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

[Sedna]

11:01:01 Sunday, 07 January, 2063 - the front gate of a truck lot up in Snohomish

Early she's not, but she's not "late" yet either; right now, she'll settle. Helped that one of the first things she'd done, once she'd become "Anne", was to memorise the mass transit schedules; and now she's also starting to catch the quirks of the individual routes. Alleycat hadn't been consciously thinking about it, but it can't have hurt that this time it was her who wasn't exactly on time.

The dwarf's there, and trying not to look impatient (without much success), and when he finally spots her he looks openly relieved.

[Sedna]

11:02:01 Sunday, 07 January, 2063 - the front gate of a truck lot up in Snohomish

"Hoi, elf girl. Thought for a bit there you weren't gonna turn up."

Alleycat smiled a slow smile, running her fingers through her newly re-acquired dark dreadlocks in a slow, sinuous stretch. (She'd have preferred to have properly wet-braided them, but the mana would do in a pinch, and its feel wouldn't linger for too long.) "You came through. I'm here. You have a ticket for me?"

He holds it out to her, the movement automatically compensating for several concealed weapons. "Like I said, lot 13, storage area 412. You want to check the goods?"

One short shake of her head as she takes it. "You came through. I know you're good for it." She puts the ticket away without glancing at it. "We'll pick this up sometime before the week is up. You said the trucks were rented. Do we have a deadline when they have to be back?"

The dwarf -- doesn't fidget. Almost nothing physical shows in his stance except the single shift that -- almost -- brought a weapon into greater awareness. "Maybe 'borrowed' would be a better word." As Alleycat's posture hardens slightly he quickly adds, "You're clear, I swear. These trucks cross the Salish border regularly. Right now and for the next three weeks, they're supposed to be in for regular maintenance. You'll bring them back in good condition and gassed up, right?"

"I see," she says neutrally, no intonation in her voice.

"There won't be no problems," Durin says firmly. "I'm the one what called in this marker. Nothing can go wrong, but if it does, it's on me only."

At last the girl nods slowly, accepting it -- and is a bit surprised at how relieved he is. I'd never seen myself as someone holding power over other people. I just used what I needed to do the job and get out. "Hoi, Durin," she calls out as he's turning away, "never got your LTG."

"I didn't give it," he growls, quickly scribbling out a number on a scrap of paper he fishes out from one of the many pockets of his longcoat and handing it to her. She takes it with a second almost-smile: "Uneasy times, these. Good to know who a chummer can trust at her back."

"Huh," he says, unaware that he's shifting slightly from foot to foot. "Good luck on that run of yours, elf girl. You're going to need it."

"Why?" and she lets the smile grow, ever so slightly. "You heard something?"

"Not down the way you're heading, but yeah, I heard a couple of things, make me kind of glad you're clearing the city for a while."

He's personalised it, Alleycat realises. If he'd been thinking about the team as a whole, he would have said "you guys". "Durin," she says carefully, "what are you able to tell me about what's going on?"

[WinterRat1]

10:26:07 Saturday, 07 January, 2063 - Astral Space by The Big Rhino


After thoroughly scanning astral space with the help of his newly summoned watcher, Blaze concludes that there is no signs of a setup that he can detect. The crowd is thin, with the restaurant just starting to gear up for the early lunch crowd. He doesn't see the auras of their contacts from last tiime, and concludes that he must have arrived here before they did. Among the sparse clientele, it doesn't look like there's anyone with remotely hostile intentions at this moment in time.

[WinterRat1]

11:08:51 Sunday, 07 January, 2063 - the front gate of a truck lot up in Snohomish

"You're asking a lot, you know," he says, his gaze rising to meet hers. "I wish you guys the best and all, but maybe you should just take my word for it that you're better off that the job's out of the city, kay?"

[Sedna]

11:09:06 Sunday, 07 January, 2063 - the front gate of a truck lot up in Snohomish

"I know," she says simply, but on a slightly upward, uncertain intonation rather than the downward of closure, and lets it hang there ...

