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

[grendel]

12:45:00 Monday January 8, 2063 - Northbound on the 405 in Erebus' Car, Seattle, UCAS

Sybersnake shivers as she lifts herself from VR, reflexively glancing around at the traffic. Dragon and Erebus sit silently in the front of the vehicle, eyes searching restlessly for any signs of pursuit or surveillance. With a careless gesture, she dumps all of her info to their commlinks.

"It's an old corporate airfield, mostly abandoned now and used by a private flying club. Location is north forty seven degrees fifty four point four nine minutes, west one twenty two degrees six point three two minutes, elevation of five meters. I've included a satellite image of the location. I know Aztechnology maintains a logistics point at one of the hangars there in support of some of their deniable assets. The airfield hours are from 0800 until 2000, but only the base operations building is open to the public, you have to be registered with the airfield to have access to the tarmac."

[WinterRat1]

13:00:03 Thursday, 11 January 2063, Tashirocaplan Artist Lofts, 115 Prefontaine Pl S, Seattle

The question hung in the air awhile, like stale smoke at a broken down diner of last resort. Finally Aidan said, "From what I saw last night, at the very least, he's got a serious hard-on for Kat. Whether he's willing to take it any farther than just stalking her...hell, I don't know. Why don't we just call the cops on this anyway? I mean, we're not criminals, we're not SINless, this isn't a runner sim, this is real life! I mean, that's what the Star is for, right? Protecting innocent people from the bad guys!"

Razor smirks and rolls his eyes, but Aidan continues, pointedly ignoring his friend. "I'm serious! Have we even tried to call the cops? At the least, having a complaint on record couldn't hurt us, right? What do you think Lana? Why don't we just leave this one to the pros? Or at least, why don't we try that first?"

[WinterRat1]

12:45:49 Monday January 8, 2063 - Northbound on the 405 in Erebus' Car, Seattle, UCAS

Accessing the mapsoft of Seattle he had chipped, Dragon took a few moments to find the location Sybersnake provided and flag its location. He'd want more research done on the terrain and geographical features of the airport, but that could wait for the moment.

"Did you get any information on either the airport's or Aztechnology's expected security? What about any details on Aztechnology's logistics point? Are we talking about nothing more than a glorified private travel planning center, or are there any potential complications there?"

[Cedric Rolfsson]

12:45:49 Monday January 8, 2063 - Northbound 405, Seattle

Erebus called up a map of the area on his P-sec, looking at target location in terms of both ingress and egress since he had no intention of getting caught in a pitched battle with Azzie goons.

Only one main road into the airport, the river to the north, no easy approaches, just freaking perfect. Well, if we egress to the north we can get into crowded streets and cross streets for evasion pretty quickly, that's a plus.

"Doesn't look like the kind of place I'd like to hit standing up, too easy to have a MMG tucked away out of sight aimed at the gates. What do we know of this private flying club? Anyway we could get access through them?"

[DireRadiant]

14:22:47 Thursday, 11 January 2063 - Outside the Raincrest Apartments, East Tacoma, UCAS

The purgatorial grey surroundings didn't impinge on the bright colors of the virtual tour she'd just run through. It just made a grey border around the image feed she'd just moved through. The apartment layout probably wasn't dissimilar to the targets, but to get a good feel, nothing like actually bumping into walls, not matter how good they claimed the latest sim technology could make you feel, she made a reservation for a tour of one of the neighboring complexes units. She might need a hidey hole in some future anyway, it wasn't a bad idea to multi task.

Time now for some patience and making sure she didn't stand out while she familiarized herself with the area.

[Scrapheap]

01:00:08 Wednesday, 10 January, 2063 - A Warehouse in the Barrens

Ignoring Alleycat's question for the moment, John stepped closer to the railing to see how the battle was evolving. A quick glance was all he had time for as he was forced to duck away from a stray shot that ricocheted nearby. He quickly ran his eyes around the second level too, before settling on the woman next to him. She returned his gaze steadily, her expression a mixture of excitement, anticipation, and determination. He couldn't begin to guess her exact thoughts, but knew he wouldn't like them if he could.

