Prologue: Freedom

Lonestar holding facility - Northern Seattle - November 3, 2070 23:14

Every person, no matter how great or how small, at some point in thier life, has had a defining moment. That is to say the culmination of thier character into a single point in time that shows their true color. Unfortunately for Deputy John Brown, his defining moment was also one of his last.

Coming from a long line of civil servants Brown's life seemed to be, no matter if he wanted it or not, headed directly for the star. His father worked for lonestar, his grandfather had helped found lonestar, and before that, as long as his crazy aunt who was obsesed with geneology had traced back, all of the Brown men had been on the force. While he resented not being able to choose his own path, he knew that the job he had was a vital one, and tried as best he could to act in a proffesional, albeit slightly lathargic, manor. Normally he wouldn't be stuck on guard duty, but due to riots downtown, over something he thought was trivial and didn't warrent his thoughts this evening, the Star was short handed. Brown had, in his earlier days, been trained in the very facility he stood in now and found his mind wandering back to the times of ago. In the depths of a particularly vivid memory the alarm he had set on his commlink, to remind himself to do the rounds buzzed and vibrated. It startled him almost causing the chair he was sitting in to tip over spilling the fully uniformed officer complete with badge and sidearm, across the floor. He caught himself by the toe of his boot, and made a mental note to not try and lean back in a rolly chair again.

Standing up from the desk which monitored trid screens of each corridor, he brushed his hand across the deep grey uniform to get the wrinkles out. There was no one else on this floor, and only the inmates would see him, but he still tried to look presentable and maintain a sense of pride in what he did, even if he knew that the prision could be left unstaffed for two weeks and when they got back it would be just as they had left it.

As part of his training, he had to spend three days in a holding cell, just like a prisoner, to understand how they thought, and also incase the facility had to go on lockdown, so he felt he knew the stresses new imates had to deal with upon arrival. He had gotten into the habit, when he was relegated to guard duty, to talk with new prisoners and try and help them deal with thier new surroundings. Other guards had scoffed at his kindness, but brown didn't like to think of prisoners as caged animals, they were meta-humans just like the rest of us, and deserved to be treated as such.

Complete with a clipboard containing a few sheets of e-paper and a taser strapped to his hip, just because they were meta-human didn't mean some of them still didn't act like animals after all, he walked, with the stride of a man who had been in athority for many years, down the corridors. Most of the inmates had turned in for the night, he assumed to get ready for the no doubt many new arrivals, from this evening's protests, and only a few were still up, writing letters home, or watching the trid. John had never been a big fan of music, he simply didn't have the time to indulge himself like that, so he had never heard classical music before, but as he rounded the corner leading from sections B-2 to B-3, he stopped dead in his tracks, listening to the swelling concerto coming from a dark and otherwise quiet cell. He walked over to the door leaning his ear close to the barred window, trying to hear every subtle nuance the glorious sounds coming from the oposite side had to offer.
"What is that," he asked in a quiet voice to no one in particular.
"It's the Blue Danube," a female voice replied, "do you like it, John?"
"Very much," his voice was soft as if the music were a butterfly that would be scared off if he spoke too loudly.
"Then lets dance," with an organic sounding click the door swung open, knocking John against the railing of the walkway. He whirled, dropping the clipboard, taser in hand striking at what his lying eyes told him was his assailant. His stun baton struck nothing sending him off balance as the woman inside the cell moved, with a nimble grace, smashing his head into the door. As the Blue Danube's cresendo slowly gained momentum so did the verocity grow in his attacker. John was stunned, and all he could do was crawl backward on the floor, leaving a trail of blood behind him. The woman who he could see much better now, was tall and slender, her elven heritage was accented by the high cheek bones and slightly pointed ears, he had only a moment to think what he would say in another setting. Pushing the woman's obvious beauty out of his mind, he stopped crawling, sat up and tried to speak.
"I'm not going to," he paused to spit out a mouth full of blood, "beg for my life." he slowly snaked his hand behind him to the panic button, clipped to his belt.
"But I do have one request," he pressed the button, triggering the silent alarm,"make it quick." He leaned forward, in the tradtion of the samuri he had read about growing up, as a gesture of surrender. She moved swiftly, and before he even knew he had been hit, his field of vision went black and his conciousness faded.

As the music's cresendo rose to it's highest most energetic point, Deputy John Brown slipped from this realm of existance and into the next.


Chapter 1: Redemtion


November 5, 2070 19:00


Your commlink vibrates, signaling a new text message.


