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

[grendel]

00:22:31 Thursday 11 January 2063 - Los Angeles, CFS

A rare smile flashed across his face, invisible in the darkness of the night surrounding the apartment.

"You and I both know there's no such thing as certain in this business."

He paused, knowing that it was an unsecure line, knowing that he was in the middle of an operation, and knowing that suddenly those things seemed to matter less than the did before he met her.

"How are you?" he settled for, not minding the ordinary sounding question, because the context behind it spoke volumes.

[Morgannah]

00:22:50 Thursday 11 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

The seemingly innocuous question warmed her. She found herself leaning, rather than straining against the cool wall.

"Busy. We're about week away from closing a major deal," and my nerves are shot. "No sign of the competition yet, thank goodness."

[grendel]

00:23:02 Thursday 11 January 2063 - Los Angeles, CFS

Caska nodded to himself, relieved although he knew enough about her that he suspected this call only occured because she'd maneuvered into some breathing space. A wry grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as he formulated his reply.

"That's good news. Do you think you'll be cashing that check I sent you anytime soon?"

[Morgannah]

00:23:15 Thursday 11 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

Wanting to answer with a simple "yes!" more than anything, Cosmo knew that she was in no position to be making dates. For now.

"Soon enough. I'll have to stay flexible for a while longer," she smiled, remembering a night not too long ago ... "but all signs point to a bit of downtime in the very near future."

[grendel]

00:23:33 Thursday 11 January 2063 - Los Angeles, CFS

"That's good, I won't have enough funds in the account to cover it until Monday," he replied, keeping his tone to casual banter.

"I'll expect your call then?"

[Cthulhu449]

01:47:44 Thursday, 11 January 2063-1878 N. Boylston Ave., Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

Leo continued to bristle as the conversation carried on its dangerous course. As expected the words were getting stronger, the threats less implicit, and it was going to be a delicate balancing act to prevent bodily harm to the wilting mage in negotiations. Indignation and revenge would have to wait, for Roderick's safety, as difficult as both were to suppress.

Through this haze of thoughts and bitterness, a minute motion at the window caught Leo's eye. A micro-drone had affixed itself to the exterior, small antenna panning for signal, while a companion miniblimp hovered at a greater distance, dish pointed at the apartment. The certainty that both had not been present when the meeting began was concerning enough to briefly suppress other concerns.

One of Roderick's friends had been a rigger or decker - Leo had talked to the surly tech-wiz earlier that day - and these might be their drones, but that didn't mean it was safe. From the conversation at hand not all of Rod's "friends" were looking out for his best interests, and Leo's client may not want them listening in on such an important meeting. Some secrets were always a necessity in this line of work. Other Vory or rival syndicates could be the culprits, and this wouldn't have caused any great distress for Leonid, except that it could lead to unexpected and uncontrolled external violence that would threaten the man he had been hired to protect. The Vory here likely wouldn't have any great need for subtlety in the matters at hand. At the very least bringing them up might buy some extra time and forestall more discussion, and if the guards noticed them first - surprising that it hadn't happened that way - it could be even more trouble. The situation would be best if used by acting on it immediately and thereby gaining some semblance of control over it.

Deciding such, Leo lifted his hand from the table in front of him and nodded his head towards the mechanical surveillance in the window. "Friends of your?" he asked evenly, "or should we be concerned?"

[Scrapheap]

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

They were pinned down and nothing he had done so far had worked. John knelt with his back against the wall, clutching his smoking Ingram. He growled and slammed the back of his head against the wall in frustration. As bits of shattered glass and chunks of wall board fell from his shoulders and hair, the old runner realized that he still clenched a cigarette between his teeth. It had long ago been extinguished by the rain, and was now mangled, soggy, and limp, nearly bitten in two. He spat it out, idly wished he had time to light another.

