Etain
Monday 6/23/70 8:01:23

Etain drew a long and deep breath as she thought about how to answer that question. Sure, she had dreamed of her talent making her a “superstar” but what little girl didn’t while they were singing in the shower, or dancing in front of a mirror with a hairbrush in their hand like an old style microphone. She expelled the breath just as slowly while she really thought about her answer.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Her brow furrowed as those words came out of her mouth.

“What I mean is, it’d be foolish to throw away everything I’ve been working so hard for all my life. I would love to share my gift with as many people as I could, to touch them, to make them feel emotions because of my voice. But there is a part of me that wonders about how one has a personal life, let alone a family, when they’re in the spotlight. I mean sure, it’s not like there are scandals in the tabloids everyday about opera singers, or even theatrical singers. But the celebrities, the media stars… the way they get dragged through the mud and the way their lives are put under a microscope. How does someone like Rebecca DeFontaine manage to keep her personal life private when her professional life is so public, when she can’t go to the coffee house down the street, or go to the store to buy a pair of knickers without a camera snapping pictures, or people getting up into her face and writing about who she’s seen with and when they’re getting married, or what shocking news that she’s now a half-dragon lesbian with additional male anatomy….”

She was passionate as her future dissolved into a mini-rant about all the things she hated about publicity and yet she felt like a hypocrite since she along with Fiona and Kelin spent many an hour reading up on all the latest gossip of big celebrities.

Shaking her head before her tongue really ran away with her she sank back against the plush softness of the sofa she was sitting on and turned her gaze away from Patrick for a moment to stare at the road laid out before her, speeding past her as she watched.

“I guess what I’m saying is I really don’t know.”

John
Thuresday 2/6/70 21:03:24

The elf is kneeling in one of the old wood benches of St. Mary´s Parish in Bellevue. Waiting for the last visitors of the thursday evening mass to leave he halfheartedly pretends to pray in silence.

The day had gone by in no time, while his team searched for apropriate Ares holdings in the UCAS and CAS. The Ares Arms uranium refinement and enrichment facility in Oak Ridge, near Knoxvile and the GM copper mines at White Pine and Keweenaw, south of lake superior looked very promissing, as did the Ares Macrotechnology zinc mines in Missouri and at Edwards/New York, among some others. Meanwile, RFS´ specialists had updated the analysis of Daviar´s decisions on the Ares board of directors.

Dunkelzahn´s presidency slogans streame through John´s mind, as an old woman moves past in a crawl. Deeply wrinkled face, lightgray eyes, conservative, dark dress and a huge silver crucifixe. When she gives him a look of disdain, she reminds the elf of Marry Finnigan. La Grand Dame had never approved of a metahuman being involved in important family business - let alone with an important family member. The old lady must really be strugling to cope with the Order of Hermes officially being included into her family. At this thought, a sly smile crossed his face and the old woman looked away and hurryed on in an almost melodramatic display of disgust.
After looking around for a while, his eyes catch the confessional - it has easily been a douzend years since. Finally his thoughts turn inward for a few moments.
A middleaged man in a prohibitively expansive, white Actioneer silk-suite kneels beside the banch infront of John, crosses himself and sits down.

Ian: "While you are at it, tell him to make the sea-hawks win."

John: "Good to see you, Mc!" The elf crosses himself and sits back.

Ian: "You are really into these mobster stereotypes, aren´t you? Man we should have met at my condo. There are these twins -elves- I sware, they´d make any of these NIJ suecide bombers think twice! How are you - how´s business - time to go get drunk or something?"

John: "Maybe I´ve got time to do some clubbing tomorrow night, but I can´t tell yet." Alice was still trying to get a meeting with Karen King for her boss, but had not yet gotten back to him. "Business is ... busy. I´m fine. How´s the family?"

Ian: "They are fine. Now that the mess with the Butcher is sattled down here, uncle Lee is less distracted from his operations at home and in Chi-Town. Connor ´s going well, too, but you know better then I do, how things are running in the east. So why did you want to meet?"

John: "Way back in ´55 I read something about the japanese white-collar operations in Chicagoe heavy industries." He leans forward and puts a data-chip into his friends hand, that´s containing the intelligence files on Keiji Hiroshige and UCAS Steel. "Some kind of sokaiya, maybe. I´d apreciate any information you can get on this one."

Etain
Monday 6/23/70 08:03:00

The bus passed through the gates of the O'Neill lands and out onto the public highway. It was still a rural road, however, surrounded by the Tir's rolling green berms stretching out to either side.

Patrick listened to her intently, and answered with enthusiasm - "I absolutely agree that you should never give up your gift and hard work. I suppose the question would be whom you choose to share them with. It would indeed be an incredibly humane act to let others see your art, but at the same time, how intimate to hold it in reserve, unveiling only privately for those tied to you by blood or affection. Or at least by a demonstrated ability to appreciate what you have to offer.
"But the beauty is that the choice is yours to make. I mean, many with gifts similar to your own have no choice but to perform on others' terms and for the widest possible audience - the need to earn their daily bread forces them to remain in the limelight at the whim of the unwashed masses. You, Etain O'Neill, hardly need worry about those sorts of things. You could easily make a public career on your own terms, without catering to the lower aspects of the entertainment industry. You could...if you played your cards right....have the best of both worlds."

Etain
Monday 6/23/70 08:03:47

"Perhaps, I'm just not certain that I'd be strong enough to handle it if a public career went nasty on me. You know, I think the real twist in it all is even if I chose to keep my singing a more private affair, to "unveil" it to those tied to me by blood or affection, how does one determine that the affection is genuine or if they're just star chasing?"

She turned her eyes away from the beautiful scenery outside to look at the scenery inside the bus. She watched his face for his reaction, her words as much of a test as an honest question to which she looked forward to his answer.

"Well," Patrick replied in his endearingly logical manner, "Right now it should be easy - simply take note of how people treat you now, before you become a world-famous diva. Those that suddenly treat you well after that - that's trickier. So I suppose you must meet - and become well acquainted with - as many people as you can - or maybe just one, now, while you are still a diamond in the rough."

He got it, at least it seemed he understood her dilemma more than most. That first hurdle passed she continued.

"Being tied to me by blood is easy enough, the O'Neill's have well-documented heritage and pedigrees if you will, just as much as the O’Donnell’s lineage I’m sure. But fame, it changes people. Some for good, others for evil. It changes those around them as well. I suppose one could go paranoid worrying about it, second guessing those that you thought you could trust.”

She shook off her darkening thoughts a bit, as she lost herself in Patrick’s eyes.

“I fear my mouth has run away with me again. Enough about me, tell me all about Tokyo and the undoubtedly exciting times of law and economics. Surely there must be some secret to it that draws people like yourself to such a field?” She lowered her voice conspiratorially and leaned forward a bit, batting her lashes melodramatically. “I promise I can keep a secret.”

Etain
Monday 6/23/70 08:08:00

"Well, given the choice between discussing Tokyo and economics...how shall I choose?" Patrick asked ironically. "Trust me when I tell you, my manners are better than to bore you with work. But Tokyo - I would love to take you there, although for a short trip Kyoto is by far the better choice. Tokyo's richness lies in its people, but it is a richness not revealed to outsiders lightly. Kyoto, on the other hand...I think of the mysteriously evocative ambiance of Fushimi Inari Shrine at midnight and I feel this overpowering urge to try to describe it to you, but words cannot do it justice. Or Kiyomizu Temple lit up for the O-bon festival. Yes...." His eyes went far away, as though imagining something, "Yes, I would indeed like to see you there."

John
Thuresday 2/6/70 23:58:36

John shifts his weight from one side to the other uneasily. Sweat is running down his nack, but his breath is still even.
Ian had aggreed to find out everything he can on UCAS Steel´s nippon-connection on the condition that they would both share a drink tomorrow night and maybe do some partying in town. He had tryed to do so anyway if at all possible, the oportunities to see his buddy had grown far and few between in the last months.
A big fist slams into the elf´s face and sends him staggering backwards. He trys to keep his hands up, to protect his head and torso as good as possible, but the ringing in his head makes him drop his guard for a second. The moment of weekness is punished by a hard kick crashing into his temple, making him stumble several steps to the other side, hard pressed to stay on his feet.
The problem with his multitasking has allways been, that it didn´t work in combat. Unfortunately his thoughts are continuously drifting away anyway, making his reflexes slugish and slow, despite elaborate skill-circuits.
Kob grants him a minute, to put his head back together, befor they start circling each other in the ring again. If his head and body wheren´t padded, he would definitly be knocked out allready, dispite his ork bodyguard pulling his punches.
John launches an attack and connects, but the experianced fighter rolls with the punch, taking most of the force out of it - which wasn´t much anyway. Stepping inside the elfs guard, he rams the elbuw into his oponent´s guts, to keep him occupied, while he grabs his still extended arm and twists it around his body. With a twist of his torso, the ork sends his boss flying through the air and onto the ground.

John: "Ahhh ... hahaha!"

The lawyers arm is painfully distorted, putting much strain on his shoulder, ellbow and wrist. His screams of pain are interrupted by laughter, but his tormenter dos not releas him, untill he taps the mat, to give up.

As usual they end the training with a meditation-seccion. Usually, John had used these sessions to think about work, but as he trys to implement Manolo´s instructions and it seams to work. As he concentrates on his breath, he is relaxing deeper and deeper.
Half and hour and a quick shower later and gets ready for bed. It is less then 5 hours till the morning brifing will start in Boston. Sleep comes surprisingly fast and easy and is thankfull free of dreams.

John
Friday 2/7/70 13:13:13

The brifing in the morning went well. After that, John had planed to go jogging in Denny Park, but proving the wether forecast wrong, it had rained heavily all day. So he had only done a few miles in the gym, while he had read through his file-updates. After a breakfast of grapefruit, cerials, toast and omlet with milk, fresh juice and amazonian coffee -all reall and natural, off cause- He had gotten a good part of today´s workload done, untill it was time to get under the stylist´s expert hands, before he was heading for Massachusetts Steet. While the three asian ladys and the bald and strikingly gay ork did their wonderous work, the elf re-read the last-minute updates on his 'Samantha Villiers' and 'Nadja Daviar' knowsofts. When they where done, he had the impacable looks of a cover-model - like a man, who looked great without doing anything for his apearance. His attire, that subtily hid it´s prohibitive cost, off cause matched these looks.
Now he is sitting in a comfortable Eurocar Shark 6000i executive, again sifting through ShadowSea and DIVE blogs on Gavilan Ventures, while the car -escorted by two others and some areal drones- makes it´s way down I5, then swiches to I90 and then Rainier Ave S. When they turn left into Massachusetts Steet, he braces himself for the meeting ahead, as they aproach the seven towers surrounding the NeoNET NW main compound.
He smiles as Alice sitting oposite to him, relays to him some privat pictures of Manolo and his family, which where currently spending his half day off in TD Banknorth Garden. He had loved to spend the extra fee time with them, but with his seattle meeting and Manolo´s upcoming trip to the Lakehurst Clinic, it had been impossible.

