Living in the Shadows: IC, your run might be over... Options

[Morgannah]

22:07:16 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Nine blocks from AMI Networking, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo couldn't quite remember the last time she'd had a homecooked meal and silently vowed never to do it again. She shifted uncomfortably in the front seat of her coupe as she recalled her brave attempt at szechuan stir fry once she'd finished studying for the evening, half-groaning as her stomach gurgled in angry protest.

Take out .. next time it's going to be take out. Or maybe a salad, I can do that. Well, so long as I don't have to cook anything for it.

She'd dressed simply for work but carried the look off as casual. The cargo pants, soft turtleneck, and black boots had all been cleaned scrupulously along with the rest of her gear and the small duffel on the seat beside her. Her hair, set in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, highlighted the angular ridges of flawless cheekbones and dazzling violet eyes. Her face was subtly different as well. Sharper. More intense.

Dozens of thoughts raced through her head as she ran the thin cord from her glasses to the datajack behind her right ear. The mystery of her employer, the connection between her first two "taskings," everything she knew and didn't know about her last few hours in Seattle and how she'd come to wake up in Los Angeles after months upon months of sleep. And then there's Caska, she thought, not quite able to bring herself to smile. As much as she was fascinated by his hot and cold personality, the raw power he exuded, and the soft gravelly tone of his voice when he let his guard down, she wondered how long she'd be able to stay here. The answers were in Seattle just as they had always been. A soft sigh slipped from between her lips.

Is there a "happily ever after" for people like us?

She shook her head and flipped through the slim black binder again, forcing herself to get back on track. The fact that everything was loaded into the HUD on her glasses was testament to the fact that she was deeply unsettled. AMI Networking. Lovely.

The sleek coupe, its paint darkened to a rich smokey grey, rested in the shadows on the second level of a rundown parking garage. There were other vehicles nearby, which lead her to believe that this was a secure place, more or less. She checked the rearview mirror again to clear the area around her and stepped lightly out of her car once she was satisfied. Cosmo took a full five minutes to scan this level of the garage; she wanted to find a car less conspicuous than her own to borrow for the short drive to work.

[banditf50]

18:29:33 Saturday, 6 January, 2063 - The Fox and the Hound

"I don't think I can attach a probability to the chance the opfor has associated you with us at the moment, but given the skill level that they have displayed in our previous engagements I think it's best that we assume the worst."

Seeing that Daedalus was clearly unhappy with that observation Dragon continued to explain his statement.

"Look man if we assume that they do not know your involvement and divide up we have only split our resources in the event that one of us were to be attacked. Based on our prior engagements it is clear to me that neither of us can take these goons on alone."

[WinterRat1]

18:30:41 Saturday, 6 January, 2063 - The Fox and the Hound

"Besides, let's keep in mind something. They were shooting missiles from a blimp. Do these sound like amateurs? They were waiting for us outside TW's with a sniper, mage, elemental, and heavy-hooped street sam."

Dragon takes a bite of his dinner and chews it while he continues to talk. "It took me three expert," he points at Daedalus with his fork to emphasize the point, "and trust me when I say expert, shots to take him down. I don't think we want to take any chances with this. Splitting up leaves us isolated and vulnerable, and I don't feel like doing the tango with these guys alone."

He pauses, thinks for a moment and adds, "Actually, does anyone know any fixers who we could just pay to set up or let us use a safehouse? There must be people around this town who specialize in providing secure locations, no questions asked, for a fee, of course. Any of you guys know anyone who could hook us up with something like that?"

[grendel]

22:07:32 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Nine blocks from AMI Networking, Los Angeles, CFS

The vehicles available are mostly two door sedans, Ford Americars and Honda Accords. The parking garage was nominally covered by camera surveillance, a single mobile installation mounted in each corner, and one covering the stairway. The clear lexan bubbles surrounding each camera are scratched and stained.

[Morgannah]

22:08:04 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Nine blocks from AMI Networking, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo nodded to herself hefting the light duffel bag over one shoulder and across her chest. Keeping to as many of the shadows as possible and using the thick concrete pillars to conceal her from what little surveillance there was, she made her way toward the vehicle that afforded the most cover from all four cameras.

Although she cringed at the prospect of actually getting into the dirty blue Accord, she knelt beside it nonetheless to examine the driver's side door.

[WinterRat1]

22:42:15 Saturday, January 6, 2063 - Astral Space, Somewhere over the Barrens

The P.I. nods his head. “09:00:00 tomorrow is acceptable. Let us meet in the food court of the Renton Mall then? I will recognize you and I believe you should be able to recognize me as well. Now then, if you will excuse me we can go our separate ways and begin our business tomorrow.”

With that he speeds off into the Barrens, watchers trailing along behind him.

