 Shadowrun Tabletop - Hidden Stories |
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 Dec 22 2012, 04:24 PM
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#26
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Great Dragon  Group: Dumpshocked Posts: 5,082 Joined: 3-October 09 From: Kohle, Stahl und Bier Member No.: 17,709  |
QUOTE (Slacker @ Dec 22 2012, 04:23 PM)  Nope, they've closed that down too now. Pfff, as if that would bring the cat back into the bag |
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Dec 22 2012, 09:56 PM
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#27
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Moving Target Group: Members Posts: 590 Joined: 30-January 12 Member No.: 48,557 |
QUOTE (bannockburn @ Dec 22 2012, 04:52 AM) So, has anyone tried anything else? Any luck at all? I tried and was unsuccessful with the following. The date numbers (75, 53, 1221, 753), 1835 for the Arcology, and just for fun, references to birds in Dunkelzhan's will (silver, songbird, rhonabwy, ryumyo, and ring) |
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Dec 23 2012, 12:07 AM
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#28
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The King In Yellow Group: Dumpshocked Posts: 6,922 Joined: 26-February 05 From: JWD Member No.: 7,121 |
Thought it could be a Harlequin reference, but was unsuccessful with Thalia, Harlequin, Frosty, Jane Foster and Songbird.
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Dec 23 2012, 01:56 AM
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#29
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Moving Target Group: Dumpshocked Posts: 963 Joined: 15-February 11 From: Tir Tairngire Member No.: 21,972 |
grrrr. . . this one is just mean.
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Dec 23 2012, 03:11 PM
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#30
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Great Dragon Group: Dumpshocked Posts: 5,082 Joined: 3-October 09 From: Kohle, Stahl und Bier Member No.: 17,709 |
From the shadowrun.com forums:
QUOTE Just wanted to confirm: I don't think there is a way to guess the pw for the birdie thing, short of brute-forcing it. http://www.shadowrun.com/forums/discussion...-short-stories- On the other hand, the solution could be posted in big fat letters on that board and there would still be a good chance nobody finds it. Finding the thread from above in the chaos they call a forum took me longer than solving the riddles up to the birdie... |
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Dec 23 2012, 03:33 PM
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#31
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Running Target Group: Members Posts: 1,018 Joined: 3-July 10 Member No.: 18,786 |
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Dec 23 2012, 06:03 PM
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#33
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The King In Yellow Group: Dumpshocked Posts: 6,922 Joined: 26-February 05 From: JWD Member No.: 7,121 |
*grumblemumble*
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Dec 23 2012, 06:04 PM
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#34
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Great Dragon Group: Dumpshocked Posts: 5,082 Joined: 3-October 09 From: Kohle, Stahl und Bier Member No.: 17,709 |
Got annoyed about not having the story bits at least arranged sequentially, so...
Eye of the Hurricane [ Spoiler ] All the runners I’ve ever known—the ones still living, anyway—say to never go on a bender the night before a big job. You do too much boozing, chipping, whoring, whatever, and your brain’s gonna be duller for the whole rest of the day after you wake up. Synapses don’t fire as quickly. Slower reaction time. A nanosecond’s hesitation can get even the best runner in his prime killed. So, why in the hell do I have this Turing-cursed hangover? First thing I notice on waking up—besides the buzzing in the back of my head and the throbbing at my temples and the base of my neck—is my left arm, just a few centimeters from my face. It’s depilated, to better show off my nanotattoos, except I can’t even make out the design from this close. I slide my arm away from my face to bring the rest of the world into focus. Everything sharpens except for the tattoo. The programmable nanite design is something unrecognizable. Rubbing my eyes of sleep and refocusing them doesn’t help; it only accentuates the wrongness of what used to be a painstakingly crafted gold-and-red draco occidentalis coiling around my forearm. Now it looks like blocks of garbage code, like the 256th-level glitch from that ancient 2D game with the yellow ball that eats ghosts. The mirrored nanotattoo on my other arm is likewise wrong. Placing both arms side by side, the patterns—seemingly random at first—match each other perfectly, as though this was intentional. Must’ve had too much to drink to have done something like that, because I sure as hell don’t remember reconfiguring it. I close my eyes—not because I have to, but because it helps to shut out the light right now—and access the tattoo nanites’ programmable function. Buffer recall easily restores the twin dragons in seconds. Should be faster, but this hangover is slowing everything down. I don’t understand this. Don’t remember having anything to drink last night. Okay, maybe I had one drink, but that wouldn’t dull me like this. In fact, I don’t even remember quite what I did last night. Think, Ragno. What did you do last night? I sit up, wander into the shower. Water always seems to help jog the memory. Last night was … the meet at Sulla Vite with Signora --- Rossi. Had one glass of vino rosso with dinner and a chocolate gelato while we reviewed the plans for tonight. Nothing that would make me feel like this. Showers usually wash away all remnants of the night—the vino, the women, the entertainment—but not today. That buzzing in the back of my head is still there, but it’s not the buzz I’m used to. For those of us in constant contact with the Matrix, the continuous flow of data in and out of our brains is a comforting presence. The input/output stream passes through my consciousness like a raging river when I need it, or a gentle brook when I don’t. I can speed up or slow down the information as much as I want, but it’s always there, even if it’s just a trickle. Now, though, the brook feels … polluted somehow. Like someone put a filter on incoming data. Or the signal-to-noise ratio is drowning out important data with random garbage. This is not good. As I’m getting ready for today’s job, the background noise isn’t getting any better. A breakfast of soykaf, a cornetto, and some methamparacetamol pills doesn’t help calm it. A quick run on the treadmill does wonders for my stiff muscles, but my brain still feels like it’s lodged sideways in my cranium. Something’s wrong with my wetware. I’m sure of it. Problem is, I don’t know of any street docs that would have any clue on how to treat a virtuakinetic, and, besides, I really don’t want anyone rooting around in my brainpan unless it’s necessary. One wrong move and I could end up lobotomized or lose my connection to the Matrix for good. Or the medico could sell me out and my brain would end up in a jar in some Mitsuhama lab somewhere. Whatever’s wrong with me, it feels like my skull’s home to a hundred lightning bugs all fighting to get out of a jar that’s just too damn small. Maybe it’s the Dissonance creeping up on me. Maybe I’m just getting old. I spend most of the morning going over --- the plan in my head. The more familiar with it I am, the better I’ll be in case this noise doesn’t go away. S far, the noise is mucking with my concentration whenever I try to do anything more complicated with the Matrix than access a public node with very little security. I try to thread a complex form to take root access from the soykaf shop across the street, just to see if I can do it; it works, but almost trips an alarm. From the streams of Matrix code, I try compiling a low-rating sprite. I call it Zero-Uno. It coalesces in my AR view as this lopsided, geometric monster that again makes me think of the 256th-level glitch. Zero-Uno works, but just barely, and the attempt nearly knocks me out. I keep the sprite cached just in case; no need to let that effort go to waste. After another soykaf, I’m heading out the door of my flat with my Beretta 97 tucked into a shoulder holster, my dummy commlink shoved into the pocket of my jacket, and a swirl of Matrix noise rattling around in my head. I’ve got my jacket sleeves rolled up to my elbows, so both dragon tattoos are visible. No one hassles me on my way down the street. The uninitiated take one look at the tats and assume I work for the great dragon Alamais, who seems to be dropping by every once in a while to remind us small folk that he’s capo at the top of the food chain. These people think if they look at me wrong, I can summon the golden bastardo right on the spot and he’ll eat them all. If people want to think that, fine; I don’t do anything to discourage them, but the tattoos are for something else entirely. A large shadow covers the street for a moment, and I flinch. A dragon—a real dragon—just passed in front of the sun, flying on its way to wherever. Can’t tell if it’s a great or a normal dragon. All I know is, from its coloring, it’s not Alamais, and I can breathe a sigh of relief. How long ago was it that the average man on the street never saw a dragon? Nowadays, dragon sightings are so common that the occurrence is becoming customary. Give it another few weeks, and I’m sure I won’t even notice how many dragons are in the sky anymore. Though I’ve already had more than enough caffeine, I stop in a soykaf house on Via Gaudenzio Ferrari. My game face is on; it’s easier to maintain today because of my hangover, bad dream, Dissonance, or --- whatever is going on with me. Sitting in the back corner is part one of my job. A pert, young businesswoman in a snappy Italian pantsuit sips a cappuccino along with the rest of the mid-morning crowd, while perusing something in an AR. “Buon giorno, Signora,” I say. “How are the markets looking today?” Capricia Fuselli, granddaughter of N’drangheta Dona Allegra Fuselli, glances up at me through the AR overlay for only a single moment. “Sit.” I slide into the booth across from her. The waitress stops by and I order a double espresso. Two soykafs already today, and I still feel like I haven’t slept in weeks, so I’ll take all the help I can get. “Signora Fuselli,” I say, but she cuts me off with a glare I believed could drive off a crazed free spirit, were she so inclined. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face in this sprawl again, Ragno, after what you did last night.” I recoil from her accusation. I’ve done many things, some I’m not proud of, but this …? Last night I was at Sulla Vite, having vino and gelato. “I don’t—” I quiet down as the waitress drops off my steaming mug and wait for her to leave. “I don’t know what you’re—” “Stow it,” Capricia snaps. “I will get the info from you one way or another.” “I’m sure you will,” I say. I try to play coy, but it’s difficult to do while sipping scalding-hot espresso, sending Zero-Uno to search for any recent news items that might be connected to me, and trying to press through the swarm of lightning bugs bouncing around in my skull. “But I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.” Capricia frowns. “You think we wouldn’t find out? —out? —out?” A wave of vertigo and nausea hits me. Everything sounds hollow and distant. Capricia turns into a blend of psychedelic colors that waves back and forth, and darkness edges in on my vision. ********** An explosion of pain brings the world back into focus. I’m not in the booth anymore, but from the heady tang of soykaf vapors I can still smell, I haven’t gone far; probably to the apartment above the café. A quick check with a GPS service over the Matrix confirms my suspicion. I’m sitting in a chair, and sunlight streams into my eyes through the windows. My Beretta and ’link are resting on a nearby table, far out of arm’s reach. Two armed, cybered goons—also in expensive Italian suits—flank Capricia and will likely shoot me dead if I try to make a move for my sidearm. “Let’s try this again,” she says. “Tell me who you’re working for.” “Some small-time --- outfit,” I lie. “You wouldn’t know ’em.” She backhands me across the jaw. Takes me a moment to refocus my eyes. I taste blood in my mouth. “You’re working for il drago, aren’t you?” she says. “Alamais sent you here to kill me, didn’t he? He wants to destabilize my grandmother’s hold on this part of GeMiTo and crush us for defying him, doesn’t he?” I immediately send Zero-Uno on a quest for any pertinent and current data on the Calabrian N’drangheta. “I already told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Then how do you explain this?” Capricia turns her AR window so I can see it. In some security camera footage, I watch myself, wearing the clothes I wore yesterday, attempting to hack a maglock on the outside of a building. My throat goes dry. My pulse quickens. I do not remember myself doing that last night. “What is this?” “You tell me,” she said. “You tried to break into one of our data havens. And you’ve apparently been a very busy little spider of late, Signore Ragno.” She changes the image. “This is from three days ago, when you hit another of our data farms.” Another snapshot. “This is from a week ago.” I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry. I never did any of those things, but the clips all look real. And in each one I’m wearing outfits I normally wear. Have I been … sleepwalking? Sleephacking? My throat constricts in on itself and my blood goes cold. Last night’s hangover, the reprogrammed nanotats, the reason I feel like I haven’t been sleeping, and the lightning bugs all bottled up in my braincase … What in Turing’s name is going on here? “I … you’ve got everything all wrong,” I say. “I was … I don’t work for Alamais. The dragon tattoos … they’re just a code. A way of communicating nonverbally to contacts or potential clients. Dragon means I’m working a job. Violin spider means I’m available.” “And the data stores?” I know she’s never going to believe me, no matter ---- how truthful I am. She has evidence of things I don’t remember doing and would have no motive for. I feel something break on the inside. All of my hardened runner instincts are gone. “You want to know who I’m working for? Your grandmother the dona,” I admit. “She wanted an outsider to keep tabs on you. Make sure you weren’t trying to create your own power base to push her out of the organization. But this?” I wave at the accusatory AR footage hovering less than a meter in front of me. “There’s nothing I can say to convince you that’s not me, because, frankly, I can’t be sure it’s not me. But I tell you, I have no conscious memory of any of these incidents. Someone must’ve done this to me.” A sensation in the back of my thoughts alerts me to Zero-Uno’s return. Did you mean to upload this database to your bio-storage late last night? the sprite said in my AR view. The data trail marks the files as originating from a series of local nexi operated by the Calabrian N’drangheta Mafia. In the space of about five seconds, I scan the database I didn’t even realize I already had downloaded to my wetware, and a huge red flag pops up. By Turing … it was me who had hacked all those mob nodes. Capricia’s eyes narrow into monoblade daggers. “My nonna would never have me supervised.” “She would if you were guilty,” I say. Now she’s pointing the pistol right in my face. “Do you know what happens to people who tell lies about me?” “Sì,” I say as calmly as I can muster. “You sell them out to Alamais. You betray members of your own race to that scaly pile of merda.” Capricia winds up to pistol-whip me, but the blow never lands. The sunlight disappears, just like when I was out walking, only this time it doesn’t come back. There are—there are dragon wings headed straight for the window in front of me. Time slows. A blur of dragon scales sends a thousand barbs of shattered glass sailing through the room. Capricia screams and throws herself to the ground. One of her bodyguards takes a broken piece of windowpane right through the jugular. All of the air seems to have been sucked out of the room. And then, the adult Western dragon falls away from the hole it made in the building, bathing the room in sunlight once again. Out the window, I see --- another dragon—a much bigger dragon—rearing up to strike at the first dragon. For a second I cannot breathe. When I do, I smell only burning. I dive for the table, grab my Beretta—the commlink is worthless—and run for the door. “After him!” Capricia shouts. The surviving goon fires. Splinters from the doorframe pelt my arm as I bolt into the hallway. I blind-fire a few shots of my own, and then I’m down the stairs, into a soykaf house filled with shrieking, fleeing patrons. The ground shakes several times and I nearly fall face-first into broken saucers and mugs. Flames from the upper story lick at my heels. I don’t know if Capricia is still alive or not, and I don’t care. I’m out on the street, which smells like hellfire and brimstone. I look up, and my bravado vanishes with a whimper. The two adult dragons are trading magic and fire in the sky, diving and nipping at each other. Nearby buildings fared far worse than the burning charnel house behind me. Whole sections of pavement have been uprooted. Storefronts were reduced to burning rubble. Smoke and magic paint the morning into a scene of Hell itself. And then I look past the two wrestling dragons. In the sky above them are dozens of other dragons, both young and adult, maybe even a few great dragons for all I know. Scintillating pockets of magical energy created by great form spirits fill the air. Drakes and countless other creatures I cannot even begin to name take to the skies like all the fireflies banging about in my head. Somehow I’ve walked right into a scene straight from a war trid. To get away from dragons, fire, and magic, I run down Via Gaudenzio Ferrari—or what’s --- left of it. At Via Montebello, I turn down a stretch of unbroken road. And for some reason, I can’t stop looking behind me at all of the destruction. Are you getting all this? Zero-Uno asks in my AR overlay. My wetware’s been storing every image my ocular nerves have captured since Capricia woke me. Start uploading this feed to every news service on the Matrix that you can reach, I instruct the sprite. I have a feeling we just walked into a fight we want no part of. Ahead, I catch sight of the Mole Antonelliana’s upper spire. Tallest brick building in the Sixth World, home of Museo Nazionale del Trideo. Right now it’s probably one of the safest places in all of Torino. If I can just get there and find my way out of the sprawl, maybe I can figure out what’s gone wrong with my head. The sky darkens as I’m almost to the base of the mole. Two more dragons blot out the sun. Amid a haze of fireballs and ear-scraping dragon shrieks, both reptilian beasts collide into the Mole Antonelliana’s squarish, conical crown—and burst through the other side in a spray of brick, glass, and fury. The massive, broken spire leans toward me in slow motion as gravity wins. I keep running, regardless. Grit and debris rains on my face. The sun darkens again, but not from dragons this time. It is inevitability. I glance down at my arms. The twin tattoos are no longer dragons, but the 256th-level glitch again, changing with each fraction of a second. Someone is reprogramming them, but it’s not me. Ares [ Spoiler ] THE NEXT BIG THING When wading through all the crap about fake products spewing from Ares’s hyperactive rumor mill, one has to keep in mind that a megacorp—especially one that just suffered a major hit to its reputation—still needs to make new products. Real products, not chimeras from the addled dreams of corporate R&D hyped by PR to distract the public. From what I’ve found, Ares is doing just that, with a new project that will supposedly make the Excalibur seem like little more than a bad dream after a bender at McHugh’s. The corp’s goals with promoting this new project are threefold. Ares wants to keep people talking about its products, for good or for ill; to distract consumers away from the Excalibur failure and the dismal results of related cover-up operations; and to put the focus on an excellent product or service that will help repair some of the damage the Excalibur cost them. Keep in mind that the actual money Ares lost in developing Avalon and Excalibur is negligible in the eyes of a corporate-level accountant. Fiscal loss is important, sure, but those who recall the finer points from the Corporate Guide upload may remember that losing money or taking out a line of credit isn’t going to wreck the long-term financial solvency of a megacorporation. It might slow them down, but a diversified AAA like Ares isn’t going to vanish into obscurity anytime soon over just one bad product. What’s far more important to the boardroom in Detroit is the Excalibur’s true cost, something shadowfolk readily spend like coin: reputation. I’ve mentioned a few times that once-loyal Ares folks are second-guessing their purchases. I’ve even caught wind of several Ares citizens selling off their corporate scrip for nuyen in order to buy non-Ares products. Both of these scenarios have Knight & Co. running scared. Business savvy aside, how does one successfully compete when even longstanding bestsellers can’t keep you from hemorrhaging more customers on a daily basis? If you ask me, Ares is a bandersnatch’s whisper away from hiring Horizon to work their PR magic to help the Excalibur meltdown go away. That’s how desperate they are. Most megacorps are as self-sufficient as they can make themselves, which means they only make deals with rivals when they have no other recourse for getting what they need. For Ares to even consider such an action shows their current condition. > Why would Ares bother with wasting good nuyen on Horizon PR? I thought Ares Global Entertainment would be more than enough to tackle this mess. > /dev/grrl > Considering the current state of AGE’s leadership, does this really surprise you? > Dr. Spin > That which is not good for the beehive cannot be good for the bees. > Axis Mundi > Not sure how long ago Sticks first wrote this article, but if you haven’t already seen any Ares --- “brand awareness” ads recently, they’re radically different than any ads I’ve ever seen them air. > DangerSensei > You mean like the ones with the guy sitting on a bearskin rug made from a piasma that he killed with an Ares Canadian Sportster? Yeah, I get what you mean. First time I saw one of those, I was surprised to learn it was an Ares spot. The tone, the execution, and everything else smacks of Horizon to me. If Ares wants to hop in bed with them, I say let ’em, but what kind of game are they playing? > Riser > Inter-corporate cooperation can be the first step to a hostile takeover or a mutual merging of assets into a single entity. > Mr. Bonds > If Ares is as beaten down as some people think, could Ares actually be ripe for a takeover for by one of the other AAAs? > /dev/grrl > With current market projections, it’s far too early to tell. > Mr. Bonds > A wounded beast fights with enough desperation that they’d be more likely to try going out with a bang than end up as someone else’s prize. Knight will implode Ares with his own two hands before letting anyone else snatch up what he’s built. > Kay St. Irregular Word around Ares is they’re working on a new, top-secret project that they’re nebulously referring to in advertising as the “Ares NBT.” Ask a salesperson at any Ares branded store just what the hell NBT is, and they’ll repeat the corporate line: NBT will “revolutionize the marketplace” and “connect the consumer to Ares in ways previously undreamed of.” If you believe corporate drones like these, Ares is reinventing the damn wheel. Or they managed to patent breathing or trademark the concept of money. As best I can tell, reality is far more mundane. NBT is still under wraps, but some old-fashioned legwork and ingenuity have crossed off a few of the nonthreatening --- items off the list. Some of the scarier prospects, however, still remain. > I heard about this one. “New Bulldrek