Nothing's Free in the Free Zone (IC), Adventure 1: Broken Star Options

[Lobo0705]

It was another hot day in the Warrens, the sun beating down on Jack, raising beads of sweat from his brow. Sitting outside Nic's Knacks, he leaned back in his favorite chair, an old and tattered Barcalounger that Nic had scavenged from only he knew where. Taking a sip of what passed for beer, rapidly warming in the July sun, Jack paged through the latest virtual copy of The Denver Tribune on his commlink. The document shimmered and warped as he tried to read it, the combination of poor signal form the public Grid and the static caused by lack of signal repeaters causing his 'eyes almost to cross as he read it.

Nic was busy about 50 yards away in Sunrise Park, the old troll hobbling along looking for anything of value that might be left behind. A trio of young punks, their jackets marked with a stylized triple-8 sauntered past him, the swagger in their step exaggerated by the invincibility only the very young or very foolish still feel. Despite their braggadocio, they gave Nic a polite nod as they walked past him, knowing that the juice wasn't worth the squeeze to push around the old troll. One of them even glanced over at Jack, nodded as if to acknowledge his guardianship over his friend.

A chirping sound came from the Ikon in his hand, and Jack pressed a few buttons to pull up the message, the address indicating it is from Chapel.

<<Hello Jack, I have a job opportunity for you. It is a for a friend of mine, so he will be handling the details, but I can vouch for him. If you are interested, please contact me.>>

[Jack VII]

Jack took a swig of the Aztlona soyveza straight from the bottle. Auburn, huh? I wonder if he took a pay cut to come play for the Broncs'... the ork thought. Adjusting his glasses, Jack scrolled through the rest of the Tribune headlines as the Matrix connection came and went. "Is this even news?" he asked no one in particular, "A government employee taking a bribe? Seriously..."

Pressing a button on his Ikon, Jack placed his glasses' image link in SUBDUED mode, increasing the display's transparency property to 95%. Looking around, he noticed Nic hobbling around the park. Never stops working, Jack thought to himself as he spotted a few Trey Eights walking near his friend. As far as gangs went, the Trey Eights didn't seem too bad, they at least afforded Nic some respect and that's about all anyone could ask for in Aurora. He knew it was just as likely that he would be cracking some of their skulls later on, but that was just life in the Warrens. Jack returned the ganger's nod with a ghost of a smile. No reason to be impolite.

Returning the image link to the STANDARD setting, Jack finished reading the newspaper. A story about a drug overdose epidemic in the Warrens caught his eye. It was a somewhat surprising article to see in the Tribune. Most reporters didn't bother reporting on the Warrens as the majority of the paper's readers wouldn't give a frag what happened here. For Jack though, knowing what was going on in his neighborhood was important for survival. An uptick in drug overdoses could mean a number of things, not the least of them being a new dealer in the neighborhood with new product. When a dealer intruded on another dealer's turf, it didn't usually end well. It was also helpful to know about big gatherings. Calling up his calendar, he added a new event on July 31st to note the Rebuilding Together Rally in Horseshoe Park. He also downloaded the article, figuring his friend Amy might be interested in it.

As he finished the paper, a notification window opened in his field of view as the Ikon chirped. Reading through Chapel's message, Jack was intrigued. Standing up from the dilapidated Barcalounger, Jack walked toward Nic and sent a quick reply.

<<A man's got to work. I'm free, please send me the meet details, chummer>>

Getting close to Nic, Jack called out, "Come on, you old trog, I may have a job."