[grendel]

22:09:07 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Nine blocks from AMI Networking, Los Angeles, CFS

Reaching under the dashboard of the Accord, Cosmo fished around for the leads from the master bus. The door maglock had fallen under her touch in a minute, a short across the base terminals erasing the onboard memory and opening the bar. Finding what she was looking for, she took a moment to glance around the parking lot again before pulling the wires half out of the slots each was clipped into. Using a hex driver from her tool kit, she shorted across the wires while turning the ignition bolt with a pair of needlenose pliers. The interlock clicked through and the starter turned over twice before catching. Dumping her tools into the cupholder, she put the car into gear, clearing herself once more before making her exit from the garage.

[Moirdryd]

19:00 Saturday January 6th, 2063 - Touristville, The Streets, Seattle

Knight walked the unfamilliar streets for just over an hour, having decided against entering Leathernecks again. His footfalls in the slush ridden sidwalks led him slowly into better parts of town, causing him to step into an alcove between buildings to hide again his blade and gun. Fastening his coat once more he stepped out into the main streets and headed through the throngs of people about on the streets, loosing himself in the crowd.

A few blocks later he steps into a public matrix terminal, slotting the credstick and cueing up the messaging options. He types rather than leave a voiceprint on a line he is not secure about.

Calvin, Knight. Your friend was a great help and I got a little work from our chat together. I owe you one. Cue me up when you can so we can talk about things. SEND

With that he pulled the connection and yanked the stick, turning out into the crowds and sleet once more, wondering exactly where Portia has planned for them tonight.

[paul_HArkonen]

22:42:30 Saturday, January 6, 2063 - Astral Space, Somewhere over the Barrens


0900, ok, I should be able to get there and then make it to the meet on time. This is starting to get slightly expensive, and larger than I had planned, but if it finds her it's worth it.

His astral form wavering slightly as his concentration wavered Blaze stayed floating in the same spot.

I really should keep looking, but I don't think I'm going to have any success. Besides, I'll need at least some sleep for tomorrow.

Heading back to his home Blaze settled back into his body on the bed. Blinking Blaze sat up on the bed, stretching his tired limbs.

I really should call Alleycat, she's been helpful on this quest, and if I'm giong to be late the team deserves to know. It's late, she's fairly new to this, I think anyway, she seemed new from her Aura at that first meeting, but she's so, professional about everything. I'll call her in the morning.

Reaching over to his bedside Blaze set the alarm on his clock for 0700. At the same time he set his internal alarm for the same time. Finally a night with 8 hours of sleep, who knows when I'll get that during the next few weeks.

[Tiredronin]

18:31:15 Saturday, 6 January, 2063 - The Fox and the Hound

Daedalus chews a few times thoughtfully as he thinks about their next course of action.

"Ok so we are definitely staying together, and we can flop at my place for the night, barring any intrusions/ambushes along the way. I've got to call Shifty to find out whats going on in terms of my other accomodations. We can probably ask her about a safehouse too. I'll try Vinnie again after dinner but it doesn't seem likely he'll pick up."

Frowning at the thought of not recieving his other drones and the vehicle he had hand picked for Seattle, Daedalus continues:

"Otherwise it would seem that aside from finding out some place for all of us to shack up, we will also need some other vehicles to get around. I'd imagine that our benefactor at the clinic will not appreciate her car being exposed to the volitile company that we seem to be attracting."

[Sedna]

02:52:50 Saturday, 7 January, 2063 - outside last night's fire elemental/Melissa building

Probably Alleycat should have remembered how rats could fight when cornered. Maybe she had, and had on some level sought just that. (After all, she could relate.) Either way, the cold air and light rain outside had stolen the layer of perspiration on her skin; and a large part of the frustration had evaporated into a more general feeling that had begun as pain and was now drifting toward numbness, and would re-awaken into a full-body ache once she stepped again into an environment of approximate warmth.

She'd be back, of course.

She smiles at the thought. It had taken hours, and more bruises under the suffering longcoat than she cared to really think about, but finally her hands were once again steady. Taser in her pocket, Predator on its shoulder harness, once again with dark hair bound back as she'd been the last time she'd been here, letting the light rain sting her as she considered her options.

No squatter had been in the building yesterday when they'd arrived, but that only meant that those in the vicinity had reasonable survival instincts. They'd have to, in a place such as this. And that meant that someone, probably someone still in the immediate area, had probably seen something. Somewhere there would be a witness. She considers the area thoughtfully. If she were living here and had few or no means of defense, where would she hide out?

Letting the night embrace her, she begins to search for likely shelters.

