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

[grendel]

23:40:19 Monday 08 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma

As the network connection LEDs switch over to green the campfire sparks to life, flames licking upwards among the carefully stacked logs. The soldiers gathered around relax visibly, grim smiles appearing on the faces of the legionnaire and the Marine. The battlesuit reaches up and disengages a series of latches on her helmet, the hiss of an overpressure internal environment accompanying its removal. The woman revealed is young, perhaps mid-twenties. Her dark hair is cut short, almost shaved on the sides so as not to interfere with the life support systems of her helmet. A neural amplifier is mounted to the back of her neck, probably interfaced with some kind of cybernetic connection as well in order to overcome the feedback delay in her suit's power assist servos. She scratches behind her left ear with the battlesuit's armored gauntlet, a sigh of relief escaping her lips.

The Marine drinks from his canteen.

"Thanks kid. It's been a while."

Todd nods, unsure as to what to say. He glances around the circle at the various faces, and then back to the fire. He blinks in surprise. Hanging in the air above the fire, written in smoke, are a series of four equations. Pulling a datapad from his pocket, he copies down the equations. They're sophisticated: four variables modeling something.

What variables, though?

Todd glances around again.

Four of us, four variables. But what about us?

Working quickly, Todd creates a program to run as many variables about the three figures and himself through the equations. It references his own personal data, but he has no data on any of the other icons. Glancing up, he finds them all looking at him. He points to the legionnaire.

"Name, rank, serial number!"

Todd quickly enters the information as each soldier provides the data. The program sets to work, running numbers through the equations based on the raw numbers of dates and ages, sums of days alive, or length of names, or the sum of the numbers in names. After a couple of seconds, a stream of values pour out.

What the Hell good is this drek? Todd stares at the numbers. After a moment, he frowns. Pattern recognition is a skill present in any good programmer, and the results of his program are not random. Pulling up a a topo map of Seattle, he divides the numbers up into rows of six digits followed by seven digits. He ends up with six sets of numbers. Plotting them as lattitudes and longitudes, only one of the six appears anywhere close to Seattle. Changing them up, he pairs up the first with the third, second with the fourth, and so on. These results are a little better, with two of six appearing on the map. Todd frowns, collapsing the list of numbers to a single long string. After a minute, he creates a grid of thirteen rows of four. He repeats the exercise of dividing them up into sets of six and seven digits. The results, this time, are just what he's looking for. All six locations appear on the map of the metroplex. The three lines of position which result intersect at a location somewhere in the Redmond barrens.

[The_Eyes]

17:35 Monday 08 January 2063 - approaching Miner’s Landing, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

James yawned as his motorcycle threaded its way up the highway. Thankfully the bike was in fairly complete control of itself; James himself hardly knew how to drive the thing, and even if he did his mind wasn't really on the task anyway. Drekking meatspace, he thought, trying to ignore the protests of his knees and back which had not moved much over the past eight hours, Icons have all this drekking sensory output, and none of it useful.

Gliding to a stop near the front of Miner’s Landing, James parked the bike in a decently-lit place on the curb near all the other bikes. Hopefully the area was public enough that no one would try to hotwire a bike right in front of the bar. James dismounted, glanced in the windows, and grimaced. Even worse than the interface, though, he thought ruefully, is that there's so many other people in it. He sighed, deliberately adjusted his glasses, and walked into the bar, determined to make the visit as short as necessary.

[bclements]

23:48:25 Monday 8 January 2063 – Sea-Tac International Airport, Long Term Parking Terminal garage, Section 12, Seattle, UCAS

Jesus Christ! Tony thought to himself.. I didn’t really think that they would use the term bodyguarding quite so literally. Carefully opening the other cooler and removing some of the soy burger packages, Tony sees another body of another anonymous young man. Not wanting to spend too much time inspecting dead bodies in a public parking garage, Tony takes out his psec and snaps a picture of the faces of the dead men. This may come in handy later on, at least to find out what the hell is going on. Tony thought to himself.