Gear List

[ Spoiler ]

Horn Rim Glasses w/Flare Comp, Image Link, Vision Enhancement (2): 1,675 (W)
Earbuds w/Audio Enhancement (3): 1,650 (W)
Hermes Ikon (5) w/Subvocal Mic: 3,050
Bio-monitor: 300 (W)
Internal Air Tank (3) [Alpha] (W)
Muscle Replacement (2) [Alpha]
Skilljack (4) [Used] (W)
Skillwires (4) [Used]
Smartlink [Alpha] (W)
Spurs [Alpha]
Wired Reflexes (1) [Alpha] (W)

Current Skillsoft
Free-Fall (1), Gymnastics (2), Navigation (2), Running (3), Unarmed Combat (4)

[Lobo0705]

While Jack greeted his old friend, the morning found Grease in a much different setting. Waking in his air conditioned apartment in Montbello, he stretched luxuriously in his bed before rising and moving to the kitchen for his morning soykaf. The soykaf machine burbled contentedly as he approached, and ever since he fixed it last week it no longer spouted boiling hot liquid all over his hand as he removed the cup.

The virtual edition of the Tribune opened itself in front of him, the data streamed directly through the optic nerve due to the his neural interface. He paged through it as he put on his overalls, finished his coffee, and grabbed a stuffer - this one proclaiming proudly that it contained Real Butter Substitute ™.

Unwrapping the package with his teeth as he opened the door to his workshop, he began getting ready for his daily ritual, lovingly cleaning, polishing, and tinkering with his car. As he took his first bite of the stuffer, two messages opened up as separate windows in his field of vision.

The first showed a friendly human face, brown hair worn short and parted to the side. The man's eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, the rest of his face behind a well trimmed beard. <<Hello Henry, it has been too long. When are you and I going to go out to dinner again? You know what, let's not leave it to chance. Lunch, a week from Thursday, my treat - I'll PM you the details.>> Grease smiled, trust Chapel to bring up food within the first three sentences out of his mouth. <<In the meantime, I've got some work you might be interested in, if you aren't too busy.>>

The face on the other screen is almost the exact opposite of Chapel's. A sour faced Ork with a scar running down the right side of his cheek, receding hair slicked back over his head, and a cigar hanging out of his mouth - Lieutenant Murphy could never be called likeable. On a good day, you might consider him "mildly offensive", but those were few and far between.

<<Grease. Grease. Grease!! I know you can hear me, pick up. Fine, play it that way. Need a favor. Its a small one - shouldn't put you out much. Nothin' at all really. In fact, you probably owe me one. Get back to me when you are done playin' with your car.>>

[Lobo0705]

Meanwhile, back in the Warrens, Amy and Overkill were going to a meeting. They were in what remained of Peoria Elementary school. The building had been vacant for the past 20 years, as time continued to pass without any funding being channeled into the Warrens. With the looming threat of the bulldozing of the entire area, no one was willing to put in a nuyen more than they had to. As Overkill and Amy walked through the halls, they could see the faded murals painted by the children long ago, peeking out between the tags of different gangs - some actual paint and some in A/R. Large, garish letters proclaimed the supposed dominance of the BBs or Trey 8's, or for lesser known gangs like the Hellhounds, Los Magnificos, and White Tigers.

Amy felt a profound sadness as she walked through the halls, her astral sight revealing the haunting memories of the children of ages past. If this place were left open, Sam could have gone here. She could have gotten a real education, instead of what I can manage to fit in between trying to make enough money to feed us.

Overkill walked in silence next to her, lost in the thought, senses split between the real world around him and the virtual world he perceived through AR. Manchmal ist dieser Ort fühlt sich schlechter als Berlin. Sie haben gerade ihre Leute verlassen, und niemand bereit ist zu kämpfen, ihnen zu helfen scheint. As they approached the gym, he revised that thought, well, almost no one. There, standing on the stage, speaking to a crowd of fifty or so souls, was Chomsky.

Chomsky was one of the few who still fought the good fight. Not from the Warrens himself, Chomsky had been born Jared Walker, and had grown up in an affluent area of Englewood. He had long ago run out of money, having used the majority of it in service of the poor and SINless who lived in this hellhole. Today, Amy and Overkill were here to show support, as Chomsky was attempting to broaden the reach of his organization.

He could be heard speaking loudly to the crowd, his voice rebounding off of the cinder-block walls, adorned with a few banners proclaiming victories of children from long ago. Standing next to him was a young woman, pretty, dark skinned, her long black hair swept back into a pony-tail revealing the pointed ears of her metatype. "And with the help of other organizations like Rebuilding Together, we can spread our message faster. We can bring in more people, more funds, and make the politicians in the Zone notice us!" The crowd cheered, and young Amy and even cynical Overkill had a smile brought to their faces by the sheer earnestness of the man.

