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

[Vegas]

12:58:02Tuesday 09 January 2063 - The Emporium, 8047 Fall City Road, Redmond, Seattle

Mac acquiesced to his terms of their deal with a slight nod of her head before she dutifully pushed the cart behind Kovacs and the pair kept going further and deeper into The Emporium.

“A couple of other stops? We’re going to be shopping all day hmm?” She raised the back of her hand to her lips as she tried to stifle a yawn. Her mind wandered a bit as she continued to follow along, convinced Kovacs had some internal GPS for this place knowing exactly where things were, or should have been.

Frag me, that means less than 36 before I have to be back, even less time to scrape together more cash.

Truthfully, she hated shopping. Perhaps she should have turned in her “girl” card, but she could think of a million things she’d rather be doing than shopping, even when it was for things as important as they were hunting for today. They walked past table after table, rack after rack full of clothing and gear. Some of the patterns on the clothes stuck out to her, recognizing them as identical or very similar to all the gear she had found in Kovacs’ closet when she had been snooping around.

“So do we have plans for later tonight? I probably need to get my bike out of Shatter’s back hall before either the valets or the owner decides to make a few extra bucks offloading it. Their generosity is only going to last so long. Besides, might be nice to let off a little steam?”

She smiled dangerously at the thought of hitting the town to hunt down some extra cash tonight.

[grendel]

13:07:46 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - The Emporium, 8047 Fall City Road, Redmond, Seattle

"Yeah, we're almost done here but now comes the audience participation part." Kovacs answered absently as he rifled through a rack of slate gray body suits. Pulling one out, he eyeballed Mac for a moment before putting it back and pulling a smaller one. The next table over has stacks of clear plastic bags labeled with 'Vashon Island'. He rummages through the stacks, mixing and matching colors and sizes, until he finds what he likes.

"All right, go try these on." He dumps the lot into Mac's arms and points her towards a narrow row of cubicles that serve as changing rooms. Mac sighed, she was afraid that the trip was going to involve this. Had it been her money, she would have rather just guessed at the size and tried it on at leisure once she got home. But she somehow doubted that Kovacs would be down for two or three return trips her guesstimation often required.

Once inside the rickety booth, she stripped off her clothes quickly, fumbling for a minute with the unfamiliar garments. As it is, the form-fitting shirt is just the right size, but the pants are too long, hanging down over her feet. Next game the Vashon Island outfit, the pants and shirt stiff from their packaging. Neither one of these proved to be the right size, the shirt was too tight while the pants were too lose in the waist.

Dressing quickly, she headed back out onto the floor. Kovacs appeared to be deep in conversation with one of the employees, so Mac rummaged through the stacks of clothing to find the right sizes. She didn't bother trying them on, just dumping them into the cart and greeting Kovacs' inquisitive look with a bright smile.

"Those fit? Good, get another set," he directed. Mac shrugged and found duplicates for everything, then followed him to the checkout counter. The young ork behind the register began sorting and scanning everything. Kovacs moved to the end of the counter and opened up the large duffel bag they'd purchased and started stuffing it full. Mac watched the digital display as the machine tallied the prices up. When it crested :nuyen: 5000, she cringed. The :nuyen: 2500 she'd given Kovacs didn't even cover half the cost, and they were only at their first stop!

Kovacs paid certified for everything, slinging the duffel over his shoulder.

"C'mon, there's a lunch place down the road we can stop by, and then comes the fun."

[DeliciousD]

17:30:07 Monday, 08 January 2063 - Spider Security Systems, 1149 Cherry Street, Downtown Seattle

After leaving Danny's shop, Joslyn had made a quick stop at Pizzapopolis to pick up the greasiest and most unappetising pizza they had, then made his way back to the office.

Interesting day he thought to himself with a smile, though as he pulled into the office block's carpark, his smile faded and a look of consternation crossed his face.

"Fragging invoices!" he berated himself, he'd completely forgotten the pile of paperwork he'd left on his desk when he went to meet Sergio, it was going to be a late one.

Stepping out of the car, he straightened up slowly and, with an expectant wince on his face, waited for the familiar pain that didn't come...with a smile he arched his back and bent over several times...what does paperwork matter when you can move painlessly?

Grabbing the pizza, Joslyn took the stairs up to the office three at a time, arriving barely out of breath. He called out as he entered.

"Hoi Andy, food's up!"

No reply came so Joslyn wandered through to the workshop to find Andy passed out in his overly expensive synth-leather reclining chair. Several jabs with a finger didn't stir the decker so he cleared a space for the pizza and left it on the worktop and quickly sent a message on his commlink.

Food's still warm if you want it

Noticing the time on the commlink, Joslyn sighed and strode across to his own office, he swept the pile of unfinished contracts, quotes and various business paperwork into a briefcase and clicked it shut, set the office phone to redirect to his commlink and straightened his coat. His commlink buzzed as he made his way to the door.

Nice one Joss, in the middle of something here, I'll have it cold

No worries, I'll be in late tomorrow, see you then.

Leaving the comatose decker with his rapidly cooling junk food, Joslyn made his way down to the carpark again and headed for home.


18:37:31 Monday, 08 January 2063 - First Hill Apartments, 1030c East Terrace Street, Seattle

The apartment felt nearly tropical after the bitter winds outside, the place was sparsely furnished, Rose had dealt with things like buying furniture and decorating and Joslyn hadn't picked up the habit since she left. The front door led straight into the large living area, two ragged sofas sat facing a small and outdated trid, several tables were scattered about the room, most of them had pieces of dissected maglocks, broken scanners and unsorted tools on them, though the one in front of the trid was empty. To his right, two bedroom doors were the only decoration to the wall behind the Trid and to his left were the small unkempt kitchen and a surprisingly well cleaned bathroom.

