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

[Slipshade]

09:00:05 Monday 08 January 2063 - 6 Bellevue Way, One Lincoln Tower - 41st Floor – Penthouse

Knowing he would be getting his hands dirty, Max throws on a pair of boots beat up denim jeans and a long-sleeve, black Futura shirt and black soft leather gloves. Figuring on heading to the meet after his day at the Respite is done, Max packs a nice beige pair of Zoe’ slacks with a matching sports coat and black sweater in a travel bag alone with a pair of black dress shoes. Max slings the bag over his shoulder and grabs his ID off of the mahogany end table before entering the foyer and punching his passcode into the elevator keypad. A few seconds later the elevator doors open. Max enters his private elevator and places his hand on the palm pad.

“Good morning Mr. Steiner,” a soft feminine voice emanates from the elevator speakers. Max had never physically met the security rigger, but her voice was wonderful. “Good morning Roxy. How is everything?”

“Boring as usual Sir, just the way we like it,” Roxy replies in a playful tone.

Max appreciated their little conversations, since he absolutely hated elevator rides. It wasn’t that he was claustrophobic, it was just being incased in cold, dead metal. The only astral presence, his own. It just feels uncomfortable.

The ride doesn’t take long and the elevator doors whoosh open revealing the underground parking garage.

“Have a good day, Mr. Steiner.”

“You as well, Roxy.”

[grendel]

11:57:15 Monday January 08, 2063 - Cooper's Automotive, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

Again, the pale-eyed man tilts his head to the side, considering Marquis' counter-offer.

"That is acceptable. I can deliver the parts to any location you specify. How soon can you begin work?"

[bclements]

21:52:09 Monday 8 January 2063 - Exxon-Mobil station, Corner of West Van Medter and 30th Street, Seattle, UCAS

Tony approaches the man, continuning to scan discretely at obvious sniper positions. Picking them out in the wind-whipped snow and reflected light was almost an exercise in futility, though. Even keeping his eyes on a location for enough time to determine anything was difficult in these conditions. If that's the Johnson, then he's either stupid or daring someone to kill him. I don't know which is worse. This is a perfect place for a hit Tony thought to himself. Stopping a few feet from the man, Tony clinches his teeth and gets ready for business. "Mr. Johnson, I presume?" Tony asks while getting a face-full of secondhand smoke.

[grendel]

21:53:20 Monday 8 January 2063 - Exxon-Mobil station, Corner of West Van Medter and 30th Street, Seattle, UCAS

The man takes another drag on his cigarette before exhaling to the side. He knocks the ash from the end with a careless gesture as his eyes rake over Tony. Finally, after another long drag, he flicks the cigarette away into the shadows.

"Radian."

He motions towards the boarded up gas station.

"Step into my office."

Someone inside opens the door as the two men approach, but the interior remains dark until they are both through, and the worn plastic panel is closed again. Only then does someone unshutter a portable lantern. The light provided is dim and red, barely enough to see by, but it won't interfere with anyone's night adapted vision nor is it likely to be seen from outside. Four other figures crouch within the abandoned gas station. All of them wear hooded insulated ponchos, white with digital gray camouflage. Beneath the winter wear, Tony catches a glimpse of black and gray patterned urban camouflage jumpsuits, tac vests, and suppressed submachineguns. Radian takes his hat off, brushing snow from the shoulders of his longcoat. Tony blinks in some surprise at the face revealed. The flesh of his face is covered in scars and patches of too-smooth skin indicative of vat-grown replacement. The scars begin on the left side of his chin and travel outward in straight lines that disappear beneath his hairline. Extensive reconstructive surgery has obviously already been completed, but it looks as if the cosmetic reconstruction was stopped halfway through. The result is nothing short of horrific. Tony wonders briefly at the state of mind of the individual who would chose to wear a mask such as that. Radian smiles, a gesture which twists his face into a gruesome facsimile of the expression.

"Don't look so surprised, you're off the map now, omae, here there be monsters. But the job isn't difficult. A day and a night. I've got a couple of packages which need to be delivered to a dock in Everett. The truck is parked in the garage. You drive it out of here, sit on it for twenty four hours, drive it to Warehouse 414B at the Everett docks tomorrow night at midnight, and I pay you 3000 :nuyen:. We have a deal?"

[bclements]

21:55:57 Monday 8 January 2063 - Exxon-Mobil station, Corner of West Van Medter and 30th Street, Seattle, UCAS

Wierd people on the streets. Well, they're not on the streets anymore. They're right in front of me and I'm way outgunned. And Scarface here wants something I'm not here to do. That flask sounds really good right now, Tony thought to himself.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding. I'm supposed to be here for bodyguard duty, not as a postman. I can be a postman, but I'll want more than 3000 nuyen for that. Also, if you want me to haul stuff, I'll need some more info on the cargo. "Tony said to Radianwith a lot more confidance than he felt. 5 guys? Submachine Guns? No fraggin way I'm doing anything other than talking my way out of this. At least I didn't drive. Keeping his hands at his side and staring at Radian with a gleam of annoyance in his eyes and voice that didn't match the feeling in his stomach, Tony waited for a response, spoken or not.