Angus

Friday 8/1/70 20:43:05

"That’s a ways out there Champ, it’s going to be a long ride and cost me some good local fairs. But I'm sure you're good for it." The cabbie turns back to his job and keeps the cab moving through the downtown traffic heading for the 5.

As traffic passes by Angus takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, finally getting a chance to breath with out looking over his shoulder. It hadn't even been an hour since he was walking down the entryway to start the biggest fight of his life and now here he was on the run.

The drive out to Redmond passed quickly. Once out of downtown they headed north on the 5, then merging on to the 520 which took them to the Evergreen Point Bridge, which got the across Lake Washington. Crossing the 405 they kept heading east, then the freeway turned north taking them into Redmond and through Touristville. Once in to touristville they had to move back to the city streets. This took them out along Avondale road and then on to NE Novelty Hill Road.

During the ride Angus had sat quietly considering what his next step might be. He happened to look out the window as the cab turned on to NE Novelty Hill Road. Seeing that he realized his short rest was going to come to an end soon. Looking over the seat he could see that they had been on the road for over 45 minutes. As he tried to stretch his body screamed in pain as all the hits he had taken during the opening round of the fight came crashing back in on him. "Unghh." He grimaced but kept moving cause he knew from experience that if he didn't keep moving he wouldn't be able to soon at all.

Friday 8/1/70 21:29:13

"Ok champ we're here." Indicated the cabbie as he pointed out the window of the cab. Turned in to the parking lot of the Novelty Hill Sleep & Eat, Angus was reminded why this was the barrens. He hadn't seen this many rusted out hunks of slag in one place for a long time.

As the cab came to a stop Angus gathered his duffle bag, and shoved the towel bag down into the floor board behind the drivers seat. Winching as he moved he slid across the seat and opened the passenger door. Willing his body to move he stumbled out of the back seat almost falling over. Fortunately it was dark and no one was on the street at this moment and time. Stepping over the open passenger window he leaned against the cab as he slid his cred stick out of his pocket, doing his best to keep its rating concealed in his large sore hands. "Ok, that’s going to be 50 big ones for trip." Explains the cabbie.

Angus smiles, "No problem," he replies as he slots the stick in the reader setting it to pay the tab and deposit an additional 100 nuyen as a tip. Pulling the stick out he looks up at the cabbie and smiles, "Do me a favor, and forget that you saw me tonight, at least as far as anyone official like is concerned, Wiz? Thanks for the ride. Oh and there are a few souvenirs in the bag in the back seat for ya."

Not waiting for an answer Angus stands and straightens himself out, he turns his back and starts to walk slowly toward the front door. As he gets close to the entrance he keeps his head down to make it a little harder for the security cameras to get a good image of him. Hearing the cab pull away he stops and waits. Then turns to look and make sure the cab is back on the street and moving away.

Giving it another thirty seconds, he then turns and starts the relatively short walk down the street looking for somewhere a little more private to crash for the night. Even though he only has to go 6 blocks to find what he wants it feels like 6 miles to his sore and beaten body.

Finally he comes to what he wanted a nice, well not really nice, but a simple coffin motel that had slots vacant sized for a troll. Looking around to make sure no one was in sight he pulls the large solid door open blinking as the auto lights come on inside.

Damn coffin is right, but at least it will be softer than the street. The small room, no make that closet had just enough room for him to stand inside as he slotted the cred stick. Watching it deduct the 30 nuyen from the stick and a timer start Angus smiled, Sleep at last. He then pulled the door shut, actually enjoying the sound of the large locks securing the door closed.

With a little work and a lot of pain he strips his clothes off, just leaving them in a pile on the floor and crawls in to the bed and what appear to be relatively clean sheets. With in minutes he’s sound asleep, not even really giving him time to ponder what tomorrow will be like as a wanted criminal.

John
Friday 2/7/70 13:57:00

The elevator opened onto a vast lily pond.

Nearly the entire expanse of the top floor of the skyscraper that was home to Samantha Villers' office, from the elevator at one end of the floor to the plushly carpeted reception area at the other end, was crystal-clear water, a sprinkling of lily pads punctuating the darting of Japanese koi, like an Escher etching.

A meter-wide archless stone bridge would take them the 50-odd meters across the pond, lit by floor-to-ceiling windows the entire way. John felt sure the ceiling would have been transparent concrete as well if they'd been able to make downtown a no-fly zone - but couldn't have any pesky HSCT flyovers disturbing anyone's wa, now could they?

A receptionist gracefully relieved him of both his coat and his assistant with equal ease, and he was ushered into the inner sanctum of arguably the most powerful businesswoman on the planet.

She came around the desk to meet him, manicured hand outstetched. Didn't look a day over 35, although of course she was considerably older. But there was no sign of the work she'd obviously had done, nor was there a trace of jewelry on her person once she'd removed the platinum-rimmed AR glasses she'd been wearing at her desk. She was tall and lithe and her skirt-suit was decent by millimeters. The sides of her head were shaved to about a centimeter, but a mane of black (today) hair swept back into a thick pony-tail - John had just seen that look on the splash page of a fashion daily this morning.

"John Fitzalan-Howard. A pleasure. I am surprised we haven't met until now." After shaking his hand she took a step back and appraised him carefully, looking him up and down, not minding making him wait as he stood there being inspected. He must have passed muster because she motioned him to an arrangement of divans overlooking Puget Sound. "Miles thinks you are absolutely the best at what you do. But he doesn't trust you. Says you're unreliable. But he's arrogant enough to think he can keep you on his leash. Wouldn't tell me what this meeting was about. Said you'd pitch me better than he could. Pitch me, John."

Angus

Saturday 8/2/70 ??:??:??

Angus starts moving slowly as he wakes up slowly, his body aching as it always does the morning after a fight. At first he forgets where he is and starts his day by slamming his head in the top of the sleeping area of the coffin motel he spent last night in. Oh, yeah that’s right I'm wanted for murder now. Sighing he lays back down and thinks for a few minutes.

So I've come full circle, started my life in the barrens and here I am back with little hope of ever getting out of them again. I just hope Skinny takes care of mom & dad, they don't deserve this. Guess I best see how bad it is and see what I can do to survive another day.

Angus rolls over and reachs across the small opening to turn on the trid built in to the door, noticing that by the time left on the timer for his room its almost noon. At least I got to sleep in, better then at home. Skinny would have had me up at six to go for a run this morning. As the trid powers up Angus starts scanning through the channels looking for some of the all news stuff, figuring even if hes not the top story it should take long for them to cycle around to it. The news was the same old stuff, corp this, corp that, eco-terrorist blowing one plant or another up, and of course the night running gun fights as the shadowrunners did everyones dirty work. After about twenty minutes and the only thing mentioned was him winning the fight and that Kameda had died shortly after the fight. But they didn't seem to mention if it was a result of the fight of something else. One reporter also mentioned that Angus had not been seen all night, which was a little odd due to his known habit of hitting the town after a win, but no one was making a big deal of it yet.

Whats all this mean? Were Bruno & Skinny wrong or was it a trick to get him to turn himself in? Bruno seemed pretty sure of himself, and Angus had never known him to sugar coat or blow things out of proportion. As Angus sits there trying to figure out what this all means his body reminds him of some more basic needs, like food. Maybe this will at least give me a chance to get a few things before I have to disappear completely.

With that thought Angus extracts himself from the sleeping area and puts his clothes from last night back on. Gathering his duffel he pushes the release bar, allowing the door to open and turning off the lights & trid. As he steps out he scans the hallway and then heads for the front of the complex.

Saturday 8/2/70 12:37:05

Walking out Angus sees some vending machines that appear may still have something useful in them. Looking things over he finds some cheap soy-bars, which while not real food will at least keeping him moving. He uses a few of the 5 nuyen coins he has to pay for those not wanting his credstick scanned here, just incase someone knew about it. The second machine seems to have toiletries and such, which luckily Angus had with him from the gym. The third one is the jackpot for him, It has cheap flats, specifically a plastic hooded jacket that he could use to help make him harder to recognize. Paying for that with some more coins he pulls it from the machine opening it up. Realizing the cheap flat jacket would look odd with his leather jacket, he takes the leather jacket off and stuffs it in the duffle bag. Then putting his new threads on pulls the hood up and shoulders the bag.

As he gets to the street it appears that the rotten Seattle weather may actually work for him, as usual its gray out and a slight drizzle is falling. Which out here could be very bad. At least now I won't look weird with the hood up.

Angus keeps his head down and does his best not to make eye contact with anyone as he continues down the block away from where the cab had dropped him off the night before. The more space between me and that place the better.

With in a few more blocks Angus finds what he’s looking for, a Stuffer Shack, where he can at least get some warm food and maybe a few things to help change his appearance.

John
Friday 2/7/70 13:57:00

When the elevator gentely comes to a stop and it´s doors open without a sound perceptible to the natural ear, the elven lawyer suddenly feels naked without his bodyguard. The fifty-odd-meter-path from elevator to reception area on the topmost floor of the NeoNET NW central compound is the perfect killing zone. Huge windows, absolutly no cover and a one meter wide bridge, that dosn´t even allow for two persons to walk side by side. There isn´t even enough room to dodge.
Still, the lillies are beautyfull, as are the koi. Mostly sanke and showa -white or black fish with red and black or white patterns- as well as some asagi with light blue scales on top and red on the bottom. All cautously keep their distance when Alice and John step on the bridge, except one huge, black goshiki, that is curiously approaching them, coming as close as a half meter, before he turns away and then slowly approaches again.
A glance to the side gives a fantastic view. One bullet from a highpowered sniperrifle -like the one the Chimera used to off 'The Hammer' 12 years ago- and he might be history. For sure, the windows are centimeters of armored compound materials, still there is an opener for every can out there. It would be an easy shot from a ruthenium-covered stealth-blimp. According to John´s sorces the 'Qualle', the rigger he had once hired in 2063 was still out there.

After what seems like minutes, they arrive at the receptionist´s desk on the other end of the room and the visitor hands her his unarmored Mortimer of London Great Coat. As expected, Alice is unobstrusively guided to stay outside, as her boss enters Samantha Villiers´ office.

When the attractive head of NeoNET NW gets up from her chair and walks around the table, the lawyer quickly scanns her top to bottom and back, coming to rest his gaze on her eyes. If he hadn´t done his homework, John would have genuinly belifed there had been some mix-up and he was meeting Cara Villiers. He spares them from this cheep compliment even if it was true, however.
She extends her lith hand and he takes it with a firm grip. Her handshake is exactly the strength as the files had predicted and so the presure John had practiced to put into it was only a bit stronger.

John: "The pleasure is all mine! I would have made up an excuse to meet you long ago, but time is allways so scarce."

When she steps back and scanns him, he keeps his eyes trained on her´s and never lets his smile falter. Normaly he would probably have fealt uncomfortable under such scruteny, but he had been prepaired for this. Still he was a bit flattered that she apearantly held some respect for him - or at least he was important enough to put up a good fake.
As she mention´s Lanier´s mistrust, he feels the presure increase, but he seems to keep his cool better, since this whole deal had started. At the baseball-reference, he deliberately arches an eyebrow for a milimeter only. He has little love left for that particular sport, but he knows that Lanier and Villiers are into that stuff and so he keeps his files up-dated on the NABL.