Joslyn brushed rapidly melting snow from his shoulders and hung up his longcoat. Shedding clothes as he strode through apartment and dropped his briefcase on the small metal table in front of his ancient trid.

Work can wait he thought to himself as he made a beeline to one of the few things he'd brought here from the Caribbean, his father's real oak drinks cabinet, he glanced at the notes he'd left himself there; "Call Toby" and "Call Sinead"

Calls can wait

Taking a half empty bottle of dark rum from the cabinet, he poured himself a large glass and made for the spare bedroom, he smiled as he pushed open the door, light and heat poured out of the room and he stepped into the humid air.

All over the walls, shelves were covered in plant pots, sunlamps and finely tuned sprinklers hung above each pot, occasionally a hiss would sound as water sprayed onto drying soil. It was a foolish expense, he knew that, but in a small way these vibrant flowers and occasionally fruiting plants were a piece of home to hold onto...though by now, he'd lived in the USA and UCAS far longer than he'd lived in Grenada, he still thought of that tiny island as home.

For a short while, he simply stood and took in the smells and the heat, sipping the rum as he looked around, casually surveying his tropical plants. When the glass was dry, he began his checks...methodically and with years of habit to guide him, he checked each plant in turn, adjusting sprinkler settings and moving lamps up or down as he saw fit. Finally satisfied with the smaller plants, he turned his attention to his pride...the six foot Soursop tree. It stood in the centre of the room, it's deep pot surrounded by empty jars and fertiliser bottles, he had tried everything his parents, libraries and the matrix had to say and yet, after decades of trying, it still stubbornly refused to bear fruit. He picked up the most recent concoction he had put together and gently sprayed it about the base of the tree.

"This'll get you going," he told the tree "Or else you get the axe." he smiled at the threat, by now the plant surely knew it was an idle one but then, you never know.

He left the plant room feeling refreshed and took a few minutes to flick through trid channels for interesting news, leaving it on a weather report as he unpacked the paperwork from his briefcase. Looking at the pile warily, he grabbed another rum and set to work.

[Vegas]

13:09:27 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - The Emporium, 8047 Fall City Road, Redmond, Seattle

As they stepped outside, Mac was still shaking her head at the cash Kovacs had just dropped and paused outside long enough to give the remaining Crimson Crush their very own once-over, up-and-down followed by a cool look of indifference before dropping her shades back down to the bridge of her nose as she followed a step and a half behind and to the right of Kovacs.

13:26:13 Tuesday 09 January 2063 – August Moon Noodle House, 18005 NE 68th St, Redmond, Seattle

The lunch place “just down the road” was a little noodle shop with the most delicious smells that assaulted Mac’s nose as soon as Kovacs opened and held the door for her. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she was from traipsing all over The Emporium trying to keep up with him. They placed their orders and grabbed a small table of Kovacs choosing. One where he could keep his back to the wall and had clear line of sight over the kitchen/backroom as well as the front door.

It didn’t take long until a young Asian kid brought their food over and set it down unceremoniously, looking like he’d rather be anywhere than in his family’s restaurant at that moment. Mac closed her eyes and took a deep breath and smiled happily as the heat from the bowl of Pho along with intensifying spiciness danced in her sinuses.

She took her time and savored the first few spoonfuls of her soup as she watched Kovacs dive right into his lunch. Tucking her hands beneath her chin she stopped and watched him, shaking her head slightly with a smile.

“So, just what kind of “fun” do you have planned for this afternoon?”

She dreaded that the next words to come out of his mouth would be “more shopping!” knowing that he had already mentioned there were a few more stops on their trip having struck out on a few things at The Emporium.

[grendel]

13:29:44 Tuesday 09 January 2063 – August Moon Noodle House, 18005 NE 68th St, Redmond, Seattle

Kovacs smiles, pausing to slurp down the last of his broth before answering. "Weapons," was all he said.

Mac couldn't help but answer with her own grin. Maybe the afternoon shopping wasn't going to be so bad after all.

13:51:29 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - 5420 Mont Clair Blvd, Redmond, Seattle

Mac glanced aside at Kovacs as the Range Rover pulled to a stop in front of a run-down oversized quonset hut next to a Mexican-German place advertised as HansBiertos, best burritos in the metroplex!. He shrugged.

"They really do have good burritos."

She rolled her eyes, following him as he went around to the side and through an unmarked steel firedoor. Inside the air was cool and dry, smelling of cosmoline and cordite, cold steel and brass. The steel shelves that reached almost to the fluorescent overheads were well stocked with weapons gear: pouches, holsters, slings, pads, cleaning gear, mounts, covers, rails, cable feeds, grips, stocks, magazines, speedloaders, and saddles.

Behind the counter were the weapons themselves, racked horizontally for display, although Mac could see shadows of the remaining stock tucked away in vertical shelves in the far back. A sinfully handsome elf glanced up from the flat panel display he was reading, his face segueing from guarded to pleasantly surprised.

"Kovacs. Good to see you again. It's been awhile."

"Too long, Locus," replied Kovacs. "This is Mac, who's going to be working with me for a bit. I need to get her kitted out."

Locus nodded. "Mac, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Mac nodded in reply, letting her arm swing back to her side as if she'd never even twitched it forward for the handshake. Now that she thought about it, neither man had offered his hand to the other. She made a note to ask Kovacs about it later.

"Nice to meet you, too."

Locus turned back to Kovacs, and something unspoken passed between the men and the elf nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Let me see the Colt 2066, the Ultra power, and that Walther Sekura. Also the P93 and an Alpha."

Kovacs turned to Mac as Locus began to pile hardware on the countertop.

"The heavy pistols are your choice, it's important that the weapon feel comfortable in your hands. We'll use the range in back so you have a chance to test fire them as well. The Colt 2066 is what I recommend, but only if it fits you. The other two are more than acceptable substitutes. For your long arms, though, there is nothing better than the P93, and certainly nothing better than the Ares Alpha. You can run those through their paces as well if you like."

