IC: Tequila Blues Options

[Ecclesiastes]

"I should have been a dentist."

Dr. Kristine Martin finished her fourth tequila, enjoying the burning sensation as it went down her throat and up to her brain. This was the high point of her daily routine -- the rest was what fueled her new drinking habit. For the sixth or seventh time in less than one hour, she wondered how had it all ended up like this.

She should have seen it coming years ago. The constant obsession for profits, the need to stay one step ahead of the competition and the pressure to remain on top of her fellow teammates ... She had done her share of questionable experiments -- who didn't in this day and age? Dr. Martin had always silenced her concerns about her crumbling ethics by telling herself it was all in the name of progress.

I'm an idiot. Another shot of tequila found its way to her stomach.

This drek is so bad that it's going to kill me one of these days, she thought. Hell, why not? I didn't have the guts to pull the trigger when I had a chance. Now he could hurt her daughter. Their daughter.

"Why did I ever love such a monster?" she whispered to herself.

"Bad day at home?" The English words had a notorious Aztlaner accent.

Dr. Martin looked at the cantina's bartender as he prepared her another shot. Manuel was tanned and chubby, with an amicable smile that invited customers to relax and open up. He probably worked for Aztechnology or Universal Omnitech, just like everyone else in this Central American village.

"You could say so. I have a ... rather dysfunctional marriage."

Manuel pointed at the five empty glasses. "That bad?"

"Si.. My husband is an abusive bastard who doesn't want to let me go."

"You can always divorce him."

I'd wish. "The problem is that he's a very important man -- a dangerous man. He has more than enough influence to make sure it will never happen ... and he made it very clear once. So here we are, a happy little couple working side by side."

"Ah, you work at the hill?"

"My husband owns the hill." I bet you didn't see that one coming, Manuel. I'm the Queen of the fraggin' hill and I'm even more of a slave than the lowest corporate employee.

He looked pensive for a few seconds. "Impressive ... If I may ask, why are you here? This isn't a bad place, but most of the people up there wouldn't come here for all the pesos in the world."

"I think you just answered yourself."

"If things are so bad, why does he let you come here? Isn't he afraid you could run away?"

"I tried that not so long ago. He took it as an insult and had me hunted like an animal. His men brought me back so that he could break me down, which he did. I'm in Hell and he makes sure that I know he rules it. Even these moments here are just a reminder of what I lost. Friends, prestige, power, family."

"Family? You have kids?"

"A daughter in Tenochtitlán. I'm sure they're feeding her bulldrek about me, molding her into another loyal pawn. When they're done with her, and believe me, they will, she'll worship him just like every other corporate drone here. That is his revenge: He knows I love her so much that I won't do anything as long as he has her secured." And Chávez won't hesitate to kill Gabrielle if ordered to do so ... even if he always was Uncle Diego to her as a child. Frag, I hope I'm a nun in my next life.

"I don't think I've ever met your husband, but judging from your words he must be a monster."

"Oh he is, trust me, but he's also an ill man. He stays at home and I take care of him like a good wife." Sarcasm wasn't her strength. Manuel would never fully understand it, anyway, being just another cog in the machine. She finished her drink. "More, please."

"You drink like a man," complimented Manuel.

Advantages of having some of my own toys. "I know."

"And I thought I had problems at home with my chica. What do you want?"

"Just keep on with the tequila," she answered.

"Very well," he obliged, "but I was asking what did you want."

This time it was Dr. Martin's turn to look pensive. She stared at Manuel for a while, giving him a clinical eye. He just gave her another smile.

"You have the right jaw and tan, but you have all your front teeth. Who are you?"

"Why, I'm Manuel of course. A SIN never lies."

"No you aren't. What did you do to him?"

"Are you going to keep asking dumb questions like that? Tempus fugit. Time flies, doctor, I suggest you ask the right questions before your husband requests your assistance once again."

"I had someone following me to this place, he will know... ," Dr. Martin looked unsure, having just been reminded of her situation.

Manuel pointed at a corner, where a farmer seemingly slept his siesta. "You mean the guy who entered the cantina a minute after you did? That tequila he asked for was extra strong, if you get me. Unless he wants to report he fell asleep while on duty, he'll just say everything went fine."

"Who are you? Who do you work for?"

"My name doesn't matter, I don't exist. But my employer is an old friend of yours, someone who has followed your career with interest and is concerned about your current situation."

She eyed him suspiciously. "That sounds too good to be true, considering my situation. How do I know this isn't another sick little game?"

"You don't, but I was told to deliver you this." He handed her a small item. "Science without religion is lame... ."

"... religion without science is blind," said Dr. Martin, finishing Einstein's quote. She opened her hand and looked at its content. From a small, aging pin, the genius stuck out his tongue. She almost dropped it in surprise.

"The Copenhagen Biotech Convention. I was there with UniOmni's negotiation team, nothing more than a young, bright rookie."

"My employer remembers having some interesting conversations with you and your colleagues at a nightclub. You didn't seem to be interested in mere profits like the others. You had dreams."

She sighed. "That was a long time ago."

"Some people have a long memory."

"Yes."

"Interested?"

"No."

"Excuse me?" It was his turn to be surprised.

"Not without my daughter. I won't leave without her."

"That can be arranged. How tough could it be?" Manuel, or whoever was in front of her, flashed a roguish smile.

"You'll need some serious cojones to do that. Or a death wish -- they won't take it lightly."

"We'll take care of that part, it's our specialty. Besides, I've been in worse situations. Back when I worked with the Colombians, I had to spend some quality time in La Gorgona, courtesy of Aztechnology Corporate Security."

Dr. Martin's eyes widened in surprise. "You mean Gorgon Island? The maximum security hellhole?"

"Those words can't even begin to describe it," said Manuel, or whoever it was behind his face. "It is as if there is something evil in there, sucking away your life one day at a time."