"Please there are refreshments provided by Ms. Greeley on the table. I know some of you haven't had a chance to eat today. Please, take some food, and if you have questions, please come see us."

As Amy and Overkill were deciding whether or not to get some food before going to see Chomsky and Greeley, Overkill received a message from Chapel. <<Overkill, nice to see you again. I have some work if you are interested, and I've thought about the young shaman you spoke of the last time we met. I think there is room for her on the team. If you are interested, let me know - and if you can pass the word on to her, see if she is interested as well.>>

[Lobo0705]

Jack, outside Nic's Knacks, 11:00 AM, July 29th, 2075

<<Glad to hear you can make it Jack. Always good to have a professional on the team.>>

Another chirp, and the image link puts up a holopic of a tall hispanic man. Six foot four, around 250 lbs, he is well past his prime, but although he has started to run to paunch, there is still muscle underneath. The bronze star on his chest and bars on his shirt show he is a Lone Star Captain.

<<His name is Juan Ramirez, and I will be forgoing my usual cut on this one, as Juan and I go way back. I'll let him explain all the details, but you can trust this one Jack, he's one of the good guys.>> Chapel's face turns a wry smile, as if to say, How few remain.

<<He has a room at the old Motel 6 on East Smokey Hill. When you get to there, tell the clerk you have a room reserved under the name Smythe, and he'll bring you there. I've asked a couple of others to come along, so don't be surprised if you aren't the only one heading to the room. He will be expecting you at 8:00 tonight.>>

As Chapel's message plays out through his ear buds, Nic slowly comes closer. "Boy, I can still kick your ass. See if I don't. Hmmph." Nic pulls an old scanner out of a satchel he has over his shoulder, blows on it, and then buffs it with his sleeve as if it were a genie's bottle. "Little bit of work and this will be good as new." He looks up at Jack. "So what's this about a job?"

[Jack VII]

Jack, outside Nic's Knacks, 11:00 AM, July 29th, 2075

"I actually think you probably could take me, Nic. You're too hard-headed a fragger to admit defeat," the ork joked.

At the conclusion of Chapel's message, Jack put together a final text to his fixer:
<<Message received, Chapel. I'll be there with bells on.>>

"Looks like I have something lined up with one of the Stars. You know I would normally turn down a job like that, but Chapel says he's on the level. His read on people has always been pretty solid." Checking the time display on his image link, Jack continued, "The meet isn't until tonight, so I'll probably head out around 1730. I need about two hours to prep before I leave, so you got me for another three or four hours. Put these hands to work."

Calling up his Contact List, Jack composed a message to Amy and attached the Tribune article he downloaded earlier:
<<@Amy: Hey chummer, saw this in the Trib. Thought you might find it interesting.>>

[DrZaius]

Grease, at home in Montbello, 10:45 AM, July 29th, 2075

Admiring his gunmetal grey Beemer with pride, Grease browses through the Tribune with disinterest. ""Gemini: you will be forced to turn on your friends and betray all that you love."" Well, that sounds grim." Seeing the notifications pop up on his commlink, Grease swipes the AR display of the paper away from his field of vision and thinks about his response. Quickly checking his personal credit account (low), he writes to Chapel, <<I'd love to go out to dinner with you. You always pick the best spots, and it's the best priced meal in the city! I'm pretty swamped today, but what's up? I could stand to hear about work.>>

Quickly swapping screens to respond to Murphy, Grease affects disinterest and composes the message with a frown.

<<Lieutenant, you should know me well enough to know I'm never done 'playing with my car'. That said, Who am I to refuse a favor to one of Denver's finest? However, my personal accounting differs from yours slightly; I tally that you owe me 12 small favors, 2 large ones, and your life for that thing with that guy. I'm nothing if not magnanimous; maybe you can pay me back with something big someday. Let's hear your favor.>>

[Lobo0705]

Grease, at home in Montbello, 10:45 AM, July 29th, 2075

The video windows open again, this time with Murphy's message arriving first.