Tactic,” right? Meet the new boss, same as the old boss. > Bull > No, wait. You mean “New Bug Target.” > Riser > You’re both wrong. It’s “Next Big Thing.” For serious. > Slamm-0! > What kind of retarded marketing genius came up with that gem? > Cosmo > Please, don’t encourage him. > Glitch > I’m completely serious here. How is it I know something you don’t? > Slamm-0! > They’re actually calling it that? I thought that was just a joke. > Glitch Remember, Ares is in a desperate spot, and desperate entities do desperate things to survive. Their upcoming “magic bullet” might incorporate one or more of the following last-ditch actions. AVALON REDUX Manatech has come a long way since the genesis of the failed Avalon project. I’ve heard unconfirmed rumors that Ares might be trying to resurrect it. The original Avalon failed because the tech and theories behind it were raw and unrefined and Ares lost its lead engineer at a crucial development stage. There is a distinct possibility that “Avalon 2.0” may actually create a feasible prototype this go around. Of course, the project itself—and any end result thereof—isn’t going to be called Avalon 2.0 or Excalibur II. Ares is going to distance itself as far from Arthurian monikers for as long as possible. > One of my contacts tells me Ares has some off-the-books operation called “Gáe Bolg.” Wasn’t that the name of some magical weapon from some mythology or other? And could this be related to “Avalon 2.0”? > Pistons > Gáe Bolg was the spear of Irish folklore hero Cúchulainn, and it was made from the bones of a sea monster. When it impaled an enemy, so many barbs sprang forth from the spearhead while it was imbedded in the flesh that one had to cut the corpse away in order to free the spear. > Frosty > That’s not frightening at all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to try not contemplating the possible correlations of a corp trying to make mythology --- match reality. > Pistons BORN TO SHOP Have you ever found yourself doing something and then realized you don’t remember why you started doing it in the first place, as though the person you were when you began and the person you are now are two different people? That’s part of a rumor that I’m hoping is pure fiction. I don’t know the official moniker for this one, but I’m calling SocialScape, because it’s apropos. Corporations exist for one reason and one reason only: to turn a profit. For a corp to turn a profit, it needs to make products, and consumers need to buy those products (yes, I know, this is basic stuff, but stay with me here). For all but the most basic physiological items on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, corps have to convince consumers to spend their hard-earned nuyen. The corps are essentially waging a war with potential customers, and things like marketing and advertising are the opening salvos that will hopefully knock down defenses and convince these poor fools to part with their money. Now, imagine for a moment if corps didn’t need to rain artillery shells filled with explosive marketing upon their potential client base. What if a corp could use small-caliber sidearms to win its battles in the marketplace? Or what if a corp could close a deal with a smile and a handshake instead of a weapon of any kind? Here’s the most disturbing thought: What if there was no war over consumers at all? What if people woke up and immediately thought, “Man, I need to go get more Ares-branded products today”? What if people bought from a specific corp because they felt it was their civic and patriotic duty to buy Product X, as if they were born for that very purpose? If you eliminate the need for marketing altogether, that means lower overhead and higher profit. Corps trying to brainwash the masses is nothing new. Subliminal advertising has been around since long before the Awakening and isn’t going anyway anytime soon. SocialScape, however, is something different. Where subliminal advertising tricks your subconscious into a certain behavior, SocialScape involves no trickery, per se. Instead, it would actually rewrite minuscule parts of your brain using tailored nanites. > What? > Clockwork Let’s say you’re walking past an Ares-owned storefront. They’re not bothering people with AROs. They’re going old-school and handing out hardcopy pamphlets to passersby. Or maybe they’re offering a free sample of some new miracle-food product. You’re not really that interested, but the lady’s pushy, and you find a brochure stuffed in your hand or some mouthful of genegineered food byproduct floating around in your stomach. Then about half an hour later, you find yourself wondering why you walked past without actually buying anything. That was real stupid of you, right? How could you have forgotten? So you go back and buy whatever the store was --- hawking. Nanites that dusted the brochure and the food sample have already worked their way through your bloodstream and inserted the idea in along with the rest of your own memories. > That is really fucking shady. Assuming this is even real. > Hard Exit > How do you know you haven’t already been affected? Do you actually like shopping at Lordstrungs, or is something in your brain dictating your shopping habits to you? > Dr. Spin > You shut up. I’ve always shopped at Lordstrungs. > Hard Exit > Too bad Ares didn’t already have this sort of thing when the Excalibur launched. Everybody and their grandmother would’ve bought one, and none of this mess would’ve happened. > Goat Foot > That’s the idea, isn’t it? Dictate what people should buy, and a fiasco like Excalibur would never happen again. > Puck > I'm sure people are working on this, and I’m not saying it will never work, but let me say this: The human brain, in all its diversity, is more complicated than that. Trying to design a one-size-fits-all tech for a variety of human brains is a project doomed to insane complications. This is why you get your linguasofts and knowsofts installed by someone who can figure out where it should be in your brain, rather than just dropping it somewhere in your skull based only on where it was in the last guy's head. > Butch PUBLIC DISPLAY OF ANIMOSITY My least favorite theory regarding NBT also happens to involve one of my least favorite subjects. I’ve cleaned up more than my fair share of insect spirit hives, but I am only one person. My work in stomping out the bug population has barely made a dent. At present, there is a lot of anti-bug sentiment sweeping North America, and I believe Ares plans to take advantage of that as best it can. Nothing gets more love and better press than --- a reformed villain-turned-hero, and Ares wants to be this media darling. If Ares can better embody its “making the world a safer place” slogan in a very tangible, public way, perhaps the public might forgive the corp its missteps with the Excalibur. This is why I believe Ares is going to do something drastic in front of the camera, for the whole world to see. Despite my feelings towards bugs, I have major problems with whatever publicity stunt Ares has up their sleeve. Even if their good-faith display goes off without a hitch, it will be more flash than substance, and the general public won’t know the difference. What’s worse is if the stunt goes awry—and we all know it will—then God help all of those nearby. Believe what you will, but these are the facts. Bugs can’t be contained. You can’t train them. Even an insect shaman is just a dupe. Ares should know all of this already, and I can tell you right now that whatever they plan to do is the wrong way to go about it. Period. They don’t know bugs like I do, and hopefully they never will. All they’re going to do is get people killed. > The best story I’ve heard about Ares and the bugs so far is they intend to set up a fake hive in some abandoned building. AGE film crews will then capture footage of a Firewatch team or a Knight Errant SWAT squad “discovering” this hive “right in the middle of the city” and putting it to the torch. > Fianchetto > I’ve heard similar, except that they plan to stage it in the Aurora Warrens in Denver. > Kay St. Irregular > Does Ghostwalker know about that, I wonder? > Fianchetto > If he doesn’t already, he does now. > Winterhawk > I’ll do you guys one better. Some chucklehead told me that Ares recently scheduled several consecutive launches at the Kilimanjaro Mass Driver, and none of them are spacecraft headed to any of the space stations Ares owns. They’re not even proper rockets, truth be told. From what I understand, Ares plans to put flesh-form bug spirits in these space capsules and launch them into space. The idea is to monitor them and study the effects of the bugs as they leave the confines of Earth’s manasphere. > Bull > Oh, that is rich. > 2XL > Ares is playing with fire. They need to stop this before it bites them in the ass. > Sticks --- [part 7 missing] Sleeping with the Enemy [ Spoiler ] Posted by: Hannibelle Here’s one from the Annals of the Obvious: Being Infected sucks. Understatement of the year, right? I’m closer to thirty than I ever thought I’d live to see. I used to be human, and a good little Baptist girl, but trying to be charitable on a summer mission trip put an end to both of those when I was … God, I was just 17. Half a continent and most of a lifetime ago. So … twelve years and change I’ve lived as a ghoul. For the first half of my new life, I did unspeakable things in the name of survival. I still do, I suppose, though I’ve tried to find ways to redeem my soul. Being a ghoul, though, means a lifetime of doing unspeakable things and suffering for them, or doing unspeakable things and becoming a true monster. Ever wonder why so many ghouls go feral? Some of it is the pain of the transformation, and make no mistake, it hurts like a son of a bitch; even the best of us is different than he was before he turned. What makes staying sane so difficult, though, is what we have to do to survive. You can’t sugar-coat it. I mean, we eat people, for Christ’s sake! After a while, that’ll really fuck with you. You’ll either end up sticking a pistol in your mouth, or you’ll lose your fragile grip on reality and go feral. I’m not quite sure where I am on that spectrum right now. I’ll get back to you on that. > I’m pretty sure I don’t like where this is going. > /dev/grrl The past four or five years, I’ve been working for Infected rights. Most of you know that, I suppose. We’ve made a lot of strides over the past twenty years or so. From February of --- 2070 until June of last year, we were making real headway. Not just for ghouls, either, but for all the Infected. Would’ve impressed Tamir Grey something fierce. This last year and a half, though, things have gone all to hell. Some of that is the rights movement going south, yeah, but mostly it’s that being Infected hurts more than it used to. It was never a cakewalk, but since July ’73 or thereabouts, it’s gotten worse. It’s not the same for everyone, and not everyone seems to be affected, but it is spreading. Boy, that’s about as clear as body armor, isn’t it? Okay, case in point: going out in the sun for me has never exactly been comfortable since I changed. Sunlight would hit my skin and there would be a dull ache, like I’d been working out too hard without warming up first. I’d get in out of the sun, and a minute or two later that ache was gone. Most ghouls would tell you the same story. Starting the middle of last year, it got worse. For some it started in July; for me it was the middle of August, and I’m told that there are some who are just now starting to notice. Now when I have to go out, the pain is more than a dull ache; it’s a searing, almost debilitating pain, the kind of pain that you remember and fear when confronted with it again. I’ve been poking around a lot researching this, and it’s happening all over the world. There’s not a ghoul population out there that hasn’t been affected by this to some degree, near as I can tell. Hunger pangs have been harder to deal with, too. I haven’t had to increase the amount of … dammit, saying this never gets easier. I haven’t had to increase the amount of human flesh I need to survive, but there’s always a kind of gnawing hunger if you don’t get enough soon enough. Like any hunger pain, it goes away if you satisfy it, but --- it always comes back. Usually it waits a little while, growing gently, gradually, before it really gets belligerent. It’s been going straight to “belligerent” lately. That pushes you towards the wrong end of the “feral or functional” spectrum, too. > What’s the matter? Tamanous stop delivering? > Clockwork > Fuck you, asshole. > Hannibelle > Most of her research is, understandably, centered on ghouls; that’s where most clinics that cater to the Infected concentrate their efforts. A few of those clinics see Strain I patients, too, however. Mostly vampires. Most records show that vampire patients prior to July 2073 exhibited anaphylactic reactions to sunlight similar to what Hannibelle is describing now: intense pain that takes several minutes, sometimes as much as half an hour, to abate once stimulus is removed. There is seldom any record of actual tissue damage. After July 2073, however, this begins to change. Patients who’ve shown no signs of tissue damage in the past have been treated for second-degree sunburns after little more than a minute’s exposure. Worse, the damage doesn’t seem to regenerate, though conventional and magical treatments still appear to function normally. Emergency treatments for vampires, et al., have increased a staggering seven hundred percent in the last year or so. The numbers are even more alarming when you consider that most Infected don’t, or can’t, seek medical help that leaves a record. Some big names in HMHVV research, names like Günther Langer, Carla Greenbaum, and Thomas McAllister, are currently at a loss to explain this increased sensitivity. > The Smiling Bandit > It’s worse than you think. A colleague of mine in Kiev did cybernetic maintenance on a vampire who had some delta-grade cybereyes and cyberears. Those are supposed to be sufficiently compatible with his system that his regenerative abilities will leave them alone. A few weeks ago, the patient comes in complaining of headaches. Patient lies down on his table, Yuri starts a diagnostic. Two, three minutes into this process, the patient went into grand mal convulsions, and his body began forcefully rejecting his cyber. Near as Yuri can figure, his regeneration decided, out of the clear blue and after more than two years with the ware in his patient’s head, that if it didn’t match the existing genetic template, it was gone. > Butch > Oh, shit, that can’t be good. > Hard Exit > Nope. Cybereyes are more than just the artificial eyeball; there are modifications along --- the entire length of the optic nerve to support the interface with the brain. The path of least resistance for those particular modifications goes forward from the occipital lobe, through the thalamus and corpus collosum, on its way out the eye sockets. Patient died almost instantly from having his goddamn brain scrambled. > Butch That’s just living with HMHVV, though. There’s been a lot of backlash lately against the Infected rights movement, and some of it is our own damn fault. For twenty-odd years, since Bug City, the feral ghoul population’s been declining. Bug City had a ratio of two to three, feral to functional, among the Infected population. The modern ratio in both the CAS and UCAS was along the line of one in eleven. Asamando was boasting one in seventeen. As it turns out, those numbers were bullshit, whether as a result of bad records, changing conditions, or in the case of Asamando, outright lies. The truth in the UCAS, we’ve learned in recent weeks, is more like one in eight ghouls is feral. But after the “food riots” in Asamando last month, we learned that their number is closer to one in ten. > How’d the ratio in the UCAS get so far off? That’s not an insignificant change. > Pistons > Some of it is simply John Q. Citizen not wanting to tell anyone on his census form that his brother is a feral ghoul; follow-up surveys eventually cause the number to be revised when this is discovered. Some of it is that more newly Infected ghouls aren’t getting through the metamorphosis with their mental faculties intact, for reasons we haven’t yet determined. Some formerly functional ghouls are reverting; Hannibelle hinted at this earlier in her article. > The Smiling Bandit > Okay. “Food riots” in Asamando? > Sticks > Yeah, seems the food supply didn’t like the idea of being the food supply, so it rioted; hilarity ensued. Read on. > Sunshine After gaining recognition from the Corporate Court a few years back, Asamando worked to win UN recognition. Every few months, the UN sends a new “fact-finding” team into Asamando to determine if they’ve made any progress. The problem is, “progress” for the UN is ghouls not living on human flesh, and the problem with that one is the “storehouses,” or, as most countries call them, the prisons. Near the end of October, Queen Thema --- Laula issued her call for Infected from all nations to make their way to Asamando. About a week later, another UN team touched down at Nyamkopon International Airport, and they weren’t there for a social call. They wanted to see the prisons. It was bad enough that the Asamandons bought corpses from other countries for food, but the prisons were something else. The UN knew the prisons existed, but they didn’t have any actual evidence about where the volume of inmates came from. Asamando’s rather draconian border security and smuggling laws could only account for so many, and those prisons were bigger than they needed for those criminals. A lot bigger. The UN team arrived unannounced, hell bent for leather, and before the Asamandon military really knew what was going on, the UN team deployed their vehicles and fanned out across the country. When finally confronted at the largest facility outside Nyamkopon, the UN team produced evidence that Asamando had under-the-table deals with a number of corporations around Europe and Africa: “We will give you access to our copious natural resources, and in return you will ship us your condemned criminals to become part of our food supply.” > That’s sick! > /dev/grrl > Why do you think it was so important to Her Gruesome Majesty to be recognized by the Corporate Court before trying for the UN? It was a lot easier to broker that sort of deal with CC recognition. > Sunshine > The UN invoked Resolution 3031 to get into the storehouses. I’m not sure how that worked, exactly, seeing as Asamando isn’t a member nation and isn’t a corp under control of the CC, but it was apparently enough to get them through the prison gates. For all the good it did them. > Kay St. Irregular The inspectors got into five different facilities and began talking to the inmates while guards frantically tried to reach their superiors. The superiors told the storehouse personnel, in so many words, “Fuck the UN. Get those busybodies out of there!” The inmates objected to the rough treatment of their perceived saviors, and since the inmates felt they were dead anyway, they elected to do something about it. They revolted, attacking anybody in a uniform. Within half an hour, it was a full-fledged riot; thousands of prisoners fought for the lives of the inspectors—and their own lives, of course. It was four hours before the order was issued to stop the riot at all costs. The storehouse wardens made the fateful decision to reveal why the prison facilities were so much bigger than they needed to be. At 1821 local time on November 8, five ghouls in five different buildings pushed five buttons and unleashed a nightmare. Those buttons opened up highly secured wings in the prisons, including subterranean levels, and released a feral ghoul population no one knew existed. There were nearly 4,500 feral ghouls held out of sight in those five facilities; other, smaller, prisons scattered around the country held thousands more. They hit the inmate population like a fetid human wave; dozens of inmates were killed, but the Infected assault had the desired effect and drove most of the inmates back to their cells, where there was at least a modicum of safety. The UN inspectors were --- wiped out. The feral population of ghouls eventually returned to the holding areas, but the damage was well and truly done. It was almost impossible to contain the incident, in spite of some heroic efforts by Horizon. Faced with the revelation that her country’s feral population was nearly double what their propaganda told the world, and forced to deal with the slaughter of the UN inspection team, Thema Laula found herself in a very bad position and under enormous strain. On November 16, as she was preparing to address her people, she collapsed between the throne room and the press room of the Ahenfie Owia due to a massive heart attack. Her daughter, Princess Rani Laula, took charge as a small army of doctors fought to save the queen’s life, but the events leading up to Her Majesty’s collapse proved too much for them. Thema Laula, founder and first Queen of Asamando, died on November 25, 2074, and Rani Laula officially ascended the throne at sunset. Her first action, meant to symbolically capture her mother’s spirit and carry it with her forward into her own reign, was to eat her mother’s heart. The next day, Queen Rani Laula announced that her nation would enter a period of official mourning for forty-four days, one for each year of her mother’s reign. As I write this, that mourning is still going and the country has largely gone silent, except for the occasional spin-doctoring they hired Horizon to perform. > So the ghoul apocalypse has begun? Noted for future reference. > Plan 9 Things have also been bad a little closer to home. In April 2073, the Mealtime Killer committed her first murder, in Dallas, TX. From there, she wandered to New Orleans, up to Chicago, and then headed west to Seattle by way of Cheyenne. In each city, she left behind an exsanguinated corpse and a message in blood on the wall over the victim, identifying the meal the body represented. The trail finally ended for the (original) MTK in UCAS Sector, --- Denver, in October 2073, just before the Halloween Killings last year. According to the report that Knight Errant finally released in January 2074, MTK was a woman named Teresa Castillo, originally from Galveston. By her own admission before her death, she was responsible for at least twenty-three deaths over nearly seven months, most of them unknown to the media until the release of the report. By the time Ms. Castillo was taken out in Denver, half a dozen copycats were carrying on the chaos. And that was just in North America. There were also similar killings in Australia, Europe, South America, and Asia. Some of these killings were by vampires or banshees; some were just sick fucks looking for a new way to get off. Didn’t matter. Teresa Castillo had set something really ugly in motion. Four days after she died, Infected rights took it right in the ass. The Halloween Killings made it plain that someone didn’t want equality; whoever it was, they were organized, they were vicious, and they wanted to rule. “Be afraid of the dark,” they told us in eleven cities across this continent, and it worked. Fifteen attempts, eleven murders … the only place they caught one of the killers was in Tenochtitlán, and aside from it being a banshee, the authorities haven’t told anybody anything. So many killings, all at once … yeah, people were scared. You could see it on the streets, almost smell it. Still can, really. > The media loves labels, and “Fear the Dark” is the one they’ve given this bunch. One of their vamps got into the Mansion, a high-end restaurant in Dallas, back in January. Wandered into the climate-control plant in mist form and materialized next to the main air intake for the HVAC system, looked up into the security camera, and pulled the pins on a pair of gas grenades she’d brought with her. They popped, and she just sat there while the restaurant flooded with seven-7. Killed 187 people, walked into the main dining room, and tore out a random throat to write the tag on the wall before she disappeared again. > Sunshine > About the time that happened, Knight Errant, Lone Star, Eagle, and a handful of smaller cop corps formed the Joint MTK Task Force. Yeah, they’re working together; this is that big, apparently. It’s headquartered in Houston, and led by Detective Lieutenant Lydia Bowden, the KE detective who put two rounds into Teresa Castillo’s --- head back in October ’73. Being put together from so many corps, they’ve got unprecedented jurisdictional access wherever one of these killings takes place. They’ve actually caught a couple of the copycat MTKs, though they’ve not caught any of the surviving Halloween killers yet. At least not that they’re telling anyone. > /dev/grrl It’s gotten worse ever since. In April, on the anniversary of the first one, there was a rash of MTK killings on five continents. We somehow avoided a sequel to the Halloween Killings, but tension was ridiculously high all through October. It’s evident that Fear the Dark is out to stir shit up, and they’ve succeeded. And, as we learned a couple of weeks ago, the hits just keep on coming. On the evening of December 7, at a Book Bazaar in downtown Houston for the last signing on the publicity tour for The House of Saint Béla, our good friend Martin de Vries found himself at a new crossroads in his life. For Slamm-0!’s sake, since I know he’s been more absorbed with the Seahawks than with other current events, I’ll attach the following eyewitness video transcript. > Hey! They’re 14-0! Of course I’m paying attention to them! > Slamm-0! > Lame-ass schedule and hype. They don’t have a prayer against the Bears next week. > Sticks //BEGIN FILE// Transcript 74-289A, raw surveillance footage from 07 December 2074 Houston Book Bazaar incident //FRAMING: Three-quarter shot from stage left. Author MARTIN DE VRIES is in front of a table on a small stage, dressed in a gray Berwick suit and smoking a black cigarette. On the table is a mostly full ashtray on his right side and a small stack of books on his left. He is seated on the table’s edge, taking questions from the audience.