John: "I´d be surprised if Mr. Lanier finds any more people reliable, then Sukie Redflower has fingers on her left hand. I guess it comes with the job - and he´s probably the best at what he dos. Well, here is the fastball. As you are aware ..." The elf starts to brifely reiterate the situation at hand and his general strategy in case she is not aware of it.

Etain
Monday 6/23/70 08:08:25

Etain found herself getting lost in Patrick’s eyes as he began to speak about Tokyo. His feelings and the impression it obviously made on him were strong and passionate. She watched him as he all but left the bus in his mind, transporting himself back to the sights and sounds on the streets of Tokyo and then the entrancing beauty of Kyoto and all of it’s mysteries.

His words intrigued her, made her want to hop the next sub-orbital to Tokyo with a long side trip to Kyoto, but only if he were to be her tour guide.

“It sounds like it has to be put onto my “Must See” list immediately. But then again I’m not sure the trip would be quite the same without you.”

Another hot flush bubbled up into her cheeks and she was forced to look away from Patrick’s perfect features and began studying the intricate weave of the carpeting on the bus. She had often been the subject of one or another boy’s affections, however she was painfully naïve when it came to actual relationships and found herself tripping over her own tongue and hiding behind bright pink cheeks when she tried to act on her own feelings.

John
Friday 2/7/70 14:09:20

Quickly he had outlined the current state of afairs and his proposed M.O. including his intention to offer to Damian Knight -through a meeting with Karen King- to help ward some Ares holdings with a high ecological impact from Vogels predations. At the same time they would serve as precedents for their own operations. That way, they would get an edge against Sierra, by forcing Vogel into a conflict of interests and at the same time earn Ares support in the Corporate Court.
The elf had been proceding fast, skiping points that Samantha Villiers signaled to be old news, but still had taken the time, to elaborate on any questions she had asked. He dosn´t want to her to be retired through strike out in this matter.
His mouth feels dry, but the sole imagination of a glass of water standing in grasping reach almost compleatly aleviates the discomfort so he can go on without disturbance.

John: "... Of course for this plan to succeed, we need to get Gavilan Ventures´ votes on our side. This is where you come into play and can hit another homerun for NeoNET." The baseball-terms sneak into his vocabulary again from the still activated know-soft. "It has come to my ear, that you have formed a good conection to Ms. Daviar. Maybe you can present our cause to her in a favorable light. I am very aware, that the Big D probably left instructions for Gavilan Ventures exceding the seven-year-plan but if we can get this across the right way... Ares in general is quiet image concious as well and so we need to paint our agenda as patriotic and american-canadian - which ties in very well with Dunkelzahn´s voting platformein 57. I think this is quiet managable for the relatively smale-scale precedents we need to set up. So, what do you think?"

Etain
Monday 6/23/70 08:09:00

Etain
Monday 6/23/70 08:09:41

She knew her mouth was open in an almost perfect “O” of surprise. It had to be. It wasn’t every day that you got a invitation to jet across the world with someone. When Patrick[b] mentions bringing [b]Keelin, Fiona and her brother her shock and surprise wears off a little and she recomposes herself. She sat there watching Patrick’s retreating form as he disappeared downstairs to “play host” as he put it with a stupid smile on her face. Once he was completely out of sight she closed her eyes and fell back against the couch she was sitting on and let out some soft squeal of happiness.

The next thing she heard was Fiona’s voice.

“Oh no he didn’t just invite you to Tokyo!”

Etain’s eyes snapped open expecting to see her best girlfriends standing before her giddy with excitement, instead she was face to face with that little pink bug again.

“Damnit Fiona! I thought we were alone up here! Should have known you couldn’t let me have my moment alone.” She scowled, sure to show the little pin camera her displeasure.

“Oh please, like we couldn’t put your first kiss with Patrick on tape!” Etain could hear the girls conspiratorial laughter in the background while the little pink bug flew around in front of her in loopy circles as it if too was laughing at her. Cursing in Sprethiel Etain fought the urge to pluck the little flying pain in her ass out of the air and crush it beneath her sandal.

“Knock it off Fiona, you know I like my privacy.”

Down below in the main passenger part of the bus Conall could feel the sudden mood swing of his sister above. From ecstatic elation to moody anger and violation in a heartbeat. If they hadn’t been so close, and if they hadn’t shared this link for so many years the changes would have had his head spinning, instead it was just “routine” and since he could see Patrick had returned to the lower level and was entertaining his guests, he figured that it wasn’t caused by him.

The rest of the trip to Larne went off without a hitch. A fantastic picnic lunch on the bankheads provided the entire group of people a chance to get to know one another and make new friends. Impromptu games of football were organized by a few of the more athletic men, but made enjoyable enough that the women were willing to give it a go and much laughter ensued. A private side-trip near sunset to the waterfall at Gleno gave way to Etain’s first kiss from Patrick. The entire day was capped off by a large bonfire on the bankheads as the night turned cooler that lasted well into the night before the ride back on the bus home.

Thursday 6/26/70 16:05:00

The past three days had been a blur of activity and now Etain found herself strapped into the seat of a sub-orbital, waiting for it to whisk her and her friends off to Tokyo. She could hear her girlfriends chattering away behind her, a glance across the aisle gave her a flash of a reassuring smile from her brother while his friend Declan was dialed into his headset and the in-flight entertainment. Just as her nerves started to get the better of her, she felt her hand encased in a comforting grip of Patrick’s hand. Her smile widened.

It was real, all of this was really happening and she was blessed and thankful for everything she had.

The flight was uneventful even at sub-orbital speeds the flight felt long, a side effect of all the excitement building inside her. She had never set foot in Japan, but heard stories of her fathers travels. The descent into Neo Tokyo was breathtaking. The lights and the landscape were beautifully combined, even when others might find it garish, Etain found it beautiful. She couldn’t wait to hit the ground running with Patrick as her guide.

“I can’t believe I’m here…”

Angus
Saturday 8/2/70 12:45:03

Angus enters the stuffer shack keeping the hood up even though hes inside, still being a bit paranoid about being reconized. Just inside the door he stops and picks up a small basket to carry stuff in while hes in the store. The dwarf behind the counter looks up for half a sec as the entry bell rings and then goes back to his comm, looking up occasionally to see where Angus is.

First Angus checks out the options the stuffer shack has for comm links. His is gane with everything else and he couldn't take the chance of keeping the limo driver's comm and have someone track it. Just need something basic for now, to keep up with whats going on in the world, and be able to communicate. Not that I have anyone to call right now. Looking at the display he opts to pick up a Meta Link comm with the base OS, only adding some basic map softs to it so he can get around with out getting lost and a pair of ear buds. Slotting his cred stick the system auto deducts the cost of the equipment and dumps out the box. Picking it up Angus puts it in his duffel so he can move on, not wanting to stay here any longer than needed.

Next he moves over to the home care rack and grabs a small flashlight and multi-purpose tool, dropping them in the basket he keeps moving. Finding the personal care displays, Angus grabs a couple different colors of hair dye to help him disappear for a while. Once he has the random things he had come up with that he wanted as he walked to the store, he heads for the food and drinks. He picks up six days worth of bottled water as well as selection of soy based food products that will not need to be heated to keep his energy up as he figures out his next step. Taking the full basket up front he stops at the ATM next to the door and sets down the basket and duffel between him and the machine. He pulls his credstick from his pocket and inserts in to the machine. Using the display he removes 4000 nuyen from his credstick and transfers it to three new credsticks. Angus opts to put 1000 nuyen on two of the sticks and 2000 nuyen on the third one, leaving him with just under 21000 on his original credstick. After reviewing the transactions he agrees and completes the request. The ATM moves his funds around and deducts the cost of the credsticks from the original stick. Then releases his original credstick along with dispensing the three new sticks.

Angus slips his original stick to the bottom of his pocket and then adds the two with a 1000 each to his other pocket. Keeping the stick with the 2000 on it he picks up the basket and his duffel bag and moves over to the front counter to pay for his items. Before he can even set the basket down the dwarf informs him, "That'll be 163 nuyen Chummer." Angus is caught a bit off guard at first, but then remembers that thanks to the RFID tags the store can track exactly what he has and provide the total to the cashier.

Angus double check the math real quick in his head then, slots the credstick making sure the system removes the correct amount. Angus then unloads the smaller items into the side pocket of the duffel bag and puts the food and water into the bags available at the counter. He loads the bags up and heads outside.

Conall
Tuesday 6/24/70 14:11:55

Conall threw forth the same sequence of jabs, ducking low to avoid Declan’s sweeping motion. They repeated the movement over and over again, picking up in pace after every completed sequence.

“So” said Declan, speaking between the sound of Conall’s gloves hitting the forearm mats “as I was saying, I think that Keelin girl has the hots for you.”

He threw a wide swing, which Conall avoided without a hitch. He knew very well his mate’s tactics. Declan would talk, none stop, during every training session, simply to overload him with sensory inputs. In battle, you had to deal with noise, sights, smells, and feelings. You had to hear, see and comprehend your surroundings in order to react properly and accordingly. Analyze the situation. Stay on the edge. Make the best call with the information you had. Declan would make a good officer. No. Not good. Great.

“Alright” said Declan as he dropped his guard down, Conall’s left fist stopping a mere inch from his face “how about we take a break… I’m sweating like a bloody pig here.”

Giving him a slight smirk, Conall brought his gloved hands down, but kept jogging on the spot. For the past week, all he had done was train. Left inactive, all he could do was think… which was something he was neither liked doing, or was good at. The young shaman wasn’t a man of philosophy, and even less of words. He was a man of action. As Declan laid down on the matted floor, his chest rapidly rising up and down, Conall went to work on a nearby bag. Each hit, he gave it his all. Each hit carried all the built up anger he had stored down. The recent trip to Larne had only made it worse. When they had finally gotten back home, both his hands were hurting from the clenched fist he had kept them in all day. Patrick hadn’t slipped yet. His behavior had been, at least according to etiquette, flawless. But that didn’t change a thing, at least in Conall’s eyes. The guy was a effete wimp; a trog lover and an insult to his lineage. What sort of pure blood goes off to Japan… Are his own people not good enough for him.

Conall’s muscles were starting to burn from the abuse. Hit after hit, the young wolf shaman felt his arms and back tearing themselves apart, but he ignored it. All he wanted was to pound Patrick’s face in… but not yet. If he acted too soon, he’d simply make a martyr out of him. Soon enough, Etain would see her mistake. She crumble like a card castle, and he’d have to pick up the pieces and make everything right. She’d realize that she could count of him… She’d realize he was there to protect her.

Soon. He would pay for hurting her. He would pay.

Declan poked his head in from the door leading to the locker room.

“Hoi mate, I just heard the guys from the 5-0-4 are going to have a match in the yard… they’re looking for players.”