[Vegas]

13:53:41 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - 5420 Mont Clair Blvd, Redmond, Seattle

Still a little taken aback that she finally knew the answer to just what name Kovacs knew her by, Mac approached the counter like a kid in a candy store. She had always had an appreciation for guns. Many of the girls who worked off-site for The Stable, carried light pistols, even Hope carried a Morrissey Élan. Mac had just always felt more confident in her skills with her blade, plus it was a lot easier to carry to a job versus a pistol.

"Kovacs, her voice soft but full of electricity as she ran her fingers over the grips of the Colt and the P93. "I've never actually shot pistols before, strictly longarms, shotguns to be specific."

Mac never liked that initial feeling of not being in control because of a lack of knowledge, however she promised herself for the time being she wouldn't keep secrets from Kovacs. Besides, she thought it better for everyone's safety, hers included, to be upfront with the guys who knew it all. She took a deep breath and tried to settle the excited anticipation about running through a clip or two on an actual range instead of across a parking lot shooting at some of Wally’s discarded bottles.

[Mach_Ten]

19:20:07 Monday, 08 January 2063 - apartment 1313 @ 508 NE 97th Pl, Redmond, Seattle

Pulling into the parking lot of the apartment complex Remy takes a moment to take in his surroundings,
the howling wind that swept him continuously sideways on the interstate is now abated, this area sheltered by the surrounding buildings and the few synth-trees dotted around the lot in an attempt to make it look as appealing as the neighbourhoods in Bellevue,where all they really achieve is looking as bare an unkempt as the rest of the area here, showing signs of age in the peeling façade.
It now seems a bit like a winter wonderland with all the usual defaced street furniture hidden under a white blanket.

He dismounts and kills the engine before pushing the bike up the pavement and under the corrugated cover that looks to be about to crumple under the weight of snow atop it.
Not daring to drive the vehicle directly there as he curses himself for forgetting to finish up Mrs. Akiras Drekkin’ VCR.
He contemplates the long drive back but dismisses the thought as quickly as it came, not wanting to risk the treacherous drive two more times in one night.

With the bike secured he steps into the entrance hall that somehow feels colder in here than in the bitterness outdoors and shivers uncontrollably,
partly at the freezing temperature but more at the thought of yet another long boring night in the plas-crete box he calls home.
After stamping the remaining snow from his boots he puts his first foot onto the step of the stairs and stops.
Every nerve in his body resisting the commands to move, they ache for some kind of activity, his mind racing to find a distraction from the monotony
and constantly going back over the days events he finally settles on a course of action and retracts his foot, spinning around he walks out into the snow filled dark of Redmond.

“Hoi, Ummm Mister Krasnov? … Da .. it’s Rembrandt… da da eto ya, rebenok , Ser, do you have a job for me tonight ?”
Remy, tries once more to twist his mouth around the Cyrillic language, finds he has to drop his street slang accent to even begin while he calls up Mr. Krasnov from a Pay-2-LTG in the stuffer shack.
“vosem' chasov ? at that address, Da, I cans make dat!” He exclaims, then looking around in case he is overheard he quietens his voice
“Ans I bring my chummers ? da okay!”
with that conversation concluded he hangs up the line and slots another credstick dialling a new number

“Hoi dere missus wainwight, is Giggerb…. I means is Maffew in please?”
He stumbles around the pronunciation of GiggerBytes Mom’s name as he tries to be courteous to her, after all his best mates Mother is quite hot for her age and Remy always feels uncomfortable when face to face, comm calls are much simpler.
“Yeah I’s waits for him”

he taps his finger on the glass of the booth as he sits impatiently until GiggerByte answers his Mom’s cries from up stairs above his basement domain.
When he eventually picks up the line and Mrs. Wainwright has left earshot he continues sarcasticly using his real world name
“Heeey Mafffew, So.. umm what’s your Mom wearin’ today Chummer ? She gots dat skin-paint shirt on I boughts her for her birfdays ?”
a huge grin broadening on his face as he awaits the impending explosion from the end of the line.

“Look here Green-skin! I told you before you touch my Mom and I’ll …I’ll … well you know what I’ll do to you, Ya scan, and the name is GIGGERBYTE, I fragging hate you Rembrandt, what ya want anyways, I’m in the middle of something huge here !”
Remy controls the fit of hilarity that almost envelops him at winding up his friend and explains what he has planned for tonights entertainment as Giggerbyte calms down.

“Just a distraction right? I’m not up for getting pulled home by the Star again Remy, but yeah, I’ll get the guys round, not seen SeeSaw or Banjo in ages anyways, eight oclock at Machiavelli ? yeah scan that see you there!”
With a click he terminates the call and Remy hangs up, standing from the plastic chair he exits the booth and tightens up his coat for the weather before stepping outside to wait for the Grid-Rail™ tram to arrive rather than take his bike out in this.

19:59:23, Monday, 08 January 2063 - Ristorante Machiavelli, 3010 Western Ave, Seattle

The small crew huddle out of the wind in the alleyway behind the dumpsters and containers, rubbing hands to keep circulation going they exchange stories of their exploits in the days since they last met up.
“And so I sez to him .. listen Chummer, She’s goin wiv’ me cuz I gots da cash right here, an’ you street drek ain’t got frag all to do about it!”
SeeSaw, so named for his bi-polar nature which no one is really sure which is which and when he’s up or down is acting out a tale of the last hooker he picked up.
Remy looks anxiously out of the alleyway, not really listening to him
as he relates the ensuing argument he had with a competing customer and how he “saw him off with his bulging biceps”.