Carefully replacing the soy burger packages in the cooler, strapping it back down, and locking the cargo bed, Tony walks quickly away from the truck back to the shuttle stop, thinking better than to run around an airport with a bag full of guns. What did Radian say if I got stopped? Going to a barbecue? Maybe for ghouls. Tony thinks to himself as he starts on the long walk back toward the shuttle bus stop at the entrance of the parking garage. Tony gets to it just as the shuttle pulls up.

“Main Terminal, please” he tells the driver as he steps into the warm, unoccupied bus. Got enough time this evening for a nightcap, then a good nights sleep. If I’m lucky, I may even wake up from it.

[Ecclesiastes]

10:15:30 Monday 08 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma

Todd, thankful for his Math SPU, stores the data into his system memory, then turns to the gathering, "Location received. Was there any other message or information you were to give me?"

[grendel]

17:27:14 Monday 08 January 2063 - Cooper's Firearms, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

The metal rings left over from the barrel of the heavy weapon have a uniform bakelite finish, the bonded polymer coating was fantastic at resisting surface corrosion and pitting. Marquis was very familiar with the compound, and cursed its effectiveness as he stares at the dozen or so cylinder segments lying in the shallow pan of water in his shop. He could leave them in there for a week and be no better off. Frowning thoughtfully, he crosses the room to the shop's expert system and clicks through the index until he finds the entry under 'anodic/cathodic corrosion'.

[grendel]

23:45:27 Monday 08 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma

The Marine, LCPL Dawson, smiles humorlessly.

"Watch your back, kid, the key is likely to have guardians. We'll see you back here when you're ready."

LT Dvora Tellerman, the woman in the battlesuit, nodded in agreement. She'd pulled some kind of self-heating ration pack from her support pack and was stirring the pale gruel with a disposable spoon.

"Stay frosty." She smiled at Todd.

[Ecclesiastes]

10:15:30 Monday 08 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma

Todd questions, "What does the key open?"

[grendel]

23:45:32 Monday 08 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma

All three soldiers stop what they are doing and exchange glances. Finally, the legionnaire, Gaius Vibulenus, speaks.

"We're not authorized to answer that question."

[Ecclesiastes]

10:15:32 Monday 08 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma

Todd smirks, "Yeah, I figured you'd say that. See ya on the flip side."

Todd disconnects the network feed and watches the fire die before logging out of the system. His mind churning, he steps over to his LayZMan and flops into it.

What the drek? The Key? Super encrypted contruct just to give an address? This is just... ugh!

Frustrated, Todd grabs his dataline and jacks in, set to find out what he can about this alusive address.

[grendel]

23:45:50 Monday 08 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma

Calling up the old Redmond municipal plans, the last accurate map available before the area was abandoned to the whims of squatters and shadowrunners, Todd drops his lat-long display over the resulting map grid.

Well that's about par for this course.

The lat-long of the location is square in the middle of the Sacred Heart Cemetery in Redmond.

[grendel]

17:37:40 Monday 08 January 2063 - Miner’s Landing, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

Eyes takes a deep breath, settles his coat about his shoulders, and plunges into a small version of Hell. The noise of the restaurant washes over him, and he quickly waves off the waitress, heading upstairs. Unfortunately, the bar is equally crowded, as it's just the end of happy hour. Chill sweat collects at the small of his back as he tries to find a relatively open area to wait: Zeyda is deep in conversation with another person.

[Ecclesiastes]

11:45:55 Monday 08 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma

Man, a kid just can't catch a break these days... Oh well, there goes that grand I just made, cause there ain't no way I'm backing out of this stuff now.

Todd puts together a quick message and shots it off to Zeyda

[bclements]

00:31:15 Tuesday 9 January 2063 – The Unbottled Spirit,Capitol Hill Seattle, UCAS

“And the piasma says “What’s it to ya, chummer?” Rebecca says, while Tony tries not to spray whiskey out of his nose at the punchline of the joke. Since the band had left, the place had gotten far quieter and less populated; mostly only the hardcore drunks and regulars were left, the rest having departed soon after the band.

