Angus

Friday 8/8/70 19:13:17

Angus blinks a couple times at the amount Smithers tells him it will cost, Wow, thats going to hurt my funds. I hope he can come up with some work quick or I'll be outta cash quick. But its not like I can do anything on my own.

Angus digs his original credstick out and slots it in to his comm, then starts the transfer of fund to Smithers account. "There you go. Comm me at that code when its all ready. As for the names, call me "Rocky" and how about Apolo Withers for the fake SIN and associated ID's."

Etain
Sunday 06/29/70 23:14:04

At Patrick’s question she raised an auburn brow in response.

“Remove my Claddagh? It was a gift from my mentor, I never take it off.” She tried to play this cool, she wasn’t sure just what his reasoning behind wanting her to take it off, and her mind was already spinning enough that she could concoct wild reasons of her own should she give it too much thought.

She chewed nervously on her lower lip as she weighed the consequences in her head, she felt like there was no real way she could win. One way or another she’d disappoint either Patrick or Conall. In her head she was playing devil’s advocate with herself, trying to pit the pros vs. the cons of the outcomes. She risked doing severe damage if she broke her link with her brother, and yet she risked putting a serious strain on her budding relationship with Patrick if she did not.

In the end, she realized she could really only please herself.

Smiling softly she looked up at Patrick as she carefully slipped the ring from her finger and carefully slipped it into her pocket so she would not lose it. She’d never forgive herself if it were to disappear. She held up her hands in front of her face, her fingers splayed to display their now nakedness with a continued soft smile on her lips.

“Better?”

Best of both worlds… I hope.

Rocky
Friday 8/8/70 19:18:20

"All right, Rocky, you'll be hearing from me in about five days. Tell you what, how 'bout we talk about employment opportunities then. I don't mean to blow you off. I mean, obviously you're good with your hands - I suppose we could say the best in the world..." Smithers cocked his head and half-grinned, but Rocky apparently didn't find it funny. "Plus," the ork continued, sobering his countenance, "you've managed to stay out of a multi-agency dragnet for a week. So yeah, you've got human resource-type assets. On the other hand, it don't take no pharmacist to see you're hurtin' bad, and word is that's why you're in this bind in the first place. Let's see how you look in five days, and we'll talk again then. Have a nice evening."

John
Sunday 2/9/70 15:30:00

John's eyes snapped open. There was his doctor. He felt good. He sat up. They walked across the room to a low couch and sat down.

"Well, I can't find anything wrong with it. All the diagnostics check out 100%. Surrounding hypothalamus scans fine. The modification is apparently in perfect working order.
"There are, however, other considerations. I'm sure you already know the basics of the human need for sleep. It has very little to do with the body and almost everything to do with the brain. To rest your muscles, bones, and so on, it essentially is simply a matter of not moving or otherwise using them. Of course sleep enhances the process of relaxing the body, but it's not an essential component. Just lie down for eight hours and you physical self will rejuvenate just fine.
"The brain, however, is different story. All the time it is awake, it is constantly processing information from your five senses, as well as a sort of additional sense, which I will explain simply as your internal window - the conscious manifestation of your own thought processes. All this stuff your senses take in is temporarily stored for instant access in your short-term memory. But it only has so much storage capacity, and before long it needs to sort through and file as much as possible into several layers of memory access - some you 'forget' - though really it stays forever in your subconscious. Other parts you remember only vaguely, while much remains crystal clear. This filing and sorting process is absolutely essential to the brain's health, and it can only be done during sleep. So the fuller that short-term memory gets, the more your brain secretes certain sleep-inducing chemicals designed to bring on unconsciousness. If for some reason you don't get the sleep you need to do this sorting and filing, you are looking at serious mental health issues in a very short timespan.
"Now in your case, because you have what laymen call a photographic memory, you can store much more memory much closer to the surface of your consciousness. In fact, you may feel as though you are keeping everything. But it's still got to sorted - it's just that the places it gets sorted to are much more easily accessible by your conscious mind, giving the sort of illusory impression that it is all still in your short-term memory. It's not - if it were you'd suffer sensory overload within days. Think about your own thought processes - I'm sure you'll find that you still have to sort of 'reach down' or something to pull old stuff up.
"In any case, the parameters of your sleep regulator are set for your extraordinary memory. So that really shouldn't be a factor. One thing that could conceivably be a factor is the incredible amount of mental labor you perform. Reading, for example, is a very concentrated form of data intake, and if you do an abnormal amount of it, you could in theory exceed the parameters of your bioware. In theory. But I don't think that's it, either.
"What I'm getting at is that there is yet another form of stimulus the brain needs to sort and file, and in a much more in-depth, little-understood manner than your regular senses. And that is input that falls into the gray area between the logical and the emotional. Sure, we can trace most emotional responses to chemicals your brain secretes, much like the sleep chemicals I just mentioned. But exactly why and according to what criteria an individual's brain selects what emotions based on what stimuli remains very much a mystery.
"Your sleep regulator is not set up to handle extreme emotional stress. And I may be off base here, but I will mention that the most dangerous emotional stresses are the unacknowledged ones. If you have got concerns or worries you are not consciously addressing, your brain will be suffering - like a computer receiving conflicting commands. And it will try to take matters into its own hands and reconcile matters for itself. And it can only do that while you are asleep. This is the most likely cause of your sleep regulator malfunctioning. Except it's not malfunctioning, because this sort of thing is a mental and emotional health issue wholly outside the device's parameters.
"IF that's the problem. You can answer that question better than I can. Me, I don't mind saying that I've LOST some sleep over some of the things we saw in Kentucky, and whether I was in any way indirectly responsible for them. That's part of the reason I agreed to go keep an eye on one of the Mayhurst's clinics - I've got questions of my own to answer, and I'm going to face up to them till I find whatever I need to find."

Etain
Sunday 6/29/70 23:15:00

Patrick took half a step back, but softened the move by taking both Etain's hands in his own. "It's all right. The last thing I intended was to force you into some sort of emotional corner. Your heart, like your music, must be yours to do with as you wish, without apology and without compromise. But for my part, I have grown to care for you very much over these past few days, and I believe some expressions of such feelings - intimate expressions - deserve privacy." He gave a brave attempt at a smile and stepped away, towards his black Westwind. "I shall see you soon - my family are very much looking forward to Wednesday evening. I'll pick you up here at seven-thirty."

Conall
Sunday 6/29/70 23:15:00

In his room, Conall ached at his sister's conflict of heart. He could send her his blessings - it would make it so easy for her, stop her pain. But how could he bless such a clearly inappropriate choice?

John
Sunday 2/9/70 15:47:50

The elf listens to his personal physician attentively. When the mage starts talking about the thingsthey whitnessed in Kentucky, his first impuls is to rationalize the moral issues away, as he´s used to do. He dos so in his mind, but he stops himself from doing so aloud. He has no doubt, he could easily convince his employee to agree to these rationalizations, but they wouldn´t stop him from asking himself if he´s guilty in any way all the time, while he is working at the clinic. Instead John dos his best, to convince his friend, that he is not personally guilty at all, trying to take as much troubles as possible from his friends mind. After that, he thanks him and sends him off, to make preparations for his trip.

John: "Thanks Manolo, that´s all for now. I´m sure there are some preparations you have to take for tomorrow. Greetings to Hanna and the kids. Take your time, fto find, what you are looking for. We will talk on the com, tomorrow when you have arrived."

He gives the doctor a slap on the shoulder and sends him away. Then he gets ready for the business dinner at 6 - the only work he had to do today, beside somelight reading.
In the evening after the dinner, he retreats to his penthouse and just sits there and thinks for a while. About the things Manolo said, about his lot in life, about the things he has done. Not tht he dosn´t think about these things, when hes at work - hes verry good at compartmentalizing his mind - but he seldom dos so exclusively.

Etain
Sunday 06/29/70 23:15:37

Etain nodded dutifully, a deep sense of dread welling up in her stomach at the mention of dinner with his family again. At first when he mentioned it over dinner she was looking forward to it somewhat, now it just felt like she was about to be paraded like a trophy before his family. The expectedness of it, how it was right and proper for people of her class and status, it all felt…childish.

As she watched Patrick step back towards his car without so much as a kiss on her cheek she resigned herself to the disappointment and blew him a soft kiss with a slight smile and then a wave. She watched as his Westwind pulled away from the circular drive and it disappear into the inky blackness and light fog that blanketed the O’Neill estate. When she lost sight of the tiny red dots of his taillights at the gate her shoulders slumped down and she slipped inside the doors and made a bee-line up to her bedroom.

If Conall was home, he could hear as well as feel her return to the wing of their home. The wave of emotion she was riding was hardly a happy one, but it intensified as she approached her bedroom, passing his door in the process. She paused just outside his door and almost knocked, but the exhaustion of the day was taking its toll on her and she wasn’t sure she could manage what might turn into yet another fight. She walked into her room and closed the door softly behind her, engaging the lock so she wouldn’t be disturbed.

She crossed the plush carpets to stand before her dressing table and looked into the mirror before her, scrutinizing her own reflection. She didn’t look like herself, she didn’t look completely happy, something was missing and she wasn’t sure anymore just what that was. She never believed she would come home from what was supposed to be such a pleasant evening, a date with the most eligible Tir bachelor – Patrick O’Donnell, and feel this low, or even this… alone. She pulled the ring from her pocket and studied it carefully. She closed her eyes and carefully set the ring upon her dresser in her jewelry box. When she withdrew her hand, the feeling of being alone intensified one hundred fold.