A cars headlights illuminate the busy street outside as it pulls up and Remy recognises the driver as he exits the still running vehicle to open the rear door for it’s occupants.
“Go time guys!” He hisses to his mates and they make their way noisily round to the open rear door of the kitchens, the fantastic smells of cooking Italian food wafts out into the cold air almost drawing him in by the nose.

In the harsh neon lights of the kitchen the chefs and cooks immediately notice the four enter, dressed in their dirtiest and baggiest clothes, fingers coated in dirt and muck to look like vagrants and homeless,
they immediately split up to start touching food prep areas and picking up items for examination while the chefs in pristine white uniforms cry out almost in unison
“Hey HEY!... you can’t be in here. This is private property get out now or else , ….. Sicurezza !!”

Amost immediately on hearing the shouted alarm, the double doors into the dining area burst open and two large men, broad shouldered but amazingly fast for their bulk, enter the kitchens with right hands immediately going to what can only be concealed holsters under their suit jackets
"uscire veloce!! .. get out of here scum!”
one of them orders and approaches the crew, stepping lightly around the food preparation benches and ovens in between.

Now that they have their attention the crew back off to the doors they came in, a few food items still in hand they move backwards at a similar pace to the oncoming security mooks,
“SCRAM!” Remy shouts and they turm as one bolting for the door and barging each other out of the way in an effort to not be caught up.
Security chase after them into the street but their real leather footwear is not designed for high speed pursuit of vagrants in the icy street, so the only thing that pursues them is the echo of footfalls and angry shouts.

thankfully no bullets today Remy thinks to himself as he easily outpaces his comrades, the synthetic muscles stretching and contracting smoothly under his flesh and the enhanced organs not even slightly strained for the mild exercise, where his crew are almost all out of breath and staggering to a halt by the end of the block.
While he leans against a street lamp and bites into a slice of steaming pizza.
“Jobs well done guys!” he croons at them as they catch their breath, “so, who wants burgers n’ shakes ?” clapping them on the back they move off into the night discarding their outer dirty clothes and looking for a place to eat and relax in the warm.

[grendel]

14:12:33 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - 5420 Mont Clair Blvd, Redmond, Seattle

"Good," replies Kovacs. "This way I won't have to break you of any bad habits."

He picks up the Colt pistol, reflexively locking the slide back to ensure the chamber is empty.

"All right, this is the Colt Government Model 2066, my preferred heavy pistol. It has a polymer frame with a steel slide and barrel, both NiCorr treated to prevent corrosion and make cleaning easy. It has a minimum of external controls, just the magazine release here, the slide release here, and a takedown lever here. It features an internal electronic safety as well as the safe action trigger. The weapon is designed with electronic firing, that is once the trigger trips the sear, an impulse is sent via the weapon's built in battery to ignite the propellant in the round. The result is a very smooth, direct recoil impulse due to a minimum of moving parts."

He handed the weapon to Mac after demonstrating the operating procedures for her.

"Usually the 2066 comes installed with an internal smartlink as well, which also provides an additional layer of safety. They route the battery power through the smartlink hardware, which means that even if the trigger is pulled, unless the weapon is engaged with an active smartlink it won't fire."

Mac nodded, doing her best to absorb the rapid-fire information.

"The 2066 features trapezoidal sights as the angles are easier to distinguish against a background usually consisting of straight lines. Make sure the front triangle is centered in the back trapezoid and put the point of the triangle center of mass of your target."

Kovacs used the back of a paper target that Locus slid across the counter to demonstrate his point. Mac aimed into the dimness of the shop, trying to emulate the sketch.

"Both eyes open," corrected Kovcacs. "Your target will be blurry, and your rear sight will be blurry. The front sight will be in focus, and keep both eyes open. Whatever object your dominant eye focuses on will remain in focus and will drive the other eye as well."

Mac tried it, finding the process a bit unnatural, having to constantly remind herself not to close her left eye as she sighted down the pistol's barrel. Locus slid across a pair of shooting glass and a set of hearing protection for her. She glanced over at Kovacs, who slid the protective covers over his cybereyes in response. They moved sideways across the sclera, giving him a reptilian cast.

Together they went through the soundlock to the right of the counter, stepping into the narrow range. It had only three bays, but ran the full length of the store, almost thirty meters. Kovacs dropped a box of ammo and two clips onto the range bench, quickly loading them with fourteen rounds a piece.

"Stand with your feet shoulder width apart, square to your target. Bend your knees, roll your shoulders forward. This puts your center of gravity forward of your waist, and allows you to ride the recoil better. Arms straight out, right hand wrapped firmly around the pistol grip, left hand around the right, thumbs together on the left side of the weapon. Keep them clear of the slide."

Kovacs demonstrated the position, then passed the weapon to Mac, who did her best to follow. She felt his hands on her body, easing her feet slightly closer together, and pushing her shoulders down just a little bit more.

"Good." He picked up one of the magazines. "When you load, grasp the magazine in your left hand, index finger along the front spine. Pointing with that finger is second nature, so it builds on your existing muscle memory to guide the magazine into the grip of the weapon."

He ran through the motions a couple of times slowly, then a couple of times at speed.

"With the magazine firmly seated, wrap your hand over the top of the slide, thumb on the left side of the weapon, fingers on the right. Pull back and push forward at the same time. Don't ever ride the slide home, you'll jam the weapon. Just push pull and let the spring do the work."

Once again he demonstrated for her, then watched while Mac got back into her stance, loading the weapon and putting it in battery.

"Good. We'll go over clearing malfunctions and stoppage drills later. For now I want you to squeeze off a couple of rounds. Focus on good trigger control. Drive the pad of your finger straight back, nice and smooth. Try not to anticipate the weapon. Just squeeze and relax."

Mac took a breath, reminding herself to keep her eyes open, and focused on the front sight of the pistol. It was heavy in her hands, and the triangle wavered between the bellybutton and chest of the man-shaped silhouette ten meters downrange. Slowly she squeezed the trigger.