The ork's face on his video message turns even uglier - the corners of his mouth drawing upward into a frightening rictus, exposing teeth stained dark yellow by nicotine and soykaf. Grease knows this is Murphy's version of a smile.

<<You've got balls, Grease, one of the only reasons I like you. That, and your credit is usually good. This one's easy, we just need eyes and ears on someone, and the Star isn't too popular in the Warrens right now. There's a big meeting coming up in the Warrens later this week, some slot named Greeley is running it. I got orders to have someone keep an eye on the meeting, make see what's going on, without putting any Star personnel in harm's way.>>

Taking a puff out of the cigar, he pulls it out to take swig of soykaf. Grimacing, which pulls his face in even more horrifying directions, he liberally adds liquor to the 'kaf from a bottle in his desk. Taking another belt out of the up, he nods, and then puts the cigar back.

<<All in all, the meeting should take a couple hours of your time, I can probably shake loose about a grand from the CI fund to make it worth your while.>>

As Murphy finishes, Grease plays the second message, this one from Chapel.

<<Excellent. I'm thinking Cafe Giovanni over on Market. They do an excellent late lunch. In the meantime, a friend of mine needs some help. He is footing the bill on this one, so I'll leave the details to him. He's a Captain at Lone Star, just to give fair warning, but he is not looking to "jam you up", I believe is the phrase. He has a room at the old Motel 6 on East Smokey Hill. When you get to there, tell the clerk you have a room reserved under the name Smythe, and he'll bring you there. I've asked a couple of others to come along, so don't be surprised if you aren't the only one heading to the room. He will be expecting you at 8:00 tonight. Good luck, looking forward to lunch.>>

[Always Overkill]

Drave turned of the recording in the corner of his AR, reaching over on the retro-green display reminiscent of the ancient computers of the 1970s and 80s and placing in the appropriate file on the far right of his vision He admired the speech
from Chomsky to this crowd of downtrodden people who were tired of being walked on. He doubted some of them had eaten a good meal outside of rehydrated soy in a month, let alone that day. He had to give the kid credit, Chomsky had a
way with words that could speak to intellectuals just as well as your average joe. He didn't know too much about this new organization, Rebuilding Together, and he had his suspicions. But just maybe they could provide a little support in this
very-big struggle to give the people of the Warrens something other than the short end of the stick. He would do his research on them anyways, if to prove to know one other than himself that this group was legit.

Drave was about to turn to Amy, the young comrade Drave had seen grow from an angry teenager frustrated by the desperation her and others around her were forced to live in, into one of the most ardent and impassioned voices of the
community; and motion that he was headed past the food to the soykaf machine in the corner, when he noticed Chapel's message pop up in the corner of his display. He read through the message and promptly replied.

<<@Chapel: Guten Tag, old friend; nice to see you as well. I cannot speak for my young compatriot here, but I am always interested in the right job. Perhaps this is one of them. Send any info you can and I will speak to
Amy on your behalf momentarily.>>

He closed the message window after he was done, looking down with eyes glowing the same faint retro-green of his AR display behind his ever-present sunglasses (and yes, he appreciates the cliche') at Amy with his usual sarcastic grin. "It
looks like we may get to try out a few of those "tricks" of yours a bit sooner than we thought; if you think you're ready." When Drave spoke it was obvious that English was not his first language, the German accent and the inflections he grew
up using in Berlin were still there despite his fluent skill with the language. "Lets speak with Chomsky and afterwards I will give you the details of your first trip into the shadows." As he waited for the smile to appear on Amy's face at the news,
I hope she is ready. is all that could come to mind.

[Chrome Head]

Amy and Overkill, Peoria Elementary school's gym, 11:00 AM, July 29th, 2075

Amy would have liked to make it here earlier and listen to the whole speech. Chomsky had a way with words that truly inspired people, her included.