She laid down on her bed and the tears flowed freely.

Rocky

Friday 8/8/70 19:20:33

Rocky, nods in acknowledgement, reaches across the table to shake Smithers hand. "Sounds wiz, catch you then."

Rocky stands and then heads for the front door, slipping between the booths trying not to trip himself as he walks out. It takes every once of control he’s got to not fall over from the cramps as he walks out. On his way out he stops at the corner of the bar and finishes the beer, leaving the mug on the bar.

Not wanting to fall apart in the bar Rocky keeps moving and get out front, making a quick turn to the left and going about a block down the street before stopping. Leaning against a building he does quick search to see if can find somewhere to crash for the next few days closer than where he's spent the last week.

John
Monday 2/17/70 10:14:00

John relaxed comfortably in the first class section of the High Speed Conventional Transport. He usually flew to England by sub-orbital, but had so much reading to catch up on before his 'vacation' that he'd decided the extra three hours of flight time might be just the no-distraction environment he needed. He alternated reading a few paragraphs and just letting his mind wander. I was trying to give his brain the space it needed to sort itself out and destress, but the demands of his job didn't let up for a second.

It was about halfway through the flight - Mid-Atlantic - and he was browsing some dossiers on some of the radical eco-groups Arthur Vogel may or may not be involved with, when he came across an interesting file on Stephen Cannon. He was a troll John had known passingly twenty years ago at Harvard. He looked like he'd aged pretty well - must be pushing 40 by now - and had apparently become a major figure in radical European environmental groups, notably Green War.

The jet jumped jarringly. The captain's voice asked passengers to return to their seats and buckle up, but before he was even through with his announcement the cabin went dark and the oxygen masks dropped out of the ceiling. A stewardess tumbled down the aisle head over heels as the plane lurched into a steep descent.

Rocky

Friday 8/8/70 19:22:19

After several minutes of looking for a coffin motel close the bar, between the intense session of cramps Rocky finds a place with in a couple blocks. He does his best to suck it up and start the walk not wanting to attract attention and have to defend him self.

On his way to the motel Rocky stops in a small stuffer shack, noticing a few things are different from the one he was in earlier today. The front widows appear to be a very thick transparent material with bars built into them. The additional bullet proof glass protecting the front counter was another good sign that he was not in the same place he was this morning.

Rocky heads to the back to grab some more food & water to get him through the next few days. Since he has his comm now with an attached credstick its much faster checking out since he doesn't have to talk to the cashier.

The rest of the walk passes with out much of interest. He sees a couple go gangers go by, but they don't seem interested in him. Once he gets to the coffin motel he finds a room, checking to make sure the door is secure from the outside before he pays for the night.

Unloading his gear, Rocky does his best to relax, which he finds hard with the ongoing cramps. After laying around in pain for a hour or so Rocky decides that he’s gotta do something or he will not make it through the night.

Rocky starts by doing some stretching even though his body fights it every step of the way, after about 45 min of stretching he starts doing his focusing exercises that he had used last week to expand his magical capabilities. At first its extremely hard and he almost gives up but, thinking about what his parents have probably gone through the last week helps him focus and fight through it.

Once Rocky is able to get focused he is able to get past the cramps, sweating and cravings which allows him to relax and then drift off in to a peaceful nights sleep.

John
Monday 2/17/70 10:14:06

When the jet starts to jump, John looks around with a startled expression, while he closes the files in his AR and opens the plane´s passangers AR overlay. As the AR indicates, he checks that his seatbelt is still closed and pulls it streight. Without thinking about it, he loads the 'flight emergancy procedures' knowsoft and the technical datasoft of this HSCT model, that he keeps stored in his headware whenever he boards a jet.

Captain: "Dear passangers pleas return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts! Stop smoking and put your back-rest into a vertical position ..."

He is almost dumping the softs from active memory again, when the captains voice suddenly breaks and the lights turn off. His eyes ajust to the darkness faster then any emergency-lights light up and he sees the oxygen-masks explode from their compartments above the seats. What the ... He witnesses the flight assistent tumble and fall down the first classe´s comparatively broad path and his fingers cramp around his arm-rests as the plain takes an aprubt dive.

SCREAMS!!! He is frozen for a moment hasitant to do anything but hold fast to his seat. Damn! MORE SCREAMS! With quick and practiced movements, he places the oxygen mask over his face and fastens it with the rubber-straps. Breath! Chaos everywere. Is this real? He looks around, to see if he can help any of his emidiate neighbours. Breath slowly!

Etain
Wednesday 7/2/70 17:23:31

Etain continued to fuss and fret over her appearance for the evening. Half of her was terrified of the dinner with Patrick's parents. The other half was counting the minutes until he arrived - they had not spoken since Sunday evening on the porch. But she knew he would arrive exactly when he'd said he would.

And permeating it all was the even deeper ache of her separation from Conall. She'd seen very little of him since that night, and spoken less. Goodness, she spoken more with her parents these last three days than with him.

Not together, of course. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen them together outside formal public occasions. But since the weekend they'd both made a few minutes for her, each giving their tacit approval of Patrick without saying anything crassly obvious.

Now she was trying on one accessory after another. She desperately wanted to look ravishing for Patrick, yet demure for his parents. She'd finally had the nerve recently to order some of the more revealing fashions so popular this season. The nerve to order them despite knowing how Father would react. But in any case, they would NOT be appropriate for tonight!

The clock was ticking, and as she tried necklace after bracer after earring, her eyes drifted to that one jewelry box.

John
Monday 2/17/70 10:14:30

Before John could do anything else, the plane's dive steepened. For a moment his body weight literally hung against the restraints, but then as the dive accelerated to maximum velocity, the G-forces pressed him back against his seat. He felt himself starting to black out, and his life started to flash before his eyes -

Winning the freedom of another serial rapist for the defense side of the Public Prosecutor's office. Getting a promotion.

Freeing another rapist. Parlaying the kudos into a job with Fuchi.

Crushing a labor movement. Getting a bonus from Fushi.

Shielding Ares from having to compensate families of Firewatch members lost in the Chicago CZ. Getting a promotion at Fuchi.

Helping a cousin of Rowena's out of a bind, and in the process forcing upon the court a precedent that will permanently cripple the RICO Act, effectively removing the overworked Justice Department's best weapon against organized crime. Having great sex with Rowena O'Malley.

Wins major Corporate Court case against Renraku over Miles Lanier's involvement on their board. Five months later Deus takes over the Arcology and thousands die by torture. Some legal commentators alleged that the settlement distracted Renraku from the Seattle situation and took funds away from due diligence measures. Getting a huge cash bonus.

As the scenes continued to play out before John's eyes, he was all the while protesting in his mind - NO NO NO! That is not ALL there is. He has done so much more. His band, basketball, struggling as a waiter, written socially conscious books, taught law to eager young minds, had and loved many beautiful women, enjoyed the finest things in life.
And then he realized - those were all things he'd experienced. The images flashing before his eyes, those were the things he'd done.

"Sir? Sir? We'll be touching down at Heathrow in just a moment. Could I get you to buckle up now please? Just for your own safety? Are you all right, sir?"

John
Monday 2/17/70 10:14:45

Wasn´t there anything worthwile I´ve done? Why dos that bother me at all, where is the problem? It dosn´t seem to be for Samantha and Ian. But then ...

John: "... WHAT THE ... ?!?"

The elf jolts into a straight position almost jumping up in his seat. In the last moment he keeps himself from punshing the steward´s hand away from his body, but manages to just tip his wrist and even brings about a sleapy looking -confused in reality- smile, to indicate everything is allright.

Of cause it was not! Fuck, I´ll get that implant diagnostics done asap when I´m back in Boston! He tries to hide his irritation and quickly pulls his lose seat-belt tight. Whome am I kidding, it´s not the regulator. He takes the last zip out of his whisky-glass and sends it along with the steward. Better to be save, it could still be the ware. The flight attendant shows his anoyance about this distraction from his curren priority duty, by raising his eyebrow ever so slightly and breaching his professionaly smileing facade. There go another 7% in your service evaluation.

John fealt really cranky. The last week had not been very stressfull. He had kept the workload comparatively low. He had even met Shannon again, if only as a distraction to keep himself from working too much. He wasn´t usually the ladies´ man, like Ian or others. This girl was probably his first compleatly non-business date in over a year. He reconed that his lack of feelings and genuin romantic interest for her must have shone through, but either the girl had not noticed or was hiding it well, or she simply didn´t care.
However the conversation with Manolo had made him think about his job´s morals more then usual. For the time being, he had come to the conclusion, that he was responsible for his employees first and foremost and thus had to fullfill the contract to the best of his abilities, no matter what crisis of concience might evolve. Maybe this was just another one of his rationalizations, but he belived it for now.

After breezing through the formalities of a paranoid police-state, John meets with Sara Smallman for brunch and exchanges some society news with her. Rhiannon wasn´t going to be free untill tonight, so he was going to spend the day in London - going to Gieves & Hawkes, to get some new threads, meeting some contacts and paying a visite to his UK offices. On Tuesday, he was planing to spend another half day in town, maybe he would even be visiting his les close relatives for once - schedulls had not been made, yet.