Massing his burning arms with a gloves hand, Conall simply nodded. Some rugby would take his minds off of things. At least… for a few minutes…

John
Friday 2/7/70 14:25:41

"Of course anything I can do to help. I do get along well with Nadja, and we keep the lines of communication open for networking purposes if nothing else. But I will tell you now - she's still the wyrm's mouthpiece. Once she indicates how she'll vote on something, she never changes it - almost like she's following some sort of unalterable script. Very unlike how she handles her other prominent policy roles in government and for the Institute. But this thing may not fall under the purview of her instructions, so there may be some wiggle room especially if it looks good for Ares - it's no secret Knight and Dunk were close, if not always friendly. But you have to understand that personally, she is a lot more likely to sympathize with Vogel - in fact, I shudder to think of what would have happened to Ares had she NOT been under orders from the dragon - she's as limp-wristedly liberal as that cranky old toxic any day of the week.
"She told me a story from a board meeting a few months ago - myself, I thought it was delicious, but to her mind she was painting a portrait of the devil. Oh, I'm glad I thought of it - it's a perfect example of why men like Damien Knight really should be running this country.
"Vogel was trying to block redevelopment of some resource exploitation up in Maine. He had all these pictures of formerly green mountains stripped bare, rivers with their surfaces all clogged with belly-up fish, that sort of thing. And then he was going on about how even though these projects might make a quick buck, the cost in American livelihood when these rural areas were stripped dry was incalculable. He was playing the patriot card, you know, which often works on Damien. But then he overplayed his hand -
"In a typical leftie play on emotions, he added that virtually all of the people projected to be left homeless or destitute by these projects were SINless - I forget the numbers, something like 30,000 people pretty much guaranteed to go from reasonable levels of livelihood to squalor - and being SINless, having no social safety net.
"Well, Damien just looked at him and said, 'The SINless aren't Americans.' And then he rammed the project through. It was all I could do to keep from bursting into applause right there in the Georgian Room of the Four Seasons, but of course I made all the right noises about being appalled for Nadja. Couldn't say whether she bought it, of course. Unlike most liberals, she's not a moron.
"Anyway, from what I've seen of the project you're working on, you've got a similar situation on your hands - the admirably massive social disaster you're engineering will fall almost entirely on the heads of the SINless, so Knight's backing will be a given. But you knew that. My job will be to turn Daviar - she has to vote with Knight or Vogel can often get his way, and these things are where he digs in his heels. I know a few things I can do to get her ear, but what I need from you is a reason to take to her that would get her to go along in opposing Vogel on something she may well agree with him on."

John
Friday 2/7/70 14:27:00

Samantha: " ... 'The SINless aren't Americans.' ..."

John chuckles inside, but to the Villiers, he gives an expression of compassion for the poor, but dos so just not good enough, for her, not to notice the fake. It´s their own fault. When her eyes show him, that she sees through the bluff, he turns his gaze from her to the puget sound and lets a quickly repressed grin flicker over his lips - half showing his genuin amusement about the storry, half feigning to be ashamed for being caught in hypocracy.

'To the first one thousend SINless metahumans to show up at the Seattle offices of the Draco Faundation at 10:00 a.m. on the 12th of October, 2058, I bequeath one valid SIN apiece.'

For a second -before he locks with her eyes again- the elf watches the rain running down the windows. Gladly the spectacular viewe was most certainly one-way, to keep curious eyes and drone-optics out. Manolo DelGato had coached his boss in a multitude of mental personal protection techniques in the last days and the lawyer had practiced them to the hilt. Still John feels paranoid -more paranoid then usual- about magicians with his personal spellslinger on the other side of the continent, even with RFS security mages in place when ever aplicable.
With his staff´s and intelligence sorces´ help, the elf had tailored some concepts to Daviar´s and Gavilan Ventures´ profiles. In a Second, his mementos flash past his foveae and John turns his gaze back to Samantha. Left compleatly cold by her remark about the suffering HE will cause, he is contemplating to incorporate her priceless anecdote into his answer to her anticipated request, while it is still leaving her lips.

WyrmTalk, March 15th, 2057: '... Therefore, if I am elected, I will make System Identification Numbers available for all SINless in the UCAS. National registration, with compleat one-time amnesty for all who may be here illegally or who cannot obtain a SIN under normal circumstances because of some petty offense. All who wish to become full-fledged citizens of their own country may do so, with no questions asked.'

Putting up a confident face, he breaths in slowly and checks the references and quotes he needs in his head. Then he begins to speak in a bit of a casual tone, simultaniously lining up the requests for his staff, to find all the quotes, references and statistics to back his point.

John: "Knight is dead right on this one! We probably shouldn´t rub this under Ms. Daviar´s" cute "nose, but she will most likely bring up the parallels between this issue and that. When she dos so, you might want to tell her the following." The elf´s almond eyes narrow a bit more.
"Ms. Daviar has to keep in mind the good of the people of THIS land. Those SINless are no UCAS citizens and most of them are not, because they chose not to! The late Presidents Dunkelzahn and Haeffner extended a hand to all metahumans living on UCAS soil, to join this nation, but many chose otherwise."
Of cause Haeffner and Daviar had not compleatly gone through with what the dragon had promissed in his champaign, but they had made great strides towards it in the 7 years in power.
"Dunkelzahn saw tremendous potential in this nation and it´s people. They can not hope though, to fulfill this great destiny if their economical health is sacrificed for the previleges of those that chose deliberately to stand outside this society. Our late president also expressed his belive in the importance of technology." As he speaks, his eyes open up wide again, taking on the glow of conviction.
"Vogel allways criticizes the corps for shortsightedly aiming only for instant profits and ignoring long-term effects. He´d play the hypocrit, too, arguing that we must not accept a small evil to acheive a greater good -or he might mean it, thinking that blowing up 'ignorants' isn´t a bad thing at all- but you said that Ms. Daviar is no moron. Dunkelzahn placed Nadia Daviar and every one of us as his hairs, to strive for a better world. I am convinced, Ms. Daviar would be ill-advised, to trade the social and ecological short-term gain of a very few places and people -people that CHOSE to live beside us instead of with us- and thereby weakening her powerbase - the UCAS, as well as Ares Macrotechnology - in this struggle for the longterm goal, the betterment of all."

Conall & Etain
Neo-Tokyo, Thursday morning

The one hour sub-orbital journey had them touching down in Neo-Tokyo fairly early in the morning. Patrick was eager to get to a place called Meiji Jingu, so to avoid rush our traffic they piled into a waiting limo and took the newly completed underground expressway. It followed the curve of Tokyo Bay, and with the ocean-side wall made of transparent concrete, affording a magificent view of the marine life. "Of course Tokyo Bay is actually dark and horribly polluted," Patrick explained, "but they cleaned up this area close to the expressway, seeded it with phosporescent algea so there'd be some light, and laced the water with pheremones preferred by the most beautiful fish."

Emerging near Harajuku Station, the group approached the main entrance of the Meiji Shrine - the resting place of the Meiji Emperor, Japan's first monarch to be restored to power following almost three centuries of shogunal rule. The wide gravel path took them through a gigantic torii Shinto arch hewed from what must have been unbelievably large trees. It was raining - a light, misty drizzle which Patrick seemed to relish. "Now is the hot summer rainy season, which is essentially a drag, but for places like this, it accentuates the wabi aesthetic." Walking shoulder to shoulder with Etain, who did her best to ignore the brooding watchfulness emanating from Conall, Patrick explained to her the Japanese appreciation for the beauty to be found in loneliness, ephemerality, desolation, and artful imperfection as they crunched along the gravel between two towering walls of greenery in the center of Tpkyo.
Arriving at a group of low, simple buildings, a pavilion in a great central court hosted a pairing of koto and shakuhachi - the haunting sounds of the Japanese flute punctuated by the measured twang of the koto. Etain found herself transported to her exact image of old Japan - a culture she had assumed must by now be dead.

Next Patrick announced they would go to Ginza - which made all the girls think of shopping. But once they arrived Patrick herded them into the Kabuki-za - where they enjoyed a couple of acts of Japan's garish traditional theater. A full program would take four hours, and time was short, but it was nonetheless fascinating - not only the costumes, music, make-up, and poses, but equally so the old men in the pit shouting things at the actors - which Patrick explained was perfectly acceptable.

As if he sensed Etain's disappointment as they left Ginza, Patrick intimated to her that only old housewives shopped there, and the next thing they knew they were in Shibuya. Even in London and Paris, Etain had never experienced such a barrage of AR - nor seen such sophisticated AROs. But the moment she took her comm offline, she was equally assailed by the physical advertising - standing Hachiko Square, they were surrounded by skyscrapers coated from ground to clouds in the latest ruthenium weaves - all screaming for her to drink Pocari Sweat or subscribe to the latest Korean soap opera. "This is the shopping mecca of Japan - every young girl dreams of making a pilgrimage here," said Patrick, to Etain's dismay - she found the scantily-clad, orange-tanned teeny-boppers here hopelessly gaudy. But then Patrick pointed out the sleeves of her blouse, and said that they were from a Shibuya fad of two years ago, and made similar comments about some of Keelin and Fiona's garb. "Still, you wouldn't want to buy any of this stuff in its pre-West-filtered state. I just wanted you to see this place." And from there it was a short hop to Omote Sando - a street of boutiques and designer salons that put the Champs d'Elysses to shame. The girls went wild, and by the time they were all shopped out it was already dark and they'd gone the whole day without even thinking to eat.

Almost as if to rub salt in his wounds, Declan commented to Conall that "This fellow certainly seems to know a lot about shopping."

So for dinner, probably everyone expected some super-extravagant sushi bar, but Patrick was having none of it. "I can show you four perfectly good suchi places in Dublin. Don't even talk about London. You can get very good sushi anywhere," he said, as their car took them to Shinjuku. There, they left the car and walked through the crowdes - neither Conall nor Etain thought of themselves as particularly tall, but here they towered over the locals, and at big intersections felt as if they were looking out over a veritable ocean of black-haired heads. The crowding in this supposedly rich country was unbelievable, even in the wealthy sections. They were at least relieved to see that, despite the recent 'reforms,' orks and trolls were few and far between.

But soon they left the main streets, picking their way along the sidewalks over the sprawled bodies of salarymen in 10,000 nuyen suits lying in pools of their own sick. Patrick led them unerringly down a back alley cluttered with boxes to a small, dirty collection of stools surrounding an open bar out of which gushed pork-scented steam. Men with loosened neckties stood and slurped noodles, while Patrick ordered for everyone in what sounded like fluent - and definitely not chipped - Japanese. The broth was unbelievable - he explained it was made of boiled down pork bones, and as they ate regaled them with stories of shopkeepers trying to steal one another's recipes that sounded like tales of corporate espionage.

Bellies full, they returned to the car and headed for the airport. They had all be disappointed - and Patrick's own friends apparently surprised - to hear it would be only a day trip, but their host would not think of staying the night, and wouldn't discuss the matter at all.

It was the only part of the trip that pleased Conall.

John
Friday 2/7/70 16:00:00

John felt good sitting in the back his limo on the way back to the hotel to get some more work done before changing for his night out with Ian. His pitch had gone perfectly, and Villiers had assured him she'd meet with Daviar before Monday.
She was an interesting woman - surprisingly callous about the sometimes regrettable short-term fallout of corporate activities, and surprisingly at peace with herself about that.