I have a job for you, meet me at The Lonely Heart's Club 0100 hours


for those of you with jack crawford as a contact

Entsdale Mall -Southern Seattle -November 5, 2070 19:00
I felt a familiar nudge at the edge of my mind that signalled a incoming message. I used that as an excuse to submerge myself fully in the matrix, and breathed a sigh of releif as reality adjusted itself to a more barable speed.
>I still watched Sebastian's body through a small display window via his cyber eyes. I must remember they are my cyber eyes as well.
>Not as well. just mine.
> Sebastian is long gone, and I am here now.
>I could have read the message in AR, but I like the faster speed of the matrix.
>I am still so slow, but better now.
>much better.
>I am delighted at the message, for I was starting to get bored.
>No matter how facinating humanity is, in all its wonder, I do get bored.
>Thats why I am at the mall, not because I am bored,
>the other reason. (meta)humanity is so much fun to observe. each persona- person, in one basic body, trying to make it their own. What they do with those limited tools is far more expressive then any matrix persona I have ever seen.
>but I degress. I have 5 hours till the meet. I could look him up, trace to trace the signal and see what he has hidden in his commlink, but it will be far more fun to be suprised
>Initiate log seach [when did I last sleep]
>>Searching....44 hours ago.
>I can stay up longer... I really hate sleeping...but I should be fully rested for the meeting



Sebastian snapped back into his body body just as some ork gangers were starting to take interest in his form, slumped on a bench. This mall was near his doss, so it was pretty low securty. He stilled liked to come and watch the shoppers come and go. Sebastian took off his jacket and strenched quickly, part for the sake of streaching, part to insure that said gangers saw his large amounts of muscle. He tossed his jacket back on then headed back to his doss for a catnap. Arriving at 19:20 he set his commlink to wake him at 22:30, and disconnected the mental feed from his cybereyes to his brain, but not before setting the cybereyes to infrared and suscribing them to his commlink, with orders to wake him should any large heat signatures show up.

Humpty's Dump, seedy dockyard area near downtown, round 'bout quittin' time

Al slammed back is third Grolsch and slapped the empty fake-glass stein onto the water-ringed surface of the table, making as much noise as he could in an attempt to call for another round without having to move. Everyone else just used their commlink, but he just couldn't abide it, and the horsey wenches that passed for help in this dive were used to having to come over to the table twice. Francine's legs did look fair-to-middlin' good as she wandered in his direction - he was almost drunk enough to forget the nasty tusks and hog-like snout. He was on the verge of saying something along those lines when that damned commlink thing buzzed - 9 months and he still couldn't get used to it - so he just held up two fingers in her direction and hauled the thing out of his pocket.

Hmmm. Anonymous. Well what kinda manners is that?he thought as he lit a fresh Lucky Strike. Lonely Hearts, huh. Did I give that bartender my 'code?

The beers arrived, and Hun Sen started drinking without the slightest interest in what Al is doing. Al used the tiny screen to access a public directory and call the club.

Assuming he gets through...

Hey Gerry, Al. What's up with this job business?

November 5, 2070 19:00


Gore raised a shaggy eyebrow as his commlink went off,
"blasted technology" The troll mage so hated being disturbed from his contemplations, especially by that blasted commlink. He had been told to get one to "Stay in touch".

"job eh?, hmmmmm" the troll mutters to himself

"right o, well id better get my ... glad rags on i suppose"

Gore slides himself out of his troll sized coffin, puts on his armoured coat and picks up his staff

he walks out into the street and rolls out all his cramped muscles

For Dreks sake i need a new place to rest my head, that blasted coffin is doing nothing for my spine!
Gore smiles

as he sets off to the rendevous....

Dms eyes only

Avie's pad, a nice comfortable small house in the outskirts of the seattle metroplex, November 5, 2070 18:50

Vinny had been silently meditating in his home, finishing a strenous workout. The aromas of his personal kitchen cooking some nice chicken marsala over a bed of linguini filled the air. Vincente's attention was elsewhere tho. After a workout he always wanted to meditate. His meditation helped him get back in touch with the "real" him, lost to so much fake flesh and electronics for so long now. He dreams at night, often times the same dream, and he focuses on the rage within him. As his anger flares, he lets it permeate in his body to twist his soul into a warrior filled with power.

He showers after a bit, freshening himself up, when his comm recieves a text, while the water is running over him. The worst possible timing in the world As he reads he lathers up his hair. Hmm... this is a rather abrupt and shady message. Strange that there is no reply code. Speaking of, how do they know who I am? let alone my commcode? Avenger grunts out loud as he puts his expensively bought programs to work. He runs the analyze for a while, trying to find the sender. Then he calls up his agent, and tells him to run a datasearch on both the sender, and the meeting location, prioritizing credible resources (interpol), and shadowrunning ties. Also looking up Shadowlands and cross referencing both name and location. His sensei always said, "Preperation and knowledge is the key to victory."

Vinny goes back to eat his fully cooked meal from his kitchen. A chicken marsala, with a side of spinach, and some extra garlic bread. He turns on the news which he watches nightly for any major updates in the world as he eats his meal. He double checks with his agent and attempts to refine it's searches to include relevant materials and to ignore the useless obvious lies.

Al

"Eh, der was sum guy pokin' 'is nose around askin' if I knew anybody who was trust worth, 'e looked on the level so I figured with all them stories you tell about yer wild adventures, you'd be da' best person I'd know for the kinda work he had planned."

Vinny
19:30

A blinking icon, signaling a completed search function displays in the lower lefthand corner of avenger's field of vision.