Recovering a little, Tony swallows his mouthful of the good Kentucky bourbon in his mouth and snatches a few soynuts from the bowl on the bar. “So Rebecca, where were you earlier? I did find the place I needed, by the way. Thanks for looking around for me, though,” Tony said. “Sorry I couldn’t find anything for you, sweetie, but no one I know has a place to be able to park something without drawing a lot of attention. I thought you drove an Americar anyway?” Rebecca asked, dodging the first question by asking one of her own. “I usually do, but I really didn’t have much of a choice in my ride tonight. How did the band night go? And you didn’t answer my first question, either” Tony said, enjoying the exchange.

“I was out, that’s all. Actually,” Rebecca said “I was checking on a band over on the far end of Bellevue, turned out to be a waste of my time. I like to keep my furnature in one piece. That band turned out pretty good, looks like we’ll have them back if they want to.” As Tony downs the remainder of his drink and reaches for his pocket, Rebecca waives him off. “No need to pay for this round,” she says. Getting up and smiling, Tony says “Why don’t you do that when Sam’s drinking on my tab?” “What, you want me to go out of business sweetie?” Rebecca says with a smile as she moves toward another customer. Tony walks out into the freezing night. At least the snow has stopped. Still fragging cold, though. And I still don’t know what I’m up against. Tony thinks to himself on the three block walk back to his apartment building.

[grendel]

00:35:21 Tuesday 09 January 2063 – Capitol Hill Terrace , Capitol Hill, Seattle, UCAS

Halfway home, Tony's phone buzzes. Zeyda's number blinks on the small screen.

"Hey, I know you're in the middle of a job, but I think I just may have the solution to two problems. You need a decker. I've got a decker who needs a bodyguard. A real bodyguard this time. You interested?"

[The_Eyes]

17:38:00 Monday 08 January 2063 - Miner’s Landing, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

There was a red-haired, green-eyed dwarf sitting at a nearby bar table. She was chatting animatedly to her companion, an African-American woman in her mid-twenties. They were wearing an identical earring, those pairs of friendship earrings that became popular when piercings could be made or healed in an instant. Maybe they met at a corp social, or at school, or somehwere else entirely?

At another table an older chinese troll was drinking alone. His clothes were well-tailored, but unkempt and dirty, a sign of a successful man gone to seed even if the red-rimmed eyes hadn't said the same thing. Was he an attorney whose practise had just gone belly-up? A middle-management wageslave who'd seen better days? A guy who had inherited a drekload of money, and was now just coming to the end of it?

Belly up to the bar sat a muscle-bound ork ganger. Snake tatoos covered his exposed forearms, their red eyes glistening, their mouths open to the ports on his hands where the cyberspurs would extend. For all the tough-guy exterior, the ganger seemed near tears from watching the trid, a news program counting off the long lists of deaths from yesterday. Perhaps he had lost someone important to him? Or was it something less important, like a dry spur socket that's been bothering him for awhile?

A hand on his shoulder caused James's head to whip around, a momentary look of shock and surprise on his face. "Whoa, hey chummer," said the bartender, backpeddling a little, "Just wondering if you needed a drink; you look a little fragged up there."

James blinked and shivered inwardly; he had almost gotten up to walk over to the dwarf woman and ask her how she had met her other friend, or even worse ask the ork or troll why they looked like they were going to cry. History and common sense taught him that any of those were sure signs of disaster, but it was just so easy to get distracted; the tide of knowledge and collected experiences of the crowd drew him like a moth to a flame. Just, so... drekking... many of them, James thought tiredly.

"Uh, yeah... I think I could use something to drink," James replied lamely, putting down some nuyen for something not too intoxicating. Pondering for a moment, he plugged into his pocsec and loaded up a copy of his most recent programming project. He knew he wouldn't get anything meaningful accomplished here, but the drink and the program combined would help distract him from other people's problems and other people's lives, and keep him from either zoning out or asking invasive, dangerous personal questions to strangers again.

[Bastard]

1738 Monday 08 January 2063 - Cooper's Firearms, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

After seeking other methods, Marquis finally decides that a bottle of acid etch will have to do the trick. It is usually used more "constructively" but the payment for the job will more than cover a new bottle. He empties the contents of the can into the shop sink, letting the ring hitt the surface. Probably not hurting them any, but it isnt like he is trying to keep them in good shape. He refills the can with the acid etch, placing the rings in carefully this time, but just not to splash himself. He hides the can under the sink, not from anyone in particular, just out of sight.

