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

[Slipshade]

01:17:55 Tuesday 09 January 2063- Practical Applications Clinic – Administrator’s Office

Professor nods in understanding and watches Iris with concern, watching her aura for any sign of trouble.

[grendel]

12:30:05 Thursday 11 January 2063 - Sea-Tac International Airport, Long Term Parking Terminal, Seattle, UCAS

While Marquis' first shot goes wide, his second finds the mark. The target slumps behind the column.

[Shadow]

22:00:44 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Westminster Apt Complex, South Seattle


This might be Arizona Marshal, but we still have justice here.
Yea, well you can hang your justice, and I will dispense mine.

Ivan chuckled as the scene unfolded. Hang em High was one of his favorites. He could probably say the movie beginning to end. The makeshift chair he was sitting on crumpled somewhat as he relaxed and started to fall asleep. Visions of horses large enough to carry his immense frame filled his head.

[bclements]

08:00:00 Wednesday 10 January 2063 - Westminster Apt Complex, South Seattle

Ivan is woken up by a chime on his phone. Reaching over to it, he pulls up the text message indicated by the chime, face washed over by the green and blue static image from the old Fuchi trideo set.

[grendel]

12:30:07 Thursday 11 January 2063 - Sea-Tac International Airport, Long Term Parking Terminal, Seattle, UCAS

Marquis catches motion out of the corner of his eye to the right, turning too late. The woman in red bursts from between the cars at a full run, her weapon shouldered. The muzzle flashes are bright in the dimness of the parking garage as she snaps out a pair of three round bursts against the kneeling runner. Tony pans his muzzle to the south, the last of his suppressive fire sparking from the concrete walls of the garage. A shadow, darker against the dark haze of the obscuring smoke, breaks from cover among the cars to the sheltering bulk of the concrete support pillar.

[WinterRat1]

01:18:10 Tuesday 09 January 2063- Practical Applications Clinic – Administrator’s Office

The seconds tick by, seeming like a lifetime is going by with each one. Tyler’s voice comes over the radio, “I called the wheels boss, they’ll be waiting for us up front when it’s time to go.”

Tersely, Scrapheap simply answered, “Acknowledged.”

Suddenly, literally about 5 seconds before he was about to pull Iris out, she jacks out and immediately starts throwing up on the floor. “I…got…most…of…it…took the IC…guess…I’m paying…for it now…” she manages to get out between heaves. “Help… me grab… the deck…time…to go…”

[Slipshade]

01:18:25 Tuesday 09 January 2063- Practical Applications Clinic – Administrator’s Office

Professor grabs the deck and stuffs it in the bag Iris had carried with her. Moving as quickly as he can he grabs her around the waist and throws her left arm over his shoulder to help her stand. Then looks to Scrapheap for direction.

[Scrapheap]

01:18:29 Tuesday 09 January 2063- Practical Applications Clinic – Administrator’s Office

Iris was still in mid-wretch when Professor leapt to his feet and began wildly packing her gear. Without turning to look, Scrapheap barked, "Get her out now! I'll grab her stuff and meet you at the van."

The shaman pulled the heaving decker to her feet, half-carrying, half-leading her as they hurried from the office. As they cleared the doorway, Iris weakly looked back towards her deck, face twisted in pain.

Scrapheap's mind raced as he looked around the room to make sure that they had covered their tracks. His gaze kept returning to the computer case beneath the desk and the area where Iris had been ill.

Fragfragfragfrag! What was it Max said about ritual links? somethin' bout bio-matter being the best stuff to use. Well that's a whole fraggin' mess of bio-matter right there! Even if I had time to mop that drek up, how the frag do I know she didn't leave no traces in the isolated system?

The old runner had a sudden flash of inspiration. Slinging Iris's knapsack over his shoulder, Scrapheap jammed his hand into his own bag, fished around for a second, and pulled out a grenade. Setting the readout for 02:00, he pulled the pin, carefully placed it on the floor near the desk and puddle of vomit, turned and sprinted from the room.

His shoulder clipped the doorframe on the way out, causing him to spin. Somehow managing to keep his balance, he caught himself on the wall opposite and sped down the hallway. As he ran, Iris's and his own bag slapping against his back, he pulled the Ingram around into a ready position.