As he reflected on their meeting, he was interrupted by Alice's voice as she answered her comm. She looked up at him and mouthed, "Lanier." He nodded, and she said, "Of course, Mr. Lanier, I have him right here."

She made the connection on the limo's terminal, so that her boss and Miles Lanier could see one another. "John, how'd it go?"
They exchanged pleasantries, John gave a brief report, not mentioning the 'untrustworthy' part, and then Lanier got down to business.

"Scudder's been stealing from the shell company. Couple mill, near as we can tell right now. We have him, of course, and of course he's talking. Money's not a huge issue - not a small one either, but that's our end. Problem for you is some of his associates had dead-man drops, and now this thing is gonna hit the media in minutes - Horizon's already agreed to minimize, but they can't go dark if other nets pick it up, and MCT and the Azzies have their media subsidiaries all over the damned thing. Again, we will handle the PR thing, but John, this is going to be a due dilligence nightmare - one of the bitches about being public. We are going to have investor consortiums coming out of the woodwork with litigation that will kill this whole thing. We need you on it now. Head off or settle quietly, and get us a new figurehead - one that's not suicidal." And he hung up.

John
Friday 2/7/70 16:01:07

He had guessed from the beginning that Scudder would make problems, but he had hoped they´d come at a less inconveniant moment. On the other hand, it was probably best to have this happen early on. Damn 'Blob', couldn´t have waited for me to get some rest! The fact that Manolo would be unavailable from monday on, to brace his mind against overwork, bothers him most.

The elf only nods and opens his mouth to say 'I´m on it', but Lanier kills the line befoee a word comes out. Not lingering on it for a splitsecond, John turns to Alice, while his mind is allready racing with new candidates to replace Scudder.

John: "Please cancel my dinner with Karen. I´ll handle Ian myself."

He trusts his assistent to handle his contacts as smoth as he could, but he´d find it unpolite,not to call his friend personally, to cancel an appointment.

Angus
Saturday 8/2/70 12:58:19

Standing in front of the stuffer shack Angus looks down the block toward the coffin motel he had spent his first night on the run at. Better no go back there, just in case someone saw my drugged up hoop falling into that closet last night. Looking the other way Angus scans the street and starts walking again.

With in a few blocks Angus comes across another coffin motel that looks promising. Finding a troll sized closet near the communal rest rooms Angus pulls the cred stick he used to pay for the supplies and stands aside as the door opens. Looking both ways and seeing no one in sight he steps in side and waits for the door to close. Setting the bags down on the floor he climbs into the sleeping area, lying on his stomach so he can reach everything. He spends the next hour sorting through his stuff and trying to get it where he can get in and out. Once things are where he wants them he opens up the comm and starts setting it up, immediately setting it to passive mode and making that its default status when on. Once its set he links his comm with one of the 1000 nuyen credsticks to make auto payments when needed and links it to his room so he can come and go as needed.


The next six days were very odd for Angus, in some aspects time flew and by the end he wasn't sure where they had gone, while at times it seemed like it would never end. Angus found he had a lot of free time, the first day or so were the worst, he spent most of the time laying around feeling sorry for himself and watching the trid. The worst was he would have to go out to use the rest room, between the pain of the stiffness and the stress of being seen, made him wait till his bladder was ready to explode.

Finally on the third day he awoke to one of his promo pic's on the trid as the top story of the hour. Apparently he was now wanted for murder and something about fleeing a crime scene. From what the trids were saying they really had no idea where he was currently. Which was the one upside out of it all, and at least now the waiting was over. The word was out; it was time for him to move on.

Some how or another the news breaking was what Angus needed to get him focused and moving forward. He realized with out any doubt that his old life was over and it was time to move on. He had learned a lot about himself over the last year, and espically in the last few days. So he started reflecting on the things he learned and experienced, using those to focus himself. Going back in time he started doing the drills he had learned as a teenager to focus his magical abilities.

As the next few days went by Angus found a good rhythm. He would start his day with stretching exercises to keep his strength from completely leaving him and help work the last of the soreness from the fight out of his muscles. Once he had stretched out good he would eat a little something and then slip out to the bathroom to shower and clean up. It was amazing what a few extra days of growth on his hair and having it all dyed an off white would do to change what he looked like. Only once was someone else in the rest rooms while he was and they never seemed to take a good look at him. One of the benefits of being a troll he guessed.

Once Angus was cleaned up he would return to his room, laying out flat on the bed and focusing inward. As the days he noticed two benefits for returning to his old training, the first and most important was it seemed to help him deal with the withdrawal from not having taken his pills. The other was significant as it gave him a direction to focus in; he was able to fine-tune his focus further than he had in the past opening up access to more of his natural magical talents. This brought him to his next choice, how to focus those powers, which lead him back to the biggest question of all, What was he going to do with his life now?

This question had been floating around in the back of his head for the last few days, but the time had come to make a choice. He had ruined his life as a pro-boxer, as well as possibility of just retiring and enjoying the fruits of his success. He was not ready to live on the streets hiding all the time wondering if someone would recognize him, and even though he was set for now he would need money eventually, so he had to find a way to earn money. So, like so many before him Angus came to the only conclusion that would allow him some kind of life, to join the shadows and become a runner, working for the highest bidder. Once he had finally made the choice everything else started to fall in to place. It became very apparent where he needed to focus some of his new magical talents, he had to be able to hurt things with his hands not just bruise them. After spending most of the day going through his focusing exercises he would finish the day with more stretching and then do what he could to keep up with the local news on the trid, focusing on stories about runners, trying to learn what he could.

As the end of the week rolled around Angus was feeling much better and secure with his choices he had made over the last few days. After finishing his daily routine Friday afternoon he started getting ready to go see if he could find Ezekiel Smithers the guy that Bruno had mentioned as a good person to talk to. He hoped that Smithers would be able to help him get the supplies he needed to start his new life, as well as make sure he is erased from the Matrix and assume a new identity. Using his comm he did a few quick searches to find exactly where he was going and find out what the place was like. Once he had finished his afternoon stretching he went out to the bathroom area to clean up, make sure his hair was still properly dyed and wash his one real set of clothes. Once he was as cleaned up as he was going to get he went back to the coffin one last time. He opted to use his leather jacket tonight putting the rest of his worldly possessions in the pockets of it and the duffel bag.

Friday 8/8/70 18:56:49

As Angus walks outside he makes a quick call to Crusher 495, to make sure Smithers is working as to not waste the trip into town to find out the guy was not working tonight. Once he’s confirmed Smithers is working Angus makes a call to get a cab for the ride into town.

John
Saturday 2/8/70 00:00:03

The Boston offices are bussy like a bee hive under attack, but the chaos of people pacing through the hallways is nothing compared to the on-line traffic. Security protocols make physical filetransfer via e-paper and similar means necessary for the sensitive data and keep the high clearance conferences off-line if possible, but less touchy issues are still enough to make the company´s private AR a vast sea of information. The huge, smoked quarz conferenche-table is cluttered with piles of e-paper, actual printouts, commlinks and holoprojectors. In between all the office-tools are a variety of tea and coffee mugs, paper-cups and fast-food cartons and packages of different size and origen - some half-filled or empty, some unopened, from steaming hot to long gone cold.
John lets the the flow of information wash around him, sunken in his own thoughts. Idly slurping the spicy soba noodles out of a small wax-paper box, he is taking his first brake since he arrived in boston less then two hours after Lanier´s call, the first oportunity to get some nutrition other than a sip of amazonian coffee between two sentences.
On his way to Sea-Tac International, he had called Ian and postponed their night out. It wasn´t too unusual to cancel a meeting with MacCaskill last minute, on behalf of both of them. They knew what it meant when 'the company' calls and it had never been a problem for their friendship. John had invited Ian to come along to the east coast. Alice had organized a pair of opera tickets for him to spend friday night. He could go and see some family the next day and then go out with John saturday night, even if it meant that the lawyer wasn´t sleeping another night.

With the first stones rolling, John starts to think about vald candidates for the AH top spot again. He´d like to put someone with some political sway in the CAS in place, to help with some points on his to-do list, so he loads some CAS-plitics and -economy softs and mentally scrolls down a list of names. With his data-miners all at work, the elf uses his premium access to log into the Argus and Aegis databases himself and sets up the agent-programs, to collect intel on the heads, that his specialists can screen later on, to compile dossiers on them.

Angus
Friday 8/8/70 19:00:22

Angus was feeling real good about himself. As shitty a turn as his life had taken, after a rough start he had now gone five days without the meds. It had been pretty tough, but he was feeling good about himself for doing it. Unfortunately, that was the only way he was feeling good. He was sweating bad for no reason, and he had cramps in his shoulders and legs. But when the going gets tough, the tough get going, he thought as he waited for his commcall to Crusher 495 to connect.
A gruff voice, obviously ork or troll, answered, and Angus asked about Ezekiel Smithers.
"Ezekia-whut? Never heard of him. Who's askin'?"

John
Saturday 2/8/70 17:55:53

The Al Coda is situated in a historical building in a nice part of town. According to the Indie Spotlight, which had rated it on place 6 of the continent´s top 10 scenes in 2062, it was the most european one could get in the new world. Since it´s celebrity has droped a bit, but it still has it´s share of bostonian regulars and outside patrons. The ground-level´s main room is full of quiet alcoves for private conversation.
A plainclothes RFS security team is strategically cluttered around the bar, but John pretends, not to recognize them, when he scans the interior. Ever since he had worked for Dankwalther, he had started to set up safe houses, fake IDs and stashes of money, clothes and utilities around the globe. After his employer had marked him for death, the lawyer had surrounded himself with the best unobstrusive security he could effort.
He only gives the crowd a casual glance, as he purposefully crosses the floor to the one of the 6 private rooms, that he had rented for Ian and himself. They´d be abled to talk business there, but more importantly, they would be allowed to smoke in the private area. Afterwards they go up-stairs to the much more modern dancefloor and live music arena - or maybe they´d change the locaton, some latin hip-hop trogs cum famoust lately where performing tonight and John wasn´t really into that kind of music.
Even before he enters the the room, he checks the bars node, to see if his guest has allready arrived, despite him being a few minutes early. Then he opens the AR menue, to order drinks. The Al Coda has a set of resonably priced drinks, but also had an expansive assortment of imported beverage for the more refined taste. In absence of a single malt of acceptable age -the taste wasn´t the same since the black flood- he sattled for a bottle of Midleton Very Rare from 2003. He also selects two cups of real amazonian coffee and two Cohiba Exquisitos, that would take less then an hour to smoke.
Then he opens the door and braces himself for a cascade of alcohol, nicotin and 'sine metu' trashing his brain. 'sine metu' -without fear- being the family motto of the John Jameson´s Dublin Destillery founder and Ian´s & John´s drinking motto and 'war cry'.

Etain
Sunday 06/29/70 10:25:07

It was a lazy Sunday morning in the O’Neill household. Dad was off on a business trip and Mother was off at a salon for one of her twice-weekly appointments to “look her best” for the public. Etain had gotten up early, even after coming home late the night before from yet another “date” with Patrick. It was a beautiful late evening dinner that turned into a walk around the more scenic parts of Ulster and into a conversation that ended with a single, polite kiss at the door.