This new organization he was speaking of was intriguing. People from outside rarely got interested in the lot of the poor and SINless living in the Warrens. And when they did, there was always an ulterior motive. And Chomsky knew this very well and yet he trusted this woman. Could this really be different from the usual? Should I really keep my hopes up? Corps and governments and their underlings were all on it to deprive everyone else of their freedom, their will to fight, even their very soul, after all. From afar, Amy took a peek with her second sight and observed the aura of that Ms. Greeley in detail.

As she was about to go see Chomsky, a beep from her commlink startled her. I really need to change the sounds on this damn thing. It was Jack, ironically with a message about the people in this very room. She took a mental note to record a reply for him after this -- she was a slow typist and preferred to leave voice messages.

As she was muting her "machine", Overkill was telling her of something he had read from his own machine. "I feel ready. Do you think it's gonna pay well?" she asked with hope in her voice.

[Lobo0705]

Jack, outside Nic's Knacks, 11:00 AM, July 29th, 2075

I'll certainly take you up on that offer. Grab the toolkit over there and follow me." Nic slowly turns and begins to move in his shuffling gait down South Genoa Court toward E Loyola Circle. Jack picks up the kit and quickly catches up with his friend, and slows to match his pace.

"Got an alert a car showed up about a quarter mile down the road, 2065 Ford Americar. The back half is smashed to hell, but I think we can salvage some of the engine parts. To much for me to do on my own, so I was going to let it go - but now that I've got your capable hands, I can maybe make a nuyen or two. Assuming its still there."

Nic takes a moment to wipe his brow, the sweat dripping down around his horns and falling on the ground. "Working with the Star - sounds risky. Still, everything you've told me about this Chapel seems on the level."

As the two friends move down the road, Jack's enhanced vision sees the car Nic mentioned, on the side of the road, hood popped, and with two humans already bent over the engine, and a third leaning up against the car.

[Jack VII]

Jack, near the intersection of South Genoa Court and East Loyola Circle, 11:10 AM, July 29th, 2075

"Sure thing, Nic."
Jack grabbed the tool bag and followed Nic down South Genoa Court. Nodding at Nic's assessment, Jack silently chuckled at the "nuyen or two" comment. While his chosen profession certainly wasn't lucrative, he stood to make a bit more than that given Nic's Knacks undeniable lack of much business overhead beyond the occasional protection money or bribe. Jack surprisingly had a head for numbers and a decent understanding of business. He had no idea where he would have acquired that particular talent, but made use of it to the best of his ability. One of those uses was setting Nic up with an actual business plan and proper accounting so he has an idea of how much profit he's actually clearing.

As they near the site of the junker, Jack spots a few people already digging around the car. "Looks like someone may have already jumped your claim, Nic. Let me see if I can clear the vultures out..." Jack says in a low voice.

Approaching the three, Jack moves to put himself between them and Nic and says loudly, "Hoi, fellas! Are you chums with the wrecker service?" Jack pretends to look around, as if looking for a tow vehicle. "I thought I cancelled the tow last night. My car isn't worth anything but scrap at this point, I just figured I'd strip it here."

Closer, the ork also takes a second-glance at them, trying to assess their level of threat.

[Lobo0705]

Amy and Overkill, Peoria Elementary school's gym, 11:00 AM, July 29th, 2075

There is movement in corner of Overkill's virtual display, and a new message comes in from Chapel.

<<Glad to hear it. This particular job is for a friend of mine, so I hope you will keep an open mind. His name is Juan Ramirez, and he is a Captain with Lone Star. He has a room at the old Motel 6 on East Smokey Hill. When you get to there, tell the clerk you have a room reserved under the name Smythe, and he'll bring you there. I've asked a couple of others to come along, so don't be surprised if you aren't the only one heading to the room. He will be expecting you at 8:00 tonight. I know that you and authorities don't mesh well, but he is someone who honestly wants to help.>>


In the meantime, Chomsky and Shannon have moved off of the stage and are working their way through the crowd, speaking to each in turn as they past. Shannon stays near Chomsky, and both of them seem genuinely interested in the people they meet and greet. Chomsky catches a glimpse of Amy and Overkill and gives a wave, before turning back to the elderly woman in front of him.