Rocky

Wednesday 8/13/70 18:29:36

It had been a long five days as Rocky was getting ready to hear back down the street to Crusher to see what Smithers had been able to come up with for him.

Even with his meditations Friday night he still woke up early Saturday morning craving a pill and no matter what he did could not fight the urge. The sensation was amazing, but after the high wore off he reaffirmed his determination not to keep using the pills. The rest of Saturday, Sunday and Monday had passed with out any serious issue as he went back to his routine of stretching and meditating he had started the week before.

Tuesday on the other hand was bad, he woke to cramps and a sever headache that he could not dismiss not matter what he did, and before long found himself with the bottle of pills in hand again. This is getting old, I make it a couple days and then fall apart again, at this rate I'll never kick these things.

Today had been better, and with the promise of the evenings meeting Rocky had kept himself busy all day and barely even thought about the pills as the day passed.

As he finished cleaning up in the common wash room Rocky returned to his coffin one last time to pack his gear and make the walk to the club. With everything packed he canceled his subscription for the room and took one last quick look to make sure he had everything before letting the door close. Not that it took long since the place had been barley big enough for him to stand in. Hoping this was the last time he would have to see a coffin motel for a while Rocky turned and walked toward the exit on to the street.

Wednesday 8/13/70 18:59:12

The walk was longer than Rocky remembered it being on Friday, but he was thinking much clearer now than he had been Friday night. Arriving at the club he walked in feeling much more confident than he had his first trip. Scanning the room he could see that Smithers was in his normal spot and his guards were watching the crowd go by same as before. Stopping at the bar Rocky orders a beer, using his comm to pay and give the bartender a decent tip, but not quite as much as last time. Smiling with beer in hand he makes the walk to the back, not needing anyone to point out who he was looking for this time.

John
Monday 2/17/70 21:00:00

Outside the wind is howling relentlessly, as though the Sidhe have sent the Wild Hunt to pray on John. But wind and wether, frost and snow are baned from the cozily temperated room. The fireplace crackles as though having a life of it´s own - well maybe it has, one never knows with the gifted. They both keep silent, while the huge, antiqe clock is ringing nine times.
Sunken in contemplation, John watche´s the firesreflections in his untouched drink. Semingly locked in deep contemplation, the man can still feel his cousin´s gaze upon him. The clock returns to silence -besides the constant mechanical ticking- but the pair of elves stays silent as well.

Klick-klack, klick-klack, ... .

They have already spent an hours to exchange trivial news and converse about shallow social matters.

Klick-klack, klick-klack, ... .

They could do so for the rest of the night, but like 'Captain Hook', he´s feeling as though his time is ticking away. Is there enough?

Klick-klack, klick-klack, ... .

Am I losing my soul? His heartbeat is syncronizing with the constant rhythem of the mechanical clock-work.

Klick-klack, klick-klack, ... .

He kan feel his heartbeat. At least it is still there!

Klick-klack, klick-klack, ... .

He softly places his right hand upon her left. Not moving his gaze, nore saying a word.

Klick-klack, klick-klack, ... .

He stays silent, not because there is no more to say, but because there is so much ...

Rocky
Wednesday 8/13/70 19:00:00

"Hey, sit down there. Right on time. I like that. Beard's longer. That's good. Very good. Very important. But it won't stop good facial ID software - you really should do something about your ears, forehead, or cheekbones. Especially the first two, they're more heavily weighted in the algorithm cuz they don't change as you age. But I'm rambling. How you doing?"

After a few moments of pleasantries, Smithers offers - "You look a helluva lot better than last week. I don't know if you're back on or all the way off, and I don't care - you just make sure any kicking you do, you do it on your own time, capice?"

Rocky was in no mood to talk about his addiction, and simply nodded.

"Okay, first things first. Everything you ordered is done. Check your comm. Yeah, that's right, just go ahead and check it right now."

Rocky mostly was keeping his comm off, since Redmond had little or no WiFi coverage. He'd turned it on to pay the bartender, but turned it right off again. He opened up his menu and there it all was, licenses and ID. He'd be legit if any law enforcement scanned his PAN - IF, that is, his ID passed muster. The photo on the ID even had his newly bearded face. That told him Smithers had cameras on his 'office.'

"Yeah, we flashed it over to ya when you paid for your beer. All the gear you wanted is in your new apartment, and if you'll look a little deeper in your comm, you'll see the address and entry codes. By the way, you wanna work out of the light, you're gonna need better security on that gizmo. I can help you with that, by the way." Rocky could swear he saw YYY signs flash in the fixer's eyes.

"Got ya a place in a quiet residential section of Touristville. Place sucks, gangs all over the 'hood there, but their mostly domesticated - it ain't the Barrens, is all I'm sayin', and the utilities work mostly."

Ezekiel Smithers leaned back and for the first time took a long look into the troll fugitive's eyes.

"So now we're all even, and we'll speak as equals. Man to man. You say you want to work the shadows. I've already allowed as you have marketable skills. But you gotta understand, you can't sell you professional rep - anyone you tell who you really are is like a game of Russian roulette with a life behind bars. And even if you could sell those credentials, they don't count for much in my world.
"What I'm saying is, you I think I can start you, but you'll be starting at the bottom. Fair pay for good clean muscle work, but you ain't gonna be pulling no big scores against the MCT Zero Zone or nothing like that any time soon.
"What's more important, you gotta know we use the right tool for the job. You're a tool that's good for hurting people. That's what it's gonna be all about for you until you prove you are a more diversified asset. What I'm saying is this ain't no Saturday morning anime - you're gonna get your hands dirty. I can't refer someone for work and have 'em going all Pollyanna on me.
"Now if you're up for that, I know a guy, needs a new bodyguard slash enforcer. full-time gig. He's a bad guy but a good employer. He ain't charming at all, but he's got a lotta juice. If you're serious, if you wanna hear more of what I got to say, I'll tell you more. If not, just walk away, no hard feelings, and you can count on my professional discretion regarding our dealings so far." He leans in - "Though I can't speak for those worthless mooks," he whispers, eyes going to his guards.

John
Monday 2/17/70 21:10:00

She, too, seems hesitant to break the silence. But after some while she apparently believes there is something to say.

"John, my dearest kindred, you must know how I adore you. Love you. I cannot say half so much for all my blood, but you have a special spark. You are such a good person. I sense you are troubled by things. I hope it is not business. The fact is, if I may speak of your job, as a socially conscious person I feel relieved to my very core that it is you doing what you are doing. Someone will do this sort of work for the corps. Better a man of your integrity and compassion, who I know is always fighting to minimize the impacts of what you do on the poor and the downtrodden. And in any case, we have to look at the bigger picture. Always doing anything we have to to make sure no one ever suffers or nothing ever goes wrong in the short term - let's face it, that's been tried - it was called communism. Socialism. Command economies. Welfare states. They all failed, and ended up hurting vastly more people than any corp ever could. They robbed people of even the means of bettering themselves, until those that did survive the inefficiencies and famines were practically soulless zombies. John, the decisions you make are necessary so that the corps can keep on employing people, paying them fair wages with which to raise their families. Producing the goods people need to survive on a scale that can provide prosperity to millions. That is something that is only efficient for large corps, John. The world can't go back to cottage industries. Oh, my sweet cousin, I have been thinking abou these realities so much lately, and fearing that I have been too hard on you. The work you are doing is GOOD, John, good and essential. The world is lucky to have people like you, and I just can't stand to see you questioning yourself this way."

Etain
Wednesday 07/02/70 17:23:32

Her eyes lingered on the familiar platinum band and then looked to her hand with the now bare finger. The ring had been such a part of her for the last 4 years that for the past three days she felt more naked with it sitting in its jewelry box than she could have where she to streak down the streets of Belfast at high noon on a bright and sunny day. The connection it provided with her brother was like a drug and right now she was in withdrawal, physical and mental withdrawal. She didn’t feel like she was herself with out it, her finger physically itched without the ring in place.

Oh but the dilemma! Patrick was obviously wise to the purpose of the ring, either he had assensed her and found the ring or someone spilled its secrets to his ears. If he had assensed her, what other secrets was he able to discern from her against her will? She had never taken such an intimate look at him before, no matter how tempting, she had resisted.

She wanted to talk to Conall, to be able to throw on the comfiest pair of pajama bottoms and an oversized t-shirt and sit on the deep green carpet of his room and just talk. Talk about anything and everything and somehow all the problems would resolve themselves over a matter of the hours that passed talking about anything but the problems directly. Granted the topic of her dating was never a comfortable subject, but even then she could talk to him about things and he was always logical when her emotions got in the way and was able to help her see clearly.

Now, everything was about as clear as mud.

She picked up a pair of gold earrings and slipped them into her ears, the delicate chains hanging and tickling at her neck and collarbone. Her hair was swept away from her face into two thin braids and then flowed free behind her head. She had settled on a simple peach silk dress with it’s delicate but full-flowing knee-length skirt. A cream coloured linen jacket and simple heeled sandals completed the elegant look suitable for dinner at your boyfriend’s parent’s home.

One last glance at the clock and then one glance back to the jewelry box. With a sigh she stepped forward and picked up the ring. Sitting on the edge of the bed she closed her eyes and channeled all her thought into thin but significant band of platinum as she whispers her words.