He frowned and shook his head. "No; no fraggin' way. Spell or no, I got no fraggin' way to contact him or any of them other fraggers down there. Do you?" Not waiting for an answer, he went on. "'Sides, unless we move and now we're gonna get pinched between all those bogies headin' our way."

He nodded towards two men advancing on the small group's position. They were heading across the northern most catwalks, towards the Northeast stairwell. "Those two are gonna block off our retreat if we don't move. I can lay down some cover if you can get them," another nod at Lady Dove and Nora, "down the stairs. I'll be right behind."

[Sedna]

01:00:08 Wednesday, 10 January, 2063 - A Warehouse in the Barrens

At once Alleycat lowered her eyes, dark midnight eyes that pulled a pale blue colournessness into her dirty skin and made her look even smaller and thinner than she was. Woman? Young, certainly. Scarcely more than a girl. She couldn't be much older than Nora.

She'd already shoved the scrounged katana behind her back, tight along her side where its profile wouldn't stand out against the sky. Her other hand held one of the swordsman's grenades. No sign of a gun on her, anywhere -- couldn't be, given that she'd even scrounged the armour she was wearing. She glanced at Scrapheap again, a sweeping glance that also took in the stairwell and those moving toward them. No fear in her -- but also no anticipation, no spark. Determination? Maybe, but it was almost lost in the shadow of ancient pain.

She smiled, a bit sadly. "I'll be right back," she said quietly, almost gently, before disappearing into the cloud of grenade smoke.

[Sedna]

01:00:09 Wednesday, 10 January, 2063 - A Warehouse in the Barrens

Disappeared, dropped, using the rain and the smoke and the cold metal of the catwalk itself to disguise her body heat. Senses on razor edge. Even her breath paused, everything in her tuned to her environment. Part of her mind began silently timing the swing of the ropes against the catwalk. If this didn't work, it was entirely possible she'd have to use them in a hurry.

Before she broke through the cover of the smoke cloud she stopped, the grenade loose in her other hand. If she had this right --

Cried out, in a whipcrack voice: "Jump down -- kill that mage!"

And let the armed grenade in her other hand drop from the catwalk.

[grendel]

12:48:06 Monday January 8, 2063 - Northbound on the 405 in Erebus' Car, Seattle, UCAS

As the vehicle hisses northward through the lunch-hour traffic, Dragon glances at Sybersnake in the rearview mirror. For all that an hour before she realized that her son had been kidnapped, she appeared more relaxed than he'd seen her in a long time. The familiar question and answer briefing was drawing out her operational personality, subsuming beneath it all of the worries and concerns which would cripple the conscious mind in a crisis situation. Data spills over onto his commlink; text and diagrams provided in response to his and Erebus' questions.

"The airport security is provided by Lone Star, with a minimal staff on hand of four. They're backed up by pretty hefty technology, though: camera surveillance of the terminal as well as of the airport itself, along with ground radar surveillance for aircraft tracking. That'll be easier to bypass but it's got a velocity gate that'll trip for a running (meta)human. Weapons will be standard light Lone Star loadout, but heavy backup is only a phone call away. Aztechnology will have a staff of eight on hand, all of which will be security trained but will try and maintain a low profile if possible. They'll have their own surveillance and counter-intrusion measures surrounding their hangar. Flying club membership usually takes between a week to ten days to authorize, but I can try and get us ID through less than legal means. The only drawback is that it will take me between two and three hours to accomplish."

[Vegas]

13:02:39 Thursday, 11 January 2063, Tashirocaplan Artist Lofts, 115 Prefontaine Pl S, Seattle

“It’s not my call. I mean if you want the cops involved Kat,� her gaze shifted to the leggy blonde, “You have to decide to do it. I mean you might have an “in� with the cops who are investigating the fire at the apartment, but I want to give them as wide a berth as possible to do their jobs.�

She started to say more and then stopped and shook her head.