[grendel]

21:56:11 Monday 8 January 2063 - Exxon-Mobil station, Corner of West Van Medter and 30th Street, Seattle, UCAS

Radian flicked his left hand, as if to brush aside Tony's concerns.

"Bodyguard, escort, delivery boy, same thing. I pay, you play. 3K is the going rate for a cake job like this. Why should I pay you more when I've done all the work for you? The cargo's inert, pre-packaged, sealed, and signed for. Just don't go nosing around in the rear compartment and everything will be fine."

[bclements]

21:57:51 Monday 8 January 2063 - Exxon-Mobil station, Corner of West Van Medter and 30th Street, Seattle, UCAS

"Fine, show me the truck, and I hope to God you don't need a rig to run this thing. Or else you really are going to need someone else. Anything I need to know if the Star pulls me over or if summer breaks out tomorrow?" Tony said with a mirthless smile. Where the hell am I going to hide a truck?

[grendel]

21:58:04 Monday 8 January 2063 - Exxon-Mobil station, Corner of West Van Medter and 30th Street, Seattle, UCAS

Radian laughs, a rasping, brutal sound.

"Don't sweat it, I told you I had everything covered. It's a standard Ford Workhorse with an enclosed cargo bed. The cargo is marked as foodstuffs, if anyone asks, just tell 'em you're on your way to a BBQ."

He moves to the connected garage, opening the door to reveal a beige Ford Workhorse parked next to an idling Ares Roadmaster.

"Keys are in it."

[bclements]

22:00:10 Monday 8 January 2063 - Exxon-Mobil station, Corner of West Van Medter and 30th Street, Seattle, UCAS

"Half now, half on delivery, and don't give me any lines about delivery-boy vs bodyguard. That part isn't negoiatiable. And at least 20% extra for expenses, if needed and proved upon delivery." Tony said. Remembering a line from an old movie about something like this, he added "Anything I need to know about the truck? Break lights out, GridGuide corrupted, Star knows this truck, stole it from the Yaks? I get this bad boy out on the road, and anything happens, I need to know that. I may know of people that can get rid of that stuff, but they don't get by on a smile, kay?"

[grendel]

22:00:49 Monday 8 January 2063 - Exxon-Mobil station, Corner of West Van Medter and 30th Street, Seattle, UCAS

"Truck is factory standard, clean record, legitimate VIN, plates, and registration...." Radian is about to say something else when one of the white ponchoed men leans through the door.

"Boss, Wheels says we have hostiles moving up, crossing three hundred meters." He holds out a submachinegun, butt first. Radian snatches the weapon, not bothering to cycle the bolt to check the load since his smartgun link performs that function automatically. He turns back to Tony, tossing him a credstick and moving to the garage door.

"Fifteen hundred plus expenses. Get that truck out of here. NOW." He throws the garage door open, as two of the men in ponchoes duck out the back.

[Bastard]

1158 Monday January 08, 2063 - Cooper's Automotive, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

"I can start as soon as you can bring them to me. I will be here for two or three hours. Or you can bring it by tomorrow morning around eight."

[grendel]

11:58:35 Monday January 08, 2063 - Cooper's Automotive, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

The pale-eyed man nods, reaching in to his attache case for a certified credstick.

"My associates will be by in an hour with the parts. Here is the agreed upon fee."

He nods his head slightly, before putting his sunglasses back on.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Cooper."

[grendel]

10:03:40 Monday 08 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma

With a tired sigh, Todd leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. His eyes were bloodshot and the lids felt as if they were made of sandpaper. The sunlight streaming into the apartment through the cracks in the blinds didn’t help, either. A glance at the master chronograph on his display confirmed that thirty two hours had passed since he began the extensive information search. At last he had the answers he was looking for, although he had to admit that they offered only additional questions.

The troll’s name was Crash, and although it sounded like a street handle, it appeared on all of his records starting back with his first juvenile conviction for battery. That was sixteen years ago, when Crash was only eight. His early years were spent drifting from foster home to foster home, involved in a gang called Burndown. Most of his juvenile convictions stem from that, minor stuff that saw him doing two weeks to three months in various detention centers. As his street education progressed, though, so did his criminal exploits. Several drug charges appear on his record, as well as armed robbery and auto theft. The last entry in his Lone Star record, though, was what sent him away for three and a half years: assault with a deadly weapon, kidnapping, and armed robbery. He was paroled early for good behavior, and seems to have had something of a revelation while in prison.