“Imar belet raen. Cirollar Draesis ti'Morel. Imo herme, od imo raeint sa. Imar cirolle, imri ne ozidan mi ranelles”

With her words whispered, she slipped the band back onto her left hand once again.

Etain
Wednesday 7/2/70 17:30:00

Patrick arrived precisely on time, and Etain was waiting. He led her to the car and opened her door. It was weird seeing him after three days without even an intervening commcall. But once on the road, he was pleasant and personable as always, and if he noticed the ring, he didn't mention it.

And if Conall had noticed she'd put it back on, well, there hadn't been much response from him, either.

They started talking though, and soon it was as if there had never been any trouble at all. He even managed to set her nerves at ease regarding his parents.

Dinner went swimmingly - so very much nicer than she had imagined. She had heard that Patrick's parents were even more stiff and convention-bound than her own mother and father, but they turned out to be ever so relaxed and charming. Over dinner Patrick's father had regaled her with tales of his military service in his younger days, and afterward his mother took her upstairs and showed off her doll collection, and then opened of albums of Patrick as a child.

No probing questions, no questioning or grilling. Just people with an obvious interest in getting to know her better.

Afterwards, in the car on the way home, Patrick had gotten a gleam in his eye about a mile from her estate. He'd pulled the car off the road into a dark glen, and taken her by the hand to view the moon through the summer leaves. Then he had taken her into his arms and kissed her as he never had before. He held her tight, and for the first time, she could feel that he was as excited as she. She devoured him, and tried to force his hands to her bottom by sheer force of will, but the passion of his kiss notwithstanding, they never moved from her back.

Coming up for air, breathless, he said, "Etain, I am so sorry for the other night. I have been beside myself with regret. I can and should never ask you to make a choice between myself and your brother - especially since, as we both well know, there is simply no earthly reason to do so. I mean," he chuckled, "the utter lack of conflict is just so obvious. To us, anyway. In time, he will see it as well."

And he kissed her again, and this time in his kiss there was a promise. She couldn't tell what, but he was offering himself to her in an undeniable way.

And then he had taken her home.

"Thank you so much for a wonderful evening. The best evening," he'd said, and kissed her on the cheek and driven off into the night.

Rocky

Wednesday 8/13/70 19:04:21

Rocky looks over the info on his comm, nodding to him self when Smithers mentions him needing a better comm. At least its something for now. He nods to him self as much as to Smithers as he mentions Rocky's need to make more drastic changes to his appearance.

When Smithers starts talking work, Rocky sets the comm down to focus his full attention on what the man is telling him. He listens to Smithers with great interest, as aside from the storys on the news or trids this is his first real experience with the shadows. He takes everything Smithers says in and slowly starts to work through it all in his head as the man stops speaking. After a minute or so he finds his voice and starts to speak, "First, thanks for what you have done so far. I know I paid for it, but I had to start somewhere. I'm interested in hearing what you can do to help me with my comm, but first I want to hear more about this job, this is the path I have chosen and now I must start walking it."

As he finishes Rocky leans back thinking to him self, Here I go, in a few minutes I'll be committed, but I think this is where I was always meant to be.

Rocky
Wednesday 8/13/70 19:05:10

Smithers nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer. "Okay, like I said, this job is sorta like personal assistant that hurts people. You stick close by this guy whenever he goes anywhere, and you do whatever he says. He's got a lot of irons in the fire - he won't need you all the time - schedule's real irregular, but whenever he calls, you jump. It's not a part-time gig or anything - while you're on this guy's payroll, you're livin' the life."

The fixer gave the troll a look, to make sure he had his attention.

"This is a made guy. He and I go way back, though I sure as hell wouldn't say as friends - he's too much of an asshole for even me to claim him as more than an acquaintance. But he'll pay you better than anyone else will pay a total noob for this kinda meathead work. Thousand a week, and there'll probably be bonuses if you do a good job, and if you don't, well, let's not think that far ahead.
"Now make no mistake, you're not being brought into the Families - you're strictly hired help. But fancy oaths or not, I don't need to tell you what happens to people with big mouths. It's a good way to work - I started out doing this exact same type of thing, and so did Bruno....long as you don't mind gettin' your hands dirty."

He takes out a thick bundle of hard nuyen currency - the real stuff - Imperial Bank of Japan stamped all over it. "This is an example of how this guy throws cash around. There's 2K there - just to hang around waiting for me to call you and set up an intro with this guy. But don't get all gushy on me, cuz you're gonna have to use most of that right away to get yourself a proper suit. Got any questions?"

John
Monday 2/17/70 21:11:00

When the duchess finally brakes the suffocating silence, John braces himself for another moral lecture, but when the first sentences are out, he can´t but be confused and startled. Though her words are what he had longed for in every dark hour of his soul, he feels like the world is upside-down when his cousin finally offers them.
Still the concessions feel like cool water quenching the flames of pain on burned skin. He grips her delicate hand more tightly. There are two convictions fighting inside him, literally taring him apart and it feels so sweet, to have Rhiannon finally acknowledge his strugle to balance the needs he saw.
Still, now that he has her absolution, it suddenly feels strange. Suddenly she was the one, to rationalize the way he used to do. Is she giving in to his arguments, only to take away his grief or dos she just soften up her speach a bit, because he saw some of his points and felt like she had done him unjust? Dos she really mean it? Is this some kind of test? Is this even hapening?
John feels like he is losing his senses. Am I asleep again? He turns a confused expression towards her, bagging for answers to his unasked questions. Have I convince her?! He wasn´t even really convinced himself anymore! Was she breaking in? Suddenly these toughts fealt not so pleasent at all. She had allways been his moral anchor and compass, the northstar guiding him, not to stray too far from the path. What would become of him if he lost that sorce of direction? Her words on his last visite replay in his mind.
Rhiannon: "Oh John, never mind. If you spew those rationalizations enough, you might actually start believing them, and then all hope for your soul would be lost." ... Would he be lost if she belived them?
John opens his mouth, but no words come out, his eyes welling up in joy and fear and he wants to whisper I´m losing my mind ... .

John
Monday 2/17/70 10:14:30

"Sir? Sir? Wake up sir. Are you all right? Shall I call up our remote physician? Sir, are you in some distress?"

Rhiannon Glendower's beautiful elven features morphed into the concerned expression of the pretty first-class flight attendant.

John
Monday 2/17/70 10:14:37

John whispering: "I am l.." He blinks a few times to clear his eyes from the blure and gives the stewardess a puzled look. Finally he gives her hand free and says with a straight voice. "I am ok, thanks."

Trying to look unconspicious, he gives his surroundings a good look, not trusting his senses. He can´t shake the strong feeling of alienation. With a thought he calls up the crafts AR, to see where and when he is, mistrustfull if even these readings are real.

Rocky

Wednesday 8/13/70 19:06:37

Rocky reaches across the table to take the roll of cash. "I'm in. No questions on the job, sounds simple. I'll look in to getting a suit tomorrow."

Rocky takes the roll of cash and slips it into his jacket pocket, glancing around to see if anyone was watching what was going on. He then pulls his comm out where Smithers can see it, setting it down on the table. "So you got someone around that can help me upgrade this thing or just set me up with one that’s going to be a little more secure?"

John
Monday 2/17/70 10:14:37

John swaps away the Cannon-file with an actual physical move of his left hand, though it is his mind, that closes the window. For 1 hour 12 minutes and 15 seconds, he trys to occupy his mind with listening to the news and reading intelligencereports unrelated to his case. He wouldn´t mind having Marlean Tompson and Abram Fahd accompanying him in the first class -after all each day off wor was allready costing him 1 million nuyen bonus; the number really hurt, when he thought about it- but for some reason, they had not been abled to get 3 1st class HSCT flights from Boston to London in the same plane and at the time they needed them.
Finally he picks up work again however, though he takes a break and stares out of the emergancy-escape´s window every now and then. Looks like Cannon really climbed the eco-terrorist cariere-ladder. Finding prove for any link between the dwarf and this trog would be worth gold in the upcomming weeks.

After security-controlls anoyingly similar to his daydream, he starts his schadull in the city. Though at first, he hasitates to go through with the day as planed his superior perception and memory help shake off the odd feeling, by noticing the small differences between this and what his mind had went through on the plane. Still in the evening, he is reluctant -almost fearfull- to procede to Gwyddon and face his cousin. Finally, he manages to push the troubling thoughts aside, going through some work with Marlean on the tilt-rotor to Harlech.

Rhiannon´s reception is pleasant as allways, owever. After refreshing himselfand putting on some fresh clothes, he participates in an inofficial dinner-party with the Duchess a few relatives and some other nobles. Even though he dos not normally likes to be with the aristocraty, this time it´s very relaxing, to indulge in trivial conversation with little meaning on the surface, but often holding more then one meaning. Everyone´s dublicety is occupying his concentration in a way, that makes him forget about his mind´s struggle.

