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

[Jack VII]

Nic's Knacks, Aurora Warrens, 4:00 PM August 4th, 2075

Jack was beginning to rethink his plan to compensate Nic for his time. The troll was working him like a burro for all the days he had missed while working for Ramirez. When Nic started running down a massive list of tasks he had planned after breakfast, Jack sighed and went back to his room to change again. Fortunately, he had washed the coveralls he had used during the assault on Lynx's apartment and put them on to work. Now that it was nearing 1600, Jack considered everything they had done. From repairing the hot water heater to stripping down a disabled Yamaha Growler Nic had acquired from somewhere for parts, the ork did a lot of semi-heavy lifting and wrench-turning throughout the day. By the time his commlink chimed around 1600, Jack and his coveralls were dirty, greasy, and sweaty.

Accessing his commlink, the ork read the message on the small screen.

<<@Jack [Chapel] Afternoon, Jack. I was able to put my hands on all of the gear you requested. I'll send it over via courier tomorrow morning. You've also got an appointment Monday morning with a doc for the datajack install. I'm forwarding his contact information and address. Honestly, I was surprised given all your 'ware that you didn't have one already. I'm still working on setting up an appointment with a tailor for your suit. Nice choice by the way, that off-the-rack Actioneer was getting a little tired, chummer. My guy is pretty busy right now, but I figure you'll have your suit by the end of the week. Last but not least, I was able to score you tickets for the NAGO show, The extra nuyen helped me get you floor tickets. As I'm sure you're aware, floor seats are General Admission, the whole thing turns into a mosh pit. You probably want to wear your armor to the show.>>

Jack grinned; Chapel always came through. Opening up his contact list, he changed up his commlink profile and sent CPL Jason Sinclair a message.

<<@Jason [Diego] I got us floor tickets, hombre! NAGO!!! Even if you have to ask Big G for time off, you gotta figure it out. Let me know if you're free>>

"Damnit, tusker! We still gotta fix up this toaster!" The ork sighed as troll's bellow carried across the junked up yard of Nic's Knacks.

[DrZaius]

"Bread and Water", UCAS Zone, 2:19 PM, August 4th, 2075

Talking over Chapel's laughter, Grease continues. "I'm just sayin.. Can you stop for a second? Do you need some water? People are staring." Chapel simmers down, wiping tears from his eyes. He looks up at Grease, only to burst out laughing again. "All I'm saying", he adds with emphasis, "Is that it was a dynamic situation; we didn't know what we were getting into, and it was a completely innocent mistake! Anyone could have made it!" Frustrated, Grease crosses his arms while Chapel motions for the waiter. "My friend here would love some of that linguine you are famous for.." he pauses, twinkle in his eye, as he prepares his punch line. "EXTRA garlic." Unable to contain himself, he starts laughing all over again, confusing the waiter who smiles politely along with him. Grease gives the waiter a tight smile, then grins along with Chapel. "I'm never going to live this down..."

Mortimer of London, UCAS Zone, 11:22 AM, August 6th, 2075

The tailor frets over his measurements, marking chalk on various parts of Grease's body he previously considered private.

When in Rome..

"As you can see sir, the Berwick line combines classic fashion with utility. Your request to add the privacy screen, signal scanner and signal.. eraser," he coughs politely, "Were easy to incorporate into the pliable fabric. A wool suit like this could last you ages, and it's fit is obviously second to none. I would take classic London fashion over the Armante's of the world any day of the week; they are chasing trends, while we remain an institution." he smiles proudly having finished his speech, stepping out of the way so Grease can admire himself in the 3-piece mirror.

Whispering under his breath, Grease adjusts his cuffs. "Bond.. James Bond."

"Gush", Warrens, 11:49 PM, August 7th, 2075

Yelling to be heard over the club's speakers, Grease continues trying to communicate with his dealer. "No- I don't want to sell it- I want to FIX it!" Smiling widely at the word fix, Sling produces a set of pills. "No- I don't NEED a Fix; I NEED someone to Fix a DRONE!" Sling shakes his head, still not following. "I need YOU to TELL me WHO can FIX my DRONE!" Grease screams himself hoarse, emphasizing the words he feels will get his message across best.