I know how it feels, chummer... . "So how did you escape? It's not like Televisa would ever mention something like that."

Manuel served himself some tequila. He looked at it for a while before answering. "I was rotting away in the Gorgon's belly, hoping for death to come soon. Then, one day, a strange guy came out of nowhere with an offer from an old friend of mine. Sound familiar?"

"Very."

"Anyway, it's not me or our mutual friend that we should be talking about now. I'll ask again: interested?"

"Yes."

"Good. It will take some time, but I suspect my employer has already set things in motion. She has this habit of making things fall her way, you know."

"What about you?"

"I'll be gone tonight. I need to make sure that Manuel has a terrible accident with his gas oven while sleeping his siesta."

Dr. Martin frowned. "Is that necessary?"

"What would you do for your daughter? For the future?"

Touché. "Anything."

"Then you just answered yourself. Do you have any other questions?"

"No, I just need another shot of tequila."

"Sure, it's on the house."

Manuel watched as Dr. Martin stumbled out of the cantina, half drunk with tequila and hope. His mistress had been right: the doctor was a survivor, ripe for extraction and recruitment. Oh, she would require a little guidance and a few adjustments, but that wouldn't be much of a problem -- it hadn't been in his case, at least.

[Ecclesiastes]

Days pass...

“Senior Martin?” the waiter asked. The tall Hispanic man looked up from eating his steak. Even sitting he was a bull of a man. For a human he was quite large, well over six feet with shoulders a linebacker would envy.

“Yes?”

The waiter smiled, “Senior there is a call for you at the bar. It is said to be urgent.”

Puzzled the man stood and threw down his napkin. “Fine, my dear,” he looked to his wife. Dr. Kristine Martin, smiled up at her husband. For all the world a genuine smile but it was façade she struggled to keep up.

“Of course dear, hurry back.” He nodded and left with her approval.

A few moments passed by, she was uncomfortable with him, and alone, he was always a watching so she was never truly alone. She sipped her cuervo silently, holding back tears for the sake of appearance.

“Senorita Martine, a beautiful woman as your self should never be alone.”

The voice, and the face, was completely different but Kristine new who it was.

“Manuel?” She knew that wasn’t his real name, but it was the only name she knew him buy.

“Si Madame, but please call me Roberto for now. I have distracted your husband momentarily to pass along a message.” As he spoke he refilled her drink and tidied the table.

“Soon you will me traveling to Texas for a conference, prepare yourself, events will unfold quickly. Once you are safe the team will move for your daughter. Do not hinder them in any way, do what your told and do it immediately.”

For the first time in a long time hope built in her heart. Since her meeting with the man in the bar she had half convinced herself it was a dream, a dream
concocted by a woman who’s last hope for freedom had faded long ago.

“Who will they…” Roberto raised his hand and spoke loudly, “Sorry senorita, my apologies, I will have a fresh drink brought out to you immediately.” He gave a short bow and turned to leave.

Mr. Martin sat down at the table with an odd look on his face. “When I got there the line was dead, I’ll have to have security check it out.” He paused for a moment looking at his wife.

“You look happy, perhaps you are coming around?”

Kristine smiled, a genuine smile at her husband, “Perhaps.”

It wont be soon Cerdo before we are free from you forever.

[Sphynx]

Background:

[ Spoiler ]

Miho is the epitome of cuteness. Barely 16 years old, she has no place at all in the Shadows, were you to base the opinion on how she looks. This tiny Elf has the big eyes and stray hairs that make any man want to protect her. Thus her history would come as quite a surprise to anyone that were to know it. Abused by her father as a child in ways that her mother would never have approved of, Miho ran away from home at the age of 12. As a young Japanese Elf, there was only one way to make money, and that was to have men pay to do what her father had been doing. Rather than resort to that pattern, she was instead picked up by the Yakuza of Seattle, and trained to be an assassin. Her training made her the best of the best, and then only better when they took their 'best' and improved upon her with a covert Bioware clinic. For the past 4 years she's been trained to do nothing other than sneak and kill. She's never had a boyfriend, never gone to movies, never eaten at a local soy joint. She was trained that failure meant death, and that she shall never fail. It came as a surprise to her when, on her first mission, her 'guide' died to high level security, and she was the only one to escape with her life. She runs now, afraid of being found for fear of Death at failure. She doesn't know that the Yakuza, who ARE hunting her, are only hunting her to bring her back into the fold, considering her training and expertise to be something too valuable to lose.

<Insert storyline on how she came to work for her current employers>

Appearance: Miho looks like a 16 year old japanese geisha more than anything else. She wears a red kimono all the time, though the designs may change dependant on her moods. Under the sleeves are her weapons, strapped to her under-forearm via a pair of Forearm Guards which were jury-rigged with holsters. She's always barefoot, and carries a large duffel bag most places which contain a pair of rollerblades, and her bow and arrows. She's probably one of the most attractive females a man will ever see, if he likes the short, skinny Japanese type. But her social skills are completely lacking, having been sheltered for so much of her life. Her past 6 months on the streets however have given her a basic understanding of how to survive on the streets, and started giving her flashbacks of her previous life which is little more than a vague memory. She remains mostly quiet though, or in a voice so meak that it usually goes un-noticed. She seems afraid to look a man in the eyes, and appears highly bashful. That is... until she puts on the ninja-garb (FFBA). From that point, she becomes one of the worlds deadliest people, able to take out nearly anyone before they realize they're even in danger.

