Living in the Shadows: IC, Jan 8th-14th Options

[grendel]

22:53:17 Monday 08 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

"Well, hello, beautiful."

Cosmo looked up from her tiramisu without the surprise that someone else might have felt at being greeted like that. The voice is vaguely familiar, but filled with a sultry tone that was missing from the phone call. Scrye is a slim asian woman, with flawless olive skin and dark eyes accented by upswept strokes of dark crimson eye shadow. Her hair, a cascade of black that matched the bodysuit she wore, was shot through with crimson highlights as well. She draped her long coat over the chair opposite Cosmo, the twin dragons embroidered on the back catching the light from the overhead spots.

"It was a man, wasn't it? Just tell me his name, beautiful, and I'll find him. I'll get the cheating bastard for you. Or do you want her name? I can get that just as easily."

Her smile is feral and enticing at the same time, a hunter only partially sated by shooting pictures of her prey.

[Morgannah]

22:53:58 Monday 08 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo wanted to grin. She wanted to laugh and wink but settled for a soft chuckle and a raised eyebrow as she motioned to the seat across from her. A small plate of her favourite pastries decorated the middle of the table along with another serving of Il Grano's tiramisu. Spirits, it wasn't all for her....

"I took the liberty of ordering a few extra treats in case you were interested."

She smiled, eyeing the woman closely for a moment (lovely curves in addition to some serious bodyware). It didn't require her level of perception to notice that Scrye was watching her just as closely.

"Men .. I can handle." Cosmo did grin this time, white teeth and dimples flashing almost enchantingly. "I need someone followed for a while. Eyes only with extra pay for photos I can use afterward. Five hundred for the tail and another five for digital media. Does this sound like something you'd want to do?"

[grendel]

22:55:03 Monday 08 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Instead of answering right away, Scrye selects one of the small pastry bites filled with a sweet raspberry compote. She pops it in her mouth and chews slowly, rolling her eyes in delight.

"Mmmm. Delicious."

She dabs at the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

"Surveillance is my specialty. If you asked me here for anything else, this conversation would be over. But, this? This is what I live for. Give me all the details of the target."

[Morgannah]

22:56:12 Monday 08 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

"Aren't they, though?"

Cosmo tilted her head to one side, 'mmm'ing softly as she licked a leftover fleck of sweetened marscapone from the corner of her mouth, giving them both a full minute to savor their dessert before continuing.

"The target should be a youth, around thirteen years old, arriving here tomorrow at noon. He, or she, will use the name Kald and likely arrive with an escort. Armed, naturally. We'll be freeforming tomorrow, but somehow I think you can handle that. Kald's meeting is with me, so identifying the target will not be difficult."

"Do you have any questions?"

[grendel]

22:56:49 Monday 08 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

"No, no questions. You won't see me again until the surveillance is complete. Here, tomorrow night."

Scrye raps her knuckle on the table.

"Half up front."

[Morgannah]

22:56:56 Monday 08 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

A slim credstick flickered between Cosmo's fingers before Scrye's knuckles left the table. A small business card followed, blank, aside from her own LTG number written in neat block numbers on one side.

"So we stay flexible." Her dimple made a brief appearance as she gave a slight wink. "Call me Cosmo, too."

"Tomorrow night."

[grendel]

22:57:21 Monday 08 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

The credstick and the card vanish into Scrye's pockets. She tips her head, sliding from her seat and draping her longcoat over her shoulders.

"Tomorrow night."

[Scrapheap]

01:00:02 Wednesday, 10 January, 2063 – A Warehouse in the Barrens

Scrapheap climbed wildly, clambering up the shelving unit as quickly as his jacked reflexes would allow. From his vantage point he could see Cao Jaan waving his arms and yelling for the homeless fraggers he sheltered and protected to run. It did little good, as the soldiers mercilessly cut down the helpless.

Bullets began to wiz past him as well, clattering against the shelves and nicking his armored clothing. Finally, a burst hit him squarely in the left shoulder. Through a combination of the distances involved, his heavily armored jacket, and cyberware the rounds flattened harmlessly, barely slowing his ascent.

Suddenly he saw Cao fly backwards as though struck with a giant, invisible hand. The bad guys had an spell-slinger, and they had just made their presence known. The thought barely registered when the shelving unit was rocked by the impact of the very same spell. Scrapheap's right hand slipped from the shelves and he hung suspended by his cybered left. He could feel how unstable the shelves had become and momentarily thought about dropping the few meters to the floor and heading for the stairs. A quick glance upwards showed Lady Dove vainly trying to help Nora, who still clung to the railing with one hand, screaming for help.