<<@Grease [Sling]: What's up chummer? Maybe it'd be easier to just type this out.>>

Howling, Grease turns his back and downs a drink, eventually calming down enough to communicate with his friend.

Grease's Apartment, UCAS Zone, 4:30 PM, August 8th, 2075

Having eliminated all other possibilities, Grease prepared to try one last option for resurrecting his dead drone. The method he was about to try was either going to factory-reset the drone's equipment, or slag it irreparably.

I wish Overkill was here; he seemed to have a sense for how to fix these things..

Everything was as prepared as possible. His workbench could have doubled as an operating table in one of the nicer wet-clinics in the Denver area. He had spent hours pouring over message boards, the plans for this particular drone, as well as re-reading cover to cover the repair documentation for this specific procedure. Still, he didn't figure he had better than 1 chance in 3 of actually getting it to work.

Holding the chassis firmly, he kept the factory reset button depressed while reaching around the entire body of the drone to it's service panel on the far side. Using a mirror to see what he was doing, all his motions were reversed from what he would normally feel.

If this frakking button was just on the other side, I'd have finished this hours ago. He thought to himself. Whoever designed this thing either hated people repairing their drones, or figured they'd make some extra cred by assuming people wouldn't bother to fix them. Either way, diabolical.

Reaching the tool inside, he very, very gently grabbed the offending piece of hardware and pulled it out. His face sweating, he took the new piece and was about to place it when he realized the writing on it was the wrong direction. Gently twisting his arm so the writing was facing the right (wrong) way in the mirror, he reset the new chip.

<<GM-NISSAN DOBERMAN 2071 BOOT SEQUENCE INITIATED..>>
<<TIME:00:00:00>>
<<LOSS OF POWER DETECTED, TIME/DATE UNRELIABLE>>
<<LOADING OS...>>

Somewhere in the Warrens, 3:03 AM, August 10th, 2075

The high from the Novacoke was a distant, tugging sensation. It was something to note, a checklist item in a long list of things to consider.

<<NOTE: Artificial Chemical in bloodstream. Expect 3.2% improved reaction time. CAUTION: Chance of cardiac event increased 19.7%.>>

It had been some time since Grease had raced for these kind of stakes, but it was worth it. He had been out of the game for too long, he had trouble finding the races like he used to. This one was purely local; but he knew how dangerous that could be. Just because his competition wasn't from the nice side of the tracks didn't mean they didn't have cred to spend. In fact, most of the nuyen their white-collar counterparts would be spending on mortgages, 401ks, day care, and other boring stuff went directly into improving the short-line speed of their cars. But they didn't have 100k rigs mounted at the base of their skulls. At least, Grease hoped they didn't. Feeling the tires pressed against the warm asphalt, Grease breathed in the night air through his radiator, sensing a cold snap in a few days. He breathed in and out, his engine reving in increasing levels, a feedback effect of making him more excited, more anxious. Waiting for the start... Knowing that his competitor had paid them off to make him lose a second, knowing he didn't care, wanting to race, needing to race..

<<3.. 2... 1...>>

UCAS Zone, 10:45 AM, August 10th, 2075

Leaning against his cab, Grease could feel the bass of the club, the loss of his hearing, the smell of his car throughout his very soul. Automatically, he chirped out the street pidgin, less an actual advertisement and more an involuntary noise. "Airport, 20 'yen, Airport, 20 'yen." Yawning deeply, he rubbed his eyes, thinking of taking up smoking just so he'd have something to do while waiting. "Airport, 20' yen."

Rushing up to his cab, a man in a business suit dropped his luggage and suitcase, then scrambled to pick them all up. "You gotta help me!" He sounds panicked. "I need to get to the airport in.." he looks at his watch, "4 minutes!" He started cursing to himself as he gathered his things. Grease casually walks to the other side of the cab and gets into the driver's seat. Unlocking the door, the man throws himself inside, looking at Grease frantically. "Well, aren't you going to go?!" The elf smiles, adjusts his mirror, and starts to drive.