Sheet:

[ Spoiler ]

ATTRIBUTES
Strength: 9 (12 BP)
Quickness: 12 (12 BP)
Body: 6 (12 BP)
Willpower: 3 (6 BP)
Intelligence: 4 (8 BP)
Charisma: 4 (4 BP)

Magic: 5
Essence: 6
Reaction: 8
Initiative: 8 + 3d6
Combat Pool: 9d6
Karma Pool: 3d6
Karma: 3/100

Resources: 650,000 (25 BP)

SKILLZ
Etiquette: 1
- Street: 3
Projectile Weapons: 2
Stealth: 6 (10)
Athletics: 6 (10)
Whips: 6 (10) (22 BP) [131 BP]

KNOWLEDGES
Japanese Society: 4
Yakuza Methods: 4
Prostitution Rackets: 4
Street Survival: 4
Police Procedures: 4

Japanese: 3
English: 3


EDGES
Exceptional Quickness (2 BP)
Bonus Quickness (2 BP)
Ambidextrous (6 BP)

FLAWS
Cursed Karma (-6 BP)
Bad Karma (-5 BP)
Police Record/Hunted (-6 BP)

BIOWARE (Offset with Geasa)
Muscle Toner: 4 (100,000)
Muscle Aug: 3 (60,000)
Synaptic Accelerator: 2 (200,000)

CYBERWARE (Offset with Geasa)
CyberEyes (Alpha)
- Mag Vision 3, Electronical
- Flare Compensators
- Low Light
- Image Link
DataJack (Alpha)
SmartLink-2 (Alpha)
- RangeFinder
Boosted Reflexes 1 (Alpha)

WEAPONS/ARMOUR
Ranger-X (Min STR 9)
- 75 HammerHead Ranger-X Arrows
- Accessory Mount
- SmartLink-2
FormFitting BodyArmour - Full
- Ruthenium Polymer (20,000)
- x8 Scanners (40,000)
Nunchaku x2
ForearmGuards (Nunchaku held on underside)

GEAR/MISC
RollerBlades

CONTACTS
Marv - Troll Merc
- Marv is the perfect man, just born in the wrong era. He'd be perfect on some Barbarian battlefield, or in a colliseum of gladiators in Rome. Sadly, he was born in this century and finds the only thing he's good for is killing. Marv has takin a special liking to Miho, even though he's fully aware that nothing romantic could ever happen between them. He would jump at a chance to help Miho out, though she'd never ask for help. Instead she just likes to sit and listen to people with Marv next to her in a bar.

Dwight - Seattle WarLord/GangLord
- Dwight saved Miho's life in a dark alley once when she was jumped by a gang of wannabes. Outnumbered, her superior fighting skills didn't help a lot. She got 3 of the attackers before they brought her down though, and then Dwight showed up and shot the rest. She owes him her life and Dwight is usually her source for jobs, until she feels she's repaid her debt.

POWER POINTS
+6 Whips: 2.25 (Geasa: Exclusive)
+4 Athletics: 1.5 (Geasa: Exclusive, BIO/CYBER offset)
+4 Stealth: 1.5 (Geasa: Exclusive, BIO/CYBER offset)
+3 Projectile Weapons: 1.25 (Geasa: Exclusive)
Traceless Walk: 0.50

KARMA EXPENDITURES
Projectiles from 2 to 6 = 4+6+7+9 = 26
Nunchaku from 6 to 12 = 27 Karma
Sneaking from 6 to 12 = 27 Karma
Bow from 6 to 7 = 3 Karma
Initiation = 12 Karma
Karma Pool = 2 Karma

97

Initiation (12 Karma):
Group: 3 Karma
Grade 1: (Oath) 9 Karma

Karma Desires (Where future Karma would be placed)
+2 Bow (to 9) [8 Karma]
+1 Grade (Projectile Weapons to +6) [10 to 14 Karma]

Miho sat on the rooftop, gazing down at the flowing blood of the city, its electric fed cars pulsating like liquid through the veins of streets below. This was Hell, also known as Seattle, and she felt at home only in the worse parts of it, the Redmond Barrens. Her dark blood red kimono whipped in the wind of the high altitude as she perched on the edge of the tallest building in the barrens. The kimono didn't leave alot to the imagination as the wind pulled it tight across her body. But there was nobody up here to notice.

In the street below rival gangs had gathered, tonight was suppose to be some big fight to set things straight once and for all, just like the night before, and the night before, and tomorrow night. Things never changed in the Barrens, but tonight Miho had a personal interest in the battle. The yakuza had taken an interest in the streets here, and it was a purely japanese gang that was viaing for turf this night. Miho had a thing for the Yakuza, a love-hate thing. She loved killing them, and hated them for what they'd done. Ok, so maybe it was more of a hate-hate thing. The japs were not going to win this battle, no matter what.

The japs disagreed though, and moments into the battle, it was clear that the gang defending was outside of their league. Miho would have none of that, and dropped the 8 stories to the ground below, much to the dismay of a rather overweight jap that decided to cushion her fall involuntarily. A leaf would have made more noise than Miho as she dropped to the ground, a nunchaku held in each hand. She walked with impassiveness, silent death waiting for anything to get in her way. She walked straight and true to the leader, waylaying 8 opponents that got in her way, never breaking stride, or even exerting effort. By the time the leader died, the massacre on the street was ten times that of any previous battle for turf. Poor deadly Miho, alone still. She'd have to thank Dwight for the tip off.

[Guest_Overwatch_*]

Background

[ Spoiler ]

Konton was born to the very conservative Hagakure family 31 years ago in the Chiba sprawl. In the city renowned for it’s bleeding edge technology, black cyberware clinics, domination by the soulless Japan-corps, Konton was something of an anomaly. He tested positive for magical aptitude at a very early age. However he was not at all responsive to the hermetic schooling his parents sent him to. He was something of a family disappointment.

At the age of 18, in an attempt to lessen the dishonor he was causing his family, Konton applied to join the Shinto priesthood. However, his tendencies for long nights of drinking and wild parties made that very difficult. Failing in yet another of his life’s paths, he gave up trying.