[Lobo0705]

Jack, near the intersection of South Genoa Court and East Loyola Circle, 11:10 AM, July 29th, 2075

The three "men" turn around at the sound of Jack's voice. A quick glance shows the oldest to be around 15. They are all Hispanic, with shaven heads and the letters LM tattooed on their necks. They wear oversize t-shirts over jeans. The one leaning against the side of the car preens and steps forward, pulling up his shirt front to reveal a pistol tucked into the waist band of his pants.


"We ain't no repo crew, son - and you ain't the owner. I jacked this thing last night, and you don't look nothin' like the chica I stole it from." The other two stand to either side of him, looking a little less sure of themselves, but willing to back their erstwhile leader.

"Now step off before you and your old man get hurt." He spits disdainfully on the ground.

Jack's imagelink registers a text from Nic - who's neural link allows him to utilize his commlink without moving. <<Stall them a little bit, I have a plan>>

[Jack VII]

Jack, near the intersection of South Genoa Court and East Loyola Circle, 11:10 AM, July 29th, 2075

At the sight of the gun, Jack mentally activates his wired reflexes and drops the toolkit. Going along with the apparent leader's story and trying to buy Nic some time, he growls, "You're right, nino, I don't look like the chica you boosted this car from, but I do look like the angry boyfriend of the chica you jacked. She said she got into a wreck, but this changes things."

Pausing briefly as he tries to buy time for Nic to do whatever he has planned, Jack continues, "The way I see it, you bobos got a few options. You can try to scrap with us. Sure, it's two versus three, but that's three humans versus an orc and a troll. That's probably even odds, even with that pistola you're strapping. Maybe you take us, maybe you don't. Even if you do, we aren't carrying anything worthwhile other than a few tools, so is that car going to be worth one or all of you dying over? Not to mention the sounds of a fight are surely going to attract locals who may want to see what's going on, they'll probably be more dangerous than the two of us. Or, you can be astuto and decide this isn't worth it. Your choice."

[DrZaius]

Grease, at home in Montbello, 11:20 AM, July 29th, 2075

<<@Murphy: Well, provided I'm not in too much harm's way, that shouldn't be a problem. Send me the details (along with my normal fee) of the meet and I will report back.>>

Stretching, Grease tinkers with his car for a few minutes while thinking. Not wanting to get any Star in harm's way? What kind of meeting am I attending? If rent wasn't due...

<<@Chapel: Excellent; I trust you will make the arrangements. It's been too long, there's so much I need to catch up on. I will be at the meet. Do you have any additional information on the Captain? I'd like to know who I'm working for before I get too deep with someone who may not be trustworthy. Also, do I know anyone else who might be attending? I'm not working with that jackass Brickhouse again, I'm still buffing the dings out from when he slid across my hood like he was some kind of trid-star.>>

[Lobo0705]

Jack, near the intersection of South Genoa Court and East Loyola Circle, 11:10 AM, July 29th, 2075

The other two blanch at Jack's words, taking an unconscious step back. The leader eases his gun into his hand, but doesn't point it at the duo yet.

"Back off man, this is our car."

The two sides stare at each other for a short time, neither side making a move. Jack and Nic looking confident and threatening, and the teens looking more and more like discretion would be the better part of valor.

Nic nods to Jack, and leans forward, fixing the leader with a steely eye. "Those Los Mags tattoos say you are a long way from home, esse." He cocks his head to the side, as if listening for something. In the near distance the sounds of engines can be heard getting closer. "Hear that? While we've been standing here, I've made a call. Those are the Trey-Eights coming to see why the Los Mags are here on their territory. I can guarantee you there are alot more than three of them."


The sweat on the leaders face now has nothing to do with the heat, and then he and his friends move quickly to get on their bikes . "This ain't over putos." They speed away, disappearing around the corner in a few seconds.

"Pick up that tool kit for me will you? My back is starting to hurt." Nic moves over to the car and starts poking around under the hood, making clicking noises with his tongue as he surveys the damage the clumsy gangers have done to the engine.