Search Results

>>search function online
>>accessing requested files and nodes
>>search results: positive
>>security encyption:active
>>passcode accepted: welcome Avenger
>>
>>
>>Search Results
>>
>>Sender:Jack Crawford
>>commcode: 555-0019-4237-6
>>occupation: Leiutenant - Lonestar
>>interpol search parameter: classified
>>shadowrunning search parameter: none
>>Shadowland entry: [[posted by Debian 5.23.69 under Gigs/employers]] ...saucy jack as the group came to call him, hired my team to assassinate a mob boss who was untouchable by the law. He's a smooth operator, but he's nothing more than a vigilante with a badge and a few shinies on his shirt.
>>
>>
>>Location Search:The Lonely Heart's Club
>>Address: 2503 Laguna Seca Drive (medium security zone)
>>Seatle Fine Dining and entertainment entry: 3 1/2 stars
>>Interpol search parameter: none
>>shadowrunning search parameter:[[From The Seattle Digest 8.28.67]] ...Today marks the opening of a new night club in Seatle that many claim to be the ultimate club expirence. Opened by a suspected former shadowrunner, The Lonely Heart's Club, promises to appeal to every walk of life...
>>Shadowland entry: [[posted by Captain Chaos 4.20.70 under POI/clubs]]...The Lonely Heart's Club, founded by an old friend, Davin Grey, has a wonderful online presence, a fairly nice dance floor, and from what I'm told a breath taking astral presence, but the most interesting part of the club IMHO, is thier policy concerning weapons. You have to check in anything bigger that a pistol, but you are allowed to enter the club carrying, anything smaller. For those of you who are of limited means however, if your willing to submit to a voluntary MAD scan, and have no weapons on you at all you get 25% off your purchases for the evening. If you enter the online portion of the club, with PAN set to active or passive, with no running programs (except commonly used ones) you are awarded the same discount on your simsense purchases for the duration of you visit. Also for the magic users who may be interested anyone entering the club carrying no foci of any kind, and not sustaining spells, you are also awarded the same discount on your purchases for the evening. If you want to get technical there is no discount, they simply inflate the cost of everything by 25% and charaged armed patrons extra...
>>
>>
>>search results for "Jack Crawford" + "The Lonely Heart's Club": no apparent correlation
>>search function terminated 11.5.70 19:29:27
>>outputing to storage format
>>saving ://search results 11.5.70 19:12:26
>>program terminated


Cogar

Humpty's Dump, 1905, 11/5/70

Well I sure as hell 'preciate y'all's speakin' up on my behalf. But I'm makin' 15 nuyen an hour down here on the docks and...Huh?...How much more?....Well, if it IS a lot more I might give this yahoo a listen, but if you see him, now, you tell him he'd better be ready to pony up at least a couple hundred to start if I'm gonna give up shifts down here. And he's buyin'....Okay, I'll be there....Now what does this joker look like?....Uh huh...uh huh... okay, I reckon I'll know him, so no need fer you to point me out to him, savvy?...Right, thanks Gerry.

So Al goes home, takes a shower and cooks himself some dinner. Then he mosies downtown (or wherever this place is - he takes a bus or train if need be) and is there by 11 or thereabouts. When he gets there he orders a Grolsch and slips Gerry an extra Y20 cash. (If Gerry has any further instructions about the meet, adjust following appropriately) Al takes up as good a vantage point he can, slows down a bit on the beers, and keeps his eyes peeled. Sittin' here in this fancy pants place bored off my ass looking for Mr. No Name - everybody's gotta always be playin' it all mysterious. Sheesh. But best to watch the guy a bit before showing my cards.

At exactly the perscribed time Sebastian leaps out of bed.

Oh thanks the Resoance, I can't STAND sleeping. or being tired. that sleep thing was definatly worth the Distancing.... but happy thoughts! New things! I wonder who it is? A wonderful suprise!

Sebastian runs in circles for a few moments to burn off some energy. Then he hides his Ingram Smartgun X, grabs 3 spares ammo clips for his Steyr (one clip of each kind of ammo), throws on his jacket and Katana, and almost bounces out the door and down the stairs. He catches the bus (the very back corner seat) to the right neck o' the woods, and waits impatiently....

I suppose it wouldn't hurt to take a closer look at the message itself....
The AI submerges himself fully in the matrix. His cybereyes keep watch in a HUD, sorta like a reverse AR, He calls up the text message from its storage on his commlink. He concentrates on the text and its code, the very nature of its algoriths and their tags and signuratures, till they share a single reality, and he know all.

AL

"Well I sure as hell 'preciate y'all's speakin' up on my behalf. But I'm makin' 15 nuyen an hour down here on the docks and..."

"Oh heel be payin' ya' a cut above that m'bucko"

"Well, if it IS a lot more I might give this yahoo a listen, but if you see him, now, you tell him he'd better be ready to pony up at least a couple hundred to start if I'm gonna give up shifts down here."

"E' said e'ed be back 'round midnight, ta set up and things, but I'll pay on yer message if I sees 'em."

"And he's buyin'"

"Ayie, Davi says 'e does most times, lest ye' get rowdy."

Okay, I'll be there....Now what does this joker look like?

"E' abow't yer hieght little on da 'eavy side, you'll see 'em ya can't miss 'em."