Konton moved into a small apartment with a trio of other down and out teenagers, and threw himself into the one thing he excelled at, swordsmanship. Konton gained more and more of a reputation as a local tough, always toting around his extra long wooden boken. He also was behaving more and more like an anachronist. He took to wearing hakama pants, and wooden slat sandals. He would often go out of his way to emulate some larger than life samurai “ancestor”.

One night while practicing his Iado forms in the park, Konton saw multiple flashes of lightning, and heard a girl’s scream. Upon investigation, he discovered a battle taking place in the nearby cemetery. A young girl and a very old man were fighting three huge Oni demons. (not the ork metavariant) The old man was casting cobalt bolts of light from his hands, and the girl was attacking two of the beasts with a Naginata that pulsated visibly with supernatural power. But the two were out numbered, and the Oni had them out muscled both physically and magically. It looked as if the girl and the old man would soon lose.

Without thinking, Konton drew his boken and leapt at the largest and fiercest of the Oni. He saw himself clad in the yoroi of his ancestors and wielding a great No-Dachi. He roared a kia, and attacked with reckless abandon. Miraculously, his blows seemed to have an effect on the demon. With the odds even, the battle turned, and Oni were soon destroyed. Konton realized that during the fight, he had successfully cast real spells. He had somehow mimicked the old man’s energy bolts and sheathed himself in mystic armor.

After the fight, the old man introduced himself as Shoki, named for the ancient demon hunter of legend. Shoki thanked Konton for helping him and his grand daughter, and complimented him on his “banishing”. Konton stutteringly admitted that this was the first time he’d ever been able to wield real magic. He begged Shoki to take him on as a student, promising a life time of loyalty in exchange for his tutelage. Begrudgingly, Shoki accepted.

Konton spent the next ten years learning from Shoki. In that time he learned that he followed the Dragonslayer totem, in the form of a powerful ancestor. Konton learned dangerous spells, how to conjure and banish spirits, and even how to leave his body behind and travel in the astral plane. All the things his previous magical teachers had told him were possible, but he could never achieve.

After a decade of training, Shoki inducted Konton into the Sohei Circle, an order of initiates that used their powers to destroy supernatural menaces. There are nearly 50 members of the Sohei Circle. They travel the world alone or in very small groups, destroying monsters wherever they find them. Many of them work as shadowrunners, both as a cover for their real purposes, and to pay the bills. Last year Shoki was killed while fighting a great form bug spirit in Chicago. He passed his No-Dachi on to Konton and sometimes still appears in the form of a guiding spirit.

Konton is now based out of Seattle. The shadowrunning scene there is very lucrative, and there is a large Asian population so Konton doesn’t look or feel out of place. There is also no shortage of Things going bump in the Seattle night.

[Qillin]

Marco is in Brazil and working on his neighbors small plantation. Marco works for his friend to keep in shape and to learn the trade, so one day he might have a plantation of his own. Marco trys to live a calm and stress free life while at his home, trying to not think about his real job.

[Shadow]

The beautiful elf strode out of the building. Moving like she was listening to music no one else could hear. In truth she was. She was listening to the beating of her own heart, and the beats in her head she had laid the operation down on. To the outside she was another elf with a pretty face.

If the world could see past the full lips, emerald green eyes, and incredibly athletic body, they would see the truth. But the world likes it’s illusions. If someone on the street could see past her stylish coat, white poets shirt, and leather pants, they would see the half inch layer of armor fitted to conform to her skin. They would notice the way the underside of her coat, the part under her left arm, bulged slightly from where the Five-seveN sat nestled in it’s holster. But no one did. They noticed the sway of her hips, or the way her raven black hair flowed behind her like a wake.

Raven picked up the pace. Her internal timer was counting down and she had ten seconds left to get to her car before the alarms…

The shrieking wail of a klaxon chopped of her thought. The tall elf took off in a run. She didn’t look behind her as she vaulted down the steps of the Nova-Tech building. Her car was fifty feet in front of her when she heard the first bullet impact the pavement next to her.

Good upstanding corporate citizens on their way to work in the big Mega’s Everett office dove for cover as the guards ruthlessly opened fire. Raven spun sideways behind a large van that was parked next to her sporty Saab-Dynamit. Heavy caliber pistol rounds peppered the side of the van, shattering glass and puncturing tires. She peeked carefully over the broken glass, three guards were running down after her, each was armed and firing as fast as they could.

“Time to fly.”

She triggered the door catch with her foot and shrugged off her coat. The coat went into the passenger seat as she settled herself into the drivers. She could hear the *thump* *thump* of bullets pounding into the van, she waited half a heart beat. The bullets stopped.

Reloading.

Her seat belt went on, her Oakley’s went with the coat. She started the engine with a roar and threw it into reverse. With her right hand she jacked the wheel all the way over to the right, spinning the car out of the spot, and bringing the nose to bear on the guards. With her left she drew her Five-seveN.

The smart link instantly engaged. The display in her eye telling her the gun was fully loaded with 20 rounds of ExEx and the safety was on. The menu in her eye flashed as she changed the selector from safe, to full auto.

The image in her mind was perfect. The three guards were standing in the open reloading their Novatech knock-offs of Ares Predators. She hit the gas. The front tires screeched as they spun, spewing smoke as they pushed the car backwards. Raven pulled the trigger, sending ten rounds down range in a roar of full auto fire. The gun bucked wildly as she sprayed the guards.

She didn’t hit a damn thing.

With the guards well behind her, Raven tossed the smoking pistol next to her glasses and put both hands on the wheel. She spun the car around and slammed the stick into first. She hit the gas. The engine roared and the tires smoked, leaving a trail of rubber as she exited the parking lot and turned onto Aberdeen Avenue.

She smiled to herself, the job had almost been perfect. Almost. She reached up to trigger the cell phone in her ear. It rang, startling her.

“Speak

“Raven, Fredrick here.”

