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

[Jack VII]

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:00 PM, August 2nd, 2075

"Three Awakened lunáticos from different Corps all working together? That don't sound good at all... or the fact that we just popped a few AAA employees regardless of their extra-curriculars." Jack said. "I certainly hope it doesn't have anything to do with our actual gig, the last thing we need is to mix the Corps into this clusterfrag."

Turning back to the topic at hand, Jack said, "Getting there in advance would be the way to go, but how long do you think you could pull off sitting in there? We don't have any way of knowing how long it's going to be until he gets there. It could be days..."

Pondering for a moment, Jack pulled out his commlink and send off a quick message. "I just let our mysterious matrix benefactor that Truck isn't going to be a problem anymore. I'd also like to get a hold of Ramirez and give him an update. Oh yeah, Overkill?" Jack asked, withdrawing a few items from his cargo pocket, "Do you have a few baggies I can have?" Jack looked oddly at his ten fingered hand, of which only five were actually attached.

[Lobo0705]

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:01 PM, August 2nd, 2075

Overkill points distractedly toward the kitchen, "Second drawer on the right. What do you need them for... oh. Yes. Those." He grimaces slightly.

"To answer your question, Grease, I do not believe that anyone tell through a view of the Matrix what you are seeing. So, you will just have to act like you are experiencing something....unusual."

[Jack VII]

Down the street from the Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 12:05 PM, August 2nd, 2075

Jack wandered over to the kitchen and opened the indicated drawer. He dropped a pair of bags on the counter next to a high-grade espresso machine. The ork separated the severed digits and placed the four belonging to the people who wanted to kill him in one bag and the other, along with the lock of hair, into another. Tucking the filled bags back into his jacket, the ork cleaned up the area, not wanting to be seen as a discourteous guest.

"I'm not sure about the rest of you, but I wouldn't mind cleaning up a bit and getting some sleep." The ork's clothes had dried a little bit, but remained fairly damp from wading through the lake, not to mention the mud and blood that marred his jacket and pants. Fortunately, his black armor jacket didn't really show the latter very well. "The footage we got of Stinger was time-stamped 10PM, so about 26 hours ago. Since my source said Lynx hates addicts, I'd be willing to bet Stinger can't do this too regularly without raising suspicions, so I'd guess we won't see him there tonight." Anticipating Grease's objections to perceived inactivity, Jack continued. "With that said, it wouldn't be a bad idea to do some recon of the place. If Grease can pull off acting like a junkie, something I am sure you can manage amigo, it would help if we do have to go in to collect him. Think you can handle that with limited back-up?"

[DrZaius]

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:05 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Grease nods. "I can handle a few junkies. If I can sneak a gun in, even more so. If someone were to sit out in the car to keep an eye out, even better." Cracking his knuckles, he addresses the other two. "I'm already pretty dirty; about 20 minutes with my disguise kit and I can get appropriately junky. Even if Stinger doesn't show I want to know what the inside of that house looks like, if we have to make a move tomorrow night instead. Trust me on this; he's not going to want to go too long between doses of his medicine. Either of you want to tag along? It'd work well to have one of you drive the cab to drop me off."

[Jack VII]

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:05 PM, August 2nd, 2075

"On second thought, I'll go with you." Jack interjected before Amy or Overkill could respond. Someone's got to keep an eye on this guy... the ork thought to himself. "That way Amy can get a decent night's sleep and be able to check on Sam and Kevin early in the morning. Overkill's already home and can stay here and search the Matrix for additional leads, maybe find that device that was receiving the signals from that van or check for and erase any tags from the gear we recovered."

"As long as we're not there too long, I don't think it will be too much of a problem. I won't even have to change clothes yet." The ork pauses before concluding, "I'm going to grab the duffle bag if no one objects, I'm carrying a lot of ordnance right now that I'd rather not be visible."

[DrZaius]

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:05 AM, August 2nd, 2075

While Jack goes out to grab the duffel bag, Grease starts working on his ensemble. Taking items he had selected earlier from the disguise kit, he starts to add a long, brown beard speckled with grey to his face. The steel wool he grabbed earlier shows it's purpose, as he scratches his arms and face with it, causing him to bleed slightly. He looks around until he finds Overkill's couch, and with an apologetic look opens the cushions and takes out the material; lining the inside of his jacket with it.