[Jack VII]

The Office of Dr. Jeffrey Hauser, UCAS Sector, Denver, 9:00 AM August 5th, 2075

Jack should have guessed having a hole drilled in his head was going to leave a massive headache. As he reached up to touch the new cyber-implant, Dr. Hauser slapped his hand. "Considering how much cyberware you have, you're a terrible patient. I'm going to have to send you home with a cone on if you keep it up." The ork groaned as he laid back on the operating table. The headache was only amplified by the datajack's diagnostic ARO running in the corner of his vision. He didn't realize how accustomed he had gotten to experiencing AR through devices. Having AROs pop up in his natural vision was just weird.

"Alright Jack, here's a salve you need to take with you and apply daily for a week. Keep the area around the datajack dry and clean it with a light degreaser." Dr. Hauser handed Jack a small plastic bag containing a small bottle of medication, a bottle of aspirin, and paper directions that the ork thought rather quaint. "The diagnostic software on the datajack should finish in the next minute or so. Once it's complete, the easiest way to start the setup wizard is to directly connect to your commlink. It should run automatically. Other than that, you're done here. Tell Chapel I said hello."

Hopping off the table, Jack steadied himself. Head pounding, he fished the aspirin out of the bag and took a handful dry. "Thanks Doc," Jack said, "I'll pass on your regards. I appreciate the steady hand."

Zoe Custom Clothiers, UCAS Downtown Hub, Denver, 3:00 PM August 8th, 2075

"Stop shifting," Davis said, "I've got a reputation to uphold and I am not letting you walk out of here with a poorly tailored suit." The dwarf tailor jabbed Jack in the hand with one of his pins. The ork was initially surprised by how unfriendly the tailor was, but slowly realized the quality of the dwarf's work as he looked around the shop. He figured Davis could get away with it. Eyeing the ork closely, the tailor asked, "Hey, you aren't planning on bulking up any, are ya? No heavy lifting or anymore of this vat muscle? 'Cause this suit is going to be tailored with millimeter precision. You get buff or fat and the warranty is void."

Jack sighed, he almost thought he'd be happier getting shot in the gut than having to deal with this squat bastard. Still, the suit looked wiz.

Annette's Antiques, UCAS Sector, Denver, 10:00 AM August 9th, 2075

Dressed to the nines in his new Zoe Executive Suite suit, Jack entered Annette's Antiques with a confident air. An appropriately antique door bell rang as he entered the shop; an old human woman peeking out from the back room. The briefest glint of fear crossed her face as she noticed Jack was an ork, but it cleared quickly when she realized the suit he was wearing was almost certainly more expensive than anything in the shop. "Hello there, stranger! What can I do for you today?"

"Annette, I presume?" Jack asked. When the woman nodded, the ork smiled and said, "Pleasure to meet you, seniorita. My name's Diego and I'm looking for something special for a friend of mine... something mechanical."

Annette made a face. "That's kind of an odd request, Diego, but I think I might be able to fix you up right. Come over here and take a look at these clocks. Old analog devices, one of them even requires winding a spring, if you can believe that!" Jack looked through the clocks, mildly interested but not quite sure it was what Nic would want. "Wiz, but I don't know if that quite fits the bill. Do you have anything that's more, I don't know, hands-on?"

Annette scowled for a few seconds before her face lit up. "You're friend's a tinker? I think I've got just the thing. Someone just brought this thing into the shop the other day. It's mid-20th Century tech from Vegas. Follow me." Gesturing toward the back-room, the woman walked into the back and toward a bulky object hidden under a tarp. Yanking the tarp off, Annette revealed an antique slot machine. With gusto, the woman announced, "The old One-Armed Bandit! It's actually not quite in working order, but maybe your friend would prefer that, so they can tinker with it to get it back into working order. It's yours for an even 400 (IMG:style_emoticons/default/nuyen.gif) but the shipping's on you."

"Shipping's on me and it doesn't work? I'll give you 200 at best... he might not even be able to find parts," the ork said with feigned affront.

Sighing heavily, Annette responded, "Fine, fine... 250 and not a nuyen-less. Deal?"

"Deal," Jack said, shaking Annette's hand firmly.