"okay, I reckon I'll know him, so no need fer you to point me out to him, savvy?...Right, thanks Gerry."

"Naught a problem boyo"


As Al walks into the bar Gerry gives him a sideways glance, it had sort of become his little secret way of saying hello. He had always liked cloak and dagger stuff, and wished da big man (which is what he called his boss, Davin Grey), would send him off on some of those errands he used to send that grendel fella on. But when asked Davin would always reply, Gerard, you have a powerful sounding name, thing of it is though, your all mushy in the head. He didn't like to be called mushy in the head, but he respected Mr. Grey, and almost looked up to him as a father, having never known his own.

Pocketing his tip from Al gerry leans in, breath stinking of gin and scotch, and says, "You watch the trid in da last couple a days, chummer? Cause it seems the ol' boys down at da star lost somethin' whiles they was all downtown tryin' ta level off da protests, I ain't 'sposed ta say na more, but you and a few other fellas, is gonna be findin' that special sumun."

Sebastian



>
>>
>>Analyze Function Online
>>Commlink Access Code Acepted: Welcome <file corrupted>
>>Analysis Complete function 1
>>Analysis Complete Function 2
>>
>>printing analysis results to screen
>>
>>Function 1
>>return value=1
>>commcode:555-0019-4237-6
>>resgistered: Jack Crawford
>>
>>
>>Function 2
>>return value=1
>>commcode:555-0019-3842-7
>>registered: Al
>>commcode:555-0019-9127-0
>>registered: Avenger
>>commcode:555-0019-9678-4
>>registered: Aku
>>commcode:555-0019-1132-7
>>registered: Patch's People Repair
>>commcode:555-0019-7128-9
>>registered: Gorerak Gregson
>>
>>Function 3
>>return value=0
>>
>>END Analysis Function
>>outputting results to ://analysis_<file_corrupted>/11.5.70
>>backing up resonance image
>>terminate program

On the bus-November 5, 2070 22:47
>Six of us!
>I should drop one a line, say hello early... make friends before walking in blind....
>hmmm... Patches People Repair
> that sounds like a store, and its to late for stores....
>Well, [555-0019-3842-7] came first, so I otta give it a try.
>>Dialing 555-0019-3842-7... regeristered [Al]

Even through the full subermsion, Sebastian grings.. what fun! While he waits for Al to answer the call, he backs up the analyze report onto his commlink, an armband around his left arm.

Avie's pad, a nice comfortable small house in the outskirts of the seattle metroplex, November 5, 2070 19:45

Vinny finishes his meal, and sets it in the sink allowing the automated system take over here. He's gotten a bit comfortable with his fancy new life, but he knows deep in his soul that only one thing can truly make him happy.

He's a very proud man, as he strides his apartment sorting out what he'll need in his mind. Fragging 'star wants a meet. Only problem with star employers is there's only two kinds. 'Star men with overambitious agendas, and corrupt 'star men with overambitous agendas. Guess it can't hurt to meet him tho. If the whole place is gonna be packing heat... I might need a few extra pets with me.

He opens up his "secret" section by playing a certain set of notes on his Yamaha piano in his living room. One of the bookshelves opens up revealing a high tech room that has racks and racks of different gear.

Avenger walks into his room with perfect fluid motions giving away his wired reflexes, as he darts from end to end grabbing what will be most efficient for this meet. He strips off his current clothes, putting on a fresh undershirt. He grabs his two hidden gun arm slides, calibrating the pressure to spring the two lightweight predators. He double checks his ammo and the weapons before clicking the heavy pistols in place. He throws on a respectable clean plain black shirt, before tossing on the Urban Explorer Jumpsuit. He shoves 2 extra clips inside his jacket pockets. He skips over most of his other equipment, but he stops in front of his pets. Buzz and Breeze. These were his minidrones, one a dragonfly looking minidrone that fit in his skinpocket without being noticed most of the time, and his rolling marble life mate Breeze, an offensive style iBall. He pocketed them both, slipping Buzz in the skin pocket. They were both equipped with state of the art sensors, but these little guys were very fragile and were meant to be saved for emergencies anyway.

Avenger finishing his preperations, he decides to watch some trid to relax. and kill some time. His cybereyes bring up the floorplan and gridguide maps of the surrounding areas, and he marks a few routes that were easy to lose tails on his mapsoft, and highlights the exits on the floorplans.

Lonely Hearts, 2305, 11/05/70

Much obliged fer the tip, Gerry, Al says as he hands over another Y20 cash. So if you know any of the other guys tryin' fer this job, and they were to come in here, I'd be real grateful if you'd, uh, Al stammers as he recalls Gerry's love of sneaky stuff, give me one o' them secret hand signals of yers, all on the quiet like, ya know.

Al settles into his vantage point, some stool near a corner that lets him see the main area of tables as well as Gerry. He winces at the awful cacaphony this place passes off as music. Not a real instrument in the whole lineup. He is just lighting his first Lucky when his commlink vibrates. Glancing down at the display he sees (either no caller ID or one he doesn't know).