[Sedna]

18:28:30 Sunday, 7 January, 2063 - Daedalus' safehouse

The remainder of the evening passes in a mix of discussion, planning, and good food, tempered only by Virgil's unease at their absent host's continued non-communication, by Dragon's slight discomfort at just how much of this situation can be traced right back to where he stands with Selina and her son (even if it did happen to be friends doing the teasing), and by Daedalus' increasing frustration at still being unable to reach Vinnie at the LTG he'd been given. PJ, I sure hope you knew what you were doing when you linked me in with this guy. The combination of the three factors is sufficient to gradually filtre out the lighter elements of the discussion; and as the planning keeps coming back to exactly the three elements none of them really want to discuss just now, by the time the last of the meal has been finished, that too has drifted almost completely into silence.

They have to do something about all the heat they have gathered. That much is obvious. And yet it's equally obvious, here and now, that despite the intensity of the day, they've now been spending an extended, uninterrupted time together without any heat coming down on them at all. It's not over, certainly, and they're too professional to pretend otherwise, even for a brief period; but there's an unspoken understanding among the three of them that the heat's not on them as such -- at least, not yet -- and that what heat there remains seems to have temporarily abated. Earlier Global had identified for Dragon six members of the team which had been dogging them. Of those six, the mage WhiteNight had been killed by Virgil; the close combat expert Sonny Boy lies in a DocWagon clinic; leaving the longrifle Hawkeye (who'd lost a major SIN), the rigger Jorgen, the decker You-Jay, and the team leader Calla. They're skilled enough to have come after us by now if they wanted, and they haven't. If I were them, I'd be regrouping and re-assessing. That may give us some breathing room. I wish I knew which faction had hired them. I wish I knew where Selina's son is. I wish I knew where to start in finding out where Selina's son is!

Still, for Dragon and Virgil at least, the ability to enjoy an uninterrupted evening of peace temporarily outweighs all other factors (at least, after Daedalus has reassured him that Icarus would continue to monitor events at the clinic); and even the rigger is still tired enough from the extended travel and the after-effects of the unanticipated adrenaline rush that all three of them find that beginning with a night's rest at the temporary flat set up for Daedalus by Shifty seems a logical next step. "Won't get anywhere when we're spinning our wheels like this," Virgil comments, and the other two find the concept of sleep as sensible an idea as any they've yet come up with. They arrive there late, under the cover of night; and after Daedalus explains about the transponder, together after all: any need to travel separately negated, ironically enough, by the very age of Juliette's car. Discovering finally how Daedalus had tracked him down so quickly earlier, Dragon no longer questions how an enemy rigger might have done the same with the ex-Ford Americar ... but Juliette's heap is far too old to have its own transponder. Scout though he is, not for the first time the mercenary appreciates just how deeply he'd come to rely on the team's backing him up. If things had been different and Daedalus had been scheduled to arrive before things broke loose, he'd have disconnected that transponder as a matter of course and I'd never even have noticed.

Dragon had vaguely intended to check out how Tiffany had managed with her earlier newscast, another part of his mind kicking around something about what Hawkeye had said on Shadowland, but the food and rest and after-effects of the day finally catch up with him. He'd been so surprised when he'd spotted the high-level encryption radio-comm unit among the supplies Susan had left for him. How on earth had she managed to come up with a military-spec unit so quickly? Only belatedly had he realised that she must have sacrificed her own unit to his immediate needs, taking it on her own initiative and responsibility to quietly send out word to track down another such unit to replace hers. Knowing her, she'd divert every possible nuyen from the allowance he gave her to cover the unit cost without ever once mentioning it to him. His last conscious thought before he falls exhaustedly asleep on the couch is a wistful wondering about what Susan and Cindy are doing tonight, leaving him with a soft smile, although he remembers nothing of it in the morning.

Virgil had tried Inleat's number twice more just in case, to be rewarded with the same screeching answering machine message, causing him to grit his teeth and upgrading that fragging headache another degree. In between the two attempts he had also called the clinic, to be told first by Bob that Sybersnake had been moved; and then, all ready to grab Dragon and get him up and checking on it, Juliette replaces him on the phone and asks him, please, to trust her? It's hard to say no to her, because he does, really: but he's far too used to trusting himself first. It's only when Daedalus points out with a yawn that what one person can encode, another can always try to decode, that the flash of understanding hits: the Wise Warrior seeks information, but also seeks to use what the enemy knows against him if at all possible. If Bob were deliberately projecting disinformation against the possibility, it might well be wise not to disrupt the web of disinformation being constructed without shattering it by barging in. Juliette seems to think the tactical situation at the clinic, for now, is under control. That sudden, deep flash of comprehension also finally enables him to fully entrust her (for that night, at least): and when she asks him if her car is still in one piece, the sudden evoked laugh seals it ... and on that note, he finally falls asleep.