She had been wandering the house all morning still dressed in the peach silk pants and camisole top she had slept in the night before. After a brief stop in the kitchen for a handful of fresh berries, she padded her way quietly back up to the twin’s wing of the house and paused to lean in the dark oak doorframe of her brother’s room. He was awake and already stretching, running through his morning exercise routine. She stayed there quietly watching him from the doorway. He was dressed in his usual green silk pants and bare-chested as he moved, Etain wondered for the love of the Bard why some lovely little lass hadn’t snatched up her brother already, Goddess knew there were enough stunning looking young women in Ulster to turn his head.

“You know, I think Keelin fancies you.”

She broke her silence and while her presence didn’t seem to startle her brother like she hoped, her words had the desired effect as she could see the muscles across his shoulders tense up ever so slightly before he turned to look, or was that glare, at her. Her smile just grew wider as she munched on her last berry. She was flying on cloud nine, she felt like her feet had barely touched the ground over the last week. It was only fair that her brother should experience this feeling at least once in his life, on his own of course, it didn’t count if she opened herself up to share her emotions with him directly.

“Seriously though, did you not see her practically throwing herself at you at Larne the other day, or the way she tried to always engage you in conversation in Neo Tokyo? Or are you just blind?”

John
Saturday 2/8/70 18:00:00

Ian entered the room in a slick Vashon Island leisure suit, boldly unarmored, and took John's proferred hand in both his own. "Johnny! Real glad we could meet. You'll be glad to know that I dug up some stuff on Hiroshige and UCAS Steel that'll curl your toes - you'll really have 'em by the short hairs. The problem is that I am not sure I can share the info with you because you're so untrustworthy. But it's some really good stuff - you'll have 'em right where you want 'em. How long have we got till the curtain goes up? Can't remember the last time I had a chance to go to the opera. Really appreciate your bringing me out here, old friend."

John
Saturday 2/8/70 18:02:24

When they both have taken their seats after a warm handshake and John has informed Ian of the nights schadull, an elven waiter enters the private room. His tray holding two steaming cups, the lovely aroma of real coffee fills the air. He places the cups on the table, along with a heavy chrystal ashtray, a wooden box and a package of large matches and leaves the other two elves to their privacy. John had offered a generous tip in advance, along with his order.
While Ian picks one of the short cigars from the wooden box and cuts the tip, John picks up the matches and offers to light his friends smoke. With his paranoia put at ease a bit due to the private back-rooms extra security features to prevent evese-dropping, the lawyer goes right to business, to finish that part before they started indulging in alcohol too much.

John: "Don´t bother to tell me more then would be appropriate!" The lawyer knew that he was not a family-member, though he had been close to become one back then. He would never ask his friend to break the oath of omerta by revealing family-secrets to an outsider, but sharing information on a mutual rival was another thing. "I think though, that our agendas with UCAS Steel will complement each other. If you can´t tell me anything, that´s fine. If you don´t want me to do specific things with what you give me, just say so. If you want me to do something specifc in exchange, just ask. You know I can handle delicate information - that´s my job!"

He snuffs the matches flame and cautiously places it in the ashtray, without making it brake apart. Then he takes a sip of coffee, before he goes on, while picking up a cigar himself.

John: "I am currently working on a case where I´d like to shift some of the negative attention on UCAS Steel. Given the finger-cutter´s involvement, I thought this would suite the family as well and I could use any dirt on them I can get. If my intelis dated and you´d rather prefer UCAS Steel unharmed, keep your info to yourself and I´ll see what I can do, to find another corp to blame."

He fixes his friends eyes, while he takes another sip of coffee and then lights his own Cohiba.

Angus
Friday 8/8/70 19:00:30

"Sorry wrong number." Getting the information he wanted Angus ends the call and keeps walking down the street to the corner where he had set the meet with the cab. Well the guy tried to be cool, but I'm betting he's there.

The cab was right on time and Angus only had to wait on the corner for a couple minutes. As he climbs in the cabbie looks over at him,"Where to chummer?"

"Crusher 495, just outside Touristville. Know it?"

John
Saturday 2/8/70 18:03:30

John and Ian puffed for a moment, and Ian opened his mouth to speak, but just at that moment the waiter reappeared carrying a tray of drinks.
"On the house, sir, just to let you know how much we appreciate your patronage. I am obliged to inform you, however, that we will not be able to accept your payment - you are just too unreliable." Turning to Ian, the waiter asks, "Will the gentleman be picking up the tab?"
"Sure," answered the mob lawyer, "Why not? John is taking me to the show later."
The waiter nodded and retired.

Angus
Friday 8/8/70 19:01:00

"Just-shmust, pal, the key word is outside Touristville. Cost ya two hundred, pay now, and I ain't comin' to a full-stop."

Angus agreed, paid, and leaned back. He was feeling worse by the minute, and looked forward to chilling in the back of the big cab - he'd requested an extra large model - until they arrived.

The ride was uneventful out of the seedy section of downtown he was staying in, over Lake Washington, through the upscale neighborhoods of Bellevue, and up into the Touristville section of Redmond - a virtual armed camp against the relentless encroachment of the gang-controlled Z-zones.

The cabbie put his foot on the gas and swerved around potholes and bonfires. It was only a few blocks past the last Lone Star checkpoint, but it was a different world. "Comin' up on it - the only place with real lights, on the left. Like I said, I ain't stoppin', and I sure as hell ain't waitin'." He slowed to a fairly gentle roll, and Angus stepped out and slammed the door, knowing that anyone but a professional athlete would have ended up rolling around on the asphalt - or at least they would if the street was still paved.

Goblin rock and other brands of electric cacophony blared from the window, all flung open in the summer evening heat. Angus barely dodged a skinny ork that came flying out the big - yeah, BIG - double doors. Taking a deep breath he stepped in.

The front of the place had some pool tables in the middle, with some comm terms against the walls. Farther back were booths on the right-hand wall, and a bar along the left. Still farther back it was too dark and the heat patterns too diffuse to make much out.

He stood there for a moment, to see what would happen, but no one seemed to recognize him, and he set out in search of Ezekiel Smithers.

John
Saturday 2/8/70 18:03:49

Not be able to accept your payment? John strains to hide his surprise. The paranoid businessman´s first impuls is to check his accounts, but then something else clicks in his mind. Untrustworthy? Unreliable?! Something is definitly out of tune. Is this a dream? Am I awake? The elf asks himself in silence, while the waiter removes himself from the room.

John: "Thanks, Ian! Must be some kind of computer glitch." He says just in case this is real and the paranoid voice in the back of his head adds. ... or a Hacker! Somebody trying to play 'The Game' on me?

John
Saturday 2/8/70 18:00:00

Ian walked into the room sporting the latest overcoat from the Mortimer line, perfect for the cold Boston winter. "Chummer, thanks for the opera tix last night," said Ian, moving to embrace John. As he took a seat, he continued, "You should have seen the hottie I gave the other ticket to. I hope we find some more of those tonight. What have you got planned?"

John
Saturday 2/8/70 18:01:03

John: "Bet on that. There are so many irish beauties in town, you´d think you´re in Kerry, and it´s Rose of Tralee all year. So, was she game?"

Ian just smiles. When they both have taken their seats, an elven waiter enters the private room and John gets the strangest sense of déjà vu. His tray holding two steaming cups, the lovely aroma of real coffee fills the air. He places the cups on the table, along with a heavy chrystal ashtray, a wooden box and a package of large matches and leaves the other two elves to their privacy. John had offered a generous tip in advance, along with his order.
While Ian picks one of the short cigars from the wooden box and cuts the tip, John picks up the matches and offers to light his friends smoke. With his paranoia on a peak, despite the private back-rooms´ extra security features to prevent evese-dropping, the lawyer avoides any business at first, despite wanting to finish that part before they started indulging in alcohol too much.

John: "I was so burried in work these days, dude, I´m glad to get some time off."

He snuffs the matches flame and cautiously places it in the ashtray, without making it brake apart. Then he takes a sip of coffee, before he goes on, while picking up a cigar himself.

John: "We didn´t have too much time to chat the other day. What have you done lately and how is the family, did you see your uncle today?"

He fixes his friends eyes, while he takes another sip of coffee, trying to shake off the sense of foreboding, and then lights his own Cohiba. Shaking the flame on the match to death, he puts it into the tray, forming a cross with the other one.
John and Ian puff for a moment, and Ian opens his mouth to speak, but just at that moment, the door opens and John´s heart almost stops for a beat. The waiter reappears carrying a tray with two glasses, a bowl of ice and a 450 bottle of whiskey.

John
Saturday 2/8/70 18:02:00

"Compliments of the manager, sir. In appreciation of your patronage." The waiter nodded and walked out.

Ian and John caught up on the basics, but before long the Mafia suit showed he could still read his old friend. "So let's talk a little biz before the evening starts to get too fun. Hiroshige - you are not going to believe this, but it seems he has had some sort of moral epiphany a few years back and started to actually live all that 'protect the downtrodden' crap. He'd spent a decade worming his way into a position of deep influence at UCAS Steel through sleeper agents, sokaiya tactics, and good old intimidation and extortion. And sometime around the point where he's poised to really start reaping the rewards - like maybe in the tens of millions in insider knowledge, salaries for non-existent jobs, and Y100,000 a year subscriptions to two-page newsletter - you know the stuff they pull - just as he's really got UCAS Steel by their cast-iron balls, instead of cashing in, he starts wielding all that influence to force improvements in worker conditions, pushing for sustainable resource management, and promoting R&D aimed at finding profitable ways to keep plants in economically disadvantaged areas open. Mind you, he's still skimming enough off the top to make a decent living for himself and his people, but it's not nearly what it could be. His rengo's kumicho wants his head, and the only reason he hasn't gotten it yet is because Hiroshige's games have made the ancient and supposedly retired oyabun rationalize their empty lives now that they've all got more money than Lofwyr. The word is that the genro has whispered a hands-off order in the right ears, but those old farts won't live forever. It's only a matter of time before Hiroshige's superiors that are still in the game make a move for all that money potential he's mismanaging. In fact, I hear Hiroshige himself knows it, and has made extensive preparations for his own passing - though mind you he keeps an army of protection around himself."
Ian paused and shook his head. "What a bleeding wanker. Risking his life to help a bunch of ungrateful halfers and tuskers that can't get their snouts out of the bottle or the beetles out of their brains. Fuck 'em, I'd say, and give me the cash." He chuckled and raised his glass to John - "To the economic disadvantage of thousands, because it's precisely what keeps us economically advantaged."

Conall
Sunday 06/29/70 10:28:11

She had been standing, not saying a word, for a few moments. Even if he hadn't seen her, at the corner of his eye, he had felt her presence since she had wondered in their wing of the house. Their bond was strong enough for both of them to know, instinctively, where the other was.

Nevertheless, Conall simply ignored her. His morning routine consisted in a ecclectic mixt of stretching exercises and Thai-Chi. When Etain finally broke the silence, it wasn't to say what he expected. Following in with the next movement, he turned his back to his sister, speaking witouth looking at her.