[Jack VII]

Jack, near the intersection of South Genoa Court and East Loyola Circle, 11:15 AM, July 29th, 2075

As the gangers speed away, Jack laughed. "Good play there, Nic. I figured they were gangers of some sort, but didn't recognize the ink. Glad they backed down, last thing I wanted was to get caught in a fight without any kind or protection."

Grabbing the toolkit, Jack rests it on the side of the engine well and prepares to hand Nic whatever he needs to strip the car of its worth.

"Now that I made new friends, can you tell me what you know about the Los Mags?"

[Lobo0705]

Grease, at home in Montbello, 11:30 AM, July 29th, 2075

Murphy's next response comes in the form of a text message. <<What fairyland do you live in that you think you are getting up front? Payment upon completion as normal. The meet is scheduled for 8:00 PM on the 31st at Horseshoe Park. You can't miss it, it is right off of East Iliff Avenue. Look for the big group of homeless looking at the pretty elf.>> Attached is a holopic of Greeley, an attractive elven woman in her 20's.

Chapel's next reply shows him to be a little confused. <<Henry, I vouched for Ramirez - I thought that would be good enough between the two of us. I shall indulge your curiosity but am a little hurt. He is a Captain from Vice who also handles the death benefits for Lone Star officers killed in the line of duty. He and I have had several dealings in the past where we've taken some very bad people off of the street. Not sure if you would know the others at the meet, but there is an ork named Jack, and two elves named Amy and Overkill respectively. I'm sure someone of your intellect will have no trouble discerning which is which. Brickhouse is temporarily unavailable due to blood loss. He crossed the Wakenda a couple weeks back, and is no longer in the shadowrunning business.>>

[DrZaius]

Grease, at home in Montbello, 11:45 AM, July 29th, 2075

Grease grins at Murphy's response. Always the tightwad; it's not even his money.

<<@Murphy: I just figured since you were drinking before noon you may be more generous than your semi-sober self. I forgot you were a mean drunk. I will get the info you need and keep your shining reputation with the brass; Captain Murphy has a nice ring to it.>>

<<@Chapel: Of course, old friend- my apologies. Let me buy lunch next week to make it up to you.>> Grease grimaces at his faux-pas; it was going to be expensive. <<I appreciate the work; I will be there with bells on, look forward to meeting the rest of the team.>>

Swiping the AR display away after sending his messages, Grease finishes his soykaf and grimaces when he realizes it's gone cold. He smiles and finally heads down to the shop, planning on spending the afternoon tinkering on his cars.

[Always Overkill]

Overkill, Peoria Elementary, 11:05 AM, July 29th, 2075

<< @Chapel: I trust your judgement in these matters. It looks like the young lady will be joining us in this endeavor. Forward any info, including the possible payment, on the run that you can to my commlink. We will be
there. Do I know any of the other members of the crew we will be rendezvousing with at this meeting?>>

Drave closed the message on his AR and looked over to Amy with a smile. "The work Chapel sends my way tends to be lucrative in one form or another. We will be meeting with the client tonight." He looked over to the crowd surrounding
Chomsky and Greeley, "For now we will have to settle for learning a bit more about our friend Chomsky's new associate." He took a sip of the soykaf he had just poured for himself and offered a cup to Amy.

As they waited for the congregation to thin out, Drave pulled up his AR interface and did a search on this Juan Ramirez, curious to learn more details on this Lone Star captain.

[Chrome Head]

Amy and Overkill, Peoria Elementary school's gym, 11:10 AM, July 29th, 2075

Amy takes the cup offered to her and takes a short sip. "Lucrative? That's good, right? Can't wait to see what the corps will make us do to some other corps." she says with a wink.

As fewer people remain, Amy approaches Chomsky and Greeley. "Hey Jared, I didn't realize you had this new thing lined up. So you're organizing a rally and telling the press.. are you going mainstream now? You know we can't trust the media, they're corps too you know."

