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

The recently aerated front section of the Crimean was directly across the double lane street from a shabby looking and small laundromat which actually looked, from what Jack could see at least through the grimy windows, to be employing real humans rather than drones. The teetering door that led into the establishment proper looked like it could've served better as a spaghetti strainer than any sort of barrier against entry.

Just inside the door, on a rusting bench next to the old-fashioned cash register, a homely looking troll was perched reading an e-paper. The troll apparently was not concerned about a cancer-free life as he seemed hell bent on chain smoking the most noxious smelling nicotine sticks Jack had ever had the displeasure of encountering, even in some of the dives had reason to frequent in search of bigger and better games.

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:59:44 Stalingrad Range near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

"Yeah, I'm here to pick up laundry for Alina." Jack looked over the troll who seemed to enjoy irritating customers with a passion, or perhaps it was the waves of apathy that seemed to come off of him. He looked over at the troll and repressed the sudden homicidal urge to just take out his gun just to get a response. If nothing else Jack knew that Alina would not appreciate blood on her clothes, whether his or the troll's mattered very little.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 21:04:14 Olga's Laundromat near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

The troll however, doesn't even respond, merely pausing to light another, if it is actually possible, even worse smelling nicotine stick and flick the remains near, but not quite at, Jack's feet. As Jack pauses, nonplussed and very uncertain about his next course of action, one of the human ladies folding laundry in the back of the long and narrow hall that forms the laundromat coughs and looks at Jack hurriedly before looking back down at her work.

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 21:05:01 Olga's Laundromat near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

"Yo! I'd be just as happy to leave you alone and let you get back to your paper. Trust me I didn't wake up today and plot out how to annoy you." Jack was keeping his cool for the most part but that same urge came into play.

Jack sent Becky another message. << Hey Becky can I have a naked picture of you, I may need to help motivate this guy into helping me out a little. It's a long story, but you how it goes.>> Jack could only hope that she wasn't passed out somewhere overseas. Jack typically liked trolls, most of the one's he had known growing up weren't too hard on him after he was busted for pickpocketing or whatever. The orks he had known weren't always the nicest however...

Jack took a look at the lady that had coughed. "I'll be right back for that laundry, I need to use your restroom." Jack walked over to the lady. "Excuse me, do you know where the bathroom is?" and in a much lower and quicker tone, "Were you trying to get my attention?"

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 21:05:15 Olga's Laundromat near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

The lady, actually a girl by all comparative aging that Jack could see, merely handed him a basket full of laundry piled precariously high and said, "Thank you, I was wondering when she'd be coming in for it. Now, that will be 500 nuyen please."

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 21:06:31 Olga's Laundromat near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

"500? What's in the basket AK-98s?" though the phrase left his lips with a sarcastic tone, Jack quickly realized that type of humor might not be appreciated. That and the joke's punchline might have more kick than he'd care to know. Jack handed her two poker chips and took the laundry that she had gestured to. Walking back to Alina triumphantly with laundry in hand Jack was whistling an obnoxiously chipper tune while walking past the dour troll if only to spite him. The troll may have had the last laugh because walking by him made Jack feel even more unclean and the clothes surely suffered as well.

That's enough of this drek...

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 21:06:33 Olga's Laundromat near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

As Jack walked out, something about the troll sitting there unmoving unnerved him and he took a closer look as he was about to leave the entry way for the lane outside. The trolls face, which Jack had taken for just an extremely heavily dermal fixation on the part of the miss-shapen troll giving the resemblance of stone... actually was... How the stone was animated to look so lifelike was beyond Jack and made him very glad he had not decided to antagonize the troll-thing.

He hastily crossed the street and entered the gambling den, feeling quite ridiculous at carrying laundry like any serving girl, especially given the looks he was garnering from the patrons of the establishment. He saw Hawke, now very much the calm and usual person that Jack had known him to be in the short term, who caught Jack's eye and smiled broadly before ambling over to the entrance to the gun range. He met Jack at the door as he entered the entry way and gave an understanding nod, "Doing laundry for Alina are you? Poor soul... she comes up with the most interesting chores these days."

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 21:09:17 Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

"Hawke, I just shelled out more cred than I earned tonight from winning that game practically and don't have a thing to show for it. I don't want to be disrespectful to you, but I'm beginning to feel a bit disrespected myself. Is this on the level? I need to know, because I don't do well with practical jokes, at all." Jack was proud of himself for speaking his piece without yelling or using any of the choice metaphors he had in the back of his mind.

Jack could hear some slight snickering and tried to remain calm, but his calm was coming to an end.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:12:15; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

Another small mercy, they seemed to be in working order. That was her primary concern, her second was still the man sitting next to her. He wasn't very talkative, at least for the while she'd been diligently tapping the air in front of her. He had been a lot closer to the blast than she had been, maybe he was still worked up about it?

"Hey, you in there? What's got you so spooked, pal? You need to snap out of it or something, whatever has you worked up, it can't be all that bad! At least you won't be winking like a mad fiend at everyone you come across for the next hour."