Daedalus is left last, alone, in an unfamiliar place, too worried to fall asleep easily no matter how tired he was; but too oddly embarrassed to call Shifty in on it yet. Frag it, Peejster, you've got Dragon chasing one half of a photograph and me chasing the other half, and my baby being held hostage somewhere between them. I wish I knew the connection. There's got to be something in what Virgil and Dragon found out at Jonah's place, I know it ... I'm sure this Vinnie's really good at what he does, but right now I just want to get my baby back and end this. It's very nearly instinct to jump in and out of Icarus' senses a couple of times, confirm that after all the events of the day, things have finally quieted down there ... but his thoughts continue spinning for some time. Twice he very nearly calls Shifty, and each time he cuts off the call before he can complete it. For one thing, he doesn't know what exactly she can do on her end anyway: the message had been sent to him, not her. For another, Shifty's a day person, and doesn't take to 0300 calls well at all. Strange, that: he'd always heard that most deckers were night owls, but then PJ had always been something of a rule unto herself, ever since she'd up and left her home without any warning whatsoever, just a message telling her parents that now that she was eighteen she figured she'd fulfilled her obligation to them and now she was going to live her life as she fragging well pleased. Daedalus couldn't imagine walking out on his parents like that, but then they'd supported his aptitude for things military from the beginning, or at least not hindered it.

It's odd, wondering about PJ this way. They'd never dated, as such. They'd pseudo-dated once, in middle school, so that she could get even with someone else who'd stood her up; and he'd accepted on those terms because that's the kind of thing you do for someone whom you think of almost like a little sister. They'd been close then, constantly playing chess and other strategy games over the Matrix when they were supposed to be studying CAS poetry. How had he fallen so far out of touch?

The rigger wakes up suddenly, hours later, to the sound of his shower being used and Virgil hunting for something headache-related through the apartment -- "Do you have any industrial-strength Advil? Or maybe just a sledgehammer?" -- and it almost slipped out of his head. (Just a bit of a hangover himself, maybe. The meal last night had maybe been a bit too good ... and the beer had been better.) The connection's teasing at him, like something half-heard but not nearly paid attention to when it was important. "We thought about leaving a note for you," says Dragon, coming out of the shower, "but then we figured we'd better get our act together before going on from here." A glance at Virgil confirmed that there wasn't going to be much input coming from that direction for a while, so he continues: "Bob's got those files deciphered, but they're in a really messy legalese, or maybe it's science-ese," he adds with a shrug, "and Tiffany's got her people working on it. She's at her office," he adds to Daedalus' inquiring glance. "Been there all night, tracing connections. She's convinced we've got someone else involved, maybe another wild card decker," and the shaman winced reflexively. "She's also got an address for us where we can find Vinnie," and at once Daedalus' interest is perked, as the mercenary had known it would be. "But he won't be there until late, she says, so we figured might as well let you sleep in while we did the phone work. Still no word from Inleat, by the way."

"Where?" asks Daedalus, wisps of whatever-it-was evaporating, and Dragon grins a knowing grin: of course the information about Vinnie and his awol vehicle would be the primary thing to catch the rigger. "Some restaurant, a place he owns through a couple of shell companies. But he doesn't usually get there until after 2100."

And then he has it, although he still doesn't completely yet have the words to say what he means, or thinks he means. "That woman," Daedalus says quickly before it's gone again, "the woman you were talking to at Jonah's house, the one who didn't want to be involved. Didn't she say something about Jonah finding out he had a brother?"

[banditf50]

18:32:24 Sunday, 7 January, 2063 - Daedalus' safehouse

Seizing the oppurtunity now that Dragon has exited that bathroom, Virgil begins to rummage through the medicine cabinet searching for something to fight his headache.

"Yeah, she mentioned that Jonah had recently learned that he had a brother, and that he was happy with the news. She also mentioned that his relationship with his father was strained . . . why, you got something?"

[Sedna]

18:33:58 Sunday, 7 January, 2063 - Daedalus' safehouse

"I'm not sure," says Daedalus uncertainly. In attempting to place it into words, it's already fading. "Just ... something about that photograph ..."

[banditf50]

18:34:09 Sunday, 7 January, 2063 - Daedalus' safehouse

Finding a small bottle of Advil . . . no, wait. . Tylenol. Frag all if it make's any difference at this point, Virgil pops one pack with a swig of water taken directly from the sink faucet. Striding back into the bedroom he walks over to the folding chair that was acting as his coat hook and retrieves the photo-strip from his jacket pocket. Striding back to where Daedalus has just swung his legs over the bed, Virgil hover over the rigger, photos in his outstretched hand.

He knew that both his companions likely had digital copies uploaded into their various headware accessories. Copies that they could likely enhance and examine to fine detail with a very thought, yet Virgil still felt like holding onto the original photo gave him an advantage. Perhaps if I was a stronger shaman and was able to wield more advanced assensing techniques I might be able to glean something from the memories surrounding this picture. Perhaps I may yet.

"What do you see man? What's wrong with the scene?"