Skidding around another corner, Scrapheap spotted the decker and shaman up ahead. Barely slowing, he threw Iris's other arm across his shoulder and shouted, "Run!"

Basically carrying the dazed decker between them, Scrapheap and the Professor raced past the incapacitated guards and rounded the final corner into the lobby. Tyler stood at the door, holding it open and waving them on, Fichetti in hand. Looking past, they could see the van standing at the end of the walk, a thin plume of exhaust trailing from the tailpipe. Both doors on the passenger side stood open. Silently urging the shaman to keep up, Scrapheap gritted his teeth and dashed towards the open door.

[Shadow]

10:00:00 Wednesday 10 January 2063 - Westminster Apt Complex, South Seattle

Ivan stretched his mouth wide in a big gaping yawn as he read the message, twice.

Ok, meet men, give them go, no go. Sounds good.

It was just after eight so he had plenty of time to get to the meeting. He checked the weather outside, the snow had continued to pile up over night. It was now burying his door and bike.

He dressed in his usual working gear, silver capped combat boots, black denim jeans, outback shirt and his Stetson. He carefully put on his Ruger holster, a large leather affair that wrapped around his enormous chest and carried the pistol under his left arm. Over that he wore his synth leather secure long coat. With the addition of his ffba he hoped he would stay nice and warm. On his way out the door he picked up his cow-hide work gloves and pulled them on. The supple leather fit his hand, and the wool lining would keep them warm.

20 minutes later he pulled slowly into traffic on I-5. The 8 lane highway was moving at a snails pace with all the snowfall. The snow absorbed the sound of traffic and made the whole city seem eerily quiet.

[bclements]

11:15:47 Wednesday 10 January 2063-The Sundowner Tavern, 14640 58th Ave S. Seattle, UCAS

Ivan's trip up I-5 is uneventful; the same can't be said of the drivers of the Westwind, Bison, and several now unrecgocnizable other cars that contributed to the 4 lane, multi-vehicle pileup that caused the traffic jam. Lone Star, DocWagon, and Franklin Fire vehicles took up one lane and reduced the vast herd of northbound traffic down to a slow trickle of rubberneckers gazing at the grisley scene.

A few horn blows (lost amid the rest of the sea of cars) and one angry staredown and gesturing contest with an elf driving a Jackrabbit allowed Ivan to get into the far right-hand lane, but it was slow and careful going even after passing the wreckage and a weary Star rookie waiving people into the unoccupied lane. Several other wrecks and abandoned cars dot the freeway here and there, causing the traffic to make slow snake-like undulations on the freeway. Eventually coming to the 144th St Exit, he follows the prompts of the autonav and makes his way slowly down the unoccupied street to the Sundowner

The tavern is clearly not a morning establishment. Only 4 unsnowbound cars are parked outside, and as Ivan walks in, he only sees one fat human patron, a couple of human waitstaff, and one ork cook that peeks out from the cooks window as the door chime sounds announcing Ivan's entrance. The waitresses glance up as the chime sounds.

[bclements]

12:30:07 Thursday 11 January 2063 - Sea-Tac International Airport, Long Term Parking Terminal, Seattle, UCAS

Can't see drek over here. Might as well go where the action is Tony thinks wrily, taking off in a sprint over to the pillar where the grenade went off. The higher pitched, muffled CACK-CACK-CACK of a submachine gun sounds twice just before he takes off.

[Shadow]

11:16:05 Wednesday 10 January 2063-The Sundowner Tavern, 14640 58th Ave S. Seattle, UCAS

Ivan nods to the woman as he removes his Stetson and shakes the snow off of it, and his large shoulders. He doesn't quite stand up full as his horns brush up against the ceiling tiles.

He smiles a tusky smile to the puny human and says, "I am Wayne, I believe I am here on biznink?"

He scans the audience with a soldiers eye, looking for possible threats, ambush spots and hiding places.

[WinterRat1]

01:19:17 Tuesday 09 January 2063- Practical Applications Clinic

With a surge of adrenaline and strength he didn’t know he had, Professor hauled Iris down the hallway with Scrapheap’s help. His lungs were burning from the atypical exertion and he was gasping for breath, but somehow, he managed to carry his own weight as the two of them hauled the decker up to the door of the van and dump her in, Tyler helping from inside the van, with the two of them piling in immediately after.