// //Timestamp 12/07/74 20:41:27// DE VRIES: All right, so who’s next? Yes, you, the young lady with the fuschia hair. AUDIENCE MEMBER: I saw an interview you did back in 2040, and you looked exactly like you do now. Do you have a grotesque portrait hanging in your attic or something? DE VRIES: Ah, jokes about Dorian Gray. Those never get old. [Audience laughs --- politely] No. I’ve long been known to be vain and superficial, and I had the benefit of being wealthy on top of that. I’ve had rather a lot of work done over the years. AUDIENCE MEMBER: You also said that you were going to destroy all vampires. What was that all about? DE VRIES: I was young. Hot-headed. Recently widowed by a vampire. Possessed by a not-inconsiderable obsessive streak. I said a lot of things that brought me to grief. It took me a while, but it finally struck me that I could do better for myself and for my late wife by letting Darrien slay them all and writing down his adventures. AUDIENCE MEMBER: Oh, come now, Dr. de Vries. You’re far too modest. Why, just last week you eliminated, what, half a dozen vampires in downtown Fort Worth? DE VRIES: [Crushes out cigarette, lights another as he stands stiffly] I’m not sure what you’re talking about, miss. AUDIENCE MEMBER: You’re teaching the wrong people to be afraid of the dark, hypocrite! //Timestamp 12/07/74 20:42:44// //AUDIENCE MEMBER draws a Colt Manhunter pistol and fires two rounds into the chest of DE VRIES. At the same time, five other figures coalesce out of the air in front of DE VRIES, also with pistols in hand, and they also open fire on him. DE VRIES is thrown backward over the table, his chest a mangled horror of blood and bullet holes// //Timestamp 12/07/74 20:42:51// [Sounds of audience and other Book Bazaar patrons panicking and running for the exits] //AUDIENCE MEMBER ascends the stage and turns to face the remaining members of the audience as the other shooters surround DE VRIES. One of the shooters approaches DE VRIES and pulls out a jade amulet that had been hidden beneath DE VRIES’ shirt and hands it to AUDIENCE MEMBER// AUDIENCE MEMBER: He’s not dead, not yet! It’s time you knew the truth, though. Martin de Vries is a vampire himself, ladies and gentlemen, and a liar, and a killer. Wait a moment longer, you’ll see! //Timestamp 12/07/74 20:43:06// //Two shooters lift DE VRIES so that his chest can be easily seen. It appears to be sizzling, and then several bullets pop out of his chest. The bullet holes begin healing before everyone’s eyes. Abruptly, DE VRIES opens his eyes; they are glowing a pale silvery-blue color. Further review requires slowing recording to approximately one-fourth speed for the next three recorded seconds. He lashes out with his right foot and disarms AUDIENCE MEMBER, apparently breaking her --- wrist in the process. Simultaneously, he reaches up with both hands and grasps the throats of the two shooters holding him. With the same motion, he snaps their necks. DE VRIES lunges forward, forcing AUDIENCE MEMBER to the ground. He turns, facing the three remaining shooters, and a wave of energy emanates from his extended right hand. It strikes all three; they all scream and collapse. He turns to AUDIENCE MEMBER and draws a dagger from his left sleeve. With his left hand, he grasps AUDIENCE MEMBER by her hair and lifts her up to face him. They snarl at each other; both display fangs prominently// //Timestamp 12/07/74 20:43:09// DE VRIES: You should have killed me outright. //Timestamp 12/07/74 20:43:15// //DE VRIES plunges dagger into AUDIENCE MEMBER’s chest. Their eyes lock and she gasps. A moment later, she screams in terror and her body stiffens. He holds her like this for several minutes; he then releases her hair. She drops to the ground. He reaches down, cleans his dagger on her shirt, and retrieves the amulet that had been taken from him. He surveys the scene; his fangs are still clearly visible.// //Timestamp 12/07/74 20:47:28// DE VRIES: Damn! //DE VRIES vanishes// //END FILE// > Boy. When he comes out, he doesn’t fool around, does he? > Netcat > Where was security during all this? > Sticks > Book Bazaar hires mall cops. Some of them were assisting the evacuation, but according to the logs, most of them saw what was happening via the security cam and prudently waited while more heavily armed backup was en route. By the time they got there, de Vries was long gone. > /dev/grrl To be honest, I’m not completely sure what Fear the Dark was trying to accomplish by sending half a dozen vampires on a suicide mission to out Martin de Vries. It has ratcheted up fear of the Infected; there’s already talk of increasing bounties on vampires in Texas and other states in the CAS. It’s crippled his book sales, of course, though the only person really worried about that is his literary agent. For his part, de Vries has gone to ground, and apparently he moved a whole lot of his money to new accounts. Authorities in Texas moved quickly to seize his assets, and so far they’ve come away with a modest condo in Dallas and about six hundred nuyen for their troubles. > You have to think he was prepared for something like this to happen and had contingency plans in place. He was probably putting those into motion within an hour of the incident. > Fianchetto In the end, though, all that really matters is how quickly we can undo so many years of hard work. Walt Kelly, a cartoonist back in the twentieth century, once wrote, “I have seen the enemy, and he is us.” He’s right, too; we’re doing this to ourselves. We’ve become our own worst enemy, and I don’t know how to make it stop. I can’t imagine it’s going to do anything but get uglier as the new year gets under way. It’s late. I’m going to wrap this one up, I think, and try to get some sleep. Then wake up and wonder if there is any way to fix this. > Belle? Are you okay? > /dev/grrl > Not really, but thanks for asking. > Hannibelle Fractures [ Spoiler ] There were two old men in the park. One of them sat on a bench with a shapeless wool wrap around his slumped shoulders. He threw birdseed to pigeons with a movement that seemed to involve no bending of the elbow whatsoever. There were a few pigeons near him, along with a thick coating of seeds. Most of the local birds, though, seemed to have filled up already and moved on to more interesting things. The second old man wore a simple black turtleneck and jeans. He had a light stubble of grey hair barely concealing the multiple jacks placed at strategic locations on his skull. He walked quickly, and pigeons—and just about any other creature—moved out of his way as he passed. There were some gangers in the park, four of them altogether. Their attention was focused on one of their number who had clearly gotten a new cyberarm. It was a ragged installation, and the red, angry skin at the top of the arm looked like it might be infected. It worked, though, and the gangers were having fun grabbing things for him to crush. Cans, bottles, sticks, and stones were all placed in his new metal claw. All but the stones came out crushed or sliced—the hand wasn’t strong enough to disintegrate stone. As they were laughing about what the hand could do—and trying to grab a squirrel—a woman walked by in a skirt that was something like a leather scarf wrapped around her waist. The ganger with the arm smirked, and his arm moved in a blur. Just like that, he snatched the woman’s skirt, easily removing it. She glared briefly before running off in embarrassment while the gangers roared in laughter. The old man on the bench looked up at the other old man. “That’s a shame,” he said. “A damn shame. Wouldn’t have happened back in our day, would it? Back in our day, we knew how to treat women. We treated them with respect. Not like these kids today, these punks. They’re nothing more than animals.” The second old man didn’t break stride as he walked past. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. There’s never been a golden age where men treated women with respect. We’ve always been pigs. Always will be. And don’t tell me about ‘our day.’ I don’t want to hear it. You want to know when my day is?” FastJack glared as --- he walked by. “Today. Today is my day. Always has been. Always will be.” FastJack dealt with fifteen alerts on his way home. Two more popped up while he was settling into his chair, and he took care of them. Fifteen years ago, he’d found a chair he liked, a chair he could work in and be comfortable no matter what level of VR or hotsim he dove into. He’d bought ten of them. The one he sat on was number six, the previous five having been worn out after years of good service. He idly thought sometimes about what he would do when number ten wore down, but it was never more than an idle thought. He sat down, settled in, and got to work on the one alert he had not addressed during his walk home. He went VR immediately. There had been a time when his VR imagery had some relationship to earth physics and real-world structures, but that day was long past. He floated in the middle of a series of nested globes that were something like wire meshes with a variety of icons that had meaning only to him. He didn’t move or fly around or anything. The spheres expanded or contracted to him, rotating at speeds that were too fast to leave a visual impression. When there was something he wanted, it was in front of him with a rapid spin and a sucking in of the spheres. Some of his peers thought that even this abstract visual representation was a sign of weakness, graphical frou-frous that were relied on by someone whose mind was not strong enough to deal with the naked purity of unadorned text. But FastJack had experimented, and his system worked well with his mind and the way he thought, and that made him faster. Which was the only metric that mattered. Impressing his peers didn’t matter, neither did adhering to some hacker standard of purity. Just sheer speed. He saw the icon for JackPoint and thought about stopping by, but this wasn’t the right time. Later, when there were things to be said. Not now. Not just for comfort. Instead he went to an icon that was a black star. It would be tough to see in the black void of his node except for the glossiness that made it reflect the light of every icon around it. In less time than it takes to flinch from an incoming fist, the icon was in front of him and he was moving into it, crossing to another node. In this node, code was arranged according to its function, something like a concrete poem. The code providing a connection to other nodes was laid out in lines disappearing into the fake horizon. The basic structural code formed a sphere surrounding FastJack, who was there invisibly, without an icon. And functional code darted here and there, doing the things it was programmed to do. It all looked like it was functioning properly—except for the lump of code hunched near the bottom of the sphere. FastJack was not given to anthropomorphism, but he could swear the lump was quivering --- and whimpering. He drifted to it, finally slowing from the instantaneous speeds he’d been using since he logged on. Looking at it from a bit of a distance, seeing how the damaged code squirmed and wriggled on its surface, would help him understand what it was doing and what happened to it. He scanned the code faster than he would have been able to if he were burdened with his physical eyes. It was wrong, in so many ways. The code he’d implanted in the node had so many self-destruct commands that it should have disintegrated into Matrix dust the moment anyone got the slightest crack in it. Just touching it should have destroyed it. Tampering with it, altering it beyond comprehension, should have been impossible. And he should know—for decades, he had stood as the foremost expert on what was possible and impossible in the Matrix. Something caught his eye, a tag at the end of a squirming piece of code. A thoroughly unnecessary piece of code. He took note of it, memorized it in half a blink, then kept looking. There was another one, spliced in the middle of some of the corrupted code. Then a third, drifting aimlessly on its own through the twisted mess. He took those three pieces and combined them and recombined them in ways that never showed up in any graphical form. Occasionally a box would appear in front of him with a question mark, asking if he agreed with a particular interpretation of the data, or asking whether a decrypting algorithm should be nudged one way or another. It took seconds of time in the virtual realm, less than that in meatspace, and then he had his answer. A simple message left in the ruined text. A taunt. I am better than you. John Wesley Hardin might have been the fastest gun in the west. Killed maybe forty-two men. Went down at the age of forty-two, shot in the back of the head while playing dice. Wild Bill Hickok, legendary lawman, was shot in the back at the age of thirty-nine while playing poker. Jesse James was shot by --- the coward Robert Ford at age thirty-four, hit in the back of the head while cleaning a picture. He wasn’t wearing his guns at the time. Then there was Butch Cassidy. Surrounded by Bolivian soldiers when he was forty-two years old, engaged in a firefight that lasted for hours. Ended up dead with a bullet in his head, probably fired by either himself or the Sundance Kid to take them out of their misery from the other bullet wounds they’d suffered. The duels FastJack fought weren’t quite as deadly as those, but he’d be a fool if he didn’t learn from the past. Never get distracted. Never be unarmed. Always make sure your skills are honed and ready. And go out on your own terms. People had come gunning for him for decades. One way or the other, they’d learned their lesson. Sometimes the price they paid was light, a virtual slap on the wrist. Other people were still paying, with pain buried deep in their head that would never go away. He knew how important it was that people suffer in proportion to their crimes. He knew you couldn’t let slights go unavenged. He knew how to get payback. That’s how he had stayed on top all this time. So this taunt had to be answered. This was not a situation where he could just walk away and be the better man. Some code of his own—his property, the output of his creativity—had been irreparably broken. That’s not something you just let lie. His analysis started even before he had decoded the message. Burglars leave fingerprints, writers leave wordprints, and hackers leave their own particular impressions in the code they work. He had bots scanning the code, comparing it to every database he could access, including his own private collections of hacker fingerprints. It wasn’t an exact science—hackers sometimes changed, sometimes matured, or sometimes purposely tried to disguise their prints—but he hoped it would put him on the right trail. By the time he was out of VR and aware of his chair, he knew his search had not come up with anything. Either he was dealing with an entirely new hacker, or one of the aces out there had gotten really good at disguising their tracks. The former was difficult to believe—it would be like a high school quarterback walking into the pro game and breaking every single-season passing record in the book. You just don’t go from obscurity to the top that fast. But it was still possible, and he had to cast a wide net. It was time to put out feelers. It wasn’t so much that FastJack didn’t know how Slamm-0! got his icon to slouch the way it did; he just wondered why the boy would spend so much time on something so minor. Why devote so much time to altering your own icon when you could be, say, hacking Kenneth Brackhaven’s icon during the virtual feed of some major address? The younger generation—like all younger generations before it—seemed too --- self-involved for his taste. But he had business to worry about. They were at one of the virtual sports bars Slamm-0! liked, surrounded by feeds of dozens of sporting events across the world and icons of females with anatomically improbable figures wrapped in black-and-white striped shirts. No noise of the surrounding bar reached them, and nothing they were saying would be heard by anyone else. “Have you heard about anyone new on the scene?” FastJack said without preamble. The boy knew better than to hassle him about his lack of small talk. “Yeah, there’s a little bit of a boom going on. De la Mar and her corporate goons have everyone a little nervous about where things are going, so people are lashing out. She’s inspiring a new generation of hackers, all by herself.” “Anyone especially notable?” Slamm-0! idly twirled a dreadlock with his index finger. “A lot of it’s kids’ stuff. Tagging her nodes, altering the GridGuide routes in her cars, that sort of thing. They’re having fun, but most of them aren’t showing anything special. Though this one, Witchhazel, shows some potential.” “In what way?” Slamm-0! leaned forward, emphasizing his words with large, round gestures. “She’s kind of got a hacker judo thing going on, you know? You attack her, she turns your strength against you. IC comes lunging at her, she pivots its code so that it carries on, and its momentum, for lack of a better word, has it barreling through its own node. It’s effective and pretty subtle. She doesn’t leave much of a fingerprint.” “Tell me some of the things she’s done.” “Okay, but it won’t be easy to …” He trailed off with a crooked smile. “Sorry, forgot who I was talking to. List coming your way.” A new window popped up in front of FastJack, and then FastJack was gone. While a variety of bots collected information on Witchhazel’s jobs, Fastjack tracked down Witchhazel herself. And at that moment, in the middle of it, he didn’t feel he had lost a step. The bare bones of the Matrix passed and flickered behind him, flashing in ways that would be incomprehensible to anyone who did not understand the Matrix the way he did. He sorted through false leads, disguised trails, dodges, --- nodes hidden from all but the most observant hackers. He flew through the Matrix and no one saw him—at most they noticed a brief flash, or felt a virtual brush of a breeze on their cheek. If they were skilled enough to notice. That was when he noticed he had a tail. It was invisible, noiseless, undetectable if you were addicted to your normal senses. But FastJack’s Matrix sense was better honed than most people’s sight, and he could feel it out there. He took several pathways through odd connections that no one else would take, and the presence was still behind him. He was definitely being followed. He had fifteen different ways to shake a tail that he could execute with half a thought. Anyone who was not an A-list hacker would be thrown off by them. He executed them. He sent out a quick ping. The tail was still there. He then observed it more carefully. It wasn’t Slamm-0!, Glitch, Pistons, or Netcat. It wasn’t Puck—which was too bad, because a legitimate chance to slap that boy down would not be a bad thing. It wasn’t anyone he knew. That meant he could punish them. The next wave of assaults he sent at it was worse. He blasted feedback through the Matrix that would fry the incautious and at very least slow up the skilled. The tail kept coming. He still couldn’t see what was tailing him, but he didn’t need to. He just needed to hit it. I will not be yours you cannot find me. The words rippled through the Matrix without a sound. FastJack couldn’t say how he heard them; they were just there. It was a bold challenge—bold and stupid. Messages were a trail, and he could send something back on that same trail. Not words, but another blow. So he did. And was hit by a pain in his head like a monofilament --- wire had been threaded through the middle of his skull. He imagined his physical body was doubling over in pain, but his Matrix self was firm and alert. And ready to defend itself. That was nothing because you are nothing. Your skills are primitive. “Trash talk is the refuge of the desperate,” FastJack muttered. The pain in his head was still piercing, but he could tell he was getting closer to Witchhazel. And if these were her defenses coming after him, maybe she was the right target. Because she clearly was pretty good at this. You are outside the Matrix. You intrude in it, and you are clumsy. You will never be a true part of it. “So what? It’s a tool, not my home. I use it. I don’t live in it.” The thing seemed to be paying attention to him, so he kept talking, hoping it was listening. Any distraction he could throw its way might help. You don’t know the Matrix, not really. You don’t know what it is. “What is it?” It’s this. Pain slashed through FastJack’s head, and the Matrix briefly became nothing but blurred stars. And this. There was a rushing sound and a tremendous feeling of pressure. FastJack felt like his thoughts were collapsing on themselves, becoming a mental black hole. Then he exploded. “No,” he said. “It’s this.” And every bit of knowledge FastJack had about the Matrix gathered into a ball and darted toward the invisible voice. That is what I know. Everything was whirling. The commands FastJack had sent sucked out a lot of energy, and as a result he had lost his bearings. He couldn’t quite place himself now, but he didn’t worry about it since there was no real “where” in the Matrix. There was only forward. He didn’t need to know a specific place, he just needed to keep moving. He was still in pain, but his enemy was still out there. So he traveled on, ignoring it, ready to strike back. A wave of pain. Biofeedback at levels that would cripple almost anyone. He could only hope he would emerge with his faculties intact. But he wasn’t leaving without making sure this other hacker suffered as much as he was. He unleashed a wave of bots to tear anything near him apart, bit by bit. Everything was thrown out, everything in a single attack. Lights flashed, and FastJack was pretty sure all of them were his own neurons --- sparking in pain. He didn’t have a single point of awareness in the Matrix anymore. He was spread across it. He was here, he was there, he was near, he was far, he was everywhere and all of him was in pain. An arc of energy connected all parts of himself, shocking him with pain, making the muscles in his distant body clench. And in an instant, a single instant, he remembered. He remembered going to the node, finding his own code, altering it beyond repair and leaving a taunting note, even though he didn’t remember who he was leaving it for. He remembered the chase, the one that had just happened, both sides of it, chasing and being chased. He could remember the defenses he’d unleashed and what it felt to be hit by them. He could remember the thrill at still being alive and standing after the