[Sedna]

18:35:40 Sunday, 7 January, 2063 - Daedalus' safehouse

"It's not what's wrong with it, it's what's right with it ..." Daedalus trailed off again, frowning. "It's in something you guys said earlier. Dragon, didn't you say Tiffany sounded -- well, reacted strongly to seeing Vinnie in that picture? Like, what's the big deal? There's got to be dozens of pix of him around, but what's so special about that particular one?"

Dragon nods slowly. "Only thing I can figure is that the other guy in the picture is Japanese. We already talked about him probably being linked in with the yaks. Virgil, didn't Cindy say something about that?"

The shaman closes his eyes, trying to think. The Tylenol's helping not at all, and the attempt to remember what he'd picked up during that probe seems to lance it even deeper, the pain blurring the boundaries between what was Cindy's and what's cleanly his. "She was made to work for an oyabun," he said at last, wondering if he should maybe take some Gravol as well. The headache was starting to unsettle his stomach. "She thinks Jonah used to be responsible for that nightclub, but that he had gotten far too easy-going about it in recent months. The bottom line was slipping. That's why she had been sent in." A few quick strides take him back to the kitchen -- Daedalus' apartment isn't a large place -- where he pours himself another glass of cold water. Holding it against his forehead seems to help, a little. "I guess that confirms that the nightclub had yak connections, at least. Maybe --" Another piece of Cindy's memories tumbles suddenly into white-hot place: "She'd heard rumours he was related. Some oyabun's illegitimate son, something like that. She didn't know for sure."

"So maybe that's why he was given the gaming house to run?" Dragon shakes his head: "But if he's related, why isn't he more deeply in the syndicate?"

"Maybe he is?" asks Daedalus.

"No," says the shaman, "she was sure about that. She figured him to be too thin-skinned for anything more. Just a nice guy, the gaming house was about his limit."

"Something here isn't adding up," says Dragon with a questioning glance at Virgil, no doubt figuring that the shaman would tell him if it were important. "Why on earth would an oyabun's kid go to a mafioso for protection? Even if he were illegitimate?" And then it hits him: "Unless --"

They're all staring at the photograph strip now, spontaneous, taken in some booth somewhere, and quite probably syndicate dynamite. The two of them don't look at all alike -- and yet, the way they're interacting --

"Vinnie's the brother?" asks Daedalus.

[Moirdryd]

21:00 Saturday January 6th, 2063 - Touristville, The Streets, Seattle

Another two hours had seen Knight walking the sidewalks. He ignored most of the gangs he'd spotted and to those who'd strayed too close a simple opening of his coat had gotten the desired response. Sure these street punks were tough and would stick a shiv in anyone, but none of them walking about at this hour could afford any real firepower, certainly not of the variety to contest with the stopping ability of his own Cavalier Deputy.

He tugged his collar higher and checked his chrono again, sighing.

Another hour before we are due to meet Portia prescious and i dont have a clue even Where....

With that small insight he steps into a public terminal and frowns, noting that its been broken up pretty bad. His feet return him to the sleet ridden sidewalk and the rainy night.

Well, hope you call to let me know

Knight smirks to himself and carries on walking

[WinterRat1]

05:00:00 Saturday, 7 January, 2063 - outside last night's fire elemental/Melissa building

It was one of those kinds of days, where no matter how hard you looked, you weren't going to turn up a lot. Or maybe it was just one of those situations where no matter how hard you looked, there just wasn't much to find. Taking a moment to catch her breath and gulp a steaming cup of soykaf that cut through the bitter early morning chill, Alleycat reflected on the two pieces of information she had been able to hear about, and confirm with a reasonable degree of success.

First, that there were a couple hardcases who looked like professionals beating the bushes looking for her. The count varied, but she was hearing between three and six. That was in line with the knowledge that her corporation, and possibly another corporation was involved in the hunt.

The second piece of info was far more puzzling, and involved a more disturbing rumor. A few people had spilled that a bunch of Asian guys, maybe Chinese, but who could say, cause all Asians look alike, were looking for her also. This was a lot shakier to Alleycat's line of reasoning, but apparently the Chinese(?) hadn't been as subtle as the pros, and were a lot more vocal about looking for her, which meant more people had remembered their presence. Enough people that she felt she had to at least take the possibility seriously, although its implications disturbed her.

Triads? What would their interest be in her? What makes her so special that all these people are looking for her?

Beyond that, she'd turned up zilch. Still it was more than she'd started the day with, so it couldn't be a total loss. Even with that though, she decided that she'd better consider carefully before making her own presence felt as a player in this increasingly complex game...

[WinterRat1]

18:40:11 Sunday, 7 January, 2063 - Daedalus' safehouse

"Oh for crying out loud, you've gotta be fragging kidding me!" Dragon leaned back in his chair in disgust.

"You got another explanation that makes sense?" Daedalus asked.