"Insulation. I'd use newspaper, but you seem like the type to get it over the trid. I'll get it back when we're done."

Continuing, he completes his look with a hat, which he tucks most of his hair into. "Now all I need is a shopping cart."

He takes a small pistol out of his gear bag and tries to figure out a way to conceal it in the folds of his clothes. He's able to do so, but it's clear it won't be easy to access; it will take him a minute to be able to bring the weapon to bear.

"Here, try this instead." Jack produces a streetline special from his ordinance bag, checking it by reflex to make sure there isn't a round in the chamber when it hands it over to Grease. "It goes better with the look anyhow, and it's loaded for bear."

Grease nods his thanks, removes the larger pistol and conceals the saturday night special in his lower back, with Overkill helping to make sure it isn't visible.

"OK; let's go do some drugs!"

[Jack VII]

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:05 PM, August 2nd, 2075

Jack stowed his helmet, the Colt, the remaining Flash Bang, the spare magazines, and his HK in the duffle bag and zipped it up. Once they arrived on site, he would relocate the SMG underneath the driver's seat of the vehicle. He wished he had brought his glasses with him, but that couldn't be helped at the moment. If need be, he'd just put on his helmet. He'd seen cab drivers wear weirder drek before...

[Lobo0705]

Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 12:35 PM, August 2nd, 2075

The taxi came to a smooth stop a few blocks away from the chip house, letting Grease out so he could head the rest of the way on foot. Jack drove the taxi around the corner, leaving Grease to shamble along, really selling the disguise of a decrepit BTL user. Jack reached his parking spot and gently pressed on the brake, but the pedal went straight to the floor, snapping his head forward with a crack against the steering wheel. Iho de la puta!, Jack swore to himself and looked for Grease, but the rigger was already out of sight. If a car could be said to idle smugly, Grease's taxi was doing just that.

Grease mentally reached out to his Fly Spy, the drone dropping quickly from the sky and landing on his hand. He pocketed the small drone, and continued on his way. Grease approached the corner where the Zombies were standing, the street toughs packing heavy pistols, and with a shotgun leaning against a nearby car. Grease blends in well with the rest of the street trash shambling around like the gang's namesake.

Approaching the door, he the gang members look him over and let him pass. He reaches the reinforced front door, and a metal slot slides open. He looks around surreptitiously, noting a camera over the door.

A low pitched voice comes from inside "What'cha want, Keebler? We gots it all, Trips, Moods, Dreamchips, cough up the 'yen and we're shiny."

[Jack VII]

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:35 PM, August 2nd, 2075

Grabbing his helmet from the duffle bag in the back seat, Jack secured it to his head. He needed to keep his eyes and lines of communication open. Trying to tap messages back and forth to Grease using a tiny commlink wasn't going to cut it. Once the trode net in his helmet had synched with his commlink, he pulled the SMG out of the bag and shoved it under the front seat, ready to rock and roll as needed.

<<@Grease [JustJack] Alright amigo, lay it on thick>>

[DrZaius]

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:35 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Scratching at his arm, Grease's eyes dart around rapidly. "What do YOU want man? I'm thinking a moodie." "Nah, Let's be someone else! I want to be a firetruck!" "No; you picked last time! I want something mellow, this cram is making the bugs go crazy."
He settles into incoherent mumbling, weighing the various pros and cons, and eventually looks up at the metal slot, eyes somewhat lucid. "We want a moodie... RED preferably." he adds after, a clear compromise.

[Lobo0705]

Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 12:35 PM, August 2nd, 2075

The guard inside, clearly used to dealing with the mad ravings of his customers, simply says, "We got what you need, 50 (IMG:style_emoticons/default/nuyen.gif) , lets see the cred."

[DrZaius]

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:35 AM, August 2nd, 2075

"Yeah, yeah, we got it, we got it. Here it is, let us in!" Grease checks the counter on his credstick, makes sure it's an appropriately low amount and slides it through the door.

[Lobo0705]

Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 12:35 AM, August 2nd, 2075

A hand reaches up and takes the credstick, and after a moment the slot slams closed. The door opens several seconds later, and a large human with a shaved head opens the appears. "Come on in, Keebler, your creds good for now."

He hands the credstick back to the elf, and Grease enters a small mud room that has been converted into a kill box. Metal lines the walls, and another reinforced door stands opposite him with yet another slot in it. The guard has him stand against the wall.