John
Tuesday 2/18/70 08:21:01

The snow is crunching under every step and his breath releases couds of myst from his mouth, as he makes his way through the beautyfull gardens. It´s neither windy nor snowing and though it´s still icy cold, John´s high-tech sports-ware is keeping him warm, while still alowing his sweat to evaporate. Abram Fahd is running besids him and two of Rhiannon´s castle-guards are keeping an eye on her guests from a good 50 yards away, but the lawyer is alone - sunken in his thoughts, as his mind replays the last day´s events backwards.
He had gone to bed late, after the party had went on into the dead of the night. John had made a fairly good figure among the aristos, as far as he can tell - and as far as his cousin had told him. The afternoon had been packed with shopping - especially ordering a few new suits at savile row no. 1. He had visited 'Peter Pan, drag on!' -a musical at the London Palace Theater- with his two employees. It had been refreshingly critical about the government, but everything suspicious had been buried under tons of sillyness, some good singing and showmanship and a great implementation of AR-FX. During lunch-time, he had gone through some documents with Marlean and participated in the Boston morning-brifing, without eating anything. He had still been satisfied from the brunch with Sara before. He rewinded the stress at the airport, the horrible flight and how he had awakened that morning from a night of uneasy sleep. He had sleapt much better last night and is feeling almost stressfree at this moment, less then 24 hours after these events.

His memories run forward again, reviewing the day a second time, but in a kind of 'accellerated slowmotion' this time and from a third person pov. He relives the flight and the security checks. While they waited for Sara, they had planed his schadulls for this week. The program in London and the dinner-party.
Today jogging, breakfast with Rhiannon, some -very little- work and the Boston morning-brifing, lunch without his cousin -she had to attend another meeting- , a nice trip to through surrounding lands on horseback with the duchess, tea-time, a visite from a 'surprise-guest' (John had allready found out, that Rhiannon had invited a retired buttler from his childhood-days, with whome he had been quiet close, but he intended to play along with the surprise), dinner with some other guests from the domain of Snowdonia ...
Tomorrow was still a bit in flux, but Friday morning he´d depart early after only a short breakfast, to meet some relatives -a mare visit out of politeness- and maybe visit a museum or gallery, befor he hoped back to Boston - he was going to spend all Friday -arriving in Boston in the morning- to get his Sleepregulator compleatly checked through, by his companies bioware-specialists.

They have been unning for a while and slowly make their way back, while John is reviewing yesterdays encounter with Sara Smallman.

Rocky
Wednesday 8/13/70 19:07:00

The YYY nuyen symbols seem to flash across the ork's eyes once again. "Champ, I can fix you up with whatever you want, although that thing on the table right there just ain't worth upgrading. You just let me know how much you want to spend, and I will trick you out good." He pauses and the right corner of his mouth turns upward - a strange juxtaposition to the uncontollable twitching of his left eye. "Of course, I assume since you're asking me and not just going down to the closest geek shop that you are looking for some ICE of a somewhat darker hue than the local powers that be smile upon?"

Etain
Wednesday 07/02/70 23:47:05

The night ended in a mix of emotions, of passions left unfulfilled, but a sense of promise of things to come. Etain leaned up against the alcove of the front door and sighed heavily as she looked up to the moon and the stars as if they might have some sense of guidance for her. Sadly they had no answers tonight, but only instilled in to her the need for patience.

Patrick’s parents pleasantly surprised her this evening, she was betting on many more expectations and high stuffy standards to have to live up to from all that she had heard about the O’Donnell family growing up. Instead they were kind, normal people, more warm and welcoming than her own parents really. She couldn’t help herself, when his father was regaling his days in the military, thinking about how much Conall would enjoy sitting down with this man and “talking shop” so to speak. The tension had gone on too long and a serious heart to heart had to take place with her brother before this festered any longer, preferably before her studies this week as it was starting to effect her concentration. With a resigned sigh she unlocked the front door and slipped inside the dark house and made her way quietly up to her room, to sleep and dream of what might be in store for her.

Thursday 07/03/70 9:15:05

Even the steam of an extra hot chai tea latte couldn’t penetrate the fog she was in this morning. She was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and an oversized t-shirt, something comfortable for her to move and sing in as she waited in the basement studio for Pat Murphy’s arrival. She had given in when he pressed her about her training and scheduled an extra session with him as she hadn’t been giving the same effort to her voice as she had with her relationship lately.

The hardest part was having to decline an invite from Patrick and his friends for a summer picnic lunch and just general hanging out and enjoying the gorgeous weather they had been blessed with for early July.

Her disappointment was interrupted with her vocal coach’s arrival and his quiet but firm insistence that they get started right away. He threw her into diction drills and then warmed her up by running up and down the scales a number of times.

“You can’t rest on your laurels from your success at your last performance at Midsummer’s Night Etain. You have to keep pushing yourself, reaching for the next level, preparing for more performances. Speaking of performances, there is a beauty of an opportunity for you coming up in mid-August. After discussing it with your mother we both decided that it isn’t something you can afford to pass up and you will be performing with some very top-rated singers. We need to get ready, to find the perfect song for you, starting today.”

The wind felt like it was sucked out of her, the strength of her tone dropping noticeably as she was informed, no told what was going to happen in her future. The thought of not having control over what she did, where she went and who she entertained with her voice both angered and terrified her. She knew many young talented singers who had “handlers” and “managers” who told them when to eat, when to sleep, when to sing, when to go to the bathroom even. She didn’t want that to happen to her, especially if it cost her her budding relationship with Patrick.

Of course on the other hand, a chance to sing with some of the best of the best was an opportunity she couldn’t cast aside lightly. She focused her attention on her practice session, Pat’s suggestions and demands to make her better. She finished off the two hours by looking over five or six songs Pat thought would show off her range and her tone the best at the August performance.

Friday 07/04/70 16:57:02

Cinead was a patient woman. If she hadn’t been, Etain likely would have never learned anything related to magic. It was hard to balance both of her talents these days, to find time to work on and grow each one. Her voice was demanding more and more of her time because of the upcoming concert, so much so that she was forgetting things she had already learned magically a while ago.

Etain’s latest project had been to work on a spell that allowed her to “create” dreams for a sleeping person. It was an extension of her desire for creative expression, to accompany her vocal talent. Cinead warned her and was leery of teaching her the spell because of the potential for it to be used for mischief and or mental harm. When Etain had finally convinced her she wanted to use the power for good, not nefarious means, the elder woman had relented and began gifting the young Elven woman a new avenue to express her magical talents.

Wednesday 07/23/70 23:47:05

She was exhausted and worn down. The past few weeks had been taxing and exciting with little time for relaxation. Nearly every day was filled with either a session with Pat working on the piece for the concert, or a class session with Cinead fine tuning the spells she had added, or even re-added to her personal grimoire. A lot of reading and theory with limited practice since she was run down already and too much strain was a danger to her body, her health and mostly to her vocal chords.

The little down time she had was often spent with Patrick, their friends, or even with her brother. She had extended the olive branch to her brother as a proverbial peace offering, never asking him to like Patrick like a best mate, but to at least accept and understand that right now he was making her happy and that was what mattered. Things still weren’t back to “normal” between the twins, but it was a lot less hostile and they were making inroads to repairing their bond.

She was looking forward to tomorrow, she had invited everyone over to the house for a day of relaxation and downtime after declaring to her two teachers that she “needed a day off for her mental health.” They both had reluctantly agreed as long as she promised to take it easy. She had invited all the usual suspects, Patrick (of course), Fiona, Keelin, Conall and Declan and more of their closer friends. It wasn’t going to be a wild party where people would swing from the chandeliers, but more about swimming in the pool, screening new-release movies in the theatre and eating. Lots and lots of eating.

Rocky

Wednesday 8/13/70 19:09:01

Rocky seems to stop for a minute, thinking to him self, "Well I don't think I'm looking for anything illegal so let me see what I can find. I'll stop by if I'don't have any luck. Anything else we got to cover tonight?"

Rocky
Wednesday 8/13/70 19:09:11

"Nah, that's all I got," Smithers said. "Get the suit and be ready to show soon as I call you."

Etain
Thursday 7/24/70 22:54:00

What a glorious day. For one thing, and she hated to admit how it had affected her, it was the first time Etain had seen Patrick with his shirt off. 'Nuff said.

But fun had been had aplenty by all - the party a great success, although she wished Keelin and Fiona would stop spying on everyone with that annoying bug toy - Skeeter Pee Pee they'd christened it - were they five years old? It was true that boys got coarser when they were together, but girls got sillier. And yet they had gotten some juicy tidbits on some of the partygoers, especially when they'd left the thing in the rafters of the old pump room - her friends had almost wet themselves as Etain had turned beet-red.

And now Patrick was planning a special party of his own. Two nights hence, he'd rented out the Rose & Brier for the evening. She loved that place - it masqueraded as a traditional pub, but catered to the younger and more fashionable set, and as the night wore on the drinks grew more exotic and the music more trendy.

Of course everyone was invited - and it was to be a masquerade party. How delicious, especially with so many of the gifted among their number.

John
Thursday 2/20/70 11:00:00

Bonggg...bonggg...bonggg

They had been sitting by the fire chatting late into the night, the klick-klack, klick-klack of the antique clock and the crackle of the fire bringing John a painful sense of deja vu.

They had both avoided any discussion of his work since his arrival days earlier, but now, on the eve of his departure, as the hour grew late, she broached the topic as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"So cousin, how's the legal trade?"

John
Thursday 2/20/70 23:00:29

John is replaying his mid-atlantic daydream word by word, only in his imagination, cripled ork children are flying circles around his head and taunting him all the time - calling him Captain Hook, even. Sir? Sir? Wake up sir. Are you all right?