[WinterRat1]

11:09:31 Sunday, 07 January, 2063 - the front gate of a truck lot up in Snohomish

Looking around quickly, he motions Alleycat in closer. She leans forward slightly, not making herself vulnerable but enough to set Durin's mind at ease. He says softly, "Look, let's just say that it's a pretty good bet we'll be having some syndicate trouble soon, and pretty widespread. Word on the streets says Mafia and Yakuza for now, but it could get a lot bigger before it's all over. Now let's just leave it at that, and be glad you'll be on a working vacation."

His tone makes it clear that he's spilled all he's going to, and she can tell he's nervous about even telling her that much.

[Sedna]

11:11:02 Sunday, 07 January, 2063 - the front gate of a truck lot up in Snohomish

Guess I better not ask about the Triads then ... though it's worth noting that he didn't mention them.

And her earlier speculation had panned out in spades: it had been Durin acting as Bigio's messenger back then, at the Last Drop. She had only caught a glimpse of him then (and if she'd caught more, maybe they'd not be having this conversation now); and at the Paradigm Shift she'd not yet been sure -- something about wayward elementals encouraging discretion in probing as the better part of valour -- but now, as much in his element as she intended ever to encounter him: she was sure.

She smiled and thanked him, and swayed forward and almost in the same instant checked what looked to have become a spontaneous hug; and his hand almost had the Predator clear before he recognised the motion for what it was. "Fragging hell, girl, you looking to get yourself killed? You got a job to do, a good one! Ain't all that many of those, out here. Now go, make yourself useful."

She took the careful step back, shoulders slumped. "You're a good friend, Durin," she says softly.

"Ain't no such thing, in the shadows," he replies, a little too roughly.

She nods, and turns her back, and walks away.

[Sedna]

11:11:52 Sunday, 07 January, 2063 - the front gate of a truck lot up in Snohomish

Once she's sure she's out of range (and dodging through the confines of a useful nearby park), she ventures the quick call to Tin Star who, not surprisingly, had been running late as well:

"Alleycat. On my way, got delayed by our truck --" allowing the grin to show in her voice, allowing it to suggest the rest. "Should be there in ten, twenty if the traffic's against me. See you then."

Disconnecting, leaving the same message with Blaze on his voicemail. (His voicemail?)

It's Sal who emerges from the park, cutting across the wide bend of the road at a run to catch the bus just pulling in. Good, first part of the connection worked out. One more and then the cab, and I just might be able to cut that estimate to nine.

[paul_HArkonen]

11:20:59 Sunday, 07 January, 2063 - Astral space, near the Rhino

Flitting back and forth between his body and the "air" above the Rhino Blaze manages to keep a decent eye on both his body and the resaurant.

Pausing in front of the Rhino he takes a moment to study an oddly familiar aura heading towards him. I'm pretty sure that's Alleycat, she may be able to change her apearance, but astrally she's the same.

Jumping back to his body Blaze drains the remainder of his Soykaf and stands up. Switching to the astral once more he turns to his Watcher. "I want you to look for any astral bad guys and let me know if you see them. Ok?" The watcher nods slightly and purs, then takes up a position just over Blaze's right shoulder.

Heading out of the Coffee shop Blaze walks towards the Rhino, aiming to time it so that he gets to the door the same time Alleycat does.

[Moirdryd]

23:40 Saturday January 6th, 2063 - Near the Paradigm shift, Touristville, Redmond

Knight and Portia had passed through the very tight security of the Paradigm Shift and were now seated in a small booth off the main dance floor. The stringent security proceedures had once again caused Knight to consider the real nature of the club, but such concerns were soon swept aside by the gentle and teasing nature that Portia so often displayed in his presence.

I wonder how much of thise is really you Portia, precious? the thought entered bitterly and unwanted into Knight's mind but was just as quickly banished again. He offered a smile to his companion as she returned to the booth with drinks.

"So, my Knight" she purred softly "Why are you here in Seattle so much earlier than planned"

He sighed; So, she was back on this.... he took a deep swallow from his glass and met her gaze evenly, not bothering to hide the pain that flickers through his eyes.