Right away Megan pulled the car out of the lot, tires squealing as they made a quick getaway even as the lights and sirens were getting closer. As they were pulling away, exactly two minutes after they had bolted the administrator’s office, an explosion rocked the place. Not ridiculously loud or extreme, but to Professor, who had only heard an explosion on the trid, it was surprising nonetheless.

Looking at the street samurai wide eyed, he received a nod in response to his unspoken question. Pulling onto the freeway, Megan slowed down to the speed limit so as not to attract attention. “Where should I go now Joh…er, Scrapheap?”

She’s clearly nervous and wired, she didn’t even try to call me ‘old man’. But everyone did about as good as I could expect. Not bad for a buncha kids, a civilian, a newbie decker, and an old man. John thought.

Leaning back, he took a deep breath to release the tension that had accumulated in his body and thought about their next move.

[Scrapheap]

01:14:22 Tuesday 09 January 2063- On the Road

John pulled off his ski-mask and stuffed it into his bag. He then folded the Ingram's stock, ejected the clips, and put those in the bag as well before placing it on the floor. He then carefully added Iris's bag to the pile. Reaching into his pocket for his smokes, he caught Megan's eye in the rear-view mirror. "Take the next exit, kid, then the first empty alley you see. We need to get the plates back on this thing. Then we need to find someplace to hole up and go over whatever Iris got off the system."

Seemingly in response to her name, the decker moaned from where she sat slumped next to Max. John watched as she weakly raised a hand to her forehead, then looked to the shaman. "She OK, Max? Max?"

[Slipshade]

01:22:01 Tuesday 09 January 2063- On the Road

Still breathing hard from the exertion of carrying Iris, Max had immediately checked the decker over for any signs of trauma. Iris’s aura read of fatigue and its chaotic motion was giving off a sense of dizziness and nausea, but there were no signs of physical damage. The explosion that rocked the clinic startled Max out of his examination of the semi-conscious decker. He glanced at John questioningly, and received a nod of acknowledgement in return.

‘Now why the hell did he do that?’

Feeling assured that Iris was going to be ok, he tried to calm himself enough to let his consciousness slip out into the city again, searching for more spirits to aid him, if they were needed, but was interrupted by John’s question…

"She OK, Max? Max?"

“She will be fine, she just needs some rest now.” He replies. “She seems more disoriented and sick than physically hurt.”

As John makes more suggestions on where to pull the Van over, Max again searches the astral realm for help.

[Scrapheap]

01:25:11 Tuesday 09 January 2063- On the Road

John simply nodded as the shaman explained Iris's condition, though he was extremely relieved. Like anyone else, he'd heard multiple stories of deckers ending up brain-fried after tackling tough IC. Of course he was glad the girl was OK, but he'd mostly been worried that she'd downloaded the data onto headware memory. He didn't know how they would have extracted the data if she'd been 'fried. He was glad he didn't have to worry about that now.

As Max leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to calm his breathing, John leaned forward to get a clearer view of the young girl driving. "Take that exit there, Megan. Watch for ice."

"I know how to fraggin' drive, old man."

Smiling at the return of her attitude, John sat back and spoke up. "A'ight. As soon as we find a quiet alley, I'll get the van back in order. After that, we need to rest. Go over what we found. I'd say my doss, but I don't think I could get all you fraggers in this time of night. Not to mention my sister... Anyone else got an idea?"

"What about the Respite?" Twiggy glanced at Megan as he spoke, then back at the rest. "The rest of our chummers are there. They could watch while we sleep. Plus, there's food!"

"Only thing is, the Clinic fraggers already know about the Respite. Might be the first place they look. Take that alley there, kid."

As the van slid to a halt among a series of snow-topped dumpsters, John dug out his toolkit and grabbed the van's plates from under the seat. As he was about to get out he said, "Still, maybe we want to be there if they do show up. Help your friends? What's everyone think?"

[Slipshade]

01:25:34 Tuesday 09 January 2063- Alleyway

Max had just finished bargaining with another of the city spirits, when the teams discussion turned to lodgings.

“As I see it, the only two places we have to go are my home or the Respite. Each have there advantages and disadvantages. The Respite can easily accommodate everyone and there are few peace officers that patrol Touristville. Those that do, usually stick to the main strip. The downside is that the clinic people know the location and could come back. My home can accommodate everyone and the clinic would not likely be dumb enough to attack us there, but our arrival time and departure time will be logged by security. If anyone traces this back to us, we will not have an alibi for the time we have been away. Which do you think would serve our needs better, John?”