BOOM. The report was loud in the narrow confines of the range, damped and tinny but still surprising through Mac's ear protection.

"Good," said Kovacs, his voice raised so she could hear it. "High left, ten o'clock. Keep your wrist tight when you fire. Again."

[Vegas]

14:12:33 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - 5420 Mont Clair Blvd, Redmond, Seattle

Mac let go of the breath she was holding, realizing that while she wasn't hesitating, pulling smooth and firm on the trigger, she was however holding her breath. She let her breath go in a steady stream of air, before making a few adjustments and breathing in again, she closed her eyes to steady her stance. She shifted the weight in her hips, acutely aware of Kovacs' body standing just behind hers.

She adjusted her grip and her aim minutely to his request as her muscles firmed the support in her wrists as her index finger placed pressure on the trigger. She was more prepared for the kickback this time as her arms absorbed the majority of the kinetic energy. The rush was heady and intoxicating.

The next thing she felt was Kovacs' hands on her hips as he leaned in and firmly spoke in her ear, loud enough to be heard over her suppression.

"Breathe!"

Her breath left her in a soft gasp and her body couldn't help but respond to his touch. Her senses were on overdrive and she pressed herself back against Kovacs, her breath coming out thin and shallow.

"You're not helping here Kovacs." She hissed softly through clenched teeth before she focused herself, as much as she could under the circumstances, and retook her stance before squeezing off another two rounds in rapid succession.

[DeliciousD]

23:40:31 Monday, 08 January 2063 - First Hill Apartments, 1030c East Terrace Street, Seattle

The last of the paperwork done, Joslyn packed it away into the briefcase and sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes to try to clear to dry itch that had set in over the last hour, he yawned deeply and picked his commlink up off the table.

Romano looking for cooling unit, now the team he was helping is looking for it.

Noland and Xade, lonestar? operatives for a corp? Looking for the team and Romano. Fancy tracking device in a business card

Joslyn stopped making notes and went over to his hanging coat and fished in the pocket for the tracking device with magnet attached. Pulling it out, he looked it over again then placed it down on the table and picked up the commlink again.

Redmond Swap meet, join Remy and Danny and keep an eye out for team, might get info.

Look into tracking device makers

Ask Zayda about Noland and Xade


He left the notes open on the commlink display and set an alarm for 05:00. Glancing over the notes one more time, he shrugged, it wasn't much, but it'd have to do for now.

Satisfied with a reasonable day's work, Joslyn told the home node to crank the heat up a couple of degrees and headed for bed.

[grendel]

14:52:23 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - 5420 Mont Clair Blvd, Redmond, Seattle

In the end, Kovacs has her run through two clips of ammo for all three weapons. As much as she liked the Colt, she had to admit that the Browning Ultra-power fit better in her hands. Neither Kovacs nor Locus try to change her mind.

"The mean time between failures for any of these weapons is on the order of tens of thousands of rounds," explained the elf, his long fingers dancing over the sleek polymer frames with a disturbing amount of eroticism. Mac took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the matter at hand, rather than the heat swirling through her at the possibilities of what she could do with both of these handsome men.

"The most important choice, then, is what the user feels comfortable with. What fits her hand and her ergonomics."

Kovacs, busy stripping rounds into the magazines for the submachinegun and the assault rifle, nodded in agreement. Locus brought out the flat gray plastic case for the Browning, fitting it inside and showing Mac the two magazines that accompanied the weapon.

"Throw in two more," requested Kovacs. Locus nodded, retrieving the mags from a plastic bin in back, setting them atop the pistol box.

"All right, this is the FN P93 Praetor. It's a select fire, API blowback operated weapon with a cyclic rate of fire of 900 rounds per minute. It has a fixed stock with fully ambidextrous controls, although unlike its predecessor, it loads from a bullpup position rather than top loading. It can accept barrel and top mounted accessories and can be modified for electronic firing just like the Colt." Kovacs paused in his explanation to glance at Locus, who nodded in confirmation that this one was so modified.

"It accepts fifty round double stack magazines. The magazine release is just behind the pistol grip, here. The easiest way to do it is to rack the thumb from around the pistol grip, trip the magazine release and let the empty mag fall free."

Kovacs demonstrated, the empty polymer mag bouncing to the floor while he smoothly inserted a new one. He ejected that one as well, pulling back on the charging handle to show a clear chamber before letting the bolt run forward. He flipped the weapon around and offered it to Mac.

[Vegas]

15:13:11 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - 5420 Mont Clair Blvd, Redmond, Seattle

Having a decision made that neither of the men argued with felt good to Mac. There was something exciting about watching Locus place the Browning in the case and snap it shut. Her hands were already missing the feel and comfort of the grip. Mac shook out her arms a touch before she took the next weapon from Kovacs. Muscles learning new ways to move and the recoil from the pistols were causing a deep ache to begin to come to the surface and pull some more of her focus.

When she had the P93 in her hands it just looked and felt menacing. She gave it a quick once over, noting the magazine release as Kovacs had described. Even with the submachine gun’s internal compensation, the recoil was enough to push her off balance when she pulled the trigger and she quickly shifted more of her limited weight to her back leg to keep from losing control.

It didn’t take her long to burn through the magazine, hesitating only a moment before her thumb brushed over the release and the magazine clattered to the floor. She didn’t give a drek if she was anywhere near on target, that would come with time and a lot of practice. Right now the experience and the rush it provided was enough.

She turned back to face Kovacs, the P93 pointed towards the ground. Her dark eyes glittered in the low light and a dangerous smile played on her lips.

“Rifles next?”