attacks, and the anger that his attacks had not completely taken apart his opponent. And this mass of memory made only one thing clear—that he had to get off the Matrix and stay off. A house divided against itself cannot stand. Wyatt Earp died when he was eighty years old. At home. In bed. A rare enough luxury for gunfighters and shadowrunners both. FastJack had only one plan in his life—to stay on top forever. And now something was desperately wrong, and he didn’t understand what it was. It was bad enough when the Matrix crashed, but this was worse. The one tool he had relied on his whole life, his mind, was turning on him, and he had no idea why. It was more than a lack of control—it was like a cancer, something inside himself fighting him. Destroying him. Without knowing what it was, he didn’t know what to do about it. All he knew was he could not, for now, be what he was. And that whatever was happening might push him to the point where the only decision he had left was how he would go out. [EOF] Pulling the Trigger [ Spoiler ] Posted by: Sunshine I’m going to start with a flashback here, because I think this transcript is the best way to get a feel for the chaos that erupted when things went down. I have permission from all the involved parties, so let’s look at what happened when Aztechnology put its plans in motion. /Private chat / /User registered: Pistons /User registered: Netcat > I still couldn’t believe the look on his face. His favorite Seadog jersey ruined! I warned him not to feed the little guy Big Rhino hot wings again. He’s never gonna get the puke stain out. > Netcat > I wish I could’ve seen it. So how pissed is Fred right now? > Pistons > He’s mourning in private over it. I hope he won’t make the same mistake again, but I doubt it. Honestly, after everything that’s happened this year, I’m just glad to be home. > Netcat > Yeah. It’s been a mess. I just hope things finally calm … wait, I got a message ping. Make that multiple pings. > Pistons > Me too. Oh damn, I just got a message about … > Netcat > Hold that thought. I’m expanding our chat parameters and sending out multiple invites. I think the drek just hit the fan. Again. Drek, I really need to keep my mouth shut. Hold on, it’s going to get crowded here in a hurry. > Pistons /User entered: Orbital DK /User entered: Slamm-0! /User entered: FastJack /User entered: Glitch > People, we have a bit of a problem. Tell them what you told me, DK. > FastJack > Approximately ten minutes ago, someone hacked and took control of multiple observation, communication, and weapon satellites. Both the Grid Overwatch Division and Space Rescue Service just went into full counter-attack mode and are locking down --- anyone they suspect was part of the attack. Several networks, including the Asgard Data Haven, just got their lights punched out. I can’t get a hold of several contacts up here, and those I could indicate this is a coordinated attack. For what purpose, I don’t know. > Orbital DK > Do we have confirmation on which sats have been disabled? > Glitch > No, and right now I’m running through several backdoors just to be able to talk here. I’m practically blind! > Orbital DK > I’m checking with someone I know right now who may know something. > FastJack > DK, you said ”weapons” satellites. Do we know if someone now has the ability to , oh, I don’t know, start dropping fucking Thor shots on our heads? > Slamm-0! > I don’t know about that, but the SRS has initiated Alert Status: Alpha. That means orbital weapons are compromised. > Orbital DK > Fucking lovely. > Slamm-0! > OK, we need to start rallying the troops and getting people online. We need information and fast. DK, you know what I --- [part 3 missing] --- did they get in so fast? OK, we’re good! > Glitch /User entered: Sunshine > Sorry for the delay, things are getting busy to say the least. > Sunshine > Oh … my … ghost. Everyone, I got a hold of the feed DK tried to send. I got an image… > Netcat > Oh, shit. This is gonna get ugly. > Slamm-0! > Are we SURE this is legit? IS IT CLEAN? > Glitch > I’m back and it is … it’s ugly there. Things are warping. I’m not feeling well. > Winterhawk > Yeah Glitch, it’s clean. I scrubbed it and checked for any tattle-tales. > Netcat > Damn, it finally happened. Is anyone else thinking WWIII has just started? > Pistons > I just got a message from my sources down south. Yeah, it’s true. I can confirm that approximately ten minutes ago, previously unknown units from the Aztlan military engaged Sirrurg. > Sunshine > OK, focus everyone. We need to get the word out and make contact with the other JackPointers; find out what’s going on out there…and how bad it REALLY is. > FastJack > That conversation happened on October 3, 2074 at approximately 1500 Zulu. At the time, none of us here at JackPoint had any idea what was coming. The first few years of the war were nothing but a build-up for --- part 5 missing] --- his people better. Even with the support of Aztechnology, President Silva knew that the Aztlan military was incapable of victory as long as the threat of the great dragon and his followers remained. President Silva wasn’t the only one who felt this way; fear of Sirrurg clouded the judgment the Aztlan military as well. Even spectacular victories lost their luster, and several times opportunities to advance were ordered to hold. While not openly discussed, this fear started to poison the morale of the military as the leadership lost faith in its troops, and vice versa. This is one of the main reasons why Horizon’s PR campaigns were initially effective against Aztlan, as the average solider had stopped believing in his country. Since President Silva was a former solider, the situation was not lost on him. He knew that by eliminating Sirrurg, he would remove the biggest threat his country faced while restoring hope and pride in his people and military. When it was finally approved, Operation: Marauder became the highest military priority and took precedence over everything else. To Silva, the horrendous losses incurred during the multiple Amazonian counter-assaults were considered acceptable and even necessary to maintain Marauder’s integrity. For a time, many wondered if this obsessive drive was a sign of madness in the president. Before the success of finding Sirrurg’s base, some of Aztlan’s leaders started to doubt whether preparations for Marauder were sustainable. Adding to the frustration: Several of the anti-dragon weapon programs were faltering. While a few were promising, the projections still showed they could not provide the knockout capability Aztlan needed. Several times, Silva’s advisors, the military high command, and even the priesthood of the Path of the Sun tried to convince him to scale back Marauder and focus on the situation at hand. When he refused, a small vocal minority wondered if it was time to replace their president. It wasn’t until early 2074 when Aztechnology CEO --- Flavia de la Rosa met with President Silva, informing the president that one of the weapons projects, Blue-227, was viable. Aztlan finally had the weapon Marauder needed. Now all they had to do was find Sirrurg. > Ah ha! I knew that sounded familiar! I just found what I was looking for thanks to that little bit. OK, here is the download: Blue-227 is the project code name any weapons developed for the Sirrurg Task Force. I first saw a reference for it when an associate of mine snagged some extra paydata during a run in Panama. It was the first program to show some actual promise. To prevent data on it from leaking out, the entire project was transferred out of weapons R&D and given a medical research designation. It was labeled as a new battlefield trauma treatment. Think of it as an instant battle dressing in salve form. I admit this is some heavy stuff because even I’m having a hard time understanding it. Trying to read the formula that explains the biochemical reaction on the base RNA sequences still gives me a headache. Dammit, I’m a street doc not a biochemist! > Butch > I think I can help. I’ve also seen information on Blue-227, but I’ve been holding on to it for my own reasons. But basically, Blue-227 is a biochemical weapon (no nanotech, sorry everyone) that targets the proteins found in dragon blood. Depending on the specific chemical mixture and how much oxygen is present, it will either act as a coagulant or anticoagulant. > KAM > In other words, this stuff will either cause a dragon to bleed out or turn their blood to cement. And Butch, don’t worry about not understanding the formula. I had to ask another associate of mine and he explained that a large part of it was magically based. But that part’s a mystery, as it’s not necessary to the overall formula. Oh, and you’re welcome by the way, doctor. > The Smiling Bandit TARGET AQUIRED But just before the planned assault, sources on the ground discovered that the great dragon was not present. The original plan had called for special air and ground task forces to ambush Sirrurg while still at his base, but this was no longer possible and the entire operation was now in jeopardy. Refusing to waste an opportunity or lose the initiative, the high command decided to move on to an alternate part of the plan: to try to draw Sirrurg out instead. On October 3, 2074 at approximately --- 1350 Zulu, after several other units all over Aztlan were put on alert and mobilized, Aztlan Special Forces augmented by several specialist units (that’s military jargon for shadowrunners and mercenaries) began phase one of the plan and assaulted Sirrurg’s base head-on. The base itself wasn’t Sirrurg’s base of operations in North America; it was one of his “mini-hordes.” Once the security illusions and wards were breeched, the entrance to the stronghold just looked like a large hole. Heavy assault troops from the 23rd, 9th, and 155th stormed the entrance, attacking with heavy weapons fire backed with support from the magicians of the task force. The tactics employed were similar to what police/security HRT teams use when entering an unknown building. Reports say that after the initial breech, the troops only took minor casualties, mostly from the magicians suffering from severe drain. Initial contact occurred three minutes and six seconds after the breech when a squad from the 9th engaged a group of drakes and dracoforms in an antechamber just off the main hallway. According to the Aztlan squad leader (translated from Aztlan Spanish), “we engaged the targets with automatic weapons fire until they no longer moved. We then removed their heads just to make sure.” The next fifteen minutes were relatively uneventful, and the Task Force began a thorough sweep of the base. Around minute sixteen, all hell broke loose. This is where the details get a bit vague. In his briefing, General Vega said the Task Force engaged a security force including the usual dracoforms, drakes, a lot of spirits (mostly air elementals … his words, not mine), and at least two adult dragons. After a brief but intense engagement, the entire base was cleared. Before people start rapid-firing questions and ask “how the hell did they do it,” I think General Vega answered it in response to a question from Jean-Claude Priault of S-K: “After confronting the adult dragons in the southwest corridor, various members of the 9th Detachment, with support from elements of the 14th, employed their main weapons and began a holding action while the weapons took effect. Once the targets were down, they were finished off and the task force moved on.” > Oh shit. He said that with a straight face? I’ll ask the obvious question: Does anyone else think that these guys did a test run with Blue-227 to see if it worked before the big show? Show of hands if you think “oh fuck yeah!” > Slamm-0! At this point, Vega doesn’t say much more about the raid other than the Task Force initiated the next part of the operation. The troops removed the wounded and dead, and placed --- [part 9 missing] --- after the initial Aztlan attack, observation satellites spotted Sirrurg making his way along Aztlan’s west coast at high speed before veering out to sea, presumably to gather strength for his magic. As part of Marauder, Aztlan had three separate task forces ready to deal with Sirrurg once he appeared. Air Task Force Two, secretly based out of Guadalajara, was the first to intercept the great dragon roughly forty kilometers west of Acapulco. Air Task Forces One and Three were also scrambled with Three ordered to move in immediately to support Task Force Two. Task Force One held station. The Aztlan carrier Huey Tlatooni and her battle group, having set sail days earlier, also made their way towards the engagement zone. > In orbit, a handful of Aztechnology hackers co-opted several observation satellites in an effort to keep the rest of the world, especially Horizon and Amazonia, in the dark. Earlier in the year, Aztechnology lost several of their own sats to sabotage, so this time they decided to call in a little favor from Evo and used their satellites to conduct operations. One of the Aztlan’s main targets was Horizon’s Eagle-Eye II space observation platform. When it wasn’t taking nice pictures of faraway galaxies, it had its optics turned Earth-side and did a lot of spying for Horizon and Amazonia. Using “borrowed” codes from the Space Rescue Service (you know, the ones that in times of emergency can be used to take control of any satellite in orbit), Aztechnology used Eagle-Eye II to help coordinate the attack against Sirrurg. And to add insult to injury, they also made it look like “terrorists” had taken control of the platform and were going to dump the sat into the atmosphere. An SRS cutter eventually responded and secured the platform, pending a full investigation. Seems the SRS and GOD don’t like it when someone uses their own codes against them. They went batshit crazy and blacked out the rest of the sat-network, then slammed several other “suspected” terrorist networks as a precaution, which also benefitted Aztlan. I’m still pissed that the Asgard Data Haven got smacked in the crossfire, and I’m still pissed that someone smacked me out of Eagle-Eye II like a red-headed stepchild. Whoever did it better hope I never find them. > Orbital DK > Damn! I knew it would be nice to get a hold of one of those codes! I bet they’ll change all the security protocols now. Some days I just can’t get a break. > Pistons The first wave of fighters and attack craft from Task Force Two barely slowed Sirrurg. The attack started off as planned but quickly devolved into clusterfuck of a dogfight. Only one pilot managed to get a shot off before Sirrurg’s fangs and claws destroyed him. The second wave of craft from Task Force --- Two, composed mostly of drones and their TAC-C control craft, had better luck and used the chaos of the battle to score several hits with their main weapons. > Bozhe Moi! Can we just call it for what it is? We all know by now that the Aztlan Task Forces used the Blue-227 weapon. I’ve seen the specs. And I am also willing to pay top nuyen for anyone able to deliver an intact sample of the weapon or its delivery system. Will pay triple for both. > Red Anya By this time, air units from Task Force Three arrived on station and joined the battle. New waves of previously unseen aircraft engaged Sirrurg. Quickly adapting to the situation, battle commanders spread out and attacked the great dragon from multiple vectors in an attempt to keep him off balance. By now the sheer volume of the attackers was difficult to control and coordinate, and the troops pulled back to regroup. Sirrurg took advantage of the brief chaos to send some of his spirits into battle and dive into the waves of drones still hounding him, easily destroying them before he moved on to some of the manned aircraft. Sirrurg’s spirits destroyed several of the regrouping aircraft, but Task Force magicians turned most of the spirits back. Soon after the initial engagement, Sirrurg decided to get a better position and headed for land. As the aircraft task force regrouped for another wave of assaults, naval vessels moving in from the Pacific hounded Sirrurg with missile and gunfire. Accounts claim that a lucky railgun shot from the destroyer Chupacabra scored a direct hit on Sirrurg’s left shoulder near the wing joint, which was the first time that Aztlan was able to draw blood from the great dragon. This caused him to crash into the earth approximately thirty miles north of Acapulco. The remnants of Task Forces Two and Three renewed their attacks and launched several salvos of their main weapons. > Not to interrupt Sunshine’s --- fine documentation of the event, but there are a few pertinent missing details. I have orbital footage of the attack. In the footage I noticed several dark swept-wing shapes that were part of the attack. Several of them went toe-to-toe with Sirrurg and almost outmaneuvered them. Are these those Bloodwing fighters Rigger X mentioned awhile back? Anyone else who wants to see the footage here’s the . > Orbital DK > Visually, they match the craft specs I have, but if this is them, then I’ve seriously underestimated their performance capabilities. In that footage, several of these craft dodged melee attacks from Sirrurg and were taken out at distance. This could be a game-changer in the weapons business. > Rigger-X > Is it because the pilots are that good, or could this Blue-227 have something to do with it? > Turbo Bunny > Hard to say. We don’t have enough data on Blue-227 to know how long it would need to take effect. But I doubt that lucky shot helped Sirrurg’s cause. > Butch > Has anyone else noticed that throughout the battle, some of the drones were even older than Bull and FastJack. It’s like Aztlan emptied their warehouses to throw everything they had at the big wyrm. I’ve seen the specs on the Falconer TAC-C system (cred’s already in the account, X), and badass as it is (I’m so getting one), there is no way they could have successfully coordinated as many drones as they fielded. It’s like they were ordered to fly right into Sirrurg’s face. > Clockwork Now on the ground, Sirrurg was squarely on the defensive. As the battle resumed, Sirrurg let loose and attacked with his magic. Several more spirits, specifically air, attempted to create storms in the area to thwart the air attacks. Heavy-lift aircraft created instant firebases and several mobile artillery pieces came to the fight. Naval assets also --- contributed to the artillery barrage form offshore. Several times Sirrurg took to the sky and obliterated any Aztlans who crossed him, but he was unable to leave the engagement zone. Airborne controllers had several waves of craft stacked at different altitudes and at various positions around the engagement. As soon as Sirrurg attempted a breakthrough, the controllers simply vectored in other craft to cut him off; all the while Sirrurg was under constant barrage and bombardment. On his fifth failed attempt to take wing, Aztlan pilots and spotters confirmed that Sirrurg was wounded, even bleeding profusely, and his wings were completely torn to shreds. One pilot even reported that the great dragon’s right eye was gone. Sirrurg was hurt, but Task Forces Two and Three were mauled. Over half of their drones and nearly as many aircraft were either destroyed or forced to disengage after sustaining significant damage. At least thirty pilots were forced to punch out over the Pacific and two command and control aircraft were also downed thanks to enemy spirits. Still, both sides pressed on, neither one offering any quarter. Sirrurg leapt several times into the air to attack passing craft, but already he was starting to slow down. Approximately ninety-eight minutes after the land engagement began, reinforcements from Task Force One and Sirrurg’s followers arrived. Coming in from the north, both groups made contact twenty kilometers from the engagement zone and ferociously tore at each other as they arrived. One group from Sirrurg’s reinforcements also broke off and destroyed the temporary firebases while another forced the Aztlan naval elements to withdraw. The tide of the battle appeared --- to be shifting and the on-scene air commander requested permission to withdraw, but he was ordered to continue to the last man. As Sirrurg and his followers continued to tear into the Aztlan forces, unexpected reinforcements from local Aztlan regular military, local militia, or anyone with an air vehicle, heavy weapons, and a grudge against the great dragon joined the fray. Despite receiving no orders to engage and the secret nature of the entire operation, these groups threw themselves into the battle. All semblance of coordination disappeared as they sky filled with dragons, dracoforms, spirits, state-of-the art aircraft, T-birds, drones, and aircraft that hadn’t flown in decades. Ground troops also poured into the area, shooting at anything that wasn’t metahuman. With so much weapons fire and magic use, a blue fog formed in the engagement zone. Wind kicked up from all the air spirits in play and for a few minutes the jet stream was even temporarily altered, scattering the blue mist into the clouds above. All over the battlefield, aircraft of both kinds crashed as they did as much damage to themselves as they did to the enemy. Several locals attempted suicide attacks on Sirrurg, but none were successful. Bloody and battered, Sirrurg attempted to end the conflict with his entropy powers, just as he did at Cali. He ordered his followers away and all spirits to take him into the clouds. The remnants of all three Task Forces attempted to pursue, but they were either too damaged or were out of ammunition to continue. A few kilometers up, Sirrurg began his rite. Reports state that the dragon began to glow bright blue and there was a flash of light—an energy discharge half a kilometer wide that blinded anyone looking in that direction. The shockwave snapped back in on itself, killing anyone within the radius. The dragon fell to the earth when his spirits were destroyed, and he did not move. Those outside of the blast were ordered to move in and investigate, but before they could, a large storm formed over the battle site. Strong winds kicked up and prevented any aircraft from getting into the area. Witnesses say at least two gigantic, mist-obscured --- figures were seen rushing effortlessly through the storm toward the engagement area. Then just as suddenly as it began, the storm was over. By the time Aztlan forces were able to investigate, all they found were several dead bodies, broken hardware, and an indentation with burn mark in the ground where Sirrurg had crashed. > Holy shit, where do we begin? > Slamm-0! > I’d like to know why in the hell Sirrurg responded like that. I mean, his past few operations were calculated, well planned, and generally solid. This seems totally out of character. He practically walked right into Aztlan’s trap, wings wide open. > Stone > You want to know how dragons think? You and everyone else! Just a shot in the dark here, but I’d say that when the Azzies blew up part of his horde, it was a giant frag-you and a direct challenge to Sirrurg. Up until then he was invulnerable, but the attack showed even he had his weaknesses. And for whatever reason he felt he needed to take care of it himself. Either that or he was so fragged off he didn’t care about making a plan. > Pistons > Looks like Blue-227 was successful. Pardon me for sounding naïve, but if it works against a dragon’s blood, how did they introduce it? > /dev/ grrl > I’d say a combination of specialized ordinance and Trojan-horse drones. To get an initial dose into him, they probably let him smash a few and breathe it in. Then pounded him as much as they could with both regular and modified ordnance to see if they could at least wound him. > Glasswalker > Given what we now know about their tactics, it makes sense. You can’t really sneak up --- on dragons, so what you need is a concentrated and overwhelming force. Trick is, you still have to overwhelm a dragon. I can understand why Aztlan did everything to put Sirrurg in the position they did, but what about his magic? I would have guessed that would have been the greatest concern: how do you shut down a dragon’s magic? > Am-mut > I … I honestly don’t know. The amount of power necessary would be astronomical, not to mention it requires extreme precision. Is Aztlan even capable of such a thing? > Frosty > It is if they combine the power of the Sextant of Worlds, a locus, and then power the whole damn thing