"Harvey and Pixiedust both got iced" he speaks in plain english, not able to form the words in elegant sperethial. Another swallow follows the words.

Portia gave a few blinks, silence stealing her usually fluid purring voice for a few moments before...

"How?"

Knight straigtened his jaw a little, teeth pressing hard. His words were barely above a whisper.

"That son of a slitch, Ambrose. Him and his goons. Would`ve done me too if i hadnt been lucky" another tilt of the glass and the alchohol was gone.

They sat in silence as the lifebeat of the club roared about them. Slowly Portia started talking again, twisting and turning his thoughts away from Tir Tairngire. An hour later they were smiling a laughing again, but much of it was still tainted by the shadow of Knight's past.

02:30 Sunday January 7th, 2063 - Cao Jaan`s Halfway House- Redmond Barrens

Glad that the drinks of earlier were warming him artificially against the lousey weather of early morning Seattle, Knight once more approached the doors of the Halfway House. He`d had Portia take him by the coffin hotel he`d been booked into to retrieve his things and now he was ready to begin this job for Cao and get on with finding the meanings in his life again.

[Sedna]

15:32 Sunday, 07 January, 2063 - UDub library

The campus is livelier now, patchworked with students returning after the holidays with bright new clothing and clean underwear and Christmas family nuyen and the second half of their funding about to kick in. At the last moment Alleycat had asked Blaze to drop her off at a small student pub just outside the university grounds. "Sal" had already shifted subtly to a student gruntwork wageslave Alleycat during the ride itself. Now, it's Anne who leaves the dim, dingy pub through its back door, pulling her coat tighter around herself against the sudden, searing, slicing wind. Fragging city. How can there be this much of a coming storm in the air, and the sun still showing through the clouds?

The appointment with the dean of psychology took longer than the five minutes she had hoped for, he'd been showing a genuine interest in her situation and where she wanted to head now with her studies -- just what I need, a thesis supervisor who cares -- but she managed to escape with a couple of essay courses that wouldn't require much of her beyond developing a reading list for the 100% final graded papers, as well as another appointment with the dean at the end of the month to assess her progress and resolve any issues. Escaping his office finally, another person who wasn't Alleycat might have sighed in relief: but Anne wouldn't have, and so Alleycat doesn't -- can't. Instead, she walks over to the library, stepping off the pathway twice for the three or so bicycles that try to run down her and every other invisible person who happened to be in their way.

At the library she finds new resources opened to her, and so Anne quietly sets the searches in motion: reading lists, periodicals, screamsheets (in such a way that the search just happened to bring up every local paper for the past three weeks) ... and, quietly buried among all the rest, touching upon a few public government databases where she had -- not yet -- left a name. Trail needed to be quite a bit more confused before she could make the Melissa search more explicit: but she'd get there before the end of today.

Something left undone ... oh, yes. She left the database search engines to their work, pulling up the information she'd requested and piling it into her student e-mailbox; while she slipped back off campus but not quite yet away from Anne. Predictably she gets a voice mailbox when she calls him -- at which she realises that it would have startled her indeed to get anything other than a recording -- and leaves a message that something came up, could she please postpone the date?

So there's another thing done.

Just one more for the immediate future then: but it wouldn't do to seek out Black Tony without bearing some version of a four-wheeled offering ... and besides, she could use the money. Or maybe she could take part of its value in kind, maybe a swap for a basic sim trainer for driving trucks? Thought becomes action: fully Alleycat now, she transfers off two buses before she finds an appropriate parking lot surrounding a careless, middling-sized mall; and, in the security camera deadspot, a careless wageslave just parking an Americar so average it almost vanished into its background beside something that, but for a couple of misplaced dings, might have been its exact clone.

She's so much a part of the pattern of this place that no one even notices when she quickly switches the plates, jimmies open the door, and drives off, fingers already searching under the dashboard for the wires which would render the first the transponder chip and then the stop-me useless. Even now the driving itself still isn't natural to her, not the way the electronics are: but the autopilot compensates for a lot of that -- let it obey the traffic laws for you, don't try to override it -- and she's fragging forcing herself to attune herself gradually to the rest.