[bclements]

11:18:43 Wednesday 10 January 2063-The Sundowner Tavern, 14640 58th Ave S. Seattle, UCAS

"Wayne, huh? You're here early. Follow me on back," the waitress, whose nametag says Jana says, leading Ivan toward the partition blocking off the end of the dining area.

"Watch your head hon," Jana says, unlocking the heavy plastic, floor to cealing divider in the middle, she wrenches it back to reveal a decent sized cocktail area. Ducking even more to make it thru the doorway, Ivan follows the waitress into the dark area. The air still has a faint tang of stale cigarette smoke, but no empty bottles are evident.

"Hava seat next to the bar hon. The booths there are big enough for ya. Ya want me 'ta bring ya a menu or some soykaf?" Jana says, waiting by the partition.

[Shadow]

11:19:00 Wednesday 10 January 2063-The Sundowner Tavern, 14640 58th Ave S. Seattle, UCAS

"Da, menu would be good. OJ will do for drink."

Ivan set his large frame down in the indicated booth, making sure he faced the entrence.

"Please, a pitcher of water and 3 glasses."

Might as well see if they be accepting hospitality.

[Scrapheap]

01:27:06 Tuesday 09 January 2063- Alleyway

Despite the way Twiggy's face lit up as Max mentioned his luxurious apartment, the veteran runner shook his head. "It's nice of ya to offer, chummer, but I don't think it's such a good idea. Like you said, your security tracks visitors. They also log and hold weapons. If we was attacked, we'd be fragged. Plus, and I don't know if you do or don't, but if you plan to continue in this line o' work you need to keep your biz away from your main doss as much as possible. Back in my day I always had at least 3 safe-houses."

Taking a drag off of his cigarette, John opened the door and got out. Leaning back in he added, "So unless anyone's got any reason not to, or a better idea, let's use the Respite. I'd rather not, but I think it is our best option right now. Think about it. This'll only take a sec."

Warily glancing around to make sure he wasn't being watched, and using the thermographic function of his eyes to check the doorways and dark spaces between the dumpsters, John quickly replaced the van's plates. Returning the ratcheting driver to his toolkit, he zipped the case and stuck it under his arm. He then squatted down near the rear on the driver's side and felt around for the transponder wire he had cut earlier. Finding the two ends, he twisted them back together before walking over to the driver's door and opening it.

He made a shoo-ing motion at Megan and said, "I'll take over kid. Good job."

As Megan in turn pulled Twiggy from his seat and shoved him towards the back, John climbed into the van and adjusted the seat. Turning around he asked, "A'ight. What's the verdict?"

[Slipshade]

01:30:22 Tuesday 09 January 2063- Alleyway

"Like you said, The Respite seems the best place for the moment. We should head there." This evening had given Max a lot to think about, particularly...

'I am I really cut out for this?'

'Heh, not like you have much of a choice, chum.'

[bclements]

11:19:00 Wednesday 10 January 2063-The Sundowner Tavern, 14640 58th Ave S. Seattle, UCAS

Jana disappears thru the partition, coming back a minute later bearing a tray with the ordered drinks. Roughly putting the order on the table, she lays a menu down next to Ivan. "Ya wanna couple minutes to look it over?" she says.

[Scrapheap]

01:30:59 Tuesday 09 January 2063- Alleyway

John simply nods, puts the van into gear, and pulls out of the alley.

The drive to the Respite is uneventful, though snow continued to fall. Since the traffic was light at this time of night, there was a thin layer of accumulation beginning to form over the usual slush. It was slippery and potentially dangerous, but John drove carefully, not being in any immediate hurry.

Aside from Twiggy's effort to get someone, anyone, to tell him what went on inside the clinic, and the occasional moan from Iris, everyone eventually seemed content to retreat into their own thoughts.

A glance into the rearview mirror showed Tyler leaning forward to talk quietly with Megan. Iris sat slumped over against Max, though he didn't seem to notice and was staring out the window, brow furrowed with deep thought. Twiggy stared straight ahead, arms folded and a disgruntled scowl on his face.