Raven glanced in here mirror, she half expected to see a bright blue V-tol behind her, but either they didn’t scramble fast enough, or they were waiting to see who she took the package to.

“Go,” she said to Fredrick.

“Good job, are you going to be on time?”

“Am I ever late?”

"This is tricky I just wanted to be sure."

"I will be on time."

She disconnected call. The freeway was coming up and she had 30 minutes to be in Tacoma, that meant speeding. Her foot slammed on the gas.

[Mister Juan]

Orange. Red. Yellow. All flashing in a stroboscopic waltz, setting the whole scene a blaze. All over the floor, the numerous bodies danced amongst the flames of light; some gracefully gliding, other twitching painfully. Some were screaming, others chanting. Dante’s Inferno was packed to the fullest.

Christophe loved the place. He could feel the heavy bass of the techno music coursing his way through his whole body, almost punching clean out the air out of him. It was a beautiful place; so full of untapped resources… so full of interesting people. As he let his body being carried by the movement of the dancing crowd he was drowned in, he was carefully sizing up those who surrounded him.

He had carefully picked his spot: close by was a group of teenagers, probably about his age, on a night out. Most of them were girls, which meant even less work on his part. Their attire flagged them as rich corporate kids, who had come down from their sheltered penthouses to get some thrills in the plexe. The lights were now flashing faster.

Following the beat of the music, Chris slowly and carefully made his way toward the group. It took only a single look for him to spot her: underage, rich, drunk and good looking. Her clothes, although following the current trend and fashion of the young and hip scene, were conservative… which meant she was a corporate kid. About 18 or so… which put her in high school. Chances were it was one of the corporate sponsored one. She was holding some sort of drink; even better. When he was within an inch of her, he stopped for a few seconds. He could feel the heat irradiating from her body. She was talking with one of her girlfriends. Savoring the moment briefly, the young con man went to work.

Bumping violently into her, she spilled her drink all over. Time to move in.

“Oh frag! I'm so sorry about that! I’m such a fragging ass!”

“I…”

“Did I make you spill you drink? Talk about making a good first impression”

Christophe had stopped dancing and was now sheepishly fixating the glass floor.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It was almost empty.”

I’m in.

The teenager lifted his head, locking his intense green eyes into hers.

“Hoi; I knew a cute girl like you would excuse me… how about I get you a refill?”

Without leaving room for answer, he grabbed her arm and pulled her away toward one of the bars. While waiting for the drink, Christophe made sure his investment would pay.

“Aren’t you Sara?”

The girl turned away from the crowd she was contemplating, giving the young mane a very confused and concerned look.

“What? How do you know that? I mean… yes, I’m Sara.”

Your friends talk too much.

“I think we’re in the same math class. I’m a friend of Alex! You know, the big tall tough guy.”

It was obvious Sara didn’t know any Alex… but she seemed to be caught off guard. Wanting to keep a straight face, she simply nodded a yes and changed the subject.

“It’s funny, I’ve never noticed you… I mean” she looked at his electric blue hair “you’re sorta hard to miss”.

He ran his hands through them.

“Oh, that? Its brand new. Did it today. You like it?”

“Yea! Looks really cool! My father would NEVER let me do something like that.”

He smiled at her. She smiled at him.

The drinks went on, the hours passed.

When the sun came up, Christophe was ridding the bus back to his place. He was turning and playing around, in his left hand, a small cylinder. He flipped it in the air, letting it land in his front pocket. The credstick was certified, and probably print locked for Sara. He’d have to fence it, and fast, before daddy’s girl finally got the guts to admit to her father she had lost all her nuyens while clubbing.

Man… this is just too easy.

[Ecclesiastes]

Chris

On your way back phone your P-Sec starts to vibrate in your pocket. You check the caller ID and smile, a call from Miron can only mean one thing... Work.

"Hoy Chummer, I got something for ya. Someone is putting together a team and he wants only the best, so of course I thought of you. They are putting together an online meeting at noon, be there. Just a heads up, the job will involve some travel, so be ready for it."

You note down the server address for the virtual meet and continue home.

Marco

Its been a beautiful day on the plantation and you head home for a shower to wash the sweat off your back. Striding up to your door, you see a note pinned to the door.

"You are needed. Meet at virtual host 27h9-Chat-90x8 tomorrow at 1."

Konton

The chimes ring overhead as you walk into the building that houses the Sohei Circle. You are greeted by several members of your Magic Group who are all happy to see you are doing well. Arasuki, looks up from behind her receptionist desk and gives you a warm hello, then follows it by letting you know that Master wishes to speak with you. Stepping into the grand hall, you remove your shoes and make your way towards the seat of wisdom with your head bowed.

"Ahhh... Konton, it is good you have come. I have been contacted by some people that wish the help of our group. If you are availible, I'd like you to look into things for me. It would be a personal favor to me if you could take this on."

He holds out his hand and passes you a slip of paper. On it are the details for an online meeting to take place later that afternoon.

Miho

You're phone buzzes in your pocket and checking the display you are glad to hear from you buddy Merv. Picking up the line, he fills you in.

"I've been contacted for some work, but I'm already tied up on another job. Any chance you'd be interested? You'll have to go out of town for a while, but they were looking for the best and you're the only one I could think of. What do ya say?"

He passes on the host address and time and you feel a chill up your spine as the thrill before a job courses through you.

Raven

Leaving the final meet of a run always leaves a satisfied feeling in your guts. Things had gone well, but then they also knew who they were dealing with and that ment knowing better than to mess with you. Your phone chirps, its Zoe.

"Hey girl, I trust things went well?"

"Doesn't it always?"

"Point taken. Hey, I know you are just coming off a job, but I've got something hot and you're one of the few I trust with it. It'll take you out of town too, so you can dodge any heat you may have attracted on this last one..."