[grendel]

15:18:36 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - 5420 Mont Clair Blvd, Redmond, Seattle

"Yes, rifles next," said Kovacs, arching a brow at Mac's intensity. He didn't comment on it further, though, exiting the soundlock and gesturing for her to place the P93 back on the counter. Locus picked up the submachinegun, opening the bolt to verify it was clear, before sending it forward on the empty chamber.

"Standard work-up?" he asked Kovacs, who nodded in return. The elf printed out a barcode tag from the workstation behind the counter, affixing it to the buttstock of the P93 before carrying the weapon into the workshop in back. Mac glanced at Kovacs.

"He'll replace the standard white light flashlight with a low-light version, add the internal smartlink, as well as adding a muzzle break that will help compensate for recoil. It's about a three day work up. We'll have to leave your pistol with him as well, since it needs a smartlink and to have the barrel threaded for a silencer."

He picked up the Ares Alpha that was resting on the counter, again locking the bolt to the rear in order to verify the chamber was clear.

"This is the Ares Alpha Combat Gun, pretty much the premier assault rifle to be found on today's battlefield. It's a select fire, gas operated, shoulder fired weapon that features a bullpup design that decreases the overall length of the weapon while still allowing for a full length barrel. It comes integral with an internal smartgun system and a magazine fed underbarrel grenade launcher."

Tapping the bolt release, Kovacs pressed down on the rear takedown stud, pulling out the captive pin as far as it would go and swinging up the upper assembly.

"The bolt features an extra linkage that drives a vertical cam pin in addition to the horizontal cam which unlocks and allows the weapon to function. This vertical pin is attached to a hydraulic piston. When activated, it compresses the piston, damping part of the recoil impulse and making the weapon 'sit down' into your shoulder."

Kovacs mated the upper receiver to the lower again, reinserting the pin, before pulling back on the handguard retention nut and prying the top guard free.

"The weapon features a self-regulating short stroke piston operation that's suitable for both suppressed and unsuppressed firing."

As he explained, he pointed to the piston op-rod, spring, and piston cup. Mac nodded, only now starting to realize just how much Kovacs knew about his business.

"All right, let's go to work."

Having been forewarned by the P93's recoil, Mac got up behind the Alpha right away. She knew enough to snug the weapon into her shoulder pocket, but the recoil was still a jarring surprise. As was the muzzle blast, shockingly loud inside the narrow range. After a series of single shots for her to get the feel of the weapon, Kovacs had her switch up to three round bursts. This time the hammering pulse was even more intense, but somehow magnitudes more satisfying. Mac's face was a tight rictus as she blazed away with the rifle, the paper target downrange shredding into confetti. The bolt locked back on an empty magazine, and she glanced over at Kovacs.

"So do I get to try the grenade launcher, too?"

He took the rifle from her, checking the chamber by rote memory. "No."

[Vegas]

15:20:57 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - 5420 Mont Clair Blvd, Redmond, Seattle

Mac pursed her lips for an instant as she watched Kovacs' face as he cleared and checked the rifle. Cold and impassive she waited for him to turn his back on her before she winced slightly. The recoil from the rifle stock had done a number on her still sore right shoulder where it had met with the wall just a few days prior. She rolled it a few times forward and back as she followed Kovacs out of the shooting lane.

"So what exactly do you have planned for me next Kovacs?" 

Her voice was a soft purr as the pair made their way up to the counter where Locus was kitting up the bits and pieces needed to make the alterations to her future weapons.

[Mach_Ten]

08:20:07 Tuesday, 09 January 2063 - apartment 1313 @ 508 NE 97th Pl, Redmond, Seattle

*Bang* *Bang* *Bang* "misstah Rembrandt!" ..... The paper thin walls of the apartment reverberate with each pounding fist on the door
as the tiny asian woman tries to get the slumbering occupants attention. *Bang* *Bang* *Bang* "MISSTAH Rembrandt!..."

Remy opens his eyes wide in horror as sweat pours down his back from a night spent wrestling with the lumpy mattress that afforded him very little sleep.
Now, to top off his ugly mood he has to contend with the thought that what he thought happened yesterday was just a dream

It seems to him now that it's entirely plausible, being drawn into a web of mystery and deception with strange beautiful women and even stranger groups of dangerous looking men, tracking devices and private investigators. Yup! totally dreamed all that drekk up ! he smiles at the thought and swings his legs from the bed onto the floor strewn with clothing and scans for something remotely clean.

*Bang* *Bang* *Bang* "MISSTAH Rembrandt!... Your Unkah Danneh, he say you LATE... again! "

the cries at the door and incessant pounding send a shockwave down his spine turning the river of sweat into a sheen of ice that makes his skin tingle "......again?" he mutters quietly to himself as the feeling of de ja vu overwhlems him, "Aww Drek, not a dream ... Frag, the swap meet!" still talking to himself under his breath he rustles through the piles of garments before finding a black tee with a bright red Ork-Smiley face on it and some black cargo pants.
"Coming Missus Akira!...." he calls out, then trying to catch her off guard he yells "No, I didn't fix the VCR yet ... need some parts!" but it falls on deaf ears, apparently she has already departed. "Drekkin' ninjas" he mumbles grumpily, glancing at the door nervous just in case she hears him with her super powers.

Fully dressed, he races for the door then turns and rummages on the floor again for his disgarded jacket and more importantly the bike keys, locating them he throws the door open and once more passing the slowest turbo-lift in UCAS he takes the stairs four or five at a time on the way down, boots thumping heavily and echoing down the bare plas-crete stairwell. On the way he manicly taps out a message first to Danny on his comm,

"Hoi, Boss man, just stuck in traffic on the 'Five' I'll be there asap, where we meeting that chummer for breakfast ?"

that one sent, patting his pockets for the contact card, another one to Joslyn.

"Hoi Joslyn, just had to run some errands for the Boss, running late in this drekkin' weather, where you at?"