"I didn't say your guess didn't make sense. I just said you've gotta be kidding me. I mean, come on, that's just an unreal coincidence! Unreal enough that I buy, but unreal nonetheless. Sheesh. What else is going to happen?"

"Ha, well you said you were looking for action, well now you've got it," Virgil grinned thinly at Dragon, seeing right through the mercenary's usual grouch routine.

"Look on the bright side, more parties out there means more people we can try to leverage a profit out of, right?" Daedalus chimed in with his usual laugh that said, 'I'm not really this optimistic but sometimes I like to be an idiot and say stupidly optimistic things just to cheese you off' tone of voice.

"Yeah, and more people trying to whack us," Dragon grumbled. Although I have to admit, if it's this ugly, I'm glad to be here. I wouldn't want Selina to have trusted anyone else with this, and I'm glad she came to me about it.

It was relaxing again, being among those who could see through his usual dour mask and grouchy exterior and didn't take it too seriously. Sometimes Dragon got a little too carried away with his hardcore, efficient mentality, and did crazy stuff, and it was good to have those around him know this and be able to defuse it, without even trying really.

"OK, so that gives us another way to track Jonah down. In fact, a damn good one I think. How close are you to this Vinnie guy Daedalus? Cause if he's looking to help his brother and we can convince him that's exactly what we want also, we might get a real kick start on this situation. What do you think of that possibility?"

[Sedna]

05:30:00 Saturday, 7 January, 2063 - working her way gradually into more civilised areas, open to unexpected opportunities

Nothing ever is what it appears to be, in the shadows. Alleycat smiles tightly, almost triggers a call to Grail to ask him to add what she's learned to his search pattern before she remembers she'll be hearing from him too soon as it is. Fragging message.

But who else does she know who might know anything about what's up with the local triads? It wasn't like she could just step into one of the many small eateries in Seattle's growing Chinatown and start asking questions. There's social environments within which you already have to know and be known before you're allowed in -- and if you already know, why would you ask?

Who do I know, who might have a friend who might know ...

The air feels damp and chill, typical Seattle weather with a bit of an approaching cold front thrown in. One thing about drivers' gloves: they sure don't keep you warm.

... Waking up, soft bed, basking luxuriously in a light beam of sunlight and the warmth left behind by his body ...

As if on cue, cold drizzle begins to sheet on her face and cold hands. Right. Don't forget what's real. Daydreams are nice and all, but you're here and now, Alleycat, and don't you forget it.

Daydreams?

She stops walking, considering this new thought as the rain found its way gradually into the various openings of her clothing: then shrugs and kicks away a piece of garbage at her feet and continues. It's quiet around her but it's far from lifeless, and almost by reflex she finds herself merging into the soft sounds of the night as she continues to walk west and a bit south, away from the sun just beginning to flirt with the horizon at her back. She's not tried this route yet, and it's hours yet till sunrise. She tests out her vague knowledge of the area against the maps she's researched, fitting new knowledge into new contexts, automatically taking a wide detour to avoid an area where she'd heard the Octoberists had staked out some turf, not really caring that it would take at least an extra half hour. It isn't like she's in a hurry. Good to stretch her endurance a little. Good to learn new territory, in the only way it can be truly learned. No sense inviting personal violence in the process.

Library. Why not? Blaze gave me a loose timeframe. Check out the public archives of the Matrixed screamsheets, what they have to say about recent triad activities. And then, the Lone Star press releases and daily report summaries. Maybe I can spot a pattern. And after that ...

She stops again, unhappy, but pragmatic, her mind automatically coming up with the LTG. Maybe I'll have to give Teresa a call.

[paul_HArkonen]

06:59:49Saturday, January 6, 2063 - At home

Just as his internal clock hit 7 Blaze blinked himself awake. Timing it he hit the off switch on his alarmclock just as the buzzer began to go off. I've never needed that... I wonder why I still keep it around. Maybe to pretend I'm normal... Stretching himself he got out of bed. Got to call Alleycat, but first I should take a shower.

Swinging himself out of bed Blaze walked over to his bathroom, turning the water all the way to hot he glanced at himself in a mirror. His face was covered in blond stubble, but some of the bags under his eyes, normally hidden by his shades, were finally beginning to disapear. Stepping into the shower he turned down the temperature somewhat, and then stood in the center, letting the hot water wash away some of the aches in his muscles. Stepping out of the shower 20 minutes later he felt so much better. It really is amazing what 8 hours of sleep will do when you aren't used to it.

Tossing on his clothes Blaze picked up the phone and dialed Alleycat. I will assume she's already awake, but maybe not... I have no idea what her schedule is like.