She gives you the details for the online meet and you head home to freshen up.

[Mister Juan]

When Christophe finally cracked open the door to the basement he was renting, which was situated under a bowling alley, the hours of dawn had long since passed. Most decent people were either already sitting at their jobs, working like mules their 40 hours, or getting up, reading the news fax, putting peanut butter (or jelly) on their toasts and grabbing their moka grande late with a twist of lemon and two spoons of genuine vanilla imitation. But Chris wasn’t what most people would call a “decent” person.

To him, morning always equaled hung over. Last night hadn’t been so bad, and he felt in shape enough to get some prep work going before grabbing some quality power nap.

Throwing his bright yellow t-shirt with the pile of worn clothes, in the left corner of what was supposed to be a living room, he walked slowly to the bathroom. The air felt heavy and thick with humidity; something he had still not gotten used to.

For a brief moment, the teenager wished he had some company… someone or something to come home to. If he didn’t take the job, he’d go out and buy a fish… or a turtle maybe. Yea… A turtle was much cooler than a fish.

He studied himself in the mirror for a few seconds. Some of his brown roots were starting to show under the blue… he’d have to eventually redo them soon.

Unless the job called for some discretion.

Turning the cold faucet on, he filled the sink until it was almost overflowing. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and plunged into the abyss. Against his own will, he felt the muscles of his face slightly contract under the shivering assault of a million tiny needles… but a soothing wave quickly over came it. He emerged, completely awakened.

Nothing like ice cold water to put all your ideas into place.

Sponging his face with a rather out of place looking Ares sponsored towel (which he had borrowed from some fancy hotel downtown), we walked to his bedroom… which was basically an empty room with a mattress in the middle. Lifting it, he took his switchblade out of his back pocket, slid it under a plank and pulled. The imitation wooden plank (which was really plastic, just like everything else in 2060) creaked and complained a bit before giving up. Retrieving his precious cyberdeck, Christophe sat on his bed. Right next to him, a gutted telecom unit, whose line he had routed from the reception phone upstairs, sat in wait.

Alright… let’s see what 27h9-Chat-90x8 has in store for us.

Pull the cord.

Jack in.

Wake Marcus up. They had to dig.

[Sphynx]

Miho looks at the digital number on the phone, returning Marv's call momentarily. Marv was a good guy, but not always that bright. People called him when they needed a real tank, literally. He'd been shot over a hundred times, and was the most scarred monster on the planet. Strong and dumb, he'd have been perfectly at home on some ancient battlefield. Miho loved him. If he said there was a job for her, she'd do it, he'd been there for her enough times already. She double clicked on the link, and entered the address tortoise style, 2 inanimate anime-style eyes that just hovered in the virtual room.

[Guest_Overwatch_*]

Konton took the slip of paper with both hands, and bowed deeply. He was honored to be asked to perform a personal favor for the Circle's Master. But he was careful not to let his excitement show.

"I will see to this immediately Sensei, and contact you upon it's successful conclusion."

Konton released his bow only after the Master nodded at him. With that he was dismissed to carry out the circles work. Konton backed out of the room slowly, with his head bowed. He silently slid the shoji screen shut behind him. Konton quickly found himself a large private meditation room where he could study the slip of paper. On it was the LTG number for a private SAN. The nodes address also included an access password, and a prearranged meeting time.

Konton preferred face to face meetings over the constructed illusions of the matrix. But there were reasons for conducting meetings of this nature in cyberspace. The primary one was typically to obscure the identities of the parties involved, but it was just as likely that location was a factor. As a member of the circle, Konton had traveled all over the world on their business. It was not unusual for him to be prowling the streets of Chiba one day, and trekking through the black forests of Europe a week later. However, speculating on the nature of the meeting would lead to nothing but unclear thoughts. He would simply wait and see what fate had in store for him.

Konton thought it best to center both his mind and body before proceeding any further. He stripped down to his form fitting body armor, and removed the longest of the wooden practice swords from the wall of the meditation chamber. First he knelt down beside the boken and focused his breathing. He willed his vision into the astral, taking in the peaceful energies that surrounded the Sohei temple house. He reached inward to find the sense of harmony that lied just beneath his surface. A single moment of perfect meditation that stretched on into the infinite. Without thought, he sprang to his feet, boken in hand. Slowly at first, he began the kata. He chose Kage No Ken the "Sword of Shadows". It seemed fitting for the task ahead.

He worked through the kata repeatedly, each time faster than the last. When he had reached the limits of his speed, he willed himself into the air. His levitate spell added a new level of complexity to the kata, as well as taxing his focus. He pressed himself to exhaustion, although he felt none. Eventually he dropped to the tatami mat floor in a kneeling crouch. Konton was alone in the universe with breath, blade, and heartbeat. He performed the chiburi, a ritual cleansing of the blade of "blood". Konton was was now serene and focused. He ended his workout with a second short kneeling meditation, and then reverently replaced the old wooden sword in it's niche.

He redressed quickly. Konton resembled any other sarariman in his conservatively cut dark blue suit. There was no hint of the arcane warrior that existed mere moments before. He left the temple house quietly, giving Arasuki a polite bow as he passed. He slipped on his synth leather shoes just before stepping back out into the world. His black Suzuki Aurora waited for him in the lot beneath Seattle's perpetually grey sky. Konton checked his watch. He had just enough time to go home and prepare. There was a small matrix cafe near his house that would serve to grant him at least some small measure of anonymity...and they served an excellent Gyokuro tea. Konton sped off in the direction of home.

[Qillin]

Marco after seeing the note knew it was time to get back to his real job and looked at his watch. “Good” he said to himself. Papa Jose’s son from the plantation probably hasn’t left for the city for the weekend. He grabs one of his flip phones and gives a call to Papa.