with the sacrifice of about a thousand. Yes, it was possible. > Rifleman > What?! When did the Sextant come into play? I knew every asshole and his uncle were looking for it and it was rumored to be in Aztlan hands, but now you’re telling me that they had it all the time? How the hell do they hide something like that? And no offense, but how much do you actually know about it? > Snopes > I don’t know, yes, I don’t know, and quite a lot actually. > Rifleman >Oh no, you’re not getting off the hook that easy, mister. You can’t just come in here and drop a bombshell like that and then get all mysterious on us. You better spill what you know or by gods I’ll <1.9 MP deleted by SYSOP> > Frosty > Down, girl. Take the threats elsewhere. > Bull > Frosty, I’m sorry but I’ve already said too much. I’m only saying anything now because I know people will follow up and find the truth for themselves. > Rifleman > You’re not related to Man-Of-Many-Names are you? > Slamm-0! > What we really need to worry about isn’t how this ritual was conducted, but just what the full effects of the attempted rite are going to be. In the short run, I think it’s safe to say that it was designed to stop Sirrurg from using his entropy power by reflecting it back at him. I wonder what would’ve happened if the rite went off as planned. > Arête > Hey guys, am I the only one who remembered that magical component of --- [part 17 missing] Princes [ Spoiler ] FIRST AMONG EQUALS Posted by: Tarislar Telegit thelemsa, Jackpoint, and I thank you again for allowing me to share some knowledge with you here. We are all well aware of how important politics can be, especially to those of us living in society’s shadow. One nation in particular has only just recently concluded their elections, perpetually several months out of step with their neighbors. > Or several centuries, given the goofy titles and stuff they use. > Slamm-0! We recently had a rather in-depth conversation about the political situation in Tír Tairngire, but their January elections have changed the balance of power with potentially dramatic ramifications. High Prince Larry Zincan, well loved by many of his people, has refused to again alter the nation’s laws to allow for him to serve a third term. The Tír constitution only limits the service of the High Prince, however, and every regular Prince on the Council was able to campaign once again. > Prince Joubert was quite vocal when she encouraged Zincan to remain in power. She even sponsored the bill herself. > Winterhawk > Zincan’s not doing so well physically, and while I’ve been pulling for the old man to survive his term, he likely wouldn’t have survived another five years with the pressures of office (not to mention the periodic assassination attempts) even if he was allowed back. Joubert probably would have piggybacked his popularity and used the mourning nation’s gratitude to angle for the spot herself when the old ork kicked the bucket. Likely would’ve worked, too. > Thorn > I was about to call you cynical, since Joubert seems to be on the up-and-up, but then I remembered we’re talking about elves and politicians. > Bull With the highest position in the land unclaimed and every current Prince able to maneuver for it, the election was rather … spirited. Every Prince was, to some extent, angling for the pinnacle of > That’s not frightening at all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to try not contemplating the possible correlations of a corp trying to make mythology --- Tír power rather than maintaining only their current seats. Each of them played to their already-loyal bases of voters and influence, save of course the always-eccentric Prince Jaeger (who seems to maintain popularity for popularity’s sake). Taylor appealed to Peace Force members and their families; Parris catered to the conservative hardliners; Demarco held power through unprecedented campaign funding and securing the bulk of the human vote; Joubert and Foster called out to the underclasses and metaracial minorities; and so on. The total campaign costs of each Prince are still a matter of government secrecy, but there is no denying that those numbers must have been astronomical. > Many of them had fresh campaign funds available to them, thanks to generous “donations” offered from outside of the country. Tracing the money is enlightening, of course, as we’ve discussed elsewhere. It’s also intriguing to calculate what percentage of the laundered funds went missing while the money changed hands between the Illuminate Order and various Telestrian subsidiaries. It’s rather convenient for all involved that the vote still didn’t go the IOND’s way—almost like all those naughty Princes knew how the Council vote would go and just laughed about it all the way to the bank. > Frosty As campaigns intensified, the criminal element and other unsavory sorts came into play. While individual Princes lobbied for advantages over one another, alliances were made, trusts were betrayed, secrets were uncovered, and voters were motivated one way or another. Rumors swirled about official state operatives being used for personal gain. The so-called “Moonlight Thorns,” long an open secret, were supposedly used as spies and saboteurs for one Prince or another, sharing campaign secrets, sabotaging electronics, or unearthing secrets to be held over a rival’s head. > I thought you guys said those Thorn dudes—not our Thorn dude—were bodyguards. Isn’t this sort of like, I dunno, the UCAS President sending the Secret Service to do his dirty work? Don’t these Princes have someone better to send on their spy work? > /dev/grrl > I imagine they were sending that “someone better,” too. > Fianchetto > The existence of the Moonlight Thorns is something the Council of Princes officially acknowledges (and each Prince is able to have one officially assigned to them for additional security, if they wish), but the membership is still highly confidential. So they’ll cop to the group’s existence, but --- they’re not in the habit of advertising who’s in it or what they’re sanctioned to do. Even the open operatives of the group, the ones who accept assignments to publicly protect Council members, are habitually disguised, magically or otherwise, when on assignment. > Thorn Independent contractors, even some from outside of the country, were also no doubt involved in these operations. Such political maneuvering is nothing new to shadowrunners. More troubling, however, was that various parties with no Princely affiliation—and the restraint that comes with it—undertook similar covert operations. Remnants of the Rinelle ke’Tesrae were hard at work in the weeks and months leading up to the election, turning their attention primarily to Tír citizens. The ke’Tesrae occasionally targeted Princes, and many of the more progressive Princes were directly attacked. Thousands of non-elves were granted full citizenships and SINs in the wake of the Coup and High Prince Zincan’s ascension to the office, and sadly, many elven holdouts remain bitter about their inclusion in the nation’s newfound democracy. A whole generation of orks idolized Zincan and eagerly looked forward to voting in his successor when they came of age, but untold numbers of metaracist elves feared that day and vowed to keep it from happening. Many a Cara’Sir and Malek’thas street ran red as ork and elf alike fell to smuggled weapons and combat magic. > Some of the ork rights activists are smuggling their old anti-Saito weapons up from NorCal to help out. Heavier weaponry has been funneled in through Cascade Ork territory, from who-knows-what external enemies the Tír has gathered. During the Rinelle troubles years ago, half the NAN was cheering, and I’m sure they’re egging on this simmering race war, too. I heard the Cascade Orks are even offering “friend prices” on the occasional smuggling run instead of milking the situation for all it’s worth. > Turbo Bunny > Shamans from their tribe are lending their own support against these genocidal combat mages. There are those whose totems call them to protect kin, no matter where they might be found. > Many-of-Many-Names Few places in this modern world are truly peaceful, but the Tír has been particularly bloody these last few months. Not since the Coup has the country seen this level of violence with such regularity. No one knows how much the Princes have sponsored or supported and how much stems from independent groups pursuing their own aims, but many of the Princes have shamefully tried to silence their rivals through bloodshed and fear. To the credit of the Tír’s people, however, the opposite occurred: the voter turnout in this recent election was the highest ever recorded. > That’s largely due to the widespread SIN registrations from ten years ago. The Tír has never had so many potential voters before, so it’s only natural they’d never have so many show up to vote. > Kay St. Irregular --- GRIMMY SAYS [19:03/5/JANUARY/2075] Hi there! I’m Grimmy the Grimoire with another Election 2075 live update! On behalf of Prince Jaeger, who we just interviewed live at the Rockerbox, we thank you for your interest in your homeland’s noble political process! The High Prince, the Council, and the Star Chamber thank all lawful citizens for exercising their voter privileges today! Two hours after polling centers have closed and with a majority of ridings reporting, here are the current standings from today’s election, from highest vote-getter to lowest! Telestrian, M. Parris, E. Joubert, A. Taylor, C. Demarco, M. Rex Gant, J. [null vote] Zincan, L. [/null vote] Van den Berg, J. Foster, J. Jaeger, K. Telestrian, L. Telestrian, T. MacBain, G. Kearny, M. Thibault, D. Telestrian, S. Jameson, J. Telestrian, R. Check back soon for continued election coverage and further reports on today’s fatalities, civil disturbances, and Rites of Celebration! We’ll be back here every hour, on the hour, with live interviews from standing Princes as they respond to election results, with Prince Evan Parris scheduled for our eight o’clock p.m. time slot! > The Tír uses a first-past-the-post electoral system for the Star Chamber and a semi-proportional method, cumulative voting, for the more important Council and High Prince elections. Anyone who fills out the forms and pays the fees can try to get on the ballot; the main obstruction is that one of the forms is essentially a petition, which theoretically weeds out the undesirables. Once the ballots are finalized, citizens of the Gentry rank and above—essentially anyone with a proper SIN—receive eleven votes apiece and are free to split them between Council nominees however they wish. Many cast one vote for each would-be Prince they like, with a second going towards their High Prince favorite. More partisan voters who strongly favor a single candidate will throw all their votes at that one, split them up between two they like, or what have you. > Kay St. Irregular > The High Prince is simply whoever gets the most votes, and the next nine round out the Council. So far it works, but the Tír and proper elections don’t exactly have a long and steady relationship. > Frosty It’s a family affair… --- In the end, for all the passion that sent Tír voters to the polls, logic prevailed on election day. The more radical and metaracially motivated voters largely canceled each another out, and the utterly mundane issue that so motivates the rest of metahumanity—the economy—won the day. Running on a platform consisting primarily of continued economic reform and financial growth for all Tír citizens, Prince Mary-Louise Telestrian campaigned steadily leading up to the election and promised increased prosperity to all social classes. Having long since secured her position as the chief financial advisor to the popular High Prince Zincan, Telestrian was able to exploit the momentum of the nation’s ongoing economic revival to catapult herself to individual political success. By promising people more of the same, she won more votes than any other candidate and secured the High Prince’s throne. > Now what am I gonna do with my “High Prince Rex: 2075!” t-shirt? > Slamm-0! > Wash it? > Netcat > To get Demarco to let her make those claims—to keep him from pointing out his own programs that have helped with that economic growth—means Telestrian either made him some big promises or some huge threats. > Kay St. Irregular > The Tír’s perpetual racism combined with some shadow ops might have been enough to handle that. His ears are plenty round, and hers are nice and sharp. Demarco may have felt his grasp on a Princeship was tenuous enough that he couldn’t afford to openly defy her on this issue. He might have just been content to maintain his Council seat and keep raking in the nuyen. > Frosty High Prince Telestrian is neither socially conservative nor particularly progressive but can best be called “disinterested.” She is content to stay above the fray and let the Tír citizens do what they wish to do. While Telestrian is no Evan Parris, the radical elven crowd favors her—for her metaspecies, her antagonistic relationship with the Council’s sole human, and for replacing High Prince Zincan, if for nothing else—and they take her silence as an unspoken blessing. She has made no effort to silence the dissenting Council voices belonging to the likes of Joubert and Foster, however, which the other Princes also take as encouragement. > She also hasn’t made vocal plans to clamp down on that Tír/Cascade smuggling that keeps the underclassmen armed and dangerous. Little birds whisper that she may have cut a deal with the ork tribal leadership. This allows the smuggling to continue unabated in exchange for a cut of the profits, orkish muscle at her beck and call, information on Salish-Shidhe politics, or who-knows-what-else. > Red Anya For the most part, High Prince Telestrian seems likely to continue the Tír’s --- status quo, young as it may be, from the years since the Coup. The tendency toward less overt racism will hopefully continue, as will the comparative openness of their borders and the nominal transparency of their government. The High Prince has made it clear that tourist money will continue to be welcomed but foreign businesses and extraterritoriality will not. This position is, of course, in her own best interest—or, rather, in the interest of the entire Telestrian clan. Their family-owned business continues to economically dominate the Tír as a whole, leaving their nearest competitors, Prince Demarco’s Andalusian Light Industries, in distant second place. The prominence of the Telestrian name, in fact, brings us to the remainder of the election’s meaningful results. The High Prince’s replacement on the Council of Princes—another Telestrian—will rubber-stamp any changes wrought by the new High Prince, no matter what the fiscal effects of these changes might be. Lynne, the High Prince’s cousin, will be taking Mary-Louise’s vacant Council seat. > Meet the new Prince, just like the old Prince. > Frosty > People, that song is more than one hundred years old! Start quoting some new music! > Slamm-0! The Telestrians are not simply the dominant force in Tír politics but are working hard at forming a dynasty. The entire Council knows that Lynne will now speak with the High Prince’s voice, and in the case of a tie, High Prince Telestrian will decide the matter, regardless. The balance of power has shifted dramatically in the Telestrian family’s favor. Though Mary-Louise’s son Sebastian seemed to be groomed for a political position, Lynne is also a more-than-capable heir. Sebastian remains a prominent executive in Telestrian Industries proper, and just a few months ago the family bent its fortune and clout to campaigning on Lynne’s behalf instead of Sebastian’s. The women of the Telestrian clan are the most powerful figures in the Tír landscape now, and it is only a matter of time before they truly wield that might. > So what do we know about Lynne? > Pistons > There’s precious little to know. Top of her class, double major in biotechnology and business culminating in an MBA from Williamette University, top scores in her Rite of Progression. Back when James III was the Telestrian pater familias, Lynne was given a chance to shine, and she did so. She’s been groomed for this position for a long time. The Telestrians have done their best to ensure every family member is ready for this sort of power. Losing James to the Coup threw a wrench into their plans, sure, but they’ve had ten election results upthread? How many friggin’ Telestrians are there? > Hard Exit --- years to adapt and have plenty of family to choose from for replacements. > Winterhawk > Her platform, such as it was, basically mirrored Mary-Louise’s. All about the fiscal growth, carefully avoiding the social, dancing around issues so that neither side could pin anything on her about anything but economics. She’s got just one open enemy on the Council—Demarco, since Lynne’s the inheritor of his animosity towards the whole Telestrian family—but as a whole the Council seems willing to welcome her into the fold as a peer and rival. Parris seems to quietly resent anyone who’s even nominally his equal or superior. Rex makes cheerful noises, but who knows what he’s up to? Taylor knows he needs Telestrian financial support to keep the Peace Force paid and equipped. Gant seems to be loyal to the nation as a whole, worried only about doing a competent job. Foster and Joubert are none too thrilled about having another elf on the Council. Jaeger’s already been fined twice for making inappropriate comments about Lynne and Mary-Louise (tridclips of both instances went viral across the Matrix). Lastly, Van den Berg is as milquetoast-boring as we’ve come to expect, but that just makes us all think he’s up to something. > Kay St. Irregular > What’s the deal with this Sebastian kid? He can’t like being passed over like this. > Sounder > Telestrians never do, but so far Sebastian has kept his sulking private, at least. He served in the Peace Force for a time (his records are classified enough that I didn’t take the time to go looking), returned to the family fold at the end of his second enlistment period, and moved to a prominent position TeleSec, the family’s paramilitary—sorry, I mean security—branch. That’s when he swore oaths of allegiance to then-Prince Mommy as a publicity stunt, and those oaths are probably keeping him from pouting out loud. Word is his uncle Timothy (an also-ran yet again) still has a chip on his shoulder against Lynne from some slight decades ago. Timmy might try to get young Sebastian into his camp, given enough time. > Frosty > Hold up. We’re missing one. Who’s the “Telestrian, R.” from those --- > Lots. This one is Rory. Records on him are … scarce and often redacted. He’s something of a prodigal son, with rumors flying about who he really is and what exactly he’s been up to. The current theory in some circles is that he’s a Ghost or White Banner/Black Dagger-type guy who just got back home in time for the election and ran to piss off the rest of his family. His last name’s the only reason he made it onto the ballot. > Frosty For now, High Prince Zincan still holds office. Only a few weeks remain before he will hand over his position to Mary-Louise, and Lynne will move onto the Council to fill her cousin’s seat. Having ascended from being a token ork yes-man under Surehand to ruling the country, Zincan was more popular during his reign than anyone could have foreseen, and he will be missed. He inherited a nation drowning in crises, and while he has his critics, the truth is he stabilized the economy, slowed the drain of refugees, brought in valuable tourism, and even saw many expatriates return. The Zincan Act has been partially sullied by the draconian security measures it introduced, but the continuing sectarian violence shows that such measures may have been necessary despite their drawbacks. The new High Prince seems poised to continue many of Zincan’s plans. The borders will remain (comparatively) open, the atmosphere will stay (relatively) friendly to outsiders, and the economy will continue to grow. Some worry about old traditions being ignored, but many of them write those complaints in the blood of innocents. These old traditions concern xenophobia and oppression, so I feel the Land of Promise is better walking down this new path. --- [part 9 missing] The Artful Dodger [ Spoiler ] Posted by: /dev/grrl > Hey guys, I was digging through some of Danielle de la Mar’s files after that time that I totally busted into her commlink all by myself without any help (re: awesome), and I came across this internal memo some of you old people might like. I remember a few of you talking about this Dodger guy over in our hacked Tír Tairngire travel brochure, and I thought you might want to look him up or something. > /dev/grrl From: Andrew Boyer, GOD To: Danielle de la Mar Re: Background Check: Consultant: Dodger I remain convinced that bringing him onboard is the way to go. He’s eccentric, but we’re used to that, and he’s brilliant enough that his social affectations shouldn’t matter. His obsession gives us the carrot we need; we’ll never have to use a stick on him. After spending several decades sliding past IC like it wasn’t there, he was caught in the Matrix during the second Crash. Eyewitness accounts gleaned from various hacker-houses over the years have confirmed it, and there are enough urban myths floating around about this elf that we know he was there. What’s more, we know why. Both of them tie into the psych eval we discovered from Harborview Hospital shortly after the Crash. Anonymous donations were later sent to the facility with a very polite thank-you note, with his patient number as the only explanation. We lost track of him again for a time after that, at least in the meat world. In the Matrix, we tracked his usual icon—that ebony boy with a cloak made of stars—primarily targeting Renraku for roughly two years. Our records are spotty, but by all estimates the vast majority of these intrusions, or at least the ones we’ve found logged in Renraku security files, don’t seem to have been targeting the usual paydata. He was raiding corporate databases, yes, for proprietary information, but none of it was tracked as having been immediately useful to any business rivals at the time. He wasn’t working. He was searching, on his own, for his missing AI. > It’s hard to blame him. She was really something to see in action. > Slamm-0! From: Dr. Dawn To: Dr. Gorski Re: Patient 2064-3245 Name: John Doe Gender: M DOB: XX-XX-XXXX Age: Unknown (est. 25) Metaspecies: Homo sapiens nobilis Testing Dates: 8-11-2064, 8-27-2064, 9-9-2064, 9-21-2064, 10-17-2064 I second the recommendation for a discharge and full clearance on this patient without reservation. He’s not had a major incident during his time with us, he does well in group session, and he’s responded quite favorably to treatment (especially Dr. K’s --- simulations, where 3245 has logged triple the hours of anyone else, and has shown himself capable of peaceful reintegration with society). We’ve been steadily lowering his dosage, and his alertness and orientation have remained, even on pure placebos. 