If only that fraggin' girl hadn't run off, maybe we coulda got down them stairs by now, he thought bitterly. A quick glance in her direction showed that she wasn't fairing any better than he. He briefly thought about helping, but knew he didn't dare. His first responsibility was getting Nora out of here in one piece. Nothing else mattered right now. Just need ta think of a fraggin way out o' this drekstorm. No fraggin' problem...

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. It was a sensation he recognized, though it had been a long time since he felt anything similar. He almost panicked before remembering Lady Dove. He could see her speaking to thin air; looking at something he couldn't see. He smiled grimly. Maybe they still had a chance.

Risking a quick glance around the corner, Scrapheap noted the position of the gunmen before ducking back behind the bullet riddled wall. Using his smartlink, he changed the Ingram's fire mode to "full-auto" and ejected his nearly-empty clip. Catching it in his hand, he reached into the satchel and smoothly exchanged it for a full clip, pulled his hand free, and slammed the clip home.

He watched as his smartlink display changed to show a full load, then leaned back against the wall to wait for their chance.

[Mister Juan]

22:05:43 Sunday, 14 January 2063 – Seattle LTG

As the faceless icon explained his pricing, Ludmilla did her best not to cringe. It wasn't that she was particularly surprised, but she knew all too well that her own bank account was almost dry. There were still a million things she need to get not only for Lana, but for her aunt also. She had even convinced herself to try to get enough cash together to move out of their nasty den in Renton into an actual house. But knowledge had its price, and no matter how the young woman looked at it, over and over, she'd have to pay for it.

After all, if what Yuri knew ever got out, she would never have enough cred to buy her way out of jail. She simply had to do it. Not for her, but for Lana.

Ludmilla forced her icon to nod curtly.

“Ok.� was all she said at first, letting her words hang in the virtual air.

“Do not track any commlinks, at least not now. If I decide to go that way, I will inform you.�

[grendel]

22:05:54 Sunday, 14 January 2063 – Seattle LTG

Oracle inclines its head in understanding.

"Twenty four hours to do the work. Five hundred up front to prime the pump. Would you prefer to meet here again when I have the information or would you prefer other arrangements?"

From the way that the pale icon phrases its last question, Ludi guesses that a physical meet is probably out of the question.

[Slipshade]

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

Steeling himself against all rational thought, Max waited for the next burst of gunfire that would be his signal. It certainly happened sooner than he would have liked. The enormous Troll wheeled his enormous gun over the makeshift barricade and unleashed another deadly storm of lead.

'GO!' His thoughts screamed and his body obeyed. Max ran for the staircase, doing what he could to keep low without sacrificing speed. His heart pounded and his arm throbbed in pain, but he kept his legs moving, determined to help his friend and the two young ladies that may know something about what happened to Keira.

[Mister Juan]

22:06:07 Sunday, 14 January 2063 – Seattle LTG

Ludmilla felt her hands tighten back in the meat world. Deckers weren't particularly known to meet anyone outside of their own comfort zone... and Ludi wasn't close to being any sort of techno adept. At least, in the physical realm of things, she might have been able to bully him into lowering his price.

Too bad intimidation didn't work quite as well when you were, probably, stashed out, miles away, in a plushy chair.

“Give me an account number. I will wire you the money.�

She stopped a few seconds, trying to figure out how she would handle the following step.

“I'll set up a drop box. Do you have a way I can reach you?�

With each second that ticked by, Ludmilla grew more and more uneasy. She didn't particularly like virtual meeting. Hell! She didn't even like real meat meeting. All in all, she didn't like meetings at all. She was a field person. And right now, she felt all she did was play off the field.

Tomorrow, she'd get the job done.
After that, Oracle would come through with the location where Yuri was held.
She'd get rid of the problem.
Then she'd find a way to take care of Sascha.
Things would work out.
They had to.