Now who in tarnation can this be? Not Hun. Not Gerry. Not that asshole boss down at the docks. Awwww geez - did I give that cow from Dirty Dick's my 'code? Best let 'er ring...Unless it's El Mysterioso from the law. Hmmm - best take the safe course. He answers the phone in what is obviously a badly disguised voice, some sort of totally weak attempt at talking corp - Yes, who is calling, please.

Bus, 2305, 11/05/70
Finally! I must remember not to make calls while in full submersion, it takes to long.... time to drop out....
And Sebastian drops back into AR to have the conversation.
"Hi! ummm.... You don't know me but I do beleive we both got the same message about a job at the Lonely Hearts." Sebastian grins as the words flow out of him with excitment. He is skin is tanned and facial structure well formed. Faint traces of dermal plating can be seen under his skin, and he has obvious cybereyes, which look almost like golden snowglobes that have been shook to much.

Lonely Hearts, 2310, 11/05/70

Al immediately changes to his normal voice (a naturally gravelly rasp disastrously exacerbated by tobacco-ravaged vocal cords), though he is shouting to be heard above the club's music. Well alrighty then. Good to hook up with some compadre potential. I'm already here at the club, wearin' a white T-shirt anna brown leather jacket - so why'n't'cha come on over once ya get here and we'll toss back a couple cold ones, at which point, Al concludes with a more menacing grate to his trainwreck of a voice, you can tell me how in blazes you got my number.

The Lonely Heart's Club 11.5.70 2310

As the Goblin punk band, Fleshie squishers, finishes up thier set, the lighting darkens trying to mask the instrument change on the small stage area. After a few minutes of blind fumbling by the roadie crew the stage lights come back up to reveal an elven woman sitting on a stool holding an acoustic guitar. The on lookers could tell that this was one of those authenic acts, complete with real vintage microphone. No wires except the on leading to the amp ran from the guitar, which looked to be about a hundred years old, and the stunning woman on the stood leaned forward speaking very softly into the micophone, "Hi, I'm Vivian McLoy, and I'm going to play a few very old covers for you tonight, Pink Floyd, and Led Zeppelin, this first one is called Welcome to the Machine."

Many of the audience didn't know who Pink Floyd or Led Zeppelin were, but were more than happy to listen to the beautiful woman sing and actually play, a sight not too common these days.

Bus, 2310, 11/05/70
"Oh, I'm on the bus and should be there in about 5 minuets... and I can tell you right now that your commcode was still attached to the message I received, it was sent to 6 people, including you and me," his grin broadens, if that was possible. "See you then!"
He disconnects.
About five minuets later the same smiling face walks through the door of the bar, he stands about 6'2" with brown hair down to his shoulders. He is obviously a vat job, from the dermal plating to the obviously enhanced muscles to the way he seems to flow about the room, seeming to be trying to absorb every detail. He spots Al, gives a shout and sits down beside.
"Nice to meet you in person!"

As Sebastian walking into the Club, a large Troll, places his hand gently, trying to be as none threatening as possible, and in a husky voice says, "Yer gonna wanna check in that slice and dice," he pauses for a moment surveying Sebastian up and down," an' probably that rattle gun ya got up yer sleeve."

The Troll forwards a claim number to Sebastian's commlink and takes the weapons, before stepping away, he adds, "Your carrying some pretty serious gear for a meet, I hope your not going to cause any trouble..." his voice trails off on the last word as he turns and walks to a small door behind the hostess podium he was originally stand behind. With an audible click the door opens, and the troll squeezes through the door way and shuts it behind him.

A younger elven girl, dressed in similar attire to the troll, strolls casually over to sebastian and asks him if he wants a table, but before she could finish her sentence, Sebastian spots Al and goes over to join him. The Elven girl wrinkles her nose at his back, and returns to the stool she had been sitting on and watched Vivian perform her set.

As Al and Sebastian begin thier conversation, the singer brings her current song to a close, and again, as she's done, and will do for each song, leans forward, and announces the song, "This is a song that's very close to my heart, it's Led Zeppelin's Over the Hills and Far Away, I hope you all can enjoy it as much as I have over the years." Her hands move with an uncanny grace, fretting each note perfectly, the warm sound of her fingers sliding across the strings, a sound only acheivable by micing an acoustic guitar, accents each note like an olive in a martini. Her voice is raspy, but still beautiful and melodic, and she begins the song singing softly not trying to emulate the late Robert Plant, but rather trying to honor him, "Hey Baby, you've got the love I need, maybe, more than enough, Oh darlin' darlin' darlin' walk around with me Oooh you got so much, so much, so mu-huch."

Lonely Hearts Club 23:15

Gore watches a few people walk into the club and decides to follow suit, he walks up to the door and eyes the troll bouncer.

Gore stands 7ft tall, he is currently wearing a long black tattered jacket. he has purple hair tied back into a pony tail, and sports a pair of sharp horns. one of which is twisted. Also he wears a pair of black trousers and highly polished black shoes hes also sporting a white shirt under his coat. He is currently wearing a pair of high quality shades looking around the club, for some where to sit

He is currently hold a staff nearly as big as him, it is well made stave with inlays of gold and silver. which are like veins running through the thing.