Rhiannon: "John?"

He shakes off the starling vision and turns his gaze away from his empty glass, to look into her eyes. Thinking for a second to find some clever answer, he drops the efort and simply says.

John: "It´s been ... complicated."

When he hears his own words, he is a bit anoyed by the tone telling so much more then he intended to convey. His cousin could clearly tell that he wasn´t refering to the intellectual chalange his work posed. To distract a bit from his own feelings, he quickly adds.

John: "But I´m sure your sorces have you informed about my progress."

He smiles trying to disarm the situation, though inside he is in turmoil. A month ago he would only have whished for her to tell her, that he was not doing a bad thing. Since last monday he isn´t so sure anymore if he wants this kind of concession from Rhiannon. In his eyes he can see, that she is seeing right through the smokescreen. To attest it and move on, she states what was clear from the begining.

Rhiannon: "My dear, I wasn´t asking about your progress. I can see without a spy, that you are more troubled then last month!"

John: "It´s been complicated." Is all he gets himself to say. Only after a few minutes of silence dos he bring himself to go on with awkward words, devoid of his usual eloquence. By his tone and expression, Rhiannon has to be reminded of his condition almost a decade ago.

John: "I have troubles sleeping ... troubles staying awake. I still want to think it´s some implant-malfunction, but Manolo didn´t find any. I am in fear that you where right, that there IS nothing good in what I do." If I had the choice now, I wouldn´t have taken that contract. He lies to himself.
"But I don´t see a way out, now. At least non that I´m ready to bare the concequences. There are so many people that depend on me. I want to minimize the unjust, I really want to, but not to the point that it harms my ... . I don´t know if I can walk this path any longer, when I´m done, but I can´t simply walk away now."

His eyes turn misty and he reaches out for her hand, as words fail him and he looks to his most beloved friend and relative for the mercy of taking away the burden of talking from him. Waiting for her to lead the conversation again.

Rocky

Wednesday 8/13/70 19:09:57

"Wiz, then I'll get out of your way, I'll be ready when I'm needed." With that Rocky reaches out and shakes the ork's hand. Then grabs his duffle bag from next to the booth and makes his way past the guards. Rocky scans over the others in the bar to see who all is there and what’s going on. Once outside he powers his comm back up, setting it to passive mode. He pulls up his new ID and scans through the details as well as his new address.

With the help of his mapsofts he figures out where he is going. Setting the comm to beep when he needs to change directions he clips it back to his belt adjusts his bag on his shoulder and starts the walk. The sky is still over cast from the earlier rain and it occasionally starts back up, forcing Rocky to find cover or get wet. It makes the trip a bit longer but it doesn't bother Rocky as it gives him some time to think about the new direction his life has taken.


Wednesday 8/13/70 20:03:07

Rocky stands outside the building that his new place is supposed to be in. Not exactly what I've gotten used to over the last few years, but its gotta be better than the damn coffins I've been in. Walking up toward the front door a few orks and humans in jeans and leather watch him walk by, looking him up and down. Rocky just keeps moving not wanting to give then a chance to recognize him for who he really is. The entry of the building has stairs, an elevator and what look like may be old fashion mailboxes. How freakin' old is this place? Rocky keeps moving and heads up two flights of stairs to the 3rd floor, taking a right off the landing he passes a few doors before he gets to his. He keys in the entry code and then pushes the door open.

Inside he finds a simple 3-room box, including a decent size living/ kitchen are one bedroom and a bathroom. A few random pieces of junk are laying around the room but other wise its not in too bad of shape. Closing the door he drops the duffle bag and makes sure his comm is set to hidden mode, setting it so only Smithers comm code would make it through. Walking around he finds a box on one of the kitchen counters, guessing it’s his gear he heads that way first.

Opening the box he finds his new pistol and accessories, taking it out of the box he looks it over and then sets it on the counter. He also unpacks the ammo he had requested, some off the shelf glasses with a few upgrades, and a few other miscellaneous items. Realizing that his coat and clothes are not there he heads for the bedroom. In the center of the floor is an old mattress, but nothing else of interest. Moving over to the closet he opens the door to see the clothes he had ordered and the large lined coat hanging there. "Ah much better," he says to himself.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, Rocky unpacked the few items he had and ate the last of his soy bars. he spent most of the evening surfing the matrix to figure out where to get a decent suit that may provide some protection since it appeared that for his first job the lined coat might not be the thing to wear. Then he finds the local geek shop, saving the addresses he plans his day. He spends the last of his evening on Ruger's site reading about his new weapon and how to take care of it.

Thursday 8/14/70 09:09:45

The mattress had not been to bad and Rocky figured it would do the job for a few weeks until he had some cash coming in. Rocky started his day with a long shower where he didn't have to worry about someone grabbing his stuff, which was a nice change. He updated his dye job to make sure none of the roots were showing and then got dressed, opting to wear the new lined coat for the days shopping.

After a quick stop at a dinner just down the block for breakfast he was off. his first stop was the geek shop he had found close enough to walk to. It was a quick but expensive stop. After vaguely outlining what he needed the salesman when in to his routine. Rocky quickly stopped him and told him to just give him what he asked for. About 10 minutes later he walked out with a comm and software that would keep his information a little more secure.

Once he was done with the comm, he called for a cab to get a ride to the shop that had the best deal he had been able to find for a suit with some built in protection. During the cab ride, he transferred his comm account and information to the new equipment and did his best to encrypt it with the encrypt software he had picked up. The cab ride was short so by the time he had finished his electronic work he was outside the store.

Inside he pulled up the store map on his comm doing a quick keyword search, "troll, suit, armored" he was directed toward the back of the store. As he approached what appeared the rack he was looking for another display came up asking for his measurements, it also had an option for a scan if they were unknown. 5 minutes later he had his measurements figured out and was looking through the few choices they had in stock that would fit him. He settled on a black Evo BizSport, that he hoped would meet his needs for looks and protection. After having it boxed up and getting some care instructions he headed for home.

Thursday 8/14/70 14:29:05

Making a quick stop at home Rocky dropped off the suit and old comm. Taking a short walk he did some shopping a the local stuffer shack, picking up some more soy bars but also getting items that needed to be heated and such now that he had somewhere to cook. It was a quick trip and Rocky soon found him self at home waiting for the call that would signal the start of his new job.

Rocky
Thursday 8/14/70 15:06:00

And he didn't have to wait long. Practically as soon as he got home, his new comm was buzzing.

"All right, clean up and be here ready to work at seven."

John
Thursday 2/20/70 23:03:00

But she did not say much, or at least she spoke few words.

"Now is the most dangerous time for you. For now that you have seen the path, failure to walk it would be a greater sin than ever before. For there are no more excuses for you now, my cousin. And yet the courage required to recognize that path is as nothing compared to the courage to walk it."

Rocky

Thursday 8/14/70 15:06:27

"I'll be there." Is all Rocky gets out before the line goes dead. Damn that was quick, glad I didn't sleep in any later today. With that Rocky heads for the bedroom to start getting his gear ready.

Rocky starts with hanging the suit up and removing the tags, picking bits of lint off as he goes. Then he goes to the closet pulling out the box everything had been delivered in, he slowly lays all his equipment out so he can decide what exactly he wants to take with him for his first night. As he looks over the items he starts putting the things he knows he will not need back in the box. After about 5 minutes he is satisfied that he has everything that he owns ready to go. Rocky takes his time loading the Warhawk and then the speed loader. He puts the rest of the ammo back in the box, If it gets hot enough tonight that I need to go through more than this I’m in trouble.

After sorting his gear, Rocky jumps in the shower, partly to clean up and partly to give him a couple minutes to think. Once he’s out of the shower he cleans up his beard and spikes his hair with some gel trying to change his appearance as much as possible. He then takes a seat on the bed and starts going through his mental exercises to mentally prepare for the night.

After almost two hours of exercises Rocky stands up mentally refreshed and ready to go. He takes his time dressing making sure everything fits and his gear is stored when he will be able to find it. With the help of the concealable holster he is able to keep his gun in the small of his back, where unless the jacket is pulled tight no one can see it. Once he’s done he closes up the apartment and heads down stairs, calling a cab as he does.

He only has to wait a couple minutes for the cab to arrive, as he climbs in he gives the cabby an address as close to the club as he think he can get him to go with out getting reamed. After doing the walk several times he thought he had a good idea where that would be. The cabbie grunts and then starts the short drive. As he climbs out Rocky uses his comm to pay the tab and a small tip. “Thanks.” He then closes the door and starts the walk the rest of the way to the club, Here goes nothing.

John
Thursday 2/20/70 23:04:00

He waits for her to speak on for a few moments, but when she dosn´t he gives her hand a light squeez and turns his gaze into the fire, to thinks for a while, not giving her hand free jet. Then he turns his eyes back to meet her´s and, taking a more steady grip at her hand, tantatively replyes.

John: "But ... is there only the one right path to follow? Is it not possible to keep the balance in the middle?"

He reiterates his arguments for the hundreth time, but this time they are no shallow phrases or rethorical questions. When she denies an answer, anyway, he goes on, his determination to find a solution reborn from his state of resignation and helplessness.