Finally reaching the soup kitchen, John circled around the neighborhood a few times before deciding that the area was clear. Parking the van in the dock area in back, they gathered their belongings and headed inside. Max and Tyler helped Iris, again practically carrying the decker. John led the way with one hand inside his jacket resting on the grip of his Manhunter. He carried the knapsack containing her deck slung across his back, along with his own gear. As they neared the front door, Max paused with eyes closed. John barely had time to wonder what he was doing before the shaman opened his eyes and nodded.

Once they were inside and greetings were exchanged, Max and John got Iris settled in Keira's office. Though he was anxious to see what the decker had found, Max said it was obvious that the girl needed rest before she'd be able to tell them anything. The shaman assured him that she would be fine with a little sleep. Leaving her gently snoring on Keira's small bed, the two men quietly withdrew to the kitchen.

Walking through the main room, past sleeping gangers, John was once again amazed by the work the street kids had done. All of the clutter had been removed and the furniture had been put back in place. Some of the least damaged had even been repaired. This Keira must be some kinda special woman, ta get all these fraggin' kids to work like this. Or maybe they just need someone to believe, give 'em some attention? Was that all Nora needed? One of us to give her a little more time? Frag, if only it was that easy.

As they walked into the large kitchen, they saw the other members of their "team" sitting around a work table. A jar of soy-nut butter and a half-eaten loaf of bread sat between them. Tyler looked up as the two entered, held up a half-eaten sandwhich, and mumbled around a mouthful of food. "Hungry?"

Nodding, John sat down next to Twiggy and quickly made himself a sandwhich. When he was finished, he pushed the ingredients towards Max. "I'm proud of you guys. Everyone did a great job tonight. Nobody panicked when it got sticky and everybody did the part they were assigned. Just like regular shadowrunners."

Reaching into his bag, he pulled out the two Predators and their clips. He sat them on the table and pushed them towards Tyler and Megan. "I got these off the guards. If you guys're gonna be helpin' me you should have them. There's one clip of gels and one of regular for each weapon. Ares stuff is drek, but it's the best I can do." As they reached for the pistols he added, "I'll just need my Manhunter back, kid."

As Megan nodded and reached back to remove the heavy pistol from her waistband, Twiggy tapped him on the shoulder. "What about me?"

"Sorry, kid. That's up to them. I only got two and they're older."

"Figures," Twiggy grumped. Turning back to his sandwhich he took a huge bite and began to chew dejectedly, chin in hand.

"What now?" Megan asked, handing him his gun.

"Unless someone's got a better idea I'm gonna get some fraggin' sleep. You guys should too. Iris won't be much use 'til she's rested, so there ain't much we can do now. We'd probably be better off with that data now, case we need to move fast, but unless one of you guys knows how to use a deck we need to wait on our girl."

Grabbing his sandwhich, John stood. "If no one's got nothin' else?"

[Shadow]

11:19:00 Wednesday 10 January 2063-The Sundowner Tavern, 14640 58th Ave S. Seattle, UCAS

"No thank you, ma'am. I will take ham cheese omlette. 5 eggs please. 2 Sides bacon, 2 sides sausauge, and hashbrowns please. And Ketchup."

Ivan folded the menu bacl up and handed it to the waitress.

If only I could be affording this every day.

[Slipshade]

02:00:02 Tuesday 09 January 2063 – Redmond - Touristville - The Respite Soup Kitchen

Max accepts the sandwich fixings without a word. He had gotten used to soy-based foods from his time working here at The Respite and spread a nice portion of the bland soy nut butter over a couple of pieces of bread.

“I have a couple of things I want to do before I get some sleep. I have been thinking about who I know that may be able to help us and while it maybe a long shot, I worked with a Cascade Orc shaman about a year ago one on of his dig sights. I could put in a call to see if he would act as a spotter for any ritual magic that I may be able to use to locate Nora and Keira. I am also going to put up some astral watchers around the building incase anyone tracks us back here. “ He takes a bite of his sandwich, which after this evening tastes surprisingly good. “After I am done with that I am going to get some sleep.”

Max finishes his sandwich and leaves the table. Looking for someplace suitable for his work, he finds a faraway corner of the main dinning hall and seats himself in the back behind a few tables and cots that have been set up for use. Max pushes the fatigue and stress of the day to the back of his mind and concentrates on the ritual summoning of a watcher spirit.