“Remember guys, I might have a SIN, but I’m still underage as far as legalities go. I don’t want to be on the next flight to Moscow until all this crap gets straightened out with the apartment… and with Niki.�

She blinked a few times and tried to keep the tears in check behind her lashes as she cleared her throat.

“So like I was saying, it’s up to Kat if we get the cops involved. If you want to put a no contact order or whatever on the guy, go for it. But really I doubt the cops are gonna follow you around and protect you unless he actually tries something physical. Might not hurt to discreetly try to dig up what we can on this guy. Treat it like one of the runner sims, I mean he might have some dark secret out there that we could use for leverage to get him to leave Kat alone.�

Her idea sounded just like an episode of “Night City� from last season, but seeing how no one else was tossing out ideas beyond going to the cops, it didn’t seem so outrageous.

[WinterRat1]

13:03:16 Thursday, 11 January 2063, Tashirocaplan Artist Lofts, 115 Prefontaine Pl S, Seattle

Razor snorts. "The only problem is, this ain't a runner sim Lana. How the hell are we supposed to get dirt on this guy in the first place? I agree going to the cops probably won't do us much good, but I wouldn't bank on getting dirt on the guy either. If you ask me, the real problem is is this guy Connected, or is he not? If he's connected the cops won't help us and he'll probably just geek us if we try to blackmail him. If he's not connected, then just curb stomping him should solve the problem."

[Cthulhu449]

21:05:01 Wednesday, 10 January 2063- The Sundowner Tavern, 14640 58th Ave S. Seattle, UCAS

Leo nodded, not disagreeing with anything Roderick had to say. “Your place is fine; I’m not getting the impression that a secondary site will be necessary and I trust your abilities are worth what I and your harriers are being paid,� He let his arms clank down onto the counter top and leaned his weight upon them, looking over at the homeless man as he continued to speak, acknowledging the attention of the patron with a long glance of his own.

“You’re going to know what feels out of place in your life better than I will, so don’t hesitate to inform me of the slightest disparity even if it seems inconsequential. For now let’s use the rest of the night to secure your home. I want to get to know the area as well as you.� Leo gestured with his tilt of his head and Roderick stood up from his seat slowly like a kid who didn’t want to get off a park ride quite yet. “Yeah, sure, my car is out front,� he said, still obviously not thrilled with the whole idea.

“If you have a safe house or want a rat motel that’s fine too; like I said, whatever you are comfortable with,� Leo said, running a hand through his hair while pushing the glass door open with his hip. He stayed close enough to Roderick that he could react in case anything seemed out of place on the street, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness in the recess of the door before accepting that everything seemed clear. The air outside shot needles across his face, even through the newly trimmed beard which seemed to frost immediately upon his exit, and everywhere the sounds of the city echoed with the somber clarity of a winter night.

Roderick’s vehicle was parked on the far corner, an older gas burner that might be considered a “muscle� car if it weren’t a bit past its prime. The color was faded from black to a lazy gray and some of the chrome near the bottom of the car had rusted out, but it still looked fast, and Leo almost laughed because the whole thing fit its owner so damn well. They both slipped into the car, having to do the limbo and use the roof for leverage to slide inside as the car rested so low to the ground. The mage grabbed the wheel and the engine purred to life, the internal computer recognizing the owner through the bioreader set in the faux-leather steering column.

“Wherever you want,� Leo said as the car pulled away from the curb and rolled out into the light, night traffic.

[bclements]

21:05:17 Wednesday, 10 January 2063- Leaving The Sundowner Tavern, 14640 58th Ave S. Seattle, UCAS

Leo rode along as Roderick drove sedately though the south Downtown area, chilled at first from the almost frozen synthleather seats until the engine warmed up enough to pump out enough lukewarm air to warm up the cabin enough so that breath wasn’t visable.