She smiled as best she could, but her head was still registering a serious amount of hurt. She only hoped it would alleviate some of his misgivings, considering there was another friendly human-being there. Or maybe he was working up the courage to ask her her rates. Better to be proactive, especially since he wasn't all that bad looking.

"Oh, almost forgot, my rates are 300Y an hour."

She hoped she was right, or this was about to get even more awkward.

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:14:11; S 19th St.]
Adrian heard the woman talk to him, only actually registering her words after a few minutes.
"Hey, you in there? What's got you so spooked, pal? You need to snap out of it or something, whatever has you worked up, it can't be all that bad! At least you won't be winking like a mad fiend at everyone you come across for the next hour."

Stopping his search for a useless medkit Cybereyes. Lemme get that clear CYBEReyes, got it!?, he turns towards her and says Sorry, it's just I'm; Well I'm not used to losing customers, I'm not used to bombs blowing up close by, I'm not used to having customers' heads... wait her head...
Adrian's face becomes even paler. If her head blew up and ... it was not an - what do you call it explosive round - and it was not magic - should have checked - then... Oh no! Her head blew up, as in there was a bomb in her head! She was in my cab! If it would've blown earlier...

Still shaken, it takes him another minute to react to Saint's next sentence. Your rates? But I'm the cabbie... Er Looking confused, he looks at Saint, then gives her a look-over; he continues Ah; err, nothing personal but if you're selling, I'm not buying looking her over once more, he smiles and finishes however enticing the offer is.

Enticing, tempting, ... Good thing I got a thesaurus. Guess with where my thoughts are going, I'm definitely still alive...

Smiling for more than one reason, Adrian remembers something he'd almost forgotten About that wink... I guess you'd need to see someone to get that fixed. Not that I've got any personal experience with that, but you got a err Doctor-cum-Mechanic I could drive you to? Seeing as I still got most of a taxi left...

More under his breath, he adds First week and one of my fares has a bomb in her head! Maybe ferrying rich kids around wasn't so bad after all.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:12:15; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

Yup-- awkward. She smiled to herself, glad that part was out of the way. She really wasn't up for it anyway, and what made her smile was a small musing of how a headache really was the reason this time.

However, although her mind was swimming, it connected a few strands of data he'd spurted out. Head. Explosive. Her. Then a mini montage, promising to make her ill all over again, started running in a loop in her head. He had dropped her off at this location? She had been in THIS car? An information source had appeared!

"Wait. You knew that woman? Do you know anything about her? Where'd she call the taxi from?" She asked with genuine interest, positively ecstatic that she had a new lead. Though, she had side-tracked most of his conversation, regular banter could wait she justified to herself, this was important.

Unless she found out more, she wouldn't be leaving this guy's side. She pulled a window up as quickly as she could, running a browse program on combat cab services and the people who used them after jumping nodes to a public access terminal nearby where she could searches on relating information. She split her focus, she didn't have to worry about IC or snooping while on public MSPs. Saint was on this like an active bloodhound IC, but she needed to register whatever information this cabbie had on Jessica.

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:13:54; S 19th St. In a Comat Cab]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor

Tapping out a few commands on his console, Adrian causes a flickering map to appear on the cracked windshield.
Well, dispatch sent me there... He stabs his finger at a spot on the map, causing it to flicker before it settles down again. to pick her up. So that should be where she called from.

Who was she? I mean, I got her name but why'd someone he shudders blow her up in the middle of a road? With Knight Errant nearby?

And whith me nearby. There ain't no such thing as coincidences. What is my part in this story? And hers, whatever her name is?

You can call me John, by the way... As he takes his finger off the windshield to point at his license, the map flickers again, inverting its colours.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:12:15; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

She looked up for a moment, having rotten luck anyway finding anything remotely close to useful.

"Can you bring up a street name on the screen? I imagine if she was that paranoid she'd have walked a block before signaling your cab. However, we could get lucky if she was in a rush. Either way, I have a narrowed triangulation on her place of residence, or at least a point of interest. She could've been walking out of the street doc that had her fitted with that cortex bomb. Long shot, but anything's better than what I have now."

She went back to her search program for the time-being. Anything she said from then on was in short bursts as she juggled the two mediums of reality.

"Her name is Jessica. Street walker turned CJ, not someone you want to be friends with. Apparently, all she had left were the wrong types. That thing I mentioned, the cortex bomb, it's something you put in your head if you want to keep your information overly safe. Usually a last ditch effort, judging by the feed I have of her before she vaporized, she knew it was there. The information better damn well be worth your life, in her case, I imagine there were worse things in store for her if the data got free." She spoke dispassionately, each sentence separated by a few seconds or longer, as it was just cold hard fact.

She paused her searches for the moment, still not getting anywhere. She was half-focused on other routes she could take to get info, and half-focused on the conversation.

"You dig a deep enough grave, someone will it fill it for you." She said mostly to herself, until she remembered she wasn't alone with her thoughts. She turned to Adrian, still heavily focused on the matter at hand, she wasn't much for smiles and rays of sunshine right now.

"Hey John, I'm Saint, welcome to the REAL Seattle night life," waving her hand to encompass the blast area behind the cracked windshield.