Nic's Knacks, Aurora Warrens, 7:00 AM August 10th, 2075

With the soykaf machine in working order, Jack helped himself to a fresh cup of soykaf before settling in to read the current day's issue of the Denver Tribune. With his new datajack, he didn't even have to put on his glasses to read the digital copy. Reading through the headlines, the ork spat soykaf across the table. Dios mío! Jack thought, as he scanned the contents of the Tribune. With his head for business, the ork started to connect the dots. Looks like everything came to a head... the UCAS must have used the information they had on BioGene to get concessions both from the Sioux Nation and BioGene. Probably got a nice deal on this PX57 gas they almost certainly developed from Crimson Fire. That's scary as drek... and looks like they cleaned up some of the loose ends. Sorry Twoman, we didn't even know ya, hombre.

Quickly clipping the pertinent articles, Jack queued up a message to the rest of the team, including Overkill. The ork hoped his friend wasn't having to deal with too much trouble back in Berlin.

<<@Team [JustJack] Check this out, amigos. Make sure to keep your heads down for a bit, let the heat die down and we should be okay | File Attached>>

The Corps were always the winners in these deals, but as long as he was still breathing, Jack would accept the consolation prize. He had a full day ahead of him and afterwards... NAGO!!!

Waffles Anytime, Downtown UCAS Hub, Denver, 2:00 AM August 11th, 2075

The concert had been great. Underneath his armor jacket and clothing, Jack's body was temporarily tattooed with bruises from head to toe. He was pretty sure Dr. Hauser wouldn't be pleased with his extracurricular activities, but he had checked the datajack and it was still firmly seated in place. On top of it all, he was pretty sure he might have sent some drekhead to the hospital with a well placed elbow.

"Man, that was awesome, Diego!" CPL Jason Sinclair of the ZDF Border Forces said from the other side of the table, digging into a large plate of waffles. "Thanks so much for scoring those tickets. You've really got the hook-up!"

Jack contemplated Jason as he dug into his own giant plate of myco-waffles. The human fans of Goblin Rock were always an odd bunch. Jason was a pretty fit kid, but had taken his lumps at the show. He was probably targeted for his race, to be perfectly honest, but he didn't seem to care. "Hey man, anything I can do to improve the morale of our Zone Defense Force." Jack threw a lazy salute and laughed. "But no problem on the tickets, I get lucky sometimes in my line of work and meet the right people, you know?"

Laughing along with him, Jason saluted back and lowered into his middle finger extended. "Frag off, dude. You know I'd love to drop the ZDF and do the kind of work you do. Meeting interesting people, making sure they don't get geeked, rubbing elbows with the rich and famous... that's got to be awesome. What's the chances you might be covering Tayvon Charles? That would be crazy?"

Shaking his head, Jack said, "I doubt I'll be covering down on that hombre. Most of my clientele are a little more discrete. They usually have more dangerous enemies than a football player would. I think the ZDF occasionally rolls those kinds of bad guys up. In fact, I've got an on-going contract to protect a client from a bad dude who goes by the name of Lynx. I heard your vatos took him down a week ago. If he somehow gets released and you hear about it, can you let me know? That stuff is public record, but sometimes it takes your people a while to update the information. Every second counts in my line of work..."

Mid-bite, Jason looked like he didn't quite understand what Jack was asking him. Swallowing, he shrugged and said, "Sure, Diego. As long as I won't get in trouble for it and it helps out with your biz, I can give you a head's up."

"That's all I ask, amigo. So, is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see the waitress?" Throwing up his fist, Jack banged his head with a smile across his face.

[Chrome Head]

Hubert's Apartment, Aurora Warrens, 6:00 AM August 4th, 2075

Amy's cooking at the stove, whistling merrily when Hubert finds her in his kitchen at such an early hour. "There's hot tea ready for ya. I'm making chocolate chip pancakes for the kids, do you want chocolate chips in yours too?" Hubert smiles back to her. "Why not."

As they sit down to eat, waiting for the kids to wake up, Amy brings up the focus she found at the sacrifice site. "If you don't mind, I thought I'd ask what that's worth on the streets and what it does. It seems pretty special but I can't use it, I don't think."