When Crash got out of jail eighteen months ago, he sought out and joined a small church group in northern downtown called The Church of the Lord’s Way. Crash apparently worked as some kind of missionary or relief worker for the church, although not in the traditional sense. Crash and a team of five other individuals were responsible for several “Robin Hood” type shadowruns which seemed to benefit various people around the metroplex. They shut down a brothel that the Mafia was operating which employed underage girls. They destroyed a Terra First! cell which was operating in Puyallup. A vicious street gang charging protection for local merchants was burned out of its safehouse. The last mention of the team is just over a year ago, something about an operation against Novatech where the team was betrayed by someone else inside the Church. In the resulting firefight, half the team was killed along with the informant, and the church building burned to the ground. Since then, Crash has been off the grid, probably lying low and waiting for any residual heat left to blow over.

Lone Star’s records are pitifully incomplete, listing no next of kin, or home address, or any details of schooling. The name Crash is only associated with the criminal SIN assigned by Lone Star, so Todd is unable to utilize population statistics or demographics to assist in the search for any of Crash’s family. His medical record really wasn’t much of a help either. Somewhere along the way he’d picked up a datajack, some headware memory, a math SPU, although only a rating 1, and a second-hand cyber-forearm with a cyberdeck already built in. Todd thought the last part was a sign of clinical insanity.

In the end, the questions he had about the troll’s identity had been answered, but that didn’t solve the greater mystery of what he’d been doing at the apartment building, nor why he was so brutally gunned down.

Cross checking with information about the Church of the Lord's Way provided no additional information, either. Started two years ago by an ex-shadow runner named Gabriel, it operated on a shoe-string budget and offered the usual comforts of food and shelter to those less fortunate on the streets. The actual faith practiced at the Church appears to be a modified Unitarian approach, more common these days in the smaller denominations. It was registered as a legitimate faith with the UCAS government. No mention is made of any of Crash's fellow teammates, or what happened to them after that fateful night.

[Bastard]

1159 Monday January 08, 2063 - Cooper's Automotive, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

"Thank you, the same to you sir."

Marquis watches the man leave, then returns to the garage to assist Chavez. What a strange guy, but I guess we all are.

"Well lets get to work then."

[bclements]

22:01:35 Monday 8 January 2063 - Exxon-Mobil station, Corner of West Van Medter and 30th Street, Seattle, UCAS

Pocketing the credstick with his left hand and drawing his Browning with his right in one smooth motion, Tony moves toward the drivers side door of the truck. "Which way are they coming from?" he asks Radian as he chambers a round.

[grendel]

22:01:41 Monday 8 January 2063 - Exxon-Mobil station, Corner of West Van Medter and 30th Street, Seattle, UCAS

Gunfire snaps in the night, muzzle flashes reflecting brightly off the blowing snow. The submachineguns are caseless and suppressed, their three round bursts nothing more than a sharp rattle. Louder reports sound from the rear of the building, and a bullet whines peevishly overhead.

"Threat axis 110! We'll cover you. Move!" Radian has his weapon butted against his shoulder, turning to shout at Tony before facing the oncoming hostile force. The engine growl from the Ares Roadmaster parked next to the Workhorse deepens, and somewhere outside the heavy hammer of an automatic weapon opens up.

[Slipshade]

09:05:26 Monday 08 January 2063 – I450, Highway 520 Interchange

Minutes later Max was speeding along the I450. Luckily traffic heading into the barrens is light and by the time he turns his midnight blue Westwind onto Highway 520 towards Touristville he has a majority of the road to himself. Max pulls off the 520 at the NE. 24th Street Exit and heads east.

09:10:18 Monday 08 January 2063 – Redmond - Touristville - The Respite Soup Kitchen on the corner of NE 24th Street and 156th Ave NE

Located one block from the old Eastside Hospital and two blocks from the old Microdeck Campus, The Respite soup kitchen does a brisk business. There is no shortage of sinless and hungry, even in the Touristville district of Redmond.

Max parks his Westwind in a side alley next to The Respite and exits the vehicle, his foot splashing in a large puddle left over from last evenings storm. The rainbow hue of oily asphalt mixed with a toxic green swirl of astral warping was almost nauseating to look at. It wasn’t always easy for him here. The astral haze of despair and desperation usually gave him a splitting headache, but his headache was a minor inconvienience compared to the problems that the SINless that visited the Respite on a daily bases faced everyday.

Pushing away the pain in his head, Max reaches out to the presence that he knows is lurking nearby.

“I know your there Gloom. I could use your help if you don’t mind.”