Turning to the elven woman of a similar age as herself, "Hi, I'm Amy, nice to meet you. Thanks for trying to help us out."

[Lobo0705]

Amy and Overkill, Peoria Elementary school's gym, 11:10 AM, July 29th, 2075

Greeley seems genuinely pleased to meet the two newcomers, shaking hands firmly and smiling. "Amy, Overkill, a pleasure to meet you both. Jared has spoken highly of both you personally and your efforts on behalf of the less fortunate here in the Warrens."

Pushing an errant hair back over her ear, she steps back so Jared can give Amy a hug, and Overkill a firm clap on the back.

"My friends" he says, "so glad you can come. I wouldn't call us mainstream, per se, but Shannon has convinced me that the rally and the publicity around it may be a way to get people to start paying attention to what is going on down here."

Shannon shifts to speak up. "The problem now is the same problem that has existed for the past fifty-odd years. The Warrens are scheduled to be demolished. It only requires the signature of the committee in charge to actually demolish them. Once they do that, they are out of a job, so every administration since the Treaty of Denver has kicked the bucket down the road, lining their pockets." Her voice raises, and Amy notices her astral signature moving toward the side of the spectrum that indicates frustration.

"In the meantime, no official funding can be allocated here, since they can't justify spending resources to fix up a neighborhood that could, at any moment, be destroyed. So these poor people sit and wait, and no one in the government or the corps helps out." She pauses for a moment, and takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to yell, but it is incredibly upsetting to see all these people left to the mercy of the gangs and the crime syndicates because no one can be bothered. Fifty years of the Zone looking the other way as the Warrens decays has to stop. I can't promise you the rally will fix things, but I hope it might start us on a different path. Excuse me, I would like to get some fresh air."

She moves off through the crowd, stopping to help an elderly woman pick up a fan she had dropped, and then disappearing through the door.

"Isn't she something?" Jared asks with a smile on his face.

[Lobo0705]

Jack, near the intersection of South Genoa Court and East Loyola Circle, 11:15 AM, July 29th, 2075

Nic laughs, "Friends, indeed. The Los Magnificos are punks. Bunch of Latin thugs that got pushed out of the CAS after they absorbed the Aztlan Zone, ended up clawing out a tiny kingdom in the Warrens. Not much more to tell. Small time punks with big dreams and some heavy artillery. Hand me that socket wrench, will ya?"

The sounds of motorcycles gets incredibly loud, and six members of the Trey-Eights pull up next to the car. The leader, an human with a pair of Zeiss eyes that must have set him back 10K looks at Nic. "So where are these punks?"

Nic's claw arm reaches up and around the hood, pointing down Loyala. "They went that-away. If you hurry, you might catch them - they were running pretty fast."

The ganger smiles, revealing a shiny grill covering his teeth, "Thanks old man, just remember to kick back our share of that salvage." and with a hand wave, the six bikes blazed off, the engines of their Mirages spiraling up the RPMs before kicking into gear.

After they had gone, Nic turns back to Jack. "Used to be you could live in relative peace, even in this section of the Warrens. Now I have to pay protection money to stay alive. Ok, now hold up this piece here."

Jack and Nic spend the next half hour taking apart the engine, and then make a couple trips back and forth to the shop to drop off their haul. Nic has to stop several times because of the heat, his breathing sounding like a bellows.

After they are done, Nic sighs, and says, "I'm going to take a shower. Thank you for the help Jack, I appreciate it. For an ork, you ain't half bad." With a wink, Nic disappears inside, leaving Jack alone and sweating outside the shop.

[Chrome Head]

Amy and Overkill, Peoria Elementary school's gym, 11:15 AM, July 29th, 2075

"She sure is," says Amy, thinking about it.

Maybe there's a chance this will actually do something good for us.

"I feel like we can trust her, too, which is rare for someone coming from the outside.

"No offense," Amy adds as an afterthought, realizing who she had said that to.

"If I can do something to help out, let me know. I'll be busy this week though," she says with a smile. "Overkill got me a spot for a job, like you suggested I should get. I'm gonna find out what it is tonight."