Hoping that the little white lie about his tardyness will slip by, he throws on his helmet and drags the bike out of the shed into the grey morning and mutters a silent prayer to the machine god before trying to start her up.

[grendel]

08:42:18 Tuesday, 09 January 2063 - Danny's Pawn and Loan, 15710 SE Newport Way, Bellvue, Seattle

Rembrandt had one leg over his bike when his commlink buzzed with an incoming message. He sat first, firing up the motorcycle to get some warmth going. The skies were still gray and overcast, although the snow seemed to have abated overnight it was still bitterly cold. He rubbed his gloved hands together before checking the text.

Haven't heard from the guy yet, but come into the shop. We'll wait here or leave from here if we don't hear from him.

Remy shrugged, easy enough. He revved the engine, dropping the bike into gear and pulling out into traffic. Luckily the plows had been out overnight, and the streets were mostly clear. Still treacherous, but mostly clear. Twenty minutes later he was pulling up into the lot behind his uncle's shop, eager to get inside and warm back up.

[grendel]

15:29:07 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - 5420 Mont Clair Blvd, Redmond, Seattle

"Well, we should be able to head over to Shatter now and get your bike out of parking. It'll be open by the time we get there. And there's just one more stop to make. Locus is a firearm wizard, but if you want weapons of a more personal violence, well, you have to go somewhere else."

The elf glanced up at their approach, listening to the conversation and nodding in agreement. Kovacs locked the Alpha's bolt to the rear before handing the weapon to Locus, who checked the chamber before sending the bolt home.

"Airburst link and gas vent?" he asked. Kovacs nodded, producing a certified credstick. "I need a thousand rounds for all types, EX explosive."

Locus nodded, his fingers dancing over the keyboard of the register. "I'll have everything ready by the end of the week. Thirty five, four hundred."

Kovacs nodded, slotting the credstick to deduct the required amount while Mac felt her jaw drop.

He just spent thirty five thousand nuyen as if it were nothing!

Locus offered a receipt and Kovacs accepted with a slight nod, before gesturing Mac out of the store ahead of him. The bitter wind was waiting for them, and they hustled into the cab of the Range Rover. Kovacs pointed the vehicle north, and headed out onto the roads.

[Vegas]

15:41:21 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - 5420 Mont Clair Blvd, Redmond, Seattle

Mac barely remembered the walk from the counter to outside until the bitter sting of the cold wind hit her face. Gone was the feeling of the rush of having just expended so many rounds through various weapons. Even her eagerness to make it to their next stop, assuming she’d be in familiar territory looking and blades and edged weapons, had disappeared. It had been replaced with a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach the moment Locus had given Kovacs the total and he handed it over like it was nothing.

She’d never been in debt to someone like this, to this extent before. She closed her eyes against the thought, bile threatening to creep up her throat as the feeling of being in so far over her head threatened to consume her right there in the front seat. The amount she now owed Kovacs made the almost 5k she would owe Wayne in less than 36 hours seem like a cake walk.

Now it was all she could do to keep her head above water. Her demeanor had done a 180 since they left Locus’ shop and she sat impassively staring out the window, far too calm for her own good with her fear and desperation threatening to break the surface if she continued to let herself dwell on the situation. Instead she just watched the world race past her out the window.

[DeliciousD]

05:00:05 Tuesday, 09 January 2063 - First Hill Apartments, 1030c East Terrace Street, Seattle

Waking moments before his alarm went off, Joslyn had hopped out of bed in the pre-dawn dark...dark being a relative term in Seattle, the light spilling in from streetlamps and brightly lit advertisements was enough to see by even without the help of the sun.

He spent a good few hours on his regular morning routine...he set a pot of soycaf on the go before showering and flicking on the news, leaving it on as he checked on the plants, pruning here and there and repotting several of the larger plants.

As the sun finally made it's appearance, Joslyn was browsing the matrix, checking his regular sites for new developments in the security biz, there was rarely anything of note and today was no exception, a couple of maglock glitches that had been discovered...he and Andy had forced those errors about six months back and he suspected a few warehouses by the docks were low on inventory because of it.

His reading done, he checked his calendar and jotted down a couple of clients that needed wards renewing. He attached the list and sent a message to Sinead

Good morning my dear, just two jobs today...remember to smile.

Joslyn put down the commlink and finally went to get dressed...he was halfway through putting on one of his nicer suits when he remembered where he was going, he quickly undressed and checked the bottom of the wardrobe for scruffier clothes. As much as it pained him to do so, he pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, both with some oil stains and small tears in them, he rummaged for a while before finding an older jacket...pulling it on, he glanced at himself in the full length mirror and frowned, he looked terrible...perfect for Redmond.

Returning to the lounge, he noticed a message waiting from the Ork he'd met yesterday and quickly typed a response

I'll head over now, should be there by 9:00.

He considered taking the Spiral but decided against it, best to keep a low profile. He ordered a taxi and drank another cup of Soycaf as he waited for it to arrive.


09:10:18 Tuesday, 09 January 2063 - Danny's Pawn and Loan, 15710 SE Newport Way, Bellvue, Seattle

He had regretted his choice of clothes as soon as he'd left the apartment and made a mental note to dirty up some warmer things for future use.

The taxi was late and the slow drive was filled with a long tirade against winter in general, Joslyn nodded his agreement as they bumped and slid along but even if he'd wanted to agree vocally, the taxi driver didn't let him get a word in edgewise.

As the cab pulled up outside Danny's Pawn and Loan, Joslyn was faced with a genuinely new experience, being glad to step out into the cold. He smiled politely enough and gave the cabbie a small tip before hurrying into the shop.

"Morning gents, sorry for the delay," he shivered the words out "I could do with something hot in my belly, you know anywhere decent around here?"