[grendel]

22:06:21 Sunday, 14 January 2063 – Seattle LTG

Oracle cups its hands together, blowing into them. Ludi is somewhat surprised to see a pale blue light glow in between its fingers. Opening up its hands, Oracle offers a flickering pale blue candleflame to Ludi. The slim russian hesitantly stretches out her hand and touches the flame. Information flows across her vision as the file automatically transfers itself, a long alphanumeric string identifying Oracle's account.

"You can always find me here. If I am not, leave your message with the InnKeeper. He knows how to contact me."

[Mister Juan]

21:17:02 Sunday, 14 January 2063 - One of many coffin motels, Downtown, Seattle, UCAS

With the mental flick of a switch, Ludi transfered the information from the telecom unit into her pocket secretary.

"Good. I will be back in 48 hours."

Without adding a single other word, Ludmilla disconnected herself from the virtual realm.

Slowly, her physical senses became her own again. The cramped interior of the coffin started blurry and sharpened itself slowly. A small ball of throbbing pain bounced around the back of her head as she pull the optical cable out of her data jack. With a heavy sigh, she massaged her temple, trying to shove the dizzyness deep down her throat. She hated having her own senses pulled away from her. She felt vulnerable... and being vulnerable wasn't something for Ludi.

Taking the credstick she had gotten from the Scratch and Byte gig, she slotted it inside the coffin's reader, manually dialing in the account and wiring the cred over to God only knew where... That is, if God was a damn good decker.

The transaction complete, Ludi waited a few seconds, simply lying on her back and staring at the cushioned ceiling of the coffin. It was almost tempting to spend the night here. No one would come disturb her. No one knew where she was. She was out of touch.

Shaking the thought away from her mind, she pushed the door open with her boot, sliding rather gracefully out of the tiny coffin. The night was still rather young, but morning would rear its ugly head probably faster than she'd like.

Tonight, she'd have to skip going home. It was straight to the shop to check out all the gear and get ready for tomorrow's job.

Quite some time since I've gotten a beauty sleep.

[Cedric Rolfsson]

Monday January 8, 2063; 18:23:00; I-405; Seattle UCAS

The three of them sat in the car and talked as the autopilot drove, moving them closer to the target site while they worked out options.

The pick up of the gear had been no problem, but the information that Sybersnake had gotten them had made the task all the more difficult. So now with his trunk full of gear and his credstick considerably lighter Erebus had the car's autopilot moving them to a hotel near the airport, while they argued options. He still had the two runner's to contact, and time was ticking away if they were to be contracted and prepared for any kind of action in the near future.

The airport's security was insane, far more than just the three of them could hope to breach in the next couple of hours. Options were tossed out and discarded nearly as fast, each avenue to get onto the airport grounds and into the hanger came with more risks and error factors than they could possibily handle.

"No. There is no way we could make an assault on that hanger without setting off some kind of alarm. Even if we could get into the hanger without being detected I don't see any real way to recover our target without alerting Knight Errant security and we're not going to do anyone any good getting noosed on the way out of that hanger. I just don't see a way to make the extraction on the airport grounds, not with any kind of safety margin, I say we have to make the extraction while on the move to the airport." He'd said this before, trying to convince Sybersnake of the necessity despite the increased risks to the child inherent in ambushing the vehicles while on the move.

"That's crazy," the decker's voice was harsh with emotion held in rigid check, "we don't even know what they'll be driving in or what kind of force will be with him. Unless we just blow up all the vehicles we see there's no way we can be any safer hitting them on the move then once they get to hanger. I say we hire a plane to get us onto the grounds and then make a lightning raid from the plane to the hanger and then a quick retreat. At least that way we know what kind of security force we're up against!"

This argument had gone back and forth for the last thirty minutes, facts and figures, plans and options rolling back and forth between them without either one making much headway. Sybersnake wanted to take the option with the least risk to the child despite the increased obstacles they'd have to overcome, while Erebus insisted that an attack at the airport was beyond their capabilities in the time and budget they had available. Finally Dragon broke the tie.