"Unlike others, I don't have the time or luxury to indulge myself in petty childish play."

He straightened up, arching his back forward and sighing out the breath he had been holding. He turned, still avoiding Etain's eyes, with a serious, almost annoyed expression on his face. He walked to the doorway, where Etain was still standing.

Conall stood in front of her, toe to toe, almost the same heigh.

"Would you mind?" he simply said, asking his sister to let him pass.

As Etain stood aside to let him out of his room, he simply stretched his arm, took a firm hold of the wooden door and slammed it shut, a few inches from her delicate nose. Turning back, Conall's shoulders slumped down as he leaned agaisnt the door. Who did she think she was, ignoring him like this for almost a full week... then strolling in like all was good in the world. His shaking hand went down to the handle, where he engaged the lock.

Go ahead and play whore with your dandy elf queen. See if I care.

Etain
Sunday 06/29/70 10:29:11

The sight and sound of Conall slamming his door on her hit her heart like a ton of bricks. The sheer surprise of it made her jump back a good foot from the door. She stood there in disbelief for a moment before her vision went cloudy with the sting of tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

Just as she could feel his anger, he could feel her sudden shock and sadness. Not even the heavy oak door could hold the feelings back. She shook her head before her own shoulders sagged as the happiness she had been floating on was ripped out from underneath her and she was sent crashing back down into real life.

As she heard the lock engage, Conall’s last thoughts struck her with as much force as if he had screamed the words into her face. The fact that her brother suddenly thought so little of her, even in anger, ripped at her heartstrings. Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks now, she wasn’t about to cast 21 years of friendship and the bond she and her brother had for a guy, but she wasn’t going to be a “lone wolf” like her bother for the rest of her life either.

She was struck with the reality that she now had two men in her life. Two men that fought for her attention, for her time, for her words and her mind. She wasn’t sure there was enough of her to share anymore.

She took a step forward, instinctively placing her hand against the door just about where Conall’s shoulder was on the other side. Her hand felt white hot against the cool, smooth wood.

“Conall, I’m…” Her voice broke, even in it’s softened tone that she knew he could hear. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut as her emotions got the better of her, she turned on her heel and walked away from his door, down the hall to her own room.

”I’m sorry.”

The door closed and with a soft click her own lock was engaged.

John
Saturday 2/8/70 18:33:18

Funny enough, Ian´s social darwinist views never even managed to get a raised eyebrow from the other elf. It was more like his best friends outlook allways put the doubts about John´s own moral failings at ease and confirmed him in his rationalizations. Ian could never give him the feeling of absolution he craved but a single word from his cousin could, but the made man´s demanor allways effortlessly brushed his objections aside for sometime. So he smiles and lifts his glass.

John: "To the survival and prosperity of the fittest!"

He takes a generous sip from his drink, but hestrains himself, while they are still talking business.

John: "MCT´s affiliates can´t be really happy with these evolvements, can they? I mean, their rival UCAS Steel gets weekened less then it could be, which goes to the expense of their ally´s proffits. Do you know any news on Keiji´s son Tadashi? I know that he was estranged from his father in 49 and disowned after refusing to follow in his father´s footsteps. Seems he was pissed about his dad holding more affection for his elven bodyguard Akihito 'Tuesday' Takemura. Tad worked as a freelance decker at least untill 55 and allegedly helped some other yakuza-fractions hurting old Hiroshige´s operations. It says Keiji has groomed 'Tuesday' as his successor since, though I wonder how the elders could ever swallow that. I guess Tad must really hate the elf, because he suspects him to have killed his sister Michiro - she was hit by a car way back, when she was 15. Maybe he things Akihito had something to do with his mother Sunito´s death in 54 as well."

Etain
Sunday 6/29/70 10:30:00

Etain was to dine with Patrick tonight, but it no longer seemed like such a delightful prospect.

Why couldn't Conall just be happy for her? And why couldn't he understand that the one had nothing to do with the other? It was just soooo apples and oranges. But she knew emotions and logic seldom mixed within the human heart.

In any case, she could hardly stand her boyfriend up. 'Boyfriend.' It was so childish and quaint, but on their last date he had made a boyish attempt at clarifying that - making offhanded comments about how other people were referring to her as his girlfriend. She made the right noises back, and before long they had been saying things that she'd replayed over and over lying in bed after he'd escorted her home.

Yes, once again escorted her home. Keelin and Fiona could not stop pestering her for details, and not believing her when she said there were none. But rich as they were, they weren't from noble families. She had clan standards to uphold - although saints knew most of the other young scions carried on like nobody's business behind closed doors.

But for Etain there had always been Conall - better than a cybernetic chastity belt, that.
And she'd never minded, nor been in any hurry - but all that was starting to change.

Angus
Friday 8/8/70 19:03:00

Angus felt like the human that walks unknowingly into a troll bar. Only this was a troll bar, and he was a troll. He wasn't sure he'd ever ventured into a place this tough, at least not without his staff. But he knew that the last thing to do was act nervous. And he also knew he could kick anyone's ass in this place - except that half of them were probably carrying guns - there was certainly no weapons check at the door. Plus, he felt like crap - everything was cramping up and he wanted a pill BAD.

He put himself in the arena, walking through the crowd toward the ring, arrogant and cocky as you please. Seemed to work, no one hassled him. He approached the bar - "What'll it be, brau?" asked the same voice that he'd heard on the phone.
"The closest thing to real beer you've got on tap, and point me to Smithers," Angus came back with more confidence than he felt. The troll bartender looked him over, then poured him his beer, laid it on the counter, and jerked a thumb toward deep in the back corner of the place.
Angus wasn't sure exactly what he'd done right, and wasn't sure he could repeat it next time, so he tried to make sure he wouldn't have to by tipping the troll a cool Y200. That got a sincere "Yes, sir, far right corner, you'll see the bodyguards."

Angus took his beer and headed for the back. Right where he'd been told, there was a configuration of booths in a corner - they were laid out so that there was just a narrow sort of entrance between them, forcing one person at a time to scooch into the available bench. Outside the booth-fort were two trolls, big guys with thick flak jackets and shotguns. And visible in the back was an ork - a little uglier than most, with what looked like a bad facial tick. He had a shot glass and a bottle in front of him, and he was wearing a suit the quality of which was likely lost on the denizens of this place, but the Angus knew probably cost him at least twenty-large.

John
Saturday 2/8/70 18:40:32

Simultaneously thundering a "Sine metu!", the two elfs kick back another drink and officially start the fun part of the evening. Puffing their cigars they make plans for the rest of the evening.

Saturday 2/8/70 19:29:57

Simultaneously: "SINE METU!!"

They kick back the last of the Midleton Very Rare. With the Cohibas in ashes and the wiskey bottle dry they rise to their feet - still stabel and clear, but much more relexed. For homo sapiens nobilis both of them can cope with a fairly large amount of alcohol.

Saturday 2/8/70 20:07:10

They had watched the tuskers and posers up-stairs for a while, but eventually the rhythems and rhymes had driven them back downstairs. Now they are ingesting a fine, imported red stout, before they leave for another night-spot.

Saturday 2/8/70 23:44:00

The nightlife has picked up pace and Ian and John are in the thick of it. On their way to the club, the made-man had shown the corper some twists and turns to get loose of a tail and they really had allmost lost the RFS security detail, even thought they knew where they where going. Flashing strobes and twitching bodies, they found the 'Hall under the Hill' just like the location-scout had promissed. Brimming with a mix of brit-pop, celtic-rock and folk-inspired electro-rhythems, it was favoured by elfs and university-people along with a fair amount of changelings.
The two lawyers are rubbing shoulders with the crowd on the dancefloor, carefull not to spill their beers, while John is avoiding any known faces from his lectures.

Sunday 2/9/70 00:36:50

The friends are sitting in the 'Underhill´s' lounge, talking to a pair of elven beauties from Harvard university. John is impressing them with his ability to read people, while in fact he is reading the dossiers his Hacker has shunted his way.
Bethany Falkirk is a blond, green-eyed, 24 year old medical student in her final year. Her parents kame here from the Eire after the anouncement of the Tir, but reconceiled with the Sidhe after they had an elven girl themselves. She has got breast implants and dietware -oviously due to her large quantity purchases of strawberry sloppies and chocolate muffins- as well as a piercing in her toungue and her navel and some butterflies tatooed in a very private place using a cheap fake-ID when she was 17 and obviously without her parent´s knowledge.
Shannon O´Dooley has bright blue eyes and her naturally red-brown hair is dyed fiery red. She´s 24 as well and just started work on her doctorate thesis in biology - On regenerative properties in Awakened Ivy. She has a datajack and imagelink and her ex-boyfriend had some verry private pics and flics on his com. Probably unknown to her, her 2nd grade removed uncle Oliver 'The Brick' O´Dooley is working as a Sottocapo for Connor O´Rilley.

Sunday 2/9/70 04:47:26

He is lieing in a comfortable bed in the master bedroom of Ian´s hotel suite, but he can´t sleep. Shannon´s head is resting on his chest, her glowing read hair sprawled over his torso -tickling with every breath he takes- and the weight is slowly becoming uncomfortable. He is counting the leaves in the ceilings floral decore, while he contemplates on the reason for his insomnia. Is the regulator really damaged or am I just too stressed out? Am I too paranoid to fall asleep beside a person I only 22 pages of intelligence, marely mediocre blackmail and no knowsoft on? His thoughts get interupted as he realizes, that Beth and Ian have stoped making noises next door. Not willing to loose the leaves he has allready counted, he drops his contemplation.
After a few moments of silence, his buddy stumbles into the master bedroom, his hair in chaos and showing the singns of slight intoxication, but otherwise ok. He staggers over to the table and picks up the bottle of champagne and shakes the last drops into his mouth. Then he gives John a funny look and walks into the bathroom.

With a sigh, John loads a palming and infiltration soft into his skillwires and then starts the seemingly night impossible endevor, to slip out under Shannon´s head without waking her. When he has finally made it, all his affort is almost made irrelevant, when Ian leaves the bathroom again and carelessly lets the door fall audiably shut. With a mubled 'G´night' the younger elf walks back into the secondary bedroom and falls into the pillow with a hollow thump. Shannon´s face is startled a bit, but she dosn´t awake.
Carefully, John draws the sheats up over the girls shoulder. Then he his suite into the laundery drawer and puts on a track-suite from Ian´s wardrobe.

Two hours later he returns from the gym and takes a shower, putting the track-suite away to get cleansed. When he emerges from the bathroom, he puts on his freshly cleaned suit. Ian is allready awake as well and having an oppulent breakfast, while watching the news and sifting through the newspapers. The mafia-lawyer has a sleepregulator as well, though he is found of it less for business reasons, then private ones.

Sunday 2/9/70 08:47:26

The churches collection ARO seems to taunt John´s sleepy eyes. The preacher´s sermons seamed neither original, nor interesting and the lawyer had to streign himself, not to fall asleep or even show obvious signs of tiredness. Going to mass after a second night without sleep has obviously been a bad idear, but when Ian had surprisingly accepted John´s half-serious proposal, he went with it.
When they where entering the church, Ian had exchanged nods with a dozend faces, half of which Ian knew to be made-men. After the mass, they are shaking a few hands, all of them belonging to the upper echelons of Boston´s underworld - many of them clients of RFS.