John: "I know you think there is only one correct choice..." He intensifies his gaze into her eyes and steels himself as it hurts to speak out the differences between their convictions aloud. "But you know that there is more that I belive in, then equiety of all people and our ecological responsibility. I can´t shut my eyes from either side of the problem. That´s why I have to search for the middle path, because I can see both sides." He pauses for a moment and furrows his brows. "There are trials ahead for this world and it won´t be abled to face them and prevail without some people getting their hands dirty."

He puts his other hand on her´s as well and brakes eyecontact for a moment to search for the right words, as everything he comes up with seems to sound hollow and don´t convey his meaning. Finally he takes a deep breath and sattles with the inadequate formulations at his disposal.

John: "I have to find a middle path, even if it means to chose evil at times. I know you belive that´s wrong and I thank god for you to tell me so. For while I might be dealing with the devil and I may lose my soul in it, it is you, who keeps me from becoming a devil myself!" Am I becoming a devil? Should I just walk away, get killed and let my friends suffer?

He drops his eyes to their hands and sighs, dissapointed that he didn´t find better words, unsure still, that he is not just lying to himself.

John
Thursday 2/20/70 23:09:00

"Sir Francis Bacon remarked that, 'A little philosophy inclineth man's mind to atheism, but depth in philosophy bringeth men's minds about to religion.' My dearest John, your philosophy is wide enough to see the virtuous roads that evil may lead the courageous down...for a while. But it is not yet deep enough to see that a world that required evil to do good is a world that would long ago have collapsed into entropy."

John
Thursday 2/20/70 23:09:00

John: "I can´t tell how much I hope you are right, but ..." He meets her eyes again for a moment, then turns themaway toward the fire. "I am afraid I´ll have to find this truth myself." If it exists. The turns back to face her. "Can you forgive me?" His eyes reflect his fear of her answer, as this question encompasses more then just the quest to fnd wisdome for himself.

Etain
Saturday 07/26/70 12:04:24

Her excitement was nearly tangible as she exited the shower and wrapped herself in an oversized fluffy white robe. She was hours away from Patrick’s party and it was sure to be the event of the summer. She was still amazed he had managed to pull it all together on what seemed like such a short notice. She was nearly foaming at the mouth to get to the Rose & Briar on Patrick’s arm this evening.

The notification of an incoming call on her commlink image display broke her sudden daydreaming and she accepted the call from Fiona. Her friend was positively beside herself trying to decide what to “go” as this evening. Freaking out would be an understatement. Then before she could begin to give her words to calm her down she got notification of a call from Keelin. Instead of trying to juggle both conversations, she conferenced the girls together and the three chatted, laughed and talked about tonight’s party. Fiona couldn’t stop gushing about a handsome lad by the name of Seán, a friend of Patrick’s that she had met at the impromptu pool party which drove Keelin to shyly ask if Conall was planning on attending the party tonight as well.

Etain couldn’t help but smile big for her friend and happily let her know that yes, her brother would be attending the masquerade at the Rose & Briar this evening, and no, he didn’t have a date. It took a lot of cajoling and promises that she wouldn’t embarrass him and make him wear a silly costume to get him to agree. Actually it took a lot more than that. A good three or four hours were spent yesterday begging and pleading for him to come because she wanted him to be there, that he needed to relax and to try to get him to understand that while she had growing feelings for Patrick there were no wedding invitations being printed (that she knew of!) nor was she being foolish, careless or whorish with him in any way. For some reason he relented. Perhaps it was because she pulled out all the stops and was being as stubborn as he usually was when it came to not taking no for an answer.

Fiona was still whining in her ear about not having a costume that was “good enough” to wear and Keelin was talking about how she was planning to go as a Fae Princess, which lead to the two of them double-teaming Etain and trying to pry out of her who she was dressing up as. She however held her ground and refused to tell anything about her costume save for it would be a “surprise” when they arrived. She refused their offer to arrive together, since that would spoil the fun of the guessing game, and besides Patrick had arranged transportation for the two of them so she could arrive on his arm.

She politely excused herself from the call saying she needed to get ready which was entirely true. If she was going to pull off the full charade, she had a lot of prep work to do and it needed to be uninterrupted. She went into “hidden” mode on her comm., muting it’s ringer so she wouldn’t be bothered. Only exception was if a call from Patrick came, she’d have it ring right through in case there were any changes in the plan. That being said she glanced towards her closet and the stunning dress that was hanging before her. She had pulled a number of strings, called in favours from the seamstresses that put together some of her performance outfits, or at least tailored them for her, and shelled out a lot of cash to get the “perfect” dress.

Three people knew (some of) her plans for the evening; Conall, Patrick and her. Some things she kept to herself for the time being because everyone knows a girl’s gotta have her secrets.

John
Thursday 2/20/70 23:09:10

"John, I will always love you, for you are too strong to sway with any other emotion. But even the most forgiving man that ever walked the earth only forgave the ignorant and the repentant. That is why you are now in danger, for there is no longer any question of your ignorance. And repentance, that can only be achieved by the forsaking of sins."

John
Thursday 2/20/70 23:09:19

John: "And this love of your´s will allways be returned, my dear!"

He offers her a sad smile. Her answer relieves and worrys him at the same time. In his mind, he gathers the arguments, to defend his choices, but he dosn´t apply them. He dosn´t want to sway his cousin´s opinion trough mind-games, intellectual tricks or eloquent rethorics. It is interesting that you quote Bacon. A student of law and man of sciences and -corrupt or not, that is for the historians to decide- an opportunistic man.

John: " 'The more discordant, therefore, and incredible, the divine mystery is, the more honor is shown to God in believing it, and the nobler is the victory of faith.' "

'When the book of all hearts is opened, I trust I shall not be found to have the troubled fountain of a corrupt heart.' I might not have clean hands after this, but my heart shall be without a stain, or else I WILL forsaken, what I can recognize as sins.

John: "Unlike your´s my love, MY faith has allways been lacking. I can not see the world in back and white."

But I can not agree, that no good can come from a deed, that encompasses undesirable consequences. For we live in a world of dualities, everything is a trade-off between gains and losses, a vast sea in shadesof gray, with only so many tiny dots of pure darkness or light. If we deny to chose the lesser of two evils, for it will still be chosing evil, then others will chose for us and we have allready lost.

John: "Thuss, I will lay my fate into your beloved hands, if you allow it. I ask you but one thing, to give me the chance to see for myself, that there is no merit in what I am set up to do. If I do find, that the merits can not outwaight the cost of my deeds, I will walk away from this task. " Nothing dos he want to do more, then have her decide here and now, for him to procede or brake his contract. However, neither dos he want to burden her concience with the deadly consequenses the breach would have, nore dos he want her to feel guilty for not asking him to stop it all!

Testing pharmaceuticals on animals, even when done responsibly, is cruel, but the inovations can save millions of metahuman lifes. Moving Winternight´s EMP-bombs to the outskirts and surrounding areas of Brussels, Tenochtitlan and Washington FDC probably caused the deaths of douzends or hundreds, that might have survived otherwise, but it saved many more. Kilimanjaro was a horrible tragedy, but it empowered mankind to really reach for the stars. Of course, everyone prefers a mutual sollution, but that is seldom possible in this imperfect world. So we have to search for the smallest evil, that brings about the greatest good. The world needs to be prepaired when 'The Fiend' comes knocking! Only once had John rambled about the theory spawned by the Big D´s comments on the Aztlan-document in Shadowland. Even though he had been drunk then, he had allways thought to have seen in her eyes, that she knew more about it then she would tell. He had never mentioned it again, just like the 'elven conspiracy' that -if it existed- nobody had ever let him in on.

John: "Should I finish this task in the belive that I can do more good through it, then I do bad, I will then ask you to judge it again when it´s done. If you still find no merit in it, then I will forsaken my path and hope that you can still forgive me for my quest to see the truth with my own eyes."

John
Thursday 2/20/70 23:11:00

Rhiannon smiles with sad and almost surprised humor. "Oh, John, now I know you are in dire straits, surrendering your fate to me. But there is no redemption in a choice made for you. You won't escape your trial so easily as that. Strength, cousin. I think you will find the trials facing your soul are vastly more rigorous than any your mind or body shall ever meet."

John
Friday 2/20/70 09:29:59 GMT

Placing his empty tea-cup back on the mahagony table, John stands up, as dos his cousin, the Duke of Norfolk, just as the clock turns half past nine. With a tight handshake, formal best whishes and farewell, the Duke excuses himself and his guest is received by a servant and guided out of the room. As every year, his cousin, the 'Lord of the Stinkfens' had spared half an hour of his precious time, meet John after the lawyer´s birthday. Usually the thirty minutes where spent in polite but fairly meaningless conversation, but this year, it had almost looked as though the private meeting would go on for hours, as the aristocrate had enthusiastically talked about his new investments. The man seamingly allready saw his ascesion to renewed wealth and power - and true, if everything went well, the Dukes portfolio would go straight up in worth, giving him the funds to -hopefully- revitalise the fens -or at least part of it- which in turn should give him a great boost in political influence and of course in social esteeme.
Not a month ago, John had seen himself on the path to power - real power. This deal would bring him a big chunk of NeoNET shares, which with shifting some of his other investments, would give him a large enough voting-block, to make it worth sitting on the board. If he decided to have RFS incorporated as a wholy owned NeoNET holding -which they where salivating over since the last five years- he would even become a small major share-holder. Even after seeing the ork childrens sorry lot in Kentucky, he thought that this kind of influence would give him the power to out-do his wrongdoing tenfoldor more with good deeds. Now he wasn´t so sure anymore, if he would make it - he was asking himself if it was worth it all.