"Oh it's a pretty simple focus to help with ritual magic. I can take it off your hands if you want. Would 1600 be okay with you?"

"Don't bother, you can just keep it. Or sell it and use the money to buy something for your community. Whatever you want. After all you've done for me, it's the least I can do. As you can guess, my run's over now and I was paid preeeetty well. I think my abilities really played a role in our success, and the team seemed to appreciate me. I can't compare with others much, but they seemed pretty good at what they do, and they've been nice to me. That's all I can ask for."

"I know Overkill, and I've met Jack, and they're stand-up guys. I'm sure you'll be fine with them. Good job Amy. So are you taking the kids back to your apartment this morning?"

"Yeah, of course. Though I bet Kevin has seen enough of us for a little while and he'll want to be by himself for a bit. That's fine."

"I'll miss them you know, even though it takes a lot of energy out of me and sort of puts me back on my work, but I don't mind. I'm sure Sam will be happy to go back home."

"Well her home is gonna change soon. I wanna find a better place, with constant power, and decent matrix access, and hot water. Maybe closer to this area too, for a change."

"That'd be great, you won't have any excuse not to visit often."

They both smiled and continued on with small talk. Sam eventually joined in and ate her adoptive mother's pancakes with appetite. Amy just looked at her with tenderness and considered how happy she was to finally come out of poverty, and be able to offer something decent to this little girl who so deserved it. To be honest, Amy wasn't running the shadows just for her, but she was still a part of the motivation.

Curtnick's Bar, Aurora Warrens, 4:45 PM August 4th, 2075

Amy left Sam with Ram again, promising him that it would only be for an hour or two, and arrived early at the bar. Curtnick's was only half full, mostly with fans of some sport Amy didn't recognize nor care about playing in AR. This time, when Wendy comes to ask her what she wants, she opts for some kind of mixed drink called a Sunny Pixie, just because she's happy to buy something fancy (and easily afford it!), and she felt like celebrating anyway. Enjoying the moment, she waited for her activist friend to arrive, randomly shifting her gaze back and forth between astral and physical for the fun of it.

[Lobo0705]

Curtnick's Bar, Aurora Warrens, 4:45 PM August 4th, 2075

Amy spotted Chomsky's familiar face as he entered the bar. The activist wass looking much better than he did the other night, and the lack of lines around his eyes seemed to indicate he was getting a decent amount of sleep. He was dressed in a simple polo shirt and jeans, and smiled as soon as he spotted his elven friend.

Stopping Wendy on the way in, he spoke briefly to her, and then headed over to the table. He embraced Amy warmly before sitting down. As she took her seat, she noticed a burly looking man with a shaved head and an earpiece follow Chomsky in and take a spot at the bar He looked around the bar slowly, and his eyes hidden behind his mirror shades. Looking askance at Chomsky, she inclined her head at his companion sitting ten feet away.

"Apologies, Shannon insisted he accompany me as a precaution. He seems a nice enough fellow, if not a talkative one." He thanks Wendy as she drops off his beer, and then says, "I'm fine, I'm glad to see you are too - how are Sam and Kevin?"

[Chrome Head]

Curtnick's Bar, Aurora Warrens, 4:52 PM August 4th, 2075

Amy can't help but to cringe a little inside at the mention of Shannon. Shaking off her misplaced jealousy she gets up to give Chomsky a warm hug. "I'm so glad to see you, you look great. I was worried for you after what happened last time."

They sit down and get comfortable. "So I'm done with my work, and I think you need to know more about what happened, cause it could affect your plans. I think you'll be pretty safe for a while, depending on what you do next. Here, go silent on your link, I want to show you something."

Pulling a universal cable from her custom-build commlink, she connects with Chomsky's and transfers a dossier she had compiled with information from her run. "Here, I'll let you take a look, take your time."

In it, Chomsky finds a summary of what happened, specifically information about the Los Mags and Crimson Fire and even Bradshere, Lynx being the one responsible for the interruption at the rally (and minimal information about the police murders and profiles of the victims), and most important of all, a description of Biogene's involvement and what Overkill had dug on it.

Meanwhile, Amy sips from her funky looking drink.