The ride itself was quiet, light jostling and creaking from the (apparently original, Leo thought) suspension going over the ice ruts provided counterpoint to the J-pop music that Roderick had on. Neither one of them seemed interested in conversation: Leo was looking for possible tails and taking in the lay of the land, and Roderick was concentrating on trying to drive an old Chrysler-Nissan ZM through ruts in the streets that hadn’t seen snow like this since the 30’s. Twice they spun out coming around a corner too fast; Leo cursed lightly in Russian under his breath, thankful that the streets were mostly empty, Roderick spinning the wheel one way, then the other. At least he’s not hitting the brakes Leo thought, as they spun out, found traction, and slowly climbed up the onramp to the 5.

22:30:17 Wednesday, 10 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave Apt 4N, Downtown, Seattle, UCAS
“Make yourself at home,� Roderick said after Leo entered the apartment. The building itself, refurbished not quite 20 years ago in beige stucco-looking plastic panels but looked to be much older on inspection, had at least three points of ingress that Leo marked, all keycard protected in addition to its 10 medium and large apartments for rent. The doors themselves didn’t look like much, though, he appraised, but the neighborhood just north of the International District didn’t look like it had much in the way of door breakers. The wide but dimly lit interior halls had a central elevator, with stairwells on each end, and cameras covered the entrances.

Must be nice living up here, he thought, looking around at the well-furnished corner apartment interior. A large, newish Novatech Zephyr telecom unit dominated the far end of the 5 meter square living room. An overstuffed sofa sat opposite it, close to the door. A couple of armchairs flanked the walls, with a real wood or good-fake enough to look it low table sat. Various plants in simple plastic pots lined the walls in between, resting on saucers on the polished bamboo floor. Leo walked over and shut the curtains on windows facing north and east, more out of protective cliche than any real worry at this point.

A simple but equally well furnished galley kitchen lay though a doorway across the living room from the entrance. A hallway to the left at the end of the living room led off to a large, simply furnished bedroom, a bathroom, and a larger, empty floored room. “My study,� {b]Roderick[/b] said when Leo asked him.

“You can stay on the couch if you want. I’m not expecting too much trouble anyway, but I’ve got two watchers that I can call up if you’d prefer,� Roderick naseled out.

[Slipshade]

01:00:09 Wednesday, 10 January, 2063 - A Warehouse in the Barrens

Max continued to stumble to what he hoped was freedom. The warehouse was thick with smoke and sounds. He often caught glimpses of swirling color through the distortion that was the wharehouse's spirit realm. It was like heat rising off of the desert floor, tugging at his vision. Pain still burned in his arm as he staggered towards the two auras standing guard over his escape. Even in the hazy wasteland of conflict, the warm, almost sunny glow of the huge troll's aura was easy to see.

'I think the fragger's actually enjoying himself.' he thought bitterly and threw himself to the floor when he saw the troll swing a large weapon in his direction, seeking a new target. It was slow going, but he knew even though he couldn't be seen, a stay bullet could make him just as dead as one aimed.

[Vegas]

13:04:25 Thursday, 11 January 2063, Tashirocaplan Artist Lofts, 115 Prefontaine Pl S, Seattle

“Ok bigshot, how do you propose finding out if this guy is connected and manage to keep our asses out of the fire in the process? If he is connected like you mentioned earlier he’s not going to appreciate us poking around in his shit, nor will the cops help us. It’s not like I’ve got someone in my pocket who can dig up the dirt for us. Unless any of you have someone we can get to do the inquiry for us, it falls back on our shoulders to start asking around.�

She stared at Razor and waited for him to say anything and when he didn’t pipe in right away she continued.

“I mean if you’re just gonna sit there and shoot down all the ideas for this reason or another then what the hell’s the point of trying to think of a solution, why don’t we just throw Kat to the proverbial wolf then already.� She rolled her eyes slightly and the sarcasm dripping from her words was tangible.