Friday 2/20/70 07:45:01 EST

The flightpersonal asks all passangers to sit down and put on their seatbelts, as the HSCT aproaches Boston. John feels his stomach contract at the memory of his flight to London, but quickly pulls tight his seatbelt and then returns his attention to the golden pocket-watch he is holding. He had considdered brifely, to adjust the precious antique watch, the 19th Duke of Norfolk had given to his cousin as a birthday-present, to EST, but had decided to keep it on London-time for sentimental reasons. It wasn´t like he would use it to measure the passage of time, anyway. Sunken in thoughts, he fingers the Dukes of Norfolk´s coat of arms engraved into the golden casing.
"Sola Virtus Invicta" - 'Virtue alone is unconquerable' - he reads the family´s motto silently and falls back to last night´s conversation.

Thursday 2/20/70 23:11:03 GMT

No second dos he waste to answer with a slight smile but a sincere look.

John: "I would gladly lay my fate into your hands any moment, good times or bad, for I know you would always do your best for my wellbeing... but I know that decision is for me to take, which is why I did not ask you to make a choice for me here and now. I only wanted to express once more, what goes without saying -if only to spell it out aloud for my own comfort- that I truely and totaly confide in you, as you do in me, my love."

With that he gives her a kiss on the cheak and asks her to dance, as the rooms discretly build in soundsystem awakens to classic life at his mental command and he loads a fine dance soft into his ware. The rest of the night is spent with more pleasent conversation and a silent walk in the frozen gardens, until it is time for John, to prepair for his departure. After only a brife and light french breakfast, the lemousin to the air-field is waiting. With but a light touch of hands and the promiss to call her on sunday, he says his cousin goodby and follows his small entourage into the car.

Friday 2/20/70 07:47:00 EST

The klicking of the spring-driven mechanism -inaudiable for the unaugmented human senses without holding it close to the ear- still anoys the lawyer slightly, but in time he will hopefully get the coire of cripled children out of his head.
He feels tired, but he dos not want to sleep, yet. Today, his medical staff would check his sleep-regulatore´s functions in detail and so he would have enough time to sleep there.

Saturday 3/15/70 18:37:50 EST

Shannon: "So, it really WAS your birthday? I had thought it was only some lame phrase of Ian´s, to ask the two of us to dance with the both of you!"

John: "Well it IS a lame phrase of his, but that day it was coincidentally true."

Champagne in hand, the pair is standing in a crowd of well-wishers. Last year, John had celebrated his 40th birthday in a bombastic, representative party. This year, he had not been so eager, to celebrate at all and he hadn´t minded, when the planed surprise-party at the office had been drowned in work. His staff had however insisted on celebrating at a later date. With the Sierra-Task all but done, John even enjoyes the small party.
The last three weeks had run past in what seamed the blink of an eye. John had considdered to embed some loop-holes into his sollution, to restraign the ecological damage extraterritorial mining companies could do in the future, but he had found it to be too risky. All these exploits seemed so obvious to him, he couldn´t belive, nobody would find them in time, to stop NeoNET´s plans as well. That was, why he was such a bad teacher. It would be much more chellenging, to pick apart his own work to hinder other corps from abusing it too much, as well. So, they had formulated a strategy, to get rid of Sierra´s maddling and kick UCAS Steel and IMU in the knee at the same time. Unfortunately the little garden gnome had started to wail like an angry suckling, but at some point, NeoNET´s dealings had to hit publicity and John had been prepaired for it. Now they only have to wait for the hearing on sunday and all will be fine, watertight precedents against eco-lawsuites for all of NeoNET´s extraterritorial minig holdings. The elf had allready consulted with Mr. Alvarez, to mount his next moves with much higher media-couverage then before.
Though he had keept over-hours at a minimum, the lawyer was happy to relax a bit. Nobody was talking about business this evening, at least not in the ball-room - there where some outsiders present after all, but when he sees Manolo arrive with his family, John quickly excuses himself, to welcome his personal mage-doctor back from his work-vacation at the Mayhurst clinic. After a quick exchange of words and with Manolo´s kids and wife, the two men retreat to an office, to talk a bit in private.

John: "Realy good to have you back, Manolo! So, how has it been?"

John
Saturday 3/15/70 19:02:04

"It's been good, man. It's been good. 'Fraid I've got not good - or bad, I guess - news about the clinic. I mean, sure, you got orderlies stealing supplies or nurses taking unauthorized breaks. Whatever. Nothing you could use against the place. Of course they knew who I was, so maybe they were just being on their best behavior, but...Thing is, John, they're doing important work there. They're helping a lot of people. Giving people a hand up. I mean, yeah, I pulled myself up by the bootstraps, but I'd at the same time, I'd never be making half what I earn now if you hadn't helped my career. I won the lottery that way. Way I figure it, these kids in these polluted towns, they LOST the lottery. Thing is, I'd go work there full-time if I could, except I got a family to take care of, and Mayhurst don't pay shit. I'd like to think I'd stay just on account of you, boss, but I don't know anymore. It IS the pollutants that's making these kids spines pop out of their backs. And it is just getting worse.
"Now, I don't know all that much about what we're doing on this job, and long-term decisions about ultimate impacts are way above my pay-grade, but near as I can tell we're trying to take a bunch of small outfits - companies the government could regulate if it tried to - and wrap them up into one big extraterritorial monster, totally immune from any sort of law but its own. I mean, sure, they could SAY they are going to clean things up, stop dumping chemicals, take care of the communities - Hell, they'll SAY whatever they have to to get the political approvals they need for the merger. But once the papers are signed, there is absolutely no way to hold them to those promises. You can't revoke their extraterritoriality. So whatever concessions they might make before the consolidation, they're totally meaningless once they have total control. And John, seeing the way they treat these people when they ARE regulated, I'm not sure how long I can be a part of trying to get them UNregulated, you know what I mean?"

Etain
Saturday 07/26/70 13:45:14

Sitting on the floor in the middle of her bedroom nibbling on strawberries while looking over her inspiration images displayed on the large flat screen on her wall via her commlink she tried to envision the entire picture. Considering the group of people who would likely be at the party, and the large number of them who would be awakened, she had already decided just a normal costume wouldn’t do. She was going to have to pull out all the stops and use her own gifts. She wanted to really wow Patrick and completely disguise herself from even those who knew her best. If she pulled it off she couldn’t wait to see the look on Conall’s face when he saw her for the first time.

With a sly smile on her lips she paused on one of the images and enlarged just a specific portion, that of a woman’s face and hair. She studied the bone structure, the eyes, the colour of the woman’s cheeks and every little twist and turn of her hair. She wanted this to be perfect, people would be expecting nothing less from her. With her prep work complete she needed to get to work. She set the berries down beside her and took one last look into the mirror across the room from her. If she was successful, the next time she looked, a different woman would be peering back at her. She closed her eyes and whispered softly to herself.

“Imar belet raen. Cirollar Draesis ti'Morel….” Her words drifted off into silent movement of her lips as her hands laid palms down on her crossed legs. She thought of transformation, of walking the Path of the Wheel, of love lost, of loved found, of kinship, of honour, of promise and of Tir na nOg. With every thought and every bit of focus her appearance changed. She kept her overall image in mind as she wove the words of the spell inside her head.

She opened her eyes and they immediately went to the mirror across the room. With a glance, she mouthed a silent “oh!” at the change.

Saturday 07/26/70 18:30:00

She had just finished lacing herself into the dress and slipped on her jewelry when she was notified of the time. 6:30, she was due at the Rose & Brier in 30 minutes. Her stomach flip-flopped, she checked her hair, her makeup, even the dress. Just. One. More. Time.

Finally satisfied and not wishing to keep Patrick waiting, she slipped from her room and carefully walked down the hall towards the large and winding staircase in the main entryway. She couldn’t help but hear Anne’s gasp of surprise when she spotted Etain descending the staircase. It only brought a brighter smile to Etain’s lips.

Gone was the light auburn hair, the pale brown eyes and the smattering of freckles across her cheeks. They had been replaced by golden waves of curls, bright blue-green eyes and smooth alabaster skin. Only the dress itself was any reminder of what she looked like before. A dress of flowing soft rose velvet with golden accents, sewn to be reminiscent of an ancient 6th century gown, fit her as if it were stitched directly upon her body. Pale rose crystals and gold beaded accents picked up the light as she walked and made her sparkle. She still wore “her colours” no matter what she appeared like. Long blonde hair in flowing waves and curls was pulled back intricately braided, woven and decorated with a fine gold crown-like headband.

Her transformation was complete, she was Isolde.

Saturday 07/26/70 19:08:19

The were slightly late, but better fashionably so than too early and over-eager. Besides, if she had come early and been on Patrick’s arm all night her secret identity would have been given away immediately and there would be no fun in that. Instead, she arrived on the arm of her brother and that made the night’s secrets all the more interesting. Stepping inside the Rose & Brier her eyes moved over every inch, taking in the scene and looking for Patrick to complete her full costume for the evening. She couldn’t be Isolde without Tristan by her side.