Deep Vengeance..., ...is the Daughter of Deep Silence Options

[Strangeglove]

"Creators? Are you some sort of drone or spirit or something?"

Strangeglove peers at Zerone intently, looking for screws or ectoplasm.

[JxJxA]

"Oh, um, I am a clone. My name is based on my tube's markings, '01RO.' They did not give me a name, so I took that, but most find 'Zerone' easier to say." Upon mentioning his origin, his face drops a bit.

"I should probably mention that being a...um...clone, means that there are others who share my face. My mind is my own, but I am afraid that the others who look like me share my talents...and I don't think we were meant to be nice to others at all..."

[Strangeglove]

"Are your clones trying to kill you? I heard that's what happens to escaped medical experiments and stuff. So what powers did they give you, anyway? And what's RO stand for?"

He's probably going to go insane and try to kill us. No wonder running is so dangerous, every group has one. At least one.
Strangeglove eyes the rest of the group speculatively.

[JxJxA]

"I do not know...I don't think so... I awoke in a garbage dump, saved by a scavenger who found my discarded cloning tube. From what I can remember, my creators were trying to clone mages for fighting---I do not like violence, which is probably why they threw me away. The first spells I could summon were meant for killing, but Follower---oh, uh, Follower of the Way is my mentor spirit---he helped me mold the magic to more humane and benign results.

"Oh, uh, RO is Rho Omicron, from what the people at the church shelter told me."

Zerone smiles, happy that someone is interested in learning about him. He decides to return the favor.

"If I, uh, might ask, Mr. Strangeglove, what does Strangeglove mean? Is it a real name? Do you wear gloves that are strange?"

[Buddha72]

The Table
Widget looks over the data as it streams in - noting the list from Fat Man, Strangeglove and Cypher as she gets them. Her face looking between the AR interface she has going and the conversation as it flows around the table.

"I'll say it again - you are all one whacked bunch of runners and I have a broad defination of the word. Any of the rest of you have something specific throw it in so I can get this done."

She grabs with a pinkie, a small window that when tapped twice grows to a good 21" sized window. She slides the smaller captured images from the previous searches, she drags and drops them into the larger window.

"Drumroll please...."

The window takes the data and you see a complex steam of symbols scroll past with her occasionally tapping one here or there. A series of images flash by in rapid succession then the window goes blank and constricts to the size of small 2" square with a single image pulsing in it of a white rabbit. Widget's lights up and she smiles as she taps the icon.

"...the winner is someone named Zuzane or Temple ."

The rabbit swells into a picture of a slim and severe looking woman dressed in fetish wear of some sort - a collar and mostly naked under layers of sheer fabric - photographed coming and going from a club called the Body Bag.

"Looks like the sex doll here was a bodyguard for some mojo slinger rumored to have the backing of someone scaly and powerful but something happened - he disappeared and his power base was ripped to shreds by his magic group."

She looks to the Awakened members with a open curiosity.

"I thought magic groups were a little more tight than that but what the fuck do I know. It seems he had stashes of cash and goods that were never found. It seems she has set up shop as a broker using her former client's rolodex - we assume using said hidden treasures. I have here an address for one of her warehouses in town that looks like it might have some of what you all are looking for."

She grabs a section of text and slides it to a smaller window and sets a search running. The second person looks to be a young woman with a farily open face and somewhat sweet but distracted expression.

"The runner up is someone named Temple but it looks like she worked on a job awhile back were a lot of law enforcement were frankly massacred - they used rocket launchers on them - god damn. It looks like she has a new group she has hooked up with and they have a safehouse in Seattle which has a pretty good chance of having what we're looking for. She looks like a twinkie that can talk but I have met plenpty of folks who like look your sweet cousin Minnie while emptying a clip into the brain pan of hepless security guard. "

She repeats a search with this block of information as the previous window returns a result. She swaps them out and begins to look it over.

"It seems Zuzane's former boss was being investigated in a murder on an underage boy. The theory was that the group were sexual predators of some sort and we're using him in some sort of magical ritual but he vanished before charges could be filed. Is that even possible?"

She looks up again then shakes her head no as the second search concludes. She enlarges it with a pinch and a pull with two fingers.