He gives Grease a quick pat down, pausing at the hold out pistol, and then laughs. He pulls back his leathers, and at his hip is a Roomsweeper, the handle embossed with the bloody eye symbol of his game. "You can keep that pussy gun, you just make sure it stays back there. You cause any trouble and you are one dead Keebler." He gives a nod, and the inner door opens, revealing another Zombie member, this one a girl, but only slightly smaller than her counterpart. She holds a Remington over one shoulder, and waves Grease to come inside.

[Lobo0705]

Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 12:35 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Grease stumbles by the woman, talking to himself in the same sing-song voice, but keeping a keen eye out for details. He passes a bathroom to the right, and has to fight down the urge to gag from the smell, as it seems that none of the Zombies have any plumbing skills.

He looks around, and pretends to be confused, until the woman propels him to the left, past the dining room and toward another Zombie, this one a stout dwarf, a mohawk standing 8 inches tall at the least off the top of his head. Originally brown in color, it seems now a swirl of violets and greens. The girl calls out "Mood chip for the Keebler here." There is a brief barked order from the human that Grease didn't catch, and then the girl says, "Nothing violent."

Grease moves to the dwarf, who punches in a combination into a safe, shielding the keypad from Grease's vision, and then opens it. He pulls out a box of chips, perhaps 50 altogether, and inspects them. "'Ere ya go. Fix you right up that will." He holds out the chip to Grease.

[Lobo0705]

Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 12:40 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Grease takes the chip and stumbles upstairs, emerging at the top of the stairs. Standing on the breezeway is yet another Zombie, and he directs him toward the bedroom to the left. Grease nods and goes into the bedroom, nearly tripping over several prostrate forms, their bodies rigid as their sim modules lock down their motor functions while they are in VR. He looks around and finds an empty spot halfway across the floor, slides his chip in most of the way, and then lays down, trying to mimic the other people around him.

[Lobo0705]

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:15AM, August 2nd, 2075

Soon after Grease and Jack leave, Overkill yawns. "I don't know about you, Liebschen, but I am tired. you are more than welcome to stay on my couch." The elven decker picks up Overkill and moves behind the partition where his bed is. "Gute Nacht."

Amy nods, and says, "Good night. Hopefully they will be back soon." She lays down on the couch, which is surprisingly comfortable, and takes off her shoes. Plugging her ear buds in, just in case anyone has to reach her, she puts her head down and tries to get some sleep.

Chip House, 1:15 AM, August 2nd, 2075

This was a terrible idea. He had been lying on the floor for about 30 minutes now. One of the men next to him had clearly lost control of his bodily functions, and the smell was overwhelming. The place was crawling with insects, and since he was supposed to be in VR, he couldn't very well move to shoo them away. I wonder how long these things are supposed to last? So far none of the men who were in here when he had laid down had moved at all, so he figured he was safe for now.

He sighed quietly, willing himself not to slap at the ant crossing the bridge of his nose, and continued to wait.

[DrZaius]

Chip House, 1:15 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Waiting was always a large part of most jobs, but that didn't mean he had to like it. The combination of his current roommates, the cram in his blood, and the large number of insects made Grease twitch and scratch in a manner that was convincingly like he was high on his mood chip.

I wonder what I could sell this thing for? They're probably ripping me off.. Of course, if I got the rest in the safe..

With nothing better to do, Grease starts casually browsing the Matrix for new car parts, and sends Jack a quick message.

<<@Jack [Grease]: 3 downstairs, 1 up. Mostly packing sawed offs. Smells to high heaven in here. Let me know if you see anything out there.>>

[Jack VII]

Down the street from the Chip House, 1:15 AM, August 2nd, 2075

I hope this is worth it... Jack thought to himself as the minutes slowly ticked away. He hadn't heard anything from Grease for some time, but figured the elf was either maintaining strict communication discipline or went ahead and went whole hog on his cover, availing himself of the BTL chip he purchased. The ork figured either situation was equally likely.

This part of the Warrens was particularly run-down, although that didn't seem unusual given that it boasted a chip house. A few less-savory representatives of Sixth World humanity had taken an interest in the car, but they quickly found something else to occupy their time with when they saw the glowering ork in the driver's seat. The HK-227 rested close by, stored under the driver's seat for quick retrieval if the ork's handsome face wasn't enough to deter interest.