[Cthulhu449]

22:39:17 Wednesday, 10 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave Apt 4N, Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Leo dropped his duffle on the floor and set his gun on the coffee table before taking a seat on the sofa. He tested the cushioning with a few experimental bounces that didn’t really translate to any sort of meaningful sensation through the sythskin, metals, and high-stress plastics of his lower body. Sleeping on concrete would have been just as pleasing, a thought that made Leo a bit angry even after all these years; he had learned some time ago that a lack of discomfort did not necessarily imply contentment.

“So what do you say, some spirits or not?� Roderick had poured himself some cereal and spoke through a mouth full of soy flakes, guaranteed by the dragon on the box to “fuel your astral spirit while fueling your body.� “They’re pretty fraggin’ easy, I can just whip some up here, no problem,� he said, bits of “astral fuel� spattering out of his mouth.

“Whatever, just keep them away from me,� Leo answered, “I don’t like the things very much,�

“Heh, can’t say I blame you, they sure can be annoying, some of ‘em always chattering away, like a toddler on novacoke,�

Leo wasn’t looking over at the mage, having switched on the TV to scan the channels, but he had to turn and raise his eyebrows at that particular simile.

“You know what I mean,� Roderick smiled, tossing his bowl into the sink with a frisbee flick of the wrist. He must have reconsidered the toss just a bit too late, trying to grab his own throw out of the air with a gasp, as the dish clattered into other dishes at the bottom of the metal basin, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of glass shattering.

“Drek, drek, drek. Frag this nonsense. Who the hell would leave all this drek in the sink?� Roderick strung together some other, more creative expletives as he sifted through the damage of the errant toss.

Meanwhile, Leo had found an Azzie channel running an old soccer game. Stats scrolled across the bottom from earlier tournament games, and the channel even offered some datalink, optical-display simulcasts to compliment the onscreen action, but he didn’t want to be too focused on anything but his surroundings while on duty. After a time the clattering behind him ceased and Roderick spoke up one more time.

“Done. I set them to prowl the perimeter, null sheen,� he said, and Leo couldn’t help the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. “I’m gonna get 40 winks, if you need me fire off a full clip, no less; otherwise I’ll assume you’ve got it handled,�

Leo watched the game and a next one for a few hours, wondering how many times prowling astral signatures were passing through his body, before he trailed off into a light sleep that lasted the rest of the night.

[Mister Juan]

08:39:04 Sunday 14, January 2063 – “The Bakery�, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

Without a thank, a nod, and even less a word, Ludmilla left the room. As she walked down the narrow corridor, away from Sacha and his goons, she wondered why she hadn't asked for more cred then she actually needed. It wasn't that she was particularly in need of the cash... After last night's job, she would be able to cover both the rent and all daily expenses for the month. But just getting back to the mobster in some way would have made her day.

Closing the car's door, the Russian woman rubbed her hands together, warming them up before fishing out her pack of smokes and lighting one with a sigh. She still hadn't gotten word from Zeyda concerning the hardware she was missing. He had said Monday, but then again, these sorts of delivery weren't always spot on. Zeyda's usually were... but you never knew for sure.

She took a long drag in, pulling in the smoke deep into her lungs; feeling it burn and itch all over. She had to go to the workshop to complete what she could of the bugs, do some grocery shopping, get some info on the restaurant... and get in touch with Miki. She hadn't seen him in over a week. She craved for his touch; for the sound of his voice in her ear; for his lips on her neck.

Cracking her window open as she fired up the engine, Ludi exhaled out her own fumes as the car started forward down the street.

[Mister Juan]

13:11:29 Sunday 14, January 2063 - Ludmilla's Workshop, Everett, Seattle, UCAS

Her knuckles now practically numb, she punched the heavy bag once more. Even with the protective wrapping around her hands, she would have bruises for some days. But Ludmilla didn't care. She didn't care at all. It was her way of venting out all her bottled in anger. She could have gone straight home from the bakery. She could have gone and seen Lana; spend time with her; crawl into her imaginary world and play her games with her. But the Russian fighter knew one thing perfectly; when it came to her daughter, she was a total coward. There was simply no way she could see her today and then abandon her again to go about her own business. She was a coward, through and through. It was so much easier to simply box herself into the little workshop. She ducked to the side, avoiding some imaginary blow from a fictitious opponent, before letting go a flurry of her own blows.