Before exiting the shop, Marq checks his clothes, not wanting to bring any unwanted chemicals in contact with his Caddi. Finding nothing he grabs his punked out leather jacket, checks his twin gold Guardians, and heads for the door. The heavy metal locks behind him, as he steps into the alley.

A few minutes later, the Cadillac rumbles out of the back alley and into another. Cutting in and out of backroads and sidestreets, the car returns to the garage where it started the day. The alarm twirps to let the owner know that it is armed, before he enters the residence.

[bclements]

00:35:30 Tuesday 09 January 2063 – Capitol Hill Terrace , Capitol Hill, Seattle, UCAS

"Sure Zeyda, I'm interested. What kind of bodyguarding would a decker need anyway?"

[grendel]

00:36:04 Tuesday 09 January 2063 – Capitol Hill Terrace , Capitol Hill, Seattle, UCAS

Zeyda chuckles drily.

"Ordinarily, it's just watching their meat bod while they do something dangerous in the matrix. This one's a little different, though, apparently he needs to make a trip into the Barrens. Didn't say why, just that he needed protection, wheels, and a GPS unit if available. 1000 :nuyen: for the whole deal. If you're interested, I'll set-up a lunch meeting between the two of you tomorrow here at the Landing."

[Slipshade]

09:14:31 Monday 08 January 2063 – Redmond - Touristville - The Respite Soup Kitchen - Main Dining Hall

Giving a sigh of relief and a rueful shake of his head, Max pushes open the door to The Respite. The haze of astral space is lessened here in the interior of the soup kitchen. It is a place that these people can come to for hot food and a little shelter away from the deadly streets. The edge of fear and desperation while still present is dulled by the escape The Respite provides. The kitchen staff moves to and fro across the room, darting in and out of the kitchen proper. The number of SINless has steadily grown over the past few months Max has volunteered, but the staff has not. Even with the added pressure the volunteers at The Respite somehow manage to plaster a smile across their faces and plod on. Maybe it is because they know they are doing some good or maybe it is because they are just happy that their situation isn’t quite as bad as those they help, Max didn’t know, but what ever the reason they put on a good face for those less fortunate.

Max’s presence at the door garners some attention. The regulars have become used to his appearance, but there are a number of new faces that murmur and cringe at the sight of Max’s stone-like complexion. He ignores the stares and smiles at some of the more familiar faces in the crowd.

“Hey Trancer.” Max says to a youth of no more than 12 years. “How’s your mom?”

“Oi, Professor. Better, thanks fur askin. Two months sobber” The young kid with a mat of ratty brown hair replies with a grin. “Thanks for getting her into the clinic.”

Trancer's mother had become addicted to BTL when Max had met the young boy at the soup kitchen. Max had taken a liking to the young boy. He was one of the rare ones that the barrens hadn’t worn down yet. Precocious as most young boys are, he was kind of a pet project for Max, who didn’t want to see Trancer's sharp mind go to waste. Seeing the predicament the child was in, Max footed the bill to get his mother into a good rehab clinic.

“Are you still studying, like I told you too?” He inquires.

“Yah.” He boys tone sounds dejected “It’s been the only problem with mom being sober. “She won’t let me outta the apartment until I finish with those lessons you gave her.”

Max smiles. “Good. I’ll have her let me know when you finish them and I will get her some more.”

“Ah, man don’t do that”

“I’ll try to make them more interesting for you this time, but you still have to do them.” Max had given Trancer’s mom a number of lesson plans to help her and Trancer get an education. They were SINless, but Max had promised to get Trancer into a real school if he applied himself. By the looks of it Trancer’s mom was going to make sure he did.

‘Good, the kid has a sharp mind and maybe, just maybe a bit of magical talent is him.’ Trancer’s aura was always very vibrant, more so than most children his age.

“Mom’s in the kitchen helping out if you want to go see her.” Trancer replied trying to move the discussion away from studying.