Not that she intends to have a great deal of time to deal with it in this car. Two sets of misdirections later, and she's finally on her way to Black Tony's.

[Sedna]

15:48 Sunday, 07 January, 2063 - Black Tony's garage, on the wrong side of Touristville

He doesn't even glance up as she pulls around the corner, just wipes off his hands with a greasy rag and thumbs her toward an opening garage door. Another might have seen it as a weak spot in his security. If anyone ever tried to take advantage of it, they'd quickly have at least five gangs Alleycat knew of (and probably more she didn't) breathing down their throat. As the major vehicle clearing house and chopshop in this part of the almost-Barrens, Black Tony's garage is considered neutral turf for a reason.

As soon as she's clear the garage door begins to close behind her. She hops out of the vehicle as soon as its engine stops, wincing at a last cough precipitating a second of run-on. Price just went down another ten percent.

She doesn't know the place well enough to know what's normal by it, but every other time she'd been here he'd had one of the guys take a looksee first. However, Lakshmi's nowhere in sight (so Alleycat'll have to postpone asking about the Puyallup garage-shaped space she'd mentioned last time); Drulo's under the hood of something sleek and vaguely exotic over in the next bay with an anxious and very proud Leatherbacks ganger hovering beside him; and Kyle's, well, being Kyle. So this time it's Tony himself who lifts up the hood and starts examining it ... which means that the next several minutes pass in complete silence. Not a talkative type, him.

In time he releases the hood and starts working his way around the car, and he'll go under it and into it before he'll give her any kind of price -- and that'll be fragging near non-negotiable. All of his mechanics do the same. She's gotten to know that much from experience.

Just once, she interrupts: to mention that she'd be willing to consider a trade in kind -- looking for a sim rental -- and to add that "You were right, about the Scoot."

She knows he's heard. Never mind that he doesn't bother acknowledging.

"Why do they call him 'Black' Tony anyway?" asks the young, proud, bored ganger.

Alleycat glances over his way, the visor concealing the startled surprise in her. Hadn't the kid looked at him?

She shrugs: "Got me."

[Sedna]

16:52 Sunday, 07 January, 2063 - outside the Paradigm Shift, Touristville

Along with the sim she'd requested he'd handed Alleycat a certified credstick: more than a month's pay at the Last Drop, less, far less, than what she'd abandoned. She'd accepted it without a word. For all that she'd worked out a few reasonably predictable responses, she'd not yet really been able to figure out anything of substance of Black Tony. From the beginning theirs had always been a strict business relationship, she perfectly willing to work her way back up the food chain by faithful implementation of the acquire-low, sell-at-more paradigm, he introduced by Ripper as the reliable middleman who'd ensure that the acquisitions found their way elsewhere. From the beginning they'd fallen easily into the comfort of understanding, each, where the other stood -- yet it was an understanding that began and ended with the intersection of their common business. If he'd spoken twenty words together to her, she'd be surprised. Still, there seem to be aspects of him that she can definitely appreciate in herself: not least that as nearly as she can tell, work is his life, and he exists in his work ... maybe only in the aspect of work. Sometimes, she wonders what she'd become, if she ever learned his language. Never mind eyes, language is the window into the soul.

She smiles to herself, remembering how she'd looked up then, to meet his flat, inhuman gaze with one of her own; nodded a matter-of-fact acknowledgement; turned her back on him and walked away, the proceeds heavy in her pocket. She has a place of her own within this network. In that, she's the equal of any gang here.

Time, time, time.

It had been the matter of a few moments to check that her searches were quietly working their way through the massive amount of material available: a few pieces already downloaded to her account quickly scanned, nothing yet twinging correlation at her, set aside for later. A moment of surprised pleasure: discovering the latest issue of Psychol UCAS waiting in her e-account, subscription freshly renewed.