As soon as she had gotten to the workshop, she had placed a quick call to Zeyda; all polite, all proper and as casual sounding as possible. She knew very well he had said he'd comm her when he had the stuff... but with the job getting closer and closer, Ludmilla was starting to get a little anxious. She had even gone as far as call Miki, but after two rings, she had hung up. What was she going to say anything. Hello? I miss you? It would have sounded so childish. There must have been reasons why he hadn't called her.... he must have been busy...

Letting her hands fall to her side, she exhaled deeply. Her black form forming tank top was soaked with sweat, and she could feel more stick her short black hair to her neck. She shook her arms, trying to dissipate the cramps that were already building up. Her body felt tired and beaten, but she felt good. After getting to the workshop, she had finished the bugs, and fired up her computer. From there, she had programmed the encryption program and let the terminal do the rest. It was long, really long... and so instead of just sitting there and looking at it, she had picked up on her training. The past few days had kept her way too busy to squeeze in any training. She had done some running yesterday, but that was pretty much it. He body needed to be in top shape. It need to be efficient. It was the only thing she could rely on when on the job.

As she tore the tape off, she sat on a small mat that covered part of the floor and began to stretch herself in slow and precise motion. Ludi had never been really keen on gymnastic or any other form of “graceful� exercising. Those kinds of things were for those rich women who wanted to burn down their fat asses. But after finding herself dropped into more and more discreet ops and bugging jobs, she had picked up a few moves. They always came in handy when scaling things; when leaping here and there.

15:01:11 Sunday 14, January 2063 - Ludmilla's Workshop, Everett, Seattle, UCAS

As she neared her last crunch, Ludmilla heard the computer beep from the other side of the room. It had either finished compiling the encryption software for the bugs... or it had totally crashed. Pushing herself up with a grunt, she hopped it wasn't the later.

[Cthulhu449]

09:00:00 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave Apt 4N, Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

“Rrrroar,�

Leo’s eyes cracked open, reverie interrupted by a droning, low grade recording coming from somewhere in the dim living room. The apartment was lit by the blooming haze of sunlight filtered through shuttered windows, perfect ambiance for the withdrawal headache that thumped between his temples.

“Don’t be groggy! Get your astral spirit burning with a quality breakfast!�

Rolling his head to the side, Leo could see a low quality, laser-light projection of a dragon on the far wall, emanating from the cereal box on the kitchen counter. The two frame animation tried to imply a bellowing growl, but came off more like a fish gasping for breath.

“Groggy,� he thought to himself. “You have got to be kidding me,� he said aloud.

A few more pun filled advertisements and Leo was forced to get up and shake the box until it stopped talking, the short walk doubling the ache in his head and mixing nausea into the equation. Relieved of one annoyance, he searched the cabinets to cure the other, finally retrieving a bottle of wine from one of the wooden cabinets that he poured for himself in a plain drinking glass. Wine wasn’t ever his first choice, but it was all he could find, and a few quick swigs did manage take the edge off.

“Yeah, that’s my best, uh, before breakfast wine you’ve got there, glad you like it,� Roderick said, emerging from his bedroom scratching at his paunch through a graying nightshirt. His voice had a mix of sarcasm and disbelief that Leo immediately decided he didn’t like. Still, a part of Leo knew the mage had a point, and so he merely glowered back from behind another draught of wine.

“Anyway I’ve got some plans for today, so I assume you’ll want to tag along,� Roderick continued, performing his own search of the cabinets before settling for handfuls of soy flakes pulled directly from the dragon-faced box.