"Don't answer that - I need to sleep later. Temple apparently also did some sort of tell-all with her former team mates on what was dubbed the Fairlight Masscre - the one where they turned the cops into gooey paste. She hung them all out to dry so no love lost here in the shadows. She seems to be putting out a cover story of "I didn't know they were those kind of criminals". You know, the ones that kill cops. "

She shakes her head in disbelief.

"Give some women a C cup and they ruin it for the rest of us. So folks that's what I have for you in possible targets with what you need."

She claps her hands together and all the windows condense to icons and she leans back to see what the group has to say.

[Strangeglove]

Responding to Zerone, Strangeglove holds up his left hand, the one Widget was cooing over.
The glove itself is unremarkable black leather, but judging by its shape you guess the hand underneath was once in an tumultuous relationship with heavy machinery.

Following Widget's pronouncement, he says, "As much as I like the idea of stealing from someone who's already dead, if Zuzane got this stuff from a dragon, then stealin' from him'd be like stealin' from a dragon, right? An I'm not gonna steal from a dragon. An it sounds like this Temple chick is runnin' without friends, which makes her an easy pick. It's not like she's gonna go bawling to the cops 'Ooh mean runners stole my grenade launchers.'"

[BishopMcQ]

In his apartment, Cypher whistles as the data streams across the link. Both of these jobs sounded like they had plenty of promise, but both could blow up in their faces faster than Knight Errant mocked Lonestar cops. Spinning up his data streams, the hacker punches some key word searches as he listens with half an ear to the rest of the conversation.

[UmaroVI]

"I have no problem stealing from the followers of left-hand ways and side doors, or traitors; whichever target is more practical is fine with me."

[Hamagen]

"I'm good with either honestly, sounds like they can both be fun, even if their is a dragon"

Breeze winks mockingly at Strangeglove

[BishopMcQ]

"From the basic description, hidden caches of gear is going to be along our alley. Watching a traitor who hung out to dry a bunch of hackers fall down a flight...or ten...of stairs would be a fun Saturday night if folks are interested, but I'm thinking Zuzane's our girl Friday."

Cypher keeps the data searches going, looking for traces of the events and how they tie back to more current tidings.

[Buddha72]

Cypher
You receive an alert that your searches are concluded - you tap the icon for the Fairlight Massacre. It balloons into several different data streams in front of you. The first stream is a series of news casts about the event. A runner team apparently tried to hit a manufacturing site for high end cyber decks. You scroll through the reports and quickly see that something went wrong with the job - an explosive charge set to knock out a key communications and power grid didn't go off and Lone Star's wasn't delayed at all in responding to the break in. The runners seemed to have some back up support just in case, which seemed to be local petty criminals with disposable rocket launchers. Scores of LS personnel were killed or seriously injured. They are a host of links to human interest stories about the brave men and women; their families and the aftermath. Lone Star wasted no time in spinning the incident into a PR win - highlighting the nobility and bravery of their employees - a new ad campaign was launched with the slogan "We remember Fairlight. Do you?" focusing on their dedication and commitment to clients.

Looking over the other streams - these ones from darker corners of the matrix - you find a grainy clip of a slim, possibly Elven, woman leaping from the roof of the plant on roller skates of all things. She is wearing a mirrored helmet and unloads two machine pistols into the security below as some force - most likely magic - cushions her fall. There are shots of a few more people - men mostly it seems leaving the site as well. There are postings of Iblis and her crew having bitten off more than they could chew and rumors that they hit the open seas and went to the islands to escape the heat. There is rumors that they retired in style from that run or that Lone Star caught up with them and they are rotting in some corp prison or worse yet being used as lab rats.

Switching to the other search, you watch the icon resolve into a porn blitz. It seems the Body Bag is own by a former fetish porn starlet and queen by the name of Madame Yin. She has done hundreds of movies and made a name for herself in the community which she parlayed into a thriving club in Seattle catering to the fringe. It hosts live shows and stages elaborate parties that blur the line between sex and art. She has been written up in several e-zines for her bold and innovative vision of sex, desire and commercial profit.