The shadowy figure of an old homeless man, seems to materialize from behind a dumpster farther down the alley. As he approaches it is readily apparent that there is something very different about this old timer. His clothes were not out of the ordinary for a homeless man they consist of a mish-mash of rags and thrown away clothing. A long patchwork coat covers his slouching shoulders. I was his face that is odd. His skin looks like cracked asphalt and his eyes are the color of the oily puddle Max had just stepped in. His long white hair, beard and mustache are wisps of smoke, like the steam that issued forth from a sewer manhole on a cold morning.

“That you Professor?” The spirits voice, much deeper than the voice of a man the age it appeared, rumbles dully, like the sound of a big rig passing under your window at night.

“It’s me Gloom. How have you been lately?” Max replied.

“Couldn’t be any worse,” Gloom replied. Max could almost swear he saw the hint of a smile tug at the ever-present frown on Gloom's lips.

[bclements]

22:02:01 Monday 8 January 2063 - Exxon-Mobil station, Corner of West Van Medter and 30th Street, Seattle, UCAS

Tony gets in the truck, ducking at the high whining sound of another heavy caliber round passing close overhead. Starting the truck up and hitting the Auto-Down on the driver's side window, Tony slinkes low in the seat. Keeping the lights off, he eases the truck out onto Van Medter, turning right as soon as he gets to the street. Staying low in the seat, driving with one hand and holding the Browning ready in his left, Tony thinks to himself Snow on the road. Don't accelerate too fast or break too quickly, and I may just make it out of this. Of course, one stray round to the tire would just ruin my day, noticing the thudding/tearing sound of automatic weapons increasing in frequency.

[WinterRat1]

09:10:28 Monday 08 January 2063 – Redmond - Touristville - The Respite Soup Kitchen on the corner of NE 24th Street and 156th Ave NE

"Actually," Gloom's frown deepens. "Things could get a lot worse, very quickly Professor. I suggest you do the right thing immediately."

"What's that Gloom?" Max asks, puzzled.

'Disappearing' back into the alley, Gloom whispers as he fades away, "Get the hell under cover."

In the wake of the spirit's hasty exit, Max senses only impending violence in the air...but to whom? And where?

[grendel]

1305 Monday January 08, 2063 - Cooper's Automotive, Downtown Seattle, UCAS


After an hour's work, Marquis hears a horn sound from out front. Standing outside is a commercial courier with a meter and a half long circular plastic shipping tube.

"Hey, delivery for the auto shop. Need your John Hancock right here." He offers the portable datapad.

[grendel]

22:07:44 Monday 8 January 2063 - Exxon-Mobil station, Corner of West Van Medter and 30th Street, Seattle, UCAS

As the battle in the streets of the Barrens fades behind him, Tony relaxes minutely. Embraced by the streetlights and traffic of Seattle proper, he feels marginally safer. But the questions remain, who is Radian working for? Why would they fight to defend it? It must be valuable to someone, because they sent someone willing to kill to get it back.

[Bastard]

1307 Monday January 08, 2063 - Cooper's Automotive, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

Marquis grabs a rag and wipes away some of the grease before jogging out to the truck. He grabs the pad, scribbles some illegible lines, circles and dots, then thanks the man for the package.

Returning to the shop he tears open one end to take a look inside.

[grendel]

13:07:50 Monday January 08, 2063 - Cooper's Automotive, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

The barrel revealed is massive, a full 115 cm of hammer forged chrome-moly steel. The upper receiver appears to be machined from a single billet of high strength aluminum, reinforced with titanium inserts along the breech. The bolt carrier group has been removed from the weapon. The end of the barrel features a horizontal tubular flash suppressor and muzzle brake. The serial numbers on all of the weapon parts have been abraded off, then re-etched to eliminate the possibility of acid reconstruction.

[bclements]

22:08:15 Monday 8 January 2063 - Exxon-Mobil station, Corner of West Van Medter and 30th Street, Seattle, UCAS

Hitting the auto up on the window and putting the gun away, Tony takes a second to come up with a plan. I need a place to stash this truck and take a look at the “food” in the back. I need bigger guns. And I need to find out who Scarface and his friends were back there, and why people are trying to kill him, and now me. And I need a fraggin drink!.

Pulling out his psec, he calls Zeyda’s drop. “Its Tony. We need to talk omae, like right now”. Hanging up and calling Sam. “It’s Tony. Get me a double-shot of the good stuff and a coffee. And ask Rebecca if she knows of anyone she can trust with a garage. I'll be there in about 20 to 30 minutes. ”

Hanging up, Tony sits more upright in the truck,cranks up the heater, and heads for his apartment for some more guns, the wind buffetting the truck as it continues on the snowy road.

[grendel]

22:22:31 Monday 8 January 2063 - Capitol Hill Terrace Apartments, Seattle, UCAS

As Tony pulls up in the alleyway behind his apartment, his P-sec vibrates with an incoming call. Zeyda doesn't pass a visual component on his transmissions, but the caller ID checks good.

"Hey, what's up?"