“I’m listening,� Leo answered, ready to be pulled along for the time being as long as the ideas were within certain reasonable standards.

[grendel]

15:01:43 Sunday 14, January 2063 - Ludmilla's Workshop, Everett, Seattle, UCAS

When she reached the terminal, still mopping the sweat from her head with one of the shop rags, she discovered it was neither. Rather, a message from Zeyda waited in her inbox.

[Mister Juan]

15:01:50 Sunday 14, January 2063 - Ludmilla's Workshop, Everett, Seattle, UCAS

Relieved was too little of a word. Ludmilla felt as if a huge burden had just been lifted off her shoulders. Her original plan was to case the whole place tomorrow, pre-slice herself a way in tomorrow during the day, and come back at night to plant the bugs. But now, with all the gear, odds were she could probably install a few ones while doing her recon.

The small reader in the corner of her eye still flared early enough in the day so that she could go and case the joint, but at least now, she wouldn't be so nervous about the whole affair. After all, maybe this would turn out to be an easy job. If she fared well enough, maybe Sascha would leave her the frag alone. Or at least, have his attention on something else long enough for Ludi to get her hands on a long rifle.

Cocking her head to the side, she brought a her pack of cigarette to her mouth where she fished one out with the tips of her lips. She rolled the small tube from one corner of her mouth to the other, trying to make her mind up. It was still early enough for her to go home and spend some time with Lana.

[Scrapheap]

01:00:09 Wednesday, 10 January, 2063 - A Warehouse in the Barrens

"I'll be right back."

Scrapheap opened his mouth, but before he could reply the slim girl ran past him into the smoke, katana held tightly against her oversized jacket. "What tha frag," he mumbled to himself. He knew she wasn't running away; there were two other fraggers in that smoke.

He shook his head. Crazy girl. Reminds me o' some tha crazy drek Floyd Redfeather used ta pull. Never knew what that fragger was thinkin' either. Hope it works, whatever "it" fraggin' is.

Snugging the Ingram's stock against his shoulder, the old runner turned back to the task at hand. A quick glance toward their exit showed two gunmen advancing across the catwalks. He began to walk back towards Lady Dove and Nora. He motioned towards his niece, hoping she would take the hint and crouch like the older woman. He barked, "Get down, an' stay down!"

Turning away, Scrapheap brought the battered SMG up and took aim. The smartlink display blazed across his vision, showing the Ingram as being set to "burst" and having a full load. As soon as the smartlink cross-hairs had locked on the nearest target he let out a breath and squeezed the trigger.

[bclements]

09:15:12 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave Apt 4N, Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

“Well, I’m supposed to do some job stuff at,� Roderick scratched the thinning hair on the side of his head and looked around the living room for his commlink; coming up with it after digging in the cushions of one of the chairs. Leo tried not to roll his eyes in the meantime.

“Uh, at 1300 or so. We’ll need to run up by the dockyards over in Tacoma for that, meet up with Izir and the rest afterwards at around 1400 or so around there,� he added around a mouthful of sweetened soy-cereal. “Also,� *crunch* *crunch*�I need to run a few little errands; pick up some food, and I guess some more wine,� he said, noting that Leo had powered through half the bottle.

“Other than that, just some study time. You got anything you need to do? I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself if so,� he added.

[WinterRat1]

13:05:03 Thursday, 11 January 2063, Tashirocaplan Artist Lofts, 115 Prefontaine Pl S, Seattle

Undaunted by Lana's sarcasm, Razor fires back, "Look, I never said anything about throwing Kat to the wolves. I just said that digging up dirt on people is harder than it looks on the trid. If you want to toss that idea out there, fine, I'm not sayin' it's a bad idea, just I'd sure as frag like to know how we can get started with that without bringing the hammer down on ourselves in the process."