“I will. Is Keira in there too?” Had not seen the young elven woman since he had entered the building.

“Think so,” Trancer answered. “So you gonna to ask her out yet?”

Max shot the boy a sour look. “Your to smart for your own good, kid.”

“Natch, Chummer.”

[bclements]

00:36:31 Tuesday 09 January 2063 – Capitol Hill Terrace , Capitol Hill, Seattle, UCAS

"Sign me up. Lunch at the Landing, say noon? Only one problem: if this is a rush job for him, I'm not going to be able to do it tomorrow night. I can remedy that by not charging him, in return for my job."

[grendel]

00:36:53 Tuesday 09 January 2063 – Capitol Hill Terrace , Capitol Hill, Seattle, UCAS

"Noon, then. I think it's a little bit of a rush, but I got the impression that he wasn't going to wait around until sundown to go. Those particulars you can discuss better with him, though. I'll catch you later."

[grendel]

17:52:37 Monday 08 January 2063 - Miner’s Landing, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

Eyes finds it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything, with the noise from downstairs filtering up to the bar, the constant bumps and brushes as people move past him, and the ever-present haze of smoke and alcohol. Even Aria's smoky angelic voice does nothing to relax the knots of tension drawn tight across his shoulders.

Finally, Zeyda's meeting finishes, and the fixer motions across the bar to Eyes.

"Hey, thanks for waiting. How're things holding up?"

"Fine. What's up?" Eyes doesn't mean to sound rude, but he is distinctly uncomfortable here in such a large social setting.

"I've got a dedicated information request here. Did you read about the shooting that happened yesterday? That ex-Ren Raku programmer? I've got a friend who wants to know the real story behind the killing. It's a 2k bonus and 200 :nuyen: per day to run down everything you can about who, what, when, where, and most importantly, why. Interested?"

[grendel]

06:14:11 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma

The machine crawls down the endless corridor, dragging its broken and useless legs behind it. Its progress is slow and torturous, the muscles in its arms quivering with effort. The floor is slick with blood and mucous, effluvium from the thousand slaughtered bodies that litter the hall. Hands, hooked by rigor mortis into inhuman claws, scraped at the machine as it moved past. Behind it, clearly audible, were the mechanical sounds of butchery: armored torsos mounting servo-motor driven reverse-articulated legs , serrated claws of flashing surgical steel ripping with the power of myomer muscles, (meta)humans drowning in their own blood, gurgling their last breath through exposed throats and lungs. The machine paused in exhaustion, shaking the sweat from its eyes and seeing its reflection in the bloody floor.

Todd screamed, lunging out of bed to stand in the chill air of his apartment for a moment before collapsing to the floor. Slowly, too slowly, the remains of the nightmare faded, and he made his way into the bathroom. Splashing some cold water on his face, he stared at the dark circles beneath his eyes. Sleep was easy, but peacefulness continued to elude him. The message light on his trid drew his attention, and he powered up the display.

[The_Eyes]

17:54:08 Monday 08 January 2063 - Miner’s Landing, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

James pondered a moment. Not really mulling over whether or not to take the job--getting paid to run a search? Hell, he might've done it for free if he had the time!--but pulling together what little information he already had on the subject.

"Ex-programmer... I think I saw an article on that," James pondered aloud, his mind automatically supplying some of the details despite the distraction of the world around him, "A... Dr. Casimir, right? Sure, I'd be happy to take a look. I suppose the client wants to generate as little background noise as possible for this? And what's the timetable? 'Everything you can' could take up to a week if you really want everything; how long does the client want to wait?"

Casimir... you know, I think I have a couple of his search algorithms implemented on Jane, James mused, Now there's a fun coincidence; Casimir's algorithms tracking down Casimir's killer. Someone's Karma at work.

[Ecclesiastes]

06:15:02 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma

The message swung Todd's mood for the better. Sweet. Noon kick-off time even gives me a few hours to get in some programming time. The young skater settled into his favorite decking spot and logged in. He quickly shot off a message to the fixer and nanoseconds later ones and zeros were running through his head as he further reprogrammed his brain to the sythetic world.