Bloody rock music.... *sigh*

Lonely Hearts, 2315, 11/05/70

Al watches the obvious vat-job approach, thinking, Aw geez, what've I got myself into here?
Sitting there in the club, Al's appearance is in decided contrast to his surroundings. Although the Lonely Hearts purports to cater to all walks of life - as the eclectic music has amply evidenced - just the fact that it was cleaned this morning puts it a few grades above Al's usual haunts.
He's a short guy, five-foot-six in his beat-up brown Docs. And thin - to Sebastian he looks almost shockingly gaunt, his apparently ancient brown leather jacket - and even the stained, once-white T-shirt - seem loose on his emaciated frame. His jeans, faded almost white, look loose as well, with a bony knee protruding almost arrogantly from a huge rip.
Sebastian doesn't see any of the tattoos or piercings that he has found so prevalent among Seattle's denizens, especially in the Shadows. But then Al looks way too old for that sort of work in any case - well over 50 at first glance, though on closer inspection it seems that that guess may have overshot by a decade or more - aged would not be as accurate a word as weather-beaten - from his pale, almost yellow skin and sunken cheeks, to the bags under his eyes and the unevenly shaven stubble, Al's face looks like it got worked through a 19th century laundry wringer with sandpaper on the rollers. His thick sandy hair looks like it was hacked away from his eyes and ears with a knife. His movements are relaxed, almost lazy, belying the raucous voice heard over the commlink, and despite the sickly pallor, there is a sort of virility in his deep-set eyes.
In the semi-twilight of the club, the lit tip the Lucky Strike in the corner of Al's mouth bobs up and down as he shouts over the music, Boy - you got more 'ware on less years than I reckon I ever seen.
As he reaches for the unfiltered cigarette to flick off some ashes, you can see that his hands are heavily mottled with some sort of burn scars. Siddown, take a load off. Already ordered ya a Grolsch - ya do drink beer, doncha son?
Before the conversation can continue, the beers show up. Thanks sweet-cheeksAl says as he pays her off his commlink but leaves Y10 cash on her tray. I put together a little text message fer yer pointy-eared siren up there - lemme jist have ya pass that on for me, will ya toots?
He returns his attention - and his loud, gravelly voice - to Sebastian. Sorry 'bout that. I'm all yours. Name's Al.

Lonely hearts Club 23:15


Gore Activates his commlink, while waiting to be seated. his glasses spring to life reporting all the rfids in the bar. The troll squints a second and then lets out an audiable sigh

I really dont understand all this junk, bloody expensive for absolutley no use........ Gore Smiles at the Elven lady while waiting...

Lonely Hearts, 2315, 11/05/70
You can call me Seb, thats for Sebastian. he says with a grin, extending his hand for a shake.
"I've never been here before, it sure is fancier then I expected. Like it though. Sorry if I startled you with knowing your commcode and all..."
As he is talking, Sebastian is at work in AR, running a scan complex form to see if there are any commlinks in the bar which have a commcode matching any of the other commcodes that the message was sent to.

Gore

The bouncer gives a friendly nod, when Gore insists on keeping his staff, and calmly points to a sign stating the club uses deadly force in response to fighting. "It's ah new policy, ever since doz guys came in and busted up the place a few weeks ago* da boss has been tinkin' ah ways to sure up da place."

The elven girl, suggests that he have a seat somewhere in the back because his host hadn't arrived yet, and wasn't expected back until at least midnight.

Gore moves through the club, finds a spot at the back as told, and slowly sits down. He's going to look around the room very carefully. He motions for a waitress as one walks past and asks.

Err excuse me my dear, is the manager Davin in this Fine seattle eve?

If she replys yes

he will give her a note that says

Lonely Hearts, 2316, 11/5/70

Sebastian, huh? Al barks, enthusiastically pumping Sebastian's hand with a heavily calloused paw of his own. Damned glad ta meetcha. Damn glad. And never you mind about the commcode thing - hell, ah'm a bit of a computer expert muhself.
Al stubs out his cigarette and a fresh one seems to appear as if by magic between his tobacco-stained fingers. Despite a sudden and frighteningly violent coughing fit, he manages to get it lit with a huge zippo that also seems to simply materialize in his other hand.
So looks like we got a little time ta kill. Ya wanna talk bizniss or pleasure?

Lonely Hearts, 2316, 11/5/70
"Well, I think that if the two don't overlap some, you ain't living right. But I'm young so I may be mistaken about that... " his grin broadens even more, "But I am glad to meet you, and perhaps we should talk about why we are here. I am forwarding what I got from my analysis of the message to your commlink. What do you make of it?"

Sebastian reaches with him mind and draws the files from his commlink, the transferes it to Al's.

Lonely Hearts, 2316,11/5/70

Well, near as I can tell, this is some kinda bounty gig - an' I'm startin' to think it won't be none too easy. For one thing, I hear it's fer the Star - which to my way o' thinkin' begs the question - who's so freakin' hard to catch the Blue Crew can't do it themselves? What about his Crawford guy? He workin' fer the Man?
As he speaks, Al keeps most of his visual attention on Gerry, and on looking for someone that matches Gerry's description of this new boss - Crawford? The Law? Both?