[Sedna]

07:20:00 Saturday, January 7, 2063 - Arriving at the Auburn doss

The feel of Alleycat's surroundings changes, so gradually that it might as well have been invisible to someone taking the everyday for granted. Direction, spatial awareness, environment. Street signposts are meaningless; but when she has to step aside hurriedly to keep an early morning jogger from running into her, she knows she's left Redmond long behind.

With a quirky smile unseen in the predawn darkness, she dodges into a small piece of green space with a couple of park benches and a gazebo; emerges into visibility in track clothes and wet-weather running shoes. Just that easily she breaks into a long-strided lope, she'll let it take her to the morning mall walk half a bus route up from her place. She inhales deeply the mist and the relatively clean air of winter and of morning, briefly annoyed at the brief few minutes of breathlessness and the initial stitch in her side -- she's far too much out of practice -- but running through it and into her second wind quickly. By the time she pulls up at the door to join the mall walkers inside, 42 minutes later, she's not even breathing quickly. Her face is wet with mist. Her pulse throbs lightly through the bright tingle of her skin.

Camouflage of those around her to slip into the mall washroom and then out through a back door, avoiding the security cameras she'd traced there earlier: and then Anne is finally on her way home. She'll have plenty of time for her morning workout, sun salutation, shower. How long has it been since she could say that?

She steps out of the shower just on time to hear the soft buzz of an incoming call in the earpiece of her phone. Blaze's number. Replacing it in her ear without bothering with the towel, she answers simply, "Alleycat."

[Tiredronin]

18:42:21 Sunday, 7 January, 2063 - Daedalus' safehouse

"I think that sounds great, only I have never actually met Vinnie and only know what he looks like through this picture. Problem is, since it seems his schedule has been somewhat disrupted, it may be hard to find him according to his normal patterns."

"Still, he is expecting me to contact him to conclude our business arrangement, which means he'll have to make himself available somehow. We can look for him at the resturant, and at least he'll hear we've been looking for him... he'll really notice if our 'friends' decide to show up and make another scene, which I don't think is exactly the effect we will want."

"But that aside, when we do get in touch with him, do we have some way of proving our good intentions for his brother?"

[WinterRat1]

19:00:00 Sunday, 7 January, 2063 - Daedalus' safehouse

Dragon sat in silence for a while, thinking, playing through the angles in his mind. The others sat there as well, lost in thought. Other than the occasional clinking of Virgil's water glass, it was silent.

Finally, he sat up and rubbed his eyes with his hands. It had been a long fragging what, not even a day? "OK, here's the way I see it. We've sat around on our hoops long enough. But we gotta keep on the move, because I'm sure they'll be moving as well. I think I've come up with a few things we can all check out."

Turning to Virgil, he says, "OK, Father Bremen and Jonah are obviously reasonably tight, right? Daedalus, you said Shifty set you up with this Vinnie. Between Shifty and Father Bremen, maybe the two of them can come up with something, a letter of recommendation, a phone call, I don't know, something to convince this guy that we've got Jonah's best interests in mind. It's not much, but that's all I can think of right now."

Ticking off the points on his fingers, Dragon gets up and begins pacing the room. "Next, I'm a full-fledged believer in kicking the enemy when they're down. What I'd really like to do is find Sonny Boy and take him out for good. That guy was a fragging monster, and if we can put him away while he's on his back and not on his feet, I'm all for that. So if we can locate the DocWagon clinic he's at, maybe take him out, that'd make me feel a whole lot better, for a variety of reasons."

He glances at Virgil, expecting him to say something about murder or assassination and morality and all that, but for once the shaman is silent. Must be that killer headache. Hopefully it hasn't affected his effectiveness? We'll deal with that when it comes as well.

"Third, let's put the heat back on these guys. We have names or at least aliases, descriptions of a type. There's a number on Shadowland I saw earlier, LTG 4206-74-9444, saying to call if we had any information. Either it's them trying to ferret out info or it's a legit source. If we can get some security to stop a back trace, and even better, to trace the number, I'd like to call and check it out."

Pausing, he takes the radio out of the bag and hands it to Virgil, barely pausing before he continues his planning.

Fourth, I want to call Lone Star and Tiffany, give them the dirt on these guys. Let's crank up the heat. If the Star is beating the bush for them, and the media's splashing their aliases and descriptions, or what we have of them at least on the trid, that'll hopefully restrict their movements and keep them from having a free run."

"Sounds like we've got a busy day ahead of us," Daedalus remarked, leaning back in his chair, arm dangling casually over the back of the chair next to it.

With a thin smile, Dragon answered, "Did you expect anything else?"

They shared a grin, genuine this time, before the mercenary snapped his fingers and added, "Oh, and I want to check in on Tiffany, see if she needs any help clearing her name right now. We're going to need to get to that eventually, let's see if there's anything we can do now. Ugh, we'll need to start looking for Roberto too, see how he's mixed up in all this. Not to mention see who the other corp is beating the bush here, 'Corp Devo'."