"I don't see a feasible assault plan on the airport in the time we have. I think we'll have to accept the risks and hit them on the move. We'll just have to be careful how we plan the assault to minimize risks to the boy."

Erebus didn't smile at the victory, there were all sorts of emotional interplay between the decker and the other samurai that he couldn't understand, all carried on in a silent exchange of looks. Finally, her shoulders slumped in defeat, Sybersnake nodded her acceptance of the plan.

"Fine, we'll do it that way. How do you propose we identify which car is carrying our target." She said the word target bitterly, and Erebus could hear the emotion in the word. It felt like she was too close to this situation, like she couldn't be objective about it. No matter what the situation, a pro had to be objective, he believed that.

"We'll hire the mage the kid's contact put him onto and verify that he can summon a few watchers to search the area for him. It'll be nearly impossible for them to have the vehicles warded. We'll also get the rigger up with a couple of observation platforms and maybe an assault drone for fire power. We'll do the on-site assault and make sure we protect the boy. It's the only way." Dragon's voice shifted from it's normally unemotional proto-sociopathic tones into what in another person Erebus would almost call sympathetic.

[grendel]

18:57:04 Monday, 08 January 2063 - McHugh's #608, 3075 Westbrook Lane, Seattle, UCAS

The fast food joint was five blocks from the passenger terminal of the airfield, close enough that the business jets departing from the runway shook the ceiling as they passed overhead. The frequency was certainly nowhere near that of Sea-Tac, or the Boeing field, but often enough that none of the three runners hunched over one of the far booths would have considered living here. Sybersnake had remained sullen about the plan chosen until Dragon snapped at her one word answers to questions. She'd turned with the kind of fiery-eyed expression which always meant either really good things or really bad things, before her entire face seemed to crumble away, revealing a numb, emotionless expression. After that, she had participated with the same detached and professional attitude that both Dragon and Erebus had seen before. In between now and then, though, with most of the operational considerations ironed out, she simply sat and stared out the window at the snow covered ground outside.

The bell on the door rang, and Dragon kicked Erebus' foot under the table. The young elf turned to see a pair of men standing just inside the door. The taller one, elven by the looks of him although his head and ears were covered by a dark navy blue watch cap, nodded towards them, and followed his shorter companion down the narrow aisle to join them at the booth. The human was a slightly overweight young man, maybe late twenties, wearing a heavy winter coat and gloves. Neither one really fit the stereotype of 'shadowrunner' but, then, looks can be deceiving. Both Dragon and Erebus can tell that their armed, nothing heavier than a pistol, though.

"Good evening," said the elf, "I believe you're expecting us? Call me Shard. And my friend is Bridger. What can we do for you?"

[Morgannah]

00:23:42 Thursday 11 January 2063 - 862 Lucile Ave, Apt. 2C, Los Angeles, CFS

Busy until Monday.

She nodded, content to cut the call short. Somehow it was enough to hear that he was all right, that they'd see one another soon enough. A soft breath escaped as she sagged against the wall, entertaining dangerous thoughts of aquamarine waves and white sand between her toes; strong arms wrapped around her and Caska's warm breath on her skin. Her voice dropped to a throaty contralto.

"Count on it. Try to stay out of trouble, hmm?"

[grendel]

00:24:01 Thursday 11 January 2063 - Los Angeles, CFS

Caska chuckles, a low, raspy, wicked sound.

"Come now, what fun would that be? Trouble is just another synonym for fun. I'll talk to you soon, lady."

He closed down the transmission, staring out into the darkness of the night. The door opened behind him, and he knew without looking that it was Vegas. For a moment only the sounds of the city joined them. Then he sighed.

"Don't worry. It's compartmentalized. We're moving on the current op."

"Oh I don't care about that," smiled Vegas, "I just want to know what she said."

Caska shook his head, motioning his teammate back inside so they could prep for insertion.

"Women," he muttered.