Jack had meant to grab Ramirez's burner comm from Overkill before leaving, but had forgotten to ask for it. Now that they had their first confirmed take-down of one of the suspects involved in the killing, he thought it important to update the Johnson and explain the situation. On top of that, Mary needed official protection and Ramirez was the only Star that Jack currently trusted with her safety.

Jack's image link lit up indicating their was an incoming text. Checking it, he responded to Grease.

<<@Grease [JustJack] Considering what we just got done with, that place has got to be disgusting. Nothing to report here. Thanks for the intel>>

[Lobo0705]

Chip House, 1:30 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Some of the men who had been there already start to get up, moving ward the door, shuffling along. Grease winces as one steps on his ankle, and follows the movement with this eyes. Blinking, he sees a familiar form come to the top of the staircase. Stinger turns to the Zombie on the Breezeway, a credstick changes hands, and he is moved along to the room on the other side of the breezeway from Grease.

[DrZaius]

Chip House, 1:30 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Keeping his eyes mostly closed, Grease's heart starts to race. One of the main problems with his style of improvisation was that he often didn't think ahead to what the outcome would be, if everything went according to "plan". Still, this was what he was waiting for, and the time to act would be soon.

Using his DNI so he didn't have to move, Grease sent another quick message out.

<<@Jack[Grease]: Just saw him enter the room across the hall from me. There's a balcony between us, but he's in the front bedroom, on the right side from the street. I've got a couple of plays here, but I'd hear your thoughts before I acted on any of them.>>

[Jack VII]

Down the street from the Chip House, 1:30 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Aw drek... Jack thought as he read through Grease's message. The ork hadn't really thought Stinger would show up here so soon and had privately hoped Grease's desire for an impromptu reconnaissance would be just that. Naturally, fate wasn't on his side.

<<@Grease [JustJack] I wouldn't make any stupid moves in a house full of armed gangers, amigo. What are you thinking?>>

Jack reached back into the backseat and grabbed his weapons. Looking through the duffel bag, he realized he hadn't brought any of his non-lethal ammunition. The plan for that evening hadn't called for any. Frag, frag, frag, frag...

[DrZaius]

The Chip House, 1:30 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Realizing he had limited options considering he had a pistol with barely enough bullets for all the people he'd need to shoot, Grease dismissed the more violent approaches.

<<@Jack [Grease]: No drek. Not a lot of options. You didn't see him come in? I figure I can either run a con on him to get him alone, or we try to nab him on the street. Either way there's a risk involved. I could go with the 'ole, "Let's pool our 'yen, see if they give us a discount" and get buddy-buddy with him. Maybe he walks out with me. I could also offer to buy him a round if he does me a favor; although I gotta figure out what that would be..>>

[Jack VII]

Down the street from the Chip House, 1:31 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Somewhat content Grease wasn't recommending a full-frontal assault, Jack considered their options before responding.

<<@Grease [JustJack] What are the chances this guy knows what you look like? I mean, I know you're in disguise and he'll probably be coming off a high but if he recognizes you... How long do you think you can keep the act up in there. If he just came in, are you going to be able to stay in there without raising suspicion? Either way, seems like our best option is to grab him after he leaves the house>>

[DrZaius]

The Chip House, 1:31 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Mentally nodding along, Grease was glad Jack wasn't coming in guns blazing; and likely getting them both killed.

<<@Jack [Grease]: I think if he looks me in the face, I may be in trouble; but if he just sees glances, he's going to think I'm another junkie in here. The others have periodically been getting up, I presume to re-up, but I don't know how long the high lasts. I can always claim to be "savoring" it if they come to bug me about it, or I can re-up. I think they gave me a downer, I could be asleep for all they know. The safest way is to tail him, but I'm concerned he gives us the slip after all this trouble. After tonight I don't see him coming back here.>>

Grease wasn't going to go into further detail over the air than that, but he knew Jack knew what he was referring to.

[Jack VII]

Down the street from the Chip House, 1:31 AM, August 2nd, 2075

<<@Grease [JustJack] If you think you can engañar him into getting into the cab, passenger-rear preferably, we might be in business. Only other option I can see would be slipping a drone or tag on him. Not sure how helpful that would be, he's probably just going to head back to... that area.>>

Jack pauses for a second, a really stupid plan forming in his mind.

<<@Grease [JustJack] Yeah, that just might work... I may have a plan. Hopefully he's pretty wasted when he gets in here.>>