[Mister Juan]

20:41:34 Sunday, 14 January 2063-Miner's Landing, Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Throwing her cigarette out the half opened window, Ludmilla leaned over to get a better look at herself in the rear view mirror. Her last meeting with Zeyda had gone a little awry, and ever since then, she had been slightly ashamed of how she had behaved. Sure, right on the spot, she had been pissed off and felt justified for her behavior... but after running the thing in her mind a few times, the young mother had finally come to a conclusion: she had been very “unprofessional�. And so, for this second meeting, she had decided to at least clean herself up a bit.

After leaving the shop, she had gone straight home, and spent what little of the day was left with Lana. It was still way too cold outside, and the weather was still like drek, so her options had been cut rather short. They had gone out to some fast food joint... one of those with the whole interior playground thing. Ludi had felt awkward all afternoon, as Lana made new friends amongst the local child fauna. Dozen of mothers were there with their little noisy and spoiled brats. Some were there with the husbands.

It only made her realized even more how much she missed Miki. She had almost called him, again, later in the day, but had stopped herself. Somehow, she felt terribly guilty about sneaking around behind his back, taking a shady job from his underling... a job he probably wasn't even aware of. Ludmilla still wasn't sure how she would go about it... but he would know. She would make sure he'd know of Sascha's little operation. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she lied to him. The constant facade she had to put up for the sake of her daughter was already draining enough.

As she sipped her lukewarm soda, keeping a watchful eye on Lana, Ludi felt out of her element. As much as she wanted to be a mother... as much as she wanted to be a good mother.... as much as she loved Lana.... she couldn't wrap her head around it all. The cooking, the homework, setting a good example. Even though she thanked God each day for bringing Lana in her life, she couldn't help but also curse him. Lana was so young. So innocent. She was so good. She didn't deserve an aweful mother like herself. She didn't deserve a mother who killed people.

Looking down at herself, still seated in her compact car, Ludmilla fixed her clothes a bit. The hint of makeup on her face was very subtle; just enough to highlight some of her features. Her short black hair, on the other hand, showed a little more work; after all, fixing hair up had been, and still was, one of her day jobs. As for her clothes, she had taken out her only business suit. A custom fit, two piece long skirt and jacket, of a corporate looking dark gray, with a subtle interior lining of ballistic protection.

She had gotten it a few years ago, when she had pulled a bodyguard detail for some Vory boss “visiting� in Seattle. It had been one of the first jobs Miki had gotten her. He had also been the one who had bought her the outfit. No matter how much she hated dressing up in such a “serious� manner, she couldn't help herself but agree that she looked somewhat good in it. It was just tight enough to show her clean cut silhouette, but still loose enough to allow her to move freely and quickly. The skirt, which stopped only a few inches about her ankles, had a subtle slit running up it's right side, which flashed on her long and well defined legs from times to times. In the suit, Ludmilla actually looked like a woman.

Buttoning up the jacket slightly, she slipped out of the car, and into the cold street. She somewhat hoped that she wasn't over doing it... In her mind, being professional wasn't just acting in that way, it was also dressing in that way.

The only itch with her whole attire was her shoe ware. Ludmilla wasn't the kind of woman to own “women's shoes�. At the bottom of her expensive, custom fit business suit, she still wore her heavy combat boots. At least, she still had an edge to her look. And that wasn't counting on the Ares Predator stuck inside the suit's concealable holster.

Tugging her shoulders as close to her neck as possible, Ludmilla walked in a hurried pace the few blocks that separated her from the Miner's Landing. She would have preferred taking the bike on such an outing, but she had left it at the shop. There was just no way she could carry all the gear she needed for tomorrow's undercover work inside her bike's seat. That, and her car would just fit better with the general scenery in Auburn.

Nearing the Miner's entrance, she wasn't surprised to find the outside, as well as lobby, pretty darn crowded. After all, it was Sunday night, and every respectable metabeing had to be out somewhere. Only losers spent Sunday's home alone. Gently pushing her way past waiting patrons (gently being something rather unusual for Ludi), the young russian woman went straight past the maitre d' and up towards the stairs that led to the bar.