[Cedric Rolfsson]

18:57:30 Monday January 8, 2063 McHughs Westbrook Lane- Seattle UCAS

Erebus looked up at the other runners and gestured to the open seats across from he and Dragon, he allowed the other runners to settle before he spoke.

"I'm Erebus, we're looking at a simple play here, at the very least it's straight forward. We're extracting our target, human male adolescent, from the people who've kidnapped him. He's being transported out of the sprawl in the next 24 hours via airplane and we need to get him before he's out of the sprawl. We need drone and magical cover, which is where you come in."

He kept his voice low and his eyes moving, looking for anyone in the area paying too much attention to their gathering. While he spoke he rested his right hand on the table and drummed his fingers as though impatient. He knew the other runners would notice the finger tapping and they might get the wrong idea which meant he might pay more, but tapping on the table would prevent anyone from aiming a laser at anything on the table and 'listening' to their conversation by reading the vibrations.

[grendel]

18:58:21 Monday, 08 January 2063 - McHugh's #608, 3075 Westbrook Lane, Seattle, UCAS

Shard glanced at his companion before nodding cautiously.

"Sounds like what we were briefed on. I've got the magic side covered, nothing too heavy or too fancy, but I can keep astral clear and I can keep spirits off you as well. My partner here is a surveillance master, but neither one of us packs a lot of firepower."

[The_Eyes]

13:50:31 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Seattle Aquarium, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

Though he still had no idea what to say, Eyes knew he'd have to say something the second he saw Angela's expression, and heard the anger and hurt in her voice. He would be the one to break, to speak first. But then, that's how it is, isn't it? That's how it's always been. She leads, you follow. She presses, you bend. She asks, you give. That's why you ran so quick the last time. It was a mistake, sure, but it was your mistake. But you can't well tell her that, can you? Better start thinking of a good excuse...

Eyes caught himself. He'd been referring to himself in the second person again, as "you" rather than "I". It was disorienting, but still... familiar somehow. But the worst part, the most disturbing, was that the thoughts in his head seemed slightly disconnected from his "real" thoughts, as crazy as that sounded. He remembered a time it had happened before, shortly after that night, the worst night of his life.

It was a dark evening, overcast and humid, but still cool in that way you can only get in the Bay Area. Eyes was cool and confident, slicing and sleazing his way into the warehouse like he owned the place. That new trick he'd learned a week ago was working better than he could have hoped; not even the University's surveillance drones could find him. Even if they could it wouldn't matter; between him and Jane most of the cameras had been disabled or looped; it'd be hours before anyone knew they'd been there. All he had to do was get to the loading bay door and open it from the inside, then he and the rest of the team could practically clean the place out before the guard, asleep at his post, started his rounds.

"Wait, wait, Angela, please... I'm sorry," said Eyes, all the heat and frustration gone from his voice, "I've been working over this exact conversation in my head for months--years, even, and the only points I seem to be hitting are the stupid, angry, useless ones. I keep forgetting that I haven't actually apologized yet; I keep trying to come up with the right words that will make everything better, but I haven't even said any of the imperfect ones, any of the stuff I've been trying to work up the nerve to say. I've always been that way; I spend so much time thinking of brilliant things to do, and then what I end up actually doing is stupid and wrong."

He was a dozen steps from the door and victory, and then, with a flicker of light and a faint whiff of brimstone, it all came apart. Eyes ducked behind a shelf as ball of fire whizzed past where his head had been moments before. He glanced behind him and saw... a monster, a burning, fiery demon, glaring at him through molten eyes, right through all his little parlor tricks, everything. "SURRENDER," it said, his menacing voice booming through Eyes's mind.

"I mean, why I left," Eyes continued, "It wasn't so much that that, thing, beat me up. Lord knows even after all that time I spent working at it, I'd probably still lose in a straight-up fight, to you, Carla, probably even that nervous kid Stan, let alone a Fire Elemental. I came to terms with being weak and pathetic back in school."