Sitting down at the kitchen table, Dragon scribbles some notes to himself, making a list. A list that would be burned, of course, but he found it still helped to organize his thoughts on paper sometimes. He was a bit old fashioned like that. When he was done, it read something like this:

• Virgil
• Call Father Bremen about getting an introduction stating good intentions towards Jonah for Vinnie
• Call Inleat again and follow up on DIMR/ASPS involvement
• Potential ritual tracking of Roberto via material link?

• Daedalus
• Call Shifty about introduction to Vinnie: ask about vouching for our good intentions towards Jonah
• Check on getting secure line for phone call to annoymous number on Shadowland about Tommy Wong's
• Look for alternative sources of firepower in addition to/instead of the van, if necessary

• Dragon
• Find Sonny Boy and take him out, if possible
• Drop information about opposition to Lone Star and interested media (Tiffany) parties
• Check with Tiffany to see if we can help clear her name right now
• Call Bob/Go to clinic and find out what he's got in terms of cracking the files
• Call Global and ask about Roberto, 'Corp Devo', biological project in general

Sliding the list across to Daedalus, he immediately clarifies, "We'll be traveling together, and doing all the ground pounding as a group, so we can stick together. But the phone calls and tasks as far as talking to our contacts and what not, that we should just make the calls now, if only to start the process rolling and give the wheels time to turn."

He pauses for one last moment, and adds, "Oh yeah, and about that fragging rigger...so I was thinking, maybe it's time to put in that call for a missile launcher. Unless you've got one handy?"

"You're joking, right?" Virgil groans from his spot on the couch, where he hasn't moved in almost half an hour. He looks up to see the two mercenaries staring at him like he's an idiot, and groans again, "You're serious."

"I doubt it'll get here in time, but after our last two encounters with these guys, damn it all if I'm not going to at least try to get me something that'll let me shoot back."

He scribbles that addition on the list under his name. A short notation that adds simply, "Get Missile launcher."

When they've all memorized their tasks and played over in their hands what they'd be doing, Dragon carefully burns the list and looks up at his teammates. "All right then, that's plenty to be doing. Let's get moving."

[WinterRat1]

19:05:01 Sunday, 7 January, 2063 - Daedalus' safehouse

And that was really what kickstarted the group back into gear. Not so much the list of things to do, for a good deal of the phone work had been done already, but the organizing of thoughts, the mental rearrangement of things that had to be done, referencing that to what was already done, and then getting ready for what could still be done.

While Virgil painstakingly began scribbling some notes on the possibility of using ritual magic to find Roberto when they had the chance, and Daedalus was preparing his stuff, Dragon mentally ran through his own checklist.

Let's see...already talked to Tiffany and Bob, so Global should be able to take care of the rest of the stuff on the list. All right, Global it is then.

Dialing up the info broker on his head phone, Dragon mentally transmitted, "Hey it's me. Thanks for the info you got, but it's looking like I need you to track down some more information for me."

"What else is new, that's all you want from me anyway." Global replied in his usual dry, caustic tone.

"Ha, you're just bitter because I beat you in chess the last time we played."

"Yeah yeah yeah. You got lucky kid. So what do you want now?"

"All right, here's what's up. I need you to track down anything you can on Roberto Martinez. I have reason to believe he's been kidnapped, and I need to track him down. Also, can you find out where Sonny Boy of the team that went after us is? I'd like to take him out of the game permanently if at all possible. I also need some research done on something called 'Corp Devo', related to a biological weapon project that may have had some testing done in the Barrens. I've got someone working on decrypting the file right now, when I have it, you'll be next one to know about it. I realize that's broad as frag, but hopefully once we get the file it'll narrow things down for you. Last, can you send the info you have on the team that's after us to Lone Star and any interested media outlets you can think of? Hopefully it'll put some pressure back on them and take it off us in the process."

"Jesus kid, what do you think this is, Christmas?"

"Ha, not yet, this is more like a New Year's gift. And one more thing, I need you to tell me anything you know about this restaurant, I think it's Mob connected. I've got a meet there in about 2 hours, so anything I can know going in would be really helpful. Maps of the surrounding areas, blueprints of the building, you know, the usual." Dragon reads off the name and address to the restaurant, and repeats it once for clarity.

"Got it. Man oh man, you know what you're tab is going to be?"

"I owe you Global, and don't worry, I'm good for it."

"Damn straight you are. The job I sent your way will look like cake by the time I send you a job to cover all that you're accumulating here." Global grins and disconects, and Dragon does likewise. Sometimes it was good to have friends.

Ugh, I don't think I'm fully established here yet, I don't know if I can reach supply to get my hands on that missile launcher. Put that on my list of things to do when I can. For now, I guess we'll just have to rely on Daedalus to handle the rigger. OK, I think that covers it for now...unless I missed something?