Gore raps his fingers on his table slowly, trying to drown out the sound of this "music" with his own musings

I have to admit it has a beat to it .... gore shakes his head from side to side

Bloody music, next thing you know ill be shouting giddyap and Yeehaw... drek i need off this island...

**Gore then sets his commlink to Broadcast**

Gore

The waitress nods, looks curiously at the note and walks off towards the bar. She pauses momentarily to talk with Gerard, the bar tender, and the carries on into the back room.



After what seems like ten minutes, Davin Grey steps out of the back room followed by the waitress, and walks to the bar. He nods at Sebastian and Al, asking them how they were doing, not really because he cared but rather because it was what the owner was supposed to do. The orc, with broad shoulders seemed almost to be as tall as the troll bouncer at the front, and despite his very large build he looked relatively natural, he had an antiquated datajack on the side of his neck, but other than that nothing. After giving a smile and nod to Al and Sebastian, when they resond to his greeting, he says, "Gerard, why don't you give me two beers, no make that scotchs, the really stuff we keep under the counter, and put it on the buisness expense tab." Gerry looked a little stunned, but pored the drinks "da big man" ordered. As if reading the puzzlement on Gerard's face, he comforts, "he's a friend and if I'm not mistaken here on buisness, you keep an eye out for the other three and let me know when they get here, you clandestine efforts, my dim whitted friend shant go unrewarded," his voice trails of as he steps away from the bar, walking in an indirect way carrying two full glasses of real scotch to the table were Gore sat.

Lonely Hearts, 2316,11/5/70
As Sebastain listens to what Al is saying, he composes a quick missive to Gore:
Hey, my name is Sebastian [pic of Sebastian], and I got a message, just as you did, about a job opertunity from Jack Crawford. I am sitting in this very bar right now with another man, Al, [pic of ]Al taken just now with cybereyes] and I thought it would be dandy if you could join us to chat before Jack Crawford gets here.

"hmmm... bounty, that should be interesting, and frightning if the Star won't touch it.... maybe its personally, somthing they can't get personally invovled with." Sebastian keeps gazing around teh room, trying to guess which Gore is, cyber eyes absorbing and recording everything.

**Gore looks up from his table and sees davin walking across to him**

Ahhhh, Davin old boy, hope this beautifull seattle evening finds you well how have you been holding up?

ive been sent a message from a Chap to meet here on "business" any idea of whats "going down?"

gore takes a Swig of the scotch

"I've been good, my friend, buisness is going fine, and I've just recently gotten my hands on a particularly valuable magic artifact." He fishes around in his pocket for a moment and produces a small scrimshaw turtle.



"As to your buisness here tonight, I can't say, all I can say is that he came to me looking for a good man or two, for a little job, and you seemed like the best person for it, so I gave him your commcode, and told him he could rely on you," He pauses for a moment taking a sip of the 40 year old scotch, savoring it in his mouth," If you look over my shoulder you'll see two gentlemen sitting at the bar the one who looks chromed to hell and back and the guy he's talking to, those are some of the guys you'll be working with on this, if you want the job that is."

*gore holds up his hand for a second as he accesses his comm for the message...*

Ah yes davin, one of them just sent me a message, i shall speak to them in a moment, nowwwww as for this item lets see

*gore looks at the item....*

Curious as to what the the man ordering all the fancy stuff is up to, Sebastian watches him walk off to talk to a troll, and get somthing out of a pouch. Activating his the image magnification in his eyes, and takes a look at what was produced.
How peculiar he thinks, then turns his full attention back to Al.

*Gore leans back putting your his fingers together*

How much did you pay for this item? *stops davin before he speaks*

nevermind... if you payed more then 150 nuyen you were robbed.

This turtle is a magnificent copy but has its flaws

1. the original is made of whale bone
2. the REAL one is now sitting in the Dunkelzahn Institute for Magical Research
and finally 3. you are still owner of this bar, so you have not offered a kings ranson for it, as the original is worth this club 10 times over.

Davin...

*gore sighs*

i do wish you would come to me before making Wild "magical" purchases, i am as you know the authority in these items my friend.

As for retrieval of said moneys paid for your turtle, i would be happy to go and claim the money back from the turd who sold it you

Gore puts his hand on Davins shoulder lightly...

I could break a few bones while i was there

with that gore lets out a loud belly laugh

"Good eye, my friend, I had to look at it quiet a while before I figured that out, and as reguards to price, my niece gave it to me as a birthday present, she said that it represented what was good in the world and I should keep it on my desk. I just wanted to get your blood running," he gives a robust laugh at his own joke, though stops himself short wondering if it was really that funny. "But I will admit, you are definately the man to go to when you need to authenticate rare artifacts" He leaned back in his chair, smiling, he was always a joker, had been even for the red guard, which might have something to do with why he wasn't one of them anymore.

yes excellent centiment there, good in the world nowadays is a hard thing to come by, specially in the "shadows".

anyway enough chit chat, i think i should go and introduce myself to the "team" *Gore snorts*

nice talking to you friend, ill let you get back to your business, ill pop by to say cheerio when i leave

*gore pats davin on the back in a friendly manner then stands up picking up his staff.*

looking over at the two behind him at the bar...