Eyes was quivering in his Doc Martens, but he still wasn't panicking. He had planned on what he'd do if he were spotted, even if the plan was a bit improvised and hadn't counted on some kind of demon monster from hell. He called on the other spell he learned recently, the stunner, the only weapon he carried, once it had become obvious that his talents did not extend in any way to firearms. He reached down, deep inside himself... and came up with nothing. Not even a whimper; it was like he had been dreaming the whole time, and had never actually been able to do any of it. The monster growled, the fire around it glowing brighter and more real...

"It wasn't that it had seen me through my disguise, or that I couldn't do anything to even hold him off for a second," Eyes said. "I'm not even sure how afraid I am of it. I don't really remember a whole lot of what happened after it caught me. They told me I was very, very lucky, if you can call being blown through an aluminum garage door by an exploding gas cylinder 'lucky.'"

Eyes lay in his bed, battered and bruised. His world was filled with incoherent grays and black static; his eyes were glitching, and the docs refused to fix them until he was fully recovered.

You can't go on like this, you know, Eyes thought. You're losing yourself, in a cause that, frankly, you don't believe in. You are here, not for your own beliefs, but because some woman crooked her finger, and you went. It's past time you started thinking about yourself, and not other people's expectations of you.

"I think what really convinced me I had to get out was when I was recovering, and I thought to myself, 'What if I had died?' What would my memorial be? 'James Fuller, 2037-2061: He lived and died fighting the Japanese'?"

Eyes shook his head. "Is that really what I want my whole life to be about? Fighting a guerrilla war against the Japs? I'm not a soldier. I hate violence. I didn't even fight back in school when the kids beat me up 'cause they said I looked at 'em funny; remember that? What in the world was I doing fighting a war?"

Almost unconsciously, Eyes reached down into a drawer, and pulled out the old pair of eyeglasses he had as a child, the ones he wore for years until his vision worsened and the doctors had them replaced. The ones he kept to remind him of how he had changed, and what he had been through. Time to see the world through your eyes, he thought, the ones you were meant to have, before all these outside influences came to color your judgment. He put on the glasses, and, though they didn't do a thing to correct his vision anymore, all of a sudden the world seemed a little clearer. It's looking like a new day for me, Eyes thought, as he stretched back on his bed, waiting for the time he could make good on the promise he had just made with himself.

"That, I think, frightened me more than anything else," Eyes said, "That I was just becoming some nameless soldier in a never-ending war against the Japs. I know it's an idiot thing to think, but it seemed to make so much sense at the time. I mean, twenty-five years. Twenty-five years they've been marching their jack-boots through the Bay, and the way things were going it seemed they'd be there another twenty-five, indoctrinating generations of free Californians into their racist bulldr-um, ideology. I hated that idea--I still do--but I didn't want my whole life to be devoted to hating someone, even if they were evil. I wanted to build things, to discover things, and it was all being put on hold, to be a soldier.

"So I left. I ran, like a scared little rabbit. I told myself that I was just 'clearing my head,' 'looking at things through new eyes,' 'finding myself,' that sort of hippie nonsense. I've made a lot of mistakes since then, but the worst, the very worst, was not telling you or anyone else why I left. I guess even then I knew that I was being irrational; I just wanted to work it out myself." Pfeh, yeah right. You knew that the moment you told her, she's make her doe-eyes and draw you right back in. You ran from everything and everyone, but her more than most.

Eyes grimaced. "It was wrong; it was selfish; it was stupid. And what I want, more than anything else, what I've wanted since I left like that, is to make it right. What can I do to make up for it? I'll help you find Janet. I'll help you charm these murdering thugs into not killing her, and everyone else, if someone else makes a better offer or something. I'll even go three rounds with the fire elemental--though I hope I hope I hope it doesn't come to that.