One oddity pops up in the mainstream media - a party she hosted apparently was crashed by a group of runners and resulted in several security officers dead and several guests being injured. The news reports claim they were targeted for their high profile guests of the private birthday party. Several tens of thousands of gifts were reported stolen. It seems the next year was a tough one for the club as it worked to shake off the fallout from the event .There is footage from an aerial drone shows a nearly naked woman making short work of the security just outside of the club. Watching her move you are certain she is modded or quite possibly an adept. She moves through the men in SWAT gear like they were standing still. You see her bare foot drive men much larger than herself back several meters as she lashes out in a whirlwind of kicks and she dodges small gun fire like they were flinging bean bags. The footage ends with her throwing a helmet from a down officer into the drone itself. You are fairly sure it's Zuzane.

The shadow boards talk about the bad luck the owner of the Body Bag has suffered at the hands of the community. Madame Yin is rumored to run a higher end whore house and it was hit by runners attempting to collect a mid level Japanese executive from the premises. There was some damage to the actual structure and she suffered a loss in business when the word got out that someone had been scooped up from her place. Reading it over, the poster seems to be asking the runners in the Seattle area to give the place a break since her legit business was then hit shortly after the whore house - possibly leading to the closure of both.

[BishopMcQ]

Watching the woman flying off the roof in roller skates, Cypher grits his teeth against the wave of images slamming into him. She's the greatest, she's fantastic. A Stuffer Shack bathroom. SAVE ME!! He'd never met Iblis, how did part of her end up inside his head?

Jump over the candlestick. The voice resonated through the apartment or was it just in his head.

Now wasn't the time to start going crazy. He needed to focus. Cypher guzzled down the rest of the coffee, feeling his tongue burning in pain. The pain drove away the cloud of images until it was just AROs in his workspace. Forwarding the shadow request to Widget, the hacker leaves an open question--Management?

"I've got more details about the Body Bag folks and Zuzane. Fairlight didn't turn up anything useful...nothing about Temple." He forwards the incident footage from the Body Bag to the team.

Cypher also sends several of the spreads on Madame Yin to SG and a note that she'd probably be personally grateful for anyone who took Zuzane down a peg or two.

[JxJxA]

Zerone's face grows deathly pale as he hears about Zuzane and the rumors surrounding that job.

"Um...either works for me."

[Fenris]

Almost as comfortable as Widget and Cypher with the ARO windows, Fleet manges the windows and the information as it floats around, annotating and marking notes, putting all of the data on the Bodybag and Zuzane in a series of cascading windows off to one side.

"It doesn't sound like she's working for the dragon, regardless of her previous affiliations, and while Madam Yin may not be a significant mover-shaker, it never hurts to have someone that is tied into social community at large feeling grateful. It sounds like that would do our double duty of achieving our 'logistical' goals as well as 'helping' people by taking resources out of the hands of someone that has no compunctions about killing cops in front of everyone."

A separate, unseen window is spinning access details on Cypher's account on the hobgoblin's commlink, giving him the necessary controls to send and receive data, but limiting access away from sensitive data, cyberware that wasn't being tied to the sensory input, and limiting controls on the subscribed machines and peripherals. As access for the hacker is granted, there's a quick jaunt through what's obviously a fake, public commlink and into the runner's personal gear. Immediately, a flood of data is fed into the Tactical network. An exterior view of the club, probably from a few thousand feet up is immediately obvious, tied into a drone with a upgraded sensor suite. A smaller drone inside the club, perched on a wall overlooking the table is sending a flood of notices about ARO intrusions on the hobgoblin's network. More geo-tagged locations with included sensor feeds, probably from vehicles or drones scattered around the city, along with another half-dozen full sensor feeds that are currently inactive. Each is tagged with a name probably drawn from the rigger's apparent faith...Zabaniah, Raqib, Atib and the like. Play nice... is tacked on along with the access.

"If that works for you, then, Eklipse, let's all agree to meet somewhere a little more discreet tomorrow and pool together our resources and set out a general plan. I assume, for tonight, we can just enjoy the club?"

Those members of the team that had indicated that they didn't have their own rides will receive requests to allow the rigger access to the the geo-locator services on their commlink, with a note that vehicles will be waiting for them when they leave the club and will be put at their disposal for the duration.

Business apparently concluded, the hobgoblin will relax back, actually order something alcoholic ("Not orthodox," he'll explain with a smile to anyone that looks in askance), and his hair will suddenly become highlighted with a rainbow spread of neon colors, a small token, at least, to the colorful conglomeration visible in the club.

[Hamagen]

Brreze accepts the geo-locator request.