Lonely Hearts, 2316, 11/5/70

Lonely Hearts, 2316, 11/5/70 [/B]
"Well," Sebastian says, checking the troll's AR display, "UNless I am mistaken, he is either Gore or a man with Gore's commlink."

Lonely Hearts, 2316, 11/5/70

Heh, Al grunts, I'll take door number one on that'un.

Al appears on the verge of saying more (when isn't he?), but is seized by another violent fit of coughing. The truly amazing thing is that no matter how hard he hacks, the Lucky Strike remains persistently nested in the corner of his mouth. He seems to get control of himself just as Gore rolls up, capping the episode by expectorating a seemingly fist-sized glob of mucous into his empty beer stein.

Lonely Hearts, 2316, 11/5/70

Nasty cough you have there chummer, i believe you gentlemen are here to see someone about a job *gore smiles*

i am too

Gore looks at sebastian

how did you get my Comm number?

Lonely Hearts, 2317, 11/5/70
"Hi! It was attached to the message I got from Jack, as well as five other numbers, myself and Al inlcuded. Since we all seem to have gotten the same job offer, I thought you might like to have a chat with us. And my name is Sebastian." Still smiling, Sebastian extends his hand to shake Gore's

The PPR - Seattle - November 5, 2070 19:00

With the poise and precision only years of experience Patch removed the last bullet that was dangerously close to his patient's spine. "Lucky kid. Couple more inches and he would have had to replace his spine."

Morey pipes in, "Don't people realise they are supposed to avoid bullets?"

"Sometimes ya just can't. And besides, it keeps us in business."

The comlink on the table nearby vibrates itself off and onto the floor.

*Sigh* "Morey can you close him up?"

"Sure. I hope that is more business calling. Things have been kinda slow lately."

"Yeah I know." I hope its that other kind of business, cuz things have been real slow lately.

Patch views the message. "Hmm... Straight forward. Good. Anonymous. Not so good. Ahhh... Meeting at the Lonely Heart's Club. Very good."

"Morey, I'm gonna head out later. Be sure to set Fluffy to patrol tonight."

"Sure thing Patch. Take care."

"I'm not leaving yet." Should plan on getting there about 12:30 "Now move over and let me see your work. No, no, no, the stitches have to be bigger. This guy wanted a scar as a reminder." Youngsters never listen.

Lonely Hearts, 2317, 11/5/70

Never you mind me, chummer, Al croaks, wiping is hand on his jeans and extending it up to the troll. Just gettin' over a little sumthin. Anyways, Seb here says you go by Gore. Why'n't we bring ya up ta speed? At which point Al (and Sebastion?) shares what they've put together so far (roster, Johnson, bounty hunt).

Lonely Hearts, 2317, 11/5/70
Sebastian also joins in bringing Gore up to speed, including transfereing the full list of people

Lonely Hearts, 2317, 11/5/70

Bount hunt eh? should be a laugh im runing low on spondoolies, need some money to keep house and all that.

nice to meet you both, you said there were more people on the list ... where are they ???

Can you not bring up theyre locations just like you ... magiced up my number ?

Gore looks at sebastion

Lonely Hearts, 2317, 11/5/70
"Check you commlink for the names," Sebastian says, "and, um, I can try to find the other people.... but" Sebastian leans close to Gore, looking slightly embarassed, "If I start bleeding from my ears...please put a hat on me..." then his expresssion turns blank... and his body becomes more then slightly rigid.

*gore grabs sebastian making sure he doesnt fall off his chair...*

is this guy ok ?!

Lonely Hearts 2318 11/5/70

Al takes a deep drag on his Lucky, then a slow pull of Grolsch before answering. Hell, just met the kid five minutes ago. Reckon he's one o' them new-fangled wireless deckers, er, ahem, hackers? It's that or some kind o' bio rejection, Al concludes, gazing leerily at the snowball eyes and obvious dermal plating. After about ten seconds, though, the young man looks okay, and Al shrugs the whole thing off.
Giving the troll's staff the once-over, he rasps Helluva frog-knocker ya got there, pal.

Lonely Hearts 2318 11/5/70

*Gore Smiles* Yes... frog knocker .... how quiant.... it is my pride and joy, it was made for me by an old friend who has since departed from this world and gone to cast magic in the skys


*Gore Sighs*

he was a nice guy, but never mind this, next round mine then ?

*gore goes to the bar to buy bears for all

Lonely Hearts 2318 11/5/70

Al watches approvingly as Gore goes for beers. "Now there's a fella with 'is priorities straight," he says to Sebastian. "You, on tha other hand, my young friend, had best pace yerself a touch - ain't even got the damn job yet and already talkin' about bleedin' out'cher ears." Another drag on his cigarette, and Al waxes nostalgic - "Usta be ya had to at least have some cables pokin' out'cher head fer that sorta mayhem ta happen. Nex' thing ya know, a pore sucker'll jest be strollin' down the street an' 'is dad-blasted head gonna jest up an' explode, way the Man got this crazy Wifi crap set up."