“Papa will you be heading to the city tonight for the weekend? If so could I grab a ride? I’ll be going out of town for a while. I’ll walk over to you place in about an hour if that’s alright.”

With his ride set up he grabs his 2 bags and puts his cloths and gear in them ready for travel. Then lugs them down the road about 2 miles to Jose’s house. He greats Papa and puts his bags in the back of his truck. “You eat some dinner yet Papa?”

Papa replies, “Yes, you ready to go Q?”

“Yeah one sec, Let me tell your father that I’ll be away for a while” He goes inside and tells Jose that he’ll be out of town for a while and will came by when he gets back into town.

On that note Papa and Marco are off to the city. He make some small talk on the 3 hour car ride and tells his to drop his off near a hotel he has stayed at before. With a wave goodbye he goes in and gets his usual room for the night. (The room on the far corner of the lot, with the oversized safe in the closet floor.) Marco locks most of his gear away and looks at his watch. Almost 1am already. He puts a colt under his pillow and sets the alarm for 10am.

In the morning he will walk the 5 blocks over to Maria’s printing and copies shop. Marco says hi and tries to flirt a little. Maria takes it as a complement and lets his down easy enough. (Q always does his when he gets to the city, and Maria doesn’t mind so much he is a good client and doesn’t push himself on her too much) Q will say good day and wave, then walk down the street to a matrix café grabbing some street tacos on the way.

[Mister Juan]

Christophe’s senses slowly came back to him. The sound of his own slow and relaxed breathing, the slight film of humidity and dampness that had laid itself on his bare chest, the rough texture of the plastered wall against his back. Sighing, he opened his eyes, somewhat satisfied to be greeted by reality.

His digging around the meeting site hadn’t turned as much as he hoped… which confirmed that whoever had set it up had some skills and connections. Chris knew he wasn’t the most drek nova hot decker in town, but he sure as hell was far from being one of the worst. Unplugging the cord from his datajack, he stretched and yawned. He had been up and running for way too long, and energy was starting to lack greatly.

He got up, scratched his stomach and walked to the small kitchen… which closely resembled the bathroom. Picking up a carton of soy milk from the fridge, he took a big swig from it and stopped dead in his track before swallowing. Turning the carton over again and again, Christophe looked frantically for an expiration date.

Ok… just 4 days over it…

Satisfied, he swallowed and drank the rest of it. His hair was still wet… but his whole body was covered in a sticky sweat. The air didn’t circulate very well in the small basement he lived in, and it had a tendency to get very hot, very quickly.

Walking back to his bedroom, a cold beer in hand, he dropped flat on his bed. Looking at the ceiling, he stared wondering how he had gotten where he was. He was still very young, but felt like he had already lived more than most people ever would. Christophe missed Montreal a great deal: the memory of his home seemed so far away… like it was a whole other world that had ceased to exist long ago. He wondered how his family was doing… and if they stilled thought of him sometimes.

Four years is a long time…

Pulling himself in a sitting position, he jacked back into the Matrix to make a comcall and do some more digging. He preferred going straight through the local RTG to make his calls: it was a lot easier for him to cover his tracks, and he didn’t have to pay any phone bills.

Stupid phone company.

[Whizbang]

Carmen stood looking over the burnt out husk of what had at one time been one of the hotest dens of opulence in Corpus Christi. It was a place that, for her, had been a place of pain, and of love. "Pablo." the name was barely a whisper. She remebered all too well the words and blows that had flown as their relationship headed towards it's firey conclusion.

She still didn't know how she had survived the inferno, or for that matter the firestorm of police and media attention that followed. All she knew was that from that day onwards, she had followed the instruction of Parrot, learning to harness the power that, if not for her patron's intervention, most likely would have killed her along with her former lover.

Would she go back to him if she had the chance? She didn't know. Perhaps that was why she had been coming back to this place every year since that day. Too many unanswered questions. She felt a brush of feathers, and a glance into astral showed her the comforting presence of Parrot beside her. For another year, she was content to let matters lie. She turned to head back to her room. Perhaps on the way there, something interesting would happen.

[ Spoiler ]

Intro and a bit of background in one....will have to add in further details to send to you, Ecc.

[Ecclesiastes]

As fate would have it, something interesting did happen as Carmen made her way home. Her phone rang, it was Lanier.

"Carmen! I have missed you darling... How have you been?" Lanier had a way of always sounding overly excited and could drag the word been out forever.

"You have got to get your hips back out on my dance floor! Anyhoooo... I've got some word for ya, and don't worry, no dirty stuff. Check the node address I'm uploading at the attached time and make me proud."

[Whizbang]

Carmen smiled as she heard Lanier's voice. He was always good for digging her out of a funk, which was undoubtably where she'd be if she just spent the day brooding over the past. "Good to hear from you too. I'll have to make it out your way next time I'm free. Of course...with no details, can't say when that will be..." she said, hoping to drag out any further details he might have.

[Ecclesiastes]

"Sorry babe, its all I know. The J was ... dry."

[Whizbang]

"Gotta love hopping into the unknown...oh well. Guess I'll see you when I see you. Keep in touch." Carmen replied.

Returning home to her shoebox apartment, she proceeded to fix up a snack and gathered up her gear, just incase this was yet another one of those missions that required leaving right away. With that done, she settled in to watch soap operas until it was time to slip on the trode rig that enabled her to interface with the Matrix.

[Ecclesiastes]

Somewhere in the Matrix

Thank you for using AnonChat, the best Anonymous Chat Service around!

Wraith opened the door and stepped into the chat node. He closed the door behind himself and locked it. Those who needed to be here had the right key. There was a circle of chairs in the plain white walled room, one if which he took a seat in. A table appeared in front of his standard UMS icon and he began a game of chess to pass the time.