He gritted his teeth around his forgotten cigarette and reached for the next shelf.

[grendel]

21:07:44 Saturday, 13 January 2063 - outside 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma

The chill air of the January night swirls down the street, raking its icy fingers over Tony's vehicle and forcing him to run the heater at regular intervals. The harsh wind drives most of the normal squatter population indoors. Those unlucky enough to be caught outside cluster around trashcan fires, hands and faces red from the cold.

The object of his surveillance sits unmoved by the shriek of the winter wind, its windows dark and silent, door shut tight against the blowing snow. Nothing has stirred in the building since Tony arrived forty minutes ago, and there's been no activity on the street to indicate that anything is likely to happen in the near future. Thus the shiver of his commlink to an incoming call is a welcome distraction. The voice on the other end of the line is a strange, multi-tonal electronic construct.

"Zeyda said you needed an expert. They call me Xayide. Where can you meet?"

[bclements]

21:07:58 Saturday, 13 January 2063 - outside 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma

Nice, more electronic voice drek. I'm getting sick and tired of this Tony said, boredom and cold making him a less cheerful by the minute. He'd half thought that Red Queen was giving him another call until the modulated voice identified itself.

"Call me Hillbilly", Tony said, trying and not succeeding in matching the untonal voice that was on the line with him. "I can meet anywhere you'd like to, the sooner the better. Preferably in the flesh,".

[grendel]

21:08:11 Saturday, 13 January 2063 - outside 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma

"Hillbilly." The way the electronic voice enunciates the name makes the hair on the back of Tony's neck stand up.

"There's a new place that just opened up, north Downtown, called Babylon. One hour. I'll find you."

[bclements]

21:09:15 Saturday, 13 January 2063 - outside 905 West Park Avenue, Tacoma

Fraggin electronic bulldrek Tony thought, trying to pipe down the upsurge of paranoia that hit with Xayide said his name. "I'm sure you will. See you there" he said, still trying to match the emotionless electronic construct voice, and still not quite making it.

Getting a little sick and tired of tis paranoid drek he thought, firing up his car to get out of here. He'd had some pretty hairy times while doing the various things required at this old job, but he'd never felt the kind of insidious paranoia that he felt now. Maybe it was just the lack of the backup that he used to have, maybe just knowing that someone, somewhere knew where he lived, and made him move into the shithole dust-ridden flat he was prepping to be occupied.

And this person probably didn't do any of that. And you need them more than they need you; don't forget that. Pissing off one of Zedya's people wouldn't be helpful at all now, no matter what mood he was in. Get there, have a drink, and act like a pro. You know what you're doing, act like it he repeated to himself like a mantra, moving the car and pointing it toward north Downtown.

[grendel]

21:46:38 Saturday, 13 January 2063 - Babylon, 2220 176th St SW, Seattle, UCAS

Tony whistled softly, stepping to the side of the entrance line for just a moment. He remembered seeing an advert for a new restaurant and nightclub called Babylon about a month ago, but he wasn't expecting anything like this.

Situated in a mixed residential and light commercial area of north Downtown, Babylon was built on the site of an old four story shipping warehouse. The walls of the warehouse were still intact, braced on the inside by construction plastic stanchions since the roof and supporting trusses had been removed to make room for the club itself. The entrance was through one of the old steel loading doors of the warehouse, which kept security neatly outside the club.

Babylon itself was constructed like a classic ziggurat, five individually stepped levels covered in faux sandstone. Point spots on the structure threw their light out onto the interior of the warehouse walls, who's paint varied from gloss black in the front to a dark bronze in the rear. The effect was to cast a diffuse light over the exterior of the club that was brighter from the rear, giving the ziggurat a strange, otherworldly glow.

Inside, the club is as unique as it is outside. The vast core of the ziggurat is open, save for circular steel support members which are camouflaged beneath a drapery of exotic flowering vines. The greenery winds around almost every exposed structural member as well as the purpose built grid of hydroponics pipes that criss-cross the open expanse. Lightstrips throw fans of golden illumination amidst the leaves and fronds, as well as at foot level, providing enough light to see by, but preserving numerous pools of intimate shadows. Ahead, down a short ramp, Tony can see a large dance floor filled with bodies swaying and curving in time to a neo-tribal beat. To his left and right rise stairways to the upper levels, one of which apparently is the bar while the other two are the exclusive restaurant portion of the club.