3245 hasn’t complained about missing his “lady fair” in weeks, has no suicidal ideation, no homicidal ideation, the auditory and visual hallucinations on record may have been clerical errors or the result of improper medication, his concentration and memory are fine, and he hasn’t tried to interact with imaginary electronics like so many of the other cases that came in around the same time. The initial diagnosis of a psychosis seems to have been incorrect, but I understand Aaron’s mistake because, let’s be honest Mike, we were all swamped. I agree with Dr. Kim, absolutely. Let’s cut the elf loose; we need the bed. We first see him again, for certain, in Tír na nÓg late in 2067. We had heard of a Tír Tairngire employer (Willamette CompuStat) trying to contact him, and piggybacked their security as they compiled their own reports. It would seem that Dodger spent over a year just outside Galway in a palatial estate registered to a Mr. Sean Aileach, almost certainly an alias of the former Tír Prince Sean Laverty. At this time, the exiled nobility were being hunted rather seriously, and it’s believed that Dodger was providing Laverty with Matrix support, assisting his former mentor in gathering funds, contacting allies both in and outside of the two elven nations, shuffling resources around the globe, monitoring his hunters, and generally evading justice. > Old news, that. Tír Tairngire’s not really hunting for Laverty as hard as they are Surehand and a few others. The Professor seems content so long as he’s got a school set up somewhere and elven magicians to train in mysterious arcane arts, and the Ghosts and the like seem content to let him do so, as long as it’s far afield from Portland. > Thorn What matters is that our records show that his stay coincides with overhauls and updates to Tír na nÓg’s government-supplied Matrix, with massive improvements made to both user interface and security protocols. The Tír maintained its tradition of heavily sculpted nodes and iconography composed of complex, archaic knotwork and the like, rather than properly conforming to UMS imagery—they have been repeatedly fined for this, but seem to have long ago accepted that as the cost of (not) doing business—but otherwise they updated heavily during this 2067-2068 period. Note: this heavy reliance on stylized imagery and immersive design, rather than casual AR, makes the Tír Telecommunications Grid an ideal candidate for our own upgrades. > It’s true, Tír na nÓg’s always been a pain to hack in. Sometimes you’ve got to run translation protocols on top of everything else, other times you’ve got to be good at riddles, other times you’ve --- got to decipher/decrypt complex mazes. Irritating stuff. > Pistons Sebz: Fnenu Oebjfgbjr Gb: Ebtre ZpZnahf Er: er: Frphevgl Pyrnenapr V qba’g pner jung gur CS ncrf fnl, Ebtre. Znxr guvf unccra. Trg uvz vagb gur pbhagel, jubrire lbh unir gb oevor. Jr’ir tbg pbqr jr arrq uvz gb ybbx ng. >>Lbh ercyvrq ba 7-10-2067 >>Zf. Oebjfgbjr, gur Gíe Crnpr Sbepr pnaabg ng guvf gvzr zrrg Jvyynzrggr PbzchFgng’f erdhrfg sbe n geniry naq grzcbenel rzcyblzrag ivfn. Shegurezber, gur fhowrpg va dhrfgvba vf fgvyy jnagrq sbe dhrfgvbavat va ertneqf gb gur ybpngvba bs gur shtvgvir Frna Yniregl. Jr jvyy abg tenag lbh gur erdhverq nhgubevmngvba gb oevat uvz vagb gur pbhagel, naq qb urerol qrznaq lbh ghea bire gb hf nal vasbezngvba lbh unir cregnvavat gb uvf jurernobhgf vzzrqvngryl va nppbeqnapr jvgu negvpyr frira bs gur Mvapna Npg. [Decryption] From: Sarah Browstowe To: Roger McManus Re: re: Security Clearance I don’t care what the PF apes say, Roger. Make this happen. Get him into the country, whoever you have to bribe. We’ve got code we need him to look at. >>You replied on 7-10-2067 >>Ms. Browstowe, the Tír Peace Force cannot at this time meet Willamette CompuStat’s request for a travel and temporary employment visa. Furthermore, the subject in question is still wanted for questioning in regards to the location of the fugitive Sean Laverty. We will not grant you the required authorization to bring him into the country, and do hereby demand you turn over to us any information you have pertaining to his whereabouts immediately in accordance with article seven of the Zincan Act. This freelance work began to set the pattern of his life since then. As companies and governments updated, Dodger was there. He avoided working for Renraku, but with that one exception he traveled the globe, working completely legally as a freelance Matrix consultant. Internal memos we’ve secured from each of these companies show that they were invariably impressed with his work, and one NeoNET handler described him as displaying “a startling depth and breadth of Matrix knowledge, coupled with the breathtaking ability to make the impossible look instinctive despite the limitations of the secure hardware lent to him.” A bit flowery, perhaps, but a sentiment held by several such handlers from a variety of companies. Evo is known to have offered him a full-time position, with a generous salary, but he never settled anywhere for longer than a few months. > Last I checked, no one is “breathtaking” on the loaner hardware they give consultants. That’s kind of the point. >DangerSensei > They can be if they’re not really using the hardware. Maybe it’s just fresh in my brain from that psych eval, but … >Netcat We now know that he was doing so not simply for nuyen, nor for those perpetual hardware upgrades that so tantalize the criminal underclass, but for the tremendous computing power that could only be afforded to him directly by those global Matrix providers. He worked on projects that were anathema to him: upgrading security, improving the efficiency of intrusion countermeasures, troubleshooting security for ultraviolet nodes, essentially wearing a white hat instead of his usual black one … but he did so not because he had a change of heart, but because he believes his heart is missing. He doesn’t care about ou --- money, or doing what’s genuinely right; even after all this time, he only cares about finding this AI, the one called Morgan or Magaera. Rather than utilizing standard search protocols or programming his own (as we know he’s more than capable of doing), he’s going directly to the source. He’s scouring databases himself, and gaining access to do so as clauses in these freelance contracts. It’s a testament to his obsession, yes, but also to his ability. Consider it, Ms. de la Mar; NeoNET, MCT, Evo, all of them, they were so hungry for the knowledge and talent he could offer, they were letting him search through their code, sometimes literally line by line, to look for a missing girl that never truly existed in the first place. > I know he wasn’t just doing it for a paycheck, but it still sucks to see a real old-school console cowboy turn Matrix cop, even indirectly, even just by training or equipping them. > Bull > How do we know he really was, though? I mean, who knows what backdoors he set up? Who knows what passcodes he smuggled out, or what leaks he’s responsible for? > Slamm-0! > If he’d been doing all that all along, would they have kept hiring him? > Pistons This elf has, very honestly, forgotten more about the Matrix than I and half my staff will ever know. His node design is elegant and flawless, his intrusion countermeasures are graceful and ruthless, the programs he assembles to crack the work of others are nothing less than sublime. His knowledge of artificial intelligences and his ability to work alongside them are quite simply second to none, as though there’s some intuitive bond between him and even the most otherwise uncommunicative AI. I’ve heard rumors he’s no longer simply a hacker, no longer even a programmer, but has become something more. In examining program logs of him in action, there are times even I—a man soundly of science and law—think I see his missing lover hovering just out of his sight, helping him code the impossible. I cannot explain it, but I desperately want us to wield what he possesses. > Oh, Dodger. You never really lost her. She’s your Paragon, somehow. > Netcat > Cat, I know the guy, and even Slamm-0! saw him work. He’s good, he’s great, he’s even special, maybe. But he’s just a decker. > Bull > Yeah? Then why’d this Laverty/Aileach guy take such an interest in him in the first place? How’s he still this shit-hot without ever upgrading past some twenty year old headware, using training-wheel ‘links so full of security and tracking ‘ware they’re constipated? Why was Morgan/Magaera so fascinated by him, out of all the old Matrix-masters around back then? And why does even some soulless GOD spider say he’s seen her --- helping him? I’m telling you, he’s a technomancer. > Netcat > … > Clockwork > There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your bigotry. > Puck If we’re going to create a new Matrix, if we’re going to make it hacker-proof, we need this elf on our staff. I suggest we promise him the return of his missing AI, promise him the backing of the GOD in his search for her (particularly against Renraku, who we can imply maintains some secure networks he has not yet located). We promise him further connections with the ongoing projects we’ve heard of, Imago or Dickens or both, and we get everyone on the same page about keeping this man on staff. Honey, not vinegar, will get him to work for us with all his heart and soul. If we can offer him his precious e-ghost back, maybe even tell him she’ll get a real body someday, then he’ll do the impossible for us. With the iconography and security we have in mind for this new Matrix, who on earth could be better? We still have time to get him on board with our GOD-ZOGB-Weapons Platform experiment, working for us from the inside while these other hackers probe from the outside. He has been in the business of making Matrix security look foolish for as long as most of us have been alive. Let’s use him, instead of letting him continue to do so. I cannot explain it better than this, Ms. de la Mar; there is something special about this elf, and something special about the Matrix when he is using it. Where others hack, he dances. Let us put that to work. > So do we have anything that shows he ever did work on those projects? Including the ones that seem to be spreading some ill effects around the hacker community? > Pistons > Nope-a-roonie, not that I could find in any of those other files. It looks like maybe they told him about them to get his attention, but he never actually worked on ‘em, or if he did, it was pure theoretical contributions. From the consultant logs I can find for him, he never actually went anywhere near Albuquerque, for sure. He was too busy doing de la Mar’s dirty work to try and be reunited with his one true love. Which is kind of d’awww when you think about it. > /dev/grrl > He still turned cop. Who knows how many kids have been tagged by IC or brain-fried because he was helping the bad guys optimize performance and work at peak efficiency? Fraggin’ elf. > Bull New story, Cracks: [ Spoiler ] Dear FastJack: My name is Michael Compton, and I am a representative of the Grid Overwatch Division of the Corporate Court. Feel free to check my credentials—they are on record and easily accessible to someone of your skills. Your reputation in the shadows is second to none, which is why we are extending this opportunity to you. GOD would like to invite you to participate in a special program. I’m sure you’re no anxious to work with us, but I believe the opportunity I’m going to offer will overcome any reluctance you might feel. We would like to invite you to participate in the evolution of the Matrix. You know that new Matrix protocols are on the way, unless your information-gathering skills have been greatly overstated. Those protocols are in various stages of testing, and we would like to involve you in that process. What we ask is simple—we want you to make every effort and use every trick in your abundant arsenal to gain access to the node designated, GOD-ZOGB-Weapons Platform. Its icon is a collection of Norse weapons. I’m sure that you can guess what this is for and I assure you it is the real thing. We here at GOD are confident that our new system is virtually impenetrable, and we want to put it to the ultimate test. We offer you two, perhaps three things in return for your efforts. First, we will compensate you for your time, at the rate we normally pay outside contractors. Second, we offer you the earliest possible access to the protocols we develop. I’m sure that is something that will be of interest to you as they become more widely implemented. And the third thing is that if you somehow crack our system, you will have the immense pride of having beat us when we believe we are at our best. I don’t believe we could offer you anything that is worth more than that. There is no need for you to reply to this message, I am sure we will be aware of your efforts when the time comes. Thank you for your time and consideration, Michael Compton, Security Services Analyst, Corporate Court, GOD > Are you fraggin' serious? An invitation straight from GOD to try and hack some new orbital node, please tell me you are planning to shred this site, ’Jack. > Slamm-0! > Honestly, I'm not even sure I'm going to try. I was planning to release this to all the hackers on JackPoint but was waiting for the right time. They can't possibly have expected me to keep this to myself. > FastJack > Are you all daft? This was sent to FastJack by a Corporate Court employee who worked for NeoNET before he went to the CC. This is a trap. > Clockwork > If you're so sure it's a trap why did you put it out there for us to see? > Slamm-0! > Do you need to ask, Slammy? > Netcat > We have a few choices. We can let this slide by and then be surprised when this new Matrix protocol comes online, or we can take this opportunity to poke around and see what it's all about. > Bull --- ONE GRID TO RULE THEM ALL Posted by: FastJack > I'm opening this private forum for JackPoint users to consolidate anything anyone finds on this new Matrix protocol that I got the invite to take a shot at. Keep it factual or at least keep comments and random speculation to a minimum. I like speculation, as it may spur someone else's thinking, but let's not blow this forum up into something convoluted. I'm leaving System Admin and junk cleanup on Bull's plate so I don't get accusations of bias. > FastJack > Thanks Jack. Hackers, start your sleazeware. Let the digging begin. > Bull > Let me be the first to pop up here and tell everyone that this is real. New protocols are being established for the pre-existing wireless Matrix, and these things will have a massive impact on our lives. From what I can tell so far the rollout for the new protocols has already started. I took a look at some of the orbital weapons platforms that had been shut down after the breach and they all look like they are back online now. I highlight the word “look” because I've been doing my assessments of them through a telescope and a vision magnification systems. I can't find any sort of node for them but they have been doing daily run-ups, and I have seen maintenance staff out doing diagnostics with—get this—wired connections. > Orbital DK > Quick update: I figured out what the wired connections were for and from what I can tell they were using the wired systems to upload the new wireless protocols. I've got nodes now, or at least I think they're nodes. I have zero connectivity to them with my commlink. I can see them but have been completely unable to access them. > Orbital DK > Seeing as I was pretty sure I knew who would be making the big push behind something like this I blasted my way into Danielle de la Mar's commlink and she has been putting out some seriously worrisome memos and messages. I copied all of them over, you can read them here [link] For those of you who are too lazy to read the whole thing, it looks like de la Mar and her megacorporate backers are --- taking back the Matrix. They are planning to realign the Matrix structure into multiple layers of grids, like in the old days. And get this—security for the entire Matrix will be overseen by GOD. This is gonna be seriously feeble. > /dev/grrl > That was you! I spent three straight days working my access. Now she's got a whole new 'link and some seriously draconic security on it. > Glitch > Sorry G. But I got the data so all your effort wasn't wasted. > /dev/grrl > My first foray into taking up GOD's invite to FastJack was a complete wash. I could detect the node and the new grid alignment, but I was completely unable to access or even probe the target node for specs. All of my programs came back with coding errors. The only node I was able access had an agent running that kept saying, "Get ready, a new and improved Matrix is coming soon!" Got to say this is some serious drek, but I kinda liked the feel of the place. It was homey, in a way. > Bull > Of course it's homey to you. I swear they pulled up twenty-five-year-old iconography (which I've only seen in pictures), and the layout is so retro. On a pertinent note I pulled up every program I've coded for the past eight years and ran them. I got lots of code errors but a few managed to work a little bit. I'm cobbling together a few new programs from bits of that code. Once I get them together I'll distribute, and we can all run some tests. > Hannibelle > I'm talking about this against my own good judgement because I hate feeding Clockwork and the rest of the technophobes, but I think everyone else could use the data. First off the place feels a little weird to me. Can't really express the concept in any other way and can't really describe it further. Sorry. Secondly, the reason none of you a able to access it with your programs and your links is because the whole place is running on new protocols that allow only limited connectibility from current commlinks. They changed all the security protocols to block every program we currently have to scramble, sleaze, decipher, and generally wreak havoc on their systems. For all of you this means you are going to need to start putting together new programs. For me it meant I just needed to spend a little time getting to know the new system and then generate a little coding on the fly. I did this a little at a time over the course of a week with a little trial and error. I got the coding right and I even managed to access the new grid and analyze the agent in the accessible node. The agent isn't even an agent—it's a piece of IC. I wasn't successfully running programs for more than --- thirty seconds before that agent changed its tune and politely asked me to leave. I figured I was in trouble, but I tried to push it a little further. The IC didn't do a thing, but within another few seconds another icon appeared in the node. It was an angel—I think Michael, flaming sword and all. He didn't ask me to leave or say anything else. He just looked at me and shook his head. Next thing I knew I woke up with a pounding headache, a bloody nose, and Slamm-0! waving smelling salts under my nose saying we had to go. Whatever the icon was (my guess is a hacker from GOD), it tracked my position at the same time it gave me the boot. Luckily Slamm-0! was in good with the desk clerk at our bolt hole, and we were warned in time to get us clear. Got a quick look and the goons were KE, local Seattle cops. Looks like coordination is part of the new plan. > Netcat > Any chance it was coincidence? Or they were there for someone else? > Pistons > Not likely. They went straight to the room we were in, not even the one we had actually rented. > Netcat > So all of you know, while I'm in control of myself I have been trying this as well. I'm using some cobbled-together equipment, and I think I have a working prototype for the next generation of hackers, though I think we can call them deckers again. I let them come find me, and when Lone Star came to my already open door, they were very polite. They actually thanked me on behalf of the GOD and just let me go on my way. > FastJack > Sorry if I can't believe you "Jack," but you're not the most credible of sources right now. Especially if you are throwing out stories of Lone Star being polite and thankful. > Glitch > So I managed to hack de la Mar's newest link and found some more interesting things. Looks like the new protocol is watched over by GOD, but every member of the Corporate Court had to agree to be part of the team. They are all playing nice with GOD, and they each will have their own grid along with a public grid and national grid for the countries that can afford one. The public grid will supposedly cover everywhere and, according to de la Mar, will even be accessible via satellite --- link from any point on the globe! This is huge, how has it not been made public yet. Especially since de la Mar is claiming it will be up on January 1st. 2075 is going to be an interesting year! > Slamm-0! > Whispers started in DeeCee and Atlanta shortly after the last election results were finalized. NeoNET, MCT, and Ares all started holding some closed-door congressional meetings in late November on both sides of the border. MCT must have lost out early, but it looks like Ares in the CAS and NeoNET in the UCAS have been sticking around. If there is some new Matrix contract coming around, these two are doing the heavy lifting. Yes. Ares. Not sure how that will work, but they are looking to get firmly entrenched with their new American patrons. > Kay St. Irregular > MCT isn't out. They actually have half of the the entire public grid, the UCAS pretty much gave them Seattle's grid and a contract for a new Chicago grid. They also look like they are going to be one of the first MegaGrids to come online, complete with the PR coup and status that grants. > Pistons > Look for a lot of work going after them. A nice embarrassing worldwide PR hit could be just what a few other contenders in cities all over the world could need to bump them. If this all goes smoothly, we’ll probably see a lot of MCT run grids in cities all over the world. > FastJack > Hope this new Matrix in the CAS isn't too “buggy”! > Turbo Bunny > Not funny. > Bull > I hate to say it, but I kind of like the new public grid. Feels very similar to the current setup but also feels a little more organized. Also reminds me a lot of the old wired setup. I know all of you will scream old-timer but, well, yep, I am, and even though it feels like the old Matrix, it is still going to be a dangerous and possible deadly place for those of us who make their living stealing other peoples data. > Bull > Bull's right. It is like the old Matrix visually, but not coding wise. It looks like added a lot of limitations on things to clean the place up. And I might just be imagining things, but I'd swear that new grid is running some low-end simfeed for that "homey" feeling because even I get it, and I wasn't even a thought during the old Matrix. > /dev/grrl New story as of 1/17/2013, Dragons: [ Spoiler ] [part 1 missing] --- [part 2 missing] --- was exhausted. Only then did she discover her next challenge: Alamais had placed warding over the door. Upon careful examination, it was clear that Alamais had invested a lot of energy in crafting this warding, putting as much care into it as he did shaping the rest of the compound. Having lived with Alamais for nearly a year, Larnala had learned he always used charged wards to protect his assets. This warding would be difficult to break through. Larnala had to resist the urge to begin tearing at the warding out of desperation and a primal need to get to her eggs as quickly as possible. Up to this point, Larnala knew she had done nothing to arouse any suspicion or set off any alarms that would bring Alamais back to the compound. She had time to be methodical, and she knew that attacking the warding would not only be grueling, but could be potentially life threatening. So despite her screaming instincts, Larnala laid herself down at the foot of the chamber door and rested for a couple of hours. Once she started taking down the warding, she knew she would have to hurry, as Alamais’ spirits would likely start appearing and impeding her escape. After resting for as long as she dared, Larnala arose, feeling stronger. She started slashing at the warding with her claws. The warding fought her, striking back with a telekinetic force that felt like blasts from a rocket-propelled grenade. Despite the pain, she kept tearing at the translucent warding, with each strike making it weaker. After a couple of minutes, the magical barrier finally collapsed. Despite blood dripping from her snout and jaw, Larnala did not allow her wounds to slow her down, as she forged ahead into the rookery, all the while --- [part 4 missing] --- at maximum speed, fleeing from someone she knew could outrun her. She did not get far. A telekinetic force grabbed hold of the chest containing her eggs. She tried desperately to keep it within her grasp, with her claws digging deep into the wood, but the force was too great. The chest was ripped from her claws and flew toward Alamais. Just as Larnala roared in horror, a second telekinetic wave washed over her, slamming her to the ground. It took Larnala a few seconds to shake off the disorientation and the shock she felt before she could pick herself up out of the dirt. She looked up to find herself overshadowed by the massive form of Alamais, standing over her in his majestic gold-and-scarlet draconic form. “Traitor,” Alamais hissed in her mind. The word weighed heavy with contempt and rage. “I am no traitor, Lord Alamais,” gasped Larnala. “I was trying to do what is right for myself and my offspring. There’s a storm coming, and I wanted to make sure we are all safe. I believe in everything you teach, but I’ve realized there is no way for us to survive this impending storm. I