[Qillin]

Marco finished his tacos before entering the cafe. He then walked in and looked for an empty terminal, finding one he walks over and takes a set and starts to get comfortable. Sliding his cred stick in the terminal starts. putting on the head unit he logs in and navigates to the chat room he was told to meet at. Opening the door to the chat room he see only one other avatar in the room.He thinks to himself (I'm not that early em I, well i guess it could be a one on one meeting i guess.) "Hello" He then moves over and takes a seat across from the person. "Will there be more joining us or shall we get started?"

[Ecclesiastes]

The other icon looks up and nods, "There will be others. Have a seat, they should all be along shortly."

The icon turns back to the game of chess unfolding before him.

[Mister Juan]

When Christophe reached the chat node, he couldn't help himself but double check all his ware. He had almost decided to log in without any combat application ready to rock... but decided to follow what his mom always told him when he was a toddler: "mieux vaut prévenir que guérire"(better safe than sorry). Hidden under his virtual trenchcoat was a thick layer of armor utility running. The hood of his coat was also down, but within a second, he was ready to thumb the cloak into action. Even his attack program was itching in active memory.

The main reason why the young decker was a tad nervous about the meet was that he haddn't been able to confirm any of his info... yet. Time was too short and running away too fast. He'd definitly have to set aside some to finish his "prep" work.

Putting his hand on the door, he gently pushed it open and stepped into the room. For a few seconds, he thought about running a few analyze operations on the room itself... but didn't want to flag himself as a decker. At least, not so.

For the meeting, he had chosen to use his usual icon: a tall and skinny faceless man, dressed with jeans and a long dusty trenchcoat. Big gashes in the coat's leather left place for a pair of large and magestic feathered wings. A small animated burning cross seemed to be inked into his shirt.

The faceless figure gave a quick look to both icons, before slightly bowing.

"Gentlemen; good evening."

[Guest_Overwatch_*]

Konton sat at an access station at the matrix cafe. He was in a secluded area near the far back corner, deserted of customers except for himself. He sipped yellow Gyokuro tea from a small white plastic cup. As usual, the tea was perfect. While he waited for the precise time of the meeting, Konton made some final finishing touches to his icon.

For some reason, most people thought of matrix icons as "avatars", an electric embodiment of the spirit. But Konton always saw the icons as puppets, bunraku figures animated from behind the black curtain of the real world. His icon reflected his feelings on the subject. It was a slightly smaller than human sized bunraku puppet. Porcelain faced and robed in the white jo-e of a shinto priest, complete with tall pointed black cap. He also found that the expressionless face of the puppet helped to hide the lack of responsiveness that came with using a trode rig to access the matrix.

Konton caught himself wiping down the matrix terminal in front of him. Since he could remember, he'd always found the need to keep his surroundings clean. While he removed dust from the keyboard and table top, he whispered a small purification blessing. Konton was just about to stand up and wipe down the chair he was sitting in, when a small blue OLED light flashed on his wrist. "Five Minute Warning" his watched glowed up at him in kanji. It was time for the meet.

He drained his tea cup and reached over for the carbon black and silver chrome trode rig that was his gateway to the matrix. Konton gently placed the crown of wires and sensors on his head, and keyed the log in sequence. The matrix cafe disappeared in a flash of white light. Then darkness. The digital world quickly took shape around him, filling the visual void with neon reality. He found himself standing in the System Access Node of the cafe. In the real world, his fingers typed in the meeting node location. In the matrix, the diminutive puppet gestured in the air, and a portal opened which lead directly to the meeting place. Distance was meaningless in the matrix.

He stood before an obsidian door ringed with green neon. "Thank you for using AnonChat, the best Anonymous Chat Service around!" A genderless, inoffensive, disembodied voice spoke from all around him.

Konton keyed the access code into his terminal, and the puppet produced a key made of golden light. A previously invisible key hole was now glimmering on the door. Konton's icon touched the key to the door and it opened, transporting him into the chat node. The inside of the node was an exercise in simplicity. Plain white featureless walls in all directions, and a small circle of black chairs ringed the room's center. There were three icons already waiting when the puppet entered. Two were seated, and a third had just finished bowing and speaking. Konton missed whatever was said. One of the seated figures played a game of chess on a hovering board in front of him. The standing icon was faceless and white winged. It seemed some what more detailed than the others, obvious time and effort went into it's creation.

Konton bowed deeply to all three of them, "Konichiwa, good to meet all of you. My organization was contacted about help with a certain matter. I am here to look into it for them. Please call me Ki."

Konton chose an empty seat between the winged icon and the chess player and sat quietly.

[Sphynx]

The clunky sound of a Tortoise logging in causes a bit of cackle and distortion in the room. A complete amatuer has just logged into the room and seemed to be using a pocket secretary. 2 oversized anime style eyes that look 2-d or drawn on paper, appears at the table, and slowly the words

I...a....m....h.....e..r.e

appears underneath. It's painfully obvious that someone is using a keyboard... someone who can't even type.

What sort of computer illiterate, non-datajack having idjit would be logged onto this room? Shaman perhaps? Troll? Troll Shaman? Whatever it was, it sure ruined the smoothness of the meet. Fortunately, it remained quiet once it had finished typing its first sentence.

Dread covered the room should it have to type more. :P

[Mister Juan]

Christophe hadn't been logged in for a few seconds, than two new personas had joined the room. Beside maybe their apparent "host"... none of the icons seemed as detailed an precisely crafted as his. He had planned on keeping a low profile, but it was obviously a total failure.

He turned toward the puppet. "Ki, I am..."

Lets see.... who shall we be tonite?

"... Gabriel. A pleasure to meet you."

The faceless angel extend his hand toward the puppet, palming skillfully a Scan Icon operation in the guise of the handshake.

"Pleasure to meet you."

Chris knew that probing like this wasn't a very "proper" thing to do... but he was simply to curious. He had no malicious intent in his quest for knowledge; at least, not at the moment.