"Bar it is, then," muttered Tony, unwilling to try and hold a business meeting while shouting over what was sure to be deafening music. Now that he thought about it, though, the reverb from the dance floor was much less than he expected. Most likely a result of careful acoustic design as well as the numerous plants. They would serve to dampen much of the energy.

The second floor bar seemed to be designed to allow as much of a view of the dancers below as possible. The railing was clear sheets of plexiglas, capped by narrow bricks of the same faux sandstone. Again, Tony finds the acoustics well planned, the noise level in the bar just enough to shield a conversation from casual listeners but not enough to have to raise your voice to be heard. An empty table by the railing calls to him, and he takes a seat with his back to the wall and a good view of the stairs. After a minute or two a slim waitress dressed in black slacks and a black dress shirt and tie appears.

"What can I get for you, sir?"

"Whiskey," Tony replies automatically, seeking something to ward off the lingering chill from outside. The blonde dips her head and disappears as quietly and effeciently as she came. She returns minutes later with his drink, the tumbler full of smokey warmth, a vintage that's a cut above what Tony was expecting. Movement at the stairs catches his eye, though, and he sets the glass down before taking a second hit.

Instead of coming from the first floor as he expected, Xayide descends from the restaurant upstairs. She's a slim caucasian woman, dressed in a form-fitting slate gray bodysuit beneath a black longcoat. Her hair is wound behind her into a loose bun, held there by a pair of ornate lacquer chopsticks. As she approaches, Tony realizes that what he at first thought were designer sunglasses are instead full replacement cybereyes, done when monochrome sclera were the fashion. Hers are a deep purple, almost indigo. She sets a glass of something on the table before seating herself across from Tony.

"Creatures kissing in the rain / shapeless in the dark again / in the hanging garden / please don't speak / in the hanging garden / no one sleeps."

[bclements]

21:47:12 Saturday, 13 January 2063 - Babylon, 2220 176th St SW, Seattle, UCAS

Tony almost looked around, wondering if the competent looking women were talking to him. It took him a moment to process the verses that she’d said, and that still didn’t help him formulate a response to what she’d said. The imagery of what she was saying, yes; but the approporate thing to respond with? Probably not.

About that time, Tony remembered what Zedya had told him about this person: ”she's got some idosyncrasies you might find amusing”. Yeah Zedya, amusing. Nice sense of humor you’ve got there. The Babylon itself, as well as the finger of good whiskey, had put him into a better mood, and he was capable of enjoying the humor, even if he thought half of it was going over his head.

“Well, I don’t think anyone down there is sleeping. Don’t think they’re obeying the not speaking part, though. I’m Hillbilly,” Tony said, offering his hand.

[grendel]

23:09:41 Wednesday, 10 January 2063 - East Tacoma, UCAS

"Right, the talismonger. Give me an hour or two and I should have something for you."

Flipper closes the line, leaving Litany once more alone with her thoughts and the hiss of the winter wind.

[grendel]

21:47:39 Saturday, 13 January 2063 - Babylon, 2220 176th St SW, Seattle, UCAS

Xayide sips from her drink instead of taking Tony's offered hand, though nothing in her body language betrayed an opinion on the gesture. Her voice, fuller and softer than over the phone, still manages to be blandly neutral.

"What are the specifics of the operation?"

[bclements]

21:48:19 Saturday, 13 January 2063 - Babylon, 2220 176th St SW, Seattle, UCAS

All business. Well, so much for the getting to know you part of this... Tony thought, withdrawing his hand. He wasn't insulted by the gesture; and while he did wish for a little more personality, as long as Xayide got her job done he didn't really care. Hopefully, after laying low awhile the Hillbilly name he was using didn't carry too much baggage.

"Breaking, entering, and a little distruction," Tony drawled, after a small mouthful of whiskey. "I'll need your help with the breaking and possibly the entering part depending upon how secured the interior is. Target," he continued, pulling out the datapad the Johnson had given him the night before, "is a clinic in Tacoma," Tony said, sliding the pad across the table over to Xayide.

[grendel]

21:51:27 Saturday, 13 January 2063 - Babylon, 2220 176th St SW, Seattle, UCAS

Xayide sips from her drink again as she reviews the files provided by Tony.

"Just you and I?" she asks, nodding to herself at Tony's affirmitive. She glances up at him, weighing him for a moment, before dropping the datapad back on the table.

"Two thousand. Half up front. We're done once we're out of the facility."