"Just please, please tell me there's something I can do to make this better," Eyes said, no longer bothering to hide the scared child who still lived, who'd always live, behind his cold metal eyes. "I need your help, Angela, because after all this time, this is the best I can do, and I don't think it's good enough. How do I fix this?"

[Morgannah]

19:47:32 Friday 11 January 2063 - 372 W Lexington Ave, Pomona, CFS

For Cosmo, the hours that passed were busy ones remarkably free of introspection. She planned heavily, reconned patiently, and even set aside an hour for a heavenly soak in the newly scoured tub. She came out of it centered, clean and content. Still, nervous energy and the knowledge that even one botch in the next few days could jeopardize everything kept her from being too comfortable. Somehow she was able to put Caska and the Kalds from her mind and focus on the interesting challenges ahead of her.

The mirage slowed as she slipped through traffic, eyes sharp and alert as she scanned the front of Strand Valley High School from the parking lot of a nearby coffee shop. She was early, of course, but what else was new? An average passerby would note a slim woman in black casually checking her motorcycle's tire pressure; for an operator, the bike served as a bit of concealment, hiding her face from any surveillance, real or imagined, that might trip her up later.

[grendel]

19:54:17 Friday 12 January 2063 - 372 W Lexington Ave, Pomona, CFS

Like most high schools these days, Strand Valley High was a collection of connected red brick buildings, most of only two stories. Cosmo is willing to bet the large, four story structure closest to the parking lot is the gymnasium. A tall fence of vertical iron rods surrounds the campus, a decorative security measure that still serves to keep those interested in casual mayhem from entering school grounds. A large pair of gates stand open, one for incoming traffic and the other for outgoing. A pair of bored, overweight security guards wander around the small kiosk next to the gates, trying to look official. Hand lettered signs and banners advertise the Winter Fantasy dance taking place tonight starting at eight p.m. Cosmo can also see a series of security cameras mounted on the school buildings, covering the main entrances as well as most of the parking lot. It never pays to be too careful when it comes to teenage shennanigans.

[Morgannah]

19:56:29 Friday 12 January 2063 - 372 W Lexington Ave, Pomona, CFS

At the very core of herself, Cosmo was not a patient person but she made a point of breathing deep and only focusing on the timestamp imprinted on the upper corner of her left lens once every minute or so. She scanned tirelessly; the guards were not likely to notice her and it was reasonable to assume that any camera with a possible angle on her face was on the other side of nearly 175 kilos of metal alloy and fiberglass. It was cause for concern, if not proper worry.

One more minute ticked by. Long, gloved fingers slipped the helmet back on as she straightened and "relaxed" on the leather seat.

Two minutes left.

One.

[grendel]

20:07:42 Friday 12 January 2063 - 372 W Lexington Ave, Pomona, CFS

Punctuality is not a virtue that most high schoolers are gifted with. Despite the steady stream of towne cars and limos arriving, Cosmo doesn't see her target until nearly ten minutes after eight. And then the only thing that sets apart the Nightsky from all the other nearly identical vehicles is the Elite registration number stenciled on its rear bumper. From her vantage point, she watches as the limo waits patiently through the cue of cars near the entrance to the school, finally disgorging a handful of couples. The girls are done up with care, hair perfectly coiffed and makeup expertly applied. The boys seem somehow awkward in their finery, as if they haven't quite garnered the knowledge of how to move when wearing a suit and tie.

[WinterRat1]

18:58:59 Monday, 08 January 2063 - McHugh's #608, 3075 Westbrook Lane, Seattle, UCAS

Dragon doesn't so much as look at Sybersnake. Emotion had no more place here. Now it was all about business, pure and simple. If they did their job right, the emotions would work themselves out later. If not...there was no 'if not'. They would succeed. It was just a question of 'how'.

"Overwhelming firepower is not a concern. The correct type of firepower is our priority in this situation. Specifically, what non-lethal options are at your disposal? Incapacitation is the order of the day for this job and is a prerequisite for us to complete this op successfully."