No message yet from Sivalius. Automatic check: her phone service confirms the earlier sending. No matter, she'll follow this up later. For now, instinctively following up on what Blaze had suggested earlier, a couple of trail back-checks later her feet bring her to one of the trendy outlets fanning out along Auburn west -- but she's got to go different, different outfit, different outfit ... what is the fashionable teenager wearing to places like the Paradigm Shift, these days? The displays are meaningless to her. She's about exhausted her existing wardrobe, she'd have had to purchase something new or at least not too abused for the date in any case. Either that, or go as Alianna.

Teenager ... she'd already been thinking maybe something in a jumpsuit, and she remembers hearing something about the Victory line that might suit. There's customisation available, but she doesn't have time for all that, just get a basic model for now in a store with two very giggly storeclerks, have them show her how to set it to a deep red (that should match Blaze, shouldn't it?) and let them deck her out in the accessories to match her raven-tressed updo and "native" skintone: beads, neopagan amulets, genuine Cascade Ork boots. She even lets them play with a pair of horn-rimmed one-way opaque black shades, holding her eyes shut against the "glare" for the brief moment before the younger of the two girls settles them on her nose. She has no doubt that, if mirrors were relevant, she'd not recognise herself.

And isn't that the point?

Fling the leather jacket on top with the shoulder harness underneath and the taser in her pocket, stash the other clothing into a bus terminal temp-locker (into which she switches the business card from two nights ago) ... arriving eight minutes ahead of the agreed-upon meeting time at the Paradigm Shift, with the expected bouncers, but for once without a line.

Sunday? or just early?

[Morgannah]

22:20:23 Thursday 04 January 2063 - AMI Networking, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo all but melted into the shadowed hallway, slinking forward at a half-crouch until she'd gained the deeper shadows of a reception area. Her world was cast in familiar verdant shades, from the nearly black mossy hue beneath a desk to the electric water in the aquarium to her left, the surreal shades lent her a certain sense of detachment from 'here,' and 'now. She smiled slightly and watched a pair of fish circling one another, their sleeky scaled bodies suspended in the eerily glowing tank, their lazy movements echoed in the sultry glide of her hips as she made her way toward the rear of the room.

The detailed schematic of the building that hovers in the uppermost corner of her vision indicates that the door to her right opens into the shortest route to her destination. A thought zooms in and rotates the map.

Forward ten meters and then right. Up the stairs and right again....

It was almost a chant; one that mingled with footfalls nearly as quiet as her thoughts as she ghosted across a catwalk high above the factory floor. The door to the shipping office was locked, naturally, but opened easily enough with some persuasion. An outdated but well-maintained computer basked the tiny room in faintly radioactive light. Cosmo grinned from behind her mask and settled in for a bit of work.

Come on, baby. Show me what you've got.

[grendel]

22:20:29 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Trans-shipment office, AMI Networking, Los Angeles, CFS

Deft keystrokes on the desktop inlay brought the holographic display live. It was a matter of seconds to list out the inventory in the office, and to highlight the required items. The red sidebar is a mystery for a moment, until the red strobes on the factory floor become apparent.

Oh frag.

[Morgannah]

22:20:38 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Trans-shipment office, AMI Networking, Los Angeles, CFS

Oh frag.

Cosmo bit off a stream of curses as she made the requisite changes to her mental shopping list. Fingers that had flown across the keyboard now flew to the assortment of gear strapped to her body, finding a small gas mask and fastening behind her head. She growled softly as she crept back onto the catwalk, hands hovering over any assortment of weapons until she found the way clear. Red strobe-light mingled with the eerie green overlay of her goggles, turning everything a sickly brown.

Cosmo grumbled under her breath and leapt gracefully to the factory floor, landing with hardly a sound and pausing only a second to clear the floor around her. Finding nothing and no one (a bit odd), she started in on her search, alert as always.

[grendel]

22:22:05 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Factory Floor, AMI Networking, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo's search, guided by her virtual recon, is swift. Boxes are pulled from shelves, stacked in the aisle ready for a quick withdrawal. The digital readout in the corner of her vision drives her relentlessly as she runs her fingers across the inventory numbers stenciled on the crates around her. The sound of running footsteps and the hydraulic whine of security doors closing are closing rapidly. Time is not on her side.