[bclements]

21:52:45 Saturday, 13 January 2063 - Babylon, 2220 176th St SW, Seattle, UCAS

"Agreed," Tony said, withdrawing a credstick and passing it across the table amid the muted thumping of the dance floor, sliding it next to the datapad. "So far, the target looks dead; let's hope it stays that way. Maglocked and keypaded doors at this and this location," Tony said, leaning forward and tapping the map to indicate a position, "fire door here. Cold looks like it'll keep anyone not directly interested away," he continued. It felt good to be back planning something like this, though he usually had had more resouces and time to do so. Gotta make do, or do without he thought, settling down in his seat once again.

"Time should be early Monday morning, depending. Got something I can contact you on?" Tony drawled, swirling his whiskey around in the bottom of the tumbler. "Also, you any good at information searches? May have some more for you if you are."

[Morgannah]

11:36:25 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

There were few occasions when Cosmo bothered to dress in the unofficial 'uniform' of the professional runner but after several hours to consider her situation, she determined that it would be foolish to expect that the Kald, or whomever was giving them orders, would truly let her walk away after her last 'tasking.' If there were indeed six of them to complete. The hours she'd spent asleep were far from restful.

Her smile was fixed beneath softly applied cosmetics, eyes glittering behind tinted designer glasses. A long electric blue silk scarf offset the harsh lines of her Actioneer suit and if the Hammerli tucked in against the curve of her hip flew in the face of Etiquette, she did not seem to mind. A roll of bills flickered between her fingers and into the palm of a heavyset man by the door and as if by magic, he didn't seem to mind the sidearm either. Cosmo looked him over and raised an eyebrow, questioning, but continued into the restaurant without waiting for an answer; there was no point in seeming too interested, even if it would be a poor substitute for the sort of game she preferred.

How long until the Kald decided to cut her out of their own game?

She lowered her lashes and surveyed the restaurant proper, curious to catch a glimpse of her 'employer' or someone that might direct her to the proper table.

[grendel]

21:53:03 Saturday, 13 January 2063 - Babylon, 2220 176th St SW, Seattle, UCAS

"My LTG number." Xayide offers the alphanumeric string in an electronic handoff. The credstick disappears into one of her pockets.

"Monday morning works for me. I don't do online searches. My talents lie here, in the physical realm." She spreads her hand on the table as if to reassure her of its existance.

"Anything else?"

[grendel]

11:41:33 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Los Angeles, CFS

Motown grunted in disappointment, handing over a hundred nuyen credstick to Wash.

"Slitch is getting sloppy. They never would have come here in broad daylight."

The hacker shrugged, tucking his winnings away.

"You forget she's operating without our support structure. She doesn't have a choice."

Warrick's voice cut in over the line.

"One, Actual, any sign of the CARAT team?"

"Negative, Actual. I don't think they've picked up on the restaurant as her location orbit."

"Copy, standby to move."

[grendel]

11:59:55 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo resisted the urge to tap her perfectly manicured nails on the black plastic tabletop. She was still nursing her first drink, not wanting to impede her decision making abilities or reactions in any way. She still hadn't seen any sign of either her contact or of Scrye. The ornate water clock behind the bar was clearly visible, and she conceded with a angry invisible grimace that her contact's penchant for precision meant they probably wouldn't show until exactly noon.

Which is almost precisely what happened.

Kald entered with a pair of bodyguards, looking remarkably similar to the last time she'd seen him. It was the child who'd greeted her after her initial job. He climbed into the chair opposite her and slid a black plastic folder across the table.

"Due to operational constraints, both of your final taskings are present. Complete them in order. A final meeting location has been provided as well. It's purpose will be clear once you have accomplished your last tasking."

[Morgannah]

12:00:27 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

One slim eyebrow lifted ever so slightly. There hadn't been any emphasis on one word over the others, but the 'final meeting location' sounded ominous considering her earlier train of thought. More than that, the boy was the first Kald she'd met but didn't seem to recognize her. At all. Was it hubris to expect everyone she'd spoken with to remember her?

No. It's definitely the same boy and none of the cues are there. Acting like this takes serious training.

Cosmo took it all in, considering each point in relation to what she had learned so far. The boy was speaking on his own, a planned opening speech but not memorized .. or programmed. The bodyguards were professionally disinterested but reminiscent of the guards she'd seen in earlier dealings. If slightly better dressed. She almost smirked. Did the taskings have to be completed in sequence? That would explain why a meeting wasn't possible in the interim.

"And contract negotiation," she began, casually opening the binder to see exactly how she'd be spending the next day or two. "I trust there will be someone I can speak with when these 'taskings' are out of the way?"

[grendel]

12:01:03 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Kald tips his head to the side.

"Of course. We were under the impression, though, that you resented your taskings and would not be seeking further employment with us once your initial obligation was complete?"