When they finally arrive back at the hotel, John gratfully drops his fasade and make no more effort to hide his tiredness. The afterwork nap before he met with Ian on Saturday had not been enough.
They wake the girls with a luxurious brakefast -the second for Ian, but John spared the comment, that this was starting to show in his stature- and kissed them goodby soon after. No commcodes, no promisses, thought they accepted the girls´ contact-data and didn´t say, they would not call back - maybe they really would.

John left a few minutes later, as well. Manolo was allready there, as he had requested to take a look at his sleepregulator. He made a few tests and then suggested to take a look, while he was sleeping. John gratefully fell into his bed. This time sleep didn´t fail him and he was surrounded by darkness in seconds, despite the observer at his side and the curiosity to hear, what he would say, once his charge awakened in a few hours.

Etain
Sunday 06/29/70 19:04:00

This morning’s events and words still weighed heavily on Etain’s mind and it was beginning to physically show. Sure she had “dressed up” for dinner, but gone were her bright signature colours, traded away for muted greys, blacks, blues and greens. Gone were the stylish but elaborate hairdos, replaced with a single sleek ponytail. Gone was the sparkle from her eyes tonight.

She should have been soaring above the stunning landscape. Patrick had not only managed to secure dinner reservations at the exclusive L’étoile, but the entire outdoor patio section itself. They had privacy. They had the stunning sunset at their fingertips. They had some of the finest Neo-French cuisine to ever grace their lips. And yet, none of it seemed to matter. It all felt, how did her brother put it earlier…childish.

She was staring out into the Ulster hills as Patrick was talking about Kiyomizu Temple and the O-bon festival in detail and how he wanted to take her back to Neo Tokyo to see it but she was a million miles away trying to process emotions and how to balance the now two distinct halves of her life going forward.

“…The way the hills are alive, the way the fires dance…Etain? Are you even listening anymore love? Something’s wrong isn’t it, you haven’t been yourself since I arrived to pick you up. What is the matter?” He was perceptive, and more tuned-in to her emotionally than any of her previous adventures into the dating pool. When she didn’t immediately respond, he gently placed his hand upon hers across the table. The light touch was enough to shock her back into this reality and make her honestly blush in embarrassment for getting so wrapped up inside her own head that she stopped listening to him.

“I’m sorry Patrick. It’s just been a difficult day and I just got lost in the view. Please tell me more about the O-bon festival, I promise I’ll pay attention because it truly sounds spectacular.” She tried to change the subject, not really wanting to get into the dirty details of what had her mood so sour this evening and her mind on another man. No matter how close she and Patrick ultimately became, and she was pretty sure she wanted it to be quite close indeed, he would never really understand the relationship between Etain and Conall. Unless you were a twin yourself, it was near impossible to explain let alone understand the connection, the ability to know what the other was constantly thinking because you could feel it, to know where they physically were just because you could see it, to have a best friend for life who was a mirror image of you. Sometimes she wondered how much of the connection she and Conall shared was because of the Mindlink spell they shared, and or how much that was enhanced because of their bond.

She shook the heavy thoughts from her mind and turned a genuine soft smile Patrick’s way. She thought she had succeeded in changing the subject, but while her smile was returned the look in his eyes said he wasn’t going to let her off that easy.

“The festival can wait, I’m more concerned about you right now. Please, won’t you tell me what is eating at you so I can fix it?”

She smiled again. So like a man to want to “fix things.” Like it would be that simple, she’d tell him about the “fight” that she and Conall had and he’d snap his fingers, rub his hands together, find the right tools and suddenly everything would be ok again. As much as she wanted to avoid the topic all together, considering it had a lot to do with her brother’s now obvious distain for her boyfriend, she didn’t have the energy to skirt the issue or try to put it off any longer.

“Conall and I had words today. Some fairly unpleasant things were said,” She looked down, she couldn’t bear to look into his eyes when she told him. “You could say he’s not very pleased that we are seeing one another.”

The all-knowing look and brief nod that followed assured her that Patrick was well aware of raising her brother’s ire already and had almost expected this to come about.

“Etain, I would never in a million seasons dream of coming between you and your brother. That bond is blood and nothing is stronger. I know you two are terribly close and I’m sure he doesn’t want to feel as if he is “losing” you in any way. I assure you however my intentions as well as my actions have always been honorable and I have delivered that message to your brother quite clearly, or so I had thought.”

His brow furrowed in concentration as he seemed to be playing back every word and interaction between the two men in his head. Turning his charming smile back upon her his words were soothing as he spoke and never condescending.

“I just want to see you happy, to make you happy Etain. I’d never dream of causing you trouble, pain or heartache. I don’t know what it will take to prove myself to Conall but I am willing, if I am able. You need but ask.”

A little of the weight was lifted from her shoulders by his words, but she knew her brother and he was more stubborn than a mule. Once his mind was made up, and it definitely appeared he had cast his final judgment upon Patrick, it would hardly ever be swayed.

“Perhaps once our tempers have cooled I will try to speak to him again, to reason with his stubbornness and attempt to change his mind and his outlook about us. But until then, please can we speak of more pleasant topics other than my brother?” She smiled weakly and sipped at the glass of Pino Grigio that was sitting before her.

Angus

Friday 8/8/70 19:03:19

Angus does his best to keep his fight mode up mentally as he approaches the trolls. "I need to talk to your boss, Smithers." As he finishes speaking Angus takes a drink of his beer trying act like he’s not worried at all about the two trolls standing in front of him.

The troll on the left responds, "Who's askin' ?" He steps forward looking the boxer up and down as he does.

Angus holds his ground as he speaks, "Angus is the name, Bruno sent me."

The troll glances over at Smithers who nods slightly. The troll motions Angus over to a table outside the booth area. "Drop the drink, gotta search ya chummer."

As Angus is setting his beer down the troll shoulders the shotgun, and then begins to pat Angus down. He takes his time and checks out all of Angus's miscellaneous possessions in his pocket. The only thing that seems to draw his attention is the pill bottle, but when he realizes its nothing fun he tosses back in the jacket pocket. "K, your good." Is all the troll says as he returns to his post nodding in Smithers direction.

Angus takes a minute to shift his few personal belongings back to their original spots and then slips past the trolls, smiling at the one that did the search. He has to turn sideways and suck it up to slip in to the both area, but makes it through with out getting stuck or spilling his beer.

Angus walks with purpose to Smithers table and slides in to the seat across from him. He holds a hand out to Smithers as he speaks in as steady a tone he can muster as the cramps redouble their efforts to get relief, "Angus Smith."

Angus
Friday 8/8/70 19:06:00

The well-dressed ork peered at Angus' face for several long seconds, his left eye sort of half-winking erratically the whole time. Then he leaned back and whistled. "Yeah, you are. Underneath that beard and the dyed hair, you are Angus Young. Well I guess you really never do know what what'll walk through that door when you're in my line of work. But I suppose if I had my eyes more open to opportunities, I might have guessed you'd be headed my way from the moment you went on the lam. Don't tell, must've been Bruno that sent you." He shook his head in surprised amusement.

"All right, first thing, don't ever use that name around me or this bar ever again. Especially," and he lowered his craggy voice conspiratorially, "around those two," he said, indicating the bodyguards with his eyes. "The price on your head, you can't trust nobody. Hell, the way the Star is looking for you right now, I could get twenty years for aiding and abetting just talking to you right now. Anyhow, I can guess the general reason you're here, but I'll let you tell me yourself anyway. And I'll tell you right now - I know you're loaded, and there is going to be a hefty premium for my services considering how hot you are right now."

Angus

Friday 8/8/70 19:07:01

"Well I'll keep it short to the point for you as I know you are a busy man." Angus almost folds in half as the cramps redouble their efforts to exert their control, luckily he has the table to support him. "You are correct Bruno was the person the provided we with your name and how to find you. Due to last weeks events it appears my best way to survive is to move to the shadows to make a living. I believe I have the skills that will make me successful in working in the shadows. Before I can do that I need help with a few things, first I need my old fake SIN to disappear. Second, I need a new SIN that will allow me to operate in the normal world. I'll need a drivers license, as well as one for a gun if possible, nothing major, just a heavy pistol."

Angus stops for a minute to think and then adds one last thought, "Once I'm equipped help lining up some jobs would be helpful as well."

Angus
Friday 8/8/70 19:08:04

"SIN I can make disappear - but you gotta understand that a lot of people are looking real close at you right now. I gotta get special talent on it, not only to get to the core files, but also to seed enough virus that they can't just reboot it. Gonna cost a lot. Assuming you got anything left after that, I can do licenses and fake ID, whatever - but there's quite a range of quality, and I'd need to know how much you wanna spend."

Etain
Sunday 6/29/70 23:13:13

As he had the last time he'd brought her home (in the past week they'd been on five dates, but only two locally!), Patrick opened her door (he drove himself!) and helped her out of the car. Walking to the door, Etain felt a certain warmth expanding outward from...She knew (desperately hoped) he would kiss her again tonight.

On the porch, he tood her hand and gently drew her close. It was all she could do not to just melt into his arms. He raised his hand to her cheek, but stopped short. He hesitated, gathered himself, and with quiet dignity, said, "Wouldn't you prefer to take that off?" as he glanced down at the ring finger on her left hand.

Inwardly, Etain gasped. Only now was she glimpsing the depth of the conflict her brother had tried to point out to her earlier today. During their whirlwind courtship, Patrick had kissed her four times. And except for the first, it was more than likely that Conall had, in essence, been right there with them. And to her shame, she'd been so focused on herself, so tuned out of their usual bond, that she didn't even know for sure now whether he'd been there or not.

And now she saw that the ring bothered Patrick intensely as well. Was it simply because it was on the finger destined for her wedding ring? Or had he assensed her, did he know the depth of the intimacy that Conall shared with her with the constancy of her breath?

And if she turned it off now, just abruptly cut her bond with her brother in the wake of today's unhappiness....And if she refused....Patrick's soft eyes watched her expectantly....

Angus

Friday 8/8/70 19:09:44

Angus takes a minute to think about what he would need, then pulls his comm link and starts entering things as he lists them for Smithers. "Well I gotta get rid of that that old SIN and get a replacement. I'll need something that’s going to allow me to get around and cover any basic issues like traffic stops and such. I'll also need a driver’s license, permits for a revolver, heavy-duty ammo, and concealed carry. Beating people will not always be the best way to get a job done. A few other basic items and, well if you can help me set up an apartment that would be wiz."

Angus stops talking finishes the list and sends it out for Smithers to pick up. "I've about 19k to cover everything."

Angus
Friday 8/8/70 19:12:00

Smithers looked at the display for all of five seconds. "Y19,500. Money up front, delivery in five days. That gets you two months on the apartment. People aren't gonna stop looking for you until Japan sinks into the sea, but group I know can make sure they don't have any trustworthy SIN info to use while doing it. What sort of name you want all the fake ID in? And what sort of name should I call you?"