would never betray your plans to anyone, let alone the Loremaster. Let me go, I will not do anything to harm you or the cause. I will remain loyal!” “You need nconnection so vague. Everyone here knows that my brother is coming within the next few days. I have known this for months now. I have been prepared for decades. I did not tell you any of this because I knew you were weak; that in your heart, you were never truly committed to our cause. Someone tells you to run, and that’s exactly what you do. If he were to track you down, I have no doubt that you would spill your guts to him if you thought it would save yourself. And I also know that you have passed important intelligence to the Loremaster. Because of you, he is aware of the eggs in our compound. So when you tell me you can hold your tongue, I say, “Liar!” You are nothing but a liability. “Unlike you, the rest of your kind assembled here are --- [part 6 missing] --- [part 7 missing] --- Hoi, chummers. My name is Helix, and I’m part of a group called the Alphas. We got eight people: four—count ‘em, four—street sams, a loup-garou who will shred you in hand-to-hand combat, a nosferatu mage, a bear shapeshifter, and a rigger. So we’re flexible, and we can bring the hurt. During our career in the shadows, we have done runs in Bogotá at the height of the Aztlan-Amazonia war. We’ve run in Chicago, Lagos, and even GeMiTo, even during the bad times when Alamais and his followers were bearing down hard on the sprawl. We pursued the artifacts that everyone was so obsessed with a year or two ago, and we (briefly) recovered Santaya’s Compass and the Phaistos Disc. More importantly, we survived those runs. We have participated in Desert Wars for the last five years and earned a good name there, along with a few bucks. We have earned a reputation for doing runs no one else wanted and for seeking out new and interesting challenges. > More meat, less résumé, please. > Haze This is probably why we were approached by Hans Brackhaus (or, more likely, “Hans Brackhaus”) for this particular job, and why we said “hell yes” without much hesitation. We figured it was going to be one of those once-in-a-lifetime kinds of fights, and we wanted in, both to see this thing go down and to play a role in it. We were not only going to test ourselves and our talents in this fight against the dragons; we were going to make history. We arrived at the staging ground around 2300 hours on the third of November. The staging ground was approximately sixty kilometers to the south from Alamais’ compound. We wanted to be among the first to arrive, to acquaint ourselves with the other teams a --- [part 9 missing] --- [part 10 missing] --- [part 11 missing] --- Arleesh were also spotted in human form in the camp. Apparently, they chose to arrive in a less ostentatious manner than Lofwyr. I didn’t bother to go looking for them so I could gawk like some of the noobs in the camp, but I was still pretty damn impressed at what was going down. We were in a den of dragons, with no less than three great dragons in our midst. There were some veteran shadowrunners that panicked, but I’ll give them some cover here and won’t name the ones who pissed their pants. In the end, six runner teams decided to break ranks, leaving with their tails tucked between their legs. How they earned their street reputations is beyond me, and I’m certain they’ll have trouble finding work in the future. But it wasn’t my problem. Right now, we had to be focused on fighting and winning this war—and then getting the fuck out of there before this temporary alliance crumbled. Scale returned to the camp at around 1500 hours. He informed us we would be moving toward Alamais’ compound in the next hour. Our job in the fight would be to attack and kill the enemy dragons, breach the compound, and make certain three teams were able to go into the underground sections of the compound and recover items of particularly high value to Lofwyr. He did not detail what those items were—we were told it would be better for us if we didn’t know. All we had to do was make sure the designated teams got in there and help them be successful with their part of the mission. By 1600 hours, a vast majority of the runners and mercs were on the road as one big and heavily armored convoy. Our team loaded up onto one of the t-birds, and we took off. For the first twenty kilometers, it seemed like an easy ride, with countryside that bore little scarring from the attacks of the last year. Life in those areas seemed pretty normal (for a feral city), with razor wire, buildings colored with graffiti, and buildings built like bunkers. Screams rose up from the streets from -- part 13 missing --- part 14 missing --- VOICES FROM THE FIELD Crystal Blue Who does that? Who does that? The spirits they summoned? The ones that moved through the ground like it was air, that shot up furrows of ground like some cartoon, those ones with the rabbit and the duck, but they moved fast, and they came out of the ground right in the perfect place to bite people’s faces and to crush them, and they made it so I didn’t want to walk on the ground at all, but I didn’t want to fly, either, because the air was full of rushing wind death, there was nowhere to go, but these spirits, these spirits that were leaping up from the ground? These spirits that were more powerful than anything I could summon unless I left myself twitching senseless on the ground? They were distractions. Distractions! There were more dangers out there, the guns and the beads that blew up in our faces, and the beating leathery wings in the air that could surround all of us in fire. There was somewhere I was strong, there was somewhere once where I was a good mage, but that wasn’t in this world, and I don’t think I can make it back to that world again. --- part 16 missing --- dragon, you always wanted to know what that one was at all times. But despite not knowing where he was, our side did not hesitate to start the attack. Our remaining tanks poured the heat on the compound and on the dragons, forcing them to take to the air. Our air support also opened up with a volley of rockets and heavy machine gun fire, generating dozens of explosions in the distance. It was payback time. This was followed shortly by the dragons on our side pushing forward into the heat of battle. Lofwyr seemed content to remain behind our lines, watching the battle unfold, and if necessary, directing our actions. I did not have time to pay that much attention to him, but it appeared as though he was flanked by two other dragons of relatively similar proportions, likely Lung and Arleesh. For the moment, they weren’t actively involved. However, I knew anything could happen to change that, such as a sudden appearance by Alamais. It only took a few minutes for us to determine that the combat between the dragons was clearly going in favor of Alamais’ dragons. His followers appeared to be much more motivated to win, and they seemed to have been physically stronger and faster than the dragons Lofwyr had brought, even those that likely were years older. A year of relentless hunting and fighting the local metahuman population prepared these dragons well for this battle. At that time, a particularly dangerous thought occurred to me: what if Alamais was right in this feud? What if this was how the dragons were actually meant to live? I knew that idea could get me killed, especially by any number of runners fighting in this war who may have known people who died from Alamais’ reign of terror. I kept the idea to myself and kept firing my Ultimax MMG at the enemy like good cannon fodder. We watched two dragons fall from the sky in the span of an hour; both were on our side. Many of us were forced to scramble as Alamais’ dragons strafed our lines from the air. Some used fire, others used lightning, still others used ice. Fury, our Nosferatu magician, took a direct hit from a fire attack from one of the dragons early on. There was nothing we could do for him after the hit; he was incinerated on contact. He was also the first of the --- part 18 missing --- part 19 missing --- part 20 missing --- part 21 missing --- VOICES FROM THE FIELD ScarletNight I’ve accepted the fact that I never will be able to tell which of my memories of that night are real. It seems likely the toothy, horrific spirits dashing through swirling clouds of noxious gas were real. From what I hear from others, the dragons really were dropping grenades from their claws while casting spells that disintegrated people where they stood. But what about the dead bodies who stood up with jerky motions, descended on their chummers, then slowly ripped themselves limb from limb? What about the pack of dogs with snake tongues and scorpion tails that seemed to descend out of nowhere? What about the iron snares that leaped from the ground and held many of us in our tracks? How much of it was real, and how much of it was draconic magic twisting our minds? My answer: All of it. I’m going to tell myself that I only went there in the first place because Mr. Johnson, on behalf of his dragon master, twisted my mind. Then I only saw what I saw because dragons made me see it. Then, for some reason, they let me go, and I went back to things that actually existed, and I didn’t have to deal with their reality any more. That’s what I’m going to believe because when I think of every other possibility, I feel my mind starting to tear. This is what I have left to me, so it is what I will take. --- part 23 missing --- part 24 missing --- mines hidden in the dirt; and the way we wound them was for them to go off under us, killing several more runners. We heard reports over our commlinks that some runners were being hit with chemical agents, from breathtaker, warp, and white star to Ymir and seven-7. Given Alamais’ alleged connections to terror cells, that was no surprise. And neither were the grenades they started dropping from overhead. It got me to thinking what else they might have up their scaly sleeves. Would they start laying down suppressive fire? Did they have rocket launchers customized to fit their dragon hides? Perhaps laser weapons? How much worse could it get? Dumb question, I know. I got an answer soon enough. As we slowly crossed the booby-trapped field, we heard roars off in the distance, sounds that weren’t coming from the dragons currently locked in heated combat overhead. A short time later, ten new dragons flew toward us out of the early-morning sky. I glanced back at the three great dragons, and it was clear from their expressions that these dragons were not theirs. The new dragons joined in the fray to support the four remaining Alamais dragons, and they began attacking the nine survivors on Lofwyr’s side. These dragons were fresh, not battle weary, and that meant trouble. I understood that Lofwyr could lose the remainder of all his dragons with this new wave. That would mean game over for us. When they came into the battle, these dragons launched a new offensive targeting us, strafing our lines with their elemental attacks and forcing us to avoid their fangs and their talons. Some of the runners dodged the attacks right into landmines, setting off new explosions that rocked our lines. During these attacks, a feathered serpent decided to dive bomb our team. Despite my bum leg, I managed to break left and avoided being hit. Billy, on the other hand, dodged to the right. After taking only a few steps he triggered a landmine beneath him. Realizing he had somehow survived the initial explosion, the dragon flew low, close to the ground, and raked his claws over my chummer as he passed by, finishing the job the mine started before I could react. At that point, I became convinced that storming the gates of hell into the underworld would have been a simpler and far less bloody affair than storming Alamais’ compound. Having lost a second good friend, part of me just wanted to give up, --- part 26 missing --- part 27 missing --- part 28 missing --- Posted by: Street Rage Many have been bugging me about information about Lofwyr’s and Alamais’ final battle. I have been trying to put the experience out of my mind as best as I can and move on with my life. But because people won’t let it go, I will share my experience with you that day. I’ll only say this once. Yes, I worked with Alamais, and yes, I regret it. I was one of the first runners in his private little army that called for us to switch sides. Their dragons were careless with our lives, and on more than one occasion they openly attacked us. It became pretty clear that it wasn’t just an accident, or something caused by the “fog of war.” It was clear they were intentionally trying to wipe out all metahumans who were present on the battlefield, regardless of whether we were on the same side. They didn’t care we there trying to do the same thing they were doing. To add insult to injury, when they had the opportunity to defend us against Lofwyr’s dragons, they didn’t take the opportunity to shield us. We took the full brunt of the flames and lightning that rained down on us. Our guys were being shredded by the dragons’ talons, and we had no one in the air to stand up for us. It also didn’t help that the drake I talked to about this referred to me and my people as cattle and told us to get back in line before he made sure I met my destiny earlier than I was supposed to. I didn’t much like those remarks, so I buried one of my axes in that drake’s head. Switching sides in the heat of battle is never easy. Despite sharing some of my gear with my former opponents and helping patch up several of them with my stunning impersonation of a street doc, the march up to the compound with Lofwyr’s forces was nerve-racking. Many on the other side were seething with anger. I had killed at least a half dozen of their chummers during the four-hour stand-off, if not more. And despite most of the voices calling for a truce, there were others looking for revenge. One of these idiots tried to stab me in the back while we tried to cross the minefield, and it took all my willpower to not kill the drekhead. It didn’t help that he was a dandelion eater. I settled for breaking his arm instead, which I think most in the line appreciated. We marched for what felt like an eternity and then saw ten new dragons approach us. When they arrived, they started to lay into our ranks. I got hit by a burst of ice that slammed into me like a freaking Ares New story from 21/3/2013, The Battle of Bogota [ Spoiler ] THE BATTLE OF BOGOTÁ Posted by: Sunshine, et a > OK, before I get going, we’re going to break from our traditional format for this section just a bit. Normally whoever’s posting will just collect the data from our sources and then feed it back to everyone here. This time, I think it would be better to let the sources speak for themselves. We know the broad strokes of what Aztlan did in Bogotá after Sirrurg was defeated. But we don’t know much beyond that because Aztlan was controlling the information flow. I think in this case, the best way to learn what really happened is to read the words of those who were actually there. I’ll help cover the high points, but most of the nitty-gritty stuff will be coming from a variety of sources. > Sunshine. October 3, 2074. Less than two hours after Aztlan defeated Sirrurg outside of Acapulco, Aztlan launched Operation: Huntress, their plan to secure the city of Bogotá. The first phase of Huntress was twofold: to eliminate all known Amazonian, Horizon, and anti-Aztlan agents still within the city, and to feed Amazonia false intelligence. Once the operation began, agents of Aztlan and Aztechnology began their assignments. Less than twenty-four hours later, eighty percent of the assignments were completed. Some of these assignments implied that Amazonian agents attacked Aztechnology holdings, thereby allowing the Aztechnology forces to legally engage in the fight. Based on planted intelligence, Amazonian commanders thought the bulk of Aztlan forces were engaged against Sirrurg in the north. Amazonia launched an offensive against the city to completely cut it off from Aztlan. Aztlan responded, deploying several previously unknown airborne and air cavalry units that dropped in behind advancing Amazonian forces. Meanwhile, Aztechnology forces attacked from within the city, effectively surrounding the Amazonians. The Battle of Bogotá had officially begun. > Guess Rifleman was right; all those shuffled units didn’t just go into the Sirrurg Task Forces. Damn, they pulled off one hell of a logistical sleight of hand. > Stone --- <Posted to ShadowSea, Aztlan-War Thread. October 4, 2074. Poster: Rabid Fire> > Fuck! I still can’t believe they took out that fucking dragon! Now the whole thing’s starting to come apart here in Bogotá. Sometime last night, gunfire started erupting all over the city. I know it’s Bogotá and those things just happen whenever they happen, but this is different. Two of my local contacts were wasted no more than three hours ago. Double-taps to the head. Definitely a professional job. Apparently all sorts of people with some kind of tie to Amazonia are being killed all over the city; it’s like a massive wetwork run! And fuck me sideways; I just got a message from Barney that he just found Tabby, butchered in our secondary safehouse. I can’t get a hold of the rest of the team. Fuck this shit; I should never’ve let Two-Tone talk me into coming down here, no matter how good the money was. Fuck him and his Azzie hatred for getting me into this shit. What the fuck? Now I’m hearing aircraft overhead, lots of them! There haven’t been any real flights over the city in years … okay, that’s it, I’m outta here. Anyone who’s working biz in Bogotá, get the FUCK out now! > Rabid Fire <Note: This was Rabid Fire’s last known post to ShadowSea> --- <From the personal journal of Sergeant-Major H. Martinez, 77th Independent Ranger Company “El Cuadrilla”> October 8, 2074 Location: 45 kilometers northeast of Bogotá I hoped to get my first full night’s sleep in months, but the Major called an emergency meeting to inform us the orders were in. We were to make way towards Bogotá to reinforce and cover the northern flank of an Amazonian push into the city. My guts told me that this whole thing was a giant mistake, and from the look on the Major’s face, she thought it too. But, like good soldiers we had our orders and made ready to move out. Just before we departed, we the first wave of Aztlan’s “counter assault” hit. A flight of Halcon fighter-bombers hit our position first, taking out most of our large transports and forcing us to scatter. I saw at least six T-birds of various types fly overhead past our position. Judging by their configuration, they were troop carriers. The Major then yelled orders to take up defensive positions and for the rocket crews to get ready, but two Paynal gunships broke off from the T-Bird group to begin attacking our positions with heavy machine gun and rocket fire. A few of our squads opened up with small-arms fire, but those gunships had heavier armor than usual. Still, it got their attention and gave Corporal Jones and his crew a chance to deploy their Ballistas. The gunship’s countermeasures defeated two rockets, but one connected squarely with one of the Paynal’s right engines. With one now crippled, the two gunships retreated while letting loose with their remaining rockets to cover their egress. We were battered, bloody, and no longer combat-effective. We lost most of our transports in the attack and our TacNet crew signaled multiple contacts coming in on our position, ETA ten minutes. It was time to move. The Major ordered all available equipment and the wounded gathered up. Anything left behind should be destroyed or booby-trapped. Taking only what we could to survive, we began the long trek through the jungle to the last known friendly position in Amazonia. I just hope it will still be there if we arrive. >>>End Sidebar --- October 12, 2074 Aztlan and Amazonian forces clashed in open warfare both in and outside of Bogotá. Amazonian forces were divided; some penetrated the city to attack from within while others fought in the surrounding wilderness. Aztlan airborne troops continued to attack Amazonian forces from the rear while Aztlan and Aztechnology troops inside the city continued with brutal street fighting. In the Gulf of Aztlan and the Pacific Ocean, Aztlan naval forces stationed themselves just off the Aztlan coast and provided artillery support in the form of cruise missiles. Several units from the north, including remnants of the Sirrurg Task Force’s ground units, also arrived in Bogotá and deployed around the city’s perimeter. Just north of the city along the disputed border, famed mercenary units MET2000 and Tsunami clashed as the Amazonian-contracted MET2000 attempted to engage Aztlan armor forces on the way to the city. > By this time, no one seemed to care about collateral damage, just killing the enemy. I haven’t seen such blatant disregard for civilians in my life. At least the Russians bothered to attack military targets, this … it just makes me sick > Fianchetto > I’ve done a lot of research into some of the magical aspects of this battle and frankly, it scares the hell out of me. It’s one thing to let loose with conventional weapons like this, but to do so with magic is almost suicide. I’d advise everyone to keep an eye on this place for even more magical problems in the future. > Winterhawk > Judging by the soldier’s reactions, I wonder if one of those rogue spirits, Maelstrom or Oblivion, were involved? > Glasswalker > You a betting man? > Kane > Actually, my information placed them in Denver at the time. > Elijah --- [part 5 missing] --- October 15, 2074 The Aztlan military established a no-fly zone extending in a fifty-kilometer radius around of Bogotá. This comes two days after Aztlan/Aztechnology forces cordoned off the city, cutting off all access to the outside world. This didn’t stop Amazonian forces and civilians from attempting to leave or enter the city. Current Aztlan rules of engagement gave their forces standing orders to shoot on sight any craft or vehicle attempting to enter or leave the city. Strict curfews were enacted as Aztechnology security forces cracked down on anyone suspected of working for or affiliation with Amazonia. Amazonia and several other countries protested this in a current UN meeting, citing the inability to get humanitarian relief into the city for trapped civilians. The Aztlan ambassador to the UN replied: “If you’re so concerned with civilians, then why did you enact sanctions in the first place! We are fighting for our very survival, and yet you all have turned it into a game of politics and punished us because of lies. No, we have defeated our greatest enemy and now we shall end the war our way!” Inside the city, conditions were barbaric. Leaked reports indicate widespread conflict over basic supplies and rampant disease. Orbital satellites showed that thirty percent of buildings in Bogotá are now destroyed or uninhabitable. Even the Aztechnology Business complex took significant damage. Fighting inside the city began to slow as Amazonian forces surrendered, but several groups continued to fight and the entire city remained under lockdown. Fighting outside of the city showed no sign of slowing as Amazonian forces continued to frustrate Aztlan soldiers in the rainforest. As a result, Aztlan began carpet-bombing several stretches of the rainforest to flush out Amazonian forces. Discipline problems were also on the rise among Aztlan troops; their commanders attributed it to stress and fatigue. > This definitely gets some attention in Amazonia, specifically that of Hualpa. Up until now, he was content to let his underlings handle things, but when this happened, he started to take a more personal interest in the war and didn’t like what he saw. > Frosty Aztlan began a PR campaign to showcase their new “relief centers” that offered aid to Bogotá’s beleaguered citizens, but these centers became the target of theft and attacks. The ad campaigns play this up, citing that “Aztlan is giving what little it has to the needy in Bogotá. Where is the UN?” This campaign had a positive effect for Aztlan as petitions came in, urging the UN to lift sanctions. The UN stubbornly refused, citing that Aztlan was still guilty of metahuman rights violations and possible war crimes. Horizon tried to counter with its own PR campaign, but several files leaked that indicate Horizon may have altered some