[Morgannah]

22:22:37 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Factory Floor, AMI Networking, Los Angeles, CFS

Frag, frag, frag.

There was something about being chased and systematically cornered that brought a faint sense of panic, making it somewhat difficult to move systematically herself. There was no help for her increased pulse or the adrenaline that started to course along her veins. As much as she disliked being run to ground, Cosmo couldn't quite stop the feral grin that spread across her covered face. One hand plucked a neuro stun grenade from her belt.

She almost laughed.

Dashing over to the factory floor's door, she made quick work of fastening the grenade to the handle, silently willing it to trigger as the security personnel passed by. That done, she very nearly sprints to the loading bay, grabs one of the handtrucks, and rushes back to her neat stack of boxes. The digital timer, counting down from five minutes, flashes in the corner of her vision.

02:38

02:37

02:36

[grendel]

22:22:40 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Factory Floor, AMI Networking, Los Angeles, CFS

"Freeze!"

Footsteps pound across the catwalk overhead as a trio of security guards with weapons drawn move to intercept the intruder. Each of them wears a helmet with a clear faceshield, black LBV, and an armored jumpsuit, stenciled with the winged dagger of Blackwater Security. The guards' HK227s feature gas vent porting on the barrels, as well as an underbarrel forehand grip.

[Morgannah]

22:22:40 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Factory Floor, AMI Networking, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo rolled her eyes, not even bothering to acknowledge the guards above her. A cursory glance around the room told her that she'd have fairly decent cover until she'd gained the door.

She ran, pushing the handtruck ahead of her, ready to duck to one side if things started to go south.

Started?! Where do you think you are, girl?

[grendel]

22:22:41 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Factory Floor, AMI Networking, Los Angeles, CFS

One of guards skids to a halt where the catwalk T's, bracing his submachinegun on the railing and ripping off a pair of bursts at Cosmo. The remaining two guards break to the right, heading for the stairs leading down to the factory floor.

[Morgannah]

22:22:42 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Factory Floor, AMI Networking, Los Angeles, CFS

Grinding her teeth as both bursts slam into her back, one after another, Cosmo pushes forward, continuing her headlong rush to the loading bay doors. The clang of booted feet running down the stairs bring some small measure of relief, though. She'd have been lost if they'd stayed up to shoot her.

A bit of luck, but would it hold?

[grendel]

22:22:43 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Factory Floor, AMI Networking, Los Angeles, CFS

The guard on the catwalk lines up for another pair of bursts, just as his cohorts manage to detonate the neurostun grenade thoughtfully left behind by Cosmo. A choking gray cloud envelopes the three.

[Morgannah]

22:22:44 Thursday 04 January 2063 - Loading Bay, AMI Networking, Los Angeles, CFS

The soft whoosh of air leaving her lungs was the only sign that she took another hit, though she was sure there would be more signs .. later .. when she was in a position to make a bit more noise. A final burst of speed saw her to the loading bay doors, with half a second to open, and then begin closing the portal. Even if she had to duck her head to leave AMI Networking, the few seconds she bought could still serve her well.

She let out a hard breath and scanned the parking lot, taking in the light traffic and the sounds of distant sirens closing in.

Just enough time to get the frag out of here.

Cosmo grimaced, took one last look around, and sprinted to the dirty blue Accord that had gotten her here....

[WinterRat1]

16:55:00 Sunday, 07 January, 2063 - outside the Paradigm Shift, Touristville

Blaze arrives first, about three minutes after Alleycat. He doesn't recognize her in her disguise, so she waves him down and smiles slightly. "Like the matching outfits?" Smiling back, he nods, and the two of them make small talk while keeping a close eye out for their partner for the evening.

At exactly 17:00:00 hours, two things happen, first, Blaze sees Klaus, a large troll dressed in a trench coat and fedora, striding towards them. As he nods in greeting, Alleycat's phone rings. It's Sivalius.

To pick up, or not to pick up, that is the question... she thinks to herself as she too noticed the large troll heading towards the two of them.

"Hoi chummer, you read to go?" the big troll asks Blaze while Alleycat pauses for a moment, deciding.