[Mach_Ten]

08:52:18 Tuesday, 09 January 2063 - Danny's Pawn and Loan, 15710 SE Newport Way, Bellvue, Seattle

The warm air of the office hits him full in the face like a blast from a furnace as he enters the office and removes his helmet and jacket and hangs them on his usual peg.
Taking his time he stretches his arms wide to release the tension from his aching muscles after the ride into town and to wake himself up this early in the morning.

"Heys, unkah, you gots da soy-kaf on yet?" He asks as he falls heavily into his chair and prods at the VCR in front of him with a screwdriver.

Just then the buzzer goes as Joslyn enters the front door

"Hey , good timing, was just askin 'bout breaksfasts too!.. Wheres we goin Danny?"

[grendel]

08:54:23 Tuesday, 09 January 2063 - Danny's Pawn and Loan, 15710 SE Newport Way, Bellvue, Seattle

Danny finishes locking up the front of the store.

"There's a cafe I know on the way, it's the perfect place. Hop in, we'll take the company car."

He slides into the front seat of the Gaz-Willys Nomad, firing up the heavy diesel engine and turning on the heaters. Remy climbs into the passenger seat while Josslyn has the bench seat in the back all to himself. A heavy neo-tribal beat comes booming out of the speakers as Danny points the vehicle towards Redmond.

09:41:36 Tuesday, 09 January 2063 - Flying J Truck Stop, Exit 18, Hwy 202, Redmond, Seattle

When the truck initially pulled up in front of the diner portion of the Truck Stop, neither Remy nor Josslyn put much stock in Danny's claim that it was 'the best breakfast north of Sea-Tac' and that the restaurant was a 'diamond in the rough'. After plowing through plates of scrambled eggs, sausage links, home fries, ham steaks, pancakes, and muffins, at least Remy had to agree with his uncle's assessment. Josslyn remained unconvinced, but was still impressed by both the quantity and quality.

Conversation around the breakfast table was sparse, the hour was early and nothing new had emerged since the three previous met. Remy told a boisterous tale about the shenanigans the previous evening, his uncle shaking his head at the youthful exuberance. Josslyn just laughed. By then it was time to get back on the road.

10:05:14 Tuesday, 09 January 2063 - The Emporium, 8047 Fall City Road, Redmond, Seattle

Everyone who's anyone knows of The Emporium, the vast, sprawling warehouse of eclectic first and second-hand goods in Redmond. Conventional logic held that if you looked hard enough and long enough that you would find what you needed at The Emporium no matter what. As long as you weren't looking for a weapon or a vehicle. Everything else might be had amongst the long tables piled high with random and barely sorted items. In the back of the warehouse was a vast space reserved for swap meet sales. Anyone could bring a table in, set up their wares, and haggle with customers. Amidst this varied and colorful crowd one was more likely to find individual craftsmen, offering unique materials for sale.

Despite having only opened an hour earlier, already two thirds of the floorspace is spoken for when Danny, Remy and Josslyn walk in.

[grendel]

15:57:06 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - northbound Hwy 9, Redmond, Seattle

After a few minutes of driving in silence, with only the dim mutterings of the radio and the rush of highway traffic around them, Kovacs glanced over at Mac.

"You're worried about the money," he stated flatly, his eyes scanning the road ahead and behind them. "Don't be. Money comes and goes. Don't ever get used to hanging on to it. The important thing is to identify the most reliable tools for the job. The tools that are going to function at one hundred percent for one hundred percent of the time. This is what you spend money on. The tools that keep you alive."

They passed a trio of slow moving Ares Roadmasters, all dressed in the bright blue and white NeoNET livery.

"Now that you are working with me, now that you're going to be on a job with me, there will come a time that my life depends on you. It will depend on your skills and the tools in your hands. I'm going to teach you the necessary skills. And I have already begun to equip you with the best tools. Because I want you to have the best chance of success when it comes to saving my life."

[Vegas]

16:03:21 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Northbound Hwy 9, Redmond, Seattle

Mac let his words sink in, and if it were possible she would have blanched a whiter shade of pale. She had never had that kind of responsibility placed on her shoulders, keeping someone else alive. Sure, she could take care of herself just fine under most circumstances, none of them nearly as lethal as the situations she was destined to find herself in with Kovacs in the future.

“Yes I’m worried about the money Kovacs. I’ve always been worried about money.” Her voice was distant as she came to grips with her new reality.

She came to the realization that life with this man was going to be a series of extremes. From the way he looked at her and could strip her down to something beyond naked when they were together, to the intensity of what it felt like to owe so much to him already without even having begun. She owed him her life already, what was 40 grand on top of that and counting. She turned her face away from the window to watch him and study his face, seeking any subtext or a way to read him. He continued to drive to their next destination, his face impassive and unreadable. Blank like the cool grey of his eyes.

“It’s just a lot to take in, and I just need time to adjust. To come to terms with it all, I can’t go from on my back to Mach Four in under 30 seconds. Not yet.”

[grendel]

16:05:14 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Northbound Hwy 9, Redmond, Seattle

"It's good that you're anticipating being able to, because there will come a time when you have to."

Kovacs nods to show that he understands her position.

"The learning curve is steep, I know. But everyone starts at the bottom. Don't get overwhelmed looking ten or twenty steps ahead. Look four steps ahead. That's usually enough to outmaneuver anyone. Most people can think two steps ahead, a few, three. Very few can successfully anticipate four moves ahead. That's where you want to live."

[Vegas]

16:06:57 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Northbound Hwy 9, Redmond, Seattle

Mac let out a soft laugh that came out more bitter than she intended before she reigned it in.

“Definitely not four steps ahead, yet.”

There was that word coming from her lips again. “Yet.” Such a powerful little word wrapped in so much hope and sugar-coated promises. The reality of what laid before her was dark, ugly and she imagined it was only going to get worse before it got better.

“Let me figure out the answers to Thursday morning and then I can start thinking four steps beyond that.”