of the footage to implicate and ultimately enact sanctions against Aztlan. The PR campaign backfired, and global support for Aztlan grew. > Dawkins Group Operatives: not just for military secrets anymore! > Slamm-0! --- <Excerpt from Aztlan PR ad, Oct 10, 2074> It began with an attack on a peaceful Aztlan medical research facility; technology-hating Amazonian terrorists tried to destroy decades of research intended to cure countless diseases. Why? Because the leaders of Amazonia want to take metahumanity back to the Stone Age and tell us what is the “right” way to live. They claimed Aztlan was developing weapons of mass destruction. Are vaccines weapons? And when Aztlan was forced to defend themselves, the entire world turned against them. First, they did nothing when the war criminal Sirrurg slaughtered thousands of innocent civilians at Cali. Then, when Aztlan was prevailing, they enacted sanctions based on lies and treachery. And now, when Aztlan defeats the war criminal and tries to share what little it still has to help the people of Bogotá, what does the UN do? They continue to make Aztlan and now the innocent people of Bogotá suffer as well. Contact your leaders and tell them that you feel it’s time to let Aztlan take care of its people. Tell them to urge the UN to lift sanctions on Aztlan and force Amazonia to end their destructive war. Because if we let one country tell another how to live, how long will it be before they tell you how to live? --- October 18-28, 2074 Amazonian forces, now desperate to end the war because of the carpet-bombing campaign, began planning a new offensive. From a staging base at Cali, members of MET2000 and Combat, Inc. planned to spearhead the attack against Aztlan forces outside of Bogotá. Members of Black Star, desperate and trapped inside of Bogotá, were ready to lead an attack against Aztlan and Aztechnology forces inside the city if they could get resupplied. Several shadowrunner teams were hired to complete the operation. Using the offensive as a diversion, some of these teams were successful, but most were killed or captured by Aztlan and Aztechnology forces. It is still enough to adequately re-supply Black Star and their allies, who launched their part of the offensive. > From what I’ve learned, Aufheben was the one who planned Black Star’s part in the offensive and personally led it. I don’t suppose we found anything new on him or Marcos, have we? > Traveler Jones > Absolutely zip at this point. > Glitch The offensive over the next week was exceptionally brutal, even by current war standards. In the city, Black Star led forces attacking Aztlan patrols, hoping to draw out a significant number into the mazes of rubble throughout the city. Black Star kept the patrols occupied while the MET and Combat, Inc. led forces engage the Aztlans outside of the city. Both sides went at each other in a rage. Black Star and their forces successfully drew Aztlan and Aztechnology troops into a series of running gun battles throughout the city. Civilians also joined the fighting, but elected to attack both sides equally. What began as isolated pockets of conflict degraded into a citywide melee. Heavy artillery and armor were deployed and aircraft of all kinds strafed all positions, sometimes their own. Spirits of all kinds, both free and bound, were turned loose and entered the fray. Magicians used spells until they collapsed from drain. Those not actively in the fight tried to flee, but were forced to defend themselves and join in on the carnage. Fires and explosions rocked the city as the fighting continues. Military commanders on both sides lost control, and secured themselves and whomever they could in bunkers to let the battle play out. > Wow, Sunshine, way to gloss things over. What happened to that “epic” piece you were going to write about the battle? > Slamm-0! > When you only have so much time, bandwidth, and information to work with, see how “epic” you can make it. > Sunshine > I watched from up here after securing my own little feed, and I can tell you it’s not for the faint of heart. One group would move, another would counter, only to get blown apart by some artillery shell or air strike that came from off-screen. And then there were the spirits. Oh ghost, I’ve never been so glad I’m up here in all my life. Of all the things I have to worry about, at least spirits aren’t one of them. I never realized how destructive they can be. I watched people literally tear each other apart when a mage mixed several fire spirits and air spirits and … well, I have the footage. Anyone want it? I’m not sure I want to keep it. > Orbital DK > I ran into a survivor last week; used to be a cabdriver in Bogotá. Now he’s trying to commit suicide by whiskey. He summed it up in one word: hell. > Traveler Jones --- [part 9 missing] --- > KAM, The Smiling Bandit, and I are forming a little project to look into this. Anyone who wants in, let me know. > Butch > Not to be an alarmist, but when Blue-227 was deployed around Acapulco, the altered jetstream sent a large cloud of this stuff in all sorts of directions, but some of it made its way down the coast. > Orbital DK Outside of the city, the battle continued. MET200K and Tsunami actively hunted each other and continued their grudge match from earlier in the month. Units from Combat, Inc. were caught out in the open several times and become easy fodder for Aztlan aircraft and gunships, but still managed to down seven Aztlan aircraft. Similar air strikes continued throughout the engagement zone, destroying more swaths of rainforest. Several smaller mercenary units and irregular individuals from both sides engaged each other throughout the battle, which turned into a vicious melee once ammunition was depleted. Various feeds of the action in Bogotá leaked, and the UN finally decided it was time to take action. On October 28, at approximately 1634 local time, a UN Peacekeeping force consisting of the mercenary Free Marine Corps Amphibious Readiness Group landed on the Aztlan coast near Cali. The CAS’ Kitty Hawk Battle Group is also stationed nearby to “render aid as needed.” The Peacekeeping force was under orders to end hostilities by force if necessary. The FMC quickly dispatched any hostiles encountered. > How the hell did they get there so quickly? > Cosmo > Well, if a dragon smashes your base and you suddenly had a chance for payback, you’d be motivated too. That, and did I mention they have an amphibious assault force ready to go pretty much all the time? It’s kind of their thing. > /dev/ grrl Before the FMC arrived, the fighting at Bogotá suddenly stopped. Participants and witnesses would later describe having a “switch” thrown inside of their minds, and they no longer wished to fight. All capable Amazonian units fled the area and made their way to the staging base at Cali, but FMC troops intercepted them and “took them into custody.” Aztlan forces secured in the bunkers beneath the business complex came out approximately one hour later to survey the damage and take control of the area. Members of Combat, Inc. and Black Star were specifically identified and taken into custody. While most members of these units were accounted for, several were still missing but presumed killed in the fighting. Those mercenaries operating under the articles of the Mercenary Guild were turned over to UN authorities. The remaining forces received orders to organize into a pursuit squad and head to Cali to eliminate any remaining Amazonian forces. The UN countermanded those orders and instead told the Aztlans to stand down and hold position. The FMC arrived two hours later to ensure compliance with the order. Supplemental forces arrived twelve hours later to augment FMC peacekeepers. > The UN wasn’t the only one watching. Soon after the Battle of Bogotá began, Hualpa finally got interested. He was in contact with the UN Secretary General before they fired the first shot. They had this planned for a while; once the ball started rolling downhill, Amazonia needed a way out of this war with being able to save a little face. > Plan 9 --- <Posted at the Outpost, Current Events: Aztlan/Bogotá, October 30, 2074. Poster: Liberator > > I give a toast to all my fallen brothers, the ones who tried to bring freedom and honor to South American soil. The one who tried to help a people retain their freedom and independence despite the two demons at their doors. This is also for those who did made it back, who fought the good fight and slipped through the demon’s fingers. Oh, wait. I’m the only one. That’s right. Black Star is no more. The one shining fucking light in the whole putrid mercenary trade is gone. And if anyone wants to come and collect the bounty on my sorry ass, feel free. I still got plenty of ammo and grenades left. But right now, I’m going to have another tall, cold one. > Liberator THE SMOKE CLEARS Posted by: Sunshine TO THE VICTOR GO THE SPOILS After almost four years of fighting, the two sides declared a cease-fire on October 28, 2074. Through the UN, the Amazonian great dragon and leader Hualpa announced that he was willing to end all hostilities to prevent any more destruction to the rainforest. Aztlan President Silva accepted the cease-fire and ordered all Aztlan forces to stand down. The official signing in Geneva on October 29 made the cease-fire official. Hualpa made a rare public appearance to sign the agreement personally as a show of good faith, although he refused to say anything. As per terms of the new agreement, Aztlan claimed the city of Bogotá and re-claimed the city of Cali. Aztlan, Amazonia, and the UN acknowledged a new border between the two nations, which extended a full sixty kilometers past the 2071 border and allowed for a three kilometer “buffer zone” between the two nations. Amazonia and Aztlan also agreed to allow UN peacekeepers to remain to help facilitate the transfer of power in local villages and to ensure that humanitarian aid was properly distributed. The Aztlan no-fly zone over Bogotá was lifted and the city’s borders were opened up as all sanctions against Aztlan were lifted. --- All Hail the Conquering Heroes November 3, 2074. Aztlan President Enrico Silva addresses the People of Aztlan, broadcast on all Aztlan Stations <President Silva stands in front of the podium in the Presidential Chamber after fifteen minutes of applause> My fellow citizens, WE ARE VICTORIOUS! <Excessive applause for another ten minutes> This is not a victory one person can claim. This is a victory for and by the Aztlan people. For almost four years we struggled through a war of many adversaries on many fronts. On the battlefield, our brave and loyal soldiers fought and died defending us against our enemies. They fought in the deepest recesses of the rainforests, at the summit of the tallest mountains, in the skies among the clouds, and at times on the waves of the sea. Our brave soldiers fought everywhere for us because they knew that our way of life and our very lives were at stake. When the time came, and the call to duty sounded, they answered it without question, without hesitation, knowing full well that they may never return. Time and time again they stood up to look death in the eye. Time and time again they stood up against the legions of our enemies and held their ground, despite whatever horror was placed in their path. They stood their ground when the accursed Sirrurg destroyed Cali. And though our enemies that day sought to break our will, to send us running in fear, to surrender, it was the inspiration of the valiant men and women of our armed forces who gave us the resolve to defeat the evil that threatened our existence! Their sacrifice calls out: Avenge us! Bring us justice! Remember us … and remember them we shall. The Cali War Memorial is already in planning. And as it will be a fitting tribute to our brave soldiers, it will also stand as a monument, a testament, to the great people of Aztlan. For you are just as responsible for our victory as they were. For you not only provided them with the courage to fight, you provided them the reason. For if a person does not have something to fight for, why fight at all? But that is not the only reason. You the Aztlan people suffered and fought as much as they did. When the world turned its back on you, you did not bow, spit in your face for no other reason that you were of Aztlan. You stood tall. You toiled for your country, made the sacrifices necessary to provide our soldiers what they needed to fight, to win. And most importantly, when all was darkest, you all kept hope alive. So always remember that this victory is also yours. <EXCESSIVE APPLAUSE> My people, my friends, my family. We did not ask for this war, we did not even want this war, but if someone comes to us again and wishes to make war against us, by the gods, we will make such a war, that no other nation will ever dare think of making war against the Aztlan people ever again! <EXCESSIVE APPLAUSE> > Anyone else feel ill reading this? > Slamm-0! --- PICKING UP THE PIECES Despite the last few years of being crucified in the court of public opinion, Aztlan and Aztechnology came out of the war looking like absolute heroes. Aztlan and Aztechnology’s PR department went into overdrive in the last weeks of the war, painting Aztlan as victims who, despite pressures surrounding them, overcame all odds and defeated their opponents. And when you defeat a great dragon, the world takes notice. And even though Aztlan looked good after the war, that was about all it had going for it. The war took its toll on the country in several ways. With their military and economy in shambles to bring about the end if Sirrurg, it will take a while to recover and they’ll need to rely more and more on Aztechnology. While the Path of the Sun priesthood is still struggling, they are recovering. Aztlan’s victory caused a resurgence of interest in priesthood, and now the Path of the Sun has gone global. As of this writing, things are still pretty foggy about what’s happening in Amazonia. Right after the signing of the cease-fire, Hualpa disappeared along with the other dragons (more on that in another file). But he left Amazonia in a lot of turmoil when he relieved Marcela Ruiz, the chief Amazonian diplomat, and his own translator, Maria Locasin of their respective duties. Of course, no one’s seen them sense. Bogotá is currently in the process of rebuilding, and Aztechnology has de facto control. The Free Marine Corps and other UN peacekeepers are still there to handle the minor insurgent incident, but they’re scheduled to demobilize by March of 2075. But I’d still keep an eye on Bogotá. Even though Aztechnology claims that most of the criminal element is “under control,” don’t bet on it. Aztlan and --- [part 14 missing] --- down a few pegs and get some contracts in Aztlan. Good luck, though. > Mr. Bonds. > Also, look for Aztlan and Aztechnology to start working on some “other” problems like the Yucatan and Denver. > Pyramid Watcher > Hey, better late than never, but I found Hard Exit! She’s back home in Atlanta and well, she’s alive. It took a while but I found out what happened to her. She and her crew were hired to pull some VIPs out of Bogotá after it was closed off. Long story short, their ride out was compromised (read: blown to hell) and they had to take shelter to reassess their options. A stray artillery round hit the building they’re in, killing the rest but burying Hard Exit alive. She was down there, in a two-meter space for over a week before a UN rescue team found her. I went to see her, and I could tell she was shaken. She won’t admit it, but she’s hurting. Something is wrong. > Stone > The only thing that’s fucking wrong is that people need to leave me the fuck alone for a while. I don’t need any damn pity and I sure as hell don’t need any coddling here. I can still handle my shit. > Hard Exit > OK, well since we’re on the subject of good news: I think I found Marcos. Problem is, he was in the company of some ghost cartel types and went back with them to one of their compounds. I know his last run was trying to get supplies into Bogotá before he went off the grid but at least he’s alive. > Sticks > And I bet he’ll have one hell of a story to tell. > Glitch South America has been through the wringer in the past few years. And for all the destruction, changing players, and changing rules, it is still a place where the shadows run deep. Because now that the militaries have receded, that’s where the war will continue to be fought. [EOF] And if anybody came too late to see the full cover: http://imgur.com/4BsfU |
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Dec 24 2012, 03:14 AM
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#35
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Moving Target Group: Dumpshocked Posts: 963 Joined: 15-February 11 From: Tir Tairngire Member No.: 21,972 |
Stupid waiting for twitter.
Stupid stupid stupid. |
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Dec 26 2012, 03:44 PM
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#36
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Moving Target Group: Dumpshocked Posts: 586 Joined: 27-January 07 From: United States Member No.: 10,812 |
I may just be dense, but where do I enter the code in the first step?
I am using IE 8 (and can't install a different browser) on this computer if that matters. |
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Dec 27 2012, 03:26 AM
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#37
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Running Target Group: Members Posts: 1,018 Joined: 3-July 10 Member No.: 18,786 |
QUOTE (Iduno @ Dec 26 2012, 04:44 PM) I may just be dense, but where do I enter the code in the first step? I am using IE 8 (and can't install a different browser) on this computer if that matters. http://imgur.com/L4Ho0 On shadowruntabletop.com |
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Dec 27 2012, 02:20 PM
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#38
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Moving Target Group: Dumpshocked Posts: 586 Joined: 27-January 07 From: United States Member No.: 10,812 |
QUOTE (Halinn @ Dec 26 2012, 11:26 PM) I got that to work, but there was no place to enter the code on the first story. It worked with firefox on my personal laptop when I got back to it. Actually, I just finished the company logo drag-and-drop puzzle this morning. |
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Jan 1 2013, 02:03 AM
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#39
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Shooting Target Group: Dumpshocked Posts: 1,755 Joined: 5-September 06 From: UCAS Member No.: 9,313 |
(Thenewblack) leads to this.
http://www.shadowruntabletop.com/coming-so...rtful-dodger-3/ |
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Jan 1 2013, 02:17 AM
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#40
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Shooting Target Group: Dumpshocked Posts: 1,755 Joined: 5-September 06 From: UCAS Member No.: 9,313 |
Found some examples of encryption used in story at MIT.edu. No decryption yet though.
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Jan 1 2013, 06:34 AM
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#41
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Running Target Group: Members Posts: 1,018 Joined: 3-July 10 Member No.: 18,786 |
The letters of different colors after the encrypted text spell out ROT13. You figure out the rest.
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Jan 1 2013, 06:32 PM
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#43
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Great Dragon Group: Dumpshocked Posts: 5,082 Joined: 3-October 09 From: Kohle, Stahl und Bier Member No.: 17,709 |
Updated my collection of the stories http://forums.dumpshock.com/index.php?show...25#entry1199313
New and improved Matrix, with layered grids again...and deckers |
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Jan 1 2013, 09:44 PM
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#44
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The King In Yellow Group: Dumpshocked Posts: 6,922 Joined: 26-February 05 From: JWD Member No.: 7,121 |
I'm quite amused. I wonder if they'll use the SR2050 rules and make the Matrix even less playable. But I'm quite amused indeed, since that's what I houseruled the Matrix to be like all along.
The thing with Twitter is really annoying, though. What's that supposed to be? Except cursing their audience, that is. |
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Jan 1 2013, 10:14 PM
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#45
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Running Target Group: Members Posts: 1,018 Joined: 3-July 10 Member No.: 18,786 |
QUOTE (hermit @ Jan 1 2013, 10:44 PM) The thing with Twitter is really annoying, though. What's that supposed to be? Except cursing their audience, that is. Probably some advertising guy said that it would "provide interaction with the community" or something stupid like that. |
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Jan 1 2013, 11:13 PM
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#46
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The King In Yellow Group: Dumpshocked Posts: 6,922 Joined: 26-February 05 From: JWD Member No.: 7,121 |
They can afford advertising guys?
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Jan 2 2013, 01:07 PM
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#47
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Great Dragon Group: Dumpshocked Posts: 5,082 Joined: 3-October 09 From: Kohle, Stahl und Bier Member No.: 17,709 |
QUOTE (hermit @ Jan 1 2013, 10:44 PM) I'm quite amused. I wonder if they'll use the SR2050 rules and make the Matrix even less playable. A layered structure in fluff does not have to impact game play all that much, most IRL applications see little of the Interconnected Network beneath (IMG:style_emoticons/default/wink.gif) QUOTE The thing with Twitter is really annoying, though. What's that supposed to be? Except cursing their audience, that is. Haven't you heard? Everything needs more Web 2.0, social media, facebook connections, widgets, vlogs, user generated content...because...well..some guy with a mohawk said so? |
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Jan 2 2013, 05:01 PM
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#48
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The King In Yellow Group: Dumpshocked Posts: 6,922 Joined: 26-February 05 From: JWD Member No.: 7,121 |
QUOTE Haven't you heard? Everything needs more Web 2.0, social media, facebook connections, widgets, vlogs, user generated content...because...well..some guy with a mohawk said so? I'm pretty certain even said Pink Mohawk Guy doesn't want companies to irritate their users like this. Anyway, it's really badly done. They should fire their advert guy and instead hire an editor who compensates for Hardy's failures. QUOTE A layered structure in fluff does not have to impact game play all that much, most IRL applications see little of the Interconnected Network beneath Actually, yes, it has to impact gameplay, the way it is presented at least. And I was only speculating, since they probably have to throw together the rules book on short notice, being CGL and everything. |
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Jan 2 2013, 06:35 PM
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#49
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Great Dragon Group: Dumpshocked Posts: 5,082 Joined: 3-October 09 From: Kohle, Stahl und Bier Member No.: 17,709 |
QUOTE (hermit @ Jan 2 2013, 06:01 PM) I'm pretty certain even said Pink Mohawk Guy I was thinking of an obnoxious red mohawk guy (IMG:style_emoticons/default/wink.gif) |
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Jan 2 2013, 11:32 PM
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#50
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The King In Yellow Group: Dumpshocked Posts: 6,922 Joined: 26-February 05 From: JWD Member No.: 7,121 |
Me too. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/biggrin.gif) After all, he's always ranting about badly utilised social media shenanigans.
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Lo-Fi Version | Time is now: 28th April 2024 - 02:46 PM |
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