[Buddha72]

Cypher
You see a reply come back from Widget.

<<I don't think so - who ever your boss is they seem pretty direct so far.>>

[BishopMcQ]

Reading the message, Cypher realizes that Widget can hear the rest of the voices in his head.

<<Sorry, not is she Management, but rather does Management have a stake in her success or failure? I'm hoping these jobs won't reflect badly on us with our mysterious benefactor.>>

[Buddha72]

Cypher
<<Oh! I didn't even think about that - let me send them a message and see if we get anything back.>>

[Strangeglove]

"I can't keep all this political bullshit straight, but this Yin chick is some sort of high society freak, right? An helpin' folks with money and pull pays off better than just robbin' stiffs, if you're careful. An' let's not forget she's running a whorehouse. An fine, thankfulful whores an' all that, but it's not jus' that. She jus' got knocked over twice, an' is afraid. If we bring back whoever did it, she gets her rep back. An' she'll probably be innerested in hiring some muscle to make her place secure. Think of that guys" — Strangeglove pauses for effect — "Bein' paid to hang around a whorehouse."

[Notsoevildm]

The datastreams are starting to give Eklipse a headache, or maybe it is the beer. He swipes the icons from his AR, confirming the mental command with a physical gesture.

"I would prefer to avoid dealing with ze dragons. Vun is already more than enough. But as it seems we would be helping zis lady and if ze data is correct zat ze target is no longer affiliated with ze dragon, then perhaps this one is ze better option. If only for ze 'perks', ja?"

He gives the troll a grin and a salute with his half-empty beer bottle before finishing it off.

[Hamagen]

Breeze puts a hand on Strangegloves' back and nods

"I know exactly what you mean my friend"

[UmaroVI]

Fat Man doesn't seem either particularly interested in or bothered by the pictures of Madame Yin or Zuzane, and just rolls his eyes at Strangelove and Breeze.

"I think Zuzane sounds like a more promising target. Both of them have enemies, but we have a clearer idea of how to contact hers, and it sounds like her dragon patron is out of the picture."

After seeing the footage, he turns to Cypher's AR display.

"Do you think you can figure out if her skills are natural or not? It would be good to know if she is an adept when making plans."

[BishopMcQ]

"Well, in Karl Kombatmage: Kamikaze, he had to rely on his wits and charm when he went to the secret Luna base. Something about magic being really hard. So if we send her to the moon and she still kicks ass, it's all natural."

[Buddha72]

The Table
An explosive spray of a mixed drink erupts in the air from Widget who literally laughs out loud from Cypher's dry delivery. She scrabbles for napkins - apologizing profusely to any and all who were caught in the blast. As she finishes moping up the mess - she pauses and her eyes take on that disconnected look she has from accessing something from her commlink or perhaps a drone. A brief look of confusion passes over her face as she begins to speak.

"I just got a message from HR and you all have two new hires. A new employee orientation is being set up for you all along with a new office for field work here in Seattle. I'm suppose to get a packet in a few hours which I will pass along to you all. HR apparently talked to Legal and Marketing - they all agree that Zuzane is the target of choice. In fact they have offered a bonus of 5k per person to select her."

She snaps back to her senses and leans back with a thoughtful look on her face.

"Guess you all are back on the clock."

[Lain]

Club, Downtown Seattle:
Looking around the room with eyes as cold and blue as midwinter dawn It was as if he were weighing people in his mind and there was no sign on his face of what the scales told him. The man is dressed in a heavy obviously armored jacket, t-shirt and jeans, and appears to be searching for someone. Not finding it he steps out of the club, he pulls his jacket tight as if he isn’t used to the cool temperatures hops on his Suzuki and heads out.

Jon’s Apartment:
Stepping into his apartment his eyes gloss over the mess all over the floor, lightly touching the cement blocks he practices hand to hand combat on. With a heavy sigh, Jon pulls the twin Ares out of the concealed holsters and drops them next to the Alpha w/underbarrel grenade Launcher. Jon steps into the bathroom takes out his contacts, looking into the mirror at his slitted iris, and his reflection in his eyes, he wonders why he is in Seattle. Crawling into bed, he looks at a picture of him and a well-dressed woman at a function. With a smile Jon falls asleep the picture dropping from his hand to the ground.