"As you can see, I have good reasons to believe that you're much less in danger than before, and we have a much better idea of the nature of the threat. It's not exactly good news, but from what I can tell you'll be safe for as long as you don't go public again. What do you think?"

[Lobo0705]

Curtnick's Bar, Aurora Warrens, 4:52 PM August 4th, 2075

Chomsky takes his time reading through the material, rereading certiain sections. He gave a low whistle, and said, "I had no idea it ran so deep. It is disgusting what these corporations will do to turn a profit." Grimacing, he continues, "I will bring this to Shannon, and explain the situation to her. I think if we can focus on helping those already addicted, and leave off any press conferences, we should be able to keep off of Biogene's radar."

He reaches over and takes her hand in his. "Thank you, truly. I know that you and your friends put your lives on the line for me, and I won't forget it."

[Chrome Head]

Curtnick's Bar, Aurora Warrens, 4:53 PM August 4th, 2075

"It's the least I could do, and I'm thankful that the team accepted to pitch in that day. You know how much I support your cause."

Amy frees one of her hands to fetch a small credstick from her bag. "Speaking of which, this is for you. It's not much, but for the first time in my life I have enough (IMG:style_emoticons/default/nuyen.gif) to afford doing this. Please accept it, it means a lot to me to make this modest contribution."

On the credstick is 500 (IMG:style_emoticons/default/nuyen.gif) .

"If there's anything else I can do, please do not hesitate to let me know. We should keep in contact in case either of us hears more about any of this. And you can come visit, I'll have a new, better place to call home soon, I'll let you know."

[Lobo0705]

Curtnick's Bar, Aurora Warrens, 4:55 PM August 4th, 2075

Chomsky accepts the credstick from Amy with a smile. "Thank you again. It seems that I am doubly in your debt. I will make sure that this is put to good use."

Finishing his drink, he says, "I will be happy to visit, I look forward to seeing Sam and Kevin again. I know that Shannon plans on trying to open community center, assuming we get the funds. I hope that we will see you and the children there too."

[Chrome Head]

Amy's old apartment, Aurora Warrens, 7PM August 4th, 2075

Overkill arrives at Amy's door with Oppenheimer in a cat carrier. He explains that circumstances back in Berlin require him to leave the Free Zone and rejoin his companions. He isn't sure how long he will be gone, or if indeed he will return, but in the meantime he would like to give Oppenheimer to Sam, hoping she will enjoy a pet. He expresses how proud he is of her, and his regret at having to leave, and gives hugs all around before he leaves.

The hugs were heartfelt and Amy was sad to see her friend go. He helped her during her very first run, and his presence was comforting. In a way, his leaving meant for Amy that she was now on her own, almost as though she had graduated from some kind of apprenticeship. Sam was already teasing the poor Oppenheimer who had probably never seen a kid before - and the furry thing didn't seem to like it either.

Amy's new home, Aurora Warrens, 3PM August 7th, 2075

Sam was running around and chasing the desperate Hopper, as the cat was now called, in the tidy little apartment. With all the furniture now, there was much less room for playing and the place looked cozy and welcoming, just like Amy was hoping. Today had been moving day and she was finally relaxing in the new leather couch she had bought second-hand, though it was almost as new. A couple of friends were drinking beer and eating pizza in the kitchen. They deserved it for all the heavy lifting they had been doing. Amy didn't move anything from her old place, which she had decided to keep, but all the new stuff had to be moved in, at least this apartment complex had a functioning elevator, what a change! "Hey guys, you all come back around 9 tonight, we're going out and first round's on me!"

[Chrome Head]

Amy's apartment, Aurora Warrens, 10AM August 10th, 2075

Amy's having breakfast with Sam, and she put up the news on the screen in front of them, asking Sam if she can read the first title.

"Re-, Re-, Rebuild-, Rebuilding ... To- Together..."

Amy raises her head and gasps. "Did I read it wrong Aunt Amy?"

"No no sweetie, but I have to make a quick call."

<<@Chomsky [Amy's voice] "Congrats for the funding, this is such great news for everyone in the Warrens. Did you see the latest about Biogene? I